August 30, 2015:
So hello, new journal. Here's hoping I update you a little more than once in a while.
To be fair to myself, it wasn't so much lack of interest keeping me from all things social media. Remember the new (as of last year) job? Turns out the turnover is a bit, uh...high. New people seem to run for it the second they see what title work in the state of Pennsylvania involves, if they're not outright drowned at the reception desk their first week in, and once one bails, the rest of the office has to pick up the slack...and when you pile on too much additional work, even your veteran agents start thinking, "maybe Aldi's is hiring." And the more people leave, the worse the workload gets, in turn driving more people to look elsewhere, which means the last agents standing get a lot of "eleven hour shifts mean overtime pay!" emails, which in turn means exhaustion and too much caffeine and no free time.
I'm disinclined to escape just yet. I'm making almost twice what I made at my last crappy, crappy job, and this one comes with nice things like insurance and vacation time and paid holidays off. There are better jobs out there, sure, but so help me, I get to sit down and I don't have to touch feet.
But then I came down with a cough that turned into a MedExpress visit that turned into leaving with a paper bag full antibiotics and steroids and a tentative diagnoses of bronchitis, strep, and a severe ear infection all at once, and that wasn't even the sickest I'd been all year so gods know what I was powering through during the holiday season. I ended up going to another concert with Gautam a week later (Bear Hands/Foals/Silversun Pickups/Cage the Elephant; left underwhelmed by Silversun Pickups and couldn't remember much of Bear Hands, but I liked Foals and Cage the Elephant enough to buy CDs between sets), nearly collapsed by the end of the headlining act, and had to take it easy for another two weeks.
Add a lot of family drama to the mix and, well, time off has more or less been used for sleeping, as of late. A lot of sleeping. Never enough sleeping.
But our fail-whale of a manager somehow failed his way into a promotion, and our new manager starts next month and used to be a licensing agent, so the work schedule, at least, might blow a little less in the future. And I did manage to leave the house, occasionally...still managed Tekko, and even managed a new costume, and that costume will absolutely be worn again because I've wanted to do a Jareth cosplay for years and the response from other congoers was pretty phenomenal. At last I know the thrill of needing half an hour to make the seven-minute walk to the dealers' room! Alas, poor Rachel, stuck holding my bag whenever somebody stopped us with that particular half-timid voice to ask for a picture, unless the person in question was a very tall drunk woman in a restaurant bathroom, in which case there was desperate hand-clasping and shrieking to a friend in stall two to come out right now, David Bowie is here. One person rolled down her arm-sock to show me her Labyrinth tattoo. A number of people high-fived me. It was a fun con.
I ended up falling in love with Preacher, in spite of not even watching the pilot on purpose, and that's been fun, because it was looking like nothing but The Walking Dead was going to hold my interest, and it's been kind of a challenge to be at all excited about the new season now that we've hit the Negan arc, which means seasons upon seasons of pain and misery and character-death if it keeps to the comic at all, and the fact that the most evil motherfucker in the series is being played by Jeffrey Dean Sex-on-Legs Morgan just makes things uncomfortable. I gave up on Hell on Wheels after three episodes, lost interest in Into the Badlands after two, and no matter how hard I try to talk myself into liking Fear the Walking Dead, the fact remains that it's just. Not. Good. But Preacher... Preacher's been fun. Dark enough to be compelling, comedic enough not to get dreary, absurd enough to keep things lively, and every single character is interesting in their own right. It's been a long time since I've even been interested in the protagonist of an AMC series, never mind the backup cast, and anything that lets me bro-ship a vice-riddled alcoholic preacher with a snarky, ferociously loyal vampire with great eyebrows and a substance abuse problem is kind of an instant win. Did I mentioned Fiore and DeBlanc? Fiore and DeBlanc make everything better. It's by no means a shot-by-shot recreation of the comics, but it's crazy-enjoyable in its own right, and worth a watch if you like supernatural black comedies and oddball friendships.
What else, what else...Gautam and I did Phantom Fright Night at Kennywood, and it was way more fun than it had any right to be in spite of coming at the end of a six-day work week (a couple of hours after my day six shift, even) and almost no sleep, and even though I fell asleep in the car, and in the shower, and during some of the longer line waits, and completely tripped out over a Great Horned Owl outside my window, I was glad I went. Tip if you go: it's worth it to drop the extra twenty bucks to skip the lines for the haunts. You're looking at a ten-minute wait at most if you do, and well over an hour if you don't. Another tip: the Exterminator is worth the wait to ride it in the dark. One last tip: there are monsters in the fog. They will jump out at you.
And now I suppose I ought to eat something, and fix a drink for the Walking Dead premiere, and finally see who got the bat last season finale...the big money's on Glenn or Abraham, but it's going to suck no matter who it is. And then sleep, because I've got another six-day work week ahead of me.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll manage to update this again in the next month.