Do I have to have a sexuality? Can't I just be sexual?

So in all honestly, when I spewed this word vomit onto my keyboard I was kinda emo about being stood up for a date that might've made me question my sexuality but I wasn't in danger so I just deleted that shit and I want to replace it with this:

When it comes down to it, after so many drinks, gender is just a number.

One vodka tonic, hold the medication

I think I just had my first panic attack.

Or, rather, anxiety attack mixed with panic mixed with 'get me the fuck out of here.' I've had anxiety attacks before due to my medication. When I started taking atenolol I felt randomly like I was being choked and got short of breath. I also had the strangest nightmares, but that's neither here nor there.

But today in sign language, I just felt the overwhelming urge to cry. Like, hyperventilate, freak out, leave, go sob myself into a little ball of self-loathing for no apparent reason. It was close. I stared at my desk and hated that the class made everybody so visible to everybody else.

I... am really good at hiding it. My emotions, my feeling. Like, A+ actor. All I needed was to use that 10 minute break to hyperventilate around the corner and sob a little and I was good until the end of class. Then, repeat.

Seriously, there is a beautiful little cove around the way from that class that's pretty much totally closed off right now due to construction, and it has a running fountain and privacy and. Now my favorite hyperventilating spot.

I don't know if this is hormones. I think it's that class. Why? Because we were supposed to get into groups and do group projects. I haven't. I have no idea why I'm suddenly too shy to ask people if I can hang out with them to do the projects, but I literally freeze up and 'forget' and... I've already missed turning in one lab report, in danger of missing two and a questions paper. There is absolutely no reason for me to be afraid of these people. For one, I'm social. I hang out with people. I love company and talking. I have several of these individual's phone numbers.

The only thing stopping me is this paranoid little feeling that although they are my friends, they are MORE each other's friends. That although I am included, I am also excluded in a very fundamental way.

I DON'T EVEN KNOW.

Unlike the title suggests, I am not curing my problems with alcohol. No worries. It's just weird for me to be anxious about anything social. I typically just jump right in and start talking about dead baby jokes and nipples.

I just need to figure this out before I settle for a C in sign class because I can't do any group assignments.

I am NOT a dog person

Dogs have not gotten this memo.

I agreed to house/petsit for a family friend, because although he's a dumbass and lost me over 200 grand (I wish I was kidding) he did do a lot in the process.

Yet this is making me bitter.

I have to get up at 5:30 am so I can take care of his animals and get home in time to take a shower (thus catering to my OCD). I'm then going to work or school, and not coming home at all until 9:30 pm at the earliest (my classes get out at 8:45). After walking the dogs, feeding them, picking up poop, and making my own dinner, I am finally ready for bed at 11:30 pm.

At which point I have homework, as a full time student and part-time teacher.

And when I finally do get to sleep, the dogs either sit at the foot of my bed and lick their personals so loudly it wakes me up (I have slept through earthquakes, fire alarms, thunderstorms, and being kicked in the neck, so this is defs saying something) or stay outside and whine the whole night. They act like locking them out of my immediate presence is the equivalent of kicking a baby. And giving it AIDS.

Also, not a dog person. Did I mention this? They are loud, one of them is obsessed with licking me, and they both follow me around when I'm there like kibbles is going to shoot out my ass (incidentally, their dog food? SMELLS LIKE INFECTED ASS, and I have to dig around to get to the food at the bottom of a huge bag and I get the smell on my arm and then start hating my life). They are also bigger than me, and one likes jumping and gnawing on me when he's excited. Hint: apparently moving my arms is cause for excitement. Or, if I am being still, blinking does the trick.

I haven't slept properly in three days. I am NOT good with no sleep. I smell blood and get dizzy when I stand. This has 100% messed up my schedule and I've also missed taking my heart medication three days in a row. I will not remember posting this. The guy already knows that I'm never doing this again when he gets back, but I still have to last until Wednesday.

Over a week away.

Please kill me now. If I die in the house the slobbering monsters will eat my body and that's just not the way I saw myself going.

Forsooth, fair maiden

My friend: "Wouldst thou care to frequent an establishment for the purpose of alcohol consumption with my sisters and I upon the eve?"

Me: "I would be positively delighted, my love."

Basically, my friends know how to cheer me up. My health care might be canceled (which is okay, what with my heart condition and all), I have to housesit at an old guy's house that includes taking care of 3 large, untrained dogs, and my taxes just became 50 times more complicated. Fuck this noise. The cure? ALCOHOL.

It's like my mouth is pooping sadness

I would never, ever say anything negative about chocolate. It is amazing. Chocolate cures a lot of things, except perhaps childhood obesity. Small amounts of dark chocolate enhance performance on tests. If chocolate were a man, I would rape it.

So of course this blog does not endorse NOT eating chocolate.

But never, while the chocolate is in your mouth, absently also stick a bite of creamed corn in there with it. It was one of the only times my gag reflex has been so violently induced that did not involve alcohol.

A moment of silence for the wasted chocolate.

What the hell, day?

Today I fed a cat Valium, parked in a semi-flooded lot, locked myself in a room with a random couple dozen or so colorful children's tricycles, and gutpunched myself on a gate so hard I stopped breathing for a minute or so.

The only clarification I feel like giving is that the tricycles were for whatever reason behind the physics and chemistry classrooms, and the gate was one of those bar things that they open or close in front of parking lots. And that spot is red and swollen. I hope I'm not going to die.

Let's see if this day can top that. *drops mic*

EDIT:

I tried to pay for a parking pass online for the college, and my credit card wasn't working. Wondering why, I went to go check my bank account and found that the company that overcharged me for an oil change by about $40 had double-charged my credit card, on top of that. So a sudden $200 was gone (yes, they overcharged me, but my car wasn't going anywhere until I got that oil change). I need to call them up, but in the meantime I had to pay for ANOTHER parking pass today.

And then I walked out and there was a Worry doll on my porch. She was tied to a string and the whole thing was rather voodoo-esque so that kind of freaked me out.

And I busted my lip open a while ago, and it's not healing and it looks really gross.

I feel like I got into a bar fight.

Oil tastes like regret

Oh Christ on a cracker, life's been just going on and on and on. I look at it and go "Is it time to sleep yet?" Life just laughs and shits in my oil filter. My car broke down this morning on the way to the high school, right when I needed it to work properly, so that was a reference to getting my oil changed. FINALLY.

Sorry, but every memory of oil changing is a good one, which makes the whole process bittersweet. So thinking about my long overdue oil change sort of made me nauseous, mechanic-man, for reasons you cannot explain. So I'll just blame this on my mother and you'll charge me out the ass. LESSON LEARNED. But now that my grad application (for a teaching credential) is in, let us breath a small sigh of relief. I can focus on the little things. Like getting to bed at a decent hour. For now.

However, at this very moment, I am unable to get to sleep. Mostly because I am learning ASL (American Sign Language) and my friend thought it was a marvelous idea to take me to Deaf coffee, a Deaf event, at 11 pm, so the caffeine-sensitive chick can load up and stay awake until 4 am before her Saturday guitar class. So now my mind is wandering and I think, hey. I want to be a guy.

No, I'm not transgender. I am very firmly a girl. I wear makeup, I do my hair, I use soap in the shower. On occasion, after looking in all directions to make sure nobody is around, I frolic the fuck out of some flowers. Let's just say, if I were to suddenly be a guy, I would be gayer than a handbag full of rainbows.

But at the same time, I feel physically, I'm more gender fluid. Honestly, if I were to wake up with a penis sans boobs, my biggest reaction would probably be something along the lines of "Whoo! I don't have to shave my legs anymore!" Followed very closely by "oh my god I can pee standing up sweet Jesus." It would be nice.

But I could settle for looking more androgynous. If I were to ever want to look like a guy... no dice. I can't cut my hair short (or I get a Jew fro made of curls and frizz), my face is too ugly-femme (though my jaw is pretty wide), and... well. My meatsacks? They're not going anywhere. No amount of gauze in the world can tie these puppies down without serious damage in the chesticulars.

I wanna be skinny with straight hair and a more vague face, so I can on occasion tie down the sweatermeat and cut my hair short (I would kill for Asian straight black hair) and go as a girly guy. Or a boyish girl. This would be amazing.

And so not going to happen, ever. But for cereal, turning into this creature of androgyny (because androgynous people? HOT) would be my first wish for the genie I shall discover. Oh, you plan that shit out too. Don't deny it.

But if you wish for flying, LAME.