dreamcatchings: (buffy: never normal)
Dear Mile High Comics,

You send me all these emails about wonderful sales, but then you never have anything I want in stock. It's disappointing and makes me not want to even visit your website, which sucks because I'd rather support you than Amazon because, ngl, Amazin gets so much more of my business when it comes to everything else. Seriously, though, buy some TPBs and keep them in stock.

Love,

Me
dreamcatchings: (keifer: bitch)
Last night Patrick convinced me to meet him at a bar for a couple of drinks after he got off work. It should be noted that Patrick has a shift that results in him getting off work at 1am. The bar we frequent is, like most things, about a half an hour away from me. He had to go home for his wallet, so I left a little later than I normally do to get there in time. Well. Not even 10 minutes down the road, I get pulled over by a cop (first time ever) because I didn't use my signal when I made a right turn onto Grant Line (street names are going to make no difference to most of you). He pulls me over on the side of the on ramp to the interstate (which seems like a dumb place to stop someone to me), and I swear to god that it almost felt like he hit my car. After I had come to a stop, put the car in park and turned it off, it felt like there was bump and a noise from behind me. (I checked the car once I got to my destination, but it was night time so I couldn't see much. I'll try and get myself together enough today to wander out for another look.)

So he comes up and tells me I forgot my signal, which, um, I did. I simply forgot. It was foggy so I was working really hard on making sure I could see through that, and I'm not 100% comfortable with the new car yet. I told him these things when he asked. There's not much you can say about not using the turn signal. I got distracted by the fog and forgot to flip it on. Simple as that.

I have no qualms with that really. I think it's dumb to waste man power on a signal in the middle of the night when there was traffic around me for me to confuse with my lack of signal but whatever. I was in the wrong there.

Now comes the thing that pisses me off:

He asks why I'm out so late. I tell him I'm going to visit a friend (omitting the bar part because, yeah, I'm not dumb). He asks me if I don't think it's a little too late to be visiting. I tell him that my friend gets off work at 1am, and we work late.

He takes my license and the sales documents for my car since I don't have the registration yet because the paperwork hasn't come in and goes off to run my license. He eventually sends me off with a warning AFTER he backs out of the on ramp.

I don't have a problem with authority figures, not in general. I'm not one of those people who goes against the rules simply to go against the rules or sees people in power as fascist dictators. I do have a problem with hypocritical authority figures and those who abuse their power. I can't say that I know much about law enforcement. I don't know if the officer should show you his badge or tell you his name unless you ask. The person who pulled me over did not offer, and I did not ask. That might have been a mistake. I also did not point blank ask him if he hit my car although I wanted to because it sure did feel like he bumped me.

I don't think it was fair or right of him to try and make me feel that I should not be capable of making my own decisions as far as when to visit my friends. I am a grown woman. I pay taxes, my rent, my various debts and bills, etc. I have not been arrested. I do not have a warrant out. To my knowledge, my car was in working order. I had not been drinking or taking drugs of any kind prior to driving. I did not turn on a signal because I concerned about driving in the fog and was clearing my windshield. As far as I am aware, there is no curfew in my area. I don't appreciate the implication that it is too late for me to be driving somewhere if I decided to.

It also seems wildly inappropriate for him to back out of the on ramp.

The almost lecture just bothers me. The implication. The meaning behind the words and the tone. I don't appreciate when anyone takes that tone with me.
dreamcatchings: (Default)
Last night Patrick convinced me to meet him at a bar for a couple of drinks after he got off work. It should be noted that Patrick has a shift that results in him getting off work at 1am. The bar we frequent is, like most things, about a half an hour away from me. He had to go home for his wallet, so I left a little later than I normally do to get there in time. Well. Not even 10 minutes down the road, I get pulled over by a cop (first time ever) because I didn't use my signal when I made a right turn onto Grant Line (street names are going to make no difference to most of you). He pulls me over on the side of the on ramp to the interstate (which seems like a dumb place to stop someone to me), and I swear to god that it almost felt like he hit my car. After I had come to a stop, put the car in park and turned it off, it felt like there was bump and a noise from behind me. (I checked the car once I got to my destination, but it was night time so I couldn't see much. I'll try and get myself together enough today to wander out for another look.)

So he comes up and tells me I forgot my signal, which, um, I did. I simply forgot. It was foggy so I was working really hard on making sure I could see through that, and I'm not 100% comfortable with the new car yet. I told him these things when he asked. There's not much you can say about not using the turn signal. I got distracted by the fog and forgot to flip it on. Simple as that.

I have no qualms with that really. I think it's dumb to waste man power on a signal in the middle of the night when there was traffic around me for me to confuse with my lack of signal but whatever. I was in the wrong there.

Now comes the thing that pisses me off:

He asks why I'm out so late. I tell him I'm going to visit a friend (omitting the bar part because, yeah, I'm not dumb). He asks me if I don't think it's a little too late to be visiting. I tell him that my friend gets off work at 1am, and we work late.

He takes my license and the sales documents for my car since I don't have the registration yet because the paperwork hasn't come in and goes off to run my license. He eventually sends me off with a warning AFTER he backs out of the on ramp.

I don't have a problem with authority figures, not in general. I'm not one of those people who goes against the rules simply to go against the rules or sees people in power as fascist dictators. I do have a problem with hypocritical authority figures and those who abuse their power. I can't say that I know much about law enforcement. I don't know if the officer should show you his badge or tell you his name unless you ask. The person who pulled me over did not offer, and I did not ask. That might have been a mistake. I also did not point blank ask him if he hit my car although I wanted to because it sure did feel like he bumped me.

I don't think it was fair or right of him to try and make me feel that I should not be capable of making my own decisions as far as when to visit my friends. I am a grown woman. I pay taxes, my rent, my various debts and bills, etc. I have not been arrested. I do not have a warrant out. To my knowledge, my car was in working order. I had not been drinking or taking drugs of any kind prior to driving. I did not turn on a signal because I concerned about driving in the fog and was clearing my windshield. As far as I am aware, there is no curfew in my area. I don't appreciate the implication that it is too late for me to be driving somewhere if I decided to.

It also seems wildly inappropriate for him to back out of the on ramp.

The almost lecture just bothers me. The implication. The meaning behind the words and the tone. I don't appreciate when anyone takes that tone with me.
dreamcatchings: (study)
And now for something completely different.

Technology rant.

I need a new digital camera. My current one is the suck. It drains batteries faster than a cheap whore when sailors are on leave. It also has really low megapixels, which results in some pretty terrible picture quality unless you select "best" at which point you can shoot 33 pictures at best and that's with the 512MB memory card in it. It will not see larger memory cards. I have a 2GB that I bought all for it, and it can't see it. All in all, it annoys me and with digital cameras and photo printers finally starting to rival film cameras, I want an upgrade. I want an upgrade in time for my party, which means that I might be going to buy this spiffy Canon with 10 megapixel, 4x optical and 4x digital zoom. Here have a link. That's the one I'm debating. The second runner up was this baby, but it loses because it offers less megapixels, and only has 3x optical zoom. Not to mention that the second one only takes the Canon battery pack. That annoys me. I like to use AA's, thank you very much. I was really only tempted by the second because it is sleeker, which is something that I enjoy. It would fit in a pocket or purse better but the difference between the two really isn't all that substantial size-wise.

Deciding on a Canon camera was the easy part. I have three film cameras (although I cannot for the life of my manage to find the third one). Of the two I can locate, one is a Canon 35M point and shoot and the other is a Kodak APS point and shoot with a 2x optical zoom. The Kodak is newer but in no way nicer. The Canon camera takes beautiful pictures. The images are always crisp and clean, and it is old. It is old as in I got it for a birthday present when my parents were still together. I was probably in high school, but I can't recall. It's that old, and it works like a charm. The Kodak has questionable quality, especially when you zoom. The images get pixellated. I love Kodak prints. When I have film developed, I always go for Kodak if the place has it, but the camera itself cannot compare with my Canon. My third (missing) camera is another APS camera, which I loved. I cannot remember what type of camera it was. I know it was point and shoot and did not have optical zoom, but it had better picture quality than the current Kodak APS. I'm sad that I can't find it because I still have a few rolls of APS film I need to shoot.

Then we get the my photo printer, which was a present from my dad a few months after he got me the camera. (Well, more like half a year. The camera was for Christmas and then the printer was for the following birthday when he wanted me to print out the pictures I had taken with the camera when I was in England.) My HP Photosmart 245 worked like a charm. I never used it much due to the above stated fact of still preferring the quality of film, but it did its job. And then, suddenly, I went to turn it on and the damn thing won't light up. At all. I've done everything with it and the power cord that my troubleshooting skills can consider and nothing. It's DOA. I looked around to see if I could find a replacement power cord and those fucking things range from $35 to $60. I can buy a new photo printer that has a LCD touchscreen for cropping pictures, prints more sizes and is faster for $100. I think my decision is made there, too. Here's the printer I'm considering.

So, basically, I can drop a little over $300 and have a nice camera and photo printer set, which would be awesome because I would like to have both. I'd like to get myself back into photography. Well, amateur photography anyway, and it would be nice to have pictures of my current friends. I sort of stopped taking pictures shortly after college ended, which would probably surprise all my college friends because I was something of an annoying shutterbug.

That's enough of that rant. I'll probably be buying the camera and the printer later today because the party is next Saturday. That's not a lot of time.
dreamcatchings: (trust)
I went to bed:


  • pissed off
  • with a headache
  • with a stomachache



I woke up:


  • pissed off
  • with a headache
  • with a stomachache



I consider myself fairly even tempered. I am slow to anger. When compared with most of my family members throughout my life, I have been on slow boil as opposed to boiling over. My mother? Inherited her father's Irish temper and can go off at the drop of a hat sometimes. Seriously. Most of the time, I just walk away from it because it's easier. And it goes on down the line with varying degrees of the time it takes.

I've always been slow on anger and fast on understanding. Most of the time I feel guilty over things whether they are or are not my fault and apologize for everything. Constantly. (Just ask the people I talk to in person and online who have told me to stop saying I'm sorry numerous times. It just never ends. This also must be some sort of cultural memory Catholic guilt because I was not raised in the Catholic Church. I was not raised in any church. I've been to a few. I've been invited to more. I have, at this point, decided that organized religion is not something that I can respect or engender. I like some of the precepts of the Catholic Church, but I will not be told how to believe in the Divine. I believe it is a part of everyone and everything. You worship it in the way that you see fit and where you see fit. Different gods, different religions are all simply ways in which different people chose to see the Divine. It's all the same. No one's belief is better than anyone else's. I'm at peace with this. I'm more at peace with myself believing this way than I have ever been at peace with myself with my spirituality. That's what matters.) Anyway, I digress.

I am slow boil. It takes me a long time to get mad. I keep lists, I make excuses, I let it pile. And then I explode like a volcano. I like balance. I'm a Libra. It's natural for my to try and attain balance and harmony in all things. (You may believe that astrology is hooey, but I have so many Libra traits down to a T that I cannot help but believe it.) When I'm mad, though, I am mad for a while. I can be mad for hours, days, weeks. I can rehash things from years ago and still be pissed about them. (Which can backfire on me when I use things from the past to beat myself up with.)

Argh. Basically, I am still pissed. I am still so two degrees from livid that it's not even funny. And it's also not that entirely pleasant because I am sure that this is causing both the headache and the stomachache. (I have been getting really bad headaches with an increasing frequency again. Compare this to my college years when I maybe had a headache and most of them were mild enough that I didn't even need to take over the counter pain relief for them. These are head encompassing, light makes it worse, sound makes it worse headaches that make me want to punch people in their faces and laugh. Something isn't right here.)

My head hurts. My nerves are shot. I am still twitchy from last night. Still. I want nothing more than to tell these people to fuck off and never go back there again.

But I can't. I fucking can't. I can't because my guilt won't let me. We need the money. We need the income. The cold hard fact is that the consumer, commercialist society that we live in demands the cold, hard dollar. You either pay up or you get out. There is no room for anything else. Either you feed your soul into the corporate machine and become a cog in its mechanizations or you're exiled, labeled an extremist or a reformist or some other -ist that no one likes. And you can flail around looking for something to sustain yourself but everything within reach has no nutritional value and tastes like cardboard.

Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry America. I don't have blind faith in you. I have socialistic values based on treating everyone fairly that demand national health insurance and perhaps the drive for better public transportation in order to help ease the load on the environment so that we have a planet later on down the line. I am fed up and sick of the world of tiers and hierarchies that demand I fit into this little box and like it. That I put my trust in something that I have not seen work for me or mine very much. I am fed up with a culture that told me getting an education would be enough to get me into a good job and then had the smackdown put on me by the workforce when I was told I lacked adequate experience for anything that doesn't make me want to do bodily harm to myself or others. I am sick of living in the land of opportunity when the prices of everything except my pay are rising, and I am getting raped of all my income.

I'm fucking sick of it.

Bleck. I have to go eat something so that I can go to my shitty job and make my shitty, soul devouring money so that I can pay my fucktastic bills and continue my monotonous cog-like existence.
dreamcatchings: (gert: quote)
We were in a queue tonight. Again. (Which, incidentally, is what happens when you fire at least 12 people and then make the rest so miserable that people are quitting left and right and yet you still want to fire more people because we haven't lost enough to natural attrition and then bitch at us to keep the service level about 80% when two months ago, we were being told that the service level is too high. Motherfuckers!)

So whatever. Queue. One call after another after another. Which are now apparently supposed to be dealt with as soon as possible rather than doing everything in one's power to fix the problem. Whatever. Motherfuckers.

I get a call. Older woman. Spyware problems. Nothing I can do. Her computer is so fucking hosed that over the phone I am powerless. The issue?

She. Will. Not. Shut. Up.

Won't. Shut up.

I can barely get in a word, and when I do, I am repeating myself over and over that she needs to contact Yahoo about someone posting under her id, get her computer cleaned and that there is nothing I can do about the way her Myspace page looks.

She doesn't get it.

We go around and around.

After 50 minutes, a supe comes over, asks if everything is cool, if I need help (which, btw, you motherfucker I've been here since October, have gotten monthly bonuses for, like, four months in a row and have been used as a good example of how to put in an advanced ticket so if I needed your motherfucking help I'd goddamn ask for it) etc. I tell him that no, it's spyware and I'm explaining it to her. He gets all snide and smart and cocky and asks why that takes 50 minutes. I point blank ask him if he wants to listen to the call and inform him of the fact that she will not be quiet for long and that I am trying to get her off the phone.

He leaves.

I only want to punch his face in for 1.5 seconds before I move on.

More time passes. I have now been doing the same song and dance routine for about an hour and twenty five minutes. I have repeated myself so many times. The customer still won't shut up. I have, at this point, muted my phone to wave my hands at it and plead with it to hang up that people around me are watching me and barely able to keep from laughing.

The first supe comes the fuck back. I promise him that I am still trying to get her off the call and that she still will not give up. I ask if I can hang up on her and am informed no. Hey. It was worth a fucking shot. I go back to the call.

We're now at an hour and forty minutes. I feel so bad about being on the phone this long in a queue of over 40 that I am twitchy as someone trying to kick crack.

The first supe is still hovering over me. Not offering suggestions. Not offering to take the call and get the customer off the phone, just listening. As though I'm some lying piece of shit holding onto the call to avoid the queue.

Enter supervisor two. I mute and inform this supe (mine, btw) that I am attempting to get the customer off the phone.

Supe one tells supe two that I've been through the closing six times.

I mute the phone and add, "Since he's been here" indicating supe one with my hand and then proceed to go back to the call.

Both supes stand there. Hovering. Not offering suggestions. Just fucking listening.

I am so goddamn twitchy that I want to rip my hair out.

The call is over. The supes watch me start another call and then leave. This call involves some troubleshooting of a firewall. It hits 20 minutes before I'm done. As I am taking another call, a floorwalker comes over. I mute my phone and see what he wants. He's telling me that he's checking on anyone with a call over ten minutes to see if they're okay. I tell him I'm fine and that the call involved a firewall fix and is over. He leaves.

I note the fact that I don't see this motherfucker talking to anyone else. I go back to my customer.

I, at this point, have been made to feel so fucking guilty that I do not take my last break. I simply work straight through it.

I have never in my entire working life been made to feel so much like a chastized fucking child as I do at this job. They obviously don't fucking trust me to do my job or respect me as a tech. They simply hovered over me to make me feel like a goddamn moron. Sons of bitches. Sons of motherfucking bitches.

I so want to drive down there tomorrow for the sole purpose of quitting. Motherfuckers.
dreamcatchings: (dare)
I don't want to go to work today. I want to drive to St. Louis and steal my best friend from her job and convince her to get on a plane with me to anywhere. Somewhere further away and perfect and beautiful and not this.

Sometimes I don't think the way I'm wired works for this world.

I don't believe in money, I believe in love. I don't believe in production, I believe in beauty. I don't believe in religion, I believe in the divine in all of us.

I don't believe that your job can't be something that makes you rise up singing every morning.

I don't know why we have to be something instead of just being.

I've apparently slipped into melodrama.

Hopefully, I'll climb my way out.
dreamcatchings: (that's why)
Really? I don't care.

Please just stop talking. All you do is talk. And talk. And talk. I don't care. I didn't care before, and I sure as hell don't care now.

I care less now than I did before.

I care more about the state of my inanimate keyboard than I do about whatever the fuck it is you're constantly blathering about.
dreamcatchings: (libra)
I'm obviously feeling better when I can write a semi-political rant.

cut for length and language and because I do not feel like forcing my opinions on anyone )
dreamcatchings: (bitch)
Contrary to popular belief, I do not know everything. I am also not capable of keeping all these balls in the air, especially when I'm not feeling well. Because right now I don't give a shit. And since nobody here seems to even care about the fact that I don't feel well, I don't particularly give a shit whether my lack of knowledge about something fucks you over or not.

I could honestly care less right now.

The fact that people keep asking me for shit that I didn't get the chance to do because I was out yesterday, going to the doctor though you wouldn't think anyone here actually believes me based on the way they're acting, is really just pissing me off even more.

I'm exhausted and my ear is throbbing.

Yeah, yeah. I'm an idiot for coming to work in the first place.
dreamcatchings: (mad)
So I come in for the night shift because I said I would and there's no one else to work it despite the fact that my ear is throbbing. I don't think people who've never had an ear infection understand how painful it is. It throbs and buzzes and hums. It keeps me up at night. It wakes me up in the middle of the night. It gives me headaches. It keeps me from hearing correctly. It disorients me so that my movements are even more clumsy than usual.

It hurts.

So I come in.

Everyone notices the hair and teases me about it.

Craig asks, "Will you be in tomorrow?" He has to ask twice because the first time I couldn't hear him.

I tell him I'm not sure about the whole day because of the ear thing. I tell him I was at the doctor's today. He asks if the doctor told me anything. I tell him he told me I have an ear infection. And that when I went to the ER the other night they did nothing.

My problem with this whole scenario is that I am the least likely person to fuck this company over. Dale? Is fucking us over. John? Fucked us over. Rodney? Fucked us over.

I was at the ER from 3:30am until 5:30am Saturday morning and came in to work at 8:30am that day despite having gotten maybe three hours of interrupted sleep. I came in tonight despite the fact that the right side of my head is throbbing.

I don't like the message here. That Dale can not only take off three weeks without telling us, but that he can also take two or three days off during the week when he's sick and not get asked a single fucking question. I take off six and a half hours, and I feel like I'm getting reamed about it.

And why is that? Because I dyed my fucking hair?

That shouldn't fucking matter. I was at the ER. I was at the doctor. I just paid over $60 for medication. This is the third full day I've put up with it, and nobody seems to think it's fucking important or, what, real? Like I'm fucking lying that I can't hear out of my right ear? That I'm fucking lying that it hurts, and I've been running a low grade fever since Saturday? Oh, yeah, I have so much fucking reason to lie about being in pain. I'm starting to wish I had taken that doctor's note. I was all, "No, that's cool" to the nurse because, well, fuck Dale never brings in a note at all.
dreamcatchings: (bombshell)
Comic book characters keep edging their way into my dreams.

Which should probably bother me or indicate some kinda mental problem. But I really sort of enjoy it. Because it's better than dreaming about dead people, which happens to me far too often. Although I did have a dream about my grandfather the other night. (And here's where I talk about that dream because I'm all about stream of conscious right now. It was, like, I think he was trying to explain things to me. Which he doesn't need to. Not really. Because I already know. I know, Grandpa, I do. I promise. I'm not mad. I was never mad. I don't get mad at people who die. But in the dream, it's all so foggy I can't remember details just the feeling, which was that he couldn't do it. Without my grandmother, he just couldn't make himself stay. Not that he didn't love us, not that he didn't want to. He just couldn't because the hole was just too big. Yes, I know. I know. You don't have to tell me. I love you, too. I miss you. Of course, I miss you. And every military funereal I ever see will remind me of yours and of you, and I will likely always cry at them. But I love you. I know you love me. It's okay. It's alright.)

So that kinda oddly went where I did not expect it to go. Anyway, my dream last night was that Paige "Husk" Guthrie had this weird motorcycle (name of which was Excalibur) that Warren "Arch/Angel" Worthington III had given her. Which, hello, stupid! You do not give Paige a motorcycle. You keep Paige as far away from a motorcycle as humanly possible. This is the last girl you want to have a motorcycle.

And now I prove my point.

Paige was all over the road. All over. Reckless endangerment with a motor vehicle personified. Of course, the fact that she was, like, escaping villains doesn't matter because, still. Paige does not equal good motorcycle driver. Ever.

So she gets back to the mansion with this completely thrashed motorcycle, and the cops are looking for her because of, well, like side swiping multiple cars at high speeds and the like. And X is all mad at her for very obvious reasons because cops and a school full of mutants do not mix well.

Anyway, um, I don't remember what happened after that, but I was very, very mad at Warren for giving her the bike in the first place because duh. Jono, of course, would never have given her a motorcycle because he knows better. Jono pwns Warren any day.

Well, except for the fact that he's all post-HoM now, but we don't talk about that.
dreamcatchings: (strong)
Sometimes I like to make lists to check things off.

Sometimes I like to make lists of things that suck so I don't have to rant about each one individually to the umpteen million people gracing my buddy list these days. This is one such list.


  • Canker sore. Although this one is less painful than some in the past. I usually get them when I'm a klutz and bang my toothbrush into my gums hard enough to break the skin or bite through some of the flesh in my mouth. Which explains why this one is below my tooth line. Thankfully it's in a space where things don't nag at it all day long, and I bought some of that oral anesthetic so that when it does get bad I don't just make you all hate me with a fiery passion as I whine about it.
  • Car. Why, oh why, is there always something going on with my car? Now it's the tires. I know at least one of them has a slow leak. Hell, all four of them might, but I'm not sure. Only I'm paranoid enough that when Dad and I take it to the tire place Friday I'm gonna ask them to check all four tires just in case. Because otherwise I'll be worrying about it every hour of every day. Sitting around going, "Are my tires slowly deflating even as I sit here typing up this post? OMG. What if they go flat? What if all the air places in town run out of air, and I have to drive home on the rims? What if I fill the tires too full and they explode?" I'm not exaggerating. This is how my mind works.
  • Ring. This is a minor annoyance, but it's gonna bug me all day. [livejournal.com profile] timberwolfblues got me a ring as my 20th birthday/2 year anniversary present. I wear it on the ring finger of my right hand because it is not an engagement ring. I have worn it religiously for almost four years now (as our 6 year anniversary is this November and how fucking weird is that? Let's just examine this a moment because sudden realizations sometimes blow my mind. I'll be 24 in October. I'll have been with the bf six years in November. This is 1/4 of my life, people. A whole fourth. Is that boogling anybody's mind but mine?) Anyway, yes, today I forgot to put on said ring, which is going to drive me nuts all day.
  • DC. Grr. Argh. Monthly comic subscription should mean monthly comic delivery. I paid you guys money for copies of LSH to be delivered to my house, and you guys suck at it. Last year we missed issue number three, which I eventually had to rebuy because you never sent it. This time around, even though I sent my subscription renewal in well before my old one ran out, you missed sending me number thirteen. I got fourteen. And that's the last one I've gotten. Send me my comics or refund my money, even though I'm too damn lazy to really get on your ass because I haven't been keeping notes and things like I should. But I have the cleared check statement and I know how many comics I've got versus how many I paid for.



And I think that's actually all I have right now. Okay, time to get some work done and try to post around answering phones and looking up prices and making topo maps. Isn't my life fun?
dreamcatchings: (git)
Points of contention:


  • People who do not know what they're doing should not install their own network cards
  • Trying to troubleshoot wireless when I have no way of discerning whether a client's radio is on or not is pointless and is likely giving me an ulcer
  • People who get ahead of my instructions and screw things up need to die
  • Sleeping badly and somehow lying on my hand in order to cause me great pain today is shitty
  • Having to take out trash with bad hand is worse
  • Esp. when we're running out of trash bags
  • I still have to cook when I get home

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dreamcatchings: (Default)
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