Aisalynn Writes

So today my little sister drags me out of bed and tells me I'm taking her school shopping--something that was supposed to happen on the of the The Fight, but was put off because of it until now. Only, instead of my mother taking my sister to Khole's or Wal-mart and restricting her to a few pairs of jeans and few shirts, my mother hands me a credit card and tells me to go to the outside mall and "get you guys some clothes and to just try and be reasonable about the price."

Oh yeah. I can recognize a bribe when I see one.

At first I was completely against accepting anything from her--I went through five or six shops with my little sister and didn't buy a thing, just focused on getting her clothes, and then we came to one of my favorites stores--one where I love all the clothes but never buy them because I can't afford it--and decided to hell with it. I bought myself a couple of You-Broke-All-My-Shit shirts and then topped it off at another store with a pair of You-Caused-Me-Serious-Emotional-Distress jeans, and then another shirt just because I could.

I would like to say that I am above guilt money and that I'm going to maintain the Mortally Wounded and Pissed Off attitude I have kept up these past few days, but really it is exhausting to keep giving the silent treatment to someone you live with (yesterday my mother asked me if I was ever going to speak to her again. My answer was a rather angry "Not today."), especially when you yourself are a very laid back, hard to piss off, likes to joke around, forgive and forget type person.

So. I'm still rather pissed off at her, but I'm playing nice to keep the peace in the house for the week I still live here.

I don't know if this makes me a better person, or a weak one.


In other news, I finished my J2 fic, and sent it to my beta. It was nearly 11,000 words. That's pretty long for me. I'm going crazy waiting for it to be sent back, because as my first J2, first RPS, and first ever AU I'm extremely nervous about it.

So, I got kicked out of the house today.

After a ridiculous fight with my mother over alcohol (my sister was making drinks, offered me one, my mother blew up, despite my age), which led to a bigger argument over all the things I have not argued with my mother about this summer, my mother finally told me to leave my phone, and the aztec (the car they bought me three years ago, which of course, is still under their name because my mother kept putting off signing it over, just so she could hold it over my head) and that she was through with me and I was on my own.

I called my cousin, grabbed my computer and left.

Now, here I am, having just showered with itchy generic soup, brushed my teeth with a baby toothbrush, and, thanks to the fact that I was in my swim suit when the argument took place, in my cousin's clothes. Including--you'll all be dying to know--her underwear. At least it was a pair she had never worn.

Still, you know you day has gone to shit when you are wearing somebody else's blue, frilly underwear. Underwear that has the word's "Bride to Be" written on the butt.

I've been getting calls on my cousin's phone from like, my whole family, and apparently my mom has completely destroyed my room--like torn up my artwork, knocked my book shelves and mirrors, pulled all the clothes from my dressers and ripped the mattress from my bed--and is now planning on burning my belongings in the field. She also wants me to bring the computer back, since she knows its my most important possession, since it has around ten years of my writing and artwork on it.

Like that is going to happen.

God, I need sleep. And this started out as a really good day, too...

Feel like crap. Spent most of the night lying on the bathroom floor.

Still can't sleep.

Rent's due on the apartment I won't be living in for three weeks, and because my loan hasn't come in, I'm already short on it.

Supernatural finales are really depressing.

I really wish I would just throw up already and the nausea that has been plaguing me for the past week will end.

What a great start to August.

Things I have learned/noticed about this show:

--All bars are the Roadhouse, even ones that have a crossroads used for making pacts with the devil.

--Dean and Sam apparently just go back and forth between two hotel rooms, but strangely enough the decorations keep changing.

--Apparently, all evil women wear white dresses.

--Although I tend to drool and go all fangirlish over Dean, angry Possessed!Sam is incredibly hot.


Though I'm not burning through this show at my usual pace, I'm really loving it. It's nice and angsty, and the whole "kill me before I turn evil" really is one of my favorite story lines. I just hope this doesn't go too far and get really weird and over the top on me, like so many other shows I used to like.


In non-Supernatural related news, I've felt like crap for a couple days, dizzy and lightheaded every time I stand and constantly nauseous. It's no fun. And yesterday I think I slept for about twenty hours straight. Today though I'm supposed to babysit my nephew and my cousin's little girl. I just hope I don't end up passing out or something while I'm doing it, 'cause I certainly feel like it.

So, I'd been seeing a lot of stuff about Supernatural on my flist here lately, and though I'd never had an interest in it before I decided to give it a try. Thanks to my recent case of insomnia these past few days I am more than halfway through the first season. I'm really liking it. Mostly because the boys are so pretty, (Especially Dean. God, those eyelashes kill me.) but also because--at least right now--the show seems to be focusing on things like urban legends. Unlike Buffy, which creates these crazy demons from all these crazy demon dimensions, this show is dealing with stuff like Bloody Mary, the Hookman, poltergeists, Native American curses... etc. I like it. It takes me back to when I was thirteen and interested in all that stuff. I remember I did a whole research project on the origin of local legends and ghost stories. It was fun.


In real life news, I got my haircut yesterday. It's down to my shoulder blades now, which is the shortest I've had in about five years. My mother hates it. She keeps calling me "Sarah Short-hair." I love it though. It makes me seem less like a fifteen year old and more like the age I am. And I'm glad I finally found someone who knows how to cut my hair. I'll definitely be going back to her.

It's six in the morning here, which is crazy early for me to be up considering I usually can't fall asleep until at least five am, but I'm watching a friend of mine's kid today, which should be interesting. I haven't actually baby sat anyone over the age of nine months since my one babysitting gig in high school. And that was horrifying, mostly because it was four kids and one of them resented the fact that they had a baby sitter but wasn't mature enough to be in charge, another was such a suck up that it got seriously annoying and pissed off the other kids, and the only boy had ADHD and tried to hit his sister in the head with a baseball bat. It's not much of wonder why I haven't babysat since. But Aryonna (my friend's kid) is sweet and I'm looking forward to spending some time with her.

Let's hope this goes well!

So, I know it only been like, a couple of days since I posted my whole "going on a break" entry, but I can't sleep thanks to this SERIOUSLY UNCOMFORTABLE UTI that I'm currently enduring, and I'm pretty ticked off right now 'cause of my roommate and her boyfriend.

They've been seriously annoying me lately. He's been here, staying in this extremely tiny room for nearly THREE WEEKS STRAIGHT, and today, when my RA came to ask where we were living next semester, he was the one who opened the door. And apparently she smells something on his jacket or something, because five minutes later we have the police at our door, wanting to do a SEARCH for MARIJUANA.

Great. Just great.

Of course, they didn't find anything--although I know Carlton does smoke it, just not here. It would be disrespectful, he says--but still. They went through the whole process of looking through our stuff and bringing the dog in to sniff everything, and then they interrogated us and accused us of being high right then--trying to get us to just crack and confess and tell them where it was.

In two years living on this floor, there has never been a drug search, even though there were people who did drugs in their room, and when it does happen, it happens to my room.

Aren't I just lucky.

*sigh*

I can't wait for this semester to be over. And yay for finding an apartment for next year.


In other news, I just wrote something for a Nine/Rose ficathon (which can be found here) tonight, because once again, I can't sleep, and because I haven't read or written anything for Doctor Who in a while, and I miss it.

My grandma died today. She had cancer. Lung cancer that had spread througout her body because they didn't catch it in time and she was already to old and sick to try chemo. She'd been living with us since Christmas, but a few weeks ago she decided she was miserable here and wanted to move to my aunts, so we let her. And she died there. I guess that's alright. It means that I won't have to pass by the living room that we turned into a sickroom and always associate it with the place where she died.

I'm kind of numb at the moment, I know I probably won't be really upset until a few days after the funeral--seems to be pattern. (Is it sad that I can say I have a funeral pattern? It's just that a lot of people have died in my family recently.) In a few days I will probably see something of hers--like the ink-stained bible she gave me a few years ago, or the extremely fat cat she doted on, or her collection of Ma and Pa Kettle movies--and break down. I'm more worried about my mom right now. She took it really hard, and I know that the fact we all knew it was coming doesn't ease the blow at all for her. Despite her apparent acceptance of inevitablity,I  know she always hoped Mammaw would get better, even if it was just a for a little while longer.

And this is just a week before the anniversary of my grandpa's death two years ago so I know she'll be mourning him again, too.

My brother and sister have their school musical and their vocal contests tomorrow, so my parents decided not to tell them about Mammaw yet. Just so they wouldn't be too upset too perform and ruin what they have been looking forward too. I don't agree with this. I know my brother and sister and when they find out this was kept from them they are going to be pissed. Especially Emily. She's going to be out for blood.  She was already confused about why, when she was showing off the dress she picked out to where to the contest tomorrow, our mom was just staring at her with a blank look on her face, slowly shoving soggy steak 'n shake fries in her mouth. And I have a feeling she is going to decide not to go to the state competition tomorrow, which will upset my siblings, because they won't understand why and they'll just see it as Mom letting them down again,  and breaking another promise again.

Though maybe its best. I know my mom and the only way she knows how to deal with grief is by getting angry. Like, Big Time angry, and at everyone. When my grandpa died she almost ruined my sister's wedding because of her big freak out where she practically disowned my sister because she didn't like the invitations.  Nathan and Emily don't need Mom taking it out on them when they are trying to do their best to perform and compete.

I should get to sleep. Tomorrow I have to be both Happy!Support person and Grief!Support person at the same time, and possibly a Peace Maker as well.

It's going to be a very long weekend.

Classes were cancelled today! *dances*

One of the few times I am actually grateful for the snow.

So I'm back in the study lounge.

Why am I back in the study lounge at nearly four in the morning?

The light from my computer keeps my new roommate up. Never mind the fact that I sleep during the day and she doesn't give a shit if she wakes me up in the morning when her and her friend start chattering on the phone to some married guy they both had sex with at some point, or when she blow dries her hair in the room instead of the bathroom, with, I swear, the loudest blow drier I have heard in my life.

The only reason I'm giving in is because I didn't come back until after three this morning and I know I woke her up when I came in.

I am too damn nice.

Some chick is also in this study lounge, currently having a very heated and tearful argument with her boyfriend. I would leave to give her privacy (though she doesn't seem to care that I am here, by the sound of everything) but I have to get this story done for my fiction writing class, and there is no where else to go.


I am so done with dorm life.

So for the past several years, Thanksgiving has always sucked. I mean like big time.  I've always said that Thanksgiving is the unluckiest holiday of the year and I had many reasons to believe so.

Whole night and day spent in the emergency room.

Big fight between my parents and my older sister, causing her to move out.

Death of my uncle.

Anniversary of my uncle's death.


I haven't had good Thanksgivings, and I've usually posted on here to complain about it. (See tags rant or family). But this year, despite the fact that I have been up since three-thirty this morning and my mom went completely psycho over dinner plates and fine crystal, (and napkins and runners and the real silverware and which side does the wine glass go on?), Thanksgiving this year wasn't that bad. Even my cheesecake, my New York Baked Cheesecake that everybody told me wouldn't come out the first time I ever made it, it turned out great.

I don't know whats gonig on.

My cousin in law has been playing with the lighter we used for the candles. I'm waiting for him to burn down the entire house, just because I'm sure the Powers That Be will want to be sure to continue the tradition.


(Powers That Be. Hahaha. I've watched far too much Buffy and Angel.)