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My name is Amanda, I love to dance!

So I was able to send off all my SCEAP stuff last night, WOOT. All today I've already been obsessively checking my gmail to see when I get the reply. **Lame**

The battery died on my car, like, completely. I'm figuring it was just old... so this would explain all the craziness of my car breaking down last week. I just hope I can get a new battery soon and that'll be the end of my troubles. I know I need to get an oil change soon, and if the new battery doesn't fix the AC issues, I'm going to actually have to take the car to a mechanic. Lame. ><

Speaking of which, anyone want to teach me how to change my own oil? From what I hear, it's way cheaper to do it myself. And then I don't have to worry about the mechanics LOSING MY OIL CAP. No, for real. I'm not kidding.

And now for a small ramble about money...

It's weird-- for the first time in a while, though I am jobless and still amazingly poor with a good many bills to pay, debts to work off, and obligations to cover (car, dr. visits, etc), I'm not as stressed as I normally am about mney. Which is nice, trust me, I'd rather be relaxed about everything rather than freaking out all the time. It suits me. :)

I am afraid, though, about when we start trying to get back on our own two feet. For a good while, I'm going to be the breadwinner. I'm going to be the one responsible for household bills, putting food on the table, etc. And I am having a bit of pre-emptive stress about how heavy a mantle that's going to be again (especially since I've had a baby since the last time I was a head of household). I mean, I can't wait until we have a place of our own again, and I'm thrilled that I've finally made it to a point in my life where Buying A House is actually a legitimate option in the near future. I didn't think I'd make it this far. ^_^  But even still, it's a bit daunting.

Also, anyone know how to budget? And then effectively practice it? Because I suck at it, despite knowing the theory. And I think I probably need to get back on top of that before I have lifestyle-threatening bills again. Heck, I'll need it just to save up to get us moved out. Any advice that doesn't involve me magically getting a month ahead in all the bills I already have?</cut>

Eh, anyhow. Tony Hawk was on Yo Gabba Gabba! today. When he was done showing off his skat0r skills, Plex (the robot, of course) beamed him back up with his antenna, like absorbing Mr. Hawk into his head. Every time I see this show (and yes, I know it's a show for two-year-olds) I love it a little more. Craig and I have actually found ourselves watching it while Sean is with his dad, and no other kids are over. It ranks right up there with No Reservations, The Mighty Boosh, and House in shows we watch whenever we see it's on.

You know, it's funny. I remember once-upon-a-time when my journal was full of wild "out on the town" stories and rants about how oppressive my parents were, and nowadays it's full of the joy of my firstborn saying "Applesauce!" (when I ask him if he loves me), and rants about mechanics. I feel like a grown-up. Strangely, I feel pretty okay with that.

What the heck? ^_^

Jul. 21st, 2009

So I'm updating from Craig's phone, and we're in Maggie Valley, NC. Mostly I'm just playing with his phone... I will say though, that it takes too long to type this way, even though it's a QWERTY keyboard. I think today we're going to try to go horseback riding, which would be awesome. Okay, the novelty of playing with the phone is wearing off. Later.

Jun. 1st, 2009

So, I'm a complete freak, and just emailed one of my favorite fantasy authors. I'm a stinking fangirl, lol.

Anyhow, no baby yet. Sitting up, watching Superjail, which has to be one of the weirdest shows I've ever tolerated (but only because of David Wain and all his ...sexiness...?)... I don't know. I'd say out of all their programming, I cannot stand 97% of Adult Swim's original shows.

I did exist in the same room as the Live-Action ATHF tonight, and it's probably better that I didn't pay attention. I don't like the regular show, and whenever I turned around, this wasn't much better.

Wtf. Life ramble turns into a programming critique. Sorry.

Tomorrow my only plans are to have a baby. Really, that's sort of the overreaching plan for the rest of the week, until I get that scratched off my to-do list. Other than that I hope to catch up on a crapton of schoolwork.

Tuesday is my midwife's appointment, and also the second due-date (the one the ultrasound doc gave me because "sometimes bigger babies just need longer to develop" and the fact that he's probably a complete sadist). June 2nd. Eugh. Also Craig is off work, so that'll be pretty cool.

Wednesday is class day, so I'll be at Kitty's. Other than that, laundry for the Sean.

Thursday... so far nothing slated aside from that "Have the Baby" thing. Oh! I know, I do have to meet Sean's dad in Gaffney for the weekend dropoff. That one's important.

Same for Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

**turns around to tv for a sec and comes back** Drinky Crow looks scary.

I bought Sean one of those cheap kiddie pools today, and the results were worth it. The kid is hilarious when he gets wound up, and literally the first fifteen minutes of having water in this pool were already enough to make up for the fifteen bucks I spent on buying it.

Also, this morning he informed me that he wanted milk. I asked him if he wanted 'normal milk' (meaning white milk, because I'm weaning him off the chocolate), and he said, "No, I want crazy milk." And then proceeded to pull out Craig's half-gal of raw milk (unpasteurized, unhomogenized). I don't really even know how he knew the difference, but I got a good laugh. Needless to say he still got regular milk.

This afternoon he told me he wanted juice. I asked him what kind, and he told me he wanted "Crazy juice." And then went into the fridge and grabbed the white grape. So, just so you guys know, white grape juice is actually crazy juice.

Alright, I think I'm done rambling. I should probably wake Craig up (fell asleep on the couch), and get ready for bed.


Thinking out loud and whatnot

So I know it's been what... LJ says 6 weeks since I updated this thing?

rambling about prego stuffCollapse )

Anyhow, things have settled in, for the most part, here at Nana's house. Everyone is abuzz about the baby, and I miss having a paycheck. I miss having a house of my own, but at the same time, it's nice not being the sole means of dinner and house cleaning every day. I get tired!

Went out to Alana's yesterday for some room painting/decorating, house cleaning, burger flipping, Arkham-Horror-ing good times. Very enjoyable.

It's also Kitty's birthday... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LADY! I got two of the three you told me about, and if I don't see you later today, you'll definitely get them Wed when I come over to do classwork (if I'm not having a baby that day).

Augh, well, I'm tired. I'm going to go the heck to bed. See you kids later.



Downtown Greenville is not what your average city-dweller would consider dangerous.I mean, it is one of the bigger cities in South Carolina, dwarfed in population and popularity only by Columbia, Charleston, and Myrtle Beach (as far as I know). And yet, walking what is maybe two blocks from a local coffee shop to the nearby parking garage, I am aware of how easy it would be for any number of passers-by to attack and mug me, or worse.

I'm not saying that I want this to happen, or that it ever seemed like it was about to happen, even. It's just that I'm paranoid, and I realize how rediculous it likely is for me to feel this way in one of the most well-lit and decently populated areas of Greater Greenville, the Piazza Bergamo. I am on the smallish shide of average, and I don't consider myself to posess any of the sort of features that might cause a complete stranger to remember my existence. Cops wouldn't be passing around photos of me to anyone would could respond, "Yeah, I remember her, I'd remember that face anywhere."

Not unless the next sentence out of their mouth was, "When you stumble on a vaccum of unremarkability like that, it makes one hell of a lasting impression."

Beyond that, my collection of frumpy sweaters and even frumpier scarves, not to mention my rediculous mommy diaper bag/briefcase/purse combo do nothing to serve up style. You know those bags: responsible-looking shoulder bags containing 25 pounds of wallet, makeup, notepads, Kleenex, diapers, pacifiers, literary entertainment for mommy, pill bottles, snacks and small toys for toddlers, all of the paperwork necessary for filing this year's taxes, a small collection of cd's... True terrors of accessible accommodation. Most mothers I know have something of the sort, when they get to that point where they realize that while diaper-bags are cute, they suck for errand-running, when you already have to juggle kids and purse anyhow. And speaking of styles, the type of makeup I always wind up wearing (if I'm lucky enough to find the time to remember to put it on at all) only accentuates and emblazons hellatious mediocrity on my face: toning down both my latest bout of hormonal-upsurge acne as well as the freckles that barely pepper my cheeks--which, combined with my wider, soft jawline only serves to make me look like an underage pregnant soccer mom pretending to be a thirty-five year old college student. I'm only 22. Talk about an image crisis.

Anyway, back to not being mugged in Greenville.

When I was younger, say, a fifteen-year-old goth kitten, or an eighteen-year-old feminist art kid with a penchant for flowing skirts and flannel, I roamed Greenville alone without any fear-- except maybe of not having any cash for parking fees or getting stuck talking to one of those old and vaguely aggressive guys passing out Jesus tracts. And I was smaller back then--a good thirty or so pounds lighter than I am now (if you consider my pre-pregnancy size). For an underweight kid with absolutely no self-defense skills, I was oddly fearless. Some of this was even before I had a cell phone, when my parents thought that I was probably too young to handle such a responsibility and were definitely not aware that their daughter (at fifteen, anyhow) was roaming the "big city" (to people living in the intensely rural areas around Greenville, this really is the concept). Hell, even after I had the cell-phone, I didn't bother to charge it decently most of the time. It was there, working or not. I'm sure had I needed it in an actual emergency it would've made a great projectile, if only I didn't throw like a girl who didn't like sports.

I made regular trips, mostly on weekends (when the crazies are out)--wandering the streets for hours, finding little hiding places in alleys and under bridges and whatnot where I might be able to sit down and write for hours. I carried my first digital camera down there, taking pictures of everything that struck me, when I went through my artist phase. I haunted the big graveyard at the Episcopal church on Church street at all hours of the night--ALONE. I smiled at strangers, engaged in random conversations, petted new dogs.

Nowadays, only a handful of years later, the thought of being by myself downtown doing any of these things, or even so much as sitting in that coffee shop by myself with my book, is enough to make me get antsy. It doesn't matter if it's nighttime, midafternoon, whatever.

Alright... I lost it. That's all I had. R&R so far? KTHXBAI.

FAC Kids... Please Check...

So, I was cleaning out my inbox today and I noticed an LJ notification to an LJ I didn't recognize. Went and read it, and was like, "WTF, this isn't even something I would've written were I 15 and high..."

Read through, dug around in the journal (as any good LJ stalker knows to do), and realized that it was one I made my senior year, in response to Maggie and Lindsay making fake journals... One was an uber-goth, one was the dirtiest hippie with a computer, and I of course was the e-tarded gummy-raver, rollin2xtreme.

I don't know how in the hell I was actually able to write that shit, but I have the feeling it involved mountain dew and lots of pixie sticks.

I miss all those kids I hung out with my fall semester, senior year at FAC. So, to Sarah, Lindsay,Maggie, and the rest, this is for you: Hope life is going well, and drop me a line if you see this (and esp. if you remember those silly journals we made...)

Feb. 12th, 2009


Craig is running late, I am hungry, and I can't replace my DL online, because you have to search/order by DL#.



Work drama:

The simpsonville store currently employs an entire four people: myself, Rick (our manager, as well as the GM to all four stores), Tim, and Jacob. Rick has been dealing with a torn groin muscle for the past few months, and recently found out that he's going to have to have hip surgery because of compensating for all that damage for so long. Which means our store has me (the prego that can't lift anything) and two eighteen-year-olds. Which also means that we've been shuffling managers between our store, the Greenville store, and the Easley store (because obviously the Seneca store is too far away to be of any help). I've been opening at the Greenville store all week (since I live in Greenville, and the GVL manager lives in Fountain Inn and can therefore open our store, as I do not have a key or the ability to work all by myself due to the my weight lift limit)... it's been stressful.

What's fun is hip surgery... that takes a good while to heal from. And I'm supposed to be leaving in another month, month-and-a-half. Which could potentially leave the two boys to run the store.


Writer's Block: Fearsome

The boogeyman, global thermonuclear war, being forced to eat broccoli—there's a lot to be afraid of when you're a kid. What was your biggest childhood fear?


Don't laugh. And no, I didn't make that up. I was fucking terrified.

Also extraterrestrial aliens.

And ghosts.

And spontaneous combustion.

And scary music.

And anything involving the paranormal.

Which is odd, because I wanted to be a UFOologist.

Feb. 9th, 2009

I feel completely... frustrated at life... and I don't know why.


**grabs a puppy, and chews on it**

Jan. 13th, 2009

Why did I ever bother trying to go back to school online?

With no computer and no internet access at home, this is impossible. Here I am at the end of my first term, scrambling to salvage my grade through final exams and projects, when I'm not going to pass anyhow. I should just go home and stop stressing myself out. I have a headache, Sean is tired, we need to get ready for bed. Beyond that, trying to learn/accomplish ANYTHING while feeling like I'm intruding at someone's house/dealing with all of the kids is FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE.

I'm going to kick myself tomorrow.


Chuck Sauce

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