Everyone’s super nice, crazy helpful, and way beyond supportive of each other.  I love it.

HOWEVER…One of the things you can check off for your profile is your…let’s say “writer level.”  Like a lot of people, I have it checked off as, “emerging,” to signify that I’m trying to get into the professional field.  My problem is that I don’t keep reading “emerging.”  I keep reading, “ermahgerding.”

That’s a fairly accurate summation.  I’m just ermahgerding along.  Werting all the werds.

Good job, Katie.  You’ve only traumatized your coworker by going, “OMNOMNOM ARTIFICIAL BUTTER FLAVORING” once so far.  You’ve only been at work for an hour and fifteen minutes today.  Let’s keep this up.

Wow.  Guys…thank you for the words of support.  Holy cripes.  I know it sounds stupid, but knowing that people actually care about the stupid things going on with me, that you’ve been supporting me in my fight to finally stop mutilating, that you actually give a care about stuff that I think’s just a little useless thought purging…it means a lot to me.  Thank you.

(Also…yeah, I generally prefer long pants and all for myself…but I think it’ll be a big personal step to even give myself to option to attempt shorts—especially with summer coming and no air conditioning at my place!  Thank goodness there’s AC at work!)

But, this year…I think I’m actually going to try something daring.  I’m thinking of pushing myself out of my comfort zones and actually go to Good Will and pick up a cheap pair of shorts.

I know, that sounds really stupid to…well…any sane person. I don’t wear shorts if I can avoid it.  I don’t really even own a legit pair.  It has always been a combo of personal fear and public service (because I KNOW no one wants to see all that mutilation or my thick legs in general).  Even the rare times I wear a skirt or dress in public, I’m normally making sure I wear nylons, knee-high stockings, or knee-high boots.

However…I’ve gotten a lot better.  The scars are still definitely there, but they’re fading.  I’ve made so many changes this year, and I should try to be okay with myself, right?  Not perfect, but I’ve come a long way.  I still don’t like all of the scars, but they’re battle wounds.

I can’t keep looking at what’s wrong.  I have to start embracing what I’ve done right.

“Fuckit, Ninja.  I know life goes ham—real mad, real fast.  No bones.  But, do me a solid and don’t go disconnecting on me.  Ya mean too much.”

I’d say it was a vent sketch, but that’d be if I was angry, wouldn’t it?  I guess it was more of an emotional baggage sketch.  Either way, all I know is, an hour later, I had this.  Shouldn’t’ve taken an hour, I know, c’est la vie.

Well, I guess everything happens for a reason, right?  For once, I’m glad I didn’t wind-up going back to my place in DeKalb yet and have been stuck visiting my parents.

As most people who know me are aware, I HATE storms.  I know a lot of people enjoy them, but, quite frankly, they terrify me.  Occasionally, I physically get violently sick from fear when there are nasty ones.  Today was no exception.

All the same, for as bad as it was storming here, it was significantly worse in the surrounding areas, and there was even a tornado touchdown IN DEKALB.  Yeah, in this instance…I’m totally glad I wasn’t there.  Even if it didn’t hit my place, I find that scary.

The slightly un-PC version of the scribble I put up on the Central Avalon fb page today.  Not that it’s really offensive or anything, but I wasn’t sure how well Constance’s grumbling would go over on there…as accurate as it may be.

Speaking of friends, I finally got around to scanning this!!!

(Just a lil’ attempt at Rocky for Del)

Sometimes, it’s nice to just have SOMEONE to talk to.  This goes for everyone.  I know this first hand and think that having people there for you means a great deal in life.  That’s why I cherish my friends more than anything.  That’s why I spent today baking cookies for a friend.  That’s why I’ll sometimes forego sleep if a friend needs someone to talk to.  That’s why I generally keep my instant messenger open—just in case.

Amy’s someone who has started regularly checking in on ME…and, sometimes, it’s nice when people tell you they care.

On a similar note, I may be well off base, but, looking into her character, Harlowe, I get the feeling that she and my character, Ander, have a good deal in common:  both familiar with depression, yet still passionate, both familiar with solitude and at least some level of loneliness, both a bit different, even in their own families.  If the two of them sat down and had a coffee/cocoa chat, I’d imagine it being a bit like this.