This is all it’s gonna be from here on out, people. Just video montages. Because I have a new passion.

Here’s Halloween at RealNetworks on Friday.

I have a love/hate relationship with Los Angeles. The city is a drug. You take a hit, and there’s a rush, and a feeling of pure joy and belonging and a raw, bright energy pulsing through your body. And just as quickly as you went up, you come down. Crashing down. It hurts physically, it hurts emotionally, it fucks with your head. You’re nauseous now. You need another hit. And you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get one. Los Angeles is sick. It’s a culture of competitiveness and selfishness and cut-throatery that Wall Street can’t even touch. Everyone is so much more beautiful than everyone else, and beauty is a currency with strength I’ve never seen in any other city. When I’m in Los Angeles, I can’t believe I really have to leave, and I can’t wait until I can finally leave. We have a really unhealthy relationship. Los Angeles is the douchebag I can’t stop sleeping with.

That said, I had a blast at the conference. Having Chelsia there made it a million times more fun, and it was even better because my friend Ranae met up with us the first night and partied with us. We met so many cool and interesting people, a lot of whom actually live in Seattle. I can’t wait to get to know them better since they’re so close! I gained a whole new perspective on the way people use Twitter and social media, and I have all sorts of new ideas for how to leverage the technology. I’m very, very, very glad I went. Oh and I also did a little interview with the PR firm sponsoring the event, and they used a snippet of it here. I’m at around the 1:50 mark. Ohhhhhhh and I won one of those new Kodak HD cameras. Won it! For free! And now I’m obsessed with it. I took sooooo many videos, since I won it on the very first day. The one above is my second-favorite. My favorite is not appropriate for publishing on the Internet. ;)

So, without further ado, the photos:

Ha. Trust me, even I’m annoyed at the number of Internet entities dedicated to me. But I decided that, for networking and job-pursuing purposes, I needed to have a website I could put on a business card that people could go to and there would be no celebrity vagina, no discussion of psychiatric meds, and no vehement pro-choice, pro-gay, pro-Meghan McCain clamoring. My company, EB Media, used to have a website, but I think a long time ago I accidentally canceled the hosting service for that without saving any of the content because I cared about that website so much. Now when you Google “EB Media” you get the website of some chick who does PR in Nashville — also called EB Media. Her name is actually “Ebie,” which makes the business name adorable. She’s almost exactly my age and looks vaguely similar to me, which is weird. And also really confusing and probably bad for both our businesses. I incorporated before her, but still, I should be appearing somewhere in search results. So ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, SashaPasulka.com, new home of EB Media, LLC.  I know, I know. It’s not much. But it’s not vagina, either.

I went to lunch and shopping today with my girlfriends Heather and Chelsia. What were we shopping for, you ask? Oh, only our SUPER AWESOME Halloween costumes. What are we going to be? That’s secret. But trust me when I say it is going to be AMAZING.

And I leave eeeeeearly tomorrow morning for the City of Angels to attend the Twitter conference. After all the dramz, Chelsia is, in fact, coming. (Side note: Chelsia is friends with Eminem. She told me this today and showed me texts from him. I never get jealous of shit like that, BUT I AM JEALOUS OF THIS. I want SO BADLY to be friends with Eminem. “We can drunk dial him when we’re in LA,” she offered sweetly, as she saw the envy flicker in my eyes. YES PLEASE.) Not only is she coming, but she has a place in LA, so I’m gonna skip the giant payment for the hotel and just crash with her. (I would have stayed with LA friends in the first place, but they all live in the South Bay, and the conference is at the Kodak Theater. So in terms of driving-to-the-event reasonableness, my friends may as well live in Mexico.) This worked out perfectly, because my friend Lacy was going to be staying at the hotel with me, but now she’s only staying for one night because her dog got seriously injured. He’s going to be fine, thank goodness, but understandably she doesn’t want to be away from him that long. She’s just coming into LA to do her job and then getting out. So I’m really really glad Chelsia’s coming, because otherwise I’d get lonely once Lacy left. ANYWAY. I totally overpacked. Did you know I own like five little blue cotton sundresses? FIVE. I think I packed four of them. WHAT IS IT WITH ME AND BLUE SUNDRESSES? But you just never know in LA where you’ll be going or what you’ll need to wear. I packed a lot of shit. I’m so excited. The only thing I don’t like is that I have to leave Leo in boarding. I’m going to miss him so much. I’ll snuggle with him extra tight tonight!

I woke up at 6 am today and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I have no idea why. That never happens to me. I can always fall back asleep. So the number of things I did today is astonishing — I can’t even remember that far back. I think this is why I blog — because after 10 hours or so, I just forget what I did. I called my mom, all excited because I had time to talk. “I have nothing else to do!” I told her, delighted. I wanted to discuss childhood resentments. She explained that she didn’t have time — she has things she does in the morning. I got fussy. So she talked to me for awhile about my resentments, because that’s what I wanted to do at that moment. And she still can’t figure out why I act like the world revolves around me.

I talked to my credit card company for like two hours, too, but I’m not entirely sure about what. They’re launching an investigation, though. I got an email confirmation about it.

Most of the rest of the day was a blur. I went into the office, and managed to fuck up everything for my friend Chelsia, who was going to come to the Twitter conference with me and had her boss talked into paying for all of it, and then without thinking I opened my stupid mouth and was like “My boss won’t pay for my plane ticket!” and — whoops! — my boss is Chelsia’s boss’s boss. So then her boss was all like “Oh, shoot, I have to ask him then … ” and I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. I am normally not someone who just wanders around thoughtlessly fucking up opportunities for other people — this is what happens when I don’t get my 10 hours of sleep — and I apologized to her a million times, but I still feel awful. Soooo if my boss is reading this (and I know you will be!!) PLEASE pay for Chelsia to come to LA!!!

Annnnnyway, then other stuff happened, and then Trisha and her husband (!!!!) Jesse came to pick me up and we went to a pumpkin-carving party at our friend Natascha’s house. ZOMG. I haven’t carved a pumpkin in so long. It was AMAZING. So much fun. Best time EVER. Trish brought a stencil for her pumpkin and she was being all super-secretive about what it was for. I was trying to decide what to do for my pumpkin, and I was all like, “Maybe I’ll do Kate Gosselin. I bet they have a stencil for that. Oooh, I bet they have Octomom, too. You know what? I bet by now they already have a freakin’ stencil for Balloon Boy!” Trish just glared at me and was like “Shhh!”

In my sleepless haze, I thought I had said something offensive. I was racking my brain trying to figure out who I’d offended by making a Balloon Boy joke — who at the party had accidentally lost their 6-year-old in a hot-air balloon? — and then I realized why she was so upset. This is her finished pumpkin:

And this is her finished pumpkin sitting next to my finished pumpkin:

Do you see why I need constant adult supervision? Trisha’s pumpkin looks like it was carved by a responsible adult woman. My pumpkin looks like it was carved by a drunken toddler.

Oh, and this was my inspiration for the pumpkin, which I named “Mr. Buck-Toothed Hick”:

This is the rest of the girls’ pumpkins:

And this is what it looked like when we added in the guys’:

I’m like a proud parent! I love them all so much! (But I love mine the most!)

Oh God and then also I think iJustine and I might have a fist fight next week. This shit was not good. I was trying to be funny — I didn’t think she could possibly read all her Twitter responses — but obviously it was brought to her attention and hurt her feelings. I feel bad about that. I feel the way I feel about her, but I’m not about hurting feelings, especially not of other bloggers. I know what it’s like to put yourself out there on the Internet — I get how hard that is and how much guts it takes, how it takes guts every single fucking day. I should try to find her next week and apologize. She will probably hit me, and I’ll deserve it. (I do actually own that URL, though. Long story.)

Meds are fixed. Doctor has been issued an firmly worded email, to which he responded by putting me back on my original meds, lower dose, and writing me a prescription for Sonata, which is exactly what I wanted in the first place. Before all this madness began. He also suggested, in his response, a sleep-research book he thought might help me “alot.” Now, look, it’s one thing when you guys write “alot” in the comments. It’s one thing when some guy I’ve gone on two dates with writes “alot” in a email (That’s a dealbreaker, ladies). But it’s another thing entirely when the doctor of psychiatric medicine responsible for issuing the chemicals that will substantively change the way my brain operates writes “alot” in his email. Not that I expect everyone to win spelling bees all their lives, but how many reminders do you get, from grade one onward, that “a lot” is always, always two words? A failure to have picked up on this tidbit after what essentially amounts to about 30 years of school indicates serious functional problems with details and memory and giving a shit. From this point on, I am just going to be my own psychiatrist and ask him politely to write the prescriptions.

That said, I had a delightful day! It was my second class of ballet, and I wore my black leotard with my pink skirt and no leggings, and I looked adorable. I’m trying to learn all the French terms, and I just feel so important doing all the little foot movements. Everyone in ballet is very serious and intense. I just feel like I’m in the most serious athletic environment ever … and then I go to dodgeball. People in Seattle take dodgeball VERY VERY SERIOUSLY. Like they have been training for dodgeball their entire lives. And I think some of them have, although I’m not sure how. I am TERRIBLE at dodgeball. I’m like the worst person who’s ever been in the league ever. I practically walk up to the the middle line and say “Hello opponents! Howdy! How’s the day going for you? Okay then. I’m going to give this ball here a nice light toss, and if one of you wants to grab it before it hits the ground, or — worse yet — you, just go ahead and do that, mmmkay?” It’s truly embarrassing. I need to practice dodgeball. I have no idea how one practices dodgeball.

OK. Last thing. As previously stated, I’m going to LA for the #140conf because I am a DORK but I am a VERY EXCITED DORK. Really I can’t wait. But I just realized something! I need business cards! I need to be able to network and maybe even look for a real-world job among people who like to do creative and geeky things like me. I need them by … uh … early Monday morning. Anyone know anywhere in Seattle that can do that?

Wellll, I didn’t fall asleep until 4 am last night. But then I slept until noon. Then went into the office. Then fell asleep at my desk. Then somehow drove home and slept some more. Then saw Wiggles. Then played volleyball. Now back home.

I’m done with the new meds. Hate ‘em. Over ‘em. Back on the old ones. I don’t care if I don’t sleep. I talked to my friend Emily, who is like my shining bastion of hope with this shit, because she’s been through all the same shit I’ve been through and is now completely med-free. She told me she didn’t sleep well for like a month when she was getting off the anti-psychotics. “Give yourself some time to be sick,” she said. That made a lot of sense to me. Not as, like, a victim mentality, but just in the sense that I can’t be too hard on myself. Like, I just have to be okay with the fact that my body is going to freak out a little bit about this. It doesn’t all have to be perfect RIGHT NOW.

Wiggles was very angry when I told him about what the psychiatrist had done. “When all you have is a hammer,” he said, “everything looks like a nail.” Meaning that the only thing a psychiatrist knows how to do is write more prescriptions. NOT WHAT I WANT OR NEED. Wiggles doesn’t especially think I should be on any meds.

ANYWAY. I’m super excited, because I’m going to LA for the Twitter conference next week!!! RealNetworks is hosting the VIP party, so they have some free passes to the conference, and they were kind enough to give me one. I’m paying my own airfare and hotel, but I’ve been able to work out some pretty decent deals. It’ll still be more money than I really want to spend right now, but it’ll be nice to be back in LA, to catch up with old friends, and to do some networking at the conference. I’m also really looking forward to going to @ijustine’s panel and booing. SO JEALOUS. (Molls will totally come with me though.)

I’m kind of back in the mentality where I feel like I need a “real” job, but then I spend an hour looking into it and realize that a) I would hate a real job and b) No one would ever hire me for anything because I have no experience doing anything but running blogs. And then I panic because no one would ever hire me to do a real job because I have no experience doing anything but running blogs and I feel like I need to remedy that by getting a real job. But then, I realize that no one would ever hire me to do a real job because I have no experience doing anything but running blogs. So then I feel like I have to remedy that by getting a real job. Do you see how this doesn’t work?

I spent a few minutes on the Boston Consulting Group website, thinking, ya know, maybe management consulting would be fun and challenging. They have this sample case study you can do to “prep” for their interviews. I seriously got five minutes into that thing and I was insane with boredom. I can’t possibly spend 16 hours a day analyzing somebody else’s boring business. I can barely handle minimal analysis of my own boring business. I mean, if I wanted to do tedious, emotionally unrewarding, hyper-competitive work like that, I would have just gotten an MBA. Oh, wait.

Seriously, though, I have absolutely no idea what I would do if I didn’t run my own little media company. I can’t think of anything else in the world that I could handle doing and that anyone would ever agree to hire me to do. And that is terrifying. I need to just let go of it — to realize that, right now, everything is FINE. I do run my own little media company, and I make a living at it, and I don’t need to do anything else right now. I just get panicked at the thought that I don’t have other options. And I do have other options. I just hate them all. UGH.