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.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
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.
Carry on.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
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
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
Thursday, December 06, 2007
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.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, November 26, 2007
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?
*sigh* what is there to say?
Thursday, November 15, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, November 09, 2007
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
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
Monday, October 29, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
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
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
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, October 12, 2007
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.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
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?
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?
Monday, October 08, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
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!
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. ;)
~
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