The best thing in my life is Nutella.

The funny thing about life is that, well, it's funny actually. Sometimes blatantly so and other times in a dark, morbid sort of way. Then there's my life which is just a really strange blend. Here's a preview. I'll take it from the day before Thanksgiving which was two weeks ago.

• Narrowly avoided a high speed head on collision. Honestly, if we would have hit there's a strong possibility that we'd all have been killed.
• Out of state looking for apartments for a job I had lost all feeling for and had to make an emergency dental visit. No real determination there although the idea of fractured teeth was a possibility and I got antibiotics.
• Computer crash #1.
• Received full time offer from employer - didn't see that one coming.
• Weighed the pros and cons of each job until I couldn't see straight then declined the initial job in Pittsburgh.
• Computer crash #2.
• A few nights ago I was flossing and my gold inlay flew out of my tooth (one that was bothering me... cooincidence?!). Considering there isn't much left of the tooth (hence the chunk of gold to support it) I literally couldn't go to sleep that night or my grinding and clenching would have snapped the remaining portion off at the gumline. Of course this happened right after I took my sleeping pill... eesh.
• Got another emergency visit and had the space filled with this uber-strong material until I get my crown.
• Cell phone begins to fry.
• Decided to see if I could reinstate my employment in Pittsburgh because insurance started on the first day - I mean, in light of all this dental stuff.
• Uber-strong tooth material breaks after only 12 hours. Oh, come ON.
• Emails back and forth revolving around reinstating the position while beginning to search apartments yet again. Remaining time was filled with four messages to the dentist to help with the tooth.
• The company in Pittsburgh does not want to extend the offer again (either I pissed them off or they have someone) and I have yet to get a call back from my dentist.

Oh, and my mother is having a well-deserved meltdown but I cannot help but feel I pushed her in that direction. She was going to come with me to Pittsburgh to see if she could find a job there. Because I'm not going she can't. It's like I've let her down and I can hear it in her voice even though she doesn't verbalize it. I was her shot at the only hope she's seen in a long, long time and it appears that I screwed it up. It's terrible to feel that you've let down such an important person.

I don't think I'm in a good mental place at this moment.

The lights are out anyway

There's a part of me that has spent many recent hours wondering. About various things really. Life has once again taken a turn. Could be good, might be bad, all I know is that its a turn. This turn is the end result of a 'toss it to the wind' decision made with my back to the wall, a numbed mind and too few hours sleep.

For the love of the gods, can someone explain to me what it is that can happen to a person that makes them forget all they know? Not the things. Not the wheres and whys and hows, but the basic things that most would call instinct. That inate ability to save yourself. To choose those things which will keep us heading forward in an attempt to grow and prosper. What is it that happens to us when we lose that? How deep were the cuts that let it bleed out? How does it take so much of us with it without us knowing. Deceptively, there isn't even a crimson pool at our feet.

It is a sort of shameful thing, really. There isn't even much pain that goes along with it. I think there is fear; the stagnant cloud of paralyzing indecision sees to it that there is only cycling thought and an absence of almost all other feeling, so I don't know how much of the fear comes through. Nothing comes through but the clock keeps ticking and you should panic but no panic comes if you aren't able to feel the sense of urgency. Apathy would have been an upgrade.

Given all the treetop highs and intense lows that have the ability to level me emotionally, this is new territory for me. I typically feel quite alot and this absence, even when this is what I've wished for during various emotional crises, is a saturatingly suspicious thing. Cloying yet completely invisible and evasive as a politician's promise. I'm not sure I've ever felt so much nothing. And I needed to feel something during this time. Unfortunately it was denied to me. Even worse, there are those that would say that I was denying it to myself. I'd only partially agree.

My theory is that we all live our lives and everything leaves an imprint. Over time, they layer like encrypted films in varying densities over different aspects of our psyche. The name of your best friend in first grade, the way your high school teacher wore too much cologne, words from a vitriolic relationship, guilt from that lie you told, your first roller coaster ride, yesterday's breakfast, all of it... it doesn't go away. But even these wisps build until they are opaque. That's when they cut out the light and you have no connection with yourself as you were once familiar. When enough of these things build in any particular sector of your life, doorways get blocked. The silence of it is enough to chill your soul when you take into consideration how badly something must have hurt you, once or over time, to completely go into self-protection mode and deny you such a simple thing. Feeling.

There is no way to know what sort of effect life's day to day encounters will have but we all try to deal the best we can. When it becomes overload, we succumb. And there is no apologizing to yourself or anyone else for your lack of ability to feel. It may come back, you may have to reroute, but the one thing that is certain is that the pathway is blocked for a reason and to force the pathway open is courting disaster.

So I didn't. And I won't. I'll wait to rebuild and I'll cope and I'll go on living my life the best way I know how. It's all any of us can do.

Shit

My pc is trying to die, I was almost killed, I start my new job in 13 days and have no place to live. Shall I continue on with the fact that I had to make an emergency dental appointment? They aren't sure but they think I cracked my teeth under the gumline.

*sigh* what is there to say?

It's time I came clean. I can't live a lie....

Look, I'm just going to say it.

Mike Mills rocks. His voice is way better than Michael Stipe's yet his scrawny behind has represented R.E.M. for decades. I like Mike Mills. I like him better than Mr. Stipe. Although, truth be told, I have nothing against Mr. Stipe, I just resent the fact that Mike Mills takes a backseat to him. Perhaps he wants it that way.

Personally, vocally speaking, I think Mills is the bees knees. Maybe it was the aneurysm that made me feel that way? His, not mine. But then again, no; I secretly swooned pre-aneurysm.

I know, I know - I'm always rooting for the underdog.

Well aware I'm rambling but to be honest, this is seriously a thing I have. I mean the Mills thing. It was bound to come out some day. But we all know that I ramble to, well, pretty much I ramble for any reason. Too many partial throughts trying to reach the escape hatch simultaneously.

Lately I've been learning that I have a main Avoidance Switch and when I trigger it, even I have to fight to turn it off. Mental paralysis. And I don't say this with any amount of humor, but it's like fleeting autism, only I do have the control to turn it on. It's like a safely mechanism when I feel pressure. I go into myself and focus on everything but the wombat in the room, (I like wombats more than elephants) doing everything to cast attention on everything but that wombat.

I'll be gone again a few more days. No, I've not been committed (someone lacks judgement there...) I just have things to do. I'll fill you in later and will make rounds and blow kisses. Or throw punches; I'm not so predictable anymore. ;)

Sometimes I wish I had a wombat. I'd name him Mike Mills. Finest hour, indeed.

A bit like the white rabbit

Yeah, I'd say that's what I'm feeling like.

Found a starved, sickly, stray kitten; nursed her back to health and got her some vet care. Last night she went to her new 7700 sq ft, two million dollar home. Happy ending.

Had to rush Gram to the ER Saturday night but given many possibilities, it was ok. Hemorrhagic cystitis. She was on the mend in two days. Happy ending.

I now have three employment possibilities, none of which have a clear sign telling me to take it. And the clock is ticking. Loudly. See, I committed myself to one then froze. They don't know that part yet. It's no wonder I drug myself heavily to get some sleep. I can't make this decision and it very well may be the death of me.

Out again for the next three or four days so I'll catch up when I get back.
xoxo

When the lights come on this whole place gets ugly

There are times in your life when something isn't quite right, no matter what it is. We vehemently insist that we can't put our finger on it but know that we must in order to find any peace. And so we set off on a journey of self discovery to loose the demons in our head, name the beasts of our past, and quiet the cranial chaos in a valiant attempt to move forward.

Know what? We're a bunch of schmucks. Yep, all of us. You, me, hell, especially me at this point. I've learned why my current dilemma is so magnified. No one sees it as catastrophic except me. That right there should have to told me that logic played no part in it.

After endless hours of thinking, torturing my psyche in an attempt to let the apparently repressed experience surface then purge it from existence, thoughts of suicide dancing in my head... after literally tormenting myself in just about every possible way, then persecuting myself because I didn't know why I felt that way, it happened.

What? I got to the truth of the matter during a conversation with my mother. Not my shrink that I'd seen not two hours earlier, but my mother.

The conversation twisted. The conversation turned. Before I knew it, the conversation doubled back to show me where the problem was. I can't fully account for why I feel like I do, but now I'm at least aware of where it's stemming from. That's why all the logic in the world wasn't helping me. Why I'd think and think and ponder and try to rationalize. And I'd fail. It's all about something I feel, not about how I think. Damage has been done that I feel was my fault. If I'd only been better, tried harder, kept my mouth shut, denied my needs to better a circumstance that was never going to be worthy of me. Logic dictates otherwise, but thats what I seem to feel like.

You can rationalize those things, but how can you erase feeling? I thought I could use words and plans and lists and formulas to rescue myself from the pit I've found myself in but I can no more use that method to come to my answer than I could to explain the color blue.

My point is that when we tell ourselves that we don't know what the problem is or that something isn't right, that's only partially true. You can live with yourself being miserable, which can serve you depending on the circumstance, or you can write it out or talk it out. Just keep talking, even if you're alone; you'll be surprised with what you come up with if you are willing to drop your barriers with yourself. It isn't easy.

Today I was honest. I saw that I was a self-proclaimed Atlas and having had my onus knocked off balance by circumstances around me, I live in fear of it happening again. That fear causes a paralyzing inaction. And I'm Atlas for crissakes, who fucks with Atlas? I'm not used to it. Even though the first shifting of the axis wasn't my fault, I live as though it were. Logic dictates one thing, my feelings another.

Perhaps now I can begin to know what part of me I'm fighting against even though I don't know why I'm feeling like this. The thing is, I didn't learn anything new today, I simply permitted myself to see it for what it was. It was in there the whole time but I opted to sanction prolonged suffering.

The rubble of the human mind is a strange place indeed. And I am a monkey in a long line.

Ugly

This was sent to me many months ago and I'd like to post it here. This isn't something I wrote but something I read from time to time and, of course, I end up crying. There is nothing else I could say right now that would have anywhere near the meaning that this has...

Ugly

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.
To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one ugly cat!"

All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor's huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end. Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front.

As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear- Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.

At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain. Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for. Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, or beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be "Ugly".

Author Unknown

Images of sorrow, pictures of delight - things that go to make up a life...

Today would have been my grandfather's something-or-other birthday. Ninety, ninety one? I'm not really sure because there are three accounts of the year in which he was born. Record keeping left alot to be desired back then. He passed away when I was 21 so that was, what, 16 years ago? To this day, I have never had a dream of him and that bothers me. Fiercely.

Lately I've seen alot of anniversaries of sorts, like my grandfather's birthday. But recently I've come upon one full year that I quit smoking. Intermingled with that is one full year since I left Pittsburgh and so shortly, two years that I'd left Ohio (to go to Pittsburgh). Milestones everywhere. Some much easier to face than others.

I suppose though that if we lack milestones, we're dead, and that is kind of crummy. For as much grief as this past year has given me, and it has, it's all a part of life in general. If I had nothing bad, how could I fully appreciate the good? And damn if I wouldn't be a dull person. So much of who I am is my ability to find the silly in the sinister, humor in the heart wrenching and folly in the plain ol' fucked up. Sometimes I fail, but I always go back to that.

Today, I'm just realizing that it's all part of a whole. Tomorrow I may not see it that way and may be bitching and rebeling over nothing important but that's ok. Because for this moment, I know that there can't be one without the other. I'm not so removed from reality as to not realize that although my life may be a hideously written, poorly casted, low-budget three ring circus at times, it is livable.

For now, I know that. For now, that's ok.

Something that I'm 'for'

It's actually taken me a full week to write this post but I have my reasons. Maybe I'm still processing the event, which is very likely.

See, for some people, they make plans and go about those plans unimpeded. That's not the way things are for me, but I'm ok with that; it's just my life, that's all. When something that is important to me does finally work, I can't help but to be in awe. I almost take on this very silent (speaking may break the spell), afraid to blink (it may be gone), almost shy demeanor.

Last Friday, that was me all the way. I finally got to see Matthew Good perform. Even now I'm in a bit of a hazy state thinking about it. I've followed his music for years then went on to read his blog. This is the blog I always link to and I do so for several reasons. Of course you can check out his music, random photos he's taken, and read posts penned by contributing authors as well as take in his views spanning music, observations of human nature, culture, global politics, humanitarianism, and whatever else comes along. This is a boy with alot to say. Which is not to say that I agree with everything, but much of it gives me a new perspective.

There is something about him. The first time I heard him I was hooked. His music has gone through changes throughout the years as have many things in his life. He speaks candidly and in some way, it almost makes you feel as if you are part of this real friendship even though logic says that you aren't. It's almost as if he can't help drawing you in but ultimately keeps most things at a distance. When I learned that he was recently diagnosed as bipolar, how could I not laugh just a little?! Perhaps this is why his personality has appealed to me for so long.

When the fog cleared and the lights came up and Matthew Good was standing less than a dozen feet away from me, I think I was stiff as a board. This person was now undoubtedly real and for a while had this off detatched look in his eyes. The kind that makes you think something is wrong or that they are just going to up and leave. But he stayed. And he played. And sang. Solo acoustic. His voice has the clarity, strength and presence to go head to head with any studio recording. I was blown away.

He spent some time just going back and forth with audience comments and it would seem that he also has a very bold, silly, but dry sense of humor. For a few moments, all the intensity that he harbors just melted away and he was visibly happy just goofing off for a few minutes. And there we were, just two people between us. I was hoping that some of his 'whatever it is' would make it's way over to me and rub off on me.

This wasn't 'just going to a concert'. This was me finally getting to have the experience of sharing time with a person that I greatly admire. To hear his silliness. To see, when he sang, which songs meant the most to him. To be a part of something orchestrated by someone who I can say I look up to. In some ways, this was a defining moment.

I'm trying to make it to one of the shows in Canada now. No one knows what will happen in the future. He may never tour again. I may lose my hearing. We don't know. So I'll willing to spend what I have to make it to just one more show. Momentarily, I wasn't merely 'happy', I was literally taken away to a place I thought I'd all but forgotten how to get to.

Roadside death trap commentary

I'm not knocking anyone here or criticizing how people choose to mourn but I just need to say that I hate, HATE, it when someone dies in an accident and the family/friends build some roadside memorial.

First, I acknowledge your loss and am truly sorry. Selfishly though, from this end, it seems a bit irresponsible of you to erect such a lavish display. Seeing this takes my focus off the road by distraction - it puts me in danger and those around me. Possibly to end in a car crash, which is apparently what you are making a statement about in the first place.

Next, I can't be the only person with erratic emotions on the road. We've talked about the suicide thing and when I see that, it makes me consider just getting it over and done with as I think my car would play a role. Now, if I'm not prepared to go that day, I really don't think you have any right to push me closer to that precipice. You mourn the loss of your loved one due to an accident. My family would mourn my loss due to what almost seems like selfishness on the part of those that insist upon distracting drivers.

And furthermore, when you put little stuffed animals, balloons and windmills, I understand it's a child that was lost. Again, that loss must be terrible. However, it does not give you the right to distract a driver, who may in turn crash and lose their life, leaving behind a small child. Or to make a parent who has just suffered the loss of their child suffer even more. Look, no one is telling you what to do but personally, I think someone should. People have cemeteries, crypts, churches, all sorts of places to memorialize an individual. Most newspapers have a memorial page that runs. Hell, plant a tree. THOSE are appropriate ways to show your loss, not by irresponsibly and selfishly thinking only of your situation while not even examining the ramifications of what could happen due to your limited-sight actions.

I am no one important when it comes to your life. I cannot tell you how or what to feel. I wish you'd not had a loss to endure, but you have. Why would you make it harder every day when you must drive by the scene of the accident? You'll never forget it whether it's decorated or not.

It may seem like a tribute to you but for others, it is a huge distraction. Not that long ago I was driving when it was dark and rainy. A simple trick of the lights had me swerving to miss something that had run in front of me. I made it out of the spin to learn that it was the stretching shadow of another new roadside memorial.

So tell me, if I die because of your choice to put that up, will you erect one for me as well? Would you even feel an iota of guilt?

I'm a window...

come be the rain.


Life is a strange thing, don't you think? Because I do. And I mean, that's all that really matters. Not smug, I mean that should be all that really matters to any of us - our own personal perceptions. It's funny how that shifts from moment to moment. What was once important isn't even worth being retained in the old memory bank any longer. Then there are those things that come at you from left field and shatter every appropriate response you've ever held. Often I really like those things. Those are the things that bump the less important items off the chart and restructure what is there. Interestingly, these things don't have to be of epic magnitude. Sometimes the most subtle ones have the greatest impact. Perhaps it is all about seeing, really seeing what is in front of you whether you understand it or not. There are reasons that we forget things even though I believe it's all still there somewhere. Like a simple passage in a giant tome on a bottom shelf in the basement of the Library of Congress. Just because it is out of immediate circulation does not mean it has ceased to exist.



Meet my friend who has taught me some new ways of looking at things...he's become a sort of sidekick lately. He accompanied me to Buffalo when I went to see Matthew Good the other night. I didn't really know if he'd be going or not and to be honest, I never knew when he'd just plain disappear on me because Alfred really isn't one for talking. But he came along and other than a few short stints playing 'hang glider' it was nice to have him along. I've taken to telling him he's a 'good little puppy' which is entirely ridiculous because he's not a dog. So we made it to Buffalo and back. I think that's actually as far as he's ever gone in his life. My friend Erica was there, too, but she's been on longer trips so I don't think she was overly excited about Alfred doing a roundtrip to Buffalo. After I came back to my mom's last night, I said good night to Alfred but made him promise to smile for just one picture by my car - symbolizing his great adventure.



He may not be a big talker but I've really learned alot from this guy. When the time comes that he spins that final line and jumps for it, I'm assuming my reaction will be similar to the Wiiiillssoooon moment in Castaway.


I'm a window...
come break in.

Beam me up Scotty

Tomorrow I see Matt Good. There really isn't enough that I can say about that. I can't believe it's here yet it still seems a world away.

The interview went well. I'm still conflicted. Either way I sit and wait.

Did I mention I think I was abducted by aliens? I have a block of time that I cannot remember at all. It's really freaking me out because the majority of the time I was driving. Not one bit of a memory. Before it, ok - after that, fine. The 20ish minutes between are a full on blank.

A goal within reach

Quick post because I gotta pee. Seriously.

Barring thoroughly spontaneous renegade evil-doer thoughts, all suicidal ideation will most likely be delayed for another, oh, eight days or so. I'm going to see Matthew Good on the 5th! Finally! I've waitied too long to see him to die just before. Hey, we all have different motivators.

Also, I have an interview next week. In Pittsburgh. I don't even know what to say to myself let alone anyone else. It is on the 41st floor, though. Big change from working two floors underground. I'll let you know how it goes.

Duty calls.

My life was a model and I didn't even know it

So the funny thing is that remember the meds my doc gave me so I can prevent an early controllable demise? Yeah, well guess who is jumpy as hell and has been 'organizing' the same space for three days? HiManiamynameisLiVEwiRerememberme? Ofcourseyoudoaswearewell acquaintedandgobackmanyyears! Itskindoffunnyhowweranintoeachother
thistimeisntit? Imeanmydocactuallymadeithappen. SonowIcansitupall
nightponderingeverythingintheuniversebutitshouldbeokbecauseIhave youforcompanyandwecantalkallallallallallnight! Yayyyy! {insane clapping of hands}

I mean really, what suicide prevention tactic school did this guy attend?! Think about it. So you have a girl (I'm ageless...) with compulsions and the potential for obsessive behavior on a regular day that happens to swing her hips to the dance of bipolarity. Life sucks, things are grim and she has suicidal ideation (really a 180 for the girl, very out of character). Her meds are alright but still, something is wrong. Hey wait, I know!! Let's give her some antidepressants so it can boost her so far that she goes through the roof and turns manic. Fabulous. Now this way she won't just slam her car into a bridge overpass but she'll wash and hand wax it, decorate it with streamers, light some molatov cocktails, in gorgeous symmetry of course, and fasten them to her car so she really goes out with a bang! Of course prior to that she'll fasten a number of balloons on the giant concrete pillar in concentric circles by color with a prize chart listed according to which balloon the car smashes into - most likely she'd fashion a ramp out of spare parts from highway trash to boost her up to the red bullseye level from a nice, high speed. See...bad idea to make me manic with meds. And it will take longer to get the mania of my system. What in the hell was he thinking?

Anyway, so I'm done with the school. The director told me he wanted me to stay the extra week or two that I'd offered to train the new person. Well, there was not one word. He didn't tell the staff. He didn't so much as tell me to piss off. It was just as if the next day would be business as usual. So let me understand - I give notice on August 2, solidify my date of September 13 a week and a half later, then offer to stay another week or two and somehow manage to come out as the bad guy?! WHAT?! I don't feel good about it because I'm uncertain what will happen if I need them for a reference. On the other hand I'm glad I'm done with it. That has to be one of the strangest groups of people that ever lived.

So my life was a model.... for the movie Kill Me Later and I had no idea all along. You should see it - good dark comedy. Follow it up with Very Bad Things. Good times.

Here we have the latest nail art... contradictory words/images for a bipolar gal, fitting, eh? I do admit to adding the fake shiny gem thingys... Ok Ginger Doll - your turn! I'll even share my little skulls with you!

Ok, now stop staring at the crazy girl. ;)

~

Mah Nellz

Here's a little explanation that might mean nothing to you in the scheme of things but it may disspell myths and let you know a little more about why I'm been so absent/sporadic of late.

• I no longer have privacy; I'm actually rather protective of you all and don't want your stuff sitting on the screen waiting to be seen by someone for whom it was not intended. Which is idiotic because all of out stuff is out there for everyone to see. Thing of it is, you get to know a person to a certain extent and become protective. Or maybe I don't want them seeing my comments to you. Either way, if I could pee around the perimeter of my pc and mark it as my territory that would suit me just fine.


• One of the reasons I don't have much privacy is that although I'm not fully on 'suicide watch', I should be. The doc gave me an Rx and a month to get my shit together. How exactly does one 'get together' the urge to drive over a bridge? Anyway, I don't think they have frappuccinos in the psych ward so I'd rather not go.


• Lots of time is spent sitting and reading. I'd knit but no fool would trust me with knitting needles. That and I don't know how to. Living amid chaos it's so important that I stay calm. I very recently had an episode where if my blood pressure would have gone much higher, they'd have taken me out on a stretcher. I've never had an elevated blood pressure and considering that it has not fully retreated to it's norm, I'm working on being mellow. Failing mostly, but working on it. Oh, and I've been doing my nails. Ha. That sounds so girly. But I put my time and effort into coming up with different color schemes and patterns and it is a nice distraction. Yes, those are my real nails in a chrome, disco-ball-glitter-pink, and black color palette.

• In a matter of weeks, both jobs will be gone and I'll have just a part time one with no insurance. Major. Source. Of. Stress.


• In reference to that part time job, I'm out of town and away from my pc for three days each week, typically. No house of my own, no job of my own, living here, staying there throughout the week. Any wonder I feel lost?


• Not to mention the fact that I was supposed to be out of here and not living another deadly winter here. I see the first signs of the seasonal changes and fight off panic attacks. If I see a snowflake I'm sure I'll spontaneously combust.

So it's not that I've forgotten about anyone; far from it. I'm just being pulled in so many directions and not having a pc half the time is really cramping my style. (I have style?!) As soon as I can I want to get back to visiting everyone regularly and having the time to leave comments. Perhaps even post more than once every 10 days, or whatever I've been doing.

Hope everyone is doing well... miss ya

Nothin' but the dawg in me

I was not about to waste my limited time on my pc writing about M. Vick and this insanity revolving around the dog fights for which he appears to be fully responsible. I say 'appears' because isn't that our way - innocent until proven guilty? Well, fine. I'll play. But his situation isn't what this post is about. I will say that I think he deserves to have his testicles removed via his nostrils, though. Along with anyone that gets a friggin boner watching that mess. I'm all for everyone having their own opinions but in this case, not on my blog. I don't care to hear anyone defend that individual or his behavior or his 'sport'. My blog, my rules.

That being said, I want to point out to you that I do actually have, well, a point. M. Vick had, up until recently, been seen as a young, healthy, attractive, athletic, successful sports figure. He was an inspiration to many and a hero to some. I guarantee he was the guy alot of 'armchair quarterbacks' wanted to be. Perhaps until now.

Completely separate from fame, success or wealth, there are always those people that seem to exemplify what we want; who we want to be. Who we gauge ourselves against and feel we fall short of measuring up to. The ones we are embarrassed to say have no similarities to ourselves.

Point is, maybe it's a good thing there are no similarities. Anyone can portray a role. It is called acting. Acting can hide that dark side with an almost impenetrable veil. It's there, we just don't see it. And here we sit glorifying these people when in some cases, they deserve to be vilified.
We needn't be shocked when we learn these thing. The 'haves' are just as susceptible as the 'have nots'.

Don't fool yourself kiddies. Think for yourself. People are not always who you think they are; they are who they want you to think they are.

The boy come home

It's not that I haven't read the comments, it's that I haven't been able to properly reply. But I thank you for writing them. It's been a little tough lately and this moment is no different.

Yesterday was spent en route to a funeral home in Pennsylvania. My cousin met with a tragic end and I wanted to be there for the family. He was diabetic and apparently his blood glucose levels dropped to a dangerous level. While he was driving. He lost consciousness and went head to head with a coal truck and lost. It took the ever-popular 'jaws of life' two hours to untangle the mess and extract him. *They had to actually use a cap to keep his skull in one piece when transferring him. At least that means he went quickly.

That's why I chose this name for the blog. Things change that quickly. Although I hate being reminded, we all need to be from time to time. I'll get back to you later on the rest of things. For now, I have so much to consider.

For the record, Pat was one of the truly good guys. When people say "Guys like that don't exist anymore", they just didn't know him. He was a wonderful blend of kindness, integrity, loyalty and so much more.


* His brother is a funeral director in the area and spoke with the coroner/police/medical examiner and relayed the information to the family. None of that is supposition.

In and out of consciousness, neither is much fun

Hmmm. Ok then. I have my CD. I also have Matthew Good concert tickets on the way. That is my new goal, October 5th. I think I can manage two months. Then again this is coming from someone who by all rights should be on suicide watch. Kind of sick but I think I place a higher value on seeing him than I do on my own existence. Or lack of existence. No plans, just saying that if something were to happen I wouldn't go out of my way to change the course, you know? I just have to buy Sour Cherry lipstick first. (You won't get that.) And see Matt Good.

Other news? Severely pinched nerve for a week; infuckingtense pain, ongoing. As soon as the papers come through it's official that I lost my job at the hospital because of my knee surgery. I quit at the school, I just haven't given a specific date. Had an out of state job presented but it keeps slipping away. Cousin in the hospital; major surgery, cancer suspected. Off for more neurological/
mitochondrial testing. Oh yeah, and I'm nuts. Meh, what are you gonna do about it?

If I crawl out of this hole, I'll visit you. I'm headed toward becoming a hermit that comes out yearly and communicates by thumping a stick or something. If I surpass my expiration date.

FYI: Let it be known that I'm still predominantly anti-serif.

My vow

I will live long enough to hear this.

It ships out of Canada tomorrow. Receiving this will be like fitting the square peg in the square hole. As long as I have the time to soak this in, I don't care what happens after that.

Hospital music. Kind of ironic. His healing is just in time for my unraveling.

Elton John had no friggin clue

Saying 'the bitch is back' is an understatement akin to saying Noah built the ark on a slightly damp day. For real.

My nastiness is out and I can't reel it in. Mainly because I don't want to; I want to let people know exactly what I think of them. I'm tired of catering to theoretically capable people who must struggle daily to remember how to tie their shoes or buckle their pants. I'm always coddling and reassuring and explaining. At this point I'm just more comfortable saying, "Look, you fell because you're too fucking stupid to remember how to tie your shoes and if, IF you manage to do it, it's such a pathetic attempt that it ends in disaster and you have no one to blame because I've guided you a thousand times. Learn to be a grown up for chrissakes and put on your big-boy pants."

Why isn't it a crime to be a lazy, intentionally inept fool that wants everything handed to them then turns around and criticizes those of us that actually try to help their sorry asses?!?! What? Oh yeah - half of the world would be found guilty. Dumb fuckers.

I'm guessing I'm not going to win alot of congeniality awards.