Blegh.

found out some terrible news last night, but im not going to get into it. nothing life threateing. pardon the lack of capitolization. for some reason my phone wont let me do it in blogger.           okay, so first updatemy computer is down for the count. hard drive is failing. also imalso have my allergy test on october fifth, so im going to be eating gluten for the next two weeks. awesome.

Sketches and health update.

My allergist appointment is on October 5th. Ate gluten again for the first time today and spent the majority of it suffering hardcore. It's going to be a long two weeks.

Already a great day.

I spent the morning finishing up the timeline for my story and mocking up the first chapter. I'm on a roll with this one, and happy with the basic premise and the flow so far. I'll definitely be doing quite a bit of fine tuning with this one though.

My second high point of the morning was walking into the living room to find out Gears 3 arrived. Everything looks awesome so far, and I'm looking forward to playing it tonight.

The third great thing was I had my doctors appointment with my new GP. She was awesome. She was attentive, respectful of the fact that I've done my research on Celiac, and best of all she listened, and actually considered it as a possibility, and we talked about it for awhile. Actually talked about it. She's referred me to an allergist, and I hope to be making an appointment soon, even though it means eating gluten for two weeks beforehand. That's going to suck, but I feel like I'm finally making progress. None of my other doctors, or for that matter my friends and family have listened to my theories on possibly being Celiac, or having a gluten allergy/intolerance. I'm so happy that I'm finally making headway.

Can't sleep.

Another sleepless night it seems. It's close to eleven and I'm only just beginning to feel wispy tendrils of sleepiness tickling at the corners of my mind. I'm half wondering if I should just stay up for the day and sleep around 8 or 9 sometime. as long as i wake up to take my meds. I'll probably have my boyfriend call me to make sure I'm up. I tried laying down for a bit. I was kind of tired when I did, but then once I was down, and comfortable I was wide awake again. It's odd to have such terrible insomnia after so many days of exhaustion. That's not to say my energy levels are back up though. They're really not. I'm just not really tired.

I spent most of the night writing out a quick summary of a story I plan to start hacking away at. I'm sure whether or not I plan to try to publish it, or if I'll just post it all over the internet, and make it a free to read type of thing. I never really had any ambitions as an author. I just enjoy exercising my creativity in a way that isn't drawing once in awhile. I'm not really sure how to summarize the idea without completely destroying the integrity of it, because no matter how I've tried putting it, I can't seem to convey that its not just a typical vampires, vs werewolf story. Honestly, I was never all that interested in vampires, though I am a werewolf fan. I started off just wanting to write something easy and supernatural. It ended up complex, longer then I expected, and honestly it turned into politics, rioting, martyrdom, and a three way inter-species war. I really don't know how else to explain it. It doesn't sound all that interesting when I put it the way I did. Maybe i"ll just summarize the beginning to get people interested, and let them decide from there. I use the terms vampire and werewolf very loosely by the way. They're hardly even that far off from humans.

Allie and Turner Hardy are sent to claim a debt by their illustrious grand father who runs a large chain of casinos. It turns out their mark is a vampire who has gotten himself in trouble way in over his head, and is willing to do anything to stay out of the spotlight. But in an odd twist the vampire then flips the circumstances when he takes Allie hostage in an attempt to coerce the hardy clan into helping him, or rather fighting his battle for him. Could this be the last straw to break the fragile truce between the two territories?

Quick health update.

So, I self-diagnosed, and then had confirmed a possible urinary tract infection that had spread to my kidneys. This is what I assumed was causing all of my symptoms. (Nausea, bloody urine, body aches, fever, chills extreme fatigue which sounds like a horrible sport, ect.) I've been on antibiotics for a few days now, and all of the classic symptoms of UTI have disappeared. The only issue is that the nausea, and fatigue are still there, though the fatigue has gotten better. Granted, I've only been on the antibiotics for 4 days, and have another 6 to go. I'm hoping I can attribute any current nausea and fatigue to the antibiotics. If it's still going on after I finish them then I suppose it's back to the doctor. At least I have insurance now. My body aches are also persisting. I'm hoping I'm just sleeping wrong. In any case I still don't have the energy to leave the house for long, or even be sitting up for that matter. I have a couple hours of it in me at the most and then I'm just drained. I felt bad because I had to call off seeing a movie with my friend yesterday for her birthday. We ended up coming back to my house and watching tangled instead. It wasn't so bad but it was still annoying. I hate the fact that I have to limit so much of what I can do right now. If this keeps up I don't know how I'm ever going to get a job.

On another note, I've managed to not gluten myself accidentally for a week now. It's been nice to not throw up all the time. I'm still hoping that there's an alternate test they can do for celiac that doesn't involve me eating gluten for two weeks.

Up for some enthralling reading?

I have to admit that over the past few years I haven't been doing as much reading as I like. when I have picked up the odd book I've gone an unusual route (think cyphers, and governmental sabotage,) and have been taking forever to work my way through anything. Recently I've been perusing the writing forums on gaia, and making a few vain attempts to exercise my creativity in a less visual fashion. During my browsing I came across the third installment in a series of novella's that seemed to be getting an unusual amount of attention. I've never been a huge fan of the vampire genre. I've enjoyed the occasional book series, or movie here and there, but it honestly never interested me all that much. I was always more of a werewolf sort of gal. Out of curiosity, and despite expecting the same level of disjointed highschool writing common in the rest of the forum I decided to read a quick exert for no reason other then morbid curiosity. Since the dawn of twilight I'd  taken to avoiding vampire fiction all together, as the sudden rise to popularity produced a lot of romantic swill. Don't get me wrong, i can enjoy a good supernatural romance, but I tend to enjoy it more when the it mirrors more of the reality of how relationships develop, or at least makes the reader work for it.

Despite all of my misgivings, and the nagging notion that I knew better, I gave this series a chance. Although the writing was a bit choppy at first (the series was actually written over the course of a few years, 2009 - ongoing, and it improves dramatically,) The concept was intriguing, the characters were interesting and not completely predictable, and the story itself had a way of pulling me in despite the writer's inexperience. I read the first chapter and I simple had to know what happened next. I just kind of kept reading, even though it totally wasn't my genre. I was hooked.

There will definitely be some ironing out to do once the series is finished. there were a few inconsistencies, but the story was otherwise enthralling enough for me to overlook them. It was an awesome read, and a welcome break from the meaty, intellectual books I've been reading.

You can find the first installment here. Enjoy!

Long day

My long day technically started late last night, or rather I suppose I should say early. I started to get a bit of a migraine around 2 in the morning, and from there it seemed to get worse. I don't know if the extreme nausea was a result of the migraine or due to something else entirely, but I spent most of the night curled up on the floor in the bathroom hoping to throw up and get it over with. I ended up not throwing up as it turns out, and dragged myself back to bed with my boyfriend. I don't think I woke up until 4pm, maybe later. Have you ever woken up completely exhausted? As if you've spent the night running, and your body has turned to jelly? Yeah... I've been having period like cramps periodically, (my period doesn't start at all for the next three weeks,) and a terrible stomach ache. So I attempted to take a bath, and found that the heat was possibly making me even more miserable, and weak.

I eventually slummed my way out of the tub, only to end up on the living room couch where I pretty much stayed the rest of the evening. the one time I did force myself up to eat something I felt winded the entire time, and food caused my stomach to give me sharp pains in protest. My boyfriend actually left work early to come home and make sure I was doing alright, since even the motion of texting felt like a terrible burden. There's nothing quite like laying in one position all day long, feeling like your body has been stuffed with boulders. Ick. And of course I wasn't the least bit tired. I was just sapped of all energy. I was dreadfully bored, and couldn't do a thing about it.

I'm thinking that I must have overdone it yesterday when I went out with my friend. Maybe it was just too much for my system. Too hot, too much excitement, who knows. I'm hoping it doesn't become a regular occurrence that's all. I'd hate for my illness to get any more in the way of life than it already does.

Just in case anyone actually gets around to reading this post here's an interesting view in to life with a chronic illness/ condition.Celiac sucks, lupus sucks worse. My symptoms some day definitely keep me from doing things. In any case, just read it. It's quite informative: Spoon theory

Sketches

Disappointment

It's funny how small moments in every day life can really drag you down. One prime example would be today. After spending the last year in a deep artistic slump, feeling too terrible about my work to convince myself to draw, I've only just managed to get back into the swing of things. It was as simple as finishing something, probably the first piece I actually enjoyed and felt good about in a very long time. I actually wanted to share it with people, silly me. So I went about my usual business of submitting the finished piece to deviantart, and attempting to submit it to a few digital drawing groups.I've essentially been rejected by most of them. Not exactly   the positive feedback I was hoping for honestly. One group went so far as to suggest I submit my work to the novice portion of their group. Could it have honestly been that bad? I know I completely changed styles of art recently, after feeling for a long time that my previous style wouldn't realistically get me very far if I were to pursue a career. But going from consistently submitting my work to the advanced portions of those same groups, to being rejected... It's mortifying to say the least.

Maybe it's naive to delude myself into hoping that others will enjoy my work as much as I do. I know I should be concentrating on drawing simply for myself. I know I have such a long way to go still. I just thought, that maybe at least I'd done a better job then novice. How could I have been so proud of something others thought was lackluster?

It's hard for me to feel so out of my league again. The reason I stopped drawing in the first place was essentially a slough of negative feedback over just about everything I was doing. Everything right down to the style I chose to draw in was wrong. If you hear it often enough you start to get jaded. I'd sincerely hoped that a change of pace would help refresh my love of art, but it seems I was mistaken. I hope this won't lead to another hiatus. right now I'm too depressed to work on anything.

My ongoing journey to a gluten free life style.

An unfortunate side effect about the way I was raised was, and though I hate to admit it because I love my parents, obvious neglect of my health. My father had awesome health insurance. The kind that literally pays for everything you could possibly be cursed with, and throws in a free health club membership on top of it. It came in handy when my brother was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Insulin is expensive apparently.

Despite the awesome coverage, between my dads work hours, and mother's psychosis, health issues went largely ignored after the initial doctors visit. My entire life I've had issues with always being sick. Nausea, terrible asthma, eczema, sharp stomach pains, fevers, splitting headaches, indigestion, puking allergies, strep throat. It all sounds like normal kid sick (with a few exceptions,) but when its happening once every two weeks there's probably something wrong.

If it could be solved in one or two doctor visits we were generally good. Strep throat? No problem. Underlying autoimmune issues, not so much. Possibly why my brother had to slip into a ketoacidosis (essentially a diabetic coma in this case) before we knew things were serious. I don't blame my mother. I don't think she was in any emotional state to be addressing such things head on, and we were all missing the signs.My brother has a tendency not to speak up when he's not feeling well.

Back to me though, My stomach issues had been diagnosed as lactose intolerance, IBS, cysts, acid reflux, gas, stress, my imagination, just about everything, but the only diagnoses that went ignored, and probably would have saved me years of suffering was a simple one. A suggestion by my pediatrician to maybe try not eating gluten for a week or two. It didn't happen. one thing led to another, or there was possibly some crisis, and the issue remained unresolved and faded into obscurity as I was repeatedly told by my workplace to suck it up, and do my job.

I'm fairly certain that most of my bosses in the last 4 or 5 years have been convinced I was hypochondriac, or at the very least just trying to get out of work. What was really happening was that I was consuming so much gluten that I can't imagine the state of panic my body was constantly in over it's inability to tolerate it. It would occasionally hit tilt and I'd be in a world of discomfort, sometimes enough to greatly hinder my productivity.Unsurprisingly the B.R.A.T. diet doesn't work so well when you can't process one of the main components.I eventually convinced myself I was a hypochondriac instead of trusting my bodies interpretation of events which in turn led to yet more suffering in sometimes not so complete silence.

I'm certain that my diet over the years has definitely exacerbated the issue. I was essentially raised on processed foods, bread, and noodles. Pretty much exactly the wrong thing. Gourmet pizza, fast food, TV dinners. It's a wonder that I was never obese. Possibly the only thing saving me was the fact that I didn't eat so well most of the time. I managed lots of small meals but was largely put off by most foods, and would only eat small amounts at a time. It's amazing what you realize you lived with when it suddenly becomes a non-issue.

I was a really vanilla kid. I think this also led to the drawn out suffering of my glutened life. I honestly never drank (i had a sip of moms wine cooler once) until I hit 21. Then on my birthday I had a shot of Uuzo. Doesn't really count. Uuzo is gluten free. No, what really pushed the issue over the edge was when I finally decided I wanted to know what getting drunk was like. Up until this point I had never been able to get so much as a buzz off of alchohal. At first I thought that maybe I was just awesome or something, and could hold my liquor, since most of what I drank was hard alchohal, and I never felt a thing. I wanted to know my limits. So I went to my usual tavern, the one where the entire staff knows be by name, and I decided to do it with a group of close friends that I trust to keep me alive and with some semblance of dignity. So the night got underway and I eagerly partook in my fair share of various alcoholic beverages courtesy of whatever my bartender buddy happened to think I would get the most bang for my buck with. 7 or 8 drinks later I was annoyed, sober, and had to pee every five minutes. So the boys got the awesome idea to go for the hard hitter. I don't honestly remember what was in it. I  know there was rum involved. I learned several things that night. One of which being that rum does not agree with me, but that aside it took that drink to finally get me a little tipsy, and then my stomach turned, and I decided I was done for the night, and would have to try with  shots instead of the watered down stuff. Mixed drinks. Pish.  In any case I wasn't able to get drunk, I felt like absolute shit, and I spent the entire night puking up bile. Not one of my best moments. My boyfriend didn't get a ton of sleep either. The poor man is a saint.

We tossed several theories around at the time. Ranging from too much overall liquid, to having mixed alcohols, and even stretching as far as a possible alcohol intolerance. There were wild theories abound. Of course my curiosity got the best of me. And I started looking into why I could have possibly reacted the way I did.

What followed after the experiment, other then a lengthy aversion to alcohol, was a general inability to eat food. The first week it was mostly nausea, and cramps when I ate, but over time it progressively got worse and any illusions that it had just been residual alcohol sick evaporated. It progressed to the point where I was getting regular migraines, throwing up small amounts after every meal, and I was chronically exhausted. I tried reverting to basic, simple foods. I ate a whole lot of bananas, rice, apple sauce, and toast. Simplifying things didn't alleviated my symptoms. At the time I had been exercising consistently every day with no results, and trying to eat healthily. Even though I'd had to severely cut back on my diet, I was exercising around two hours straight every day. Everything from belly dancing, to a small amount of Pilates. This all with absolutely no results.

After a small ocean vacation that involved me throwing up several times on the 3 hour car ride back (we'd had subway. Yum...) I decided I was done pussyfooting around the issue. And since at the time I didn't have health insurance I decided to do as I normally did when I got curious about something, or in this case fed up. I set out searching my symptoms online.I happened upon a plethora of different possibilities.  One popped up frequently though, and stood out quite a bit. Gluten intolerance. The symptoms fit well enough, and it couldn't hurt. Plus I sort of remembered being told to try going gluten free once a long time ago. It would be easy enough to test. What could it hurt? Well apparently my self esteem for a couple months, but we'll get to that.

I suggested it to my boyfriend. He agreed it sounded reasonable, and so I tried it. I can't tell you how much better I began to feel only a day or two after I started. It was kind of like someone flipped a switch. Of course it would take awhile for me to completely cleanse my system, so results aren't immediate, but hey I felt pretty damn good. I stayed gluten free for a solid two weeks. (I ate very carefully. I didn't start slipping up until I branched out.)

I was pretty sure I found the culprit. And I'd find out the hard way that I was at least partially right. The problem with ruling out possibilities by yourself, and being on a new diet of any sort is that you have to teach yourself to read labels. And with gluten intolerance you have no choice. You have to read them religiously because no ones required to specifically inform you when they change their ingredients. My first, and worst mistake was as simple as a stick of licorice. A trip to the store, and a little ignorance was all it took. I didn't think that licorice would have wheat in it. Why would I? It's candy. But it does. Oh how it does.

I didn't get two bites in before I realized I was having trouble swallowing, and thank god i'm annoyingly vocal because I so just happened to mention it to my boyfriend.I don't know what cause the alarm bell to go off in his head, whether it be coming from a family of doctors, or just general intuition, but as soon as I mentioned I was having trouble swallowing he was already on his feet. The only thing he said before sweeping out of the room was "benedryl, now"

It kind of took me a moment to realize what he meant and why. I'd never had an anaphylactic reaction that severe in my life, and didn't understand it right away. I had simply mentioned it off hand, without honestly questioning why. The one time skepticism fails me... It didn't register until he returned benedryl in hand that I was having an allergic reaction, and a pretty severe one if how fast my throat was swelling up was any indication. I wasn't ready to panic just yet. Or perhaps I was just deluding myself into thinking it wasn't serious. But as worried as he visibly was, and as fast as my heart was beating I reasoned that we should get in the car and just sort of be on our way to an emergency room, you know, just in case it was actually something to worry about. Maybe that'd help calm him down. Well, we were new enough to the area that we didn't know where the nearest hospital was. We ended up phoning our next door neighbor at 2 in the morning asking where to find  a hospital. Good times...

By the time we caught into the car I realized that hey, this was actually kind of serious, and I was just a little freaked out of my mind. Was I ready to die? Well, not really, but I suppose if I had to go it might as well be death by licorice. Then again I was probably getting ahead of myself. Or was I? I made a pact with my boyfriend to left him know if it got worse. As it was we were already speeding, and running red lights and the like. Hey it was cheaper then an ambulance. Because that exactly what I should be concerned about in a life or death situation. At least I was being proactive by getting in the car before I knew it was an emergency. ...right?

By the time we got near the hospital my throat was so swollen my ears were ringing. The benedryl had definitely been the right choice. Since the hospital was 30 minutes away. However it was only slowing down the process, and not stopping it completely. Finally the hospital is in sight and to our dismay we find all the access roads to the emergency room entrance blocked off, and detour signs. Seriously? Construction? Who does construction at a hospital? I  realize that it probably needed to be done, and we were just the unlucky bearers of bad timing, but still. What luck huh?

It must have taken us an extra five minutes to find the emergency entrance VIA detour, and scope out parking. At this point even with my hearing severely impaired and a slight wheeze I was still trying to pass of the situation as an overreaction on my part. (I still find myself thinking that way despite having had this situation repeat itself several times since. Denial is powerful stuff.) I suppose my doubts should have been erased when I was stolen away from reception before I could even finish giving the receptionist my information, and immediately whisked onto a cozy hospital stretcher. I'd be getting very comfortable with this stretcher over the next five hours or so.

I was given an injection of benedryl directly into the blood stream. It is amazing how fast it worked. I immediately felt it burning in my throat and I could feel the life flooding back in. I remember making a comment to that effect. The nurse didn't seem terribly amused. She must hear it quite often. I have to say though, I am one of those people that just don't react well to any sort of high. I mean, if I'm simply in the same space as someone smoking weed, I get migraines, and start to lose my vision. Benedryl  high has to be the worst feeling I have ever experienced, and I've been through withdrawals. (I feel the need to clarify. Sometimes depression can delude you into thinking you don't need your prescriptions. Stopping cold turkey? Probably not the best idea.) The benedryl is a downer, so of course it made me incredibly drowsy. But there was no way I was sleeping, because every time my body began to relax I got the most excruciating, agitating restless, ants crawling under my skin sensation, and I would have to clench every muscle in my body to force it past. It happened quite frequently. I actually resorted to playing math games on my cell phone, while essentially high, because it took my mind off of the sensation... sort of. I have to mention, math? Not my favorite thing in the world. I'm learning to enjoy parts of it now though.

I've also come to the conclusion that I get way too talkative when I'm high. I'm sure it was amusing to everyone else. After the hospital experience I was prescribed an epipen and told that I should probably avoid wheat until I knew what in specific I was reacting too. Definitely wheat as it turns out. Like I mentioned, it's happened since. Really got to pay more attention. This is about where all the interesting stuff ends, and we wrap up to my current status. Essentially, I am still technically undiagnosed, as I only recently received benefits. But essentially wheat will strangle me to death, and I've noticed that barley and rye, when consumed won't necessarily kill me but I might as well have swallowed broken glass for all the good they do me. I'm hoping I won't have to endure two weeks of hell to have a test done for Celiac, but we'll see. I have been offered moral support so at least I wont be doing it alone. As long as I avoid the wheat I think I'll be okay. Damn wheats out to get me. (A sense of humor about this sort of thing is good... right?)

On atheism, and upbringing.

Growing up, (ha, I say that as though I've finished,) I lived in an interesting if not chaotic world. My parents were an odd dynamic in themselves. Both were raised Catholic, though to different degrees of dedication. Though whereas my mother was often dreaming, social, and a regular fixture in her schools glee club, my father turned out to be technologically minded, methodical, and altogether skeptical of most ideas he was presented with. It's a wonder they managed to come together at all. Though who am I to talk as their overly accepting offspring, but we'll breech that subject later. What I'm ultimately getting at is that where my mother remained easily content with the ideas she'd been instilled with throughout childhood, my father naturally rejected anything that didn't involve logic, or reason.

You may already see where this is going, and opposed to drawling on about some long-winded explanation of my parents emotional makeup, suffice to say my mother ended up christian, and my father adapted atheism with a fondness for Buddhist principles. Naturally I wasn't necessarily educated in either realm,and rather was left to make my own decisions. This, I suppose, is really the only way to go about parenting children in a household where there are religious conflicts abound. I mean, you could argue into oblivion with you significant other about the issue, but in the end all you'll be left with is a headache and the kid is still going to make up their own mind. I like to think it is as the result of this that my religious affiliation is muddled to say the least.

Now, religion honestly isn't one of my favorite subjects. Or at least I like to convince myself it isn't, despite my incessant need to chime in whenever it's brought up. Damn outspokenness.  It only crops up when it's least pertinent. However, as much as I'd like to avoid the subject and it's possible uncomfortable situational outcome, I find myself lured into conversation about it quite often. Lucky me most of my friends are like-minded, though generally more knowledgeable and less confused about their ideals. Essentially I teeter back and forth between atheism and agnosticism. How it seems to work is that I generally cannot even fathom the idea of there being some sort of almighty being(s) controlling or influencing the world around me. I can't imagine or begin to understand the concept of an afterlife, as my logically based though still irrational mind (I'm female, I swear is hardwired,) cannot make sense of it. As far as I'm concerned we die, and we become fuel for something else, and the cycle continues on. Or at least that's what I think most of the time. Every so often life events sway me into the realm of agnosticism and I'll let myself fantasize about the idea of it all. My interest is never quite piqued enough to want to engage in it though, as my mind inevitably returns to the solace of logical skepticism. I like to think that I got a little bit of both of my parents in the transaction.

I find my ideas about most things are pretty fluid. Sex and sexuality, love, the importance of various life issues... most of the time I don't know what I think, and I don't expect it to stay very rigid, and so I prefer not to label them so statically. I guess I'm pan-skeptical. ha... As life progresses my interests change as well as my viewpoints, and who I perceive myself to be. Why be so literal?

I like to think that letting me grow into whoever I wanted to be was one of the things my parents did right. Things were far from perfect, believe me. I was one of those kids who's parents were hoarders. I was "homeschooled" from about the 8th grade on, but I was never formally taught anything, It's a wonder my brother and I managed to at grade level as much as we did. I'm still wonder how my parents got away with it for the entirety of my remaining school life. On top of this my father worked 80 hour work weeks, and my mother was bi-polar and possibly schizophrenic. It wasn't as terrible as it sounds. Or at least it didn't feel so bad. Mom's depression essentially meant that she would allow herself to feel defeated when it came to teaching my brother and I, and she would often become very reclusive. This meant that my brother and I were left to our own devices every day, all day long. I think the only thing that kept us afloat academically was natural curiosity. Though I doubt the standards held against us by our homeschool "Assessor." We were required to be assessed by a state registered education assessor once a year as an alternative to test taking. Some time in August we'd make an hour long trek to this women's house, and she would individually assess our progress from the year before. Ironically this involved several tests.

Oddly enough my lack of religious knowledge came in to play here. The women who did our assessments was extremely religious (a fact my brother and I loved to prod at much to my mother horror,) and had been on several missions to other countries. As a result she had a wealth of small mementos from her travels. Some of these mementos included small religious, hand carved figurines representing different sects of what I suppose is a form of religious hierarchy in the countries she visited. One set looked suspiciously akin to KKK members, and I was horrified up until the point where I finally had the guts to ask my mom about it, and she explained it was actually a type of religious garb. The matter still confuses me to be honest.

A result of this style of not quite schooling was that my brother and I reached adulthood without any type of highschool diploma equivalency, and lacking many skills that quite honestly should have been drilled into us our entire childhood. The ability to clean and organize for example. I didn't honestly know how to properly clean anything until I got my first job. I was lucky enough to have been employed by a major coffee chain that takes care in enforcing fairly rigid cleaning and organization standards. I learned basic life skills from work, and I suppose I was eager to feel like I could accomplish something, since I've always had an unusually high work ethic when I know I'm being paid for it.

My parents did a whole lot of wrong when raising my brother and I. And yes we're still suffering for it. But I still feel like I can't blame them. Like I should be blaming myself for not stepping up, and taking my education seriously. I was lazy, and living in the moment. I hated the idea of being forced to learn. I wish I'd been able to embrace it, and love it for the simple pursuit of knowledge. I should have stepped up. But how many kids in my situation would? I'd always been allowed to be lazy. no consequences for not doing homework, or not cleaning my room. My brother and I never particularly rebelled, because honestly, what was there to rebel against. Perhaps the only advantage to be reclusive web surfers was that we didn't really get ourselves into trouble. There was no need. And when you're raised lazy, you tend to perpetuate it. Not that it's any excuse. My brother and I have good character, and moral values. I don't what my parents did, but for all their faults, and they were huge,  they did something right that a lot of parents seem to be missing completely these days.

New and... improved?

Mind you the title of this blog is not meant to be anywhere near as morose as it comes across, though I suppose anyone who happens across it is bound to form their own opinion (far be it me to stop them.) regardless, it was meant to be more of a play off the idea that every day brings you something new, whether it be good, bad, boring... ect. Not every day may be life changing, but it certainly matters to the person living it, even if they don't intend it to, or necessarily wish it.

I don't suppose I have a point in doing all of this, do I? I don't think I've ever intended to create a blog. It was always someone else' cup o' tea. I fear I've never been a particularly dedicated writer either; a skill which I assume comes in handy when tackling the blogosphere. So most of what your bound to find here is rambling, sometimes bitter, bits of art, and things I find funny or interesting. Heaven forbid I expose my lack of depth to the public. But despite my better judgement, I present to you my monument of mediocrity, and dare I say it, my naive and sometimes uneducated view of the world around me. Enjoy, or don't. The temptation lies in your vicariously curious little hands.