I Hate Titles

       I got some clothing today. I'm wearing what is possibly my new favorite; a white dress with an intricate floral pattern. It's very cheerful, once you get past the hospital gown look. Makes me look and feel different, but in a good way. Actually, a very good way. Almost everything I own, black. I'm seriously sitting here in this cute, cheerful dress with my black nails and my ring with a big black jewel. It's like my wardrobe is confused...

      But I feel good. More exposed in the leg area than I'd like, but it's breathable. I'm not used to breathable, either. I'm used to thick, black, stuffy clothing. Comfort zone, I guess; maybe I've heard "Black is slimming" too many times, I don't know. I feel like...Linda Martin, on a beach day. It's probably not supposed to be this big a relief to wear light, but it's making me think I need to reassess what I have. I will always love black; it's elegant, it's classy, it goes with every color, and it is outer space―one of my top two locations. The other, of course, being the ocean. I don't care which one. Point being, maybe I need to get more light, breezy things that make me feel this...good. Maybe I should even stop being too self-conscious to wear things without sleeves.

      Wow, that is a very scary idea.

I Hate Titles

       I was picking up my room and got lost in some history; report cards! Ugh. One part of history I don't care for. I never knew it until now (unless I forgot), but one of them called me a he. So...thanks for that. They made more spelling mistakes than I did, while being very hard on me, a kindergartner (which Google says is the correct spelling, and which my mother said I never attended). Best of all, the fucking highlight of it all, I had carelessly decided 5+1=5, and my teacher decided, "Yep, that's correct. This kid is going places!"

      I wonder if they ever double-checked and saw their mistakes. The good news is, I think my straight F report card was disposed of. Yay!

      The weird part? All that goes back to 2003; I thought it was the '90s. In 2003 I lived in my current city, which I have nicknamed Junkietown. But my address on it says I lived in Vanderhoof, which is a small and very old-fashioned town 10 hours away from here; it actually has a resident limit, no buses, no taxis. I mean, people probably ride their horses all over. I see that here once every few years, but nothing like what I imagine for the Hoof. I'd love the old-fashioned part, but I don't really care for the "Privacy hasn't been invented" part. I just hope they're up-to-date on toilets, but the way germs spread around up there, they might not be.

      But, anywho, I considered going out today, and you know what I saw? It was either one bear twice, or two bears once. I didn't know they could run that fast, shit. I saw one once on a road trip, but it was just standing around. And it was just a blur. Anyways, I think I'm pretty much a shut-in again; not even fizzy sweetness is worth getting mauled. Long as I keep that in mind...well, golly, I may be able to lose a whole pound!

      And I have gotten some decent sleep lately. I saw that one episode of Chicago Med I needed to be all caught up again, while binging Lucifer, and lucky me, I dreamt about both! Mazikeen was still looking guilty after breaking out of her prison cell to snoop through what's-his-name's file, and Daniel freaking Charles had decided to act as her defense attorney! In retrospect, convincing a roomful of people to try and think like a demon, probably not a good idea.

      But he looked and sounded just like he does on the show. It was perfect; finally, a reason to love my mind. I got to hear him say "Mazikeen." I loved it!

      I also dreamt of zombies, and Rick from TWD was my leader. Ugh. What I want now is for Maze to be my leader in a zombie apocalypse. Or I'm a zombie and she puts me down! That'd be cool! Lately I've been dreaming that I'm, for instance, a beetle, and two spiders are trying to eat me. Or I'm a bird, getting attacked by another bird.

      And maybe, just maybe, I'm on the Internet too much. I'll tell you one thing; I don't mind taking another very long break from games, but I will watch Lucifer and Chicago Med at the same time for the rest of my life if it gets the characters in the same room, talking to each other... I wonder how the kind, patient, quiet old therapist would do if Lucifer showed him his face. What Linda would say if she met Robin. Oh, fuck, Maze would terrify Robin...sensible! Hah!

      While I'm thinking about it, I finished my Lucifer story. And I finally―finally!―found my knife. I think my shirt is gone for good, probably left it at the other house, which is...heartbreaking. I'd give away everything I own to have that shirt back. It actually looked good on me. Nothing looks good on me! Maybe it's this stupid face, or this stupid body, but nothing goes. That shirt was the best piece of laundry I ever had. I honestly, truly think I would rather wear it today, than live tomorrow. I've tried creating it with AI, to no avail. I've tried Googling it, nope. I think it was rare! Or my descriptive skills haven't improved much since, you know, kindergarten.

      Agh, I don't know. You know what? I think I'm too happy to let my shirt, and how friggin exhausted I am, ruin my mood. I've got my knife and I had a wicked cool dream... I probably won't sleep for another week, but I can float on that for awhile. And I learned something. Drink enough juice, I don't feel as tired.

      Which may be stupid. Temporary, at best. Be that as it may, I have to go make ice.

...

       Today was good, despite the heatwave―which is mild compared to what's coming, unfortunately. We knew it was going to get hot, so last night we made a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and cherries, which alone is a treat. Then today we ordered pizza, too. And pop. So my sweet tooth is very happy. I plan on having a good night eating my devil's food cake and ironically, watching Lucifer.

      I also got a good gaming session in today. Made a pretty cool luxury mansion in The Sims 3. A pool on the rooftop, six Marguaret Vaguesters, which is the most expensive car (at least, without certain expansion packs that I have installed, but disabled―I really want to play them, but my game crashes every time I try or even have the audacity to change the settings). This house actually costs over one million, which makes it the most expensive house I ever made. There's a fountain in the front yard that all by itself is fifty thousand.

      Obviously my Sims are too broke now, but I plan on moving them in eventually. I could just use cheats, but I'm not sure who will live there yet, since I have seven characters and the mansion has one bed. I should have thought that through. Granted, their current house has three beds and a crib, but it also has a garden...and, what with it being The Sims 3, I'm not sure the horses will be able to eat the plants once I move them out. It sucks for that; I can't even lock the doors on their other properties. So yeah, I made a mistake...in private. At least I didn't sell it to millions while making them pay out the ass.

      Devil's food cake with Lucifer, fish strips with Finding Nemo. That's kind of gold. Anyway, on to this pathetic little party. I had to battle a headache yesterday right in the middle of Chicago Med, and my memory's kind of fuzzy on what happened. I know Asher stuck her nose where it didn't belong, again. She acts like the whole hospital is her gossipy, cliquey high school heaven. What's next, a poster of a boy band on her locker door?

     But Dan was sweet, even smiled for once. I do remember that. I remember him saying "Can you get me when Dad arrives?" He was referring to a patient's dad, but he sounded decades younger. I remember wanting to rewind... I don't think I did.

    But yeah, Asher... She really gets on my nerves. She was introduced as a junkie who OD'd. Okay, yeah, she overcame it, became a brilliant doctor, but she still acts like a teenage girl. Giggling over crushes and wanting to know who's going out with who. I mean, treat your patient, sign papers, take a shower, shut your trap. She makes me miss Stevie. Hell, she's enough to make me miss Rhodes! Ugh, Rhodes.

      I've stuck with this show because it's about medicine. I love Maggie for the most part (she's kind of giggly and gossipy, too, but not as bad as Asher and I cannot get over how she stood up to Choi), Dan completely and totally, I liked Will, Sarah, Vanessa, Goodwin, Dr. Latham, Dr. Scott, Trini, Doris, Abrams. Other characters are good enough; Peter, Archer, even Pam Blake. But I cannot stand giggly, gossipy, mentally-twelve Hannah Asher. I did not even realize how much I didn't like her.

      It's okay though. I like Chloe Decker, but I do not like Leslie Shay. At least not yet. And Chicago Med, I think, would not be tolerable without Dan, Maggie, Will, Sarah, et cetera. Chicago Fire and PD have a few of them, but in very few episodes. I'm not sure I can watch it all the way through... Even if it does have Severide, Voight, Halstead, Casey. And I only, only list Spencer's character because he was in House. My favorite doctor show by far. Med is very good, but it would be so much better if I could just take all my favorites from that, and plop them into the House universe.

    It's apparently about 14 hours on the road between their locations, and the entire gang going to the other location's hospital is a little unrealistic. And this is coming from someone who writes books about Lucifer. The only thing that makes sense is if Rhodes, or Vanessa, or Will, goes to their own hospital from their own past. I do hope it happens eventually. But I still want to know what TF happened to Sam.

      And maybe my memory is shot from yesterday's headache, since I could barely look at the screen, but I cannot recall if Crockett was in the episode. I remember seeing his name, but not his face.

      Anywho. I'm going to stop talking to myself now. It seems like it's all I ever do. Even deviantART, once bustling with my friends' sub-missions, is now completely quiet. Like I'm not being alerted anymore when they publish something.

      Oh, whatever. I'll just go be alone, as usual. I wish I could say I was good company.

...

       "I'm feeling...happy...which is a big deal, for me."

      Seriously, I am and it is. I've been sleeping great lately, and I'm pretty tempted to go back to bed and see if I can get some more good sleep. But I don't really want to waste what is actually a pretty good mood. I've been taking more Benadryl than the recommended dose, and I'm finally not staying awake all bloody night, every bloody night. I'm actually sleeping like a regular person now; eight hours at a time. My last snooze only lasted about two hours, but it was still...amazing. For me anyway; I dreamt my brother's bike got stolen.

      And in my eight-hour sleep, I dreamt that I was at a hotel, my family was walking down the hall, and I was running after them. I wasn't far behind, but I just could not catch up. I should be able to, even if most of my focus was on the shadow of my hair as I ran; it looked really silly. It's knee-length, but it was bobbing around like Chloe Decker's ponytail (when she walks, which I hate). They got outside, and before I could leave, the doors locked for the night and I couldn't open them. At first, my family didn't notice that I'd been locked in, so they kept walking, going home. I turned, went back to our room, didn't have our card key but what the hell, it's a dream. So I stayed up there until my family came back for me. My stepfather, who was always saying goofy things, said, "Is there a woman up there? A graceful woman?"

      And I, being accurately pissed, went back inside and slammed the door. My dream-self contemplates staying there the whole night or maybe longer, saying I was quarantined, but eventually I go to the door, see all these keys hanging right there beside it, and I try them all (yeah, from the inside). The doors open up and before I can decide whether I'm staying or going, I wake up.

      So strange. But I woke up feeling so good. Tired, but good. I usually feel good in bed; once I stand, I realize how sore I am. I can feel my good mood slipping away; pretty soon I'll be back to my pissed self. (Whoa, don't read that wrong.)

      I hope not. I'm never happy. As I lay there, it cheered me thinking of deleting my chat history with that guy I called my bestie. He doesn't even want to chat, so why should I hang onto a corpse of what was? Of course now I'm rethinking it.

      But, ooh, speaking of corpses! Last night, I was playing Scrabble with my mother. I played glocks, aimed, deaths, then I got a Bingo, coffins. Then she played guns, pig, and coral. All of these are in theme with the Walking Dead. I was just sitting there laughing my ass off. Even took a picture. I asked her to send it to me, she said "Okay!" and hasn't.

      Now the AC is on. I'm freezing solid. Like those walkers in the episode The Storm.