My best friend and I are going to write a series of children's books together. The first one will be called The Littlest Cowboy Gets Mouth Cancer. Plan on reserving your copy early, only 363 days till Christmas!

Also I would like to register my objections to the universe. Just, you know, I'm starting to feel like eventually if I seem to wind up the bad guy in all these dating situations it might be because I actually AM the bad guy. Except I am not a guy. I don't particularly want to be bad either. The best movie villains are foreign and my accent is stubbornly typical northeastern.

They play that song that goes "are we human or are we daaaancer" 79878678 times a day at work. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

Merry Christmas! Or, day after now I suppose. Mine was crazy and chaotic and there was alcohol and gaping wounds and a step-sibling I haven't seen since I was twelve and crazy dogs and a singing doll and inclement weather. What I will probably always remember when I think of this Christmas though is lying in front of the fireplace on my back and watching my sister futz with something electronic and just feeling this weird sort of happiness, not the kind where everything's so perfect it hurts, not the kind where you want time to stop, the kind where for several fluid moments you're just aware of how happy you are without trying to cling onto it or document it or anything because you know more of those moments are coming.

...that and dancing to Lady Gaga at 2am in high heeled boots. Hell, the gaping wounds will probably stick in my mind too. I wish you all many happy moments and very few if any gaping wounds and just as much dancing to Lady Gaga in high heeled boots at 2am as you want in your life.

I have to be in retail hell in three hours. Why can't I sleep?!

Last night was solo, so I worked on deburring, dimpling, and priming the ailerons. There are a lot of holes and edges to finish!

My younger twenty-one year old sister has a history of calling names whenever she gets angry, embarressed or upset. It is such an issue that literally not a day goes by that someone is not called retard, idiot, stupid, jerk, bitch or any number of foul names by my sister. She also has a history of striking people and throwing things.

This has been allowed and in some cases encouraged for over a decade now. Needless to say, name calling is not something that my mother has ever taken an extreme stand against.

Whenever any dispute, discussion or issue arises between my mother and I, my sister likes to insert herself into the problem and fan the flames of discord. Long after my mother or I will duck out of the conversation, my sister will trail me around the house and try to reignite the fight. This continues even when I have locked the door, given the silent treatment or appealed to my mom to make her stop. (Usually this is when my mother encourages Jessicas behavior.)

I won't go into extreme details, but in the past month my sister has stuck me, called me horridly foul names, pushed me and thrown my personal things... all things that are literally illegal acts of physical abuse from a 21-year-old woman. My mother has not done anything to discipline, correct, confront or condemn this behavior.

I dubbed my sister the 'attack dog', which I think is very fitting. Like a dog who does not understand English and sees it's master upset for any reason, regardless of the issue, she attacks the person who is 'to blame' for mom being upset. For a menopausal woman, my mother is quite frequently upset, often for irrational things. This does not stop Jessica from jumping in and my mom encouraging her. For instance three weeks ago, when the cat broke my coffee mug and mom started crying, Jessica ended up hitting me. My mother very much encouraged and allowed it, ignoring my repeated requests to 'call off the dog' leading up to the illegal physical assault.

My mom loves having Jessica 'protect' her. It is rather unhealthy and upsetting to watch. She claims that Jessica hitting and attacking people is Jessica 'being the only one who cares for her'. In turn, whenever Jessica initiates fights, mom stands by her, right or wrong.

This culminated to it's worst point last week.

I have no money. And the only pairs of jeans that fit me have been disappearing. I cannot afford to replace them. When I found my missing jeans in my sisters possession, ripped up and stained up, completely ruined, I told my mother (who had been all Christmas smiles moments earlier). As soon as the tone of the conversation turned serious, my sister decided to jump into the discussion with name calling and aggression. So I refered to my sister, once again, as the attack dog.

Think about this. While I endure unspeakable amounts of physical and verbal abuse in this 'Christian' household on a regular basis, as a 24 year old Christian woman, when I semi-stoop to the name calling realm and dub Jessica the 'attack dog' - Jessica who has physically, verbally and emotionally attacked me multiple times in the past month alone... my mother reacted by calling me a bitch and said she did not want me in her house anymore. Because apparently no one calls her daughter a dog. (Unless it is the oldest daughter. In that case she can call her daughter a dog, as can her younger daughter.)

In my mothers household Jessica can call me horrible names on a daily basis, strike me in the face after I've had my wisdom teeth removed, inject herself into any private discussion concerning my mom, and trail me around the house harrassing me... and this is okay.

Mom has never kicked Jessica out. She has never cussed at her. She has never grounded her. She has never called her a bitch. NEVER. I'm talking birth to 21-year-old.

Meanwhile, when I gave my life to Christ as a 14 year old, I made a decision with my Savior to stop the cycle of name calling and hitting people and throwing things that permeates the Edmonds family. I daily decide to rise above the hate and filth that is tolerated and at time actively encouraged in the house. I have NEVER called my mother a bitch. I never will and never could.

Yet when I call Jessica an 'attack dog', my mother calls me a bitch and kicks me out of the house. To understand the weight of this, you must realize my mother has not uttered a swear word from my earliest memories as a toddler to our 'early Christmas' as a 24 year old.

My mother has not apologized for calling me a bitch. Every single time I've been struck by my sister, Jessica has never apologized. The mountain of very real sins I have endured remains. I am willing and trying to forgive. Yet my mother and my sister have not apologized. They remain unrepentant.

Many, many, MANY times in the past I have forgiven my family regardless of the lack of apology and tried to resume life as usual, only to have this viscious cycle repeat. As a 24 year old Christian woman, I think it is time I stop brushing everything under the rug and pretending everything is okay. The violence continues, the name calling continues, to attack dog behavior continues because in the absence of true repentance and true apologies NOTHING CHANGES.

Until there is very real reformation in the Edmonds family, I am removing myself from the family unit.

The family is not healthy. Spiritually, emotionally, or physically. The last time I saw my mothers face she was screaming at me, throwing my personal belongings and calling me a bitch.

I will not return as though everything is okay.

The next time I see her face, it will be when she is meeting with me prayerfully and repentantly. If that does not happen, then I do not intend to see her again. The same goes for my sister.

I am not 'holding a grudge'. I am not being unforgiving. I am willing and eager to forgive. I am simply choosing, for my well-being, to not return to my mothers house until it is safe and healthy to do so. When the wrongs have been righted. The ball is in my families court. They know where to find me.

According to greek legend, when a redhead dies, he/she becomes a vampire. *looks at hair* Well...fuck.

So today, I put a pair of scissors in my mum's hands, showed her a pic of Shannyn Sossamon and told her "cut my hair". She said she'd do it if I'd cut her hair too (which I did). (left is before, right is after) I'm so totally fucking happy! =DDD I really love it ^^

Jonathan and I returned home late from sightseeing in Hollywood, and once we got home we set to work unpacking and mounting the posters and artwork in the frames we bought at Ikea. It proved to be much more work than we'd anticipated, what with resizing the mats, aligning the images with the mats, setting the mounting wire, blah blah blah.

And now, as I sit here and type this, I just noticed that my Brian Froud picture is crooked. Just barely, imperceptibly.. but it's there. And it will bug the HECK out of me. But it's already mounted and screwed shut. Dang dang DANG. Oh well. Maybe I need to get used to the little imperfections that life throws my way.

Or maybe, months from now, my anal side will kick in sufficiently for me to brave the hell of artwork mounting and reset the damn frame. *sigh*

It's a pretty white day outside. I am super excited for the drive to Washington tomorrow! Jonathan and I have a check list of 'To Do' things about ten miles long, so I better leave off blogging and get to work. Merry Christmas internet world! ^_^

My mom sends me this shampoo that is meant to "bring out the natural red in your hair" because since it's winter and I go out less cause it's balls cold, my hair darkens to my dark auburn color versus the "fuck yourself" obnoxious light auburn mixed with red. She likes that obnoxious color so she gives me this L'oreal vive shampoo to bring out "the natural red in your hair." I go to the bathroom, shower, wash my hair...and I notice something weird when I look in the mirror. My hair is like... 4 shades lighter and about 3 shades redder. I don't know what the fuck was in that bottle. It was like hair dye in a bottle. I'm almost afraid to let my hair dry because if it looks THIS drastically different when wet, I'm afraid to have a look at it when it's dry. MMmmm firecrotch...just in time for the holy days. FML.

What Julie and I do on World of Warcrack


A fight that Julie and I have had WAY too many times


Something that has happened to me in this game WAY too many times


What needs to happen more often on World of Warcrack when noob-assed warcocks/mages don't control their aggro and the tank/healer dies cause they suck


How I feel about World of Warcrack, years later.

Got an "exam" tomorrow, have to give a presentation about my subs, remember?
I think they turned out quite well.
Here's a copy of my presentationpanel, also had to make slides, for which I had no good ideas whatsoever, so I nagged until Andy gave me some xD.
I love them now ^^


Uhm so yeah: wish me good luck!

I love memes. I would do memes and surveys all day every day if I could. This is why I am so good at applying for jobs and scholarships.

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Um I will tag...everyone in the world! Whether they know it or not!