Days Like Today

I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Maybe even sleep for a few weeks. I know I’ve mentioned how much my dreams bother me, but even they’re preferable to the way I’m feeling right now.

I think the hardest part for me is knowing that the way I’m feeling is completely irrational. I take slight scoldings and treat them like the end of the world. And, to me, they are. Because if someone has to scold me, I messed up in a miniscule way that I ought to have been able to correct on my own. Instead, someone else has to notice it and tell me to fix it.

And, if there’s one thing I hate, it’s other people telling me how to do things. I love to learn, but I don’t like it when I think I have it down and mess up. Like this morning when I was on watch. I was yelled at for something so small and that I had no way of knowing, but it still hurt me. It hurt me to the point where all my irrational fears and doubts came back up to the surface, the ones I’d been working so hard to get past.

I know I’m better than that. I know I’m a good person who wouldn’t try to do things wrong on purpose. I know there’s no reason for me to feel like shit every time someone tells me I messed up.

But I do.

And it scares me because, if this is how I react in the military, how am I going to behave in the civilian world? How am I going to handle not having a chain of command to help me with everything? Not that they really help me much, but they’re a convenient source of blame.

But, the point is, when I get out, I’ll have no one to blame but myself. And, really, that scares me, too. Because I play the blame game. I don’t like that, but I do. And, if the only person I can blame is myself, then I’m going to blame myself for a lot. Probably more than I actually deserve (because I’m a masochist like that), but I’d be shouldering a lot. And I’m scared that, when that day comes, I might be alone.

I’m not saying there’s trouble in paradise, far from it. Relationship-wise, the only problem I really have is that he’s shouldering a lot of my stress and burdens right now and, even though I know the day will come where he’ll need me to do the same, I feel guilty. They’re my problems. No one else should have to put up with them (Oh, that’s an old wound, isn’t it?).

I should stop now. I’m rambling because I’m tired and have to stay up even longer than I wanted to. I planned to go to bed after dinner, which I skipped to type this up. It’s ok, though, I’m not all that hungry. I had a very big burger for lunch (because I skipped breakfast).

Ok. Rambling’s done. Posting now.

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Why Aren’t You Real?

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished fictional characters were real. It was a huge thing when I was a little girl and still is to this day. Heck, I’ve even wished some of the villains were real so I could go along with the good guys to stop them.

But I’ve never wished characters were real more than when I became a fan of Supernatural, Sherlock, and Doctor Who. I mean, not only are the characters likable and, well, downright drool-worthy, but they’re very real, very believable. I could believe in Sam and Dean, I could definitely believe in Sherlock, and I desperately want to believe in the Doctor. I want to believe in them so badly even though I know they’re just actors on a TV show. It makes me feel like a little kid telling her parents that Little Foot was real and how could they possibly know he wasn’t because they weren’t there.

And, as soon as I wrote that, I thought to myself, “That’s totally something the Doctor would say!”

See what I mean? I’m borderline obsessed.

Actually, I don’t know why I throw in “borderline.” Face the facts, ginger, you’re obsessed.

But I think that happens to all fans of these series.

I adore the cast of Supernatural, on and off set. Jared and Jensen are hilarious and I love Misha to bits. I even kinda ish know Jim sorta. By that, I mean, I’m a Facebook/Twitter follower and occasionally get responses, depending on what I’ve posted and all that. But I doubt he’d recognize me in a crowded airport.

I’m not nearly as close with the cast and crew of Sherlock/Doctor Who. I follow them a bit, but mostly just try to be understanding of the fact that they value their personal lives too much to be actively involved in social media. But I love that Martin and Benedict are going to be in the second Hobbit and I’m fangirling over the new Star Trek right now simply because I get to see Zachary Quinto and Benedict in the same movie. I mean, come on! That alone is enough to make me giddy.

But, yeah, I love these guys and wish I could be a more involved person with the production of these sorts of things instead of being in the Navy. I almost feel like the stress from working on those sorts of things would be much more rewarding than life on the ship. In the Navy, it feels like there is no real reward for doing well. At least, not on my ship. If you ever do really well at something, the most you get is a pat on the back.

Well, and a paycheck every couple weeks. That’s always a good thing. But, y’all know what I mean, right? Sometimes, when work is all you have, you’d like a little bit of a confirmation that you’re legitimately doing a good job. It shouldn’t be, in my opinion, that you have to work yourself to death to get a slight form of recognition.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Love y’all lots,

Izzie

Study Buddies~!

So excited! I have a study partner for the E-5 exam! And he’s clearly the smartest in my work center, so I stand to gain a lot from studying with him.

Of course, there’s always the potential for disaster. Why?

Because he’s the same person I have a crush on. And he’s clearly trying to find excuses to be around me, which I really don’t mind. I just want to make sure that I don’t get in trouble. As I’ve said, dating people in the work center is a big no-no. We’ve already lost one tech that way. Of course, if I permanently become DCPO, that won’t really be a problem, huh?

Also, there’s potential for drama. I’ve been thinking about it off and on throughout the day. My ex, who is quite possibly the sweetest, kindest man in the world (he still treats me like I’m an amazing woman even though I’m not), started mailing me letters while I was on deployment last year. No one knew about this, of course; I keep the majority of my personal life personal. But, over deployment, I didn’t get a single letter and I just now got his first letter.

The problem? Every woman in my division knows about it. They haven’t told any of the guys, but I get the feeling that this is going to blow up in some way later down the line. Murphy’s Law, you know?

Oh, and, remember how I mentioned that special breed of asshole? Turns out, my day wasn’t miserable.

Quite the opposite.

Out of the Pan

And onto the plate. No fire for me.

Just moved somewhere infinitely nicer than Blogspot. I’d pretty much just picked the first thing that popped up on Google when I was looking to start a blog. And, being the stubborn individual that I am, I refused to let people who’d gone before me into the realm of blogging tell me what to do and how lame Blogspot was.

I stand quite firmly corrected.

So, I’ve decided to move. I don’t think I’ll carry over my old posts. If you want to read them anyway (and boost my pageview count), the URL is http://superwholockian.blogspot.com

All right, a little about me.

I’m 21 years old and currently serve in the US Navy as a Fire Controllman. I’m a Petty Officer Third Class, which, for those who aren’t particularly familiar with the US Navy ranking system, means I’m enlisted. I work on the SPY-1D radar system.

But my job doesn’t define me. I’m an aspiring writer and artist, though I lean a lot more towards writing than drawing. Mostly because the niche for American anime artists is quite small and, while I love my art, I could never make it into a profession. I’m still having trouble believing I could make my stories something I do professionally. I just can’t not share my writing. Even if it isn’t that good, something inside just says to share it because, if I enjoyed writing it and reading it and editing it, odds are, the end product will be interesting to someone else, too. And I adore making other people happy through the things I do.

I don’t claim any real stereotype other than I’m a smartass

Oh, and I swear. Sorry, occupational hazard.

But, yeah, I’m a total smartass. Not necessarily smart all the time, but, if I see an opportunity for snark, I take it.

On the flip side, though, I tend to be a bit overemotional. Well, not really “a bit.” I tend to be quite overemotional. I’m working on it, but that’s a topic for another day. Most likely, one where I’ve actually been overemotional.

Well, that’s all for now. I think this is a succinct introduction.

 

 

I hope.