Feeling the Pull

Have you ever felt something so strongly that it all but grates every nerve ending? Have you ever wanted it to be true more than anything you have ever known only to have reality and doubt swoop in from unseen heights and perch on your idealism like a raptor eyeing its prey. You know it is only a matter of time before you are caught but in a way, that only seems to heighten the feeling. After all, what happens when you are found out? Yeah, I don't know either; I suppose it is a mixture of feelings really. Could it be that the thing you felt so strongly about comes to fruition and you are content in your blissful euphoria? Sure. Could it be that your most vulnerable of identities gets gutted from your body, pissed on, then shoved back in... then revealing that shame would no doubt increase your capacity for a breakdown 15 fold? Yeah, I thought so.

Could you perhaps be a little more specific? I mean, I want to know which line to get in here. There are things that everyone is faced with at one time or another in their life that really tests their constitution. I'm beginning to think that I have been miserably failing these little tests along the way because here I sit once again... on a dark stage, lights shining brightly toward me with nothing more than chewing gum, velvet Mary-Janes and a sandwich bag with which to protect, amuse, or clothe myself throught the interrogation. Does anyone have the instruction manual to this life? I think my dog ate mine a long time ago and I am no where near as clever as MacGyver.

Truly, it is not so bleak as I have made it sound. I simply begin to feel so... exposed. The shoes are on my feet, the gum is wedged in my clenched jaws, which leaves one small sandwich bag to do many jobs and cover a whole lot of territory. Is there a way to trust in what you feel enough so that you can toss away that little bag of tricks? Maybe a risk is just a risk and that's all there is to it. Maybe setting yourself up for the possibility of a painful response shows a faith in yourself equal to that which you are willing to wager on. No matter what, I'm keeping the Mary-Janes...

I've got no idea but it gives me something to think about; how much of a disservice are you doing to yourself by trying to protect yourself from everything that is important to you? Sometimes I just dont know where these thoughts come from - so I'm going to end this post here.

Exit stage right: Snaps gum, saunters in velvet shoes... baggie unwaveringly clinging to naked, swaying posterior...
~

So I can feel it a little now...

Yuck, mixed episodes suck. But I'm holding my own today, so I guess that's better than my last frenzied post. 'Holding my own'... what in the hell kind of saying is that? Kind of bordering on perverse, eh?

Tomorrow I get to go visit my doctor who has... and I'm not kidding you... a BeeGee's shrine in his office. Um, yeah... How distracting is that? I'm trying to update him on everything and my gaze keeps drifting back to the brothers Gibb. Should I really be telling him any of this or is he secretly reenacting disco moves in his head? If I see white polyester anywhere I am sooo considering a new doctor. But he's fun and I like that.

My new boss has decided that purchasing plastic bins in volume for organization is the way to spend our budget and save the department. Yeah, ok. He hasn't been there long enough to even know what we have to organize. I haven't formed an opinion of him yet which is odd because it doesn't usually take me too long. I think I was so determined to not take on anyone else's opinion that I completely desensitized myself. All I know is that if I get laid off because all of our money went to colorful handy-dandy little bins, I'll be forming my opinion of him with one foot up his ass.

Alert... technology has arrived in my home... alert! I just bought a DVD player... yay! Now I can buy all those Johnny Depp movies and go frame by frame. Who knew Edward Scissorhands could be an 8 hour film? The fascination is still here. I think I managed to sear him into my brain during that last episode. All neural pathways lead directly to Johnny Depp. So odd, yet it makes me a happy, happy girl!

Dug out my Smithereens CD and have had my ears on that for a while. What a spectacular voice that Pat has. I remember going to a show of theirs and being so impressed with the clarity of his voice when they did the acoustic stuff. Wonder if they are still doing anything. Hey, there's a new obsession for me...

I may write more on this later in the week, but I have to comment on something. I accepted an offer to do two talks at the school where I went to get my CPhT license. They have made a comment or two about me teaching there in the future, so this should be pretty cool. I have no problem with public speaking; I'm too much of a goof to really care. I don't think I will prepare anything either. If I prepare something, I'll get too flustered because I'll be sure I'm forgetting something... if I don't prepare notes, then I can make it up as I go along and just use the student feedback. I'm much better at bullshitting my way through things and winging it, so that should work out great! Woohoo! Be afraid...Livewire holds the minds of America's youth in her hands... MuHuHuHaHaHaHa!!!!

I can't feel my chest

I may be losing it. Yes, the possibility looms like stretched shadows in the night dancing this way and that, fueled by the flicker of a candle flame. Even if I don't want to face it, the edges of those flames infiltrate each crevice so there is no avoiding it.

I don't think I can feel my chest. I can feel the tightness and the restriction of breath, but that is all. It's almost as if I am inadvertantly curling in upon myself like a parched leaf.

The thoughts are not coming right either. They come, but they can't quite make it out of my mouth, leaving me sounding more disjointed than I'd like and possibly like I have been shorted a chromosome.

Doubts are flooding. Decisions are questioned. Everything is wrong. I'm getting edgy. This is usually the part where I start pushing people away (or downright pissing them off) because I don't know what to hold on to - what is real and what is exaggerated in my mind. I never intend to treat anyone that way, but considering what they could experience if they stick around, it is the kinder option. Who ever figured that being nasty to someone could actually be a way to protect them from more harm by walking straight into the lair of the beast?

This began last night. I hope it is not the beginning of another manic episode. These are wearing me out. Last time the episode was harmlessly saturated with Johnny Depp... this time it feels more like it has the potential to be punctuated with seething glares, scathing comments and a few kicks to the groin. Or the head. I'm not particular.

Maybe you can all get together and send me calming thoughts to help me get out of this in one piece. If not, I'll know... and kicks to the head may ensue.

The Beast

If the shows on TV weren't bad enough...

So it is a holiday. Happy Bunny Day. I like bunnies so very much. Ok, that's it for holiday-speak - hope you all enjoyed your holiday if this is one you celebrate.

There is something that has been bothering me for quite some time and today it jumped out at me and kicked me right in the shin. Nasty, inconsiderate bastard. Why can't it just leave me alone in a cloud of denial? Anyway... I am more annoyed today than I was on February 14th. I cannot watch television for more than 24 minutes without being faced with a commercial for an online dating service. I'm really trying not to scream. Why must they assault me in my own home. I'm not even on the internet... that would be a good place to advertise it; I block all of that out. But they feel the need to infiltrate every corner of my world to tell me how much I apparently suck. And according to them, I suck SO bad that I don't know how to pick a mate. Ok, so they have a point there. They have magical and all inclusive 'checklists' of compatibility; what am I, a car to be inspected? I don't want a freakin checklist! Besides, people lie. It is inherent in humans and don't argue with me because I'll just say, "see, _____ is lying right there." Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to make everyone out to be evil, I'm just saying that given the chance, the vast majority of people will opt for a lie as opposed to facing an awkward situation or giving a truthful answer. Now, if I complete said questionaire and Mr. Available Bachelor does the same, what are the chances that this will end with 'happily ever after'? The commercials tell you how wonderful their service is and shows supposedly actual (compensated, I'm sure) couples as their success stories. Um, hi. I'm not new on this planet. They are called actors...look it up. Individuals that have been compensated to ACT in love. And they want you to be so envious that you hurry and join the same service that made them the happy couple they are today. I'm not saying that dating services are awful as I have never used one. Here's the problem I have with it... if I question my own judgement of an individual or my ability to find one, how in the hell am I supposed to trust theirs? Do I get a refund if the person turns out to be a braying jackass? Will they fund the multiple therapy sessions that will surely ensue? ARGH!!! Ok. I'm composing myself. Being single isn't typically a touchy subject for me. I like being as silly or strange as I feel like being without having to compromise that, but I don't know. I think that maybe I am wondering if it is fact or fiction that there are suitable mates out there that would not ask for compromise. Damn commercial making me think. I hate this. I so rarely get caught up in this as I'm trying to live my life in an enjoyable manner whether I am paired with another or going it alone. Maybe it's Spring... maybe I feel compelled to find a mate...lol. Hmmm.... I'm going to have to come up with a mental checklist of my own. Can't I just click my heels three times? Oh wait, that's a different story...

Also, a couple of updates on the sidebar...

All in a Days Work

I did not want to be at work today. Nor have I wanted to be there for the other days I worked this week. Most people never really want to be at work, but they have financial obligations, so there they are. Most of the minutes of my past few days at work have consisted of, well, counting down the minutes until I could leave. Rarely am I this disinterested because I enjoy what I do. I learned something interesting, though.
I was assigned to working in the IV Room tonight and it really is my favorite place to work. Here, I am responsible for making IV admixtures, antibiotics, TPNs/PPNs and large volume electrolyte IV bags. These items, especially the TPNs/PPNs are truly things that sustain life. I may know that I have a set number of TPNs/PPNs to make for the evening and go about making them to the best of my ability. But let me tell you something, when you go on rounds through the hospital and perchance cross paths with one of the intended recipients, it changes the entire ball game. You now have a face, not just a name... everything changes. It is all new again. For me anyway. All of a sudden, I become protective of this patient as far as their pharmaceutical care goes. I feel as if it were a personal crusade to speak on behalf of the patient and do everything possible to make them well. I know it sounds corny, but then I'm corny - there are worse things, you know. And it tends to carry over to other patients as well. Look, I'm not here to paint a pretty picture so everyone is happy. The medical field is like any other. People hate their jobs, they are overworked and underpaid, and they work with insufficient funding. Yes, even when saving lives, that takes it's toll on you. The medical profession gets a bad rap, hell, often from me; but we are not above the foibles and failures of anyone else. However, this is one of the professions that does not afford the luxury of sitting back and whining about it. So if I draw my inspiration from the 85 year old lady who has been hospitalized for weeks and has no visitors to speak of, then so be it. If seeing her propped up in her bed, pillows shielding her from the collapsible bars at her sides day after day begins to wear at me, then so be it. I would like to think that the magazines, puzzles, books and games I bring in to the hospital may distract her for even a few minutes and provide her with some respite from the affliction that has decided to call her it's host. I also like to think that a quick smile and hello as I walk past the room if our eyes meet may bring her a smile, however small. Just to be seen as a person...not a patient. I may be deluded but I suppose that is my choice. There are days when I barely make it to the elevator before the tears threaten to betray my facade of strength. On one hand, I am way too sensitive for this job; on the other hand, I am just what this job needs.
There is one thing above all else that I will tell you, and I get alot of shit over this. Yes, I can be overly sensitive, and I know that - but turn the tables. If I were the lady waiting in that bed for a bed pan, medicine, food, a visitor, or even death, I would want someone to see me. Just me. Wouldn't you?

Lagomorph Lilt

I've just exhausted myself with a harrowing journey home in freezing rain so I am not feeling particularly chatty. I will however, leave you with this little link (sound on).

It is just fun and silly.

B to the U to the N...yo!

Who will spearhead this invasion?...

After I settled in bed last night, I had a vision of something flash into my head. Not a vision vision, just a snippet of something. It has been invading my thoughts since it's inception last night. The only way I can think of to release it, is to write it down. Although slightly disquieting, I like it...

He's there in front of me, in the dark - head bowed, looking up at me through chunks of hair damp with sweat. Unpatterned pulsing lights and a rain slicked street make it difficult to see although I know we are the only two here. The roughly hewn stone wall he leans upon seems to breathe with a life of its own making the distinction between the two more difficult than one would think. I am drawn closer. No fear, no judgement, no question. I can see the blood on his mouth, slick and wet, and suddenly realize that I have lost the ability to move although nothing stronger than the air touches me. Our breathing becomes matched until it is all but impossible to discern that there are indeed two of us. Eyes locked, I move closer only to find that I am suddenly flanked by the stone wall occupied by his disheveled body only a moment ago. He is close. I can feel his presence, yet not him, not his body, even though he is against me. Suddenly aware of the patterns in the wall behind me, it brings to mind a map. And words... lust... anger... but I don't seem to understand. As if following a map, my eyes return to his mouth with the red spill still shining. As I watch, not knowing what to do, I see a sly somewhat nefarious grin begin to take shape. Now I know what to do. My hands go quickly to his face and I lean into him - my mouth almost upon him. Without a thought I know what I have to do; my tongue licks his lips... the lust... the anger. That was the only thing that was meant to happen, the only role I was meant to fulfill. The red lights still pulse, the streets are still wet, yet I have been seduced by something forbidden I know nothing of.

Ok, so that's it. That is the best way I can put words to it. I know, I need more therapy. It was just an image I had.

On a far less, well, weird note, I want to share a song with you. I heard it a couple of months ago on a radio station out of Canada. I think it is fabulous! You may have heard of them already but I'll try to put the link here. The band is Kasabian and the song is Club Foot. Enjoy! =)

Does anyone else feel the need?

So admitting it is half the battle, right? Then I admit it. I am an utterly shameless car commercial fan. Oh, not the cars themselves... although the Cadillac CTS/STS one where it wildly chases all the other cars around the ballroom is great (kinda reminds me of, well, me!)...but of the songs they play. I still think I like the use of 20th Century Boy (Mark Bolan/T-Rex) in the Mitsubishi commercial a couple of years ago. For the sake of discussion, it was also redone by Placebo for the movie Velvet Goldmine.

No matter though, I simply find myself liking the music in car commercials better than most of what is on the radio. Lately there has been an influx of blues - from delta to memphis, rock to slit-your-wrist... all types of blues. This I love. Whatever I am doing, if I hear one of these musical gems, my butt starts to wiggle almost uncontrollably. Soon enough, I find that I am upright and arms are flailing about. (This happened EVERY time I heard 2oth Century Boy.) Unfortunately... a few times... I made the 'rocker' face and played air guitar. Iknow, I know, it's not pretty. But it IS a hell of alot of FUN! WooHoo! Shake yo' ass...

Ahem, ok... I'm ok now. Until the next commercial comes on... warning: flailing body parts.

I hope the link for 20th Century Boy works, if not, sorry - it's a great song! You should be able to scroll to the bottom to hear a sample.

Clean Up Crew

Well, I'm the clean up crew. I am still trying to rebuild some amount of order back onto my lovely HP. I have to change the window fonts... they are hideous. I have lost sleep over less, so I better get to it.

Today was filled with the fun of selecting new spectacles! Well, frames at least. I managed to utterly klobber my current pair and I am about 3 days away from delicately securing them with silver duct tape. I could use black electrical tape, but I prefer the silver. The current frames are black so I figure the silver will lend a certain 70s/Kiss/Glam Rock flair to them. It's kind of funny... I'm not used to wearing my contacts, so everything looks really HUGE with them in. Better avoid fitting room mirrors or you are all gonna hear one big scream.

Oooh - got to have my passport photo taken today. I have learned that I am completely devoid of all color except for my eyes and hair. I literally blended into the background. This may be one of the reasons I get asked if I'm Canadian alot. Perhaps they mean Northern Canada. Way northern. All I have to do is fill my little form out and do something with it (don't know what as I haven't read it yet) and get my renewed passport. For those of you that live out of the country... I will be setting touring dates upon receipt of my new passport, don't fret. =)

Also, I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge the number of really interesting (in a good way) people I have had the opportunity to chat with over the past few months. I like having new ways to see the world... thanks.

Damn you, Technology!

First, let me say that I just need to vent. Then I will quietly leave you all alone to do whatever it is that you are doing...

It has come to my attention that I have become a whore for basic technological advances. And that is not a pretty picture. I should have recognized the signs sooner:

• Mild panic when forgetting my cell phone - in the next room.
• Fear of having my cell phone stolen should I leave it in my (locked) car. Not fear of the car being stolen, but the phone.
• Feeling like I've had an extra 8 espressos when Blogger refuses to post comments or let me edit.
• Realizing that my Favorites list and my Bookmarks are probably inching toward the triple digits. Each.
• Having an uncanny way of being able to locate almost any item in them immediately.
• Settings I chose black out my screen (yay-energy saving) after 10 minutes on the screensaver. Like speaking to fill an awkward silence, I feel compelled to get my ass up and wiggle the mouse, just to begin the screensaver once again. Repeat.

Oh, these are not good things.

And because recently I could not get to a website - just ONE little website - I have spent (no lie) 4+ hours on-line with Tech Support. Damn that incessant obsessing! Mine and theirs! They had me do everything. Twice. I was well aware that I was not dealing with a call center in the US, which isn't a big deal. The problem is that when I ask a question and my response is ..."Yes! That's great!"... I tend to lose just a wee bit of confidence. Shortly thereafter, I was instructed to reinstall something. The next few minutes are a bit of a blur. I think I was passing out. Click to download and 46 brand-spankin' new windows, complete with a lovely error message in each one jump rapid fire, right in my face, as if to taunt me from the far off land of Tech Support. In the end... I had to do a recovery. I have now lost just about every setting I put on this thing. This is a cruel joke to play on someone who is a) obsessive and b) obviously determined to be a techno-nerd.

I hate being Technology's whore. I never wanted it to be that way. I thought our relationship would be the equivalent of casual sex. Boy was I wrong. On the brighter side... I can get into the previously unattainable website now. :::sigh:::

Alert... Shocking Revelation to follow... Alert...

Well, it has just been brought to my attention that I have no life and obsessions are unhealthy. Wow. I just didn't see that one coming. :::cough::: I used to have one, don't get me wrong - it's just that that one wasn't very good either. Help me a moment, won't you?

I'll throw out a few snippets of my life along with what goes on in my head and we'll see if we can make heads or tails of this 'having no life' thing.

• I work in a basement. I have no windows. It is dark and scary. Even the EXIT signs pulse at odd intervals reminiscent of morse code quite possibly triggering the occasional seizure. There is the constant hum of the IV hoods' ventilation systems which drown out, well, most things. You never know if someone is approaching you (or is a mere 6 inches away) unless you turn and see them or they speak loudly. Either way it is bad because by that time you are startled half to death and have a) cowered submissively b) mewled pathetically c) urinated a little. Sometimes it is all of the above.
• I live in a very small house, so much of the above applies. In said small house, I help to take care of another human being. Although not a child, there are similarities. For instance, I have no privacy. It is not uncommon to find the bathroom door come flying open and to hear, "oh, I didn't know where you were.", at which time I am grasping feverishly for a square of toilet paper for, for what really... protection? Modesty? I think modesty flew out the tiny window in the tiny house when my not-so-tiny ass was parading about for all to see. Even with the shock of the door busting open, I still recognize that this would be an appropriate opportunity for this individual to close the door, turn, and leave. Well, they leave - but the door stays open. :::sigh::: Another thing is that this person and I are like night and day. Not at odds for the most part, it is just strained some of the time. And the responsibility for another person is starting to get to me. In a way, I am like Mort Rainey in Secret Window... I can be up for 2 hours then deem it necessary to nap again, for many more hours (without the killing part as far as I am aware). Currently, I have to be ahead of this other person's needs and personally, I find it difficult.
• I work erratic days and shifts, ensuring that I cannot get too involved in anything that requires any amount of commitment or regularity. In addition, I pick up extra days so I never have a set schedule.
• I no longer consider going to the bar every night fun. Oh, I used to. And it got waaayyyy out of control. When you go to the bar so much then find yourself following the last beer by a strong cup of black coffee at the bar owners house around 8 the next morning you know you are in it deep. The lot of us were really. I remember coming home (driving poorly I imagine) one morning around 8:30am, drunk, stinking like a VFW on a Sunday morning - and finding a car in the driveway. Oddly, it had been stolen and abandoned. I can only imagine how the dialogue must have played out with the police officer. That was a strange situation. Then came the morning that I had to get someone to the hospital on 2-3 hours of drunken sleep. I think I can have somewhat of an addictive personality and I am a little afraid of sliding back into the old routine. I don't think I would, but there is always the chance.
• There is always the notion that things have gone awry in my melon. It's the greatest place to be sometimes, as I'm sure yours is as well, but no one I know really gets that. Sometimes I need to be away from my head but end up only going to another subdivision. There, I retreat with silly musings, what I hope to be harmless obsessions, and playing 'What If...' alot. I tend to talk with accents (in me 'ed) when playing that game - something I just realized. I dont' know what my problem is, but sometimes I like it just the way it is (in me 'ed) ya' know?

So, dearest reader of my blog... what do you think? Based on this rambling post (and any others you may have read)... do I need a life? And where, pray tell, do I get one?!

Eau de Odelay

Nothing much to say, but hey, that's never stopped me before....

Got to hear the new Beck song again - E-Pro (from Guero) and it is just fantastic. It has the same feel as Where It's At (from Odelay) and is just a hell of alot of fun. I decided I liked it about 12 seconds into it. I may need to buy the CD. I am famous for buying CDs after hearing one song then never listening to them again. Maybe I won't buy it. But I did just get in the latest Beta Band CD. I'm sure you'll rest easier knowing that.

You know, a funny thing happened while proclaiming that I did not like Johnny Depp. I learned that I actually DO like him. The guy has such a quirky demeanor. I'm so far out of the loop that I'm 34 by the time that I actually realize the guy can act. All this time I thought the hype was because of his looks which aren't of any particular interest to me - guess what one person finds appealing, another ignores. I am drawn to disarray, so perhaps that is why I find him attractive when he is moderately disheveled and bemused. Once Upon a Time in Mexico had me laughing SO very hard, mostly because his lines were somewhat inappropriate and goofy. Think there is a chance of me being somewhat backward myself?

By weeks end, one of my Pharmacists and my Director will be gone. The new Director will step in and I will most likely be a tightly wound, impatient (more than usual), frantic little bitch. On the bright side, PMS will not rear it's ugly head during this time - lives will be saved. I have little tolerence for the ass-kissing that often accompanies these changing of the guard ceremonies. Blech. I just don't have it in me. I'm coming down off of a manic/hypomanic episode and feel like the inflatable swimming pool toy that someone has let the air out of - cast aside, halfway in the shrubbery. There's a little air left for the sole purpose of retaining the general shape, but short of that, I am depleted. And now, I have to play nice. Ever want to revert back to being 5 when throwing a fantastic temper tantrum was acceptable? Yeah...me too.

Here's something I just need to get off my bondage porn star (see previous post) chest... when you are approaching oncoming traffic at night, it is more than acceptable to shut your fucking brights off when nearing a distance of 500 feet. You do NOT need to wait for your headlights to glaze over the oncoming vehicle's windshield, saturating every square inch of the interior, effectively searing the retinas of the other driver. Is this no longer taught in Driver's Ed.?

Oh, and how could I forget... tomorrow is the Ides of March! Beware.

My apparently sordid past...

Not so long ago I had this brilliant idea to um, well, Google myself, or more specifically my name. Here are my findings:

The first listing was for some sort of highfallutin' cake shop of sorts. Ok. I can deal with that. The next stop along the way was somewhat different. Unbeknownst to me, I am a bondage porn star; with an extensive library under my studded leather belt. Movie title upon movie title... a veritable smorgasbord of whip crackin' goodness. There were pages of results... PAGES I tell you! Although somewhat intrigued I refrained from indulging further. My latest search has yielded the most unsettling results of all, although not in the way one might think. Hop back in time about, oh, 6 or 7 years... I had a friend that was a model and she convinced me to enter some everyday pictures in a magazine's modeling contest. Well, fast forward to current times and I'll give you 3 guesses what I just found on the internet. And it is not really associated with the magazine any longer... it is just floating around out there. I want it gone. It has my full name in it as it was for an entry (and it is an odd name - for God's sake... someone chose it as a porn star name!).

So here I sit, quite unsure of the whole situation. In keeping with the search engine results, I suppose I could go bake a cake. Or don a leather corset, chain choker, and trusty whip...

K-RACK!!!

New version of 'Looney Toons'....

Just to refresh everyone's memory, I am a 49%er.

Here is an interesting cartoon for you. Makes you think. ::gasp::


Respectfully selected from MBlog.

Guess this gives new meaning to 'fiery redhead'....

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Extreme
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Moderate
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

So I have a seat waiting on the 7th level. There are Harpies on the 7th level. I can handle Harpies. Just as long as it's not clowns. Or ventriloquist dummies.... :::shudder:::

Take the Dante's" Inferno Hell Test

Well, I do believe I am the shit...

Perhaps that is a bit overstated, but I would say that I am happy over my latest accomplishment.

If you would all step to the right and scroll down, you will notice that there have been some new items added to this lovely Blog in the sidebar. It was all trial and error, so if you notice something utterly hideous, please notify me.

1. The weight loss counter is for me - it's easier for me to stay on track if I have a place to report it.
2. Music Worth a Damn is for YOU my compadres. After all, if I'm writing it, I know they are worth a damn! =)
3. Erratic Links (Note: NOT Erotic Links, although that may be interesting) is a list of a variety of things that I like at the moment. Some will stay, like the Matthew Good link - which I recommend checking out now. I mean it, now, GO! You may find some peculiar links here in the future, but I am still playing. The links will be ones that I actually utilize and won't be there 'just to be odd'. I need no help in that arena.

Anyway, carry on...

The Little Landscaper

This will be brief, for me at least...

Keep in mind that I am not looking for a pat on the back when I say this... I did something nice for someone today. I was tired, sick (blood sugar dropped WAY too low-almost passed out), and extremely busy yet I took about 20 minutes away from it all to help someone that I didn't know. The only reason I mention this is that for a while there, I was thinking that this part of me was beginning to do a disappearing act. It's so easy to get caught up in things and forget how to behave like a decent human being, and I'm just glad I remembered how. I really am a nice gal... I swear! =)

I'm going to try one of the links again so I can make sure that it works. Ok, to make sure I remember how to do it...
For many years I have been enticed by this subject and have looked into it little by little. I don't want to give the wrong impression, but I just find it somewhat intriguing. I think it is the ritual, mystery, and clandestine nature of it all and going back to a different time altogether. If anyone would happen to have any input on the matter, please feel free to share your insight.

I was awakened this morning by a soon-to-be 3 year old adorned with day-glo orange safety goggles and a fully operational (noisy and brightly lit) 'weed-whacker'. He was peering at me just over the top of my mattress with those silly little goggles on. As much fun as my nephew's visit was, I think it tired me out a bit...

And on that note.... a lovely evening to all.

A wierd little soup...

Well, I came to a realization of sorts today.

1. We are all insanely mad.
2. We are all the epitome of grace.

I think I lost sight of that for quite a while. In you, in me, even in that guy down the street. I have the ability to be a cruel judge of character at times and of that, I am not proud. Yet something recently managed to wiggle into the neurotransmitter highway in my loftier regions and it must have done some hefty clogging up there. I remembered that a person can be both of those things, one of things, or none of them. The true beauty is that there is nothing wrong with any of the options. There will always be those that slip through the cracks and seek that path, but I think most of us are all part of a wierd little soup that is often ill-defined. I used to remember that and needed no prompting to put it to use. Not realizing that somehow that awareness eluded me, I never noticed that I was putting up barriers. Sensing a perforation in that barrier is like an immense burden being lifted. It gives me the clarity and desire to peer through the precipitate which had settled to occlude my view. I am grateful to catch a glimpse of what I had just come so close to losing. The effort that lies ahead will be in remembering to apply it - for you, me, and even the guy down the street.

For today, I am okay with the wierd little soup.

Oil and Water

I am hoping to write a different post later if I feel better, although I'm sure no one will lose sleep if I don't. I am still obsessing, feeling terribly edgy, and now, now I have the feeling that a lil' bit o' depression is lurking around the corner.

:::sigh:::

While I realize that the things I am feeling right now are not the things that make the sun rise and set, I feel an amount of guilt equal to if it were, just because I have those feelings at this time. There are more important things going on around me, things that involve so much more. I should want to be feeling more, yet I feel so much and that is nearly impossible for me to think of anything else. If I let myself feel more, that may press on the edges of what I know my limits to be. So what happens when you want to be there for someone and you are paralyzed by fear of your own reactions and behavior. What if you let someone down when they need you the most by failing to succeed as a friend? Or what if you never tried at all? If roles were reversed, I would hope the other person could take the step for me, but then again, I won't ever expect anything from another person, so that's an argument down the drain.

I, the aberrant metronome.

On the not-so-desperate sounding side... I found a wonderful little website that permits you to upload pics as screensavers/wallpaper for your cell phone. You may all know about it, but I didn't, so I was quite excited. As a matter of fact, I saved several pics from this trailer and used them on my phone. Ok, so I hope you can use those links - this is the first time I have tried it, so let me know if it works; if not, my apologies. No matter, I can hardly wait until July 15th!

I've also decided that I like virtually NO clothes in stores. Good thing I wear scrubs at work! Oh, and guess what!? My new weight loss total is #52!!! I need to get a cheap sewing machine, bunches of odd clothing, and a really good manic phase. Oh yeah, and probably alot of bandaids! I think the look I am going for would be a more sedate version of Industrial Renaissance. Yes, yes, that sounds about right.

Anyway, my erratic behavior and I are going to take a break for now...

Don't tell me what I don't want to hear.

Hmmm, well, on the really bright side I am still on my Johnny Depp kick, which came up out of nowhere, really. I am desperately trying to find a Depp screensaver/wallpaper (whatever the difference is) for my cell phone. These sites are a bunch of shit. I hate them. I am simply surrendering and becoming putty in the hands of this new found obsession, which is guaranteed to supply a mind altering level of rapturous content, and these shit ass sites make me go through all this WORK to attain what, in the end, I cannot anyway. I have yet to download one.

So now I just have to revel in it for the next few moments until it all gets ruined. Typically, I can't just stop at the basics; instead, I have to actually read up on these people, things, or places about which I am obsessing. There begins the downfall. I'd rather not learn that these obsessions are everyday things - I like the riddle of it. Once you get a clue to a riddle, it's not much fun now, is it? Either way, it won't be too long until I step outside of myself and see my obsession as creepy, although I love it when it's here. That's usually how it happens. That's the excitement of mania - it's a freefall and you have no idea when you may land. By that time, you either don't want to or you are so battered that it is like a port in a storm. Although I did read that the character of Captain Jack Sparrow was loosely based of Keith Richards. That would certainly explain the odd traits... mainly the staggering and slurring.

Interestingly, I had a comment on my last post complete with a link, which I would love to put here, but apparently I am too dumb to figure out how to add nifty little links. Damn Blogger Help! This link was put there to tempt me; to fuel my obsession. The devil taunts me on my own Blog!!! I know the link was put there in the spirit of interest and enjoyment, so my previous drama was in jest. I will add, though, that I have devoted an unhealthy amount of time watching the upcoming movie trailer on that link. (The whole Willie Wonka thing was always somewhat unsettling to me, but that is changing.) I love the outfit (what is it with him and hats?), the pale face, and peculiar affectations. I suppose I could name the enticer ... but he knows who he is! Oh yeah, and it's in the previous post's comments... ahem. I think this film comes out in the summer 2 days prior to my birthday, so it is now said enticer's responsibility to get my ass to the premier and finagle a seat near Johnny Depp (only if he's in costume). Of course I kid - unless you could swing it =) ... but I have enjoyed checking that link out. My next stop may be Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

I'm considering putting up a separate blog of favorite quotes and sayings. I have such a bad memory, I keep forgetting what I like... Might be good to have a point of reference.

Two new good things (other than my obsession):

1. Newly purchased pale blue and green eyelash scarf
2. Discovering that vodka and blueberry juice make a healthful snack

I stare into the chasm, close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Then I jump, for I have no choice.

In one respect, it is really funny. If you are not in the mood for an Alice-in-Wonderlandesque tidbit o' prose, then leave now. Run. For the love of God and all that is, well, of the average realistic capacity... run like the wind. I mean it. Go on, get out.

WARNING!!! WARNING!!! WARNING!!!

The MANIA has landed... I repeat, the mania has landed!

I have been spending the past several days in a hypomanic state. The past 48 hours have been really edgy. The past 24 hours I have been becoming increasingly tense and the past 12 hours have placed me nose to nose with sweet, guiding obsession...

-For those of you not familiar with a manic individual, it's gonna get a little jumbled.

Over the past several days, I had the pleasure of watching Edward Scissorhands again. And again. (Notice the trend...) I must explain that Edward and I have had a very deep love affair for many years. I can fill volumes based on him. I was smitten from the first moment I laid eyes on him. His quiet resolve, desire for contact and gentle nature were in entire contradiction to his outward appearance. He could have easily taken a much different approach but instead, he found no need for bitterness and welcomed every opportunity with such modesty, even when spurned. Now, you may think that this is all pointless, and it is, but who cares, read on. This is the part where it gets tricky. I get very angry when I hear someone remind me that Edward is a character and that (I hate to even SAY this) Johnny Depp portrays said character.

I will take this opportunity to make this a commercial of sorts. Yes, I know that this is really not a subject worthy of debate. I also realize that I am 34 years old. It's all creepy in a way but unfortunately, I do not always get to set the rules...

Anyway, I have never considered myself to be a huge Johnny Depp fan. I am sort of neutral I suppose. I did watch him back in the day on 21 Jump Street, but that was mainly because of Richard Greico. I adored Depp's character in Sleepy Hollow, too. The repeated loss of consciousness was amusing. Last night, I decided I had to check out pics of Edward and get some Edward wallpaper on my computer. So amid all of the photos, articles, and bios, the misfiring synapses in my brain extracted 'become a Johnny Depp stalker'. And so I did. And it has been good. And now I am scared. If you tell him, he will be too.

I rented Pirates of the Caribbean. Ok, I have to admit... he's pretty hot in that movie. Now, maybe it is just my propensity for having an attraction to staggering, swaggering, slurring, scruffy-looking men with international flare that have a tendency to use words in a fantastic way (never mind the slurring). Never really knowing what side he is on, what he is thinking (or IF he is thinking) is a bonus, too. During my immediate plunge into Depp-dom, I found myself feeling as if I needed to respond to his talents in a smitten schoolgirl sort of way. Geez, that makes me sound like a bit of a whore - and I don't even have a red carpet. I found myself rewinding and laughing louder to whatever he said. And so goes the mania... I am trying to calculate the number of times that I could watch that movie again before I need to crawl in my bed and get at least a little bit of sleep.

I am now intrigued by that stumbling, slurring, somewhat feminine, seafaring plunderer! I know this is not natural or normal for that matter. Oddly, that means nothing to me. It is as if I have been strapped into the roller coaster and decided mid-loop that I no longer want to be on this ride. Too bad, I'll be here until the ride comes to a complete stop. Until then, I'll just peer into the chasm while I'm up here...

Just don't EVER remind me that Edward Scissorhands is portrayed by an actor - then I may throw you into the chasm first.