a woman.

Maybe it's time I actually start thinking and *gasp* planning for the wedding.
It's a year away now, and engagement photos are supposed to be done in June! I haven't even looked at photographers yet. The farthest I've gotten is to rip pictures out of magazines of things I want and discuss how fucking expensive my cake is going to be with the pastry chefs at work. Hopefully I still work at the racetrack by next April so I can wrangle some friends to bake it for me. :| Yeah.
I've also got a soundtrack going, but that's working out pretty slowly and if Jon tries to veto ANY of the blackmetal I'm going to retaliate by not allowing our children to be baptised. Maybe that's petty; I don't fucking care. It's bad enough I'm going to have people taking pictures of me dancing. That I'm going to be married in a church. That my reception is going to be in a fancy room with people in fancy clothes instead of in a field with barefoot half-naked friends and flowers and fire and mead.
But I love Jon and I'm giving away that lovely festival for him. And my dream of being a beekeeper. Because he's allergic. To bees. Ugh. But they'll still come to me, wherever I am, and that's just something he's going to have to learn to live with I suppose.
Jon's sister Nicky will be in town in two days (yay), so that means yummy family dinner and hanging out and stuff like that. That's nice.
I really need to start actually working on the wedding diet and workout plan. I'm not doing so super hot on actually staying focused on that. Especially with my heinous pizza cravings. I find that I don't drink lots of glasses of water, but I do drink lots of cups of tea... Does that count? I've had such a sweet tooth lately. All the junk food is nearly gone, and I'm going to just toss the rest of the Oreos. When I go back to the grocery store no junk! I'll get Odin some pretend-junk snacks and some more nuts for me. Ronald and I are going to join the gym soon, but I have to wait until I can afford a pair of gym shoes :( Lame. But that's what I get for avoiding sports since I was 17. I used to go running in a pair of Pumas, but imo Pumas aren't good for anything but fashion.
I feel like I'm rambling... I'm listening to Portishead. I want to take a bath and then test-drive my new (fairly expensive) shampoo. I want to scrub my face until it's pink and hurts and feels CLEAN. I want to scrub the shower until it's pink and hurts and feels clean too.
I just want the bathroom to be finished, that way the entire back of the house is done and I just have to clean the kitchen and LR tomorrow. Oh, and do the laundry. Ugh. UGH. It never ends. I guess life would be easier if I kept up on the dishes in a steady fashion, but I really just can't be bothered with that shit.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about old times, about highschool bullshit and stuff like that. I think because I ran into Scott on Facebook the other day and we were chatting and it dredged up a lot of shit. I wrote him this long-winded letter that I have no intention of sending him while I sat at the computer and drank way too much gin, and started to remember all sorts of post-secondary activities: Justin and Mike and Doug and Coke and Opium and Absinthe; shoplifting and quitting jobs and running weed across the state; hanging out in gay bars with drag queens and in parking lots with stoner rejects, sitting in the river at four am on acid. Trying to kill myself. That sort of thing.
Mental health evaluations... Blah. Dropping out of college three times. Writing, painting, knitting, sculpting. Odin.
And I feel like I didn't do a damn thing I thought I would have done by now, but I think that really, I kind of have done everything that nobody else did. I did everything. I've been every girl I could possibly be and I learned things about every lifestyle, and at the least it has equipped me with an inate ability to point out consistency flaws in movies and books. Pff.
I am going to go take a shower.