Quick post here; perhaps the post'll be shorter than the title but thats fine - I'm secure in the length of my... oops, must be too much spam!

On the bright side, I'm glad the spammers thoughtfully think of ways to enlarge my penis. And then, they repeatedly send it to me. Day after freakin' day. Sigh. Oh well.

So, I met with a new neurologist yesterday. What do I know so far? More than before but less than I'd like. Let's see, he basically disagreed with the other doc citing some of my concerns, which made me feel like I was right in questioning the first diagnoses. Yes, that's plural, because there were initially three. I have a brain MRI and an EEG set up for next week. That should tell us more. In the mean time he truly feels this is a central nervous system (CNS) disorder. Eh, not so great. But we're working on it and I feel like he's listening and communicating.

I'm beginning to hate people on cell phones. Rude, rude, rude mo fos that are going to test my last bit of patience. Do not sit in a public place talking about 'baby daddy' then give me stink eye because I make too much noise or wander too close. In a friggin public place. Bring it on! Bring it on! {Enter image of LiVEwiRe doing weaving, bobbing, dodging, shadowboxing maneuvers.}

Wait... you've come to the right spot, I've just done a bit of redecorating

Not sure what I'm going to do with this but it will be a work in progress. I'll have to find something snazzy to do. Over two years with the old template was enough. So now I build on this. Or I change it; not sure if it messes with my eyes. We'll see. For now, I'm going to bed.

ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz

But without me you're only you

That's a line from one of my favorite songs - anyone know it without using the power of the internet? Been playing it quite a bit lately. Still, cool lyric.

So here's a bit of an update before a newsflash near the end. I still can't breathe nor can I get my chest to stop feeling like it's in the grip of a giant, intermittently crushing fist. Drugs help a bit but I can't take enough to really stop it or I'd fall asleep. Not bad, unless I'm at work. Of course, I'm lashing out at people and making dumb choices and taking even dumber chances. Pushing things, I suppose. I drive past that building daily. I can't talk to anyone about this, they wouldn't get the history. Hell, I don't get the history. Until I fizzle out, I'll feel like a time bomb. But I will say that I have not, as of yet, turned to the destructive behavior I have in the past.

Had a meeting with the big shots (ha) at work (hospital) and the brief version is that most likely I will be unemployed in two months. Which means that I won't have insurance. And this stupid knee of mine that is giving me trouble more and more each day may have to wait for surgery. Or I could rush and get it done. But they might fire me if I push it. Fantastic. That doesn't even take into account the neurological things going on.

Then there's the job with the school. They are so disorganized that it's not funny. I'm doing the best I can do with few resources. They have no idea of what is going on with me anywhere so they just expect me to smile and do my job. Reasonable. I just feel like I don't have what I need to do my job and I find myself dreaming about it. Remember those dreams about being in school and not having ever done one bit of homework and it's test day? Yeah, I'm living that, but this time I'm the teacher!!!

My mother is still looking for work and is now talking about moving out of the area/state to look for work. She's very depressed and I feel terrible. Part of me is a bit cranky that I moved back here for my family and she might be going, which would also change my role again in caring for my gram (who wants me closer anyway), but she's just trying to do what's best for her. Can't fault her. It's hard to not know how to help by making a job appear, yet I want to.

In a nutshell, my family is pretty screwy (some of which I have to avoid), one job is stressing me, one is trying to croak drastically, I'm doing some post traumatic stress thing and drugging the symptoms away, I need surgery, otherwise my health is declining and of course, I'm missing Pittsburgh. It's just been on my mind alot. Man, this almost sounds like what they warn you about when you don't forward those dumb chain emails, doesn't it?

But. There is a small glimmer of hope. I think I want to go back to school. I mean, I know I do, but there's alot that has to be worked out. I used to want to be a psychologist but anymore, I think I'm just too fucked in the head to do that. Either way, I'm thinking about school. And the grand part is, I can attend anywhere. Time to reinvent LiVEwiRe.

Annnd, I saw these. Oh happy friggin day!

I want them. Ok, if not those exactly, then something similar. I'd say it fits my mood quite nicely. And if it ever stops snowing, I just might buy them. Come to mama my little juicies...

I've got a day and a half off. What to do, what to do. Basically, I'll see y'all Monday. Maybe with some new shoes.

So, you figure out that lyric yet? ;)

I don't think I can possibly live enough days to encompass the amount of therapy I need

Wow. Where to begin. I know, here would be good. If you're going to read this post I will suggest going back to that one first. It's lengthy so you can just skim over it but it will give you a foundation.

Ok, done? Alrighty then. So last night I went out with a bunch of friends and people I didn't know for the celebration of my friend's 32nd birthday. Had a limo and hotel rooms and all those responsible sorts of things. So, why am I not just gushing about the night? Well, I'm still hung over (yep, now I remember why I don't drink that much anymore) and most of the night was really quite fun. But.

Here's where I get honest, confused, bitter, you name it. The post I referred to above will give you sufficient background.

My cousin's husband spent more time with his hand on my ass than on his drink. I thought we established that was a no-go sort of thing and it should have ended there. So when I left the hotel (to get a cab home) he followed me at about a five second delay; he was going outside to smoke. Around the corner from the room he felt compelled to pin me to the wall, groping his hands in places they never should have been in and trying to kiss me. With me pushing him away it was more like a head-butt than a kiss thankfully. Let's just say it got ugly and there was a struggle. I'm quite sure he was prepared to do me right there up against the wall but my plan was pretty much opposite. And I won.

Now. None of you know me. But I think you know that in most cases I'm pretty strong willed and won't go quietly. But if you reread that other post, you may see where this circumstance differs. I interacted no differently with him last night than I did with anyone else. Slutty behavior can't be blamed. I wore jeans and a tee shirt; nothing low rise, nothing cropped. Which, even if I was looking and acting slutty does not make it right for someone to fucking ambush me, pin me to the wall, get their hands tangled in my lace... especially, ESPECIALLY with his wife (my cousin) behind the door down the hall. I told him this was going to get him in trouble and he didn't care. When I threatened to knee him in the balls and kick his knee (just had surgery) he backed off. Bodily harm works for me. I'll tell you here and now, I can work with bodily harm. I'm the reason they have gun laws.

So I feel awkward and in this whole thing (I talked to my friend Erica about it - but she doesn't really know where I'm coming from because she doesn't know the history that you all do from that post) because I don't want my cousin to know. Ever. Do I want her to know that she's married to a beast? Yeah. Do I want to be the one to tell her? No. And of course I'll feel like I'm on trial when I didn't ask for that. I'll be letting her down no matter what. I don't want to be the one to do that. See the tough situation? For me, yeah, this is like opening old wounds. Big time. But if I take enough pills tonight the pain in my chest will stop and I'll be able to breathe again. There must be some vibe that I'm sending out that triggers a predatory response in guys like this. Only they can hear it - like a dog whistle of sorts. This has to stop. Maybe the pain in my chest is my heart actually breaking. For the pain that my cousin would feel if she found out, for how I feel about myself right now, and for what I can never have because a select few have taken my ability to trust. To let my guard down for fear that this will happen.

No, not all men suck. Just apparently the ones that want anything to do with me. There is something that frightens me, though; one of those double edged swords I suppose. And that is that one day it will stop. Because that might mean that I did find a loophole in a gun law or claimed to have not seen him when putting my car in reverse. Or it might mean that I summon too many pretty colored pills to make that pain in my chest stop.

Right now I just want to run. Maybe someday I will.

I'm a fan of sans serif typefaces so why in the hell am I using this font?!

But that doesn't make sense for a title because the title IS in a sans serif font... this is the reason I suck at decision-making. I notice too much but typically about the unimportant aspects. Ooh. I shouldn't refer to the text as 'unimportant'. I could give it a complex. Wait, what's that? Oh, just my neuroses showing; carry on.

But I've got to tell you. I really am having a problem with another, equally pointless issue. I heard this song and didn't really like it that much until I heard the 'screamy' part at about 2:45. Not alot of screamy, just enough, you know? I'm thinking this guy has a pretty cool voice but he's teamed up with this semi-throaty, slithery sounding chick. How does that work? So I go to a site of theirs, find a video (for the first song) and there you go... a couple of guys and this brunette with a guitar. So I'm thinking it's feasible that this voice is coming out of her. And the song starts. And this manly-man (with facial hair, no less) pipes up with this, this... ugh. This sound. Now. The sound in and of itself is good I suppose. But even watching him I just can't understand that voice coming out of him. Well, the screamy part yes, the tendrilly sounding stuff, not so much. Why does this bug me? Who knows, it just does.

Life is still up in the air. I'm so very restless. And, just to make things fun, my appointment with the orthopedic doc revealed something more sinister than tendonitis that doesn't want to heal. It would seem that my knee has two places where the cartilage is just gone through the full thickness down to the bone. He spoke of surgery, possible cartilage transplants (ew) and the eventual possibility of a knee replacement. Well, I can safely say I didn't see that one coming.

And I cut my hair. Unplanned. Longer in front and shortish in back. If I weren't so pale I'd take it platinum, too. The red suits me better.

Back the *bleep* off

Because I keep in touch with the woman who lived in the apartment above me in Pittsburgh (yes, remember the one I called the police on her first day in town?) I have found out that my old apartment has been rented. I feel replaced, dispensible, forgotten. Like not only has the chapter ended, but the book has been closed, doused in gasoline and tossed in the fire. Interesting. I'm missing Pittsburgh terribly and wondering what in the hell is wrong with my brain.

Positive or negative, I still have my job at the hospital. But not for long. I've decided to look at other options. Given the fact that I narrowly avoided chemical restraints and the cozy intimacy of the back of a squad car last night in retaliation to the behavior of a particular pharmacist, I think it may be time for me to consider other options. It's easier to defend a short work history than it is to explain assault charged incurred on the job. Or so I assume.

Haven't smoked a cigarette in five months but I've been tempted this past week like you wouldn't believe. I'm learning something. I knew my smoking was habit-based and triggered by stress. The more severe the stress, the more I smoked. It wasn't an 'enjoyment' thing. Lately, I've learned something HUGE. Because I have wanted to smoke so badly recently, I realize that it was also a punishment issue. Stress = smoking. Fine. But it was also then that I smoked more (often until I was sick) as a means to punish myself for apparently making the wrong choice or putting myself in that kind of situation. Guess that takes the self mutilation theory to another level. Also makes a statement about where I am mentally now if after not smoking for five months I'm struggling like all hell to not start.

Oh. And I have PMS.

So for anyone that wants to start even the slightest bit of shit with me, may I suggest you simply back the fuck off. I'm not proud of the way I react sometimes but I do know that it happens*. Just let me sit and do what needs to be done for the time being. Go ponder Britney's new salon style. Buy Ms. Ritchie some food. Watch Robin Hood on BBC. Go to a casino, that's a fun one.

But don't poke a stick through my cage. I bite.

*After all is said and done, I'm not in a bad mood. I'm just really, really edgy. In a way, I'm gaining clarity all over the damned place and that's what is a little overwhelming. Clarity, timing, and a dark sense of humor; all part of a nutritious breakfast.

Do not adjust your set....

You won't believe these words are coming from me, which is why I feel compelled to put it in writing.

Yesterday, I had a good day. I didn't work anywhere. Limited phone calls and dealings with doctors. No fitting 5 hours of lecture into less than 2 hours. None of it.

My mother, grandmother and I went to opening week festivities for a fairly local casino. They are way more into it than I am, but that's ok. It was like a mini vacation. I lost $150 but I'm ok with that. Because I got to step away from the things running tracks in my head. And we ate, and we laughed at people, and we threatened machines and we loved it when my cousin stopped by! Not all of the time was spent happy - face it folks, three generations of women? Eesh. But it was good. And I'm pleased. And I'd do it again.