PLEASE ADVISE!

So I'm exhausted and my old apartment isn't actually empty yet but it's ever so close and NBF is my moving hero and I'm back at my new apartment for a few hours of rest and homework and general putzing around before I go back and hypothetically finish emptying so I can have the cleaning service come in and clean the hell out of the place tomorrow and return my key and never think about it again.

In my general putzing, I started poking around The Onion Personals again and there's a person I may actually want to contact but as I tried to write an email I realized I have no idea what to say or how to say it. He is clearly very sarcastic and I want to show that I'm sarcastic without scaring him off. I guess the question is: how do I make myself sound interesting and show my personality without scaring boys away? Is it possible? How much do I have to temper my snarkiness? Help!

must...finish...moving

Head exploded. Help.

Long day. Lots to do for school and some of it I just have no idea what I'm doing (particularly coming up with the muscle and joint actions for a personal exercise plan for my wellness class and writing a review of something for my freelance class but having no time or energy to find something to review). I don't get to rest this weekend because I have to finish moving and write a ton of shit for my prose forms class. But after that things should start falling into place, settling down in my new apartment so I have the time and energy to complete my otherwise reasonable workload.
It is a beautiful apartment. Walking the dog tonight along the beach under the full moon was lovely. Totally worth the one hour each way commute three days a week. Now if I only knew where my other notebook went...

cutting remarks

While packing up on Sunday, my mother found a package of razor blades. She asked me why I had them in her subtly accusing tone.
“You mean the ones for my matt knife?” I asked.
“I guess.”
“They’re for my matt knife. I use it for crafting, when I make cards and stuff.” Pause for effect. “And for cutting myself.”
Sometimes, I just have to fuck with her, and I made it immediately clear I was indeed fucking with her. I don’t cut myself. In fact, I can’t even listen to other people talk about cutting skin, for self-mutilation, surgery, or by accident. But my mom has absolutely no faith in my overall sanity or ability to function, and any time I give her even the slightest hint that I’m not 100%, she takes the chinks in my armor as proof of my inability. For a long time I thought all this was in my head. My mother still insists it’s all in my head, yet it’s swelling up now to conveniently coincide with her newly empty nest. I’m pretty sure the last time it was this bad was when my sister went off to college. But obviously, it’s me. God I wish she liked pets. She needs a pet. Or my sister. My sister is much better at handling my mom’s invasive need to be needed.

Now my mom informs me she is coming out here once a week to help me organize for at least the next few months. This strikes me as an absolutely terrible idea. Having someone help me=good idea. Having my mother help me=bad idea. But she wouldn't hear it and told me point blank to just accept it and say "thank you." How many weeks before we kill eachother?

Too bad I also have a shitton to do for school right now. Watch me wriggle.

Welcome to the Nuthouse

I am about to spend my first night in my new apartment. It is awesome, which is all that's kept me all day from killing something. I am a total pig and I do not know how to organize or maintain order. When my mom saw just how bad my old apartment had gotten, she decided that there is no way a person could live how I was living without it being a sign of a deeper problem and that I need to go into therapy about my messiness as a sign of self-hate or something. But my cousin was there helping and was wonderful, both in getting shit from point A to point B and in maintaining a basic level of sanity. NBF came later to help get things from the U-Haul into the new place, and he was one part brawn, three parts security blanket. Once the U-Haul was empty, we all (two parents, NBF, cousin, Me) went out for Thai, and as NBF poked me repeatedly with a satay stick, my parents quietly freaked out and threatened his life if he physically abused me. WHAT? Yes, my parents are crazy. Either that or all of my more playful friendships are abusive and I should have been locked up in a padded cell years ago for my piggy disorganization.

I need a 1950s housewife. Someone to make sure the bills are paid on time and I remember my pills in the morning and prepare me balanced meals at regular intervals and walk the dog and keep my quiet company during my extended migraine troubles. Because there are some fairly basic things that I can't or forget to do when under the influence of my migraines and then the lack of those things (food, daily medication) makes the migraines worse and then I am fucked. Plus, I am stressing because I have to have everything moved out of my apartment in less than two weeks and my new place was supposed to be ready so I could start moving shit last weekend but they fucked up and I haven't started packing up here because I thought I would have three weekends to pack things as I moved them out. Then the migraines made me miss class and that always freaks me out and I was back in major pain yesterday and then I forgot my pills this morning so I'm all dizzy and woozy and unable to think clearly enough to calm myself down. So now I just want someone else to be in charge of me and my shit or better yet to stop my silly panicking and actually feel like I'm capable of being in charge of my own shit, because once I calm the fuck down I am capable of being in charge of my own shit, but I'm not quite there right now, so I will have my little tantrum and lay down and hope the pills hurry up and kick in and try to breathe and relax and not get stuck in my weird self-destructive self-disabling cycle.

My Family Guy Live experience

IFGP*: Hi person with whom I have only a vague connection, I’m IFGP.
Me: Hi, IFGP, I’m Annabell. Thanks for going out of your way to get four tickets and arrange backstage stuff for us. Too bad I’m only using two of the tickets at the very last minute so you can’t do anything about it. I also molested your children and punched your grandmother.
IFGP: That’s ok. I will treat you like an old friend anyway. Let’s go hang out with the rest of the cast.
[Labyrinth scene from The Shining ensues, but replace shrubbery with graffiti-covered walls, Jack Nicholson with bored-looking usher, and add 35 years and a pot belly to the black guy trying to help]
IFGP: Hi, fellow famous/accomplished people. These are my friends, Annabell and Greg.
Famous/accomplished people: Hi, nice to meet you. We will continue milling about and poking at the food and booze provided for us.
Seth Green: Hi. I’m wondering who you are because you appear to be a full-grown adult female who is smaller than I am and without any obvious malformities, but I will just shake your hand and then size you up a lot from across the room.
Me: Nice to meet you. You are a very attractive full-grown adult male famous person and yet I can look you in the eye without staring up your nose. I will continue my air of disinterest while I name our 26 tiny sarcastic blue-eyed Jewy children in my head.
IFGP: So, Annabell, you’re a writer?
Me: Yes! And since I am clearly the most interesting person in this room and this is clearly a great opportunity for you to hear about me, I will proceed to talk about myself until it’s time to find our seats.
IFGP: That’s totally fine. I will say meaningful, insightful things at key points in your monologue.
Me: I knew someone who knew someone who wrote for this show at some point.
IFGP: I met the person you know! Small world!
Me: Indeed!
IFGP: Let me give you my business card so if you are ever in LA I can continue to provide you with fabulous experiences, and enjoy the show!
Me: Thank you!
[Greg and I find our seats, which are completely fantastic, and watch the show, which is completely fantastic. I realize I am the only female in the audience and osmosis causes me to grow a penis. After the show I text message IFGP about karaoke bars before we leave.]

*Important Family Guy Person. I don't know if I really have to conceal his identity, and obviously I used Seth Green's real name, but the important part to know about IFGP is that he does both writing and producing things and is extremely high up on the totem pole but isn't Seth MacFarlane, who was one of the only people actually eating anything from their giant spread and was extremely friendly as well.

nonfiction

Functional but low-grade nagging migraine has been poking me for days. Very sore in the shoulders

I went to the dentist today for the first time in three or four years and still had no cavities and little plaque considering how long it's been since my last professional cleaning. At least my OCD tendencies are good for something.

Today is my parents' 30th wedding anniversary. Pity I'm doomed to die alone.

I walked into my Personal Wellness class on Thursday to discover my teacher is my personal trainer! He is awesome and the class seems awesome and awesomeness abounds. It's like an Oprah health guru, with exercise, nutritional, social, emotional, and intellectual aspects and personalized goals. I think at the end of the semester I should treat myself to a makeover and throw a party to show off the new super-fabulous me. It'd be totally TLC.
My other classes seem good, too. My Freelance class is basically designed to get us published and paid, which is exactly what I need. Then I'm also taking prose forms (with a bunch of babies, a very odd teacher,and King Overshare), and a reading-for-writing class in nonfiction. It's my nonfiction semester, and I heart nonfiction, so I am looking forward to it. I'll be busy, but doing good things. Maybe it will distract me from my clingy loneliness that crept up and started temper-tantruming again over the summer. Fingers crossed.

I made really fabulous chicken tonight. I rule.

Tomorrow is my first day of class. Good thing, too, since I'm BORED AS HELL.

I need to live on the East Coast.

That is all.