Uh, got milk?

No time to encapsulate, no desire to rehash. Things are wrong all over the place. There are new meds. I hate everything. This weekend I should be able to check in. Until then, I'll leave you with this... a glimpse of the first few moments of a little furry life.

Don't let mom's tongue up the nose trick fool you, she was quietly and steadily lowing the moment she saw us... talk about the evil eye!






We simply came around the corner to check out the cows (I always do at my uncle's) and came face to face (ok, maybe about 20 feet) with a birth that had to have occurred merely a handful of minutes before. I'll spare you to gorey details on how I know that.





Anyway, the open area by the wooden fence was flimsy wire. Although certainly with an electric current, I am not stupid enough to think I could outrun this behemoth, nor am I enough of an idiot to think that said electric fence would deter this mom from protecting her baby.



I'm afraid to call back and ask if this tiny bovine made it. Nature is cruel and I suck at being hopeful. I am still secretly hoping everything is fine in Mooville.

4.6 update: She's doing just fine... ;)

Walk outside, get in the car, stare at the wheel then fall apart

Barring the relentless piles of snow here and there that refuse to succumb to the warming temps, most of it has melted. The lake has almost completely thawed. That is always a high point for me. It takes on a peculiar landscape in the winter when it freezes, partially thaws, then reforms and freezes once again. It's like mini-tectonic plates shifting but their days are numbered. I need to see the water.

In light of the fact that it is March, the buzzards have returned as they do every year on the Ides of March. Apparently they are on holiday up on the lake here for a few days but I enjoy them. Mostly. I keep thinking they are in my line of sight to remind me that they're here to clean up what is left of my life. To dispose of the carcass in an ecologically sound manner, if you will. And I can't argue with them, they've come all this way. They must know something I don't. But I'm catching on.

This mixed episode is still kicking my ass but I have an appointment with my psychiatrist on Saturday, the good disco doc. This is the last chance I've giving him then I find a new doc. For crissake, I told him I was ready to drive off (or into) a bridge and options I'd given myself and he doesn't seem to take it seriously. Interestingly I can't even drink to change the mental vibe anymore. At least not right now. A part of me erroneously believes I'll 'learn' something from this episode so I need to have all senses keen. First, these are chemicals in my brain going haywire so there is nothing to learn, what happens to me isn't a conscious decision to learn from, I'm a bystander. Second, keen, reliable senses during an episode? Puh-lease. Maybe not imbibing is just a bit of restraint as I really have moments when I act on impulse and who is to say that I wouldn't really do something stupid? As if my current involvement with my life is anything to be proud of. Hell, I can't even be a good drunk! In a way it's like having the safety on a gun yet the abundance of explosives goes unnoticed.

There is an event I want to attend in Canada this June. Of course my mother is coming with me. She doesn't give two fucks about what I'm doing but she doesn't trust me to go and come back safely even though I more than likely won't be in any phase at the time. Apparently Canadian bridges are heftier than American ones? I'm 37 and I get a babysitter. Anyway, I've got to order my ticket and make plans this weekend. In some ways, if I have this planned, I know I'll cling to the flimsiest shred of sanity if need be just to attend. It's like life insurance in a way. Given my last post I'll give you three guesses as to what it is.

For now I'm glad that tomorrow is the end of a seven day stretch at work. Not bad at all, I just wish I felt better. I'll be able to snoop around in BlogLand over the weekend, which I'm looking forward to. Anyway, I'm reading a new book on bipolarity and I'll let you know if it's any good. Or if I strangle my disco doc on Saturday. Or the lovely folks at Sprint that have given me three shit-ass replacement phones in the past two weeks. For now, take care and I'll catch up with you all in a few days.

I'm really not dead although the buzzards are trying to convince me otherwise.

Lost in the law of averages

This post will end on a very special note, but first... Today I had a mini breakdown while listening to the song below. No really. I almost pulled my car off the road and called someone. Only I didn't know who so I just sobbed and drove, barely able to see the road. I wanted to not feel; to simply disappear, if only for a second. I cannot even define my own feelings anymore and that is a very, very bad thing. If I cannot define them then I cannot fix them, if I cannot fix them, I have no control, in which case, I'm back at square one.





I'm taking stupid chances again, living my life in a half dream state because I'm trying to separate myself from, well, myself, I suppose. Going about my day I'm here but I'm not. If I let myself feel what I'm feeling, this emotional wreckage with no name, it will be too big for me. What I felt earlier today, it was like fighting an unseen entity which you were certain you'd be consumed by.



Bad wiring makes my reactions utterly inappropriate and hard as I try, I can't seem to remember if you connect the red one before the green one or is it the yellow before the blue? It never seems to be enough. Or right. Or appropriate. And I'm sitting here all by myself trying to deal with it. And I'm failing while trying to appear cognizant and pulled together.

I suppose this is some sort of mixed episode. But knowing what it is doesn't change the fact that it could be devastating. I'm putting everything into not disappearing. Unless it's the other way around. Either way, it is hell.



Ah, you say, the crazy girl... she spoke of the post ending with something on a more special, positive note. Indeed I did. But listen to this song, read the lyrics and I'll be waiting at the end.


Man of Action



Between the night and day
lost in the law of averages
what would you know
unless you'd lived a life of it?

They say the kid sold out,
in love with himself run ragged,
always looked to be a man of action
cause that's what the old man
should have been but
this world it wore him out
this world it wears you out



I dissapeared today
I went under
if only for a second
and I found where the lights drown
if you lie down
you can disappear altogether



I got me a whore head
I got me a day star
I lost me control of myself
and baby I don't want it back
no I don't want to be like that
if this is us in control of ourselves



Between the night and day
and so few eyes left open
your forgiveness ain't a neighborhood
that I'm looking to live in
maybe this world it wore me out
this world it wears you out



I disappeared today
I went under
if only for a second
and I found where the lights drown
if you lie down
you can disappear altogether



I got me a whore head
I got me a day star
I lost me control of myself
and baby I don't want it back
no I don't want to be like that
if this is us in control of ourselves (Matthew Good; Incredible Audio of Being, 2001)

As promised, here I am, in all my bipolar glory; neurotransmitters bouncing off my cranial walls as it would seem. Hmm, I love that song.



So, other than no more fucking snow, what would make me happy? Yes, one thing. Matthew Good. Last night he came to Cleveland. I do believe I'm in love with him. The same way you fall in love with the spring sunshine; it's like that. Better than romantic love. I was center stage second row for 17 amazing songs and some witty banter.

Any words I know just aren't enough.

But then I was speechless. Now that is a rarity.

!

ShouldaCouldaWoulda

But I didn't. And now I never can.

I suppose I could say I was distracted by my adjustment to returning to Ohio. Or that I was battling two new jobs that were each vying to be the end of me in one way or another. Of course, just having had knee surgery less than a month prior would be another plausible reason.

But none of that is good enough. Not one bit of it. The truth of the matter is that it was due to my worsening tendency to separate and break away. Even from the things that matter.

Today I learned that a very close friend of mine passed away. Had I actually made the effort to contact her upon my return, well, then I'd have had the chance to continue being friends with her, even for a while. But I crawled into my anti-social shell.

I've spent quite a while today crying. Although I feel horrible and am shocked and saddened, the tears really aren't for me. The tears are because I wonder if she ever wondered where I went, why I sort of abandoned her? If she ever thought my absence was because of a shortcoming on her part.

I cried because I felt I may have hurt her, let her down. Then because I missed her.


For all that you endured, and the grace with which you did it, I can only believe that you've been granted a second chance. Maybe some time without illness or struggle. A moment to savor the rightness of things. I choose to believe that you know how I feel; a gift of clarity as a parting gift perhaps. SNOO will be permanent for as long as I have any say in the matter. Thank you Sue, for everything. Kiss kiss.
~

Do you feel the way you hate, do you hate the way you feel...

What do you do when you are losing who you are and there is no new you to serve as a replacement? Where is the old you going, anyway? Is it off frolicking on a higher plane or has it retreated, dying off unused?

Is it plausible to think that old part could be reclaimed in order to fill the void and obtain a sense of normalcy again, even if in theory only? Or, once that part of you has gone, does it change shape to ensure that there is no chance of it fitting, even if it could return? What's done is done?

So, now the old you is neither recognizable nor useful. You know what it is, misshapen though it may be. But it all boils down to a twisted memory that sickens you although you can't quite remember why.

And what of the other side? Do you start anew? The old is gone, so what remains? Nothing. So much nothing that you question whether it is potentially invasive or if this black hole was somehow released from your core. Out of those places left vacant by the retired parts of you long gone.

The battle rages on and you fan the flames to hasten the search, the result. A self perpetuating whirlwind has you childishly clinging to the few old parts that have not fled or been cast out. A lesson in futility, isn't that what they say? You are all too aware of that void; the all pervasive presence that is fully the lack thereof.

By now, you should be reconstructing. Molding, morphing, forming new parts. For the soul, for the psyche, for the places in between. But somewhere you were robbed; left with only empty spaces which in and of themselves take up the place where all the new parts of you should have settled.

But now you know it. And you hang your head. The old is gone, the new has been thwarted by literally nothing. Your life has fallen apart while you watched. You find that details are sloughing away but that becomes a way of life, a safety net of sorts.

Always, triggers present. They find you and lay on torment that will wring you with an emotional intensity to rival a clash of titans. Over and over again. There is no hiding.

This is your punishment for not knowing how to put the pieces together.
~

If I promise to be good can winter be over already? Pleeease?!

Like many people in this area, I've managed to make it through two back-to-back winter storms. The first was an ice storm that caused outtages of every utility in direct relation to downed lines. Part two included snow drifts that came half way up the door. My cable, phone and internet were out for five days. Power and heat were out for somewhere around 48 hours, spanning three nights. I'll just say that 48F/8.8C should not be an indoor temperature. Time is limited tonight, I just thought I'd stop in and comment on how sick of winter I am.

Unfortunately I've proven today that once again, I can all too easily be rude and ignore a 'friend' when faced with an expectant look of acknowledgement. It would seem that I am trying, against myself at times, to sever ties with the familiar. If I keep on, I might succeed quite thoroughly in pushing everyone away. I mean really, why is this my reaction and why does it come so easily?

~ post script ~ I wrote some babbling sort of stuff the other day (which I will post) while my internet service was down. For me, that hot pen technique really sets alot free and in connection with today's behavior I am seeing that I am so at odds with myself. I don't know how to make it right. It just doesn't seem like there is even enough time to do so before I die. Even if I live to be 100.

We are the dead ones, we are the lost cause, we are the bend before the break

Who knew that inner sociopath* picture would rise up to take on a life of it's own? I mean really. I have zero filter ability. Zero. If you have a pulse, you will be screamed at although the pulse is not essential. The really scary thing about this is that I don't just yell, the incredibly loud extremely foul language is interspersed with truth. Unfortunately in the heat of it all I lack the ability to maintain full diplomacy and it's all out there. In ya face. Somewhere in there is when the sociopath thing kicks in. I've been told by the very few people that have seen me go off, as in way off, that it's a highly unsettling thing. Sure, I yell and swear, that's to be expected. But it would seem that some sort of change that happens and something about me is downright scary. I eventually made a joke about possession to the one person and they very seriously said, 'Don't joke, there's this look that comes over you and you might not be far off.' When it happens I'm not just flailing words about all girly and hysterical. Oh no. I think it's a look of sheer and unsurpassed contempt paired with the use of intelligent words, not name calling. It's been said that I also glare at people as if I'm contemplating ripping their throat out with my teeth. So part of me is in control, the other, primal.

Now, let me say that I am not posessed by the devil, his cronies, or even a moderately angry spirit. It's me. Just good 'ol me. Sweet me that for years didn't feel her voice counted. Pushing it down for a lifetime only quieted it temporarily; long enough to build up pressure to blow to the heavens when events warrant. And sometimes when they don't. I can't really tell anymore, all I know is that my threshhold has been lowered far enough to stymie the limbo king.

Which leads to this. I lost it with my boss. Seriously, he was wrong and I had done nothing wrong. I mean it... people always say that but it really is true. He's under a vast amount of stress and perhaps that's why he snapped. But he picked the wrong person. In the end, he actually sent me an email apologizing, telling me he felt awful and I could have anything I wanted, etc. That was a big step from a hot-headed guy. I told him I accepted his apology but still held firm to my words. In this instance, we are absolutely fine. But I've gone off on family members, and I can't tell you how many nurses at work. This could prove to be troublesome. I'd like to try to control this but it just jumps out; kind of like a sneeze. Maybe the meds need a boost.

So perhaps my inner sociopath is on the way out. I don't know. To be sure, there is no ego boost or feeling of superiority. Sure, I like saying what's on my mind, but this is out of bounds. If anything, I'm going along day to day just trying to be left alone for now lest I release the beast. My family is telling me I'm hard to be around. I have no idea what happened to exacerbate this behavior, but it's really a pain in the ass. And in the end, I'm afraid I will lose alot more than just my composure if I can't cool down.

*Kitty, thank you for that term. Looking back, that picture might not have been too far away from it all! ;)

Racially tinged post * warning

Why is Barack Obama black? Um, isn't his mother white? So one parent is black, one is white. But he's black. I do not understand.**

I've got a friend that is biracial. She was raised by white, Scottish parents and opts for long braids in her hair. She often refers to herself as black but in many other conversations, she has said she's just as much white. She just 'looks' more black so that's what people expect of her.

Is being biracial like accidentally washing a red sock in with your whites? People are going to notice it so you might as well claim it as what you are, ignoring the rest?

Perhaps I'm just pissed off by hearing about how important the womens vote is now and how incredibly important the black vote is now. Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit. Your vote was just as important in all the previous elections but so many chose not to use it. If you need to be prompted by Hillary, or by a black man that I still don't think is black, go ahead. As long as it gets you to vote.

One thing, though. Don't be stupid. Vote for who YOU want to vote for, not who they are telling you that you want to vote for. It's exciting to have a female candidate for nomination as well as a black candidate (although technically...). It is fabulous that this will stimulate some people to think and act. I just hope they don't hop on the Hillary train because just because they're female or the Barack train only because they're black. She could be a hardcore PMSer and take you on that ride every month if elected. You think you want that just because she's a woman? Is it worth it? And he may turn out to ban everything you hold dear because you didn't investigate. You think you want that just because he's black? Is it worth it? The idea of either candidate becoming a nominee is exciting; a first for both. I just think that's all people are focusing on.

So back to the other issue. I really want to know the answer. Is there some unwritten clause that states that the darker skin color wins out for racial declaration? Ok then. So what if you are Asian and Puerto Rican? Honduran and Indian? I'd think that in some circumstances, this would be rather difficult to navigate. Do we really have that much of a desire to label people and toss them into neat little compartments that they can't even acknowledge their heritage?

Then again, has anyone ever heard of capturing the biracial vote? I don't know. I still don't think he's black. (And if he can use that term, so can I.) I just get pissed off when I hear this... "Uh, huh. Oh, you know that's right! My vote gonna get his black ass in THE. WHITE. HOUSE!! 'Bama in the hizouse!" (Don't give me any shit, I witnessed this conversation today.) If he had 'whiter' features, my guess is that he'd get all sorts of shit for trying to 'pass' and have very little popularity no matter what he stood for. People are fickle.

So in the end, we all gripe about inequality of many sorts, including racial. Most often we try to say 'ignore color' and 'were all the same on the inside'. Blahblahblah... But in the next breath we are drawing dividing lines... the female vote... the black vote. In which case, you're black when it suits you if you're the candidate. I mean come on, if he were a regular guy he'd be not black enough for some and not nearly white enough for others. Just ask my friend, she lives it.

I find it confusing to figure out when people want to be compartmentalized and when they want to just be free to be who they are. Do they want to be herded and told where and when they count or do they just want to go about and do what seems right? Is being who you are really that hard? I'm afraid the answer might be 'yes'.

** Look, I'm just really pissy today and I have all these questions and no one to ask them to. If you've been around here long enough you should know that I don't really discriminate... I'm annoyed by ALL people. The questions I'm having are more about the state of what is acceptable and why. We seem to set all these taboos and morees just to knock them down while condemning others for doing the same. When it all comes down to it, either Hillary or Barack will get my vote, barring any bizarre happenings. Terms like 'womens vote' and 'black vote' piss me off. Its as if it discredits voters' ability to select a candidate prior to someone pointing out that there's a woman or a black man to identify with. Then there's still the question of 'how much black makes you black'? How much white is too much to mess it up? Look, I'm being honest in asking, not trying to step on toes. Or perhaps little miss white girl over here is just jealous that she doesn't have a drop of anything remotely interesting in her.

Used to ride around here on my high, high horse

Hear me out on this one. I suck. Not only do I suck, but I really, really suck. I'm rotten and I know it. Do I feel bad about it? Yeah. Might I try to explain my way out of it? Sure. But no matter; I still suck. See, when there is something I don't want to handle, I most often plow straight through it anyway. Now, when that something surprises me, I have an altogether different response. I like to call it "I'm not listening I'm not listening I'm not listening". Or, more specifically, I deny it.

A couple of weeks ago I saw a girl I'd gone to school with. We'd kept in touch throughout the years albeit sporadically. As I'm in the store I turn and glance up and lock eyes with her. Me, being rather indifferent flashes a noncommittal half smile; the kind you give to strangers that pass you in the hall. Way to go Miss Friendly. All because I didn't want to have to answer questions about my life.

But today was worse. Way worse. I'm at work and walking down the hall which is littered with med carts and food carts and even though I was pissy as all hell and in my own little world, I was aware that there were several people walking toward me. I stood off to the side and impatiently waited for them to move faster. (Really, I was incredibly cranky.) Assessment indicates that one slows slightly and I look up, reminding myself to be pleasant. And I am. We make eye contact and I smile, kind of tilt my head and say 'hi' in a pleasant but utterly detatched manner. As I break eye contact, I realize it's someone I know. Holy fuck. I can't go back on the detatched theme now so I keep going as if I had no idea at all who he was. My excellent peripheral vision showed that not only did he turn to watch me, but he was pointing me out to his buddy. Most likely saying 'see that girl? I know her, I know she knows it's me and she's being a complete bitch'. And he's right. I knew it was him and opted to not do a damn thing. That was so wrong and I've figured out why.

See, I've known him for, oh, maybe 8 years now but haven't seen him for perhaps three. (His live-in girlfriend didn't like me so much as he was apparently talking about me a bit more than he should have.) When it started, I was amused by him and he always professed his love for me. It was his drinking that was an issue. Drunk/sober; night/day. He was never mean, just really fucking annoying and loud and did I mention annoying? So we always did this dance, he and I. Circling one another. Never getting into a full relationship but spending years contemplating it and going through all the motions sans the title. See, he was always after the teeny gals with the long blonde hair, which I was not. I was more into the dark, mental anguish type or the intelligent ones. He was this plucky construction worker with kids. (Yes, guys can be plucky.) He was a grade A jackass most of the time, but there was something about him that I could not deny that I liked. He just tried so hard. He really was a good guy. Annoying, but good.

And today I pass him in the hall, he was obviously visiting someone in the hospital. Of all the places I could have been at that moment and I chose to go on rounds a bit early; I would have missed him most likely. So there he is, this guy that is much, much more than a casual friend. Someone I struggled to not be drawn to yet I was. And when put on the spot, I ignored him and stepped past him. Even when I saw that he'd turned and was pointing me out. I kept on, just as if he were any other person.

Not only does it bother me that what I did was most likely confusing to him but maybe hurtful, but something more. I intentionally did not acknowledge him. How basic a need is that? To be seen, heard, simple validation of your existence. And I looked him in the eye and took that all away. If I can do that; intentionally pretend you are nothing, that either means I have serious issues or that my safety mechanisms have gone haywire. Truthfully, I feel worse about this than if I'd just walked up and sucker punched him. This was a betrayal of sorts. Shit, I'm awful!

And surely you can guess what I'm thinking now, right? I'm hoping to see him again or even stop by his house. Just to creatively explain (er, lie) as to why I didn't say anything, even when I looked straight at him!!! Ok, I have no idea what I could say but I'm a creative girl, I'll pull it off. I know it won't turn back time, but I want him to know that I do see him. That I didn't forget who he was or that he meant so little to me that I didn't care. Man, this is really, really bothering me. Hardcore.

Do I think I could manage to let him know, without really revealing everything, that I'm sorry for being like that? I don't know. I know him. His reaction tells me that he's confused. Confusion pairs with doubt. I'm going to have to find a way. I can handle feeling like an ass if it clears things up.

Sometimes my desire to be fully detached gets the best of me. I was so mean. I didn't mean to be, it just happened. Quiet meanness. The look of hopeful recognition in his eyes is killing me. I'm not really sure what I feel I must protect myself from at all times but it's causing problems.

Every person deserves to be seen. I took that basic truth away. Man, I suck.

anime? aniME! (I'm breaking the rules)

Well now. I have to say that I am kind of surprised that this post is in the midst of coming to life. Perhaps it's because I've been here with you for just over three years. Three years you've been listening to me ramble. Or making fun of me while I ramble. Either way.

But that's not really it. And it's not for shallow reasons, you should know me better by now.

This post is sheerly for amusement although I am not a fan of how I need to go about demonstrating said point of amusement. I'm actually breaking a huge rule of my own here. But this amuses me, so I'm just going to go with it for now.

See, I just got my hair cut. For the second time in a row, my stylist has fashioned my red tresses into a real life anime 'do'.

Perhaps it doesn't translate well via hastily shot photos, but trust me... I am lookin' like one of those genderless lil' things in the cartoons! Ok, at least my hair. The rest of me was in sweats, hardly any makeup and growing more tired on my busy day off. I don't recall any anime characters in that exact state.

So anyway, in order to show you, I have to meet you... here's me in my aniME do.

Haha! Note the skulls on my shirt; or Jolly Rogers as my friend calls them. I feel soooo awkward. This post may self destruct at any time. Possibly even before I post it. ;)

!

I'm guessing this isn't what Mr. King was referring to...

So. This dream was, well, peculiar. I was pregnant. Not just pregnant but going into labor. And until that moment, I had no recollection of even being pregnant. I looked down and saw belly. I reached down and touched belly. I felt faint and found myself mostly on the floor with a doctor trying to administer an IV sedative. Ok so yeah, I'm guessing I wasn't just calm as could be when I learned I was 9 months pregnant like, 96 seconds ago! As it turns out, I bargained for him to give me only half the usual dose because I still wanted an epidural and was not about to take the chance that it would interfere with that. Still, I blocked out the entire pregnancy?

Anyway, I look around and realize that there is no one around that I know. I think Paul is out getting something to drink but then I look down and sadly realize that he cannot be the father because I haven't seen him in many years. He is not even out getting a drink. He's not here, he's just gone. But I can feel contractions starting. And I'm confused. And alone. With no idea where I am. And a moment ago I wasn't pregnant. Now I'm in labor. I cannot grasp this. Thankfully, I don't have to. The sedative sees that I finish my descent to the floor and I feel it fading away to nothing.

Just to clear thing up. No, I am not pregnant. Not even by a longshot. I do think I miss Paul very much but fear contacting him. I want to, but I'm scared of several possible outcomes. As far as the actual pregnancy thing, I'm guessing it symbolized something else (as dreams will do) but it made me think. I don't enjoy most surprises, so for this, just imagine you wake up and *poof*, you're going into labor. Weird. Perhaps I should wash my nightly Klonopin down with a beer or something. Know what the weirdest thing was, though? I was sort of ok with it.

A pressure cooker without the tasty goodness

I dunno. I could be wrong. Something tells me that all that I have been doing to get my life in order is really only a cushion for when things go haywire. It might be starting. It sort of feels that way. It is so annoying when you feel like you are on the cusp of something but instead of being excited about it, you have this low voltage edginess going on.

I'm watching old episodes of I Love Lucy (as if there are new ones...) and gritting my teeth at the simplicity of it all. Jealously, of course. In addition, she's got some killer dresses and a hot Cuban. For as much as I enjoy watching the show, I always feel like I somehow failed. In general. Like it's a societal-based failure.

Parts of me are so hateful that I am even somewhat embarassed. Not sure where it's coming from so I find it hard to reel it in. If I can't go to the source, I don't know which wire to cut, you know? Really though, I'm still a very sweet, intelligent, kind person at the same time. I just change on a dime. Perhaps that's what I'm having a hard time with. Maybe I feel like I am supposed to be one or the other, not one and the other.

Winter is getting to me and I fear that one more bout of snow and freezing rain will have me sprawled out, pounding my fists into the mess and shouting obscenities. Not that much different from any other day with the exception that I could hurt myself punching ice. Winter makes me feel confined. I have serious confinement issues. Perhaps I should reevaluate my current locale in reference to weather sometime in the next year or so.

Not without a long string of unforseen and poorly paired events, I came into the world of technology today. One level of it anyway. Digital phone, caller ID, digital cable and the DVR thingy. I'm recording something as we speak. Which I want to say I'm taping it but that's not accurate, is it? Old habits, eh? Never did have caller ID on a home phone. I'd let you leave a message and if I felt like talking, I'd call you back. That was a fine form of ID in my book. But it's now included, so I have it. Apparently sometime tomorrow it will be showing up on the TV screen, should I have it on. As if I'm too lazy to turn and look at the handset next to me.

Oh, and here's a little something I learned along the way. Unless you actually have a septic system or really sensitive plumbing, do not buy septic safe toilet paper. You can grab three yards of the stuff and wrap it around your hand but when all is said and done, your hand goes right through and you've basically just peed on your own hand. Granted, it is your own urine but still. Apparently septic safe means water (or urine) breaks it down easily. Good for the septic system, bad for my hand.

I'll be around to spread my cheer over the weekend. Not to worry, I'll wash my hands first.

Gah!!! I need to know what you know!

Help. I need to know if this name/word has any significance to anyone. Anyone at all. I mean, is it something I made up? I could have but it's been invading my brain daily for months. Nothing more, just the word. Either I find out what it is or I do my best to evict it because it won't leave.

The word? Hezbekkah.

Thanks all; back soon.

Five pillows are calling my name

At this point I am physically tired, stretched out, achy, and in need of vast quanities of sleep. I've handled ceiling leaks, failing garage doors, malfunctioning elevators, faulty payment postings, learning that I OWE tax this year, emails comprised of towering concepts, and conversations that contain more words than I even thought I knew. Add in computer training for a system that is to go live in just about 7 weeks and my ass firmly planted on a committee to link that with existing systems along with several shifts in my schedule that will last months. I've argued, driven many miles, and come to the conclusion that my car's gas mileage is reduced by at least 20% if I use a 10% ethanol blend. The amount I've lost in gas vs my new crown is a toss up. Spent the day with my family, even though I was sure it would end in some form of nastiness. It did, but I chose that anyway. I find that I like to have conversations more with people that are closer to dying. They have no fear about what they say. Of course they may have less tact that I might like, but I really feel comfortable taking what they say at face value.

This is not so bad. I'm. just. so. very. tired. Buzzbuzz; I'm a busy little bee.

I need mental training wheels and curb feelers!

I've been having one of those off days. Weeks. Ok, so it's been like two weeks. I just seem to be all thumbs in the physical as well as the mental realm. I'm not thinking; every single thing is just off. Good thing for me it's gotten to the point that I can just laugh and carry on. (I can, other people, not so much.)

You know how you have patterns when it comes to the simple things? Left sock then left shoe, (repeat on right) or first both socks then shoes. You know, easy things. So I ended up in the shower trying to figure out how I'd washed my hair (I knew I had the shampoo in my hand) yet somehow didn't wash my hair. Thing of it is, I've been so spacey that it took me somewhere between 2-3 minutes of hardcore detective work to piece it all together. I'd washed ME with the shampoo on my little scrubby thing. I think my autopilot is malfunctioning because it's these little things that are all going haywire. Easy, shampoo - hair; body gets the shower gel. Oh well, I didn't have time to shave my legs so I can take comfort in knowing the stubble is soft, shiny and manageable. And of course I did wash my hair (with shampoo) and rewash me with shower gel. Damn if it isn't those easy things that trip you up!

How many people do you know that stick their toothbrush in the toilet as a reaction to assist a drowning spider. Although this is the first time I've seen a big crunchy looking black spider doing a multi-legged backstroke, the idea that I abhor spiders should have registered leaving the only viable option as... flush. But no. I saved the little fucker and he was last seen briskly making a break for the linen closet. Which is beside my bedroom. I'm sure I'll sleep again, someday. Needless to say, that toothbrush is history.

But then again I'm not sure if I'll need a toothbrush again. Yours truly broke off about a third of the space-age polymer filling that was standing in until I have the crown process initiated next week. This is a rather large portion (about 1/4 of the entire surface) that gave in to the obvious relentless pounding I doled out when I was eating a piece of bread. Bread. Bread vs tooth? Logically, which wins? Aha, and they say there are no mysteries left!

Everything I reach for, I bash my hand into. When I try to speak, I sound like a nervous schoolgirl. Or like I've been drinking. Or worse, both. All pens run out of ink on my hand*, all stacks of paper tumble down like confetti. It really has gotten to the point where it is just plain funny. I'm sure it's just a phase that will end but until then, I don't mind finding humor in myself. Sometimes you just have to ride that awkward wave.

* Technically it was only one pen really, but you get the idea.

Laziness, needles, and leaving the truck by the roadside

Being that today was my day off, I had to do something within those hours that would make me tired, cranky and ready for another day off (which I wouldn't be getting), thus, it'd give me something to bitch about. In a nutshell, I was set up to help my mom move. Not a far move but one that involved furniture and two individuals that have bad knees, backs, etc. Anyway, up early I met her and we drove to the U-Haul lot to get the truck. Where she proceeds to have a breakdown. In my car. In the lot. Mere inches from me. Shit. So I told her we don't need to sit in the shadow of the looming trucks and rode off into the sunrise to have a talk. In the end, she didn't move. Who knows what next month will hold but I've paid her rent for the coming month. On the bright side, she has two interviews this week; she's been searching for a job for so long. Very peculiar morning. Meh, I didn't feel like moving crap anyway.

You know, this has no bearing on anything really, but I'm learning that I'm kind of a shitty friend. I mean it. In some ways, I rock. If I ever needed a good friend, I'd want 'me'. The problem is that I'm a lazy friend. That's hard to explain but it's the truth. I want to make the effort, I just have a hard time making it happen sometimes.

Oh... and I've decided what my next tattoo will be. I'm so excited! Here's the idea. A clock face with roman numerals, except the 7. The time will be set to 11p (might use military time as well to make it clear). That portion signifies the 'eleventh hour' theme in my life. In a mirror image that touches up against the first, all numbers will be backward (duh, mirror image) except the 7. That refers to my all encompassing duality. IF I feel like spending tons of money, I may make it look like an open pocket watch in which the chain is being carried up and away by, what else, a phoenix. Black and white, kick ass shading. Dude, I'm so into this. Now to figure out where to put it.

I like looking forward to something instead of always looking back.

Helpful hint #171

When one purchases a new bra, it is wise to wear it for the first time on a day off. At home. Not within any sort of visual distance of any other human being lest you find at a very inopportune moment that it is really not meant to fit your body. Or perhaps anyone's body. That is, unless they like the multi-teat farm animal look that occurs when it rides up just far enough to push half of your breasts up over the wire and half of them under the wire. I assume it would have looked something like a flesh colored four leaf clover, minus the stem. But I never-so-gracefully just put them back where they belonged at warp speed while walking through the department so I never had visual proof. Yes, well.... note to self, as they say.

Carry on.

Some floods start from within

I don't want to talk about it. I recall the Indigo Girls saying something of the sort in a song years ago. The thing is, if I don't, this will all slowly kill me. Or perhaps not so slowly.

It has been a rough week. I found a letter from a guy that I had been so close to at one time. He was my first. And by that, I don't mean sex. Not that it matters but we never engaged. By first I mean he was the first guy I trusted. Well, after I learned that they shouldn't be trusted. We were inseperable until he moved to NYC. Anyway, this letter. He talked about seriously thinking about marriage, with me. To know his history, that means so much even now. But we were 19. Both of us had experienced things that any person beyond our years should never have to and there we were, two broken people that met in a new city within hours of our arrival. Finding this letter shook me for a multitude of reasons. I think I could find him through a website where some of his work (he's an artist) was featured but I don't think I can. Not now. If you knew everything, you'd understand.

But that was only a primer. I was going through the same box where I found this letter and found something else that has had me upset. Whew. I found a long forgotten letter and with it, two photos of the person who'd penned it. I saw the photos first; it had been so long that it took me too long to realize that it was my baby's father. It was all another tragedy in a long line. Like I said, I don't speak of these things. But to have him there looking at me sent me on a spiral of 'what if's. There are far too many and none of them played out. I wasn't prepared to see his face nor to imagine the other I never saw.

So the next day this is all circling in my head like vultures and I realize that I'd better watch every move I make lest I be too hasty. I can't often trust myself. Rightly so. All I can tell you is that clothing modification becomes old after a while. I've gone underground, so to speak. Oh sure, I'm strangely well-adjusted in some areas and am a star employee but what no one knows is that while I pleasantly carry on my responsibilities there is something very dark going on behind my eyes. For as much as I struggle to rise above, I also force myself to feel as much pain as possible, as if feeling it once makes it go away. It never does. It never has. But I keep trying. I'm becoming more creative but the bloodletting still goes on.

I know some of this is vague. Perhaps I'm the only one that knows what it means, but it's as close as I could come to getting it all out. Some things here could be taken several ways and that is fine with me, most likely intentional on my part. But just to say, although I was having suicidal urges a while back, I'm not suicidal now. I'm somewhere between wanting to make the pain stop and bringing on as much as possible because I somehow feel I deserve it and that it might be some sort of cleansing in the end.

But what can I say, I'm doing my best to hide the fact that I'm this fucked up at the moment. The one reason I don't want a full-on meltdown is because that puts me in a vulnerable position. But I'm scheduling a psych appointment ASAP. If I'm honest and tell them what I've been doing when I call, I bet I'll be on the couch within days, and he schedules almost a month out. I'm not as concerned as they'd be because this has been a pattern in my life for almost as long as I can remember. I know it's not normal but I'm not afraid of it, I just know it's not right. I can wait.

I've been listening to this. Surprisingly mellow. I'm all for the letting go part but don't expect anyone to be there. I guess you can't have it all.

Yeah, it's been a rough week.

There's just no telling, at least not without a surcharge

Interestingness.

So my stabbed friend wakes up yesterday and the first words out of his mouth are "Hows my hair?" Yes, really. Then again he was playing host to numerous sorts of pain meds at the time but it does sound like something he'd say anyway.

Did lose another friend; he thought he had the flu but ended up in surgery for about 30 minutes. Then they promptly sewed him up explaining that that he threw a blod clot that landed below his stomach. It rendered 80% of his digestive tract gangrenous, therefore, rotting. They gave him a slew of drugs including a hefty morphine cocktail and he never really woke up. Not fully.

There are parts of my life that I look at and wonder if I did the right thing, which is hard to do when you don't know the 'whys' of it anyway. Some of the other parts I'm sort of enjoying. Every now and then I feel like giggling like a schoolgirl. I figure that's either a bit of happiness or a whole lotta madness.

When people want out of your life they should need to inform you in writing. That way you aren't sitting around holding out hope for them or taking efforts where none are clearly wanted. Don't you agree?

I'm learning to realize that most of what I have, I have by choice. That when I have something going on that doesn't thrill me, I remind myself that I chose this. In some way, I chose it. It makes me more mindful. It helps me acknowledge my positives and negatives. Leaves me with no apology when I change at the drop of a hat. These are just my choices. Nothing more, nothing less. And who, may I ask, is anyone to judge them? By reminding myself that these are my choices, I truly see things differently. And I like it this way. It's an entire work in progress but I'm taking a new responsibility for my life.

It has nothing to do with resolutions. I can resolve to do anything I want on any given day and tend to not even remember to make one at the beginning of the year. It's not about a quick fix, I want to learn to be happy with what I've chosen, not what I've been given. There is a difference.

Anyway, pc access spotty for up to another 2 weeks. I'm trying to stop in to say hi across the board. All the best. Mwah.

Ah, and talk about things to make you happy? Matthew Good will be making an appearance in Cleveland. He makes me happy. I never really had such a sense of well-being until I went to that first show. Granted, that may sound overboard but if you read over that post, you'll understand. Now, I'll be able to see him again. It's almost humbling in a strange way. I can't explain it, he just makes me feel that for as wrong as things are, for this moment, this one moment, everything will be just fine.

Creeeeeeak...

Erm, anyone still here?

Ok, other than the crickets....

You? You're here? Fabulous!

Thank you all for the wonderful holiday and new year greetings! I've been away from my pc for, oh, something like 20, 30 days or so now? Yeah. Electronic DTs, lemme tell ya. Should get my pc set up again within a week or two at most so I can catch up.

Work is fine and I've been doing alot of it lately. Not that I'm complaining, because I'm not. Other than some basic crap, like an icky cold, I've been holding my own. No meltdowns through the holiday season... yay!

So very many things have been going through my head and if only I'd written them down, I'd have something to say here. Well, some I do remember and I will write about but they were just about human nature and how it can be such a bizarre thing.

On the down side, both a friend and an acquaintance of mine were stabbed a few days ago. Organs have been repaired and some removed and they are still in critical condition under constant sedation (drug-induced coma) to give their bodies time to heal. Send some good thoughts to Jason and Ray for me, will ya? They have just enough 'stubborn' in them to make it through but an extra good vibe here and there couldn't hurt. Thanks!

I will be writing more. To you. To me. For anyone that is interested in listening basically. I've found this need to dissect behavior patterns, truths, lies, and everything in between. Fascinating, really. So once I'm up and running again, you'll get to add your two cents (substitute any paltry monetary amount here). Well, once I've dusted off these cobwebs...

xoxo