Moving Past Autopilot

Long time, no see...

2009-04-14T03:41:00.001-04:00

Wow, it's been a long time.

So, I just quit a pipefitting job that I (mostly) enjoyed...

and I'm getting married in a few months.

Crazy, huh?

:)

Huzzah!

2008-12-10T21:54:00.002-05:00

So! It has been a while!

For right now I'll just say that I got accepted for the pipefitting apprenticeship... talk about excited! I start January 5th, and for the next 5 years, I'll be guided and trained and tested and at the end of the time, I hope to be a lean, mean, journeyman pipefitting machine!

Here is a link to a really apt description of what pipefitting involves, and the classes I'll be taking, among other things. The website isn't from my program, but it's a good overview of what I'll be doing nonetheless.

Pops got popped

2008-11-02T02:47:00.001-05:00

So my pop's in jail. Yeah, yeah, I know. AGAIN. This time, he didn't even *do* anything, but Atlanta's finest collared him near a place where there was suspected wrongdoing. Yeah, racial profiling, but then I won't lie, my pops tends to *look* like he's up to something. Sneaky bastard. They'd have let him go, but danged if he didn't have a probation violation charge he'd conveniently failed to appear on.

Well, son outdid himself, 'cause *gasp* Rice Street (Fulton county jail) is overcrowded. Duh, never saw that coming in this fine, lawbreaking city of mine. Anyway, they've been shipping out inmates from there to other counties in Georgia that don't have neeearly the overcrowded conditions in the city jail.

Well.
I'll tell you what.

If you're not familiar with Georgia, think about this.
There's Atlanta (plus suburbs, and heck, even exurbs, comprising the Greater Atlanta Metropolitan Area) --

and there's the Rest of Georgia.

Every southern, rural, country stereotype you've heard is probably applicable here.
Like, two of my friends just found out today that they are related, through a town in middle Georgia. They're, like, kids of cousins.
Boiled peanuts? We've got 'em.
Peach trees? Galore.
Cotton fields? Get to pickin'.
The KKK? Shoot, you don't even have to leave the metro area to find white hoods.
Yeah, way on down in Dixie, still some segregationist crap at these huge county high schools... OK, don't get me started.

Anyway. So, Pop is down in bum freaking Egypt, in some county so far from here, we'd never even heard of it, until today. Did you know that there's a Mitchell County, Georgia? I certainly didn't, and what's more, it's actually closer to Flori-duh than here. Apparently it's sort of in the angle opposite the hypotenuse from Albany to Valdosta, since you totally
A. remember what a hypotenuse is, and
B. know where in hell, I mean, Georgia, Albany and Valdosta are.

I have faith in you, though... don't disappoint me.

(I need to take my frikkin' medication. It's 2:32 AM. I shoulda been took it.)

Ay ay ay. Blargh it all, I know I got half of my DNA from him, but sometimes I wonder. It's like he's allergic to abiding by the law. Once, I heard my pop went a whole six months without stealing anything and he broke out into hives. Started hyperventilating and everything. They said it was just an allergic reaction, but we know the truth. :nods:

Ah, well, I still love the big lug, rap sheet and all.

and... she's back!

2008-10-26T18:00:00.005-04:00

Today was interesting and random.

Worship went swimmingly. I'm glad to be back in my old congregation. It feels good to get Gramma to the services, as well. I feel really good about that. She looks adorable in her suits and dresses. My friends and I keep joking that she's trying to meet some nice brother and get married, and she just grins. My Gramma is so cute, it hurts.

In other news, I was talking with Linny outside on the phone a few minutes ago. I get crap reception for some reason inside my house, so often I will go outside and walk up the street. I get in some exercise, and gab with my friends -- win win.

Well, this creepy-looking guy stopped me and wanted to talk with me. He said that he needed someone to talk to and wanted to get to know me better. I mean, I know I'm cute and all, but seriously, I don't know this guy and crime is on the rise. I live in a pretty nice neighbourhood and everything but you just can't be too careful.

I told him that I didn't really talk to strangers, and he said that that's why I should talk to him when I got off the phone, so he wouldn't be a stranger anymore. I had to laugh at that.

I said, "Well, how do I know you're not going to hit me on the head and try and rob me?" He said, "Oh, no, miss, I'm not a criminal like that at all!" I said, "Well, I don't know that for sure, and you can't be too careful these days." He shook his head emphatically. I had to laugh at myself, because like Ted Bundy went around telling people he was a serial killer? You just don't know with people.

By and by, the guy, whose name is Vincent, walked around the corner, past the bus stop, and it looked like he was headed down toward the high school. I breathed a sigh of relief, and continued on with my walking. When I came back up the street a little later, though, there he was, and he leaned up against a traffic signpost, as if waiting for me or Godot or an absolution so long in coming, or maybe for sunset -- I dunno.

I asked my friend if she could just ring me back on my home line, because I was going in the house. I noticed my neighbour, Mrs. Arline, outside in the yard, and I wanted to get in the house whilst someone was still out to observe what was going on. I tried to do it as quickly as possible, because I didn't want him knowing where I lived.

It sucks, because it's a really nice day outside and I was enjoying my walk-and-talk, but I'm really not in the mood today for getting a stalker on my hands or defending myself against the Cascade Rapist, kthnx.

Anyway. Su called -- she is back from Spain. I'll bet she had a heck of a time.

I had coffee with KP yesterday -- more on that later.

I hung out with Kim and Kimmy today. It was full of awesome. Kimmy and I hang out all the time anyway -- we've gotten egregiously close lately. Kim is my childhood best friend and we had grown apart in recent years, but now that I'm back in the city we're spending more time together. As we talked together, she explained the distance that I had been feeling lately over the past while and it made a lot of sense. I'm just glad that I can be there for her now.

Hmm... well. I think that's it for now. Got a busy week lying ahead, and Di wants to hang out on Friday, which makes me happy.

Things have been going well for me socially and in a lot of other ways. I know that I need to get my act together as far as self-care and the like, but I don't know what it's going to take for me to truly follow through with that endeavour.

In the meantime, I've got rhythm, I've got music, I've got my ~~man~~awesome friends -- who could ask for anything more?

current mood: satisfied
current music: jewel - near you always

what's goin' on

2008-10-25T21:33:00.005-04:00

Psych appointment Friday. Dr. H was actually proud of me. Trusts me enough that he's upping my meds. So I've got about 3.625 grams of the Lamictal/Lamotrigine on me. I won't bother sharing what my initial knee-jerk reaction was to the idea of 3 grams.

Ob-Gyn appointment on Monday. OK, so I guess it's just the Gyn part, 'cause I'm not trying to hear about any obstetrics anytime soon. I haven't gotten my girl bits checked out in a while, and I'd been avoiding it 'cause the last time, I started crying like a baby. There's few things as flashback inducing as lying on a table and being prodded down there, but whatever. It's high time I saw to my netherregions and I'd like to know ASAP if there's any cellular weirdness going on in the vicinity of.

Not that I'm actually using any of my girlie bits; oh, no. I may as well donate my cervix to art or science or something. Anyone need a uterus? Maybe someone can use it to collect rainwater or something.

After Monday, I'll be done with appointments for myself for a while. I don't see Dr. H until December 23, and my next session with Ann isn't until Nov. 19. Normally we schedule them every week or two but for some reason we didn't schedule one. I guess she just figures that I'm coming to group every week, but she will soon see that she's figured wrong.
I don't feel like going. There's nothing much for me to say. In the end, I'm going to do what I'm going to do, one way or the other, and I'm failing to see a point in sitting around talking about what I'm going to do, one way or the other.

That's probably a cop-out, but I don't care, and I've got spumoni in the freezer.

Oh, so Mal called back friday, twice, actually. I'm glad that she's confiding in me and all. I'm worried about her. She's stronger than she thinks, though. She'll be OK.

Actually, I was able to come through for her. Her husband is really screwing them over financially. Anyway, because of some bills coming through and her being nervous that she wouldn't have enough to catch it, she needed just $10 or so to give the account enough of a cushion to catch the charges. I managed to scrape up the money and went and deposited it in her account. That's how you know I love the kid -- it was a perfectly good day for curling up and chilling, and it was super rainy. Add to the fact that I'm broke and had like $3 to my name, so I had to rob Peter to pay Paul to get the money, but I got the money. She's my homey, and I can think of plenty of times when she came through for me with dough, so hey, one good turn deserves another.

I'm just pissed that her husband keeps getting them in this situation. She's about to put some restrictions in place with him as far as accessing the account, but I actually think she needs to take it a step farther and take the check card away from him -- it's actually her bank account, not a joint one. Give him an allowance (she's the breadwinner -- he works only part-time), and say, "OK, here's money for gas and lunch. If you mess it up, tough." But he is not to be trusted with the check card.

There's more I could say about that, but I don't feel like talking more about her husband, or it will make me angry. We are all friends, but I definitely don't feel as close to him anymore as I've become progressively aware of what a bum he can be at times.

Anyway. OK, just so everything makes sense. I've got about four best friends right now. Mal is up in Indiana.

SB is in Austria, having moved there in September. I miss her a lot, but we were still staying in touch. Recently, though, I had been a little out of touch. She's sent me 2 emails this week, wondering how I am and what's going on. I love her to pieces, but I guess I just haven't wanted to write about it, and I haven't had the opportunity to Skype with her or whatever -- I need to get another camera and mic and all that.

I will get to working on an email to her though, soon, because I know she's already pretty worried and I haven't said anything. I just don't know what to say, especially as I'd kind of have to go back and catch her up on stuff. It's different from my friends around here in Atlanta who know what's been going down. Or even Mal, whom I can talk with on the phone.

But SB has been hardcore supportive and loving and amazing. I miss talking to her every day, but I guess life goes on and all that.

Ted is in New York. We do the Google chat thing and occasionally talk on the phone. Especially since I've moved back on this side of town, I've gotten close with his family again. His mom is going to give me a violin to replace the one I sold, if it is in good repair. I'm grateful, because I've really missed playing the violin.

Ted is rational, practical, loving and hilarious. He is the best thing to come out of prep school since polo and plaid.

Kim's the recentest addition to the BFF list. We were already good friends, but we've been spending mad time together since I came back to the city. We roll together no less than 3 times a week. We've discovered that we had a lot more in common than we previously thought. It's almost gotten eerie.

OK, so these are the major players.

Oh! I just saw a video of myself from 10 years ago, on this quiz show that used to run on TV in Atlanta. My high school quiz bowl team was on there, and we mopped the floor with the other team. I was nervous to watch it, afraid I'd embarrass myself. But I was actually pretty good on the show! I sound like a total white girl, but that's par for the course with me. My hair was long and my mannerisms are so... Anne-esque. Shoot, I was a-freaking-dorable! I felt some love for the 17-year-old me.

***

One of my favourite scene from Lennie Briscoe -- Jerry Orbach's character on Law & Order:

Lennie: I look at you, and I see possession with intent to sell.
Crackhead: But you ain't even search me!
Lennie: I got x-ray eyes, man! But if you tell me something about Drew Washington, maybe I go blind.

I love his wisecracks. I miss Jerry. He was a heck of an actor.
I like the cops on that show, making deals, letting petty criminals walk if they can come up with evidence or info to help them fry bigger fish.

Another scene:

Lennie (pointing to a photo of the guy they're after): You seen this guy?
Criminal (insolent, lying): Never seen him before in my life.
Ed (grabbing criminal): Is that so?!
Criminal: Hey, I watch Court TV! You can't search me without probable cause!
Ed (tussling with criminal): Well, you might want to go back and watch a little closer, because you ever heard of a Terry Stop? It means I can search you without PC if I feel my safety is being threatened. You feel threatened, Lennie?
Lennie: Oh, I'm shaking in my shoes.
Ed (pulls a packet of drugs out of criminal's pocket): Hey, what have we here? This could send you upstate for a couple of years.
Lennie: Unless, of course, it doesn't belong to him? Maybe he's just holding it for a FRIEND? (holds up previous photo, again)
Criminal (catching on): Uh, yeah, I was just holding it for the guy, I didn't know what it was.

scene ends with criminal ratting out the guy in the photo

****

It would be awesome if I could see Russia from here. Maybe.
As long as there's no borscht involved. I've had enough borscht to carry me for a lifetime.

2008-10-21T11:51:00.002-04:00

I'll say more later, but for right now, I'll just say that the campaigning for President has been making me think.

Why are folks so afraid of ideas and opinions so contrary to theirs? Why must they rabidly oppose such, painting the holders of these differing ideas so pejoratively, as somehow alien or sinister?

I don't understand it and it makes me feel a little sick to my stomach.

cruelty-free

2008-10-14T19:22:00.002-04:00

I think PETA is crazy.

That said, after watching this video, I don't think I can go back to eating meat. The video made me cry... (and be warned, the video is pretty flippin' graphic. you will see animals abused and having their throats slit and bleeding.
Holy cow I don't think I can eat meat without puking (involuntarily) again.)

I've been vegetarian and vegan before -- you may remember that I carried on as such for a good while. (From 2000 to 2003 -- when I went to residential treatment they insisted that I go back to eating meat, and I complied. I've never been real huge on meat since then, but I will eat it.)

Wow. I knew the animals were mistreated -- I'd read about it, but I'd never actually seen the footage. Lord.

****

In other news, I start back working on a limited, part-time basis on Thursday... I think it's time. It won't be enough money to start financing any revolutions anytime soon, but I will be able to pay my health insurance, give Gramma a big chunk of money to help with the mortgage and bills, and then the rest of the money I can save or put towards, perhaps, my bills. I'm not interested in throwing money at my bills if I can't make much of a difference right now, so that's a maybe, but paying my health insurance, my medical/psych appointments, and money to Gramma ain't a maybe. It will feel so good to be able to help her out, and at the same time help myself.

Depending on how strong I feel come December, and whether or not I am accepted to the apprenticeship, and also how disability is looking (they will let you work a certain amount, and I will be making just at the cut-off amount of dollars they allow you to make), I will decide my next move -- stepping up to attempting full-time, etc.

I have my meeting with vocational rehab tomorrow... I will see what they can offer me. I will also have a frank talk with my boss. If she is willing to work with me and make accomodations, I will feel a lot better about trying to do full-time with her. The vocational rehab people have partnerships with companies who are willing to try and make accomodations for people with disabilities.

My thing is, I don't want to try to do the full-time thing and then end up not able to pull it off, and then have screwed myself over for benefits and be without a source of income. I also don't want to set myself up for a huge downhill ride with the bipolar or eating disorder.

Yeah, obviously I'm having some issues with the ED, but at the same time, I'm not completely going off the deep-end here. I'm going to have a long talk with Ann tomorrow about where I am with my eating -- or lack thereof -- and maybe she can help me.
I'm going to be honest with her about a lot of things... and I suspect that there will be an end to this fasting madness real soon. Because, seriously, I'm sick of treating myself like this... it's that lately, I'm having these recurring thoughts, obsessive thoughts, that I don't know how to get out of my head. It is so hard staying in this body and keeping my sanity. Sometimes I feel really close to the edge and I don't know how to deal with it healthfully. I mean, I really will try to use the tools I've been given -- I've been journaling a lot more lately... I've been trying to meditate... I try to distract myself... I try reaching out to other people. and it helps to varying degrees, but lately, not much at all.

So, I'm kind of not sure, but I want something better for myself than a sure return back to the hospital. I know the drill by now. Lose a whole bunch of weight, end up back in treatment, possibly with a tube, if Christine has anything to say about it, do therapy and gain weight. There's nothing particularly glamorous about it, and it would be in December, which is somehow always really depressing for me. Treatment in an already depressing month is just lame.

I don't know how I'm going to figure out how to nourish myself and keep the thoughts contained... I don't know. I really don't want anything inside my body. I don't know how I'm going to manage. But for some reason, just throwing my hands up and giving in and giving up doesn't feel right, either.

I don't know. I know I was made for more than this, but I don't know how to get there or what, exactly, to do in the meantime.

current mood: a little punched in the gut
current music: polovtsian dances - aleksandr borodin

This is how we roll in the ATL, yo

2008-10-12T16:17:00.002-04:00

The Bears/Falcons game was AWESOME... one of the best I've seen in my entire life!
Falcons win!!!!!! right down to the wire! They had ELEVEN seconds to take the lead back from the Bears... and they freakin' DID IT!
Michael who? Ryan is going to be a heck of a quarterback. He's had a good rookie year thus far.

I about had a heart attack the whole last quarter... The Falcons ALMOST lost it... the Bears came back to tie it up and then go ahead with 11 (yes, I said ELEVEN) seconds left on the clock.
Some how, some rushing and a pass later, we were back in the game!
1 second left on the clock, and then the kicker came through with the go-ahead field goal.

Gramma and I erupted into high-fives and celebration (she loves her some football)
I LOVE THIS GAME!!!

on we go

2008-10-10T23:48:00.003-04:00

Today was good and productive.

I took the test! It went pretty well. The proctor was cool and let us bounce as soon as we were done with the math section. The waiting was always the worst part on standardized tests.

Afterwards, my old boss called me needing a favor, and I delivered... big time. I just so happened to be right in the neighborhood when she called, and shoot, I had time to kill before I took Gramma to her appointment. So I went and helped her with the project and basically saved the day. She thanked me profusely, and asked me to come back to work for her. I didn't accept right away, but I am willing to go back on a limited part-time basis. I'd be making enough to put a huge dent in bills around here, yet still get the government benefits I need right now. Win win.

So we're going to talk about that this weekend. I don't want to commit to something full-time until I've proven that I can get stable on a medication and manage pretty well from one week to the next, and not this dance of one clear, lucid day, and one jumbled, I'm-a-mess day like you might have noticed recently. :chagrined:

I do feel pleased that she asked me back, and I am willing to work with her again -- just more on my terms. She finally seems to grasp the divide between my strengths and limitations and more willing to work with me and what I'm able to do. I'm blessed to even get that kind of consideration.

Oh. And she was going to let me drive her BMW today, but I don't remember how to drive a stick. Craziness, no? What can I say, she's always trusted me. I've never betrayed that trust.

I've definitely seen the value of not burning bridges. Yes, I come here in my journal and I go ballistic about her when she really pisses me off. Lately, I've shown a lot of care and consideration, even when the working arrangement ceased. So... I guess it's coming back to me. I'm feeling really grateful now that I wasn't spiteful or mean-acting over these past few weeks.

Anyway. I came back and scooped up Gramma and took her to the doctor. Long story short, the same surgeon who operated on the vertebra in her neck is going to do her lumbar spinal surgery. I'm too tired to explain the particulars, but I trust her doctor. He's quite conservative -- an osteopath, no less. So if even he's recommending surgery... maybe she just needs to have the freakin' surgery already, you know? Maybe it'll do the trick and she can let go of the cane and the walker and get about without so much pain day-in and day-out.

I'm excited about the surgery. She's a trooper; she will fare well.
In the meantime I think that things are rolling along as they should. I believe that this medication is going to work for me, and that I'm going to be OK, eventually. Maybe I'll keep going in and out of... well, sanity is about the best word that I can find for it now. But I believe that I'll keep on truckin', that I'll be alright. Maybe I'm already alright, in a way.

today...

2008-10-09T12:42:00.004-04:00

I'm feeling better. I don't know if the Lamictal is kicking in or something, but it's like, I feel better... I feel more hopeful.
I just had brunch and I'm keeping it down, and now I'm about to study or clean or do SOMETHING productive.
Later on I want to go for a walk or run.
No, this is good, this could be the start of something really healthy.
I just hope I keep it up.

I'm going to try things for a week or so and see how they are. If I like what I see, then I'm going to go ahead and apply at the place where S works and see if I can get on for a few hours each week.

Gramma is over at the senior center doing her thing. Good deal.

I have a test with the Department of Labor tomorrow. Should be just a formality, a basic skills test type thing to make sure I can walk and chew gum for this apprenticeship.

My old boss C gave me a call today... apparently they're looking for the contact list stuff I worked so laboriously on. I have to admit, it's fun to see them try and replicate the things I did and fail miserably. They're totally falling short and even though I don't wish them ill, it does make me feel better about what I did all the time I was there.

She has less than three weeks to raise nearly $2000. Should be interesting.

Also -- I have not heard from K again since I set him straight, again. Thank goodness.

I will probably bake today. What say ye?

back to the drawin' board

2008-10-09T02:38:00.003-04:00

Lamotrigine / Lamictal.
Back on it, but a small, small dose for now.
Doctor was kind, but firm. Next time I start thinking impulsive thoughts, get a second opinion.
I'll try.

Old familiar Lamictal headache is back. What else is new.
But maybe this medication will work for me.
I hope so.

In other news... I don't remember.
Oh, yeah. We finished the disability paperwork.
And I cleaned a lot of house today.

I'm curious as to when the crying spells are going to start up with this medication.
This should be very interesting.

One thing I will say, though.
Nice to have a doctor who will work with me and titrate up very carefully.
I dig it.

It rained here a lot over the past day. It's raining now.
This is supposed to be our driest month.

I'm trying to decide if I want to keep eating or not. I'm thinking not. But, you know, it's day by day, and I just may need my energy.
I'm going to see if I can manage some super part-time work. Maybe. We'll see.
Let me see how I'm going to tolerate this Lamictal first.

I feel kind of... restless. A little uneasy. And can't seem to stop eating and purging for anything.

current mood: restless, resistant

sui generis

2008-10-07T01:59:00.004-04:00

OK, so I was going to take 35.5 pills. That's all I had left.
My body, however, was having none of it and I ended up puking up everything.
Yeah, OK, so I have no idea what my logic was. I knew it wasn't enough pills to kill me or anything, but enough to make me sleep for a long time, I guess.
Ah, well. I'm sick of this medication anyway. I'm going to call and ask Dr. H about another one.

Um, yeah. I know. I feel embarrassed and silly. Maybe I'll get my act together one of these days.
I sent Ann an e-mail so at least she knows what's what.

In other news, I started a couple of ink drawings early this morning, and I started writing two new songs the other day. But I think I said that already.

insomnia, part deux

2008-10-06T05:05:00.002-04:00

Couldn't sleep. Listened to music on my mp3 player instead.
Don't know why I had such a visceral reaction to so many of the songs I listened to.
I cried as many of them played.
Still no sleep.
This is day two awake.

On the cusp of mania/hypomania?

current music: luv - janet jackson

stomach burning

2008-10-05T04:39:00.004-04:00

My abdomen is sore. Jasmine rice, crackers, sandwiches. A chocolate Boost. I could say "Well at least I tried," but I didn't.
All purged. And I'd do it again.
Why do I even bother? I'm seriously considering fasting for a while. That would be interesting. Ann was saying something last week about how she is encouraged that I'm not going days on end without eating, at least. Maybe I should go back to that for a while.
I like feeling like crap physically. It makes me feel nervous that I don't, so much of the time.
I know, I know. I don't know what's wrong with my head, either.
I really want to fast for a while. I'm tired of fighting it.

Oh, I ran into a high-school classmate of mine a couple of days ago. I was a little embarrassed to get caught looking like 'Hannah Homeless' but whatever. Actually, this classmate used to come over to my house and play when we were kids. She was actually remembering one of the times we played together when we were younger, when we were about to play a game but my stepfather said no. I asked her if she remembered him, and she said not really, but I think she remembered my mother. That's a good thing that she doesn't remember him.

Actually, I was thinking of her not too long ago. Actually she was there when my mother and stepfather got married, and there are cute pictures of us.

There's more I could stay but my stomach is burning and Sunday should be a busy day for me so I should go and lie down. I'm tempted to go to East Powder Springs but that would involve calling K and asking him for a ride and I'm not going that route. I should probably go ahead and get the conversation with him over with. The whole "look, we need to kind of cool it" thing. Because if I wait around and expect him to get the point, I'll be waiting until Christmas... probably literally.

I miss my buddy. Miss B, hanging out over there in Austria. Every day I find myself wondering how things are going over there and what Austria is like.

I've got some plans for myself. I realised what I can do on Saturday and that will mean that I need to make an early night of things on Friday. It will be a lot easier without going all over the town with Mr. K all the time.

P.S. - My great aunt (Baba) and I used to sing that song "Scotland's Burning" sometimes back there in her bedroom. I miss her a lot.

I was thinking of her last night before I went to sleep and I cried some. Man, I miss her. I don't really indulge the memories and thoughts much because if I did I'd be crying a lot more of the time.

boys and meds

2008-10-04T23:32:00.002-04:00

OK, so instead of sleeping for 19 hours after taking the white pill, I slept for about 15. I must be slipping! :O
No, that's actually a good thing. I took half a pill an hour or so ago.
And... K is calling me right now. I'm not answering, though. What could he want this late?
I guess I *could* have answered. Well... maybe I'll call him back.
Am calling him back right now.

Called him back. He wanted to go to the Waffle House. I'm not gonna lie, I started to say yes.
Then he was asking what I'm doing tomorrow, and telling me what a good time I missed today.
It's like, good gravy, man, can I breathe?

Anyway. I'm not going out to Waffle House and I'm not going out with him tomorrow.
And I'm perfectly fine with that.

fun with post-its!

2008-10-03T14:35:00.000-04:00

Is this awesome, or what?

EepyBird's Sticky Note experiment from Eepybird on Vimeo.

prolific

2008-10-03T01:50:00.003-04:00

Crazy stuff. I just wrote the beginnings of two new songs. I couldn't tell you the last time I wrote a song. The first one I don't know the name of yet -- "Uninvited Madness" would be a good working title. It's in a minor key and borrows a chord progression from a 311 song that got stuck in my head. The other song is in a major key and kind of happened by accident; I was sitting in my papasan, chillin', and messing around with a D chord (on guitar, if you couldn't tell by now) and ended up with a song tentatively called "Dora". Now, I don't know a Dora, other than the Explorer, but it just came out. It kind of works with the song so far so I'm going to just attribute qualities to Dora when I'm actually talking about someone wonderful, who happens to have another name. We'll see how that goes.

It feels good to be writing again. I haven't written a song in at least a year if not longer. Now, of course, I'm nervous about taking my medication again (I haven't taken it in a few days), but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing. I'm purging like it's going out of style and I think I'm about to start hearing things again. I'm wanting to use the medication to sleep my days away, though. I'm hoping that I won't have to bother with food or eating if I play my cards right with it.

Things aren't going horribly. So why do I feel seized by the urge to starve to death?

I will never fully understand the workings of my weird little mind.

current mood: weird, yet sleepy
current music: fox

Travel

2008-10-02T03:14:00.005-04:00

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing;
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
No matter where it's going.

***

Few things move me like that poem by Millay. I first heard it in 2nd grade when another girl had to recite it for the February-themed play we performed as a class that year. I had to recite a poem by Amy Lowell -- it was nice enough, but it was the Millay I remembered.

And, truly -- 'there isn't a train I wouldn't take
no matter where it's going'

relative trade-in

2008-10-01T11:41:00.006-04:00

OK, so no Carrollton for me today. My mother is going -- they just left out of here in my great aunt's gas-guzzler -- and I don't want to be bothered with her. Besides, I have group today at 3:30.

Hmm, it has to be God's spirit keeping me from losing my mind, because the old me would have really lost it about 15 minutes ago. My mother was heading out of the door with my gramma to go to Carrollton with my great aunt. I noticed that she had one of my shirts on. My whole life, she's forever taken things from me without asking, and then tried to pawn them off as hers, and then gotten angry when I demanded them back. This time, she was wearing my shirt. I really don't like her skeletal, nasty butt in any of my clothes. She has that stage of chronic lung disease before emphysema, the name of which escapes me at present, so she coughs ALLLLL the time, and it's disgusting. One summer she passed me a spate of monster viruses from all her coughing, when she was living here, and I kept having to go to the hospital every week. One week in particular I could barely breathe and they had to put me on a machine. It sucked, majorly.

Anyway, I noticed her in my shirt. She said it was hers. I said it wasn't. She insisted again; I turned to the label. "Since when do you shop at Old Navy?" because, c'mon y'all, she doesn't. Just trust me. She must've known that I had a point because she didn't say anything right then. Then Gramma asked me for her cane, so I turned around to go get the cane, and I heard my mother saying something about "well, I'll show her I can be bipolar, too." That pissed me off -- it always does whenever I feel like someone is making fun of my illness. I try hard not to use it as an excuse for bad behaviour, and I try to remove myself from situations in which I feel like I can be provoked. Well, anyway.

I said, "What'd you say?" When I walked back out there. I should have let it go, though. She's lame. She's made fun of the bulimia and the bipolar before, so I shouldn't be shocked. She left the anorexia alone, but maybe that's because for once she wasn't the only ridiculously skinny person in the family. Anyway.

She said something, about how that was her shirt. I was actually going to let it go, because I'm no going to sit and argue with her over one shirt, and if she needs it that bad, then, hey, let her have it. I actually moved closer to the car because I couldn't find Gramma's cane in the house and wondered if she might know more specifically where I could find it.

In the meantime my mother muttered something, which I thought I heard, but wanted clarified. "What'd you say?" I asked.

She said, loudly, "I SAID, I don't have to sit here and lie about my shirt, you stupid b***h!!!"

I wanted to laugh more than anything, but I didn't do much of anything. Of course, my aunt freaked out because I guess she thought it would set me off. Yeah, in the past, it might've. But right then I just wanted to find my gramma's cane. But my aunt was all like, "There you two go again!!!" and then she and my mother were already in the car so I guess she told my mother to close the door.

I don't even think I shrugged but walked closer to where Gramma was and said, "Hey, do you know where your cane is? I can't find it at all." I went back in the house and tried to find it, since she didn't know where it was. Eventually I came back outside because I didn't want to keep them waiting, and she had found it in her car. Good deal.

I already wasn't a huge fan of my mother, and it's stuff like this that just adds icing to that. If I'm honest, I haven't really liked her for a long time, not even when I was a kid. Actually, I had a dream last night, well, this morning, about why I'm really not a fan of her. It's another one of those abuse dreams, which I could really do without.

You don't sacrifice your kid for drugs, for your marriage, for whatever.

I hate ever having to interact with her at all. Gramma uses her as a clean-up service because the house is so cluttered and junky. I know I need to do better about helping to clean up -- hopefully that will help me see less of my mother. That's the only thing about being back here; sometimes I have to see my mother. I mean, I guess I really can't say anything; after all, Gramma *is* her mother. She's got a right to see her mother and Gramma's got a right to want to see her. I can't argue that, but I sure don't like it.

Some days, I won't lie, I feel like it pushes me to the edge. I have to retire to my room and pray, 'cause I generally don't feel like seeing or being bothered with her. My aunt and Gramma go off on this thing about how we're supposed to be forgiving and all this tripe, but you know what? Last I checked, their mother's negligence didn't allow them to fall into the hands of abusers. And I'm saying negligence as best-case scenario. Worst-case, she said, 'sure, go ahead and have your way with my kid.'

I know for a FACT that she did this to a point with her ex-husband -- that she gave him outright permission on some of the things he did to me. I heard the conversation. Now, maybe he took some liberties with all the rest, but c'mon. That's like saying, "Well, I told him he could kick her in the stomach, but I didn't expect him to rupture her spleen!" You mean to tell me you live in the same little apartment and you can't put two and twelve together and figure out that your husband's sleeping with your kid? Maybe not right away, but over time? There were no signs whatsoever? Give me a freaking BREAK.

I hate to have to think it, but something tells me that she knew what he was doing, or strongly suspected it. Shoot, she flippin' knew he is a convicted sex offender (rape and sodomy in California, and he's listed on the state registry website. But Megan's Law isn't doing a dang thing, because they have his whereabouts listed as "unknown." I sent the California DOJ his information, but I know they have better things to do than track down absconded rapists 3000 miles away. Still.) I mean, besides that, if he asked and was granted permission (aww, he was a NICE pedophile!!11) for some of the stuff, what's to stop him from thinking that going farther down that road would be fine and dandy by my mother? She had to have known something.

Well, anyway. I am going to have to figure out a way to get up and out of here. I'm going to have to figure out how to get and hold a job, how to save up money again, and score a vehicle again. I need to get stable on these flippin' meds, or whatever. I didn't want to leave here -- I know Gramma likes having me here and I like the safety of being here, but I just don't like dealing with my mother any more than I have to. If I fell back into anorexia hardcore and ended up really dependent then I woud have to deal with her muchly. I'm not really interested in that, as much as I miss being empty and spare and taking up hardly any space and all that.

So, I guess that's my motivation to get better. Get better, move out and move on. It's going to be a challenge but I can pull it off. I don't like seeing and interacting with my mother.
I'm pissed off that the idea of interacting with her has me so pissed off that I'm all like, "How many risperdal does it take to sleep forever?" But I know that's super-dramatic. Still... meh.

Helminthic therapy?

2008-09-30T19:50:00.003-04:00

This website right here does not, actually, gross me out. Sadly, I've been curious about the merits of the very concept for years, as far as weight-loss goes. And it reminds me of how when I was 6 or so, my aunt forever kept asking me if I had a tapeworm, because I seemed constantly hungry, but was yet a pretty slim kid.

Anyway... go, team platyhelminthes!

sailing along all regular-like

2008-09-30T18:07:00.007-04:00

This gas shortage (Zomg, gas crisis!!!111 as the news portrays it) ain't no joke. Times like this, I don't miss owning a vehicle. Who wants to wait 30 minutes to an hour for gas, or get in a petrol queue a half-mile long? Not you? Well, don't move here, then! :D

Anyway. DSL has been really dodgy here so I haven't said as much lately as I wanted to say.

I'm finally keen on taking my medication again -- the risperdal. I've accepted that sleep is just going to be The Sleep Comas Are Made Of until my body is used to it, and it won't get used to it if I take my meds with the regularity of Halley's Comet. So!

Yesterday evening I took my meds... I woke up about 1 PM today. Yep, 19-hour sleep; you read it here, first! I feel kind of lame and non-productive about it all, but what can I do? I'm just going to keep taking it and hoping for the best. I may drop to taking half a pill and work my way back up to the 1 mg later, but I keep reminding myself that the longer I prolong this agony is the longer I'm not going to be able to handle working and functioning like a normal human being. I do want that, even if it takes a while to happen, so I'm going to take the flippin' pills and just deal.

What's kind of annoying is how squirmy I feel when I first wake up. I can't explain it well, but it's like... I feel all shaky and weird inside and I don't know when I'll settle down.
After all this I really hope that this is a medication that is efficacious for me when I get up to a therapeutic dose. I hope, I hope, I hope...

I had a session with Ann (therapist) on Monday... Monday at 9 am seems to be my time with her. Anyway, she seemed really hopeful and pleased at my progress. I think she thinks that my interactions with K are nothing but beneficial for me (which makes me a little nervous!) She also says that she knows that I'm trying really hard with the food stuff, but that it will likely get better by focusing on my strengths and living well. That felt good to hear, that she wasn't condemning me for having a hard time at times. The truth is, sometimes I am able to eat something and keep it down, but a great deal of the time, I am not. I went for a run this afternoon... I know how easy it is for me to get back to being addicted to exercise, so I have to be careful. So far I've kept nothing down today... it feels like a burden I can't handle right now to eat, swallow, and digest. That's just asking for too much.

Deep down I'd still like to take my meds and sleep rinse repeat and pass the days that way.
And a big part of me wants to backpedal and avoid hanging out with K to the extent possible. I always end up eating and being really free when I'm with him, and although that's probably good for me, it's scary, too, so... I don't know.

Tomorrow is group and I will very likely go. I haven't been in a couple of weeks but maybe it's time to come back. D is gone, as she lost her insurance coverage, and whilst I feel a little guilty for saying it, I'm kind of glad that she's gone and that I won't have to deal with her anymore.

These days I'm more into hanging out with healthy people who can show me what it's like to live well. I am understanding of folks who have issues, but what I struggle with is folks who are struggling and then kind of reveling in their illness. I don't have the energy to deal with that right now. I recognise that I'm struggling, but I'm also not going to sit here and glamourise my issues, either. I'm really not a fan at all of the bipolar -- no wonder I was in denial about it for so long. It's not something I'd wish on other people, no matter how much I disliked them. I'm annoyed that I have to be stuck with it, but I'm grateful that there are other folks out there with it who manage pretty well, as it gives me hope for the future.

I'm not a happy camper about the eating disorder, either, and I'm especially annoyed that, 15 years later, I am still out here struggling. I'm forever wondering how long it's going to take for me to get things right, but as Ann would say, 'It takes as long as it takes.' I guess.

Before group, if I can wake up, I am going to my family's farm in Carrollton with my great aunt and my gramma. We're going to check on the cows. It's an 87-acre farm, so it sometimes takes a little bit to find them. Every week someone in the family goes down to check on them (at least once, if not several times a week) and to make sure that they haven't breached the fencing and that they're well taken care of. A few weeks back, K went with me to Carrollton and we had a pretty good time. He took lots of photos of the old train depot and met some of our neighbours down there. Though I identify with the city, I also identify with the country... I guess 'I'm a little bity country, I'm a little bit rock-and-roll.' Yeah, that's probably a pretty apt description.

Anyway, I'd like to go down there, but if my mother goes because she doesn't get a job for the day (she's a substitute teacher, but I sure wouldn't want her around my kids, if I had any), then I'm not feeling going so much. I'm sure I'll talk more about her later, but let's just say she'd never win mother of the year. I don't hate her, but I sure don't like being around her. She's a drunk and a crack addict, although I'll grant that maybe she hasn't done any drugs in a few months. The addictions I could deal with if she had actually made any lasting attempts to get them in check, and to make amends to the people she has wrong, but she hasn't.

Lately, my mother has seemed to be greatly amused as she's corroborated stories I told my gramma about how she treated me when I was younger (e.g. - giving me beer on a regular basis to get me to sleep at night when I was a baby, as well as when she was out with her friends (because I guess it was too much trouble to bring a bottle or sippy cup.)) This is a lady who drove drunk with me in the car, and burned me with cigarettes. When she was married to my stepfather, they would at times take the fuses out of my room, so that I wouldn't have lights. Sometimes they'd bar me from leaving my room, so I ended up having to pee in a jar or on the floor. Not to mention kicking me out of my room that time to rent my room to my uncle and his prostitute. I swear! Yeah, life was a blast with dear old Momsie in it. Don't get me started on her now ex-husband. I'll save that for the tell-all book, or for a few entries farther down the road when I can actually talk about what happened without feeling like I'm going to lose my lunch. Let's just say, I wouldn't trust him around my kids if I were you, and I am also slowly coming to the conclusion that my mother must have known about it and tolerated it. I mean... either that or she was super oblivious, and my mother is a lot of things but she's not that blind, deaf, and dumb.

OK, well! I talked to M yesterday -- he's an old manager from my last job. He is a good reference when I'm actually applying to jobs and stuff so every so often we check in. After checking to see if I am still alive, he tells me stories about what's going on with the paper now that I'm not working there anymore. The stories tend to be pretty amusing. I do know that my paycheque would've taken a huge slashing if I still worked there, based on reports from him and others still in the company.

Anyway, that's pretty much it for now. I better go give Gramma her other set of eyedrops. I think I better hit up some stories about my mother soon to get her out of my system. There's some other stuff I've been writing about too, in spurts... what I'm writing is helping, but I know I've a long way to go. I've had some weird dreams related to that stuff lately and I don't want the PTSD-y stuff to get in the way hardcore anymore.

current mood: regular
current music: tmz

i can has t-shirt

2008-09-27T13:56:00.005-04:00

Conversation via text:

K: You want that t shirt I showed you? Otherwise I'ma toss it
Me: I want u to take a picture in it first b4 u toss it
K: So you don't want it?
Me: No, it has robber cooties on it

***

The backstory:

K's last apartment got broken into. Apparently, the robbers were young black males in the neighbourhood. K, in case you didn't know, is white. (Normally, I wouldn't include race, but this figures into the rest of the story.) They took a lot of really random things -- K's t-shirts, probably some CDs, as well as things he didn't notice until later, like his guitar. They also took an expensive camera of his.
Not only did they steal things of his, but they also hung out in his apartment, just chillin', and left random little things for K to find.

One such random little gift was a t-shirt that THEY brought, and tucked underneath one of the pillows on K's couch. This is the t-shirt which K was referring to in the text messages above.
And what does the front of the t-shirt say, but:
Just because I'm black doesn't mean I'm a criminal

K about died when he found the shirt. He's all cool with the ironical, but this about took the cake.

betty crocker gets cervine

2008-09-26T23:12:00.004-04:00

OK, so! I just finished a sour cream pound cake. It came out pretty well, I have to say. Gramma loves my cakes -- they are about the only thing I bake these days.

Also. I just learned from one of the blogs I follow that apparently braking for moose is a sometimes necessary thing in New Hampshire. Good to know!

Man, I want to see a moose! Not up close in my car or anything, but what's a girl gotta do to get some moose action up in Georgia? I'm so over the freaking deer. Bambi stopped being cute right around the time he and his mom almost took out my little Mazda.

current mood: pleased
current music: time after time - eva cassidy

journeys with ink

2008-09-26T21:20:00.005-04:00

This is a reminder that I've been meaning to do more art, and need to scan it in when I'm ready to share it.

Sometimes I wonder who pressed the "dump load" button on my brain. I'm forever having to leave myself little reminders.

this is the dawning of the age of something or other...

2008-09-26T20:13:00.006-04:00

So, I went to the car dealership. I put on my sweet-girl voice -- I go back and forth between sweetness and the way I talk when I'm with my family and close friends. I explained my situation, with the lack of job and the disability. They were really understanding, and tried to help me figure out other possible solutions. Some of those solutions were tempting, but in the end I think I was ready to get rid of the car. I just want the stress gone of coming up with the payment on no income and all my savings exhausted. It's tiring. It's a real strain on body and spirit.

My aunt trailed me over there in her TrailBlazer. Of course, she drives über slow so she got lost from me on 75, and we ended up going an exit beyond where we needed to. This sucked, because we ended up having to turn off the 120 loop onto Franklin, which sucked because traffic into one of the BP gas stations extended half a mile down Franklin Rd. Only, we didn't realise that it was gas station traffic until 10 minutes later, as my gas tank wore down and I stalled out at least two times. I was not what you'd call a happy camper at all, and was annoyed at my aunt for not following me as closely as I thought she should've.

My stomach was also oddly burning throughout all of these endeavours... anyway, finally, we arrived at the dealership. I ran across the guy who'd initially sold me the car. I felt embarrassed to run into him, as I knew he'd remember me. He did, but it turned out to not be so awkward. He asked what was going on, that I was voluntarily giving up possession of the car, and I mentioned that I'd been ill and was out of work.

When I talked with the Powers That Be, they looked at my record, and said it was a shame -- I'd made my payments on time, and had often paid more than the amount due. They made an interesting offer to me for this month's payment, and I have to admit that it was tempting. But as I told them, in another month I'd be right back in the same situation. Full-time work is beyond me right now, and who knows if and when I'll find something part-time that is suitable and sustainable. This past summer I was able to do some limited part-time work, but despite the workplace and I making accomodations, it was, as they called it on my Social Security disability application, an unsuccessful work attempt.

This week was very productive, if egregiously humbling. I applied for disability and SSI (for bipolar, ptsd, and the eating disorder -- I'll talk about these later), and it seems as though I have a very strong application. 1-2 or more appointments with my health care professionals every week don't exactly hurt my application. Nor does the fact that we've had the hardest time getting me stabilised on any one medication. Right now we're trying to get me stabilised on even .5 mgs of Risperdal (risperidone). Actually the doctor wants me up to one mg right now, but I've struggled to consistently take the half-pill. And Dr. H says that I probably won't see any real therapeutic effect until I'm up to two mgs. Right, then. I sense that he is interested in adjunctive therapy down the line for me, in the form of some other medication that works well with Risperdal, but for right now we are taking it one step at a time.

I also applied for food stamps, and unless something incredibly weird takes over the planet, I should be approved and receive them in a few weeks.

I got in touch with the vocational rehab people, and I head over there for orientation to their services in the middle of next month.

I voluntarily repossessed my car.

I also spent a lot of good quality time with Gramma and took her to physical therapy on Wednesday.

Gramma is going to be nice and let me use her vehicle some, but I have to say that I've already seen how it feels to fall back into adolescence. I asked her if I could use it to go meet with a friend this evening and she said no. Yes, there's a gas shortage, but there's gas in the tank. And no, she's not going anywhere -- presently she is curled up in bed, asleep. Ah, well. I'm tired and need to rest up tonight, anyway. K and I didn't get back in from the show in a college town 70 miles from here until 3 am.

I don't know that I'll cease being amazed at the quality of my life, despite some of the recent frustrating losses I've experienced. I still have loving, kind friends who wish to be seen with me and spend time with me, despite the fact that my fortunes have reversed themselves, despite the fact that I feel that I've turned into a mere shell of an adult. I mean, K got in touch not long ago, wondering if I wanted dinner. He knows my situation, food stamps and all, and still wishes to keep me as a substantial part of his life. Such love and kindness and consideration is beautiful and humbling and wonderful. It's a big part of why I'm not giving up hope.

current mood: optimistic
current music: aquarius/flesh failures - the 5th dimension

ABLE testing

2008-09-26T06:03:00.004-04:00

So, I got the letter to take a test with the Department of Labor. I haven't missed my chance after all.

I'm still wanting to get on with the pipefitters' union as an apprentice. After I take the test with the Department of Labor, I will have to meet with the union's board of directors. I hope that it goes well. I have missed working with metal more than I know how to explain. If you didn't know, I went to a welding trade school a few months back to get my feet wet, but I never got a certification, nor did I enter the field fully -- life, as it so often does, happened. More on that later, but suffice it to say, sustained work became extremely hard for me.

At any rate, I did the trade school to see if I would enjoy metalwork at all, and finding that I adore it, I'm looking forward to work in a trade that does plenty of it. I thought that the pipefitters' union would be a good way to go to achieve that, since they pay you (quite well) to go to school, and train you like they want you to work. I thought that having had some metalwork experience could only help me.

We'll see if that thesis proves true, and if I will even be able to have the stamina for sustained work.

current mood: stomach burning
current music: sarah mclachlan - possession

Disappointment

2008-09-26T05:27:00.004-04:00

Disappointment takes manifold colours on the same cloak of shame and lack; it is still a bitter pill to swallow, despite any seeming lubricative value of the bile it creates.

Disappointment is turning in the car you obtained with a sub-prime loan, because you no longer have the resources to maintain the illusion of being self-sufficient enough to own a vehicle. Nearly 10-years-old and falling apart, it is in its own right a disappointment, but until very recently has been one that, nonetheless, allowed you to zip to this point and that still feeling every bit independent and twenty-something, instead of the adolescent once-was/has-been that you, with disappointment, fear that you have become.

Disappointment is being broke and unemployed and bipolar. It's being the one-time high achiever with even higher potential. You recall with disappointment the scholarship awards and such from senior year and the high hopes folks had for you.

Disappointment is having to accept this bipolarity as more than some passing pseudopsych diagnonsense in your case, but rather, a reality with an iffy prognosis at best. It's accepting the idea of mood stabilisers for the rest of your life and hoping to high heaven you'll be able to, at long last, manage to actually GET stable on a mood stabiliser and function. So far, you've a long way to go with achieving any sort of stability on a medication, much less your life. You shake your head, still awake yet again at 5:37 am, bile rising in your throat, medication-less.

Disappointment is feeling that your life bears no resemblance to completing, in fine fashion, any of the things you feel a twenty-something OUGHT'VE by now. It's feeling so hopeless about this point in particular that death often seems preferable.

Disappointment is feeling as though you'll never complete anything worthwhile, or anything at all.

Disappointment is remembering how creative you once were, and praying for even an iota of that capability to continue on within you at present.

Disappointment is the faith you once had in things getting better turning stagnant, growing cold.

Disappointment is being sick and tired of being the caretaker and the solution-giver, but feeling oddly bereft of help when the time comes for caring for yourself and finding solutions to your problems.

Disappointment is meeting someone you adore who only kind of likes you.

Disappointment is connecting with someone on so many levels and then finding them immature and self-absorbed in ways that make you physically ill.

Disappointment is completely throwing off your sleep and medication schedule for a concert you only kind-of wanted to go to, in a venue in which you had beer spilled all over you and your purse, after which you drove an hour back to your car in a very nice car that you won't own anytime soon, to be left to fend for yourself in a parking lot in a high-crime metropolitan area by someone you with desperately would Get It.

Disappointment is wishing so fervently that some people would Get It, but fearing that they never will.

Disappointment is missing self-starvation with such a fierceness and frenzy that it makes you physically ill.

Disappointment is knowing that going back to self-starvation is a totally wrong and totally long road you needn't trod again, but feeling that you must, and feeling a growing degree of guilt.

Disappointment is knowing that you flushed away your stash of medications on which you could have overdosed.

Disappointment is knowing that you don't like support groups much, because they are rife with sick people who have issues that you don't feel like dealing with. You have your own troubles and don't have the energy to save the world around you.

Disappointment is feeling lonely and bereft and perpetually one step behind.

Disappointment is looking with disbelief at your close friend of a different race, who makes a comment about class and/or race so ignorant that you wonder what you ever saw in them as a friend, and you wonder what ever made you think that they were ever so open-minded and understanding.

Disappointment is losing the bulk of your material possessions within a few months, and not knowing if or when you'll ever find means again.

Disappointment is fearing that you have become the face of What Is Wrong With Society Today.

Disappointment is going from being one of the Smart Kids to one of the Special Kids, only you haven't even got the resources the proverbial, governmental They give to help the Special Kids. you are attempting to receive some of these resources, and you hope beyond hope that They will see and understand your need and dole out said resources accordingly.

Disappointment is your life falling apart around you.

Disappointment is your other twenty-something-year-old friends leading carefree lives, seemingly oblivious to your struggle.

Disappointment is not knowing how or if you're going to find right-side-up again.

Disappointment is the bad guys getting away with it.

Disappointment is not knowing how you'll find a way past the aftermath of the trauma.

Disappointment is the Morning After, and you didn't have a choice about The Night Before.

Disappointment is not knowing how you're going make it through one more day like this.

Disappointment is hating what you've become.

Disappointment is feeling constantly full of shame and fear of being exposed for what you are.

Disappointment is knowing deep down that you're talented and amazing and not having a clue how to demonstrate that to the world, much less how to benefit from it.

Disappointment is hoping beyond hope that someone will take a chance on you and help you Find Your Way and Make It.

Disappointment is coulda, shoulda, woulda, didn't.

Disappointment is going to become a was.
Somehow, someday.
I won't let it keep defining me.

discretion is golden

2008-09-26T04:47:00.004-04:00

I haven't exactly been sure what direction this blog should take. (I've never been big on wanting to believe in shoulds, but I've tried to operate by the principles of should-dom, anyway, in hopes that I might be more acceptable to the world around me. It hasn't really worked, thus far -- most likely because I laboured under the delusion of what I thought the world around me wanted from me, and I was, often, decidedly off-base. But this is fodder for another entry.)

But, I guess I mean that I've wondered what I should put in a blog that I intend for others to read, keeping in mind my deep-down wish to have a large, perhaps even global following. Certainly I want to be careful about what I put out here about myself on the World Wide Web. Surely I'd like to carefully control the persona that I present to potentially a vast audience. I've wondered about what sorts of personal details it would be appropriate to share in this venue, and for what purpose i would share any potentially sensitive ones. I've wondered what I would do down the line if an employer became privy to information lain out in this repository. Would a future employer want to terminate me for being connected with this particular word-space?

I want to lay down my truths here. I want to wax poetic for an audience, and engage in a bit of self-excavation for others to read. Mining for self, but sharing potential gems with others -- that sort of thing.

Maybe it will feel embarrassing to lay some -- perhaps many -- of these things bare. Maybe I'm tired of hiding.

There's something to be said, though, for discretion. Maybe that would be a wise course as well.

Maybe raising my voice to speak and discretion need not be mutually exclusive endeavours.

Maybe, maybe, maybe; perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. I don't know anymore.
I want to add my voice to the polyphony. I'm afraid of the repercussions of so doing, but I'm beginning to think that I'm more afraid of not doing so.

OK. So, next entry I talk about disappointment.
Among other things.

On shame

2008-09-23T05:45:00.004-04:00

Just a quick note on shame. I'm sick of living a fear-based life, constantly ashamed of the world finding the truth about me, my carefully constructed hedging and lies by omission falling around me errantly like foliage from a non-deciduous tree in obvious distress.

I'm tired of putting up appearances. I'm tired of resembling a whitewashed grave. I've at times used that epithet to scornfully refer to the city and former company by which I found myself environed, but --
I am the one who all too often sought to hide behind the seeming safety in being less-than-authentic.

I've had enough of virtual reality, with its consequences. It promised instant gratification, and it did indeed grant a hollow sort of victory, but true gratification occurred neither instantly nor down the long and arduous road.

I have had enough.
And perhaps I'll open up a veritable can of worms here -- enough such that I'll regret placing myself here so openly, for all to see.
But at this point, that is simply the chance I am willing to take.

I have had enough of hiding.

I'll change names where I need to, to protect the identities of the guilty who have not made the same pact with my storytelling tongue.
But everything herein will be true.

I'm not exactly sure what my agenda is, or if I even have one, other than to open my mouth and start really speaking.

But I'm Here, and I'm Real, and I'm -- well.

I am.

And perhaps, at long last, I'm learning to not be ashamed to be.

I'm here.

2008-09-23T05:11:00.005-04:00

My name's Anne, among other things, and I still tack "and a half" and "three-quarters" onto my age as the year progresses. That never gets old for me, even though I'm 27... and a half.

I am many things, and it's hard to jump into describing one or two or 12 without feeling as though I need to describe the loads of asterisks and mitigating factors I feel I need to insert so that you, gentle reader, don't draw the impression that I'm a horrible person and a shiftless bum, to boot.

I suppose that in spite of everything, I really (still!) care about what other folks think.

I suppose that I'm going to put this out here and not care if some future employer stumbles across it. I've never stolen any government secrets, and I'm not all that important anyway that I'd be Googled, right? So what have I got to hide.

Anyway. I'm here. And I'll return later. I'll start up this tenuous sort of... well. Dangling conversation.

Simon and Garfunkel would be proud.