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So, it turned out being that time of the month.

And let me tell you, being an ex-painkiller addict during this time, and working, is NO FUN.
But really being an ex-painkiller addict is only ONE of the MANY reasons I don't take any pills anymore.

(For those wondering wtf, I was addicted to advil, aspirin, tylonol, and pretty much every other painkiller pill OTC med through my last two years of middle school. It probably screwed my brain up more than I'm willing to admit. The story of that addiction comes at another time. Maybe. If I get prodded about it.)

I went to bed at 11pm thursday night, and I was crunched up in my fun little ball with hot flashes, the sweats, and intense pain, all the while still feeling cold for some reason. I didn't get much sleep that night. When you'r eonly trying to sleep, Pain really kicks your a**. I mean, I was totally not in the mood to meditate because I was thinking, "I need to go to sleep because I have to go to work tomorrow".

The fact that meditating, although technically being still awake, I would feel rested, COMPLETELY ALLUDED me that night, and I have kicked myself since. Although admittingly, I've only meditated at night instead of sleeping once, and it felt weird, so I thought I shouldn't do it again.

REGARDLESS. I "wake up" at 6:30am friday, and try to get myself ready. Of course it doesn't help me that my mom is yelling my name out because I'm going to be late a bajillion times.

SHe always does that. ANd I always hated it.

YES, I'M GOING TO BE LATE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO YELL ABOUT IT EVERY MINUTE.
She also expects me to answer he when she yells out.

Apparently, I can only acknolege I'm late from the "KRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!"

Me: "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"

Her: "You're goingt o be LATE!"

And if she goes "KRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!"

ANd I don't do the "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"

She stomps upstairs to my room while I'm half naked and goes in my face,

"YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

So whenever I say "I woke up to my mom screaming at me" the above is what that sentence entails. Now you know.

[edit: yes, my name is Kris. Feel lucky you know. But if you tell anyone, or start calling me that online, I will kill you. I will block you. And you will cease to be my friend. I am serious. Do not call me Kris.]

I've complained ot her multiple times about me not having to answer back to figure out that the massive amount of screaming out my name means I'm going to be late.

SOMEHOW she grasped that concept in high school, but now whenever I bring it up it's "No you can't. You have to answer back."

You realise you're making me LATER, right?

All this screaming takes up TIME. Especially, if you know, I'm brushing my teeth while you expect me to scream what back at you. Which, 80% of the time, is the case.

And she STOMPS up and stares at me in my boxers.

I swear, sometimes I wonder if she's checking me out. >,>

The way my mom walks and talks is so annoying. But I guess that story can be told later, witht he whole addiction story. Not that either of them are interesting. Just annoying. It's the little things that matter, to me. Her voice, and the way she walks. I HATE IT, and those two things, combined with her mannerisms(especially the late thing) is why I want to move out ASAP. Not because I hate her as a person, or because I have the whole "rebel from parents" attitude. But because she annoys me.

I swear, I wonder every day how I manage to NOT get a migraine from her mere existance in my vacinity.

My dad, on the other hand, is much easier to live with. And I'd like him if it weren't for my engrained sense of hate toward him. Which I'm not quite sure why I have any more. Probably him being sexist and emotionally abusing me(when I was a kid). Yeah, that's probably it.

ANYWAY.

I go to work, and I'm late, but nobody seems to care.

For the next TWO HOURS, I'm in such immense pain. I have headaches, my 'stomach area' is having a masochistic showdown with itself, and I'm sneezing like I have the flu(The sneezing is new, I don't know why that came up.)

Whenever there wasn't a customer I'd bend over the belt and try to sleep. Anyone with half a brain could tell that yesterday was NOT MY DAY. I would've liked nothing better than to flop into bed, even though I wouldn't have been able to sleep.

About a half hour passes before I realise I should probably stop moping about and do something about it(the pain). I told you before about how I'm good with containing pain. Well, I am. And I believe everyone is if they put there mind to it.

But most of us are attention whores, and we show our pain because we think not only will it hurt less if we cry about it, but we'll get attention from other people and they'll make us feel less lonely. Girls are especially like that. Guys not so much. But girls are brought up to cry about s**t, so I don't blame them. Too much.

So once I make the mental effort, I'm doing pretty well with the pain, until I run out of s**t to stock. (I stock tobacco when there are no customers, since it's at my register in the morning).
Like anyone else, I ignore pain by taking my mind off it. Again, meditation completely escapes me(probably because when I meditate I don't want to have someone walking up and scaring the s**t out of me because I wasn't paying attention). So when I ran out of s**t to stock, bam comes the pain again.

But luckily once I hit the two hour mark, it went away.

Which is much better than what happened on THURSDAY, where the blood, instead of coming out my a**, decided to come out MY NOSE. It was like. "Okay Fate. This is a reverse period. I think you meant this to come from the OTHER hole."

I was so dizzy I wondered if there was something wrong with my brain. Not that the bleeding constantly from my nose didn't help that ideal.

Last night was a much better and quieter night. I went to bed at about 10 - 10:30. Actually got sleep.

When I woke up, my mom was screaming at me. I screamed at her to not wake me up at 6:30. I should be waking up at 6am, since I can't get ready fast enough at 6:30.

She said I'd wake up at 6 if I set my alarm(instead of her waking me up at 6:30).

ANd I said I did set my alarm to six until she started waking me up.

And she said she wouldn't wake up if I kept setting my alarm.

In case you hadn't noticed, MAYBE I prefer to have someone open my door and rouse me from my sleep from my ultra-sesitive personal bubble being poked at compared to being scared shitless by a LOUDASS ALARM-CLOCK THAT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A BEEPING ALARM, SO INSTEAD PLAYS SOME RANDOM RADIO STATION. Which of course makes the "alarm" random every time depending on if the radio station is coming in that day and it's not just static, what song they're playing, if it's a commercial break, of if they happen to be talking at that time.

It's BECAUSE it's random that
a.) it actually works(you don't get used to it, so you wake up)
and b.) The alarm actually causes the definition of "alarm".

Hey, if someone woke you up by screaming TWINKIES ON SALE FOR FORTY CENTS, you'd be pissing your pants, too.

That alarm is the sole reason I actually made it through middleschool and high school. It is also the only excuse for me forgetting what I was dreaming about in an instant.

Got to work ten minutes late this morning. Walk in the door right when the manager's coming back from calling my house complaining about me being late. I suspect the only reason she cared was because a customer decided to stock up for y2k at 6am and go to the cash register I was supposed to be manning at exactly 7oclock.

But then again, only working for 2 weeks and being ten minutes late isn't something to be proud of, either.

But I lay all the blame on my mom for waking me up at 6:30, and then keeping my shirts for 10 minutes while she felt the need to obsessively iron them, all the while yelling at me because I was going to be late, and then stomping up to my room when I didn't answer because I was brushing my teeth. Yes. I blame her. You're at fault, here. Not me. I'm completely innocent. >_>
<_<

For the next two hours at work I had major hotflashes. I was sweating like a horse, and I was stocking cigerettes, which was no fun job since that made me think of LIGHTING UP, and thus FIRE, and thus MORE HEAT.

I was in so much.. Uh. Heat... That it was RADIATING off me(don't believe me, ask the monks who can do it at will).

That is more torturous to deal with than pain, those hot flashes. They'll kill you.
Although wearing a long sleeve shirt under my uniform wasn't helping that great, either.

Tomorrow and Tuesday I'm off, and on thursday I work 7am to 11am, which is the stupidest hours ever.

I was going to talk about how one of my coworkers looks exactly like Curly Sam from Wonchop's animations(Curly Sam also happens to be Wonchop's brother XD)
But it'll have to wait.

Because I had too much fun dedicating this journal entry to pain, how I hate it, and why women such.

To add insult to injury, Gelmax also sucks.

I haven't held my daily dosage of flaming Gelmax recently.

Everyone flame Gelmax for me so I can get a load off my chest. XD