I had this horrible dream that my husband won a lotto and he’s standing in Canada, waiting for me, and I can’t get there.

I think I’m losing it. I don’t feel like myself. I have a mantra of “you have to work because we need the money” I keep telling myself and it isn’t working anymore. All I want to do is grow wings and run. I want to be so far away that I can’t even find me. I need my muse to come find me cause it’s hiding and NaNo is moments away.

I feel like crying.

Things I regret

I really officially regret going back to work at this place.

I left the first time because of the catty, horrid women, the money hungry owners, and the absolute disregard for the wellness of the children.

I give up. Holding out for my Christmas bonus and then I’m gone.

I should have stayed in Canada.

Motherfucking echos.

I’m starting to hit the first little snags at work regarding what I believe to be the right thing to do, I dunno, I spend something like forty hours a week with these kids, maybe I know what’s going on? So, off I went to my professor just to get a reassuring pat on the head making sure I wasn’t freaking out. I did my research, I checked all my books, I sought out help, and I’ve got everyone in my corner going ‘You’re doing it right, why are you even asking?’ and my boss on the other side with her fingers in her ears going NOPE LALALALALALLALALALA.

I’m odd. Not slightly odd. Quite odd. Me and the kids celebrated: Pirate Day, Lief Erikson Day, ‘Goodbye Summer!’ and ‘moving day’. All with really relevant child-development events. I’m not joking. Lief Erikson day was ‘discovering a place to use our gross motor skills’. I just tied it to a fun event because life is more fun that way.

I do really try to put down a plan for every day, even if it’s just something like ‘make sure we take a walk today’. Something. Then, my kids will do something on their own and make my job so much easier. Last week, the found a corner of the room that echoed.

They screamed. Like fucking banshees. And laughed and laughed and laughed. And when the echos got louder and they could barely tell what sound was there, they did it again. It was amazing. I jumped right in with them. They didn’t need me to teach them shit that day. We have voices. We can ECHO. So, that we did. For two days. We screamed. Why? Cause we discovered our voices. I don’t give a shit that a parent won’t read my little blurbs about development cause I’m pretty sure none of them give a shit that we discovered a precursor to words, THEY’RE NOT SPEAKING YET WHO CARES, AMIRITE!? They wanna see cute little footprint artwork. They don’t get it. They’re missing the point. What does that teach them? (To be aggravated at me, mostly) We’re gonna strip down and put pant on the floor and wallow in it because we have ARMS and LEGS, FINGERS, TOES, an entire body we can move, AND LETS SEE IT WORK THIS PAINT GODDAMMIT.

We’re amazing and I hate, hate, hate, Kefka hate hate hate, that I can’t get people to understand that. Nothing about our classroom needs to be ‘pretty’ and ‘perfect’. I hate that ‘mother’ is an instant qualifier for knowing how to do my job for me.

I took a sick day today. My head hurts. I want to sleep.

Stories Never Die

It’s been quite a long time, my old friend.

Quite a long time indeed.

Last I saw you, we were prepping for battle.

And then you were taken away.

But no, not as a prisoner of war.

Not killed.


But today I watched it end.

I saw the battle unfold.

I saw beloved friends die.

I watched you fight.

All in a language I didn’t understand.

I’ll never understand.

But we’ve been reunited.

At last, I turn the pages I’ve longed to see.

And one day, I’ll understand the words I longed to read.

A Rebirth, one would say.

Today I obtained the scans to a series I started way back in high school. The translation company went out of business two book before the end and I never got to see what happened. I’ve always had my hopes fairly low, I mean, it was a crappy little Korean manwaha that I was enjoying. It’s like watching a shitty TV show from an off channel.

But, today, my lingering interest paid off. The scans are now in my possession! I HAVE THEM. I can SEE how the story ends!! Now, to save up for a translation so I can read it. Whatever. Hard part completed!


In other news, I feel depressed and down as fuck. I really don’t think I’m built for the widdle ones. Nobody is letting me, OR THEM, go at our own speed and it’s really frustrating. No, I’m not transitioning these kids. I spend all day with them, you don’t. I know when they are ready. Also, I love how ‘mother’ is a qualifier for everything related to childcare. That’s fantastic that you’ve spawned ONCE. I may have went to school for this. Can you listen to me for a minute?

I feel sick. I want a day off.

I am a responsible adult, part the second.

There, I’m broke, happy world? I DON’T HAVE A TRIFORCE CLOCK TO SHOW FOR IT.

*grumble grumble*

I stormed out of work today because I refused to ‘donate’ some of my time to clean my classroom. And trust me, I really wanted to clean my classroom. I wanted to mop the floors and put all the nice squeaky clean toys out in their right places… I wanted to get all the soft toys into the wash so I could make sure they came out all light and fluffy and wonderful for the next week.


I went home and grumbled about how nobody warned me five minutes til the end of my shift that I had to close my room out, unpaid.

I hate this world.

I want a Triforce clock.

Instead I’m one paycheck shy of paying off the end of my husbands dumb mistakes.


I am a responsible adult.

I have fallen completely in love with the newest Zelda title to drop on the franchise, Hyrule Warriors. If I didn’t have a husband who would *kill* me, I would drop the $500 on the Japanese collectors bundle up on ebay right this second for all the goodies I’m missing cause Nintendo of America sucks lately.

MAN DO I WANT THAT FUCKING BUNDLE. Dammit, Nintendo, I would have paid retail for this shit. I WOULD HAVE PAID. Now I’m drooling at resellers trying to convince myself it isn’t worth all that money.

My inner fangirl is screaming in pain right now.

An official art book, the scarf from the game, all the costume codes, ANOTHER FUCKING TREASURE BOX (not that I don’t love my boss key box my husband got me, this ones just officially licensed stuff…) and…


Oh god, someone take my paypal info away from me before I buy this shit.

EDIT: FOUND ONE AT $375. Writing this blog post is the only thing keeping me from hammering the ‘buy it now’ button with the force of a megaton hammer.


This is killing me. The one game series I need all the goodies for. I’m 300% positive that the NA region got shafted on this deal is because the Warrior franchise just doesn’t do well here. This still sucks, I guess as a consolation prize, I have my Zelda statue to finally start paying off and it’s just a few months closer to joining the figure I admired for years.



My husband will kill me if I buy this. We’re literally one paycheck shy of killing his debt. I can’t. I can’t! I’m busting my ass for this… there will always be another time, right? Plus I still gotta pay for the attorney.

JUST LIKE THAT CHOCOBO STATUE I LOST. *sobs softly* Oh god, the want is so strong.

I love working with kids, I wish it didn’t pay so badly. I wish I wasn’t so good with money. I wish my anxiety would settle down. I wish my husband was here already. I wish I had just ordered the Japanese bundle instead of holding out for the North American release that didn’t happen.


*weeps softly into the night*


So I’m afraid I have no other way to say this without saying it here.

Here’s an open letter to my mother.

Dear Mom,

Jilly isn’t a bad dog, she’s a pent-up, hyper dog. And screaming at her and beating her crate is not how we’re going to make her a better dog. It’s going to make her a skittish dog. I love how Dad and Rocco are idolizing Jax like he popped out all mellow and perfect. He destroyed things too, but there was a gigantic difference between puppy Jax and current-puppy Jill. You were home ALL DAY EVERY DAY with puppy Jax until he was like, 5. Jill spends all her day in a crate.

She’s an active, chewy puppy. Yet we have no outlet for her to be active, OR get rid of this excessive chewy feeling. And she responds pretty well to gentle commands instead of shoving her around and smacking her snout. She still jumps, but if I spend a few minutes praising her to ‘sit’ when she’s jumping up for love, she gets it. So how about we buy her toys to chew, like a goddamed teething toddler? No, no chewing on blankets or pillows, YES, chew on all these toys. It’s like telling a two years old to sit still all day, the problem isn’t with the kid, it’s with whoever is demanding a ball of fuzzy energy to not move!

But it’s gotta be a ‘everyone helps’ deal too. We all have to throw a rope toy around the house after dinner, we all have to give her a ball and calmly tell her to ‘sit down’ when she’s jumping, but every time I say something I get dismissed, AS I USUALLY DO EVERY TIME I OPEN MY MOUTH.

I’m no dog trainer, but I can do some research, and scaring the dog half to death is not how we’re going to make her be a good dog, but, since I’m not some kind of world class construction worker who knows everything about everything that isn’t computers, both dad AND Rocco (and you…) won’t listen because apparently, doing research and testing things that aren’t ‘scream loud enough to scare every animal in a ten block radius while losing my temper’ is clearly something only computer geeks can do.

Love, the hermit.