If you ever wonder where it all began... it was here. Right. Here.

For some reason it occurred to me that it's January.  Granted, I've had almost a full month to come to terms with that, but it didn't seem to matter until now.  All of a sudden I figured out why.  As I sat there posting videos, lost in some crunchy blues guitar, I realized that it is my Blogiversary!  To.  The.  Day.

Ho-lee shit.  This ridiculosity started in January 2005.  Eight years of spewing forth.  Right here.  Now, I had been lurking and commenting for a few weeks or so prior to posting anything, but somehow, that first post must be burned into some long, lost cobweb-laden pocket of my brain.  Some part of me must have remembered, vaguely, even.  Not that I knew the date, but it came to mind that it was in January some time.  Strange. 

Occasionally I look back on some of those old posts but then I can only do that for so long.  Man.  I though I was bitter back then.  No, not even close.  But as we all know, life can do that to a person.  I think I'm going to have to work a little harder to lose some "bitter" and bump it up to sarcasm again.  

What a difference eight years can make.

I'd say I was sorry but that would be insincere.

Basically I'm referring to all of the videos I just posted all rapid-fire like.  Besides, you have full control over what you look at, so it isn't like I'm holding your eyes and ears (?) open to take it all in.  Their sound changes so if you don't like one, move on to another one.  Or don't.  My blog, my posts.  Dems da rules.

In general I'm feeling that I apologize way too often for things that either aren't my fault or are beyond my control.  Pretty sure we've all been there at some point, haven't we?  And yes, I DO feel that I can boldly speak for most of humanity regarding this issue.  

Going to have to nip that whole insincere apology thing in the bud.  All it truly is is some basic manners that have been turned into habit.  Not that that is all bad... here's an example I can give.  I work in what was once a hospital bathroom and hallway.  Our med refrigerator is literally in a shower stall.  So, you can imagine the space limitations.  There are two of us in that satellite pharmacy and neither of us are petite by any means.  No matter, short of being Stuart Little, it would still be a tight fit.  In that space, being 5' 1" and 98# won't save you from taking up too much space.  But what do we do all day... 'excuse me', 'sorry', blah, blah, blah... as if it's our fault that they built a pharmacy in a fucking bathroom and hallway!  For a year and a half - still apologizing!

Another example, people in the store that block my path... I apologize when I need to squeeze past them.  Clearly THEY are the obstruction here; they're having a fucking family reunion in the middle of the aisle yet I feel the need to apologize.  

My point is, what starts off as good manners (it IS proper and polite to say 'excuse me, I'm sorry' when you're unexpectedly butts to nuts with someone, you know?) somehow loses all sincerity and really undermines your own confidence on some level when you're always saying you're sorry.  When it becomes rote, just a habit that you can barely even recognize anymore until it is pointed out to you, then it really means nothing, does it?

Maybe I should have made a New Year's resolution... to stop apologizing.  But I didn't.  To which I could say 'fuck it and I'm not sorry'.  Hey!  When is Lent?  I could give up insincere apologizing for Lent.  Yes!  (No, I haven't found religion, but hey, that's how I kicked my frappuccino habit and never looked back...)

Seriously cool video by The Pack a.d. - Sirens

I prefer not to be disturbed when I'm on a roll in my own head.  Just keep the name of the song in mind when you watch the video.  Well done.  I've got two CDs on their way to me as we speak.  This band is my new addiction.

I lied... I'm on a roll... more Pack A.D.... **WARNING**

**WARNING**  Shortly after the 0:30 mark, well, just brace yourself.  And maybe make sure kids aren't around.  It is a bit disturbing.  And I suppose the end is a bit violent as well.

My "new" band... The Pack A.D. - Wolves and Werewolves

Last one, I think.  Never saw the show Being Human, but perhaps this was played in an episode.  Either way, These two make quite a bit of noise, no?  It's like crunchy garage/punk with some rockabilly and blues.  Kindly, I've posted several selections for you.  Meh... I might do another one.  Simply because I'm generous like that.

My "new" band.... The Pack A.D. - Underground

This is the song that totally sealed the deal.  I knew I had to have this at max volume in my car... windows down with that crunchy bluesy riff.  (Clearly not now, but when the weather warms up...)

My "new" band.... The Pack a.d. - Take

This is the first song I heard by them and it just snowballed from there.  Gotta love the tribute to Gary Newman here.  So spot on it's creepy.  But so was he.  And so is this band, in a way.  Ok, carry on.  

And so it begins, this "2013" people speak of.

I'm not sure how I feel about it, really.  

The one thing I do know is that it will hold great change.  Not that the changes will actually BE great, but you get my point.  Things are such in my life that there really isn't much of an option but for them to change.

Unfortunately starting off the year in a depressive state is not really what I would have chosen, but then again, we rarely get to choose things like that, now, do we?  Can't take any meds, so I have to tough it out and hope I don't make any really stupid choices before it passes.

And my blogger comment notifications STILL go into the ether somewhere... not to either email I have listed.  Come ON Blogger, get your fucking shit together already!  I don't have the patience to be dicking around with the likes of you and your little quirks. 

My new goal is to sell a few things on eBay again - enough to get a new tattoo.  Not 'the big one' I wanted, just one to hold me over.  Most likely lyrics, as it were. 

Today is my Christmas.  I fucked up the other one but no one in my family celebrates this one anymore, so that's just one more thing to carry - that I fucked up Christmas.  I suppose I kind of did, but 1) I TRULY didn't start it and 2) you can't reason with mental illness.  So, in the words of Kid Rock... 'fuck all you hoes".

Which, in case you were wondering, those would NOT be the lyrics I want inked.

I know I'm not the only one who isn't in love with the holiday season

Lately, I've really wanted to start punching people in the face though.  Being on Facebook, you see lots of things posted - signs and memes and such.  I'm getting a little tired of being told certain things.  Things like ~ cherish your friends and family, they will be the ones who will be there for you in the end.  Or some such crap.  Have these people MET my family?  No, so they need to shut the fuck up.

My family is pushing me to the point of packing what I can and just leaving.  They don't give two shits about what happens to me.  Of course, they SAY they do.  Occasionally.  But their actions tell an entirely different tale.  I'm running myself ragged with things THEY should be doing and they continue to be just fine with that despite my protestation.  Of course they're fine with it... if you had someone you could take advantage of and have them do your job, wouldn't that be great?!  Because they sure think it is.  

They kind of have a big surprise coming, though.  I truly hope neither my mother nor my aunt thinks that I'll be taking care of them in their later years.  I've just spent all my patience and 'give a damn' taking care of THEIR mother while they stood idly by.  Paybacks are a bitch.  So is Karma.  And it isn't like I'd intentionally snub them, it is simply that I'm worn out.  I am now officially used up.  Physically, emotionally, mentally, financially.  There is nothing left.  So I wonder what they will do when they need help and they come to me, as they always do, and I say, 'sorry, I have nothing left to give as I've been giving enough for four people yet I am just one' and quietly close the door.  (Literally four people.)

So please, don't tell me that my family and friends will be there.  The fuck they will.  The moment things went beyond their comfort zone, I was left holding the responsibility and giving up my life. Fuck all that cozy bullshit because that simply isn't my reality.

I'm thisclose to literally just picking a place on the map and taking off.  We've established that you can't outrun yourself, and that's ok, but I can outrun THEM.  Maybe I could get 'me' back.

So. My doctor died.

Yeah.  Yesterday.  Massive stroke.  Like, hugely massive.  He had a mild one about a year ago and a heart attack a few years before that.  He was such a nice man and beyond dedicated as a physician, especially by today's standards.  When I had the ADR last year, he was the one that helped me unravel so much of the mess.  Hard to believe he's gone because he just had such a presence.

Anyway, yesterday I donated blood at a Red Cross blood drive that I've never been to before.  I thought it was strange that it was the day after Thanksgiving but then I learned that it was held that day every year in memory of a young guy of 20 that was killed on that day.  So after donating I looked at the photo boards and high school/college sports articles and noted the name.  Did an internet search and it turns out there is a roadside memorial that I pass every single day on my way to and from work that is placed at the site where he died.  I know one day I wrote a post commenting on that - the whole roadside memorial thing.  How I understand that people mourn differently and that while it makes them feel better it is a distraction to drivers and in the end, may end up causing another accident.  Yep.  His. 

On a different note, I think I rescued my computer.  The offending beastie that was causing the near death of my laptop?  Norton.  Fuck Norton, you know?  They used to be great, now, not so much.  At least I don't have to consider getting another one at this time.  

My boss is quitting.  My immediate boss, I should say.  She and I work in Oncology mixing chemo and we are separate from the main pharmacy, which I work in once every three weekends or something.  Anyway, she is quitting and her replacement is this guy Eric, and he and I get along very well and have since we met, so I think it will be fine.  The only problem is that they (administration) want to move us to another building (fine) and have our patients (severely immunocompromised) sitting next to outpatients that are there to be treated for resistant infections.  What.  The.  Fuck.  Seriously?!  Somehow they think this is a perfectly reasonable thing to have them side by side.  And in the midst of all of this, I think our Pharmacy Director is looking to retire.  

Still handling the majority of everything with my gram.  She is at least doing well.  Oh, as of last week we learned that my mother has a blood clot in her leg...

Not that I think anyone really gives a shit about this, but sometimes you just have to get things off your chest and I have no human that plays that role for me.  So here it is... a bunch of shit you really don't want or need to know.  I'm done for now. 

Not your ordinary Thanksgivingish sort of post.

First, yes, I'm here.  No I haven't been around, but I'm here.  Too much being dumped on me and as per usual, I'm struggling to carry it all.  Add in the insanity that is a computer thisclose to a full out crash, and, well, there you have it.  

But enough about me.  Or the me that we know today.  We're going back to a much younger me in this post.  Every year, right around this time (meaning Thanksgiving) a thought crosses my mind.  And when it does, it angers me.  

So imagine a young LiVEwiRe somewhere around 12-13 years of age.  Living in a small town, there wasn't much to do so there was this church that offered, oh, I don't know what it was.  It was something like a place for kids of different age groups to get together, talk, hang out, maybe watch a movie, occasionally they had a dance ~ you know, that sort of thing.  They weren't too heavy on religion (which is probably why I agreed to go) but it did seep through given the fact that it was based in a church.  

Anyway, the typical librarian looking mom-types were there to get things rolling every week pushing us to turn out like decent human beings as opposed to the derelicts that we would otherwise surely become.  Being fairly new in the school system, I got to interact with more kids which was alright by me ~ keep in mind this is back when I was quiet and shy.

One night before Thanksgiving, we had our chairs in a circle and were supposed to go around and say what we were thankful for.  Based on the person that started, I was 1/4 to 1/3 of the way down the line.  Some kids said 'friends'.  Some kids said 'family'.  Some said both.  Then it was my turn.  I was so nervous but I spoke the truth.  I said I was thankful for the chance to live in freedom, have an education, and to be safe.  Of course I did add family and friends to round out the list.  Aaaannnddd.... crickets.  No, that isn't entirely true.  Crickets AND utterly blank stares all directed toward me.  Kind of like they were debating on whether or not I was kidding or if they should run or who knows what.  but everyone was clearly taken aback by what I'd said.  After a moment, the next person continued on... friends, family, family and friends... and so on and so forth ad infinitum.  Or more correctly, until everyone had taken their turn.

Not ONE other person that spoke after me (which was 2/3 - 3/4 of the group) added anything different, with the exception of one kid who was thankful for his dog.  Not one adult spoke up and added anything other than the aforementioned F&F.  

You may wonder why this is even a point for discussion.  To be honest, I'm not sure, but every single year, without fail, I think of that night.  I'm not sure if I was irritated because out of all the things in the world, every single person there was just thankful for F&F?  Nothing else?  Really?  Must be nice living in your own little bubble you self-absorbed simpletons.  Or maybe it was because no one found things like an education, etc, important enough to even mention making me seem like an immense weirdo.  I mean, I totally opened the door to something other than F&F there, so no one had to be afraid to be 'first' to mention something other than what their friends had said.  Or perhaps it was the fact that the adults, that were supposedly put there to provide guidance, couldn't provide anything more than the 12 year old next to me.  I think it was a lesson in disappointment.

So what am I thankful for now?  My willingness to open my big mouth.  Still.
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The Trews hit Australia... spread the word, folks!

Lots of videos and music to be found here!  =)

Click the link, go to the right sidebar at the link above to listen to the first Canadian release from the upcoming EP.  Go here to listen to their cover of 'Leaps and Bounds', a Paul Kelly cover.

Lately I feel like all I do is bitch or fix problems. Or bitch about fixing problems.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am aware that good things happen all the time.  Yes, even to me.  Take, for example, the fact that thus far today, I have not spontaneously combusted.  I think that is magnificent and you know, I'm pretty damned grateful.  My car didn't break down, I still have a job and I still have all the parts I woke up with.  See... these things aren't lost on me.

But now to the meat of it.

It has been a tough handful of weeks.  I will make this brief.  Ish.

The main issue is that I am being overloaded in regard to my grandmother and her well-being.  She has two daughters, one that is five minutes away, unemployed (open schedule), and next to useless.  In the off chance that she DOES help, she creates more of a problem.  Her other daughter (my mother) works, volunteers, and lives with constant pain from two medical issues and has just undergone spinal nerve ablation procedure on three nerves and will be having three more done on Monday.  In light of that, she manages to help much more than her sister.  Even so, the majority of everything falls on me for two reasons.  One, I live with my grandmother.  Two, these things have to be done.

So the latest is that at age 91, my gram will be having surgery for a severely prolapsed uterus.  The issue is that it is causing urinary retention (which had her hospitalized) not to mention the fact that her uterus is often times peeking out about two inches.  And how is it that I know this?  Her doctor needed to have her monitored so it was me or a home health care nurse, and I would have had to have done it until that was arranged anyway, so what is a few more days, you know?  Point is this...

There is something very awkward about having to visually 'inspect' the affected area in an adult (if it is your child, that is different - it is your kid, you know?) and especially a family member.  Then to be met with a fucking uterus looking right the fuck back at you... jayzus!  Go ahead, do an internet image search for uterine prolapse and when you see a really nasty example, kind of like half a pear sticking out, that is what I'm seeing daily.  Until her surgery is done, she just has to 'push it back in'.  That should just not be an option.  Push an organ back in?  Ugh.  Honest to enter diety here, I am scarred for life.  I'm sure it is no picnic for her either, but there are so many lines that I am crossing here.  And add to the fact that her memory is slipping, I can hardly wait until her next doc appt when they ask the standard 'do you feel safe at home' and she pipes up with some comment about me being all up in her hoo-ha.  Seriously, people go to jail for that shit!

I am handling 85% of everything that has to be done for her and again, I am not her child.  I love her just as I would if she were my mother ~ she raised me for many years ~ but she has her own children.  I'm not going to get into any of the other things surrounding this, I just needed to speak my mind.  This is harder than I thought.  I never imagined I'd be doing the things that I've been responsible for doing.  This is like having a spouse, kids, a baby and a puppy all at once.  And if you recall... I opted out of those things.  Somehow, the responsibility of it all came back to me in the end anyway.

This has been going on for years, but since this past Fall, it has really increased in severity.  Just overloaded.

Mojo Monkey Boy

R.I.P. ~ Mojo Monkey Boy

17 years and 7 months of life with more than 16 of those lived as a 'kitten'. The only cat I've known to be perpetually two years old. Certainly the cat with the most (and most interesting) names... and a tail that wouldn't quit, until now; perhaps the saddest sight of all.

Your charm earned friendships with everyone that you met. Thank you for the many years of joy, love and head butts. The end of an era, my Mojo. It is hard to even remember life before you, but because of you, life has been far richer.

Skip across the bridge, my friend, I will see you again... 

~

'Nothing But the Water' ~ phenomenal

It is never easy to bury a friend

Which is pretty much why I don't think I will be going tomorrow.  Today, I went to calling hours and it was difficult.  Not like it is ever an easy thing to do, but I ended up going myself and really having a hard time.  On the way there, I got the red light at the intersection where he was killed.  All sorts of things going through my head... where was he when he collided with the car... where was he thrown off... how many people saw... am I driving right over the spot where he took his last breath?

The accident happened Sunday, 7.15 (which is when I found out about it) but his name wasn't publicly released until 7.17, 48 hours later.  It is hard to know something that long and not be able to tell people out of respect for the family.  After he was named in the article, the obituary followed shortly thereafter.  The details of the accident are still not clear. 

Today his sister told me that the family wasn't even permitted to see him until yesterday, so it would seem that it took three days for them to put him back together.   Yes, it was open casket.  Interestingly, my first thought was that he was in a suit and that seemed so very strange to me.  I've always seen him in hospital scrubs or casual clothes. 

I would really like to make it to the funeral service at the church tomorrow (the burial proper is private) but as it is, I've taken this rather hard.  Tomorrow, with the closing of the casket, it will be even moreso and I'm not sure I feel I have any right to stand there sobbing when the family has had such a tragic loss and they are holding it together better than I am.

With that, I think I will look back at today as my goodbye.  The silliest, most engaging, logically crazy, unique, twisted, fun, shoot-from-the-hip guy I've ever known has left the building.  Again, my friend, someday.

Time to dust off the cobwebs

Well.  Sure has been a long time since I've been HERE. 

Would be nice if I could give you a big, elaborate story as to why, but it comes down to boredom, laziness, frustration and just being plain forgetful of late.

Had a three day trip planned for this coming week to drive up to New York, see The Trews and Big Wreck and then hop over to Canada for a few hours.  Um.  Yeah.  I won't be going.  I'm not really pissed about it, but I am hugely disappointed.  It is a choice that I am making in order to stay closer to home as it has been determined that my grandmother will be needing surgery and although it isn't happening this coming week, I can't really leave here here with the things she has going on.  That would be really selfish of me.  I'm all for living your life, but I can't leave her when I know she's scared.  She is 91. 

This is the second little getaway that I planned this year (the other was in May) that fell through, actually for the same reason ~ it was the beginning of all this that is going on now.  I need time away so badly that I'm pretty much mentally done for. 

I've challenged my Director and expect to get reamed on Monday.  Look, the fucker put me on the schedule for 12 days in a row (and three Mondays, which is my day off so I schedule all my appointments then) and never even asked me.  Now.  He and I have had this convo several times and the last time (about a month ago) I thought he finally got it.  So the schedule came out, I saw the 12 days, was trying to find a way to bring it up without getting screamed at (always a touchy subject with him), and then he sent out an email to everyone saying to disregard, he messed up the schedule and he'd have it fixed by days end.  Just in case, I shot a quick email asking if this would (hopefully) change my 12 in a row so that he was aware before making all the changes.  Well, it didn't, so I emailed him last night and although I wasn't mean, it is not an email that he will be pleased to read.  I've had it.  At this point, if I stay in Oncology and lose the hours in the main pharmacy, I don't care.  I will find somewhere else to pick up a few hours.  In truth, I think my time there is about up, by my choice.

Which brings me to another thought... it may be time for me to branch off with my career.  I'm not sure how or what, but I sure as hell don't see the point in taking another job like I have now, just in another hospital.  The novelty would wear off in less than a year, guaranteed.  Time to figure out what I actually want.  No mistaking, that could change again in 5 years, but I'm not worried about 5 years, I'm worried about now.

In other news, which, in truth should have made headlines on the World News... other than the seven days of the meds that put me in the hospital last year, my status is been Bipolar: unmedicated since 5.5.11.  Truthfully, I don't think I'm any worse than I was when I went off the meds.  That is the general consensus as well.  Trust me, I've got a couple that would have NO problem telling me that I was off track.  Which is good; I need that.  This isn't about being non-compliant.  This is a decision that I came to and my doc agrees with since I had lithium toxicity twice then was hospitalized with the ADR last June from the meds that I started to replace the lithium.  Maybe I'm just lucky right now, but I've been maintaining fairly well over the past year.  If it comes to the point where I am not, then I have some decisions to make.  For now, I am refusing treatment for the bipolarity based on the fact that 1) I am scared to death of another bout of toxicity  2) I am fucking terrified that I will end up on death's doorstep again with another ADR and am still recovering from that fiasco  3)  I am no worse without it. 

Well, just figured I'd ramble for a bit to prove that I am still here.  Perhaps tomorrow I will skip around BlogLand, but for now, sleep wins.

Backed into a corner by 15 pounds (alternate title: Sleep Disorders... not just for sleeping anymore

If nothing else, read the information in the two links and see the associated notes at the bottom... educating yourself is always a good thing.

Some of you may remember that a handful of years back I lost 100 pounds without any changes other than eating habits.  I just used a common sense approach, making mindful decisions, improved my general diet and controlled portion.  If I wanted to eat a candy bar, I did; I simply made changes to accomodate over the next couple of days.  Face it:  I was still too fat to exercise and this worked well for me.

Enter knee surgery and 6 weeks of being completely non-weight bearing.  You can also add, meh, 20 pounds or so after what ended up being a several month recovery.  Amazing how the weight will come back (even maintaining the same eating patterns that helped me lose so much weight) when you are literally not moving other than to get to the next room.  So I lost it and gained it and repeated that cycle numerous times over the past couple years.  Why?  Various reasons. 

I made the decision to join a gym and LOVED going.  Not that I lost a huge amount of weight, but I felt better physically, mentally and I was feeling strong!  I actually had palpable muscles under my belly fat... haha.  (I chose to consider them as being 'protected'...::cough::)  Anyway.  I still went to the gym after finding out I needed a knee replacement, it simply changed what I could do.  Then, almost two years I got sick and missed a few months.  Ugh.  Got better, returned for a month or so, then got sick again, and missed a couple more months.  (Lithium toxicity both times.)  This whole time I refused to cancel my membership because I wanted to go back.

Almost a full year ago I got sick a third time (the infamous ADR) and am still recovering.  That is ongoing and it gets slightly better as time goes on.  There are things that have changed though, with my heart, for one.  When I finished that stress test, I was ready to rejoin my gym.  And then I had a few bad days and doubt set in, so I vowed to start like I did last time and simply improve my diet.

Well, for two months I have been dealing with some issues that are alone, stressful.  Overlay more than half a dozen overtop one another and you end up with a stress eater's nightmare.  Me being the stress eater.  Under certain types of stress, a sleep-eating* disorder manifests (which, interestingly, my mother suffered from for years).  It is part of a greater sleep disorder** (from which my mother does not suffer), but it is closely linked and therefore waiting in the wings for the appropriate moment.  Interestingly, for as much stress as I've been under the past few months, that portion hasn't been an issue.  Which totally blows me away.  But, I think I know why.  (This is why I need this blog - I learn things about myself as I am writing.) 

Years ago I figured that food was my way of making myself happy at that moment.  Everything else could have been crumbling around me but I could derive immediate pleasure, bring myself happiness, albeit temporarily, by eating something.  My theory is that there is a certain level of stress that triggers the sleep-eating**.  I am often not aware or even awake when I'm doing it, so it is a subconscious comfort.  What I have been doing lately is just eating nonstop while I'm awake!  I am at the point where subconscious comfort isn't enough.  I need that here and now, during waking hours.  So I overdo it and feel awful, all the while knowing that this compulsive eating has been causing me to add 15 pounds over the past four months or so, mostly in the past two.  But I can't stop.  I am like a meth addict, knowing I am harming my own health, disappointing everyone and still looking for my next hit.  The signs of my abuse are becoming visible and I can feel it.  The stresses show no sign of letting up, I had to do something.

Against my better judgement, I looked into over-the-counter weight loss products.  After realizing that I am not going to fare well going from eating ridiculous amounts to drinking a damned shake, I moved on to the next level.  I just needed something to jump start this process.  So I looked into basic dietary fat blockers and such.  Well.  I refuse to have oil leaking out of my ass (don't ask).  Moving on, I found a supplement that is just a spice.  It is supposed to help with emotional eating by basically supressing that portion of the brain as opposed to being an actual appetite suppressant.  Remember, emotional eaters will eat until they are painfully full and STILL be looking for more to eat ~ it isn't actual hunger we are trying to quell.  Anyway, I read up on it.  It says not to use it if you are bipolar as it can push you toward mania.  I almost bought it.  I was going to do it anyway, even though I have been unmedicated (due to the ADR) for a year now.  And if it pushed me toward mania, there was a possibility that cardiac symptoms would manifest.  ::shakes fist at sky::

That flash of fear was enough.  I know it is a spice, for shit's sake, but in the amount it was to be taken, it had side effects and a definite contraindication group, which I firmly fell into.  Given the fact that my life was turned ass over teakettle over taking a drug that nearly killed me, fear kicked in.  And then I was mad.  And then I got stubborn.  If I did it before, I can do it again.  So today I went to the store and bought more veggies and fruit than you can shake a stick at.  I will still give in to cravings; if I don't, I will surely go overboard.  I've been wanting to lose more weight but instead found myself gaining recently.  So that 15 pounds triggered some fear, which led to anger, then culminated in me wondering what in the fuck I was thinking for even considering taking anything. 

No.  It is just me in this game. 

Game.  On.

*   The term sleep eating often gets a snicker and is often looked at as lack of restraint or an excuse. More times than I care to think of, I've awakened to a half a slice of cheese on my pillowcase (often between my face and the pillowcase...), or several cookies crumbled to bits underneath me. It does warrant a chuckle on one level, but the important thing is to realize that if I were to choke, I'd be screwed. I'm prone to esophageal spasms, which is just what it sounds like. Most often there is no (or a very hazy) recollection of having eaten anything, just the so-called carnage, so I'm quite sure that I'm not chewing thoroughly.

**   This is not a scientific/medical explanation, but it does a fairly good job at describing it. The science behind it is that basically, part of the brain is asleep and part of it is awake. I 'come to' as the sleep world is fading away and the hallucination, whether visual or auditory, will literally fade as I look/listen. This also means I am able to have full conversations, complete with giving opinions, completing tasks, using reasoning abilities and the like and either have no recollection or have my brain 'wake up' mid way through only to have my environment change before my eyes.  It is not at all like waking from sleep, it is like one layer on top of another, both are real at the same time, which is more real depends on which is dominant at that moment ~ the sleeping portion or the awake portion.  To put it another way... the background stays the same, the hallucination is the only part that fades or morphs as you fully wake.  So you are sleeping, but still functioning, speaking, etc.  Strangest shit, really.

The Marina

For a little over nine years (barring an approximate year and a half absence), I have looked out the same windows at work.  When I'm out on rounds, I always stop to look out the window in the day room on our Skilled Nursing Unit.  It overlooks the marina.  Year in and year out, I've watched the boats clear out in the Autumn, the leaves change color and fall, not long after, I watch the snow come and the ice take over, trapping the marina in a beautiful, austere still life.  Come Spring, the leave return, followed shortly by a smattering of boats until the marina is packed. 

Given that we have four distinct seasons, I've witnessed these changes numerous times, yet they aren't changes at all, just part of a cycle.  There is something very comforting about witnessing that.  In truth, it is equally unsettling.  There is the illusion of change, and on a small scale, I suppose there is legitimate change.  But when those changes happen in the same way every year, it is more of a pattern or course of development than a change.

Which makes me wonder what that means to me... having stuck around to play my own role in this for so long.  It always goes back to the marina, though.  Time is measured there.

So. I'm not dead.

And just to prove it, here is a post.  Of course, no one probably cares anymore... and I can't blame you if you don't.  No excuses, but I'll give you a brief synopsis of why I have been absent.  Sometimes you just can't make this shit up.

Working to get health back on track and finally filing a report with the FDA.  Hell, I might even open a class action suit against the drug company, but that is yet to be seen.

Gram's health has been a bit dodgy - not terrible but, let's just say I've been playing the role of nurse at home and doing things that are truly beyond my scope.  I have learned way more about foley catheters than one should when regarding a family member.  Oh, and she just turned 91.

My job is still hovering on being eliminated (with the entire oncology department) and my boss just got stepped on by a cow and has recovered from surgery enough to return to work tomorrow.

Working on websites/promos for my favorite band along side their management company and realizing that my life is pretty fucked right now.  Those two aren't connected, I'm just getting tired and condensing here. 

I've known something has to change and at some point tonight... this very night, I can feel it coming.  No idea if it is good or bad, but it is coming.  This should be getting interesting...

Back sooner rather than later.  Really.