So, who are you, really?

Dear *Ghods*, I hate it when people ask me that.

There's no complete *and* quick way to answer that. And the short answer (Generally "I'm Gesi...") makes people think I'm being sarcastic (sometimes I am, sometimes I'm not...but I'm *Still* Gesi at the end of it all.).

And, if they don't care to hang around with me for a while, what the fuck business is it of theirs who I am?

My brother posted a thingie last week about being too introspective...Me too. I don't know how to get out of that though...I mean...you have to think about stuff to fix it, but being introspective about being worried about being introspective is just...useless. And it uses the word Being too often.

Must find new E-mail program soon...Eudora is tooooooo bloated, MailWarrior pisses me off, Pegasus is out 'cause Jeff uses it and I don't want to screw things up by having two running at the same time...PocoMail takes too damn long to do *anything*...using the mail client that came with Opera deletes my bookmarks (no, I don't know why...I think it hates me.;) I swear, one day, when I get five minutes to myself, I'm writing my own damn mail program.

Too bad the pipples who wrote Gravity don't do mail progs.

I'll be glad when we move...even if we don't know where we're moving...at least it'll be a step forward. And a good chance to get rid of a lot of the stuff we don't use and won't miss at *all*.

If we don't find somewhere in time, we're going to be at an Extended Stay hotel...hopefully. I guess we can always go back to the Valencia. Except for the whole "I'd rather gnaw my arm off than live there again" aspect...:)

It'll work out...this is one of those things I'm confident of. I'd *really* like to have a house...or something that isn't an apartment...when I was a kid, I didn't get it, but now I understand my mother's aversion to them.

Under everything is this melancholy that I *hate* with a passion you wouldn't think possible for someone with a melancholy.

Daniel, I didn't get your message till right this second (my phone was exiled in the car 'cause I forgot my bag, and then it died literally *just* as I was starting to listen to the message...so I'll call you sometime this week, as soon as I'm able.) (So, that means March, right? ;)

I feel...something. I don't know...is it enough to feel things you can't name? (Oh shit, there she goes again.) Bleh.

Mum got Sam a Toddler bed for her big Holiday present. Not 'cause she's got a problem with us co-sleeping, but 'cause she thinks Sam should have someplace all for herself, and I reallyreally agree with that. (now if only I had a place all for *myself*...)...we got around to building it on Thursday night (Its currently at the foot of our bed...we'll be moving it next to my side soon, but that will take furniture shuffling.)...kid had a blast dancing on the mattress.:) And, miracle of miracles, she *Slept* in it on Friday. I put her in, expecting her to wake up and scowl at me, then move her into the big bed...instead, she woke up a tiny bit when I covered her, then went right back to sleep and stayed that way till the wee hours of Sat morning, when she crawled in with us.

She's sleeping in her bed again tonight...under a zillion covers 'cause the bedroom is sub-terrainan (no, really , it is.) and damn cold.

Jeff just got up for work...which means I should probably go to bed soon.

I can't remember why I started writing. Not that I really *Need* a point to write...but it'd be nice to know when to stop.

I feel this great need to dye my hair blue...well, electric blue with purple mixed in to see what I get. And since I had Jeff cut my hair day before yesterday ('cause I can't get the back even by myself) and bleached the hell out of it, everything is ready to go.

But.

What if this stops us from getting a house? What if someone who holds the deed to our dream house doesn't want to rent to people with blue hair?

On the other hand,

Would I want to live somewhere owned/run by people who would judge others by their *hair* *color*? 'Cause if they don't' like my hair, they're probably not going to like my clothes, beliefs, sexuality, friends, kid, Family, boots, car, pets that I don't have yet, crafting, parties, furniture, number of books I own, kind of music I listen to and what kind of art I have on the walls.

So, you know...screw them. No wait, don't...that means there'd be the possibility of more of 'em.

Too bad I don't have time to dye it for Matt's party tonight. But the way it bleeds, I'd be afraid of leaving marks on the chairs.

Someone said "She's 21 months? She should be talking by now." Gee,thanks for implying my daughter is broken.

She'll talk when she damn well pleases, and since she communicates, has a bunch of words, and seems to hear just fine, I won't worry for a few years.

I hate the "Should by " things. Actually, I don't. I hate the way they're used. Guidelines are good, so you can read ahead and get a feel for the terrain...but for some reason, a lot of them have become set in stone, at least when it comes to kids, and parents are made to feel that something's wrong when the kid is just *fine* and will get to hir milestones when sie gets there.

Of course, I didn't *say* any of this...

Amanda's right. I *am* timid.

Dammit.

G'night.

Love your guts.

So, who are you, really?

Dear *Ghods*, I hate it when people ask me that.

There's no complete *and* quick way to answer that. And the short answer (Generally "I'm Gesi...") makes people think I'm being sarcastic (sometimes I am, sometimes I'm not...but I'm *Still* Gesi at the end of it all.).

And, if they don't care to hang around with me for a while, what the fuck business is it of theirs who I am?

My brother posted a thingie last week about being too introspective...Me too. I don't know how to get out of that though...I mean...you have to think about stuff to fix it, but being introspective about being worried about being introspective is just...useless. And it uses the word Being too often.

Must find new E-mail program soon...Eudora is tooooooo bloated, MailWarrior pisses me off, Pegasus is out 'cause Jeff uses it and I don't want to screw things up by having two running at the same time...PocoMail takes too damn long to do *anything*...using the mail client that came with Opera deletes my bookmarks (no, I don't know why...I think it hates me.;) I swear, one day, when I get five minutes to myself, I'm writing my own damn mail program.

Too bad the pipples who wrote Gravity don't do mail progs.

I'll be glad when we move...even if we don't know where we're moving...at least it'll be a step forward. And a good chance to get rid of a lot of the stuff we don't use and won't miss at *all*.

If we don't find somewhere in time, we're going to be at an Extended Stay hotel...hopefully. I guess we can always go back to the Valencia. Except for the whole "I'd rather gnaw my arm off than live there again" aspect...:)

It'll work out...this is one of those things I'm confident of. I'd *really* like to have a house...or something that isn't an apartment...when I was a kid, I didn't get it, but now I understand my mother's aversion to them.

Under everything is this melancholy that I *hate* with a passion you wouldn't think possible for someone with a melancholy.

Daniel, I didn't get your message till right this second (my phone was exiled in the car 'cause I forgot my bag, and then it died literally *just* as I was starting to listen to the message...so I'll call you sometime this week, as soon as I'm able.) (So, that means March, right? ;)

I feel...something. I don't know...is it enough to feel things you can't name? (Oh shit, there she goes again.) Bleh.

Mum got Sam a Toddler bed for her big Holiday present. Not 'cause she's got a problem with us co-sleeping, but 'cause she thinks Sam should have someplace all for herself, and I reallyreally agree with that. (now if only I had a place all for *myself*...)...we got around to building it on Thursday night (Its currently at the foot of our bed...we'll be moving it next to my side soon, but that will take furniture shuffling.)...kid had a blast dancing on the mattress.:) And, miracle of miracles, she *Slept* in it on Friday. I put her in, expecting her to wake up and scowl at me, then move her into the big bed...instead, she woke up a tiny bit when I covered her, then went right back to sleep and stayed that way till the wee hours of Sat morning, when she crawled in with us.

She's sleeping in her bed again tonight...under a zillion covers 'cause the bedroom is sub-terrainan (no, really , it is.) and damn cold.

Jeff just got up for work...which means I should probably go to bed soon.

I can't remember why I started writing. Not that I really *Need* a point to write...but it'd be nice to know when to stop.

I feel this great need to dye my hair blue...well, electric blue with purple mixed in to see what I get. And since I had Jeff cut my hair day before yesterday ('cause I can't get the back even by myself) and bleached the hell out of it, everything is ready to go.

But.

What if this stops us from getting a house? What if someone who holds the deed to our dream house doesn't want to rent to people with blue hair?

On the other hand,

Would I want to live somewhere owned/run by people who would judge others by their *hair* *color*? 'Cause if they don't' like my hair, they're probably not going to like my clothes, beliefs, sexuality, friends, kid, Family, boots, car, pets that I don't have yet, crafting, parties, furniture, number of books I own, kind of music I listen to and what kind of art I have on the walls.

So, you know...screw them. No wait, don't...that means there'd be the possibility of more of 'em.

Too bad I don't have time to dye it for Matt's party tonight. But the way it bleeds, I'd be afraid of leaving marks on the chairs.

Someone said "She's 21 months? She should be talking by now." Gee,thanks for implying my daughter is broken.

She'll talk when she damn well pleases, and since she communicates, has a bunch of words, and seems to hear just fine, I won't worry for a few years.

I hate the "Should by " things. Actually, I don't. I hate the way they're used. Guidelines are good, so you can read ahead and get a feel for the terrain...but for some reason, a lot of them have become set in stone, at least when it comes to kids, and parents are made to feel that something's wrong when the kid is just *fine* and will get to hir milestones when sie gets there.

Of course, I didn't *say* any of this...

Amanda's right. I *am* timid.

Dammit.

G'night.

Love your guts.