As of this afternoon, I am 25% done with my masters. The semester is over and I don’t have classes again until January 8 or ninth or something. I am still working at my practicum until December 21, but they have a winter break so I get two weeks off entirely of both school and practicum. I haven’t gotten my grades yet; believe me, you’ll be amongst the first to know.

So here is the picture of me cuddling my dogs butt to keep you entertained while you wait to hear about the grades. Wish me luck, loyal reader.

The sky was insane the other morning. This picture really doesn’t capture it. It was amazing enough to draw my attention before coffee, so….damn.

It’s finals week. Enjoy the fact that I posted at all.

You thought you could escape this weekend without a Thanksgiving post? Oh you silly dear.

This year has been a wild one. I’ll save all the details for my obligatory New Years post (which will be a glowing review of the masters program in which I will obviously have all A’s) but suffice to say, I’ve kept busy. My stress levels are revving up to historic levels, which makes it all the more important to remember the good parts of life. That’s a god damn trite observation. Nevertheless, I’m a very lucky, lucky girl. I have adorable idiot pets, I’m married to the man of my dreams, my parents are supportive and (more importantly) healthy and happy. My sister is an extraordinarily hilarious and wise lady, and she gives me doses of truth that change my entire perspective. My dad (who’s coming to visit next month) is warm and loving. My friends are a bunch of passionate weirdos who make the world a much more interesting place.

So I use my resources. When I feel just awful, I cuddle my puppies. When it’s hard to calm down my racing heart, I touch my husband, just a light brushing of fingertips in his hair. Etcetera. It’s way better than raising my meds, and it’s easier to do. My family is incredible, and I’m so happy to have them around.

Glad you’re around too, loyal reader. Keep it up.

Isn’t Cormac the best?

SAD! SAD happens to me every year, just like everything, seasonally. I really should make the Almanac of Jady Lore. Every day of the year would be nicely sorted out by symptom and severity. I’d be happy to illustrate some of the funnier ones: Jady, who is ironically jealous of insomniacs and schizophrenics (they have all the fun), can’t stop thinking and go to bed, since crazy brain has a lot of legroom in the brain cabin right now. Jady is still piloting the damn thing, but taking a lot of flack from the peanut gallery. Severity level: wants to eat all the disgustingly delicious food available in the house. Drinking water instead.

Isn’t that a book you want to see happen?

Dream big, loyal reader.

Check out my cute dogs. They play like little wolves. Struggling with my brain right now. Sleep is probably the best thing to do. It is just hard to be excited about sleep when I will wake up and it will be Monday. Of course if I don’t fall asleep in 45 minutes, it’ll be Monday anyway. So I guess either way this week is determined to happen. Wish me luck, loyal reader.

I wonder how long I will keep blogging.

I wonder who even reads this (hi godfather).

I wonder why I think people should. Read this, I mean.

I would like to think that somehow, somewhere, someone gains strength from reading how I continue to struggle and strive to be the best human I can be. I’m not asking you, dear reader, to come out of the darkness and somehow validate my words… But I am though, aren’t i? Isn’t it a little bit like dying inside to know that my words will never feel fully completed until they are read by someone who needs to see them? Can’t they just be beautiful words, or do they need purpose to fully express who I am as a writer? What is a writer without an audience?

It has been my experience that dabbling never works for me, I am either entirely into something or simply not involved. My writing, for example, is something that I do pretty consistently but not very deeply and I think it suffers all the more for that. I was very invested in my writing in my mid 20s, nothing that I ever got published but work that I thought was important and something that no one else could do as I did. I don’t spend my time looking for publication now, partially because I simply don’t have the time to get my writing to the point where it would be publishable, partially because I don’t have the confidence to say “read this it’s good, I promise”, and mostly because I am doing a masters program that gobbles up my time like a hungry monster and makes it very difficult to focus on anything as complex as the writing I have been pursuing lately.

But then…Sam and Tom are in the street hurting each other’s feelings and fighting Former Humans, Ben and Susan just decided to put plans for a baby on hold, Xibal is in figurative if not literal limbo, and the poor gypsies haven’t even gotten stage time yet. So I must soldier on, I’ve invested 44,811 words into this damn opus, and some of the words are good.

I have a lot of writing to do to get to the 90,000 I need to publish…..actually, 100,000 would be better so I can trim it in editing.

Tonight, however, I’m going to just read what I have so far, then read homework, then read more of my own.

Sorry about a lack of pictures in this post, but I wanted you to focus on the words, loyal reader. Indulge me.

I miss my pink hair. I feel like a pussy for changing it.

I was raised with and by spectacular women. I’m lucky like that. I was taught to be honest and strong and full of spirit, and I learned exactly what those great big words meant to me by following the example of my loving mother, aunts, sisters, cousins, friends, etc. I am a result of an excellent environment.

So when my internship supervisor sat me down and told me I was dressed too casually for school, when she told me my hair and tattoos were ‘casual already’, I folded like a line worker in an origami factory. I changed my hair that very weekend, back to basic brown, although I kept a pink layer in the very back. I wasn’t told I HAD to change my hair, but I was hinted to the fact that my supervisor didn’t personally like it.

I feel awful for doing this. I can’t fix it now, you can’t dye pink over brown dye, and I loved, loved, LOVED my pink hair. I am a DAMN coward for giving in to what someone else thinks about my body, my style, my life. I can’t fix it, but I can take this feeling, this sinking, horrible feeling of failure and remorse, and put it away for next time.

Next time, I’ll have the ovaries to clean up my outfit, dress on fucking point, and wear that pink hair proudly. I owe that kind of courage to the ladies in my life, they earned it and they will cheer me on. I feel like an absolute failure, but in time, I can fix it.  I just have to wait until my hair is healed up to the point where I can go pink again. And when that time comes, no one will be able to tear it down.

My dear Cormac enjoys nothing more than skinning a tennis ball with his teeth, then walking around with and chewing the naked remains. For the longest time I didn’t get Cormac tennis balls for this very reason; such a mess and a waste! I realize now, that the joy he’s getting from tearing that ball apart is equal to if not greater than the pleasure of playing fetch with a pristine tennis ball.

Similarly, I spent all day running errands and napping, and part of me thinks: such a mess and a waste! I didn’t do homework today and I could have, which is like a masters cardinal sin. Free time, and you spent it relaxing, Jady ? Shame on you! I realize now, spending the day coping with my incredible stress actually is worthwhile. I got greater pleasure and self care from those naps today than I could have gotten doing my homework a day early.

Of course, this is a fine and dandy revelation, but it doesn’t make the screaming meanies in my head go away. Which is why it’s time for meditation and sleep. Goodnight, loyal reader.

My mood plummets, I’m tired all the time. The world is dark and cold and looming.

And just like that, it’s autumn.

I’ve been busy all month with (in addition to school and practicum) The Halloween Show at the Theater, which is not an excuse for poor blogging, but it is a very compelling reason. it is a professional dance show, which means you can only watch it so many times. Without wanting to harm someone at least. The nice part is that we can either wear a T-shirt from the show, our usual usher outfit, or a costume. I have been wearing costumes and it has been going very well. I get to wear a Halloween costume at work and people think that I am enjoying my job more than I could possibly be doing. But isn’t that the service industry for you? You pay people to pretend like they enjoy taking care of your needs.

But just like compassion fatigue in the healthcare industry, there is definitely a hospitality fatigue in the service industry. It’s super hard sometimes to smile and be nice to people who I otherwise would just pass on the street. My bosses are awesome, and that helps a lot, but I am very much looking forward to a quiet November.

I’m not really going to talk about school very much, not because it is uneventful, but because I feel like anything anyone asks me these days is generally related to my studies and I am also sick of that.

Basically I’m grumpy right now.

The only reason that I’m not completely losing my mind right now is because the Husband is by my side, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. I had a fairly awful day, but he made it better. I’m very lucky to have a partner that understands me and cares for me like he does. Honestly I have no idea where I would be without that man.

Social Security has taken my entire disability check in repayment for the overpayment I mentioned on the blog a few months ago.

It’s fucked up; we will handle this.

Sorry for my absence lately. More details later. Goodnight.