NO PSYCHOS ALLOWED!!!

All I ask for from people who are in my life is a little non-psyho-ness. It seems as though I am a magnet for it, however. The guy I mistakenly had sex with a couple of weeks ago is getting all psycho on me. He calls me and tries to tell me things he said that he never did. Like he'll try to convince me we had a full conversation about something when I know for damn sure that we didn't. Tonight he called me and insisted that he asked me out for coffee yesterday and I refused. I haven't talked to him (other than tonight) since Sunday. I don't know what he's trying to do and he's freaking me out a little. (I kind of feel like he's trying to pull a "crazy" on the crazy girl. That's not going to work. Hello.) He's being a manipulative SOB; I know that for sure. I never should have gotten involved with him in any way.

What I want to know is this: What is it about me that makes guys turn psycho? Or are they already that way and I'm too blind to see it? This is not the first time some guy has gotten all weird. What's the deal? Is it my fault?

On a happier note, I have two interviews tomorrow for positions that are about 10 and 11 dollars an hour. It's not great money, but it's not bad money either. It's enough for me to support myself and that's really all I need. I feel like I need some security so that I can start feeling safe. Right now, safe is not the word I would use for the way I feel. I feel very un-safe. Unstable.

I'm also going to show my artwork to the lady at the local shop tomorrow, so maybe I'll have something positive to report on that front. That's really my dream is to make my living with my creativity. In whatever form it happens to come.

Goin' to bed.

My Latest Creation. Muahhahaha!

She is named (for now) 'Arms Of The Cold Sun'. I just finished her a few minutes ago.
(Click for a larger, more detailed view.)

Random Secret Sunday

Friday I quit my job because I was tired of putting up with their damn drama AND THEY BOUNCED MY PAYCHECK AND REFUSED TO ADMIT IT. So, it looks like I'll be in court pretty soon if they don't give me back my money plus the fees the bank charged. I was so mad Friday that I felt like I was going to literally pass out.

Saturday I pulled a half-inch long glass splinter out of the side of my middle finger. I think there's still some glass in there, but it's too deep for me to get out.

Lainie is still here even after I've asked her to leave. Twice. I keep wondering what it will take to make her leave. I don't want to get all psycho on her. That would be badbadbad.

I'm going to have a nervous breakdown.

But someone whom I love loves me and that makes me supremely happy. Happy enough to nearly blot out all of the other bullshit that is going on in my life. I know it will all be there tomorrow, but for right now I'm happy and I'm not going to take it (or him) for granted.

Random? Yes. True? Yesss...:

TGIF (No, Really)

"I'm not crazy,M'Lynn. I've just been in a very bad mood for forty years!"
~~Shirley Maclaine~Steel Magnolias

Fractal My Heart

Not one of my latest works, but one of my best. (Clicky clicky and it will get you a bigger version of this.)

Not Crazy Enough

So...I had somewhat of an emergency-type situation yesterday. Voices in my head...strong urge to self-harm...suicidal thoughts...overwhelming depression. I tried to take Kate's advice and have myself committed for a few days, but no one will take me because I have no insurance and because it wasn't determined that I was a significant enough threat to myself or others for the guys in the white jackets to come haul me away.

As of today, I've missed two days of work because of this. If I miss one more day I lose my job. My supervisor gave me a choice: I can either come back and not miss any more days until I'm eligible for sick time (which will not be for another couple of months) or she can let me go and label me as eligible for rehire. When I told her what was going on she got scared of me and now doesn't even want me to come back there. She's afraid that I'll sneak off somewhere and slice myself up or down some pills or something. I should never have told her anything. I'm fucked like I usually am.

I've been online all morning submitting resumes to various jobs, but this will happen again I guarantee it. It always does.

Tuesday Night Tunes

My favorite band: Blue October



(HRSA stands for High Risk Self Abuse)


My favorite girl: Tori Amos



Blue October again, but this time set to a clip art slide show. Not mine.

My Vowels Exploded

Frozen

I had sex the day before yesterday with someone I've known for almost two weeks and I absolutely positively hated it. He keeps trying to push himself into my life. What makes me angry with myself is that I made a promise to myself several years ago that I would never have sex again when I didn't want to. I could have stopped. I could have just gotten up and left, but I didn't. I just closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else. That's what I used to do when my grandfather would fuck me and it's also what I did during the times I was raped. I'm so awesomely good at dissociating. I was super uncomfortable afterwards and I wanted to bolt so badly, but every time I tried to leave he would try to pull me back into some kind of conversation by saying, "Wait, I have something to tell you, " or something similar to that. I was so tired and not too long after the first time I tried to leave I started crying, but he either didn't mind or didn't care. I tried to hold back the tears and I tried to explain to him that I just wanted to be alone. Needless to say, he didn't understand that one bit. I sound like I'm playing the victim. I feel like I'm playing the victim. I hate myself right now. I was going to write something like, "He had to know I didn't want to and that was tantamount to rape", but he didn't rape me. I just let him do whatever because I was tired, feeling unloved and just didn't have the balls to say no. Actually, though, now that I think about it I did say no at one point. I don't know. It's all very confusing in my head. I feel like shit and I beat one of my cats early this morning so hard that she peed on herself. I feel like I'm going out of control. I'm a terrible, terrible person. I've been thinking about cutting a lot today. I'm sorry if everything in this post is so random. I really can't think well today.

Secret Sunday

In Honor Of Valentine's Day...

I was going to do Wordless Wednesday, but I don't feel like being "wordless" today.





(This one is my favorite.)

Anger Management

I've figured out why I have to keep myself busy all the time: i.e. house cleaning, walking, grocery shopping, working all the time. It's because if I don't I have time to sit around and really think about and realize just how unhappy and angry I am. I don't like feeling unhappy and angry so I keep myself just busy enough to be to tired and literally too busy to think about it. I don't know if I'm running from my anger or if I'm just that scared to be angry.

I woke up frustrated as all hell this morning. Some of it was from the anger from last night. I don't know what the rest of it was. Maybe because it's Monday and I have to go back to work and talk to people who don't like me about why their cable isn't working. I'm not sure. I know that I really don't want to go in today, but what I want doesn't really matter, does it?

I happened to notice after I got up and started cleaning around my apartment (it's never ending around here what with my kitty posse) that my anger had dissipated somewhat and I didn't have such a strong urge to slice my arm open with the nearest sharp object. I get these disturbing images in my head when I'm like that. I can see myself cutting my skin; flaying myself open and enjoying it and then smearing blood all over the walls just to say, "Look at me!!! I'm in pain!!! I'm fucking angry as fuck!!!" I told one of my former psychiatrists about these visions and he told me it was an inner expression of unresolved anger. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out Oh Doctor Of Mine. The only reason I told him was that it really was bothering me and I thought he should know what was going on in my head since he was my psychiatrist. I wasn't expecting to get an answer that any Intro Psych student could have given me. I thought to myself after the appointment that day, "Damn, I don't have my degree yet and I knew that. What a dumbass." That was my last appointment with him. I may be crazy, but I know that I don't need anyone to "fix" me. I'm not broken like a child's toy. I just have trouble dealing with myself sometimes and sometimes I need a person to listen to me and to give me refills on psych meds.

A Few Things...

I AM SICK OF CATS THAT AREN'T MINE. I'M SICK OF CATS IN HEAT WHO KEEP ME UP ALL FUCKING NIGHT SO THAT I HAVE TO GO TO WORK ON ONLY A FEW HOURS SLEEP. I'M SICK OF FRIENDS WHO OUTSTAY THEIR WELCOME AND TALK DURING MOVIES JUST TO DRAW ATTENTION TO THEMSELVES. I'M SICK OF SELF-ABSORBED PEOPLE. I'M SICK OF PEOPLE WHO STAY WITH ME AND DON'T GIVE ME ANY MONEY TO HELP OUT. I'M SICK OF PEOPLE BLEEDING THEIR PERSONAL BULLSHIT ALL OVER ME AND THEN GOING OUT TO BE SELF-DESTRUCTIVE AGAIN ONLY TO THINK THEY CAN COME BACK AND BLEED ON ME AGAIN. I'M SICK OF SHARING MY PERSONAL SPACE WITH OTHER PEOPLE. I'M SICK OF BEING NICE WHEN I WANT TO BE A BITCH. I'M SICK OF HOLDING EVERYTHING IN BECAUSE I'M SUPPOSED TO BE NICE AND SUPPORTIVE AND ALL THAT BULLSHIT. I'M SICK OF LOVING PEOPLE WHO DON'T LOVE ME. I'M SICK OF BEING LIED TO. I'M SICK OF THINKING ABOUT SUICIDE EVERY FUCKING DAY. I'M SICK OF WANTING TO CUT ON MYSELF ALL THE GOD-DAMN TIME. I'M SICK OF LOOKING AT THIS FUCKING MESSY HOUSE. I'M SICK OF SMELLING CAT SHIT AND PISS. I'M SICK OF CLEANING THE COUCH CUSHIONS EVERY FUCKING WEEK. I'M SICK OF MY BED SMELLING LIKE CAT PISS AND HAVING TO CLEAN THE MATTRESS ALL THE DAMN TIME. I'M SICK OF BEING TOO EMBARRASSED TO HAVE SOMEONE COME INSIDE MY APARTMENT. I'M SICK OF BEING SCARED OF EVERYTHING. I'M SICK OF BEING FAT. I'M SICK OF ME.

Secret Sunday

I haven't done this in awhile, even though it's one of my faves.

Post Secret

It just so happens that I went out the other night with a friend of mine and asked her offhandedly,"Do you think I should wear my fake pony tail?" She looked at me quite seriously and said, "Yeah, I think it takes at least five years off of your face." I bought that pony tail, you know, just for kicks because I like to dress up sometimes. I like the way it makes me look. I also know that my friend didn't mean anything by saying what she did. She complimented me in a round-a-bout way. On the one hand, I appreciate that, but on the other hand...when I got home later that night and took the synthetic, straightned pony tail off I felt like I had just taken my beauty off. I felt like my hair, which is short and super super curly, was not beautiful and that I was not beautiful.

Every where I look all I see are women who have straight, shiny hair. Mine is curly, coarse and has a tendency to be dull looking because of it's coarseness. Even though I get a lot of compliments on it, I think privately that those women who say they want hair just like mine would never go for it because it would make them feel too different; too set apart from the rest of the herd. Sometimes, it's not bad to be a small part of a whole and I understand that dynamic. Other times, though, it's best just to be one's own self curly hair and all.

When I was a little girl, my mother used to spend hours working on my hair. She even gave herself blisters working the hair dryer to try to get my hair straight. For her efforts what she got was just a bunch of fairly straight, extremely coarse (more so because of the hair dryer), very unruly and very very big hair. All of my childhood pictures look like I'm wearing a grown-up wig. When I got to be in my twenties, I stopped trying to straighten my hair everyday simply because I just got tired of fighting with it. Still though, sometimes I wish I could be just like the majority of women with what one of my girlfriends calls "white girl Pantene hair". I guess it would be easier. I don't know. Maybe not.

My insecurities are screaming at me today. Can you tell?

Please Excuse The Mess!!

I've decided to revamp my blog and I'm having some trouble with the html for the background image to be the way I want it so I'm leaving it this way for now. I know it's uber-simple, but it's better than the way it would have looked if I had left the background image the way it was before. I shudder to think. So, ladies and gentlemen:

YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK.


EDIT 2/08/08: I've been working on this for several hours and have finally gotten it, in the main, looking like I want. Although, the header is still a bit off center. I'm going to leave that for another day, though. For now, I hope no one's spacial centeredness is too offended.

P.S.

I Always Thought Not Being Average Was Something To Be Proud Of

I've run into a couple of different walls in my apartment today. As weird as it sounds, I do it nearly every day and not with like....my elbow or some other part of my body that one would normally associate with bumping into walls and it's not like I'm super clumsy either. I run into walls with my breasts. You know that saying, "You know you're 'insert body part here' is (are) too big when...

I've been thinking about that ever since I got home and had to hold one or the other of my breasts while cursing in pain. At first I was cursing them as well. I really don't like breasts and I'm not trying to titilate here or be pornographic. I just don't like them. Mine, I mean. Then, I thought about the fact that my body takes up more than the average amount of space and then realized that I don't hate just my breasts. I hate the fact that my entire body takes up so much space. Also, does taking up space equal taking power? Am I afraid to be smaller because smaller means weaker? You know, I'm afraid of a lot of things, but I really never thought I might be afraid of being physically smaller. I always thought that was something I wanted. This is Psych 101, right? I know, deep thoughts for a gal with a Psych degree (and gosh darnit people like me...).

I know a woman who is so proud of her bigness and the simple fact that she does take up space and that she does eat. I aspire to have that mindset. I think maybe once I'm not so afraid of my own body, I might not be so afraid of the rest of the world. Sound like a good idea? If anyone has any suggestions for me on which way I could direct myself to start on the path of loving my non-average body, I would lovelovelove to hear them.

My best friend bought me a some Buddhist prayer beads that are made into a bracelet and I have started wearing them every day. Whenever I get stressed, insecure, or...whatever I chant silently with them in my hands. It helps. I don't think it's the beads, though. I think it's me choosing to change my perspective by focusing on what's really important in the moment. The beads are just a tool.

Also, does everyone spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning and just generally straightening up when they are at home? I know it sounds like silly question, but I feel like I spend all my free time doing just that. Sometimes I don't mind doing it everyday, but other times... I keep trying to tell myself that I just moved into this apartment 2 months ago and to give myself time to get every little thing unpacked and put in it's place, but I'm getting impatient with myself. I feel like I want to do everything in one go, which is of course, nonsense. I have far too much junk, books, knicknacks, dishes and other whatnots to be able to do that. (Patience grasshopper.) I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel like my life centers around my job and my home. I suppose this is a similar experience for all women? I've just never been this domestic-goddess-y before. It's probably the age. Oy.

I've got to take my old ass to bed.

Furious and Frustrated Monday

I woke up thinking (wishing) that time could be turned back so that I could be in my twenties again. I've missed out on so much. I wanted to have a baby. Now, it's too late for me. Plus, I'm not married. I don't even have a boyfriend or a prospect of one so even if I did want only a sperm donor that is out of the question. I've been so stupid with my life. I've made so many mistakes and let so many people walk all over me and that makes me angry with myself. Furious, actually.

I also remember thinking, like so many others have I'm sure when they start feeling their own mortality, that I only have this one life to live. After this there is nothing more. This thought should spur me on to make some radical changes in my life, shouldn't it? As of right now, though, I'm still just furious and frustrated.

While I was showering this morning, I remembered something that my mother said to me when I told her a few months ago about a short-term sexual encounter I had with a man I've known for nearly twenty years. I told her that I actually enjoyed myself and that for the first time in my life I didn't feel guilty about having sex. She said to me, "Where is the girl who was going to wait for marriage to have sex?" I remember this question irritated me at the time, but I think I just blew it off. But now as of this morning I'm thinking, "That girl disappeared the day you let your father fuck me." You know...whatever man. I don't think anymore that there is any such thing as "waiting for marriage". I've met a few folks who waited until they were married to have actual intercourse, but did everything else while they were waiting. Is that hypocrital or is it just me? That whole idea is just too archaic and patriarchal to be tolerated. I'm sick of playing to men's insecurities just because they want to be the one to "go where no man has gone before". Fuck that.
And my mom can go fuck herself for even having the nerve to ask me that stupid question.

I'm Hoping The Day Will Forget Me