I went to the doctor today.
I went to the doctor today.
The dollhouse is (almost) completely disassembled.
This is basically the whole thing. I was lucky that my parents used hot glue, so it was really easy to pull it apart (compared to what I assume other glues would be like). It took trial and error (and tips from the Greenleaf forum) to get it to come apart, though.
So, a hair drier will melt the hot glue. So I used a hair drier. But there are a lot of ways to use it.
Inefficient way: Heat it up, then scrape the glue away until the parts are no longer attached.
Better way: Heat the glue. Apply light pressure to the pieces that need to stop being attached. They will come apart once the glue is melted.
Cons of the better way: I only have 2 hands. I used my feet to apply pressure. Also, anything that gets in the blow drier stream gets heated, like your hands. Or feet.
I think I need to replace the windows, though.
I mean, besides the fact that I ripped a couple of them, they’re yellowish and warped. Removing them will certainly make spray painting everything easier….
I had to remove these three. They weren’t mounted correctly in the first place. I’ll figure out the others.
Oh, I also learned from the forums that white vinegar helps remove the smell of bleach and mildew from hands. Probably should just wear gloves? Oh well.
I just need to figure out how and when to spray paint the pieces. The paint says “Hey, use me between 30F and 90F, and let me tell you, it’s not commonly above 30 here in Jan/Feb. I can’t do it inside, because I can’t put a breathing mask on the cat. Well, I can. but it won’t fit.
There are a few things that are facts… to me.
There is one person out there who has solved my problem. And that person is mr_props on Shapeways. I think his work was designed with stop motion in mind, and not 1/12 scale dollhouses. Especially since, from what I can tell, 1/24 is in (smaller, more room) and 1/12 is out. On the other hand, with this doll, 1/12 is the perfect middle point to join dollhouses and ball-joined dolls into one big weird hobby that small children will love when they visit me.
Now, the thing about these dolls, when compared to other dolls, is that you need to build it. This may or may not be a problem, depending on who you are. Now, here were my main worries when I bought the 1/12 scale Alter Ego (with white strong and flexible plastic).
And yet, somehow….
Resources are a bit difficult, so here’s another list.
There was a lot I didn’t add into the video, because editing is exhausting. So here’s yet another list, this time of tips and thoughts!
My parents… well, my dad… have an old Greenleaf Arthur dollhouse.
This picture was taken today, but this house has existed my whole life, as far as I know. Never displayed in my house (my parents’ house?) growing up. Maybe at my dad’s sister’s house? I’m not sure yet.
But it’s the same house still being sold. I think it’s even the exact pre-built one they still offer, based on the colors.
There’s something about this that’s really cool to me. Sure, this makes it easy: they still make the literal pieces for my dollhouse. But it’s not really that. I don’t see a lot of stuff that they still make, that was made in the 70s or 80s. I think? I wish I knew.
How am I going to make it my own, knowing it’s sentimental to my dad?
I’ve dated six guys in the past decade. Out of these, one made the first move, two were mutual enough to be unclear who made the first move, and the other three, I made the first move.
On the other hand, since I was a girl who played video games and had a male-dominated major, a lot of guys “tried,” if you can call pretending to want to hang out and then ignoring me when one of us found someone else while never saying anything about liking me. Which I don’t. I also have had one guy just outright offer sex repeatedly, despite his girlfriend, and I don’t count that either.
I went to a party at my friends’ place. One of them (the husband) got a new job, so he invited friends over to celebrate. The husband had a friend I didn’t know who was there. I heard from both him and the wife that their friend was asking about me and called me cute. Meanwhile, I can’t remember anyone I’ve only met once. The couple threw a Halloween party too, and the husband told me to bring my Magic cards, since this guy also played. Then he and I made plans to hang out. It went well. But…
It makes me nervous. I’ve realized that I’m just not comfortable being pursued.
First, the minor reasons: it reminds me of the people from college who never SAID anything and made me feel like I wasn’t worth being friends with, it reminds me of people who talk about the friendzone, it reminds me of the creepy shit a lot of men send women, it reminds me of Pickup Artists and Nice Guys and rapists. I don’t want to lose my control. All of my relationships have been good enough; I’ve been in control. I haven’t been raped or creeped on. I don’t do the “normal” dating with strangers and going out. I date friends; people I know and trust already.
I’m so scared of not being in control. I’m scared of not knowing a person and how they’ll react if I’m not interested.
This guy is a good friend of a good friend, and to a point, I trust his judgement. (The guy is better friends with the husband than the wife.) Still, it fills me with anxiety; the husband doesn’t know the romantic personality of his friend. When someone is denied what they think they deserve, they can lose their fucking mind. On one hand, I think I’m paranoid, but on the other, how can you see this coming?
In conclusion, there is no conclusion. I don’t have an answer or a moral; just a rambling about why I’m feeling really unsure about where I’ve found myself.
I offered a piece of paper with my symptoms (chest pain and heaviness being the biggest and scariest) to my brand new doctor. He read over it and then asked me some questions. I started crying. I didn’t want to die; what if it was my heart or my lungs or
He told me it was probably anxiety.
I’ve never really moved before. My parents bought the house I grew up in… well, I was told I was conceived the day they bought it. Gross. I “moved” to college and back for 3 years, and then from dorm to dorm to dorm the fourth. Then “moved” to my aunt’s house for a year. When it comes down to it though, those aren’t the same. I give someone money and then I have a place to sleep, electricity, a shower, Internet and in most cases food all provided for me. Most of everything was also cleaned for me.
Then a stray cat showed up at my aunt’s house. I had to take him in; the way he kept trying to come indoors and the way he loved it when I held him told me he used to be an indoor cat. So I found an apartment. We’ve been living there two weeks now, just me and the cat.
The first hassle is simply changing my address. I’m pretty sure there is no way to do this right. The amount of people you need to tell is immense as fuck. I’ve told the bank… and a few others. On the bright side, everything else is being sent to my parents’ house, and I’ve changed as many things as I could to online billing with online statements. The post office guy lectured me about telling the local post office that you live there, and he and my neighbors have reminded me to add my apartment number to my shit. Which I swear I have done my best with, but nobody’s best is ever good enough in this world.
The second hassle isn’t much… yet. Electricity was easy to set up… but no bill from them yet. Cable/Internet was a small hassle, although half of that was my fault for not remembering to charge and bring my cell phone from my aunt’s house. The second guy who came to set it up knocked on my actual apartment door instead of standing outside and calling me, so I can’t hold myself 100% accountable. Maybe that’s just the power of my rage. I had to take a surprise Monday morning off for them, and then my cable modem didn’t work so they used one of theirs. When I called the people who made the modem, they said it was my cable company. Maybe you can see why I haven’t dealt with it.
The biggest one is my car and licence. This is a different state than the one I used to live in, and it feels a bit like pulling a block from the bottom of a pile and everything falling out on top of me. If I need a licence in this state, I should also have my car registered in this state. If my car is registered in this state, it’s not technically owned by my dad anymore. That means he has to officially sell/give it to me. That means I need to insure it myself. That means it needs to be inspected. Oh, by the way, did I tell you my dad’s birthday is in July? That means that if I didn’t get everything moved to my new state by the end of the month, it needed to be re-inspected and registered in the other state. Oh, and there is no permanent DMV in my area.
Figuring out the order to do it all in was not easy. I felt overwhelmed reading the DMV pages for both states, trying to find out what I needed and if I needed to get it insured and inspected first (which seems silly now) and all the other minuscule details. With the help of my coworkers, family and friends, I did manage to get it figured out. Registration and licence, inspection, insurance. Insurance is last because the car is covered on the old insurance right now. In fact, I managed to get everything done yesterday. More surprise time off work, though. Ugh.
This doesn’t even mention that last Wednesday, my muffler fucked itself. It can’t be passed without a good muffler. Oh and it was just barely due for an oil change. My dad had to take it over the weekend to fix it, but that worked well because he needed to sign the gift tax exemption form (and, as I thought then, also the bill of sale. Which you don’t actually need if it was a gift, I guess.) and probably something else.
Really, it’s amazing anything worked out.
Once I get my new insurance, I should be golden. Well, except the bills. And probably something else I forgot.