It's almost October can you believe this

It rained today! Il y a pluie!! Gosh, it was absolutely gorgeous. I got up at about 9 (really I woke up at 8, but I didn't want to get out of bed, you know how it goes) and made some tea and listened to aesthetic music and watched it coming down. It was very peaceful and lovely, and I treasured the moment deeply. ❤️ (Do emojis show up? Probably not. What a pity!) The kids didn't go to school today, because of suspicion of criminal activity, so we all stayed in and did homework and baked and read A People's History of the United States (can you guess who did each activity?) and it was nice. Dad was here too, but he mainly slept all day. For future reference, I must record the outfit I was wearing, because it was totally cute. So, I had my shorts, and a black tank top, and then I put one of Xander's flannels on top and put a pair of his socks on to keep my little tootsies warm. Very aesthetic and oversized and absolutely excellent. It's too bad I didn't go out; I'm sure I would have charmed the multitudes. This all makes me so excited for fall! I can't wait to wear cardigans and knee socks and drink pumpkin spice lattes and put on dark lipstick and listen to the 1975 while walking around campus. It's going to be beautiful! Fall is my favorite.

Okay, so this might be a little NSFW, but it has happened, and I must share. So, I was happily going about my business, reading Les Misérables fan fiction and having myself a grand ol' time when I stumbled upon a promising-looking fic about Grantaire playing piano for Combeferre and Enjolras. And you know I'm always a sucker for that, so I opened it right on up, and then. Oh gosh. Oh no. It was so terribly strange. The things they did, I'm telling you, I was not prepared, and I don't think I could ever be. And I know I'm a fairly vanilla person, like I admit it freely, BUT that goes beyond the boundaries of common decency, wouldn't you say? Not to mention it's all completely out of character, I mean sweet dorky Ferre would never be all weird and domineering and stuff. Okay, so is it a thing that people call each other "sir" and "master" and stuff in bed? Like, not in a flirty kind of way like "I'm about to blow your mind, sir" but like "oh, master, can I *insert act here* please" because I Mean. I think if someone tried to pull that with me, I would just laugh. Well, either that or be Highly Disturbed. I'm a pretty passive person (I think the correct term is "sub"), but I ain't into that, no sirree bob. Oh my goodness okay also! Apparently some people have a praise kink? So if you tell them that they did good or something, they'll get off on it. And I literally don't understand how that works, because what if you're at work, and your boss is like "oh yes very good job with the annual management session you did excellently with that"? Do you just... I mean, there has to be a way to regulate it, right? Maybe it's contextually limited? Wow, so I don't know, but I truly cannot stop thinking about this. I don't know if I'm horrified or fascinated or both, but I don't think I will ever be the woman that I once was.

I've been reading A People's History of the United States, and it's quite good for being Socialist propaganda. The history is all correct as far as I can tell, and it's easy to read. Well, okay, the prose itself is easy, but I've been really slow getting through it because all the injustices outlined therein make me so angry that I have to lay it aside for awhile. Or else I have to ponder deeply, because who doesn't love to think about history and its implications for today's society? I know I do! Wow, I really wanna start a revolution, though. If I had to strike, I'd like to think that I would do it. Rights for all! 

Did you know that William Jennings Bryan was Secretary of State under Wilson? Somehow that must have been lacking in my education, because I had no idea. It kind of sucks for him, because then he had to do the Scopes trial and die in disgrace, and wow, what a fall. But he did have a life to live, and I'm sure it was fascinating while it lasted. Also, I had no idea how active Emma Goldman continued to be well into the 20th century! She's so cool. I mean, I'm not an anarchist, but you gotta respect her conviction. E.L. Doctorow didn't do her justice.

Tomorrow, we have to go to CKC :( I've been dreading this ever since we got out the last time. What an infamous thing! Maybe nobody will go. Also, I have to call UCLA's psych department to see if I can get that class. How scary! I hope there are still spots. It's cognitive development, which is totally fascinating, and even if it didn't fit perfectly in my schedule and fulfill a requirement for my cogsci minor, I'd still want to take it. Fortunately, it's a lecture (like a big one), so hopefully they will be a little more flexible about letting me in. It's really very inconvenient; they don't let anyone but psych majors (and psych/ling majors) enroll in the upper div psych classes without a PTE number. So even though I'm a bona fide cogsci minor, I can't get in there. Such an elitist attitude! The linguistics department would never do that. 😒

(I'm sure they are all very lovely, and they have their bureaucratic reasons for being this way, I'm not hating) (not much, anyway). What else? Hmm, I should probably start packing to go back to school. Gotta get all that stuff, ya know. I wonder where my high liters are, now that I think of it. I haven't seen them since June. Well, now. It seems I'm going to have a lot to do. Isn't that exciting! Best get started soon so I don't start the year in deficit. This is definitely going to be one of the best years yet, I've decided! 

My nose is so itchy. What is this? Maybe it's a sign that someone is thinking of me. Is that it? Or is that when your ears are burning? I know that when you sneeze randomly, it means someone's talking about you. Let's just assume it's someone eulogizing my beauty and charm and leave it at that. 

I should probably go to sleep soon. Dad is going out tomorrow, and the kids are going back to school, so I have a chance to be productive and practice singing (for auditions next quarter) and all that. There's laundry to be done and a house to be straightened up, and I have a councilor to call! Maybe I can make an omelette or something too. Okay, I must go. Goodnight! 

Tfw everything's awful

I think I should mention for the records that "tfw" means "that feel when" and it's some sort of internet meme? I don't know. It's a tumblr thing, and when tumblr is concerned, there are no real answers (it's kind of like Dada). 

The only day worse than Saturday is Sunday, and that's tomorrow. What am I doing with my life? I hate the weekends, like I literally dread them all week. Who even does that? Me, that's who! Wow, I'm great.

See, on weekends, people are supposed to do fun things, go out, party, enjoy life, all that. But for me, the only drinking I do is alone, in my room, trying to drown my sorrows in crappy cheap liquor, and the only social interaction I get is when I have to talk to people at church (and my students, of course). I guess it's a social anxiety thing? I dunno. Like I don't wanna do anything, but then I feel horribly guilty about not doing anything, so I really can't win either way. Anyway, that's not the worst part. No, the worst part is having to deal with my family. On weekends, we're all home together, and it's hell and I hate it, and I want to die. Not that that's unusual, mind you, but it gets worse on weekends. And then on Sunday, we have to teach! I literally loathe it. Detest it. Objectively speaking, I suppose it's not that bad, but for some reason I really hate it, so I just go on hating it, and my wrath increases every day. Soon it will be uncontainable (that's a lie; I need to buy textbooks, so I must contain my fury long enough to get paid). Last night, I woke up a whole bunch of times because I was dreading the weekend so much, so I didn't get much rest, and I'm sure that didn't help anything? But then I slept a lot in the afternoon (not very restful or good sleep, mind you), so I'm not tired, but I'm still miserable, so maybe sleep doesn't have anything to do with it at all. Talia, on the other hand, got a full eight hours, and was wonderfully chipper. It made me happy to see her. 

Now I know full well how lucky I am to have a family, especially one with people who don't hit me or snoop through my personal things (usually), and I really have no right to complain, but I will anyway, because complaining is what I live for. So. It's always horribly hot in here because Dad only lets us use the air conditioner when he wants it (which is like never), and I'm sure that doesn't help anyone's mood, so everyone is constantly pissed off and/or sad. Me included, but I don't have the luxury of showing that, so let's discount me for a second. There are bugs everywhere, because people keep leaving the doors open (like, windows have SCREENS, they're meant to be used for cooling purposes, why can't you guys realize this), and I hate bugs :( Like, they're okay outside, but they're not meant to be in the house, and I'd rather keep away from them, you know? They probably thrive in here because it's so horribly dirty. Everyone is a slob except for me (and Xander, but he's not here), and we're all too depressed to clean up, so the house is a literal pigsty (literally- the guinea pigs' cage seems to spread out across the entire house somehow). It's almost to the point that I feel dirtier after taking a shower, because of how nasty the bathroom is. Oh yeah, showers. My family should start taking them. I think Talia and I are the only ones who wash every day, which is, ya know, kind of disgusting. I mentioned that I use a clean towel and washcloth and stuff every day, and it was like a frickin revolutionary statement, I mean everyone was so shocked and horrified, like "Maria that is WAstEfUL" like no, what's wasteful is you throwing away your health because you couldn't be assed to throw your linen in the laundry, this isn't 1736 damn it

UGH

Okay, so also! Dad is really weird, as you know, so he doesn't let us use normal laundry detergent (it was a struggle getting him to let us use laundry detergent At All, but that's neither here nor there), and all out clothes end up smelling like ass, and not even remotely clean. I guess some of us (read: everyone except me and Talia) don't care about the smell or the lingering stains or even the indignity of having to go over everything with a lint roller three times afterwards (which they don't do, by the way), but when I wash my laundry, I mean for it to be clean, you know? I didn't think this was such an unusual concept. Also, we don't have a dryer, so we have to hang out our stuff on the balcony like we're in the goshdarn tenements. Talk about airing out your dirty laundry in public- literally everyone in the neighborhood can see my barely-cleaned thongs flapping merrily in the breeze. When I'm at school, I bask in the glory of a lint filter and dryer sheets and actual detergent, and washing my sheets every week, and living like the terribly privileged one-percent asshole that I am. It's really something, I'll tell ya what. It's also something to be able to eat off dishes that are definitely clean (because of course we're not allowed to use real dish detergent or clean sponges either) (and our dishwasher has been broken for years). SPEAKING OF, I feel like most people don't eat the way we do, like we manage to be both healthy and unhealthy at the same time, and that's a feat right there. I try to cook good meals for the kids, so at least they get something, but the rest of us (me included) eat horribly, and it's bad. I mean, for me, a shitty diet is a given, but the rest of all y'all ain't got no excuse. What can you do? I suppose I should start cooking for everyone else too, but frankly, it's daunting. They're all so picky! I mean, come on guys. Beggars can't be choosers. 

Right, so that's the setting. Then we have to layer the Interpersonal Drama on top (which is like something out of a frickin Victor Hugo novel), and the daily minutiae of our daily lives, which is all horribly depressing by the way, and it's a recipe for the Bleak House of the postmodern age. Which is, you know, saying something. I think I would feel personally offended if we never provided the basis for a Gritty and Meaningful masterwork, showcasing the depths of the human condition and standing in as a symbol of the grimness of society. (Come on, isn't that everyone's goal?)

Thus, to put it in the words of one renowned 19th century scholar, "men, women, and children are living in Shit." Oh, this is life, I suppose, and I mustn't complain (outside of here, where I will indeed complain profusely), because I am more privileged than 99% of the world's population, and frankly, I really don't have the right. I expressed as much to my therapist, and she started going on about how the "poor starving children in Mexico" lead the "simple life" and how living hand-to-mouth is actually much easier than living in luxury because those poor people don't have to think about nuanced feelings like Sadness or Anxiety. This was all very problematic, and I had to argue with her for the rest of the session (which wasn't very productive), but sadly, it's all that one could expect. I mean, the woman is white.

What was I saying, though? Ah yes. So, it's very bad of me to complain, and believe me, the guilt is eating away at me as we speak. But that's okay! We all need to feel guilty about something! (That's so far from being true, ignore me) And I know that oppression and pain aren't competitive sports, and someone else's suffering doesn't negate mine, but it's hard to feel that my problems are legitimate when I have a roof over my head and enough food to eat (that I don't eat, but it's the thought that counts) and own an iPhone and go to one of the best universities in the country. There are people who would kill to be in my position, and I'm squandering it by wallowing in my own Feelings. That's another reason to hate me, and actually, now that I think of it, it's another reason that I could be a Brooding Postmodern Antihero. Oh gosh, I don't like where my future is going. Before I know it, I'm going to be living in sin in a dingy apartment in New York City, punching random people in the face, or maybe killing men on the beach and having to go to jail because I was wholly unrepentant about it. And I won't even have the male privilege to get away with it! Oh dear, oh dear. What a sad turn my life has taken. At least, I can win some aspiring novelist a Pulitzer when he decides to write about me. 

Man, ya know what I wish? I wish I weren't so damn ugly. Like, I'm pretty sure a lot of people wish that, and to be honest with you, I'm closer to Esmeralda than Quasimodo in the grand scheme of things, so my complaints might seem a little silly, but trust me, they are heartfelt. I'm never going to be thin enough (which, granted, might be an eating disorder thing, but STILL), and my smile is hideous, and my hair is thin, and I have horrible bags under my eyes that never go away, and my eyebrows are so THIN what the heckie, man how does that even happen? Also, I think my boobs are shrinking? Which is totally not fair, I mean they were two of the only things I had going for me. And yet, people won't stop hitting on me! So, looking at things objectively, it really seems that we've arrived at quite a Critical Situation, and I can see no way out but to join a nunnery, and that's something that I definitely don't want to do, because I've seen that opera about the Carmelite nuns and I know how it ends, okay, I Know How It Ends. All in all, I'm a little dissatisfied. What can you do, though? I have a body that works, and that's what's important.

I should go to sleep, but I don't want to, because once I do, it'll be Sunday, Bloody Sunday, and that's the worst bloody day of the week. If I were ever to find out that I was a princess and needed to go off to a small European principality ASAP to give a rousing speech about identity and multiculturalism, I think now would be a good time for it. Naturally, I wouldn't stay there, but the event would take long enough that I wouldn't have to teach. Oh yes, and they would pay me (or give me access to the royal treasury or something), so I wouldn't have to feel guilty about not working. Oh me, oh my, tomorrow's coming, and I will cry. Let's see if I can manage to get out of bed (if I do, that will be a victory). All right, time to go. Goodnight! 

September!

Happy September! Well, it's been September for a bit. But I can still wish that it's happy, can't I? Goodness knows we need some happiness up in here.

Dad has somehow gotten a teaching job at La Sierra, teaching remedial math. We all suspect that it's as a courtesy to Xander, and he will crash and burn, but of course we can't say that, and we are all very supportive. And it would be nice if he could earn some money. Mom is reneging on the promise of a legal separation with him, which is understandable because it's extremely expensive, and thanks to Xander, we have a lot of unneeded bills to pay (somehow he ended up having to pay rent in New York even though he's moved out AND in LA, which means that we have to cover it), so I don't blame her. But I do think that she was more than a little happy to take the easy way out here. No one is at all on the same page, which means that I'm on everyone's page (which is highly exhausting), and let me tell you, I've never seen such deluded individuals. We could provide fodder for the best of postmodern dramas. Actually, I do think a musical loosely based on our family is in order; something like Next to Normal, but without hot imaginary sons and with more puns? Kind of like Camus-meets-Victor-Hugo-meets-Jonathan-Larson, ya feel? Anyway. So our home life is a disaster. At any given moment of the day, someone is off wailing in a corner, and that someone can never be me, because I'm a Good Mom and I can't give in to petty things like emotion. Or anxiety. Or, ya know, anything. I am marmoreal! (That's a nice word, isn't it? Very picturesque) I gotta say, though, sometimes I just really wanna fight. Like, I really wanna beat the tar out of someone, just once. I think it would be very therapeutic (maybe not for them, though).

It's gotten very hot lately, and it's almost unbearable. Dad turns off the air conditioner when he doesn't need it or want it, completely heedless of everyone else and our protestations, and it's always a battle, trying to turn it on before he can turn it off again, and turning it on when he leaves the house so the air can get a little cooler to tide us over through the next hot spell. Then he gets mad, but it's worth it to have a little bit more comfort in this horrible humid heat. How did I live in Ohio for a year? I often wonder. It's so sticky and gross with the moisture in the air, and I really do feel like I'm suffocating. Yesterday, I tried to sleep downstairs, because upstairs was unendurable, and I woke up like five times because I was all sweaty (also because of nightmares, but that's really a given). I hate being sweaty! It's so nasty and disgusting. Like, okay, I could never live anywhere but California, right? But I'm expressly Not a heat person. Cold is good; I can deal with cold. But heat? No. Sometimes I wish I had elemental powers like Storm so that I could envelop myself in a little bubble of ambient air at all times and not have to deal with environment problems (when I'm not wishing for that, I'm wishing for Bobby Drake/Emma Frost ice powers). Oh yeah, how did Emma Frost come to get his powers anyway? And did she somehow get Paige Guthrie's diamond form too? Gosh, I'm so out of the loop. There's like a whole chunk of the universe that I'm totally missing. 

I wonder if I should try to sleep downstairs again today. It might be cooler. But then again, it might not. And the kids might want to sleep down here, so I would want to give them the couches, and I'm not really keen on sleeping on the floor, you know? It's too bad I'm running low on alcohol; I could dose myself up, and then I'd be able to fall asleep anywhere.

Right, so speaking of which! I'm really running low on my supplies, and it's terrible. Did I mention that some lowlife was filching my whiskey? It like to broke my heart! I mean, I'm not at all stingy- I'd be more than willing to share- but they took So Much, and really, it was my only recourse, so I was sad. I used the last of it on Labor Day for our family dinner, and it was barely one shot, so it didn't do jack (that was a pun, please appreciate*), so it was barely even worth saving. But then again, I feel like most of the beneficial effects of alcohol are psychological anyway, so maybe it actually was good. Who knows? All I can say is that I wish Xander would hurry up and visit so he can buy me some more, better, hard liquor. I'm terribly sick of our (disgusting) brandy. Really, I'm thinking these Romantic Parisiens must have had more money than they knew what to do with if they were able to consistently get drunk on brandy. Or maybe it was stronger back then? Or more cheaply produced? I'm sure people like Grantaire could knock back a bottle a day, easy, even so. Hmm. Is that why all these Impressionists were so obsessed with absinthe? 

As I said before, though, we're running low on our spirits. This is very worrying, because I literally can't eat dinner with my family unless I'm drinking, and once we run out, I have no idea what I'll do. Eating is hard enough for me anyway; I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days I'll have to sip through a shot or two even just to eat on my own. Why do I gotta be this way, man? If only people never had to eat anything. I would be happy to spend my life drinking alcohol and never letting a bite of food pass my lips. Oh, dreams! 

Anselm has started asking me for help with his homework all the time. It's nice and all, but son I ain't tryna write your whole assignment for ya, kay? Kids these days. Was I that dependent on outside help when I was a freshman? (Well, in math, yeah) It really does make me feel like a real mom, though. There's nothing like it! I make the kids food, and dress them, and brush their hair, and help with homework, and nag them to clean up and stuff (really, it's Anselm more than Talia, but I get on her case too), and wow, man. I'm good at this. And also, it's NOT my calling. I will never have kids of my own. Of course, this makes me feel somewhat guilty, because I've been socialized all my life into thinking that I should be a Good Wife and Mother, but I'm sure one of my siblings will provide grand kids for Mom and pass on the family line and all that, so I don't have to take on that particular burden (although maybe I should?), and I shudder to think of what kind of anxiety-ridden messes my children would be if I had them, so it's probably good for the future generations if I stay single, if we really think about it. Besides, I'm terrified of giving birth. Like, babies squish your internal organs. I'm 100% not about that, man. Okay, but where was I? Oh yeah. So tomorrow is the open house at the high school, and Mom doesn't want to go with Dad (ofc), so she says I should go, but I'm not excited because I absolutely Know that her "conscience will get the best of her" and she'll tell Dad about it, but she won't want to go with him, so I'll have to go with him, and trail around with him for two hours. He'll tell me I'm a failure and crap at everything as be really embarrassing and offend everyone, and it will be a horrible experience. But Anselm needs someone in his corner, so of course I can't back out. But I do wish that Mom's conscience would fail her sometimes. 

I watched two episodes of Sense8 today. It's a good show! So aesthetically pleasing. There are some problematic elements, but overall, it's pretty well done. Of course I'm not even halfway through the season, so I don't know for sure, but I already hope they renew it for season 2. We could use more shows like that, and less like Sherlock or Supernatural. Gosh, I used to love Supernatural. But then it got so yucky, and now it's just kind of like that one weird friend that you try not to talk to because they always end up being really offensive and mortifying, but you always say hi when you see them because you shared a Past together. Such a let-down! It should have stopped at season 5, man, that's all I'm saying. 

Speaking of Netflix, I'm probably going to watch some now. I feel the X-Files calling to me. Or maybe I'll read Les Misérables fan fiction. I read a super cute one the other day, and I still think about it in spare moments. Maybe I should read it again. Anyway, that's all for now. I shall bid you a fond adieu, and a lovely bon soir as well! Au revoir! 

*because it's Jack Daniels. What a good pun 😎