Evidently, I Belong On The Short Bus.

I submitted my blog for review at IT2M. They say in their blog title that they're rude, but I didn't expect them to be that rude.

Here's my revew by "Sassy Sadie":

2. I Will Not Eat The Darkness

Whoa. What did I drink last night? Am I still hung over? What time is it? Pass the bong, please. I just have to point out right here and now that this line at the bottom of the blog made me spit coffee out of my nose. And for that, fingers

(here I got an icon they call "the golden finger", which they say is "self-explanatory". Doesn't everyone who puts original stuff on the internet for all to veiw not want their stuff to be used without their permission? Maybe it's just me. I don't know.)

"The artwork in the header, footer and background of this page is original and done by myself. It is copyrighted and may not be reproduced or used in any form or fashion without my express written permission."

Are you fucking serious? Do you think anyone would ever want to steal any of that “artwork?” Untrained monkeys can make better “artwork” than that. The header graphic has to be (and I am not joking here when I say it) the worst crap I have ever seen on the internet. I don’t think I could even try to make anything uglier. Holy shit. Did you close your eyes and make it? Apparently you’ve just “fixed” it recently? Yeah, well, you’d better stop fixing it because you’ve fixed it to death. Just. Stop.

I tried and I could not get into the content. There are a bunch of “participation” entries like Thursday Thirteen and Wordless Wednesdays and shit. Lotta, lotta posts about coffee and making coffee. Righty-o. The blog was all over the place even in the entries. I guess because I’m not “loca” (her word, not mine) that I just don’t get it. I don’t really care.

I give it a

(I got an icon that is basically the "short bus". You know the one that the developmentally disabled kids have to ride to school. Evidently, according to their key, it means that I'm a "fucking tard".)

based solely on that template and “artwork.”

I've met some people in my life who like to put others down to make themselves feel better. I've also met some people who just get off on getting offended. It's like they have all this anger and don't know where to direct it, so they just sling it around haphazardly.And then again, some people just like being rude, but you have to wonder where that comes from. Maybe I'm too analytical about people's personalities, but I think about stuff like that all the time.

I'm not making any judgements here because, obviously, I don't know any of the reviewers on that site personally. That's the vibe I got, though. I felt it was a bit harsh, but I did submit my blog willingly. It's not like anyone twisted my arm or anything and I was summarily warned beforehand.

I can admit that my header is not the best, but it's the first one I've ever done. As for the background and footer images, I rather like them. These fractals are the first thing I've ever done that I consider worthwhile (Also, I've been writing poetry since I was 14. I consider that a form of artwork and I'm rather protective and sensitive about that too. I'm only glad that "Sassy Sadie" didn't take a jab at the poetry I wrote concerning my brother David's death. Talk about my being sensitive about that considering he just died in July. Maybe I should develop a thicker skin in regards to that sort of thing.) and I guess I was a little taken aback by her opinion. Not everyone likes the same thing, so I should have been prepared for that I suppose. When you get down to "brass tacks", so to speak, this blog expresses my personality. The good parts, the bad parts and the boring parts. So, it's probably a good thing that "Sassy Sadie" and I don't know each other in real life because I don't think we'd understand each other very well.

So, anyway, the last time I checked, so far I've had 62 hits to my blog today (that may not seem like much to some, but it is to me) and it's only 10am, so to "Sassy Sadie": Thanks for sending readers my way.



Dream A Little Dream, But Make Sure You Change The Shit Box.

I feel:: hungry

On Friday last, I was supposed to have a meeting with my Spanish professor, but I woke from a dream of my grandfather. He wasn't doing anything to me, but I kept seeing him walking around in various forms of undress. It unnerved me. It is an understatement to say that I "woke up on the wrong side of the bed". I couldn't get the images out of my mind and I wanted to call my mom to ask her how Daddyboy dressed normally because I only remember him being dressed in a robe and his leather house slippers. I thought, though, that if I did talk to her about him at that time I mostly likely would wind up having another panic attack. I can't even describe how much I hate those. So, I tried to push it away like I did the last time I had a dream about my grandfather. Needless to say, that tactic is not very successful.

The first thing I do in the morning after I wake up and after y'know the morning pee, is make coffee. That morning after I made coffee and fed my cats I had to change out their litter box. This is something that I intensely dislike to do, but I love my cats. (You know, I bet even Martha doesn't dig around in cat boxes. Is she even a real person? Who has time to make all that bullshit anyway?) Anyway, I have one of those automatic kitty boxes that scoops itself. Y'all have seen those, right? You have to buy these plastic bins and covers for them because that's where the icky goes. Then, when it's full, you change the plastic bins instead of having to dig around in the shit, piss and litter. Still, it's not a perfect system. In my perfect system, the cats would be potty-trained. It's still messy and stinky, although less messy and stinky than it was before. I still hate doing it.

Moving on...

I was changing the bin and attempting to put the cover in the slots where it goes in the lid (there's two holes and the cover has two little thingys you have to punch through the holes in the lid). It's supposed to stay on, but lately the damn things have been falling out of the holes. On this particular morning, I had to go through 3 lids and they still kept falling out. Already in a pissy mood, this just pushed me over into frustrated-and-slamming-things territory. Then, of course, my dad yelled at me because I was slamming things around. I almost said something really snarky to him, but I kept my mouth shut.

I couldn't get the dream out of my head and I couldn't really do anything except sit in my bigcomfychair with my hands over my face (I had washed them. I'm kinda gross, but not that gross.). So, I had to call my professor and reschedule my appointment with him. I could tell he wasn't happy. I didn't know what else to do. I mean, it's not like I could call him and say, "Hey I just had this crazy dream about my grandfather who molested me for 10 years. Can we postpone our meeting 'till Monday?" People really don't like to hear that kind of thing, even if they say they want to. Also, it's not something you just blab about, you know? (I realize I'm contradicting myself, because I am "blabbing" about it on here, but....I really don't know what I'm trying to say, so I'll just stop.)

I keep trying to remember things about my grandfather, but I just get little slivers of glimpses. My close friends tell me that I'll remember when I'm emotionally ready to remember. My psychiatrist says the same or that I may never remember. I hate having that huge hole in my life.

Thus ends my story of how I changed the kitty box.


Click&Comment Monday

I feel::like I'd rather be completely asocial and sit at my computer all day fooling around with the HTML/CSS and design of my new blog. I guess I'll go to class, though. I am paying for it, after all. Jeez, I haven't even finished my coffee yet. That irritates me. Y'all know how much I love coffee.

Ok, I'm going to try C&C Monday again even though I said I wasn't going to. What can I say? I like the headers. I'm going to have to make some cuz y'know I'm creative like that.

Here's how this works: If I had a renter, you'd click on that and leave them a comment, then click on their renter or someone on their blogroll and leave them a comment. Since I don't have a renter yet this week, I encourage you to browse through my blogroll (there are some very interesting people on there) and leave them a comment and so on and so forth. I'm adding Mr. Linky's Magical Widgets below, so when you come by, leave your name and addy in the boxes provided, then leave me a comment. When I get back from class this afternoon, I'll come by your page, read/dig around a bit and leave you a comment.

Traditionally, everyone hates Mondays. Myself included. This is a way to make Mondays more fun. Something to look forward to, you might say. It's a great way to meet new people and make new friends (and increase your readership).

All thanks go to Cat for hosting it. She's an amazing woman and I heartily encourage you to take some time to read her blog.

Oh yeah and HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! Don't forget to buy some Rolaids or Alka-Seltzer for the hearburn you'll have after sneaking too much of your kid's candy. ;-)



Thursday Thirteen #3

I feel:: hopeful

Thirteen Things about Anias Nin

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

1. The other day my dad accused me of talking quietly on purpose to make him think that he was losing his hearing. Yeah, sure Dad. You know, now that I think of it, it's kind of a good idea. It would be a good pay-back for him making me lose my mind.

2. On Monday my Spanish professor told me that I should drop his class because he was "concerned" about me and the fact that I've been absent some from the class. He also said that he feels that I'm behind the other students and that he wouldn't let me go on to another Spanish class without first having the skills from this one. As if being on my period wasn't enough, it was raining and I had forgotten my umbrella. I showered that morning. I shaved my legs. I shaved my armpits. I plucked my eyebrows. I was having a good day. Count it: The second time I have ever totally gone off on one of my professors. (Thank God I had taken my Klonopin that morning.) I started talking really fast and the more I talked the louder my voice got. By the time I was finished, my professor looked like he'd had his hair blown back. The only thing he said was, "Well, don't miss any more classes." Yesterday, in class, he was all smiles and could have won for Mr. Congeniality. I guess he thought I was just meek and would never stand up for myself. I tried to tell him at the beginning of the semester that I'm loca.

3. Also on Monday, I went shopping! Retail therapy rules! I bought a pair of black and white, Zebra striped, fuzzy, Converse sneakers. They were on sale for $20. I freakin' love them.

4. After my little temper flare up with my Spanish professor, I walked to my car trying unsuccessfully not to cry. I mean, who wants to totally lose it in public? I have before, but God, it's embarassing. I got to my car, hyperventilated, cried and then drove over to where Tanya works for coffee. What's different about this is that normally, I would have just gone home. I was really wanting to cut and I knew if I went home that I would. So, I went for coffee and wound up talking to Tanya and Sally, which was also the day of the Almighty Converse purchase[insert Hallelujah chorus here]. So, it turned out to be a good day with just a little shit on it. Not enough that I couldn't wipe it off with some Lysol antibacterial wipes.

5. I'm thinking about going to Celebrate Recovery tonight at the church I've been going to lately, Mercy's Cross. It was so weird on Monday (on the way for coffee) when I called there, I was thinking, "I'll just ask for Pastor Randy." I didn't have to, though, because he answered the phone. Alot of "coincidences" like that have been happening ever since I started going there. I feel like the soundtrack of my life for the past few months should have been, 'Maybe God Is Trying To Tell You Something'.

6. I had to take Dad in yesterday morning at 6:30am for a colonoscopy and an upper G.I. I have no idea why they call that "Upper G.I." It makes me think of the movie 'Full Metal Jacket'. I have no idea why that is either. Anyway....ever heard a chorus of farts? Hang out in the recovery room of your local Gastrointerologist's office. I guarantee you'll come out of there laughing like Beavis and/or Butthead. I did.

7. I keep waiting for the pupeteer to come out from behind Bush and say, "Psych!" and then laugh maniacally like Charles Manson.

8. One day, this last weekend, I woke up and went about my normal morning routine. Part of my routine includes making coffee. Now, I've got this routine down-so down that I can perform it while awake or asleep. Evidently, that morning, I was still asleep. I made the coffee and then realized that I had no creamer for it. Ok, y'all that know me know I like a little coffee with my creamer. I cannot drink coffee without creamer and some kind of non-sugar sweeter (notthepinkstuffnotthepinkstuffnotthepinkstuffnotthepinkstuff). While cursing to myself, I began to look around the kitchen for some kind of suitable substitute. Dad's milk: Definite no. First of all, you never know if the date is expired and secondly I'm allergic to milk. It makes me all snotty. Like that's something I need more of. Thankyouno. You know how when you're looking for something in the kitchen, you have to go through every cabinet umpteenmillion times even though you know that nothing in them has changed? Sometimes, I even open the cabinet doors and just stand in the middle of the kitchen and stare at their contents thinking maybe if I wish hard enough that what I want will just materialize. On this particular morning, I was in the midst of doing this very thing when my eye fell on something I hadn't noticed before: instant French Vanilla Cappuccino. I thought to myself, "That stuff already has creamer in it. I'll just use that." So, along with my Vanilla Biscotti coffee, I dumped four spoonfulls of instant French Vanilla Cappuccino in my coffee cup and stirred it around. It didn't come out the nice milky color that I prefer, but I thought it was better than nothing. I was spun out of my fucking mind for about 12 hours. I felt like I had inhaled a large amout of Meth. Holy Shit. I fucking wiped the walls of my house clean with antibacterial wipes because in addition to the creepy-crawlies I felt on my scalp, I was sure that they had to be on the walls too. Lesson: Always keep coffee creamer handy.

9. Tuesday nights and Friday nights have become my don'tfuckingtalktomeI'mwatchingmyshows tv nights. They're all on Sci-Fi. Yeah. It's a cult I'm sure of it. (Dead Like Me, Eureka, Dr. Who, Heroes...)

10 I feel like my medicine is working and I'm not even at the dosage I'm supposed to be yet. It makes me wonder if, when I finally get there, what I'll feel like. I'm already laughing more, which feels incredibly good. I can't even describe. I'm still down a lot, but not as down. So...moving on....

11. The morning I took Dad for his anal invasion and after he had been taken away by the invaders, I left and went to Starbuck's. I bought a John Mayer cd. I kind of like it. It's bluesy, not emo, like he usually is.

12. While sitting at Starbuck's that morning I got to thinking about how old I am and that it won't be too much longer before I'll have my sacred, exit-only orifice be violated by the dreaded colonoscopy. Which, in turn, got me to thinking how much shorter a time it is before I'll have to make appointments to regularly and willingly put my tits in a vice. Jesus, and I thought the Gyno was bad. I hope they have a bowl full of good drugs next to the suckers at the reception counter.

13. I saw this girl I know from school at school the other day. She always makes me laugh. I don't know what it is about her. All she has to do is just stand there and I somehow find it extremely amusing. Anyway, when I ran into her the other day, the first thing she said was, "You've lost weight!" I said, "You really think so?" She said, "I'm lookin' atcha, aren't I?" I laughed, of course.



Going Door-to-Door

I feel:: hopeful. It's kind of a weird feeling. Not weird-bad.

I have a wonderful new renter this week 'Forward-And-Share'! So go dig around the site and see what you find!

To be quite honest, I haven't really figured out what it's all about yet, but I like puzzles, so I keep going there and clicking links. It's all very interesting. Seriously, the more links you click the more links there are to click. It's never-ending!

Quote of the Day~ "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like!"~John Cleese as the Pope-Monty Python skit



I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore, Toto

I feel:: pensive

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Cyndi Lauper~Fearless

I had a long conversation today with the husband of the couple who took me in off the street, whom I lived with for a year and eventually became part of their fledgling ministry: Sold Out. I've talked ad nauseum about Sold Out before, so I won't dredge that up, but suffice it to say, he gave me some things to think about. In any case it was really comforting to talk to him. I think that's the most I've talked in any of our conversations ever. I've got some thinking to do and I'm afraid...again. Sometimes (a lot of times) it seems like I live my life in fear. I wish I were braver.

~I will not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will let it pass over me and through me. When it has gone I will turn my inner eye to trace its path. Where the fear has been there will be nothing. Only I will remain.



I Keep Switching The Channel But My Memories Are On Them All

Mi Amor Para Ti No Esta Muerto
(My Love For You Is Not Dead)

How can I have touched your skin
How can I have kissed your lips
felt your breath on my cheek
laid my head on your chest and listened to your voice reverberate,touch my soul
How can I have smelled your hair
held your hand
laughed with you
watched movies in the dark with you
walked with you
memorized every line, crease and movement of your face
How is it that you can be gone?
How am I supposed to fill this gaping bleeding hole inside of me?
I can't even drive by the place where you lay without feeling that familiar emptiness
Only now, it's so much keener and
I'm afraid
of the pain.
I'm sure, that were I to go to you, all the love and all the pain I feel will overflow and spill out uncontrollable.
I just can't go to that place.
There are too many sharp rocks to climb
and they keep multiplying.

I hear your voice in my mind sometimes
and it is then that I wish
and wish
and wish
in my small, selfish and vain way
that you were really here with me
not laying silent in your grave.



Mostly Informational (And One Zit)

I feel pretty good today despite the fact that I have a zit right on the inside of my left nostril. Do y'all ever get those? Trust me. It hurts and every time I sneeze my eyes water so much it looks like I'm crying.

Ok, so I didn't post the links from the others who had bid to be my renter after I got home from class yesterday. Oops. I took a long nap and then I watched "Heroes". You know, I'm not really much for tv in general, but I like that show.

So, anyway: Presenting the good folks who bid to be my renter this week. Please don't take it personal that I didn't choose your blog. I appreciate all of the interest and it was so unbelievably hard to choose just one! Please bid again! These are all just great blogs.

1. Kitten Cult
2. Nature's Wallpaper
3. A Unicycling Materialistic Minimalist
4. Discuss It
5. Paddy's Place of Prattling
6. CoolAdzine for Marketers
7. Women Diary
8. My So-Called Ramblings
9. Rocky Jay-A Series of Unfortunate Blog Incidents
10. One Man Bandwidth
11. Jottings From Jersey

I don't think I'm going to do Click&Comment Monday any more. I just don't get any responses to it, usually. Maybe it's selfish of me. Maybe I'm just a comment whore. In any case, that's that and there a'int n'more to it.

Running off to class again...

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Pimpage. Where's My Gin and Juice?

I feel:: amazingly well and stable today; I hope it lasts for the rest of the day.

Pimpin' My Renter
If y'all haven't noticed, I have a great new renter this week, The Great Blog Review. Go check them out and see what awesome blogs they've reviewed. I guess I should submit mine then, hmmmm?

Incidentally, I don't have time to do it right now, but I'll post later thanking all the people who bid on my blog this week to become my renter and I'll put a link to everyone of their blogs on that post. It's only fair I think.



Oy. Dios Mio!

I feel:: shaky; Like a dumbass I didn't take any of my meds today and only just realized it a few minutes ago.

My picture host server recently moved to another server "to better maintin customer quality" or something like that. So, I'm having to replace the header, footer and background images.

Bear with me while my blog looks a bit funky for a bit. It seems this week is not the week that the universe likes me. I guess we all have those weeks. Right?

Insanity shall once again commence as soon as I've had a serious talk with the HTMl/CSS Blogger Template. Oh yes, much finger pointing shall ensue.

EDIT: Ok. Fixed. Sort of. You can view it correctly now either in FF or IE with the sidebar showing where it's supposed to be (not underneath the post body like it was before in IE). I changed the "visited" links color and it's showing up in FF, but not in IE. Oh well, I guess that's a minor thing. I don't know why it's not showing up because I put in the correct HTML color code in the right place. It's mind-numbing, isn't it?

So, the momentary drama is over- talk amongst yourselves or to yourself, whichever you prefer.



Thursday Thirteen #2

Thirteen Things about Anias Nin

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

1. I ate beans yesterday. So, this morning I'm...ahem...musical. So musical, in fact, that I've musicalled myself out of my own room a couple of times. It's at these times that I'm glad I'm not married or living with someone because....whoa, just whoa.

2. I'm kind of itchy all over today and I'm hoping that it's not because of the Lamictal. I so want to be able to take it and to be able to tolerate it. I'm going to get a refill of my allergy meds today, so maybe they will help with the itchiness.

3. I'm supposed to have a test in my College Math class today, but since I have missed the last two classes (it only meets twice a week), I won't be taking it. I started to freak out a little bit, but then I re-read the syllabus. It turns out that there are 5 tests this semester when I thought there were only going to be three and the prof. said that the final could replace the missed test. So, yay.

4. When I woke up this morning, Mija my notorious-monster-cat, was sitting on top of my black armoir on his hind legs, swatting with his front paws into thin air. As I became more awake I realized what he was looking at. The ceiling fan. He was trying to catch the ceiling fan.

5.I watched a movie on The Family Channel last night that I actually liked. What does that say about me?

6.My eldest female cat, Silver, gets the stitches from her ear surgery taken out tomorrow. I am not looking forward to taking her to the vet, but I am glad she's getting the stitches out and that no infection has developed where the stitches are. I feel kind of weird with her in the carrier in the car. She hates it, cries and I try to comfort her. The thing is, I wind up saying the same things over and over and over again. The most inane things come out of my mouth when I take the cats to the vet like,"Whatcha doin' in there?", or repeatedly saying, "I know." in a sympathetic tone after every vocalization they make. At least she doesn't pee and then sling it around like Little Bit does. The last time I took him to the vet, I wound up having to clean pee off the inside of my windshield. Is there such a thing as Kitty Valium? If there is, I should definitely get some.

7. I deleted my Myspace account the other day in a moment of anger. How I could be angry at a website is beyond me, but there you have it. I guess I just got tired of all the flashing adverts, the "am I hot or not" rating thingys and the mind-bogglingly enormous amount of genuinely shallow (we're talking less than puddle deep) people on there.

8. I found a cd in one of my desk drawers last week that was Classical Guitar music. I opened it up and it turned out to be a CDRW that my mom had made for me three years ago for my birthday or something. I'd never listened to it. So, I uploaded it to my computer. I'm listening to it now and I like it alot, but just now, it's making me want to go back to bed. It's like my computer is singing me a lullaby. And also, I feel really guilty for not listening to the cd sooner.

9. I bought the X-Men Trilogy (X-Men, X-Men-United and X-Men-The Last Stand) about 3 days ago and I think I've watched all of the movies about 5 or 6 times each since then. I think my inner-child is showing. I can't wait for more X-Men movies.

10. I've also been coloring (with real crayons in real coloring books) in my Winnie the Pooh and Sponge Bob Square Pants coloring books. Now I remember why I liked to color so much as a child. It makes me feel calm and the smell of the crayons almost makes me flashback to childhood. Not that my childhood was particularly pleasant, but the crayons always were.

11. I just blew another masterpiece. (Note to self~ Get some Bean-O.)

12. I realized the other night while watching "Real Sex-The Best of Real Sex" that I'd seen nearly all the episodes they were showing parts of. Then, I realized that I've been watching it ever since it came on HBO, which was in like 1992. Consequently, this made me feel like a dirty old lady.

13. Wow. I didn't think I could come up with thirteen today. But here we are-just the two of us. Speaking of "just the two of us", do y'all ever wake up singing bad 80's pop songs in your head or is it just me?

Lastly, but not leastly, a song for your listening pleasure. I told y'all I was musical today.

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Tension Is A Passing Note~ Sixpence None The Richer



Wordless Wednesday~For Those Who Like To Go With A View

Don't Mess With Me-I'm HTML/CSS. I Will Seriously Kick Your Ass.

I have gone and messed up my sidebar somehow, but I'm way, way too high on my meds to go about fixing it right now. Just FYI.

Besides I have to be up at 6am so I can go to Ther-a-pee.

~Note to self-Never try to look at long lines of code on Klonopin and Migraine meds. It makes the HTML/CSS all look smushed together like one big funky word.~

EDIT: I'm working on cleaning up my sidebar. We will now rejoin regular programming.



I Guess The Voices Are Speaking. They Just Snuck Up On Me Is All.

I feel:: like an insomniac

I realize with a very keen sight (even for myself) that this being depressed-all-the-time-shit is getting really old. So old, in fact, that it's growing moss. I know that to post something about my self-destructive-ness/depression/suicidal ideations in every post is b-o-r-i-n-g.

The thing is, I can help it just now. I have this physical ache right in the middle of my sternum like something is pressing down on me. In turn, this makes me feel physically empty. Yes, my internal organs are all in place, but you know what I mean. Right? I can't be the only one who has ever felt this way. (Incidentally, logic tells me that I'm not alone, but that little depressed voice in my head is always there ready to tell me that no-you are all alone-an outsider looking in on those wonderfully normal people and you could never be that way no matter how hard you try-no matter what you do. I fucking hate that voice.)

I can't seem to even begin to heal from David's death-he was my brother. I fucking miss fucking Marshall like he was a chocolate bar and I was premenstrual. It's taking every ounce of will power I have not to chase him down like some crazed fat lady in Wal-Mart at 5am looking for a chocolate fix. I am a glutton for punishment. I AM IN LOVE WITH A MAN WHO NEVER COMMUNICATES WITH ME. Holy shit. He's just like my dad.He even has an old, beat up recliner that he falls asleep in while watching football. Oh God, he is my dad. Oedipus complex anyone? I seem to have enough to go around. Just leave the Freudian slip at the door when you come in. (The Masochist wants permission to say "Hi." So there. Hi. Go away.)

I did start new meds about a week and a half ago and I felt better for a few days, but now I'm back to where I was before. I'm taking only 25mg of Lamictal right now (Remember I mentioned that blistery rash if the dosage is upped too fast?), which is not even considered a therapeutic dose. I won't be into the therapeutic dosages until sometime next week- 50mg-that's for another two weeks. Then 100mg for two weeks, then I'll go up to 250mg/day, which is what my psychiatrist wants me on.

God, I hope this medicine works. A few hours earlier, I was standing in the kitchen getting something to drink and had this overwhelming urge to check out Dad's knife he got in Korea because I remembered that I had seen him sharpening it the other day. So, after staring at it for what seemed like aeons, I picked it up and decided to test out how sharp it was-on myself. Turns out it's not very sharp. Guess Dad's been out dulling the knives on the trees in the back yard when I'm not home. It's extremely hard to imagine him doing that, though. Too much energy expenditure. I mean, why do that when he can sit in his recliner and fall asleep watching football?

I can't sleep, again. And this time, amazingly, I'm not having entire conversations with different Spanish people in my head. What's weird is that there are no voices going on right now. I have tried to keep myself pretty occupied all day because I woke up feeling really achey this morning. Could be why the voices haven't been very locquacious today. I've cried a couple of times today and I've actually laughed, but I haven't left the house since Wednesday (The Pan-Dimensional Hoochie Coochie Day).

Here comes the gross part: I haven't showered in like two weeks. Well, since the time I colored my hair, which was like Thursday before last I think.

You know, just between you and me, I'd really, really like to be able to maintain basic care of myself. For some reason, right now, I can't do it on a regular basis. I do manage the Ho-bath, though. Y'all know what I'm taking about, right? I don't have to explain that? And I do manage to brush my teeth every day. So, I guess I'm semi-gross. Or I could just be in denial, which it seems lately I'm seeing more and more of in myself.

The last time I talked with my therapist, the Wednesday before last, he mentioned in passing that I might need in-patient care. That really scares me. I don't want to be around a bunch of people who are crazier than me. I have enough trouble dealing with my own bullshit.




I feel:: achey as all hell

Dear David,
I miss you so much. Sometimes I think that if I could rip out my heart I might not miss you so much.

(David Summers R.I.P. 7/21/06)

Dear Marshall,
I wrote you a letter last year and told you that I loved you. I still do. I want so just to be near you, to talk to you...God just to smell you, but you have to come to me.I miss you so much, but I'm not going to try to get past your wall again. I beat myself bloody last time. My heart is open and laid bare. Just come to me. Jesus...(EDIT: Just in case anyone was wondering, I realize that this plea is pathetic. And the Jesus reference was more about "Jesus help me" than, y'know referring to Marshall as Jesus.I'm not delusional, I'm depressed. I know everyone is too smart for that, but you never know how things come across when you're not actually saying them.)

1 John 3:18-20
"Dear children, let us stop just saying we love each other; let us really show it by our actions. It is by our actions that we know we are living in the truth, so we will be confident when we stand before the Lord., even if our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything."



Pan-Dimensional Hoochie-Coochie

I feel:: drained from the crying jag I had last night, but generally alright

When y'all pour your coffee and doctor it up with creamer and such (I like a little coffee with my creamer and Splenda), do y'all taste it with a spoon before you actually take a drink? I do this for two reasons:
#1 I want to taste it to make sure it's acceptable for me to walk off with. I don't want to have to get all the way to my room, get comfortable and then realize that the coffee in my cup tastes like shit. I don't know about y'all, but I have to be gentle with myself in the mornings because I tend to be rather cranky.(I personally don't know how anyone can wake up in the morning and be singing "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious". Besides being supremely irritating, it's just my opinion that being asleep is much more preferrable than being awake. Again, my perceptions could be distorted, but I can't ever remember thinking any other way.) I don't want to have to leave my comfortable position, go back to the kitchen and play chemistry set with my cup of coffee.
#2 The reason for taking a little bit of the coffee in the spoon to taste is because I don't want to wind up with 3rd degree burns on my tongue. I'd like to keep my taste buds-thankyouverymuch.

So, in the process this morning of doctoring my coffee and performing the requisite tasting with the spoon and just as I was in the action of bringing said spoon to my mouth, a gnat unceremoniously landed right in the spoon-in my coffee. Yes, I was grossed out and for a split second thought about mentioning to my dad again about his odd habits of keeping only certain doors and windows open during the heat of the day while the air conditioner is working itself to an early death being set consistently on 72/73. But, I decided not to because I could just imagine that he would say something like the gnat had mentally transported itself from another dimension to land right in my coffee spoon (because gnats create themselves, remember?)

You know, it gives me a certain amount of satisfaction/relief to know that I'm not the most fucked up person in my family.

Speaking of fucked up
: In Spanish class the other day we were supposed to think of a story about our families to tell to the rest of the class. I thought to myself,"Ummm...which one do I tell? And which one will freak people out the least?" So, I wound up telling the class the story about my father's mother and how she worked in a traveling circus as a "hoochie-coochie" dancer, got pregnant at 16 in 1929 by a man who was at least twice her age (he was loaded) whom she met at one of her shows. He followed her and the circus for a long while and they had a torrid love affair. At least until Mr. I'mtooloadedtoknowwhattodowithallmymoney found out that she was pregnant. He disappeared. That is until after my dad was born and was about 3 years old. He came down here with his whole family and all his lawyers in tow and tried to get custody of my father. They evidently threw money around like it did grow on trees and even tried to bribe the judge presiding over their custody trial. Of course, you know, that didn't fly out here in Nowhere-ville. The judge told Mr. Loaded and his loaded family to get the hell out of Arkansas or he would have all of them arrested for bribery. So, they left and that was the last and only time my dad ever saw his father.

Pretty sad story, right? Well, according to my Spanish class it wasn't as sad as it was scandalous because when several of them asked me what a "hoochie-coochie" dancer was and I told them that my grandmother had basically been a stripper in a traveling circus-you would have thought I had just popped into a Missionary Baptist Church wearing red booty shorts, topless, complete with a set of horns and a tail.(Incidentally, the first time I went to a Missionary Baptist Church, I was wearing a red miniskirt and 4-inch red heels and I sat right in the front pew. I'm sure there were many conversations during and after service about how I was definitely on the short track to Hell. What can I say? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree-I had just gotten out of the stripper business myself. I thought the clothing was appropriate. Oh well.) There was a moment of silence and then I felt the communal intake of breath and then heard the beginnings of nervous laughter, which only got louder. I sat in my chair alternately being embarrassed and angry, but the more I thought about it, the more angry I became. So, in a burst of Idon'tkonwwhatpossessedme, I blurted out, "Well, I could have told you one of the stories about how my mother's father used to force me to give him blow jobs when I was 5. Do y'all think that's a better story?"

At that moment, I heard the professor say, "Class dismissed."

Yes, I am not the most fucked up person in my family and evidently not in my Spanish class either. So yay me.



Wordless Wednesday


Psychology In (And Of) The Men's Restroom

I feel:: mischievious

This is completely inappropriate and; therefore, completely hysterical.