I will burn for you

Feel pain for you
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart
I'll tear it apart
(#1 Crush - Garbage)

So I was going to put up corny lyrics to some silly love song. But I couldn't think of one... I swear, not one. I was even browsing a lyrics page and couldn't find anything. Then... I settled on this song... which I completely love. And it's sort of a love song. In a creepy, stalker kind of way; especially if you listen and catch the rest of the lyrics. But that's ok, because yours truly has a slightly offbeat (I hear the collective gasp now) idea that kind of fits the theme...

Well, not so much a stalking theme (don't worry, I'm too lazy to be a good stalker) but the 'love' theme. I mean really, 'stalking' is just a highly concentrated form of love... right?! So anyway, I had this idea... I was talking to a friend about me not having been in a relationship for what seems to be ages and in being the incredible person that he is, had some wonderful things to say about how he views me. And no, I don't mean through a secret peephole in the door, I mean truly flattering things. But here's the point - I just don't get that; or maybe it's that I can't wrap my brain around the whys and hows. I mean, maybe in some ways, but here's this fabulous person seeing something in me that I can't see myself. Then I thought about that further - we're all like that to some extent, right? Of course we are! We all see ourselves as less than what we either are, or are capable of being.

So here's my thought. I'm making a nifty little tee shirt with one category for the back: good; then one for the front: evil. On the back I'd want to list some of the good things about me, even if it's something I've been told but can't quite admit to. (Yes, I'm one of those people that can admit to the evils easier than the positive side of myself.) It won't say anything other than 'good' or 'evil' and the lists. People are naturally inquisitive so their nosy asses would want to read it. My list of evils would probably be longer, so I put it on the front... that way, when "all the guys" (like my subtle marketing ploy?) read it they can, at best, take a break and look into mezmerizing green eyes or at worst: I won't feel like someone is staring at my ass for ages. This way, no one can ever say...'I never knew you _____' or 'what in the hell is this ______ all about?!' See? Total honesty from the get go!

Just for shits and giggles, here's a few things I'd put on it:

good

(Supposedly) sparkling laughter (was that the right word?!)
never takes the biggest/last piece of pizza
let's you win now and then when totally kicking your ass
remembers the little things about you
can get/keep your attention with a single kiss
not afraid to try new things
can make you laugh
has a million smiles in waiting

evil

likes to throw things
known to swear like a sailor
forgets the big things about everything
won't share frappuccinos
has a fit when going to the grocery store is suggested
habitual car-singer; loud and off key - deal with it
cluttered - if I can't see it, I forget about it...
stubborn

So that's what I'm thinking... then all of the major points are just out there. Of course I think my good list is over but boy do I have more for the evil list! It would most likely wrap around the sleeve so I'd better make this a long sleeved shirt. See, if enough people read it, it increases your chances of ending up with a good match and also, you can get feedback. Like several people may tell me that I must indeed share my fraps. At that point I have to re-evaluate... but I don't see that 'frap sharing' thing happening. There's bargaining power here, I tell you!

So... what would you put on your shirt?!

And a good night to you, too.

For those of you following 'the saga of me', the dream-post from the other day is settling. I'll just say that I grew balls bigger than I thought possible for the circumstance. I acted (reluctantly) and lived to tell. But I won't bore you with all of that.

During a conversation earlier today, I was discussing my apparently fundamental flaws based on the fact that I have this strange ability to be like the water to a relationship's oil. I don't think it's on purpose, but it's quite effective either way. Maybe it's true... maybe girls DO have cooties. So this little conversation got me to thinking about exes and such; which, if honesty is involved - I had to delve way into the archives. Brought out alot of thoughts... ok, now keep this in mind as we move along.

Went to work, more changes there. Almost got myself totally high on gasoline fumes on the way home (unintentionally) as it would seem that they have found a sneaky way into my car. Baffling. And headache inducing. So I walk onto the patio, which is enclosed, and come very near screaming and losing muscle control of my bladder... there was a small body face down on the floor. (Keep in mind that it's after 10:30pm and dark.) I'm so glad I have a two second delay switch. If I didn't, I would have been waking the neighbors, only to be greeted in wet pants all because my gram apparently put her stuffed Halloween witch on the floor. Yes. I was so irate that I almost tore it limb from limb but no matter what you do - stuffed decorations just never learn. So there goes the adrenaline; nice little shock to the system great for sleeping, eh?

As I come in casting off all my work-related gear, I can see a note on the dining room table. I have some repair guys coming tomorrow, so I figured it was about that, perhaps a schedule change. Instead I learn that a friend from long ago was killed in a car accident. His name was Brad. He was the first boy that I really liked being around and I, the first girl he admitted didn't have cooties. We'd find dumb ways to spend more time together and everyone knew what we didn't. We'd had one of those little crushes on each other. Even at 35, more than 25 years since we'd first read together, wrote little plays, went to each others houses toting the latest album and played in the woods, my family still asked about him. Obviously we grew apart (pretty much when I moved away) but the memories are there. Thinking of all the corny stuff we did, just to spend time together still makes me smile, at this very moment, after all this time.

Considering that I've lost several friends in the past few months (all but one being due to vehicular accidents) this has made my mind go in that direction now. First, I have fumes that try to knock me out (or get me tremendously high...), then a stuffed witch that almost has me screaming like a sissy, and now another death. All within a few minutes of each other. And then I wonder why I can't sleep...

I think a Klonopin is in order here. Well, maybe half... otherwise I'll be drooling on the repair guy when here gets here at 7:30am. And really, isn't that a little early to be doing repairs? Perhaps I'm just not destined to sleep. Oh well. =)

This key is to your kingdom...

This key is to your heart
Neither one is a doorway
But both of them a part
So one foot in front of the other.
(Avalanche - Matthew Good)


So I went to Pittsburgh. Cried almost two full hours there, which was most of the way. Then I got fidgety and edgy. Eventually I fell into a numb sort of trance state. We remembered each other for the most part, but there was something strained about it. Yet, in other ways it was like slipping into your oldest, most comfortable jeans... they remember the curve of your body.

Here's a few pics I took from Station Square.... after that, a few words from our sponsor...

Now, here's the official word from our sponsor (that would be me in this case). One thing I realized this weekend is that I don't know what I want. I want everything. I want what I cannot have. Or perhaps what I feel I don't deserve. How does one convince themselves that they are in fact, worthy? I suppose this is rhetorical... if you really knew that answer you'd be a zillionaire. And don't misunderstand, I'm not looking for anyone to start throwing any 'atta girl's my way - I'm just thinking in text form, alright? I think fear is just going to paralyze me into doing nothing until I am too old to act on anything. Then I will look back on my life and be filled with scorn and bitter contempt. How does this happen? I'm pretty much free-spirited, outspoken, outgoing and intelligent. Yet something has invited fear to come live inside of me. I don't recall leaving the door open and sending out invitations for that. And I've even provided party hats...

While I'm at it ('it' being this thing where I admit that I'm fucking things up), I'll just add this. The person in the previous post... I think they know. When I caught on to this, I came so close to just admitting that yes, it was them. It wasn't anything terrible, you know, just awkward? Then I thought that if they don't understand (as is my fear), I'll lose a friend over what is simply the truth. I'm not ready to do that. So now I'm walking the line between, 'how honest should I be if it means that I could ultimately lose things that are so important' and 'just shut your damned mouth and let it eat away at you from the inside'. Good times, eh?

Maybe it'll just be a free for all. As I look at things a little more closely, I can see that a big part of what I am thinking at any given time comes down to either denying others or denying myself. No wonder I want to either cry or hit people all the time. If I don't find a way out of this spiraled way of thinking it is just going to completely do me in; and I mean really, how productive is that? At least I know I'm stubborn as hell - that's what will get my ass back in line again.

So that's the word from your sponsor - she's a bit crazy. Ok, run along your merry way; it's not nice to stare at the crazy people. Go. Move. NOW!

Wait... I lied. Get back here. So what if it was you?!?! I'd be terribly sorry if it would be upsetting to you, yet I can't help what my mind chooses to do once I let go of the reins. For a moment, you were one of my sweetest, most comforting feelings yet the greatest of sadnesses. That was a tough trade, a big surprise; but that's the way it is. If I had the courage I'd ask directly, but honestly... what if it was you? Would it make you think less of me? [Yes, I've talked with many people today, so I know this is vague... And I suppose that is rhetorical, I don't even know.]

Well, fancy meeting you here...

...considering you're not here and all.*

Perhaps it is the end result of excessive cold/allergy meds, the lack of quality (or any) sleep, or maybe my mind had to take a bit of a vacation of sorts.

It must've been nearing 2am when I was heading to bed; I was fending off more PC villains and planning my last minute weekend trip to Pittsburgh. I picked up my book to read and began to drift off before I had realized it then sheer stubbornness (imagine that) willed me back to the (semi) conscious so that I could read and clear my mind of my life. Little did I know what a bang up job I was about to do.

I drifted off again and for a second time, managed to come back but decided it was really time for bed. Clock set, I arranged my pillows and just looked up at the ceiling for a moment. That's when you peeked around the door. You came in talking of things that were really not pertintent to the fact that uh, you were standing in my bedroom in a tee shirt and some silly boxer shorts that I remember laughing at. You were even kind enough to let me get out all my giggles over the boxers and handled it like a trooper armed with a smile that told me you were amused over my amusement. As you waited for the flow of giggles to subside, you patiently sat on the edge of the bed. I remember telling you that I was exhausted to the point of slurring my words and even picked up my clock to show you, resting it on the bed. Your demeanor changed and I watched your features shift, taking on a sense of urgency, importance under that calm exterior. For a moment, I thought I had fallen asleep again and awoke, but you were still there. I remember saying that maybe it would be best if I just left, I just needed help calling a cab as I had no idea where I should go. You wanted me to stay right where I was as you had something you needed to talk to me about and this was the only fitting opportunity. I put on my glasses, glancing at the clock still on my bed; 2:30am. The next hour and part of the following was a bit of a blur. The touch of another can bring on many different feelings. Yours made me feel I'd melted down into the mattress; it was warm, comforting, totally surrounding me - and it was an innocent enough touch, friendly yet slightly suggestive. I don't know what you wanted to tell me. That touch threw me into a peculiar state... I sensed that it was important, almost feverishly so, but that it had to do with the both of us. Not necessarily together, so to speak, maybe it was, but you and I nonetheless. I so wanted to know what you were telling me. What you think is important to me but somehow, a fairly innocent touch and an arm around me short circuited everything. I could tell by the look in your eyes that you knew that, too. You knew that only a part of me was hearing you, the rest of me riding a wave of bliss being that near to you. Even though I missed the point, you told me that things would be fine and that we'd work everything out. It was almost 4am and, unspoken, we paralleled our bodies on the bed with you comforting me, tracing the hair as it fell on my face; me, apologizing - most likely for feeling what I was feeling at that moment. I felt so protected. Which of course, I resisted; I hate doing the dependency thing. But instead, something told me to trust for the moment and take in what I was feeling, sensing. And I did. I molded my body perfectly to yours, feeling the warmth, absolute safety and trust.

And then I woke, many hours later; glasses on, clock on the bed. Odd. It was probably the first time I've slept more than four hours straight in many, many years. I know you weren't really here, I'm not fully delusional.

But you were here last night. And I cried for your absence when I woke.

* Yes, this really did happen last night. I mean it did yet it didn't. Obviously, this person wasn't here, but I reacted as if they were... glasses on, clock on the bed, the position in which I woke up in... it's like a re-enactment. I've had this happen before (I'll have to tell you some of the funnier tidbits someday) but never like this. Never with a person and never with this much emotion. This left me elated and comforted when I awoke, for about three seconds... then I realized what had played out. A cruel trick of the mind; an injection of venomous spite directly to the heart taking away my very breath. One thing is for sure, I'll never tell this person that this was about them. It would be too difficult to explain away and it would be highly awkward if they didn't understand. Guess I'll just have to deny it to everyone... except for this post.

Despondently Disquieted

Having found myself mired in some rather awkward and unwanted thought processes of late, I've determined that I am despondently disquieted. Peculiar mixture. I don't like it one bit. Perhaps it has been somewhat magnified by the fact that I'm sick, but knowing the possible source does not, in any way, make it more tolerable.

I have nothing to say; nothing to offer. Not even to those I consider most dear. When we talk, I try to maintain an even keel if we are face to face. If it's over the phone or in an email, I do my best to hide it, talking through clenched jaws or tears has become commonplace. There is no way I want anyone to see this part of me; I don't have a way to explain it. Avoidance has been becoming a bit of paradise, although it still isn't perfect; after all, I'm still stuck with this flurry of thought and feeling only now it has nowhere to go.

There were a few people I was in the midst of emailing and I just dropped tha ball totally. Same as with some friends of mine locally; just dropped out of the picture one day as if I'd flipped a switch. It's almost like I feel I need to leave a distance because I fear the worst, based on my behavior. Maybe me writing this is my vague way of apologizing to the world for being such a shit at this point in time and not even knowing why. I think it's also a way to brace myself for the certain fact that people won't put up with it forever. It's unfair to ask that, or expect that, of them.

And with that... here are a few words:

Well you would've left me anyway
So I'll just bow my head
I swear you might've left me anyway
So I'll leave you instead

Be alone
Let me bow my head
Cause I'd rather be alone (Big Wreck: Under the Lighthouse)

Funny thing is that I've lived my life along those lines for so very many years. So many that I can't remember not doing it... Taking the pain of ending things yourself out of a need for control. It still hurts, you just pick the time and place. Then you spend your days wondering if you were right. Either way it becomes a mechanism of torture. You can hear that in the song (which you should try to find and listen to). When I need to feel sort of bad and self-abusive (like now, for instance), this is a perfect song to just belt out at the top of your lungs. It typically helps me free those feelings. Currently I'm wallowing in it and have no idea why it won't break. I just feel like there is nothing real, true, or right anywhere inside of me. Even though I'm often more 'real' than most are comfortable with, it's almost as if I can see it exiting my body like wisps of smoke and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.

For the people I am close to (and even some general situations), I feel like I'm doing a favor by bowing out as gracefully as I possibly can before it gets really ugly. Grasping for faint tendrils of fading smoke is not only getting old, but it's ineffective AND making me melancholy, which in turn pisses me off.

So here I sit wondering why in the hell I just went on like this. Not for your entertainment. Because I need an answer before I self destruct. We all have our demons - mine are just trying to lure me out of this with free drinks and letting me get in some good target practice of sorts. I need that fucking answer.

All this being said, I may be back in a day or two with a cheerful happy-go-lucky post. You never know.

We won't say a thing

while you give your life away...

Sunday morning I sort of woke up around four-ish and other than the fact that it was way too early, I could sense that something was in the midst of happening, even in my groggy sleep-deprived state. Unfortunately I must've been on a delay timer of sorts. I reached for my cell, garbled a barely coherent message in the direction of my mother's cell, shut the phone off, and attempted to regain my place in the hands of sleep...

Approximately eight seconds later I was crying and thinking of something that I had, only moments earlier, not realized was so close to the surface. I miss my city but what if she doesn't miss me? What if we've forgotten all the subtle nuances of the other? I'm not sure whether to say in spite of or due to better judgement, within a week or so I'll be back for a visit. My call to my mother was asking her to drive with me. I don't trust myself there alone, that's why I haven't been back in a couple of years. But my city, she's in my blood; and it was for the loss of her that I cried. I think they were tears acknowledging time that slipped away and a love that didn't.

1 Skyline, Pittsburgh, PA

2 View exiting Fort Pitt tunnel

3 PPG Place (Pittsburgh Paint & Glass)

4 View from West End Overlook

5 DL Convention Center

6 View of Point Park from the incline (used daily by commuters)

7 Built on hills means immense stairs

8 Cathedral of Learning - Pitt

9 Andrew Carnegie Library

10 Carnegie Art Museum - Statue hall

11 Phipps Conservatory

12 Benedum Center for the Arts

13 Station Square; shopping area

14 Station Square; originally a train station

15 Warhol Museum

16 Church 'restoration'; I was sick to see what they did...

17 Clayton/Frick Mansion

18 Mexican War Streets, Northside

19 Lionhead Apartment Building, Shadyside

20 Quaint house, quaint street

21 Old homes with stained and leaded glass; perfect

22 Home of Heinz! Pickles, ketchup and senators...

It's true, I'm afraid she's forgotten me. And when I go, it will be painful to realize that I've lost such a large and important part of my life. I never meant to forget, but I suppose it happens over time. I always want to return, but I'm not sure I could ever really go back. That is what I want to do after all, isn't it? Go back to a better place in time? All that may remain is an endless pull yet no actual way to ease the ache of 'what could have been'...

If anyone has really ready this far, you can visit the links to get info on anything that may have caught your eye.

What Code was that?

I have nothing to say. Yes, it's true. I'm somewhat tapped out...

Over the past two days I've been 'shrunk', almost driven over by big-bubba-jackass in his monster truck, single-handedly hauled numerous huge limbs that were snapped off our massive trees during a wind storm, gone to the grocery store (most vile of all activities), fought with tech support for a total of approximately 6 hours (after all was said and done, I WAS right), finished painting and still have the paint in my hair to prove it (still searching for the red hair embedded in the paint job), drove 40 minutes to fill up 13 gallons of spring water (yes, I have running water - I just prefer it right from the source of the spring. LiVEwiRe does not 'do' tap water.), screamed like a sissy when I moved to dry my hands as there was an arachnid right on my towel (now I'm getting paranoid) and now, for the grand finale...

I'm getting sick. Damn it. I've been fighting off a sinus infection for about a month now and I think it is finally winning. Germs, I'll tell ya'. Home almost a week and now, on the day I return to work I'm getting sick. There is only one good thing about this... and please try to see this from my semi-warped perspective. When I get a sinus infection it is not the kind that you happily go about functioning with, it's the knock-you-on-your-ass variety that will kick you when you're down. And it turns into bronchitis like, 90-95% of the time. Honestly, I think I've only ever had maybe 4 'colds' in my life; they all morph into this shit. Ok, so what could this one good thing possibly be? Heh... that would be Dr. Y S, our pulmonologist from Nigeria. Let me explain further, other than the fact that he is one of the warmest and friendliest doctors, you can actually read his writing and it is so phenomenally stylish, as is he, come to think of it. I was 12 when I was introduced to that accent and have always found it so appealing. When I go on rounds and Dr. Y S is on the floor, I always make it a point to linger a moment longer just to hear him. No, I'm not a stalker, it's just that his accent triggers something in my mind from years ago and it is a pleasant thing. Bittersweet, yet pleasant. So here's my plan. If I get sick enough and end up with bronchitis (perhaps I'll take a shower, go to bed wet, with the windows open tonight...), then I can all of a sudden show signs of respiratory distress, of course in his presence, and get dizzy (not a problem with a sinus infection and vertigo concurrently), and struggle for air (subtly, yet effectively) while weakly reaching for a chair to stabilize myself on... all right beside him of course. That way I could at least get to hear him talking with that rich, magnificent Nigerian accent. Not just talking, but talking to me...

Or I could just reach over, grab a phone and call a Code Blue. Hey, whatever it takes for me to get my international fix.
~

This was not my plan...

Warning: PC errors and PMS - weird combo

My brain hurts, I've been battling with my computer and my ISP and tech support for a couple of days now and although I have solved one problem, the solving of that problem has apparently spawned a new weirdo problem. I might have to face the fact that this is all the work of PC trolls. Short little bastards. Who knows how long it'll take to remedy the situation. Hopefully, soon.

This has been on my mind today...

I happen to have a friend that means quite alot to me. We've known each other less than a year yet they have managed to secure a place in my heart just by being so uniquely 'them'. This person has literally laughed with me (or is that AT me...), and has been there while I cried from the depths of my soul sharing things no one else knows of. But more than anything, we spend more time being a little silly and truly finding interest in what the other has to say. I consider myself fortunate to have encountered a friend such as this. Sometimes people say 'oh, I wish there were more like you', but really - I don't. This makes me appreciate them more for their singular ways; ways I don't think I could ever take for granted. The other day I found something while online that I wanted to get for them. It's just something small, but I know that it will be appreciated. I'm excited to send it off but part of me feels like it isn't enough; like it doesn't do justice to the appreciation I have for them. I can say that I think I've made it clear as time has gone by; clear that I do value them. To my way of thinking, being able to say that to another person overrides anything in a little package. Yet I still wish I could do more; how do you thank someone for just 'being'?

Then there's this other friend. Now this one I've known for maybe a little over six months. Although in a different way, this friend has also claimed a part of my heart. If you look closely there is a little explorer's flag on top. I still recall what intrigued me about this person initially. Since then I have had the pleasure of getting to know them in so very many ways; ways that perhaps I'd never thought of before. Ever meet someone that is just so 'right'? Just a blend of all the things you admire and a few that no matter how hard you try you just don't 'get'? It all seems to make for such a rich blend that you want to surround yourself with it; to close your eyes and lean back, letting it envelop you. And then what do you do when someone so special begins to feel like they are getting passed by, sort of losing perspective of who they are. For me, that happens all the time - for them it's different. They know how I feel about them and if I could take any of what they are feeling away and replace it with the love and generosity that they've shown to others, perhaps it would make a difference. But I can't, sadly, I don't have the power. The only thing I can do is hope that they believe me when I say how deeply I care and that I wouldn't trade them for anything. They are one of very few people who have actually given me some faith in others and I'll be here for them; letting them down is not an option.

Hmmm... not sure where that all came from. Wasn't planning on writing that. But it's honest so I refuse to remove it. Those are two very special people to me. Special to the point of, if anything ever happened to me I'd want them to know. I can't say what kind of an impact I've made on either of their lives, or anyone else's for that matter, but I can make sure that they know how much a part of me that they've become.

A week-long pain in my ass

And to make things worse, it's been escalating daily. Until today when I spent way too many hours with tech support. Supporting what, I wonder?! Not my PC functions, not me, certainly not my boobs.

According to all these highly supportive people I've been speaking with, I have nothing wrong since they can't find a source. GAH!

Just to show I'm being a good sport (ahem) about this, have a little laugh at the latest '404' error message. I'll kick my computer and make death threats to tech support once you are involved in this...

And... while you're at it, check out the updated Trews website in the side bar. I love them. Someone, please watch a video and tell me about it as my QuickTime isn't working either...lol. What a mess. But really, go look.

Blogging about... Blogging

Found this little interesting thinger-bob over at my favorite rowhouse and thought I'd take a shot at it.

1. Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog? Yeah, riiight.

2. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered? Nope; hasn't really been that important to me.

3. Do you like it when creeps or dorks email you? Not particularly. I can be a pretty big creep myself and could most likely tell them to fuck off rather nicely. Those that do not fall into that category are welcome to email me.

4. Do you lie in your blog? About what?! I have an awful memory - not the type at all that supports lies.

5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog? Perhaps. Sometimes I am just plain aggressive. Occasionally I'll be a bit passive but with all of these things, it just happens, it's nothing I strive for.

6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop? No, if I say I might stop writing, it's what I'm feeling. If people would tell me to 'continue', I'd sob and feel guilty for leading people on my goofy ride and delete the blog faster. So by 'threatening' that, it would have the opposite effect. I'm just weird sometimes.

7. Are you in therapy? If not, should you be? If so, is it helping? Not there now, have been for years in the past. Good stuff. I do have a full on disco psychiatrist, though. Does blogging count as therapy?

8. Do you delete mean comments? Do you fake nice ones? I've only ever deleted spam. I'm not beneath arguing with an ass in the comment section, though. Never faked a nice one. That would mean I'd have to take actual effort.

9. Have you ever rubbed one out while reading a blog? How about after? Ew. And I have no penis. There are a few posts I read that may have fogged up my monitor a little...

10. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less? I don't know, it all depends on who it is and who I am that day. Doubt there would be much middle ground, though.

11. Do you have a job? Yeah, barely. My real calling is annoying others.

12. If someone offered you a decent salary to blog full-time without restrictions, would you do it? Get paid? Sure, why not. As long as I didn't have to write a 'Dubya Rocks' post or something equally offensive. Suppose I'd really have to learn how to type properly then.

13. Which blogger do you want to meet in real life? It's not limited to one. Each one has a different attraction, something that pulls me to them. But sometimes it's better like this. We all have the ideal image of one another and I'm not sure I'd want to test my accuracy in matching them in person to the kind of person I've made them out to be in my mind. That being said, there are a few. I'm certain you know who you are.

14. Which bloggers have you made out with? My monitor.... what a dumb ass question!

15. Do you usually act like you have more money or less money than you really have? Doesn't matter, I spend accordingly. I don't 'act' like anything, especially with finances.

16. Does your family read your blog? Does my family read, period?

17. How old is your blog? Eight months old... still a baby. I started at the end of January 2005 and have since noticed that must have been a popular time for new blogs.

18. Do you get more than 1000 page views per day? Do you care? Do you see CNN on the header?! No, I do not get that many views. I didn't even put up a counter for the first six to eight weeks. If I didn't have anyone visit, I'll be honest, I'd cry like a sissy. But people do visit, and make comments and there are some that I talk to even outside of blogland. I never dreamed I'd have my counter where it is even today.

19. Do you have another secret blog in which you write about being depressed, slutty, or a liar? Nope, it's all here. I told you, my memory is shitty - I'd get the blogs confused and incriminate myself anyway, so what's the point?

20. Have you ever given another blogger money for his/her writing? What in the hell would I want to do that for?!

21. Do you report the money you earn from your blog on your taxes? I earn nothing from this other than interest (not the monetary kind), enjoyment, fun and occasional enlightenment.

22. Is blogging narcissistic? Yes, for some. It depends on why you blog. I blog because no one else in my world will listen to me. They are sick of my weirdness and mood swings. I figured I could still say what I have to say in blogland and not have to worry one damned bit if it bothered anyone. It's different for everyone.

23. Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time? Not so much guilty but I feel edgy because I begin to worry if I've slid so far down that I don't have anything left to say.

24. Do you like John Mayer? Yeah, I do. Don't listen to him often but I like his acoustic and jazz influences. Kind of funny because I'm not much of a jazz fan. Typically I like moodier, edgier stuff.

25. Do you have enemies? Dumb. Question. "Hi, my name is ____ and I'm your new enemy!" I'm guessing if I do they are letting it be a surprise til the moment of attack. I had one a few years back but I think it all died down. Either that or she is still plotting my death.

26. Are you lonely? Sometimes. But I do like to be alone. I think that lately I'm admitting to myself that I am a little lonely but I've spent so many years of my life embracing the 'alone' thing that I don't know how to change it.

27. Why bother? Because I can.

TAGGING: I won't single you out, but if you like it, do it! It would be fun to see your blogging views.

I'll be your number one with a bullet...

... a loaded God complex, cock it and pull it!

[And aim it directly at pop culture.]

Point is I have a few bullets that need to fly today and although some of these things will be 'gotten' by some people, other items will just draw a blank stare, the sound of crickets and eventual hushed mutterings from the crowd. Yeah, uh, note the look of concern on my face. I'm almost shaking in fear that you'll never like me again. Pfft. Riiight.

• I hate Quentin Tarantino. Shall I say it again just to taunt you into disbelief? Lalalala... I hate Quentin (skipping in circles). Pulp Fiction was an utter waste of two hours of my life, with exception of a few lines. I also think Kill Bill blows. Again, barring a few details. I do not like his vision or whatever you want to call it. He also has a look about him - like perhaps he's missing a chromosome or something. I think I feel that way because he's just been touted as this master and I disagree. I am often mocked for my view on this. On really harsh days, people throw small stones at me as well.
• I do not now, nor have I ever seen one pretty thing about Paris Hilton. If I were up the family chain of command I'd falsify records showing that she was one of those unfortunate crack babies and they simply adopted her as an infant. Truth be told, we have all seen her crack on more than one occasion. The look on her face never changes. It screams 'I've just been hit in the head with a two-by-four, is that hot?' I am in no way jealous, I just don't get the 'Paris hype'.
• Reality TV is a piece of shit. Collectively. A collective piece of shit, if you will. I've seen so very little of it and someone made that comment that Survivor was in it's, like, skabillionth season or something. What in the hell is wrong with you people? Take two brain cells, rub them together and you just may get a spark. Go read a fucking book for Christ's sake! I limit my reality TV to making fun of the American Idol 'hopefuls' in the first few audition episodes. I laugh at them and Simon's response til I have tears in my eyes. It automatically makes me feel better about myself not being so delusional. That being said, man these people have hella balls!
• Although a fan of beer, Microbrews are often nasty and I don't even pretend to like them. I've been in a brewery and actually asked the bartender for a 'regular' beer. He explained all the lovely brews they had and I said something along the lines of "Thanks for the time, but I want one that isn't bitter and doesn't suck." Yeah, that goes over well in a brewery. I refuse to give in just to do what the cool kids do. The cool kids can bite my ass while they are down there kissing everyone else's.
• Speaking of kids. I do not find drooly, sticky little children adorable. I find it gross and I want to gag. Don't expect me to see the same 'little angel' as you do. I see slobber, dirt, germs, noise and irritation. Yes, if I have kids (sign them up for therapy now) I may see things differently. Until then...
• Never thought Seinfeld was funny. I mean Jerry Seinfeld. Elaine and Kramer were amusing, but Seinfeld was a dud. I assume he still is. I think I pretended to like it for exactly two episodes. My roomies and I had friends over to watch said 'new' show. Week number three had me staying in my room. I have a co-worker that to this day (after 2.5 years) will still refer to Seinfeld episodes and compare our current circumstances. I walk away. He's a dolt when it comes to that. And a damn slow learner.
• I like Disco; I like Funk. Don't even try to fuck with me on this one. And I'll have you know that my current psychiatrist has various BeeGees memorabilia around his office, including a mint condition Stayin' Alive album. He even has pictures of him with the brothers Gibb. When he nods his head I'm not sure if he's thinking of my medication or...Oh, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man, no time to talk...

I'm just so tired of hearing "I can't believe you don't/do like______; what's wrong with you?!" I'll certainly still hear that but I just don't care much. Remember the story The Emperor's New Clothes from when you were a child? (Or perhaps last week if you are a slow reader...) Yep - I'm the one pointing saying "Uh, guys - the dude's nude!" Often I don't match with the popular consensus. That bothered me a long time ago but as I got more confident that my views were perfectly fine, albeit different, I made alot of changes and astonishing progress in coming to terms with what makes me tick. Who knows, I might even come up with a few more to add to that.

While you're here, if you haven't had the chance to click on my new profile pic, please do it. View it full size so you can read the caption - it is such an accurate representation of me, like, 80% of the time. And even though it may not seem like it sometimes, I really am nice. Come closer... =)

The Power of Change...Literally

Jane is a bitch, simply put. With an air of hautiness she grates upon your nerves leaving them aching, begging for reprieve. She has no off button; just one steady seek and destroy setting. The behavior is so deeply ingrained that she hardly takes notice and thinks it a confusing joke when others call her a bitch.

So that you better understand what sort of person she is, here is an account of her day thus far. After boarding the elevator in her apartment building she caught sight of a cane tip slipping toward the closing doors. In a refusal to be late, she reached up, pushed the cane out from between the doors effectively toppling her elderly neighbor. She felt that was reasonable; she was a busy woman. Next stop - the subway. Moments after disembarking her harsh shrieking could be heard over the din of rush hour traffic. She was chastising a homeless father and daughter; the child for grabbing at her with grubby paws and the father for allowing his child to mar her $600 shoes. Jane never bothered to notice the child was merely reaching for her worn, flimsy paper doll that Jane was standing on. It accounted for precisely one third of her toy collection. As if that humiliation weren't enough, she grabbed their paper cup of morning charity and removed what she felt was an appropriate amount of coins to cover a snack from the vending machine as this event had delayed her and she would not have time for her daily bagel and latte. Reminding them how inconsiderate they were, she tossed the ravaged cup at their feet and walked off in disgust. Once in the door at work she griped loudly about her horrible morning and was stunned that others didn't share her sense of disdain. Of course, at this point she is absolutely fuming; now begins her special brand of 'pouting'. She handed off half of her work to a junior colleague and went on a bit of a rampage. She hated her chair so she stole someone else's. Her breakfast consisted of stolen candy bars from a co-worker's child's fund-raising box. Margie's phone was newer so she switched it with hers. The mailman left in tears when she told him that he might be nicer looking if it weren't for the fact that he was so fat and bald. Jane truly felt that she had an inherent right to behave this way and saw nothing at all wrong with it...

Ok, you get the idea... So by lunch things seemed to have calmed down a bit. Sarah, who was still perplexed by the disappearance of her chair earlier today, was looking forward to sitting down to her lunch and taking a break. Only her lunch wasn't there. Directly to the left, she sees Jane (who else?) happily munching away on what was her lunch! Sarah was furious but decided to leave before she started a fight over lunch, of all things. She ran to the mall for a bite and was glad she opted to remove herself from the situation because she knew a day would come that she'd take Jane out; she just didn't plan on it being this day. She barely had enough money with her for a simple sandwich, but it was enough.

Upon returning she found Jane and Margie in a heated argument that seemed to have started with the phone switching incident. Sarah was not about to miss this and quietly sidled up to the fight zone along the imaginary ropes. It didn't surprise her when Margie slapped Jane. What did surprise her was the collective gasp and simultaneous metallic clang on the tile at her feet. It was the sound of retribution...

...With that one sound, she knew what no one else there did. Upon leaving the mall, meager amount of remaining change in hand, Sarah had passed a wishing well. Her wish? That someone would finally slap the smile off that bitch's face...
~

I don't think I have to tell you that this is fiction...do I?

Blah - I'm even boring myself

This has been one hell of a blah weekend. Two highlights: I changed the headlight in my mom's car and I sort of invented a new recipe for eggplant parmesan including fried red peppers that I incorporated into it. I fry food about twice a year, so that was a big deal. Uh, yep; that's it. Jealous?

Funny thing is that everything has gone through my mind yet nothing at all. Sometimes in the days following a manic phase I lose any and all personality that I have and fluctuate between bits hedging back on mania, delving into depression or just wallowing in the no personality zone. Man, it sucks. I mean, it's tolerable, don't get me wrong, it just generally sucks. I've spanned a gap that includes rethinking my career (including radical changes) and wanting to kind of sever ties to most of the people in my life. Would I miss them? Would they miss me? Do I care? Also spent quite a bit of time feeling so tired that lapsing into a coma would be the next logical state. All in all I've been on every corner of the map and still feel no connection; no reason to really grab hold anywhere. There are these fabulous creatively driven bouts of motivation serving as a coating for a hearty core of apathy. That is such a strange combination. Man, the human mind is just an amazing thing, don't you think?!

One thing I think I have come to a conclusion on is that I'm going to really attempt to give up trying to figure people out. I typically try to surround myself with like-minded people. No, I don't mean lunatics... I mean ones with a basic, honest, up-front sort of approach. I'm really good at getting roped in to playing games sometimes; I have this deep need to know why people do/say what they do. Well, I think that'll be changing. I'm simply finding myself apologizing for things that, when others do them, in the same situation - I get no apology. I'll worry about me from now on and I suggest you do the same, thank you.

There are times I want to sever all ties and just take off to another part of the world. Any of you ever think of that? Would you really, honestly do it? Well, I would. That thought has appealed to me for almost as long as I can remember. Going somewhere unique, making new friends, having a different life, then simply moving on when the time was right. Always having that to look forward to. I suppose I'm a real dreamer in that sense. Maybe I'm just feeling that it's time to move again now. I'm 35 and have moved 39 times. No, I was not part of a military family or in the witness protection program. It was just how I was raised and I managed to keep that going. Might be strange to some, but for me, it's kind of normal. I'm just craving more. To go further, be more drastic, to have more change. Maybe someday the idea of being somewhere for a long while will appeal to me. I don't find it appalling but perhaps I just haven't found the right place yet.

On a more exciting note, I have two books ordered from the library - Pollen and City of Saints and Madmen. I managed to have a lapse with reading and I'm very excited to have these books on their way to me. I can always tell when things are amiss in my life; I wake up one day and realize that I've not been reading or listening to music. This is a good thing because now I feel like it's all getting back in order. Funny how little things can signify such important changes.

Yes, I realize I haven't said much of anything but took up a whole hell of alot of space in the process. So what, I think that part of me still believes that I have the answer to it all locked inside me and it might one day flow out with these words. I'm too stubborn to stop trying so I guess I'm taking you all on the ride with me! =)

There are seven and there are nine!

So yes, it's things like that which bug the hell out of me. Everything is in sevens, yet there are nine categories. I've lost sleep over less.

Anyway, I was hopping about blogland and found this in Luke's possession. Neither of us will tag people but I freely stole this from her. Please consider this an invitation to do the same.

>If you are having a problem viewing this, try Terri's suggestion (thanks Terri!) in the comments or you can try opening it in IE if you are using a different browser. I was talking with someone earlier who couldn't see it using Firefox but had no problems with Explorer. Sorry about the techincal difficulties.<

Seven...

things that scare me

1 Ventriloquist dummies - cannot even look at them

2 Most dolls (but not the Barbie kind, the kind with the fluttery eyelids - you know, the ones capable of turning their head to stare at you sans assistance...)

3 Spiders - especially ones that touch me (or look at me, or are remotely near me, or...well, any of them really...)

4 Finally succeeding in pushing everyone away

5 Driving through water - even a few inches; if it covers the entire surface of the road I'm a mess; I've had people talk me out of a related panic attack

6 Having my actions hurt those I care for the most/Failing someone who needs me

7 Clowns - henchmen of the devil I tell you

things that I like most (not in order of importance)
1 The ability to read, not just the books themselves
2 Music (well, except really annoying shit)
3 My freedom (in just about everything I do)
4 My cats - yes, even monstrous Benny
5 Learning
6 Creativity
7 Traveling the world from this very chair via blogland and the www
~ This one was tough, I really had to think because I've been in such a strange frame of mind (oh, these last 4 years or so ...) that I simply like nothing. Well, I do, but briefly.

important things in my room
1 Photos of memories/people/places that shall never be again
2 Cds
3 Alarm clock - without which, I would sleep away the dreary mind time and ignore the world
4 Well, clothes and socks and bras and such (This is not a fashion minded statement but a 'let's avoid public nudity' statement)
5 Perhaps my good cat (Isabella) - have no idea where she is now
~ I just don't know, not much there I suppose. I'll add two elsewhere so it evens out. =)

random facts about me

1 I am an only child

2 My real name (first and last) sounds like it would belong to a stripper

3 I want another tattoo but feel guilty because then I can't donate blood for a year

4 Patience is something I seriously lack

5 There's not a whole lot I care about but what I DO care about, I do with a passion

6 Often I act first and think later - I've been known to help complete strangers in ways that could end up causing financial, emotional or bodily harm to myself

7 I have portions of my life entirely blocked out of my brain

~ Add on from above: Variety of previous jobs: Made topographical maps at an arial photography company, background check investigator, veterinary technician (including blood draws, assisting in surgery, and XRays), loan assistant, golf course bartender, gift wrapper, freelance artist, party decorator

things I plan to do before I die
1 Uh, live - preferrably for a while yet
2 If finances cooperate, travel all over the damned place
3 Be able to tell someone I love them, not because I feel I should say it but simply because I do
4 Maybe, possibly, perhaps learn to trust. Kind of. Sorta.
5 Bungee jump (should be fun with the vertigo)
6 Learn how to not be so hard on myself and maybe others (not the stupid ones though, they'll still receive my full wrath)
7 Fly in a Cessna
~ Add on from above: Every fun thing that comes to mind

things I can do
1 Make people laugh

2 Create art

3 Cook some pretty tasty food without recipes, with recipes, I totally suck

4 Go to/watch a hockey game and actually know what's going on; love hockey

5 Speak in public or make a spectacle of my self and not care one damn bit

6 Maintain my finances, no matter how meager

7 Express my feelings (Usually, and if I want to)

things I can't do
1 Stand on one foot/look up outside without holding on - I have vertigo
2 Speak another language (Other than blogger word verification)
3 Tolerate being lied to
4 Swim - unless swimming like a rock counts
5 Type without cheating at some point
6 Keep my mouth shut when I should
7 Balance my checkbook - never have

things I say the most
1 Fuck - (What the fuck? Fuck off. Fucking idiots! This place is a clusterfuck! Fuckers. (Perhaps my favorite one-word sentence.) You get the idea.
2 Shut up (This is a close tie for first place)
3 No
4 Ass (variations - asshole, asshair, assfuck - all directed at a stupid person)
5 I forgot
6 Really? (linked to my forgetfulness that brought on 5)
7 MmHmm - typically mumbled mindlessly to some fool who sadly thinks I'm actually paying attention to them (and agreeing, no less)

~ Wow - I'm really a ray of sunshine, aren't I...

celebrity crushes

1 Johnny Depp (Mainly his roles as Edward Scissorhands, Captain Jack Sparrow, Willy Wonka, oh, and the character from Once Upon a Time in Mexico, but I forget the name... you know, all the ones where he is really, exceptionally odd...)

2 Jeff Corwin (Yes, that Jeff Corwin)

3 Adrian Paul (Originating in the Highlander series)

4 Jerry O'Connell (I like him more on the nerdy side)

5 Robert Smith (The sound of him...)

6 Kevin Spacey (Sexy in an understated kind of way)

7 Michael Ian Black (He makes me laugh!)

~

So there you have it. A little bit more about what makes me tick. Have fun, tag yourselves - I promise it won't make your palms hairy. =)

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

Pulls soapbox over to center stage and purposefully stands atop...

I just have to write about this, dumb as it may be... I can't ignore it anymore.

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! I have declared it completely and utterly illegal to wear your pants slung so low that I can see the crack of Dawn from a front view. Well, if your name is Dawn... otherwise fill in the blank with your own name.

I know for a fact that my ideas are not as antiquated as those of the Town Crier and the other individuals in the above picture yet I sort of feel that way. I am so sick of seeing both men and women wearing these pants. Low rise is one thing and although not flattering often times, not a problem. Super low rise is awkward. The Super-Duper-Ultra-Minimum-low rise that barely has enough fabric in the front for a puny button to cling on to let alone a zipper longer than the attached tab is going a bit too far. Too far south, actually. I do not care to see that much skin on anyone. I am not interested in seeing your pubic hair or the location where your pubic hair once was. Well, unless I'm dating you... then that's obviously a different story. I've seen women in these pants. I've seen men in these pants. Both very awkward.

When I sense this situation approaching me swathed in it's minimal fabric I tend to want to look away. Unfortunately it's like a magnet... this visual just draws my eyes over. Then I feel like I need to rinse my eyes with bleach. It's just gross. I feel like I've invaded your privacy yet that's exactly what you wanted. Don't get me wrong... everyone has a certain part of them that is a bit of an exhibitionist; I know I do. But that is the thing, most people don't force it on everyone else publicly. Or should I say pubicly? Well, I suppose maybe they do. I think I've been guilty of wearing shirts that uh, accentuate a certain part of my body but that is something that has gone on for years and years. I mean culturally, as a whole - not just me. No one even thinks twice anymore. Honestly, I don't have the body to wear this pants style but that has nothing to do with it because I'm not jealous in any way. Sensing that someone's short curlies are the only thing holding up their pants is a bit unsettling. Is it just me? Am I the only one that feels compelled to glance at this (and not in an admiring way)?

I'm not amish or a total prude. I guarantee that I have done things that would make many of you blush. On the flip side, there are things that many find acceptable that I shy away from. Call it my weird blend of what makes me, well, 'me', but I feel visually accosted when I see this. Optically assaulted if you will. They might as well walk up to me, straddle me and shove it in my face. I hope none of you wear these tacky items but if you do just know that this is directed at you and I will continue to make fun of you at every turn.

And if I see you on the street, I just might give a little tug at your belt loop and watch you scramble to pull them back up from your ankles.

Climbs off of soapbox, carefully tucking it aside for next time...

Is it art...

...or neurotransmitters run amok captured in a pen and ink illustration?

Just to show you that good things can come of a manic phase. Things that at first glance you may never expect. This will be quick but scroll down for an explanation of the art.

Pen and ink illustration. Total completion time: 22 hours over a period of several days. This was a one shot deal, done directly on the board.

Close up view shows that the illustration is comprised entirely of dots (pointilism/stippling). No shading, solids or an actual line on it anywhere. Just pressed board, ink and a Rapidograph pen.

If I hadn't been manic at the time, I never would have created this piece. I'd sit for hours at a time bent over, forgetting to eat, or go to bed or pee. Completing this became my obsession and I had some serious focus to pull this off in the half assed way that I did.

Peculiar how such a calm, organic and flowing image was actually born of mania. It does have it's own potential for beauty.

That being said, I hope it's gone soon! =) Have a great weekend!

Wicked with Whipping Cream

I'm hoping this post will put an end to my griping on this topic - at least for this episode. Go with it.

So I'm trying to keep this manic episode under control. Now that I realize it for what it is, I try to keep myself on a short leash. Granted, it may be a visciously studded leather one, but it fits the mood.


Here's the thing, after all these years you think maybe I'd recognize it sooner. I don't. In my mind I rationalize it by saying I was just busy, or motivated, or stopped being lazy. Riiiight.

Here's a few things I did that I tried to rationalize:

• Painted a drop-border in the living room. But I saw some molding that needed fixed (that I'd never noticed before yet I'm certain this was nothing new) and brought out the caulking. Then decided that I should spackle the top and bottom the entire way around the room because there was enough room to slide a piece of paper in - this really bothered me. No tools needed. At least not in my world. Just my fingers and a jar of spackling compound. Due to my new obsession with the repair, I made it look fantastic. Then I painted the molding and border with three coats of paint.
• Performed some basic car repair and pampering. I bought whatever additives I needed and poured it in every hole possible. Didn't even break a nail.
• Found a spider in my bedroom {shudder} and failed at trying to get it outside. Spent the next hour and a half actually searching for the multi-appendaged bastard because I wanted it gone. This happened at about 12:30am. Eventually I gave up and slept on the couch.
• Rolled just about every coin in this house. Came up with over $35, too. That should tell you how focused I was on that little task. Should have taken way longer but when you seem to be doing shots of jet fuel it's quick, quick, quick!
• Felt the need to purge my linen closet and bathroom of all products that may be expired. This included examining things like hairspray and hand lotion for expiration dates. I didn't even know how I ended up with some of the stuff; that's how long it had been there. But at that moment, it was my new crusade. Must do it. Now. Fast. Complete.
• List have been made to outline and organize my lists. Look folks, I suck at organization and spend most of my life just flying by the seat of my pants. It's just not me to have a list, then four auxiliary lists defining it. Besides, I lose them. Then I spend an hour trying to find them.
• At work I have made all the bins of vials full and even and the labels are facing out (kinda like that movie Sleeping with the Enemy). I have argued with my boss. I don't mean disagree, I mean argue. He yelled, I yelled louder. He said he'd talk to me when I didn't have an attitude or we could have this discussion in Human Resources. I told him I wasn't about to calm down so we'd better be on our way then. We never did go but he hasn't talked to me in two days. Short little fucker. He told me that the point I was addressing was something he didn't want to handle. I told him that was really too bad because it was his job! Yeah, he didn't like that either. I was standing in his office doorway and never bothered to close the door. The rest of the pharmacy heard this exchange but everyone was afraid to bring it up. Usually they can't get in your business fast enough. Just couldn't seem to find my 'now would be a good time to shut up' button. He deserved my wrath but most don't and get it anyway.

So all this is going on, plus the fact that I am sleeping less than usual (which always happens in a phase) and I wake up with severe jaw pain due to clenching/grinding at night. One day I'll get smart and put coal in there; I bet you I wake up with diamonds. So this is going on and whirling around me and I just don't seem to catch on. I swear, I'm the last to know. But now that I know I try to reel myself in. Don't always succeed but I try. And I have to get up in five hours (perhaps I should try sleeping before I try to get up...) to move furniture and have new carpet put in the living room. Then I get to put it all back. Surely I'll be convinced that I have superhuman strength and try to do it in record time. It's no wonder why when I come down and crash, I crash hard. I feel like a puppy that has exhausted itself chasing it's tail. Well, ok, a really mean, nasty, attack puppy. I might appear cute and fuzzy but just don't do anything to set me off. Unfortunately I don't even know what that is until it happens; hence the short leash. Come to think of it, this might be a good look for me.

Interestingly, someone told me today that I am sexy when I'm edgy. Hmmm, maybe they just haven't experienced a full manic phase in person. Or maybe I am sexy when I'm edgy... how should I know; I don't trust me a whole lot right now. =)

You can tell them I'm coming...

...and Hell's coming with me. (Matthew Good)

Ah, yes folks... we are entering another round of BiPolar-Fest 2005. How fucking fabulous. Once again I am left to feel infallible and vulnerable at the same time. Able to turn into demon bitch with words spewing from my mouth that would make Linda Blair (Exorcist) blush a deep crimson and take notes, then feel the crush of what I've done and be brought to tears. This is exhausting in so many ways but worse is the look I see on the faces of others when this strikes, when I lash out at them.

I'm not looking for sympathy or understanding or even a 'fuck off'. I just had to acknowledge this in some sort of way for myself. If I say it or write it, it becomes more real. Something I can no longer just tuck away in a dusty corner of my mind and make excuses for or try to rationalize away.

I've been hating everyone lately - that should have been my first clue that this mixed (yet basically manic) phase was upon me. I try so damned hard to keep it under control, and just when I think I do, it jumps out to bite me in the ass. Hard. Then I come out swingin'.

Ok, that's all about that. I just laid into someone today that didn't deserve it and feel really guilty about it. Yes, I've apologized but the words have been spoken, the actions taken. I heard the tremble in her voice and saw the shine in her eyes. Although my heart literally aches due to my actions, I couldn't keep a grasp on my behavior. I am disgusted with myself.

But... On a silly note, I suppose even demonic bloggers (read: me) have to laugh. This is what gave me a chuckle after my apocolyptic performance had left me drained.
This is the Travelocity Roaming Gnome... he even has his own online store. You can watch one of his silly commercials here. I love him. He also has radio spots that are a hoot. Just like he claims of jellyfish in one of his radio commercials, he is 'perfectly kissable'.

You've got such a pretty smile...

It's a shame the things you hide behind it... [Jude]


The girl sat alone at the table; close enough that her elbows gained stability from the thick glass top yet far enough to keep her legs free from inadvertently kicking the base of it. Head tilted forward, hands clamped over her ears, the tears flowed in hot saline trails, ultimately coming to rest in asymmetrical pools of moist, shimmering light on the surface below. In that moment, there was less fear, more disbelief. Either way she knew this was all her doing. Hers were the only shoulders this surreal burden would come to rest upon.

When the reason for this morphing new reality became clear, she knew she was the only one to blame. Recollection reminded that she was always one to feel alot and often rather intensely. Occasionally that build up required an outlet of sorts and resulted in conversations with others that would, with a little luck, temporarily ease her internal conflict, if even for a moment. But the day eventually came when she simply couldn't do it any longer - this sharing of herself, admitting her deepest, most fragile feelings - this sense of burdening others. A vow was made: no more.

From that moment on she'd kept it all in. Until now.

When she sat down to balance her checkbook, as always, she found her mind wandering. It wasn't painful, really; just a peculiar, slithery sensation that caused her to brush absently at her ear. When the slight movement caught her eye she could not quite make sense of what she was actually seeing. Letters. Everywhere. Piling and tumbling as if the typeset tray from an old printing press had capsized; on the table, her lap, the floor...

Immediate shock gave way to curiosity and she saw it wasn't just letters; there were words, followed by sentences. She knew them. Intimately. These were the words she vowed to hold in endlessly. With that thought the literary flood gates opened and the words stacked high, partially occluding her view. Windows cracked, doors bulged and she had no idea how or when this would end. Her hands went instinctively to her ears to stop this uninvited deluge but that only rerouted them through her nose.

Her head shook side to side in denial with that realization but the motion only caused the words to slip in her tears and collide with one another with soft thuds and audible crunches. Now she knew why she never balanced her checkbook.
~