I just needed to post this really quickly, although I do have a lot to cover.
I just had one of the worst days at work. I mean, I was STILL bitching as I walked out the door of the hospital, got into my car, sped three blocks home, got out, checked the mail, unlocked my apartment and came upstairs, went to use the restroom, and got everything together to sit down and chill out - I crabbed THE ENTIRE time.
But right now, I don't want to talk about that.
I just got off the phone with my grandmother, and I came to realize in that brief moment of talking to her, that I love the sound of her voice. I'm incredibly choked up as I write this, but I'm trying desperately not to cry. Her voice is so reminiscent of when things were good in my life, when life wasn't so hard. And, I like to talk to her without any distractions - being on the computer, watching tv, anything like that, because I don't like ANYTHING to deter my attention from her. I think in the short time that I get to talk to her, she deserves to have 100% of my consideration.
I think she'll be 85 this year. She's not long for this earth. And, she's had it rough. Her health is deteriorating rapidly. I thank God that she was never a victim of Alzheimer's. She's completely blind in her left eye, and she has a percentage of site left in her right. She's had two total knee replacements on her left knee, numerous scopes done on both knees, several various eye surgeries, a failed corneal transplant, and now, she's in the smack-dab middle of having a gamut of heart tests run, because she's been having heart palpitations so severe, they've caused her numerous times to pass out.
My family has drifted apart. I've never been happy about this. But in my heart, they're still my family. I think that while emotional closeness within a family is incredibly important, so is physical closeness - the closer, the better. The fact that right now, I can't be with my family when they need me, and when I choose to be with them, tears my heart open almost on a daily basis. There are days I NEED my aunt, her kids, my Grammy, my uncle - SOMEBODY who is me - to be there.
Phone calls just don't do it for me. They don't do justice to way my family makes me feel when we're together.
I always feel like I'm shoving my family in peoples' faces, but I love them. Even though we have our share of problems, I can't help but be completely head-over-heels in love with them. They're the few people who have ALWAYS been there for me. They weren't always able to help, but at least they chose to listen.
My grandmother is the same way. Before we hang up, she always says, "Jennifer, I wish I could be there to help you more," and I sigh and say, "I know. I wish I could do more to help you, too." And, I tell her that I love her every, single time I get off the phone. It's only been in the last two or three years, that I've started telling my family that I love them, whenever I get off the phone or in parting. I believe that's important. You should never "assume" that someone knows you love them, although I do understand that it may be difficult for some. I think it should be said often and with feeling.
I want my grandmother to live forever. I don't ever want to let her go. I frequently wish I would have never left town, so I could be there - for her. But being in that town was so oppressive for me - the memories, the same haunts, the places I'd been with my mom and my ex-husband, the love of my life. It's just too hard. I moved for selfish reasons, but I don't want to get into that.
I just always want to remember what Grammy's voice sounds like. It's the kindest, slightly northern accent you could ever hear. And, it's got the most wonderful soul alive to go along with it. She's one of the people I will forever admire, and I never want her to go. I fear that every day. I don't care if she tells me the same stories over and over again. I love her so much, that I feel like my heart will just explode.
I'm sorry. I know my blog has giant gaps in it, with lots of missing information, and that my posts have been kind of unrefined and choppy, and for that, I apologize. I always tell myself to be more diligent in my writing, and I'm trying. This is my therapy, and I should do it regularly. I'm blogging for several people, so my psychiatric bill should be outstanding. Like I need that.
I love you, Grammy. We're so lucky to have you as the matriarch of our family, and I'm so thankful that you're mine. I'm so glad that I've had the opportunity to know you for the entirety of my life. I've always been able to rely on you all these many years, no matter what the situation. I could never do you the justice that you deserve, but please know I want to. I want nothing more than to make the rest of your life a cakewalk, because you've earned it. I'll love you for the rest of my life and beyond. Thank you for being a part of my life.
4.15.2008
3.31.2008
Stream of Consciousness much?
Right now, tears stream down my face, as I sit here listening to the sound of chainsaws devour an age-old tree outside my apartment. I have my headphones on, and I can still hear them.
I mourn for the loss and disrespect of nature...I always will. That's a part of me that I actually like, that I'll never change.
i told him about my thoughts revolving around the drinking and the cutting again, and he flat-out told me no
He said to divert my attention from the cutting and the drinking.
I'm trying, just so you know. I really am trying.
my body feels so hollow, my arms, my torso - like it's full of air
CJ: like a feather in the wind , only... now serene as most might think.
but helpless
he doesn't always respond, until he needs to - i normally just talk for 45 min
he said i'm still mourning for the life i lost
Tomorrow, I'd like to go to the gym.
We'll see, though.
I just started reading Fahrenheit 451. What an incredible story. How profoundly prophetic. I even used it today in therapy:
"Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information...Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with...bring on...more of everything to do with automatic reflex."
Right now, I feel like that's me - "...full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." I feel like I'm completely on autopilot. I don't like it. I don't feel like a dandelion seed, drifting through the wind, with a purpose.
*somber*
What a beautiful word.
People don't use words often enough.
I mourn for the loss and disrespect of nature...I always will. That's a part of me that I actually like, that I'll never change.
i told him about my thoughts revolving around the drinking and the cutting again, and he flat-out told me no
He said to divert my attention from the cutting and the drinking.
I'm trying, just so you know. I really am trying.
my body feels so hollow, my arms, my torso - like it's full of air
CJ: like a feather in the wind , only... now serene as most might think.
but helpless
me: yeah
like i'm floating through existence
aside from the tree, my mind is blank - i feel emotionless and neutral
swedish, if you will
he doesn't always respond, until he needs to - i normally just talk for 45 min
i was scared today, that i was so empty, i wouldn't have anything to say
but i did it - i filled the entire, whatever, 50 min with words - solid words, even if it felt like nothing to me
and he always seems to genuinely enjoy listening to me - he writes and writes, like me, which makes me happy
he remembers things, he can refer to things i've told him - he made a whole diagram of my family (including heather's) and the people who are closest to me
he said i'm still mourning for the life i lost
because my happiness was so incredible
i reveled in my life
it had it's crappy moments
but overall, i loved it
i didn't hate myself AS MUCH
but i didn't like myself a lot
now, i can't stand myself
i hate waking up and knowing i'm me
i can't figure out why i hate myself so much
there are times that i fall to my knees and cry out to God to ask why He makes things so hardi can't figure out why i hate myself so much
why i always have
i disliked myself before aaron ever came along
but after i fucked my life up, i began the complete and utter, all-consuming hatred
i know it's in mebut after i fucked my life up, i began the complete and utter, all-consuming hatred
i do
but it's how to make it surface is my biggest battle
but i know He's not "doing" anything to me
it's just the way of the world
it always will be
and all i can try to do is better myself
like you said, you always want to be moving in a forward direction - i'm the same way
but mine is more emotional betterment
or....
well, i don't know how to say that
i want to better the world
one piece of garbage at the time
Tomorrow, I'd like to go to the gym.
We'll see, though.
I just started reading Fahrenheit 451. What an incredible story. How profoundly prophetic. I even used it today in therapy:
"Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information...Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with...bring on...more of everything to do with automatic reflex."
Right now, I feel like that's me - "...full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." I feel like I'm completely on autopilot. I don't like it. I don't feel like a dandelion seed, drifting through the wind, with a purpose.
*somber*
What a beautiful word.
People don't use words often enough.
3.24.2008
Circle, Circle - Dot, Dot - Have you had your cooties shot?
Ok, so here's what's going on so far. No, car's not fixed, so don't ask.
I've somehow picked up the pink eye(s). I went Saturday to spend the day with Heather and her family and had a fantastic time. They invited me for Sunday service at church for Easter. I was completely willing to go...until I woke up at 6a the next morning with goo covering both my eyes. I wrote it off as allergies (because I had been rubbing my eyes a lot at her house the previous day, as we sat outside in the pollen-saturated air), but declined to go to service, because, well...I couldn't see and my eyeballs were leaking.
On to that night.
I'm sitting on the bed, facing the box fan, when out of nowhere, I slam my hands onto my face, because something had flown into my eye...or had it? I dug and dug and dug (I'm not very reasonable when things are in my eyes) and dug and dug and pinched and pulled and nearly pulled all my eyelashes out, when I finally went downstairs to stick my head under the faucet, pull my eyelid up past my forehead, and wash the damn thing out.
No good.
As long as my eye was closed, and it wasn't exerting any kind of energy (eg. looking in any direction, following my unaffected eye), AND I had my hand over it, it was fine. So, I made it back upstairs...in the dark...with one eye, and lay down in bed again. I reasoned that since the eye itself is pretty much self-healing, I'd just lay down and listen to some Futurama while my eyeball did it's magic. Sure enough, I woke up following two episodes, and I was cured! There was no irritation...but holy God, was is gooey.
I went back down the stairs (using two eyes this time), got a warm washcloth, lay down with it and wiped both my eyes clean and fell asleep.
I'll be damned if I woke up this morning with my left eye (the boo boo one) sealed completely shut with GLUE! That my eyeball MADE!
What the hell??!?
I opened both my eyes, only to find that overnight, I had suddenly become a pirate - with no patch, pegleg or parrot. The parrot, I could do without. But the patch and pegleg? Come on!
Anyway, I managed to pry my eyelid open, after much warm water and coaxing (ie. ripping of eye glue, eyelashes, and lots of cursing). I had to pick the rest of the goo out of my eyelashes, which has now resulted in my having three eyelashes to my name...or face.
I went to work, thinking I maybe had a corneal abrasion, that resulted in a ton of "under the cover of night, covert op healing, involving much eye glue" some kind of secret eye thing that I didn't understand. Because I won't lie - I don't know the first thing about the human eye, except that it's icky, and I don't like them very much. Except for the seeing part - that's ok.
All day long, my eye has itched, burned, swelled, turned red, weeped...and what did I do? I rubbed it, dug at it, touched everything and everyone within a 50 mile radius of me.
So, I'm guessing they'll be shutting down the hospital tomorrow, since everyone will be dead, because of me and this damn weirdo eye thing. I mean, who gets pink eye from a fan????
To top it off, I'd been rubbing my eyes so much, that I've transferred it to my other eye. WONDERFUL. One eye would never be enough for me! I wish it was my birthday, and that would make it ALL complete!
Soooooo, I had to coax my still-sick car to the Walgreen's, WAY down Green Springs, and we had to stop several times (I'm seeing all blurs at this point). When I finally made it there, at Terri Lynn's request (thank you, Terri), I found some homeopathic Similasan pink eye drops (Belladonna, Euphrasia, Hepar sulphuris, in case you were wondering). I also bought two Beanie Babies and some old-ass Easter candy, because I'm sick.
When you're sick, you get presents. I got two Beanie Babies, because I have two sick eyes.
Anyway, when I got home, I had to feed the cats, and when I reached down to move the fire extinguisher from off the bag of food, I promptly sprayed myself full-on in the face with it. I fell in the floor, the cats ran away, and I almost killed us all, because I totally had to open the windows to get air, once I regained consciousness.
After being infested with God-only-knows what kind of cooties and being sprayed with a fire extinguisher, I decided I might be safe in the shower.
Guess what?
I was.
So, I'm out and bathed, and I'm about to curl up and lay down with my Similasan. I don't know if they'll let me go to work tomorrow, but I'm still hoping I can find ONE SOLITARY PERSON who can direct me to some damn polymycin.
Otherwise, I'm going total biological warfare on your asses.
I'm going to walk right into the hospital and rub my face on everyone I can possibly get to, patients and all. I'll even stick my face in the lunch, so beware what you eat tomorrow.
You may be eating cooties.
One of our reps, Jerome, gave me the cooties shot today in surgery - circle, circle, dot, dot - now you've had the cooties shot.
How was I supposed to know my cooties were resistant???? &=(
I've somehow picked up the pink eye(s). I went Saturday to spend the day with Heather and her family and had a fantastic time. They invited me for Sunday service at church for Easter. I was completely willing to go...until I woke up at 6a the next morning with goo covering both my eyes. I wrote it off as allergies (because I had been rubbing my eyes a lot at her house the previous day, as we sat outside in the pollen-saturated air), but declined to go to service, because, well...I couldn't see and my eyeballs were leaking.
On to that night.
I'm sitting on the bed, facing the box fan, when out of nowhere, I slam my hands onto my face, because something had flown into my eye...or had it? I dug and dug and dug (I'm not very reasonable when things are in my eyes) and dug and dug and pinched and pulled and nearly pulled all my eyelashes out, when I finally went downstairs to stick my head under the faucet, pull my eyelid up past my forehead, and wash the damn thing out.
No good.
As long as my eye was closed, and it wasn't exerting any kind of energy (eg. looking in any direction, following my unaffected eye), AND I had my hand over it, it was fine. So, I made it back upstairs...in the dark...with one eye, and lay down in bed again. I reasoned that since the eye itself is pretty much self-healing, I'd just lay down and listen to some Futurama while my eyeball did it's magic. Sure enough, I woke up following two episodes, and I was cured! There was no irritation...but holy God, was is gooey.
I went back down the stairs (using two eyes this time), got a warm washcloth, lay down with it and wiped both my eyes clean and fell asleep.
I'll be damned if I woke up this morning with my left eye (the boo boo one) sealed completely shut with GLUE! That my eyeball MADE!
What the hell??!?
I opened both my eyes, only to find that overnight, I had suddenly become a pirate - with no patch, pegleg or parrot. The parrot, I could do without. But the patch and pegleg? Come on!
Anyway, I managed to pry my eyelid open, after much warm water and coaxing (ie. ripping of eye glue, eyelashes, and lots of cursing). I had to pick the rest of the goo out of my eyelashes, which has now resulted in my having three eyelashes to my name...or face.
I went to work, thinking I maybe had a corneal abrasion, that resulted in a ton of "under the cover of night, covert op healing, involving much eye glue" some kind of secret eye thing that I didn't understand. Because I won't lie - I don't know the first thing about the human eye, except that it's icky, and I don't like them very much. Except for the seeing part - that's ok.
All day long, my eye has itched, burned, swelled, turned red, weeped...and what did I do? I rubbed it, dug at it, touched everything and everyone within a 50 mile radius of me.
So, I'm guessing they'll be shutting down the hospital tomorrow, since everyone will be dead, because of me and this damn weirdo eye thing. I mean, who gets pink eye from a fan????
To top it off, I'd been rubbing my eyes so much, that I've transferred it to my other eye. WONDERFUL. One eye would never be enough for me! I wish it was my birthday, and that would make it ALL complete!
Soooooo, I had to coax my still-sick car to the Walgreen's, WAY down Green Springs, and we had to stop several times (I'm seeing all blurs at this point). When I finally made it there, at Terri Lynn's request (thank you, Terri), I found some homeopathic Similasan pink eye drops (Belladonna, Euphrasia, Hepar sulphuris, in case you were wondering). I also bought two Beanie Babies and some old-ass Easter candy, because I'm sick.
When you're sick, you get presents. I got two Beanie Babies, because I have two sick eyes.
Anyway, when I got home, I had to feed the cats, and when I reached down to move the fire extinguisher from off the bag of food, I promptly sprayed myself full-on in the face with it. I fell in the floor, the cats ran away, and I almost killed us all, because I totally had to open the windows to get air, once I regained consciousness.
After being infested with God-only-knows what kind of cooties and being sprayed with a fire extinguisher, I decided I might be safe in the shower.
Guess what?
I was.
So, I'm out and bathed, and I'm about to curl up and lay down with my Similasan. I don't know if they'll let me go to work tomorrow, but I'm still hoping I can find ONE SOLITARY PERSON who can direct me to some damn polymycin.
Otherwise, I'm going total biological warfare on your asses.
I'm going to walk right into the hospital and rub my face on everyone I can possibly get to, patients and all. I'll even stick my face in the lunch, so beware what you eat tomorrow.
You may be eating cooties.
One of our reps, Jerome, gave me the cooties shot today in surgery - circle, circle, dot, dot - now you've had the cooties shot.
How was I supposed to know my cooties were resistant???? &=(
3.21.2008
Messing with my Bellsouth Voodoo dolls
Hi. Just wanted to let you know that everything is ok. My internet has been totally spastic at the house, so I haven't been able to do anything.
So, Dwane, get your tail over here and help me fix this P.O.S.
I'm updating from work, but I really shouldn't be on here.
Otherwise, I'm here, with a backlog of posts to surprise even the US government.
Talk to you all soon...
So, Dwane, get your tail over here and help me fix this P.O.S.
I'm updating from work, but I really shouldn't be on here.
Otherwise, I'm here, with a backlog of posts to surprise even the US government.
Talk to you all soon...
2.28.2008
This is all I've ever wanted
From Postsecret - thanks to whoever posted this.
I'm starting to think it's not possible, though, for someone to accept me as I am.
2.26.2008
Stop being so damn closed-minded
I think the internet is an invaluable resource for absolute crap. The more I see, the more it fills me with dread. But, I also find some of that crap that makes my heart swell.
For instance, this guy made a prosthetic leg for a parrot named George, who could be heard yelling out "bloody hell!," in his frustration of not being able to stand up on one leg. Two days later, they followed up on the story, to see how George was taking to his new prosthesis. Deemed by the aptly titled "Parrot Eats False Leg," turns out, he ate it.
Good boy, George. &=)
As a sidenote to this, some ass was making comments as to why they didn't just let the bird die, because there are no prosthetic legs in the jungle - I pose to you this. The United States spends billions of dollars a year on the most useless things, while people are dying and starving, WITHIN OUR OWN COUNTRY. I think this is a great deal cooler than that.
As Gandhi said, "The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."
Ok, not that that means a whole lot for the United States, who continues to somehow allow children to get gunned down within the sanctity of their own schools. Gun control, my ass. It's called "WARNING SIGNS," people! Anyway, I think the treatment of animals pretty much boils down to the true being of an individual. If you don't like animals, then I don't like you. And, if you don't like me, then what are you doing here?
But, I'm wandering.
Ok, so there was this other story, of which I'm sure you'll be receiving the cutesy emails with these pictures attached in T-minus 5...4...3...2...
Here's the only story I've been able to discover thus far. Whether or not it's true, I'm not entirely sure:
Dachshund mom is fostering this guy for another mom who couldn't take care of him. He had his eyes closed, but now they are open. He is just a little bigger than her other pups. She loves this little guy more than the other puppies and she is nursing him back to health. He is the cleanest "puppy" ever because she licks him all the time.
I know everyone's also heard the wonderful story about Dennis & Nubs:
I hate to abbreviate, but to sum it up, while on duty in the Anbar Province, a Marine found this dog, who's ears had been cut off, possibly to enhance the dog's aggression. Nubs would come visit with them while they were on border patrol, and they'd repay him for his companionship by feeding him. He'd also chase their Hummers as they'd pack up to leave. Later on, after Nubs had barely survived a harsh, freezing winter, they discovered he'd been stabbed with a screwdriver, so Dennis nursed him back to health, and has managed to raise the $3500 necessary to have him sent to San Francisco. So, now Nubs is going home to live in the lap of luxury and wait until his new daddy gets home.
Whether or not it's fake, I could care less. I just think it's an exemplary story of how all humans should STRIVE TO BE, in any and all scenarios - compassionate without hope of reward.
Here's a pic of a lady who lets turtles hibernate in her fridge. There, of course, people made comments about the food being in with the possibly salmonella-laden turtles. I think the food was probably placed there for aesthetic value. And, if you get salmonella from a turtle touching your pepper, then oh well. I held a baby bat and didn't get rabies, when he bit me thirty-eleven times. And if I did, then oh well. I just have that opinion of stuff. At least I'm not racing damn race cars or wrestling alligators.
Again, it boils down to my "GOD, keep your nose out of every mother-fucker's business already!!!!" philosophy. You can give someone the info, but you're sure as shit not going to change them, so stop trying!
Or as xkcd so satirically puts it:
If animals can love beyond skin, color, imperfections, and boundaries...
...then why can't we?
For instance, this guy made a prosthetic leg for a parrot named George, who could be heard yelling out "bloody hell!," in his frustration of not being able to stand up on one leg. Two days later, they followed up on the story, to see how George was taking to his new prosthesis. Deemed by the aptly titled "Parrot Eats False Leg," turns out, he ate it.
Good boy, George. &=)
As a sidenote to this, some ass was making comments as to why they didn't just let the bird die, because there are no prosthetic legs in the jungle - I pose to you this. The United States spends billions of dollars a year on the most useless things, while people are dying and starving, WITHIN OUR OWN COUNTRY. I think this is a great deal cooler than that.
As Gandhi said, "The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."
Ok, not that that means a whole lot for the United States, who continues to somehow allow children to get gunned down within the sanctity of their own schools. Gun control, my ass. It's called "WARNING SIGNS," people! Anyway, I think the treatment of animals pretty much boils down to the true being of an individual. If you don't like animals, then I don't like you. And, if you don't like me, then what are you doing here?
But, I'm wandering.
Ok, so there was this other story, of which I'm sure you'll be receiving the cutesy emails with these pictures attached in T-minus 5...4...3...2...
Here's the only story I've been able to discover thus far. Whether or not it's true, I'm not entirely sure:
Dachshund mom is fostering this guy for another mom who couldn't take care of him. He had his eyes closed, but now they are open. He is just a little bigger than her other pups. She loves this little guy more than the other puppies and she is nursing him back to health. He is the cleanest "puppy" ever because she licks him all the time.
I know everyone's also heard the wonderful story about Dennis & Nubs:
I hate to abbreviate, but to sum it up, while on duty in the Anbar Province, a Marine found this dog, who's ears had been cut off, possibly to enhance the dog's aggression. Nubs would come visit with them while they were on border patrol, and they'd repay him for his companionship by feeding him. He'd also chase their Hummers as they'd pack up to leave. Later on, after Nubs had barely survived a harsh, freezing winter, they discovered he'd been stabbed with a screwdriver, so Dennis nursed him back to health, and has managed to raise the $3500 necessary to have him sent to San Francisco. So, now Nubs is going home to live in the lap of luxury and wait until his new daddy gets home.
Whether or not it's fake, I could care less. I just think it's an exemplary story of how all humans should STRIVE TO BE, in any and all scenarios - compassionate without hope of reward.
Here's a pic of a lady who lets turtles hibernate in her fridge. There, of course, people made comments about the food being in with the possibly salmonella-laden turtles. I think the food was probably placed there for aesthetic value. And, if you get salmonella from a turtle touching your pepper, then oh well. I held a baby bat and didn't get rabies, when he bit me thirty-eleven times. And if I did, then oh well. I just have that opinion of stuff. At least I'm not racing damn race cars or wrestling alligators.
Again, it boils down to my "GOD, keep your nose out of every mother-fucker's business already!!!!" philosophy. You can give someone the info, but you're sure as shit not going to change them, so stop trying!
Or as xkcd so satirically puts it:
If animals can love beyond skin, color, imperfections, and boundaries...
...then why can't we?
2.22.2008
Dog Sees God
Briefly, let me just say that we went to see Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead by Bert V. Royal last night at the Playhouse, and it was incredible. I'm trying to find the script online right now, in order to quote some things, but insofar, I've been unsuccessful.
Snoopy, for some reason, has always retained this mystical, etherial, all-knowing quality to me. Even when I was a young child, it always seemed to me that Snoopy knew so much more than he ever let on.
Heather, you have GOT to stay on my ass about these auditions, ok? Like I said, I've completely missed my calling.
2.20.2008
Idears?
Ugh, I need to redo this page.
I need to find another damn background.
I need a vacation, yo. And, a car. And, for everyone to leave me alone about some stuff, eh?
I need to find another damn background.
I need a vacation, yo. And, a car. And, for everyone to leave me alone about some stuff, eh?
2.19.2008
The dreams that kill
I've been having the same dream for weeks. It won't stop.
He's completely paralyzed, from the neck down. I know he's done it to himself.
He's the reason they're dead.
She had her reasons for writing the letters.
But I keep going to visit him in the hospital. I keep showing up, strictly to take care of him - to delicately bathe him, to feed him, to make sure he's getting the care he needs, but doesn't deserve. I try to make myself stay away, but I can't. I can hear his voice resonating in my ears. His smile keeps me going. He's so glad every time I show up. And, I always feel relief...once I get there.
When I leave, the resentment sets in all over again. Although, I can't help but miss him.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Then, I flash back into that black house.
I see the stairs going up and down, in and out of the portico.
It's dark.
There are no lights.
I can only barely make out the details of things by the light of the moon that washes over the mostly roofless house, bathing everything in a sick, muted light. I can feel evil in the house, and there's absolutely no escape.
It's back before he got hurt.
We perilously try to make our way through the house, to find some way out, but it's almost impossible. The only way we can keep from going insane is to huddle together, to find joy in the presence of the other. I can feel "things" flying overhead, but I don't dare look up. We pray they don't notice we're there.
There's a darkened basement.
There's an accident.
He falls.
But he's not dead.
I try to defend him, but everyone knows what's happened. They blame him. I say, "he's not like that. He would never do something like that. You don't even try to understand him."
But somehow, I'm wrong.
I don't even know I'm wrong, until it's too late. Until everyone else knows. I feel so stupid and betrayed. Why am I always the last to know?
But I keep visiting.
I keep taking care of him.
Because I always will.
Because I know what happened in real life.
And, I know he deserves so much more than this.
Yet, he'll never be ok.
Not after what's happened.
He's not the one who's paralyzed.
It's me.
He's completely paralyzed, from the neck down. I know he's done it to himself.
He's the reason they're dead.
She had her reasons for writing the letters.
But I keep going to visit him in the hospital. I keep showing up, strictly to take care of him - to delicately bathe him, to feed him, to make sure he's getting the care he needs, but doesn't deserve. I try to make myself stay away, but I can't. I can hear his voice resonating in my ears. His smile keeps me going. He's so glad every time I show up. And, I always feel relief...once I get there.
When I leave, the resentment sets in all over again. Although, I can't help but miss him.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Then, I flash back into that black house.
I see the stairs going up and down, in and out of the portico.
It's dark.
There are no lights.
I can only barely make out the details of things by the light of the moon that washes over the mostly roofless house, bathing everything in a sick, muted light. I can feel evil in the house, and there's absolutely no escape.
It's back before he got hurt.
We perilously try to make our way through the house, to find some way out, but it's almost impossible. The only way we can keep from going insane is to huddle together, to find joy in the presence of the other. I can feel "things" flying overhead, but I don't dare look up. We pray they don't notice we're there.
There's a darkened basement.
There's an accident.
He falls.
But he's not dead.
I try to defend him, but everyone knows what's happened. They blame him. I say, "he's not like that. He would never do something like that. You don't even try to understand him."
But somehow, I'm wrong.
I don't even know I'm wrong, until it's too late. Until everyone else knows. I feel so stupid and betrayed. Why am I always the last to know?
But I keep visiting.
I keep taking care of him.
Because I always will.
Because I know what happened in real life.
And, I know he deserves so much more than this.
Yet, he'll never be ok.
Not after what's happened.
He's not the one who's paralyzed.
It's me.
2.18.2008
Quick! Post something!
For some reason, my blooger is working again at work.
I've actually had several posts that I haven't posted, be it that they're broken and unfinished. Obviously, I hate putting things out there that are undone (um, hello, life?), sooooo....I don't know if I should just rewrite the posts, post them as is, or date them as to their true dates.
Ugh, I don't know. All I can think right now is that I smell barbeque, and I'm about to vomit on this keyboard. My tummy is really bad, and it's only going to get worse, due to some of the things that are about to, eh, "go down" in my life. Bleeding ulcer, meet rectal fissure.
Those stupid Fergie lyrics keep coming up in my head: "You don't want no drama, no no no no drama!" No shit, Fergie-Ferg. There are very few people I know who can completely sustain from drama - I'm not one of them. BEING DRAMATIC and pure drama are two different things.
I will admit, though, that I'm some serious high-maintenance. I know this, and I refuse to ever deny it. Well, and of course, I guess it depends on what you're looking for and to what ends you're willing to consent. All I want is to be kept in books, video games, and technology.
Clothes? Meh.
Jewelry? Absolutely not.
Attention? Oh, hellz yeah.
Somehow, I got into the discussion about this with someone this weekend. And, it's one of those "this is who I am, and I srsly doubt it's going to change any time soon" things.
Oooo, also, I'm starting to apply for some travel xray positions. It pays almost 5% more than what I make now, and considering the next raise we're ever going to get will be about the time Scrushy gets out of prison, I'm really needing to consider other options. Car's still dead, not getting another one anytime soon, don't have time to put up with any of that bullshit anyway. But they totally take care of you, and although I'm scared shitless to leave town by myself, eh, I gotta do something.
Anyway, I'm sorry I haven't been incredibly dilligent. I'm working REALLY, REALLY hard at healing other aspects of my life, my extensively fucked-up mind, and striving to find all the pieces of my broken heart, so my life has been unintentionally chaotic and shit-filled as of late.
Forgive me. At least there is progress being made.
I've actually had several posts that I haven't posted, be it that they're broken and unfinished. Obviously, I hate putting things out there that are undone (um, hello, life?), sooooo....I don't know if I should just rewrite the posts, post them as is, or date them as to their true dates.
Ugh, I don't know. All I can think right now is that I smell barbeque, and I'm about to vomit on this keyboard. My tummy is really bad, and it's only going to get worse, due to some of the things that are about to, eh, "go down" in my life. Bleeding ulcer, meet rectal fissure.
Those stupid Fergie lyrics keep coming up in my head: "You don't want no drama, no no no no drama!" No shit, Fergie-Ferg. There are very few people I know who can completely sustain from drama - I'm not one of them. BEING DRAMATIC and pure drama are two different things.
I will admit, though, that I'm some serious high-maintenance. I know this, and I refuse to ever deny it. Well, and of course, I guess it depends on what you're looking for and to what ends you're willing to consent. All I want is to be kept in books, video games, and technology.
Clothes? Meh.
Jewelry? Absolutely not.
Attention? Oh, hellz yeah.
Somehow, I got into the discussion about this with someone this weekend. And, it's one of those "this is who I am, and I srsly doubt it's going to change any time soon" things.
Oooo, also, I'm starting to apply for some travel xray positions. It pays almost 5% more than what I make now, and considering the next raise we're ever going to get will be about the time Scrushy gets out of prison, I'm really needing to consider other options. Car's still dead, not getting another one anytime soon, don't have time to put up with any of that bullshit anyway. But they totally take care of you, and although I'm scared shitless to leave town by myself, eh, I gotta do something.
Anyway, I'm sorry I haven't been incredibly dilligent. I'm working REALLY, REALLY hard at healing other aspects of my life, my extensively fucked-up mind, and striving to find all the pieces of my broken heart, so my life has been unintentionally chaotic and shit-filled as of late.
Forgive me. At least there is progress being made.
2.04.2008
Swan dive, into the asphalt
So, we're starting from the beginning. I saw my psych on Friday, explained to him the feelings I've been having, and he just looked at me thoughfully, rubbed his face and said, somewhat exasperatedly, "Well, everything you've just described to me sounds exactly like depression...which means the medicine (cymbalta) isn't working." I started crying and said, "Why does this keep happening to me? Is this normal, that every medicine I take, I eventually develop an immunity to it?" He said it happens to some people, so we went over the list of meds that I've already been on, to see if there was any hope in the marketable, cheap meds.
I mentioned that Celexa was what got me going after Mom died. He said that he wanted to try that one once more. At first, he suggested Lexapro, but then changed to Celexa, because you can buy it at Wal-mart for $4.
And, then we had a little incident on Friday from which Heather and Lee had to rescue me from. Let's just say, it's been a rough weekend. I slept almost the whole time, yet here I sit at work, and I feel like I haven't slept a wink (usually a good measure of the severity of my depression).
The only good news I have to offer is that when I went to see Stannard last week, there was more bone growing in my fracture site. The screw is still well-intact (I have to say, though...that thing is a BITCH and hurts terribly when I bump it), and my pain has decreased significantly. So, I asked, with a somewhat pleading note in my voice, if I could go back to the gym. He said yes, and I grabbed him around the neck, and he said, "BUT...you've got to be careful and use your common sense." In specific, I'm forbidden to do any straight-leg raises. Which is fine with me. I hated those anyway.
Also, what else happened? Crap, I can't remember. Another indicator for how I'm feeling.
I actually got called in to Chris' office on Friday to talk about the times I've called in. I made a note on my write-up that all of this is resultant of the depression I'm dealing with. Chris read it, and I told him that I know it probably sounds like a cop-out, but that I'd made an appointment with our EAP (employee assistance program) for sometime this week, and that I really am trying to fix this. He said, as seriously as he could, "You know, we want you to get better, and we'll do anything we can to help you. Because you're a good tech, and I don't want to lose you." I jumped up, ran to the door, and wrenched it open. I said, "Don't make me talk about it, or I'm going to cry (I already was)! I want to get better, too!," and ran out like I was on fire.
I absolutely can't talk about this with anyone, especially at work, because it's just too hard. It's too hard for me to explain, and it's too hard for them to understand. You know, because depression is a booboo - but it's not a booboo you can see. I'll be damned, though, if it's the only thing you can feel. And, I slept SO WELL last night. But right now, my heart is fluttering and flipping, my eyes are heavy, my whole body is heavy, like it's made of lead, and I just feel like any minute, I'm going to drop to the floor in a "Sleeping Beauty" kind of coma.
I have very brief lights of "me" things. Like I can get a little excited about something, but it's really short-lived. Other than that, all the rest of the time, I look like I've lost my best friend (no offense, Heather). Someone once told me that although I look happy at times, I always look like there's a touch of unconsolable sadness in my face and behind my eyes.
God, I can't believe it's not even 830a yet. I just want to go home and go to sleep - forever. I can't, though. I'm going to try to get the car and make it to the vet with the girls. They really need their checkups and shots, and Jammy needs to get her stitches/staples out of her tummy. Plus, I've got to ask them about their fatty underbellies. I love kitties, no matter what they look like, but making kitties overweight is just cruel.
Oh yeah, UB started dayshift today. She was already here when I got here. Now if only a crazy person would come through the department and kill me, life would be good. Or death. At this point, whatever.
Sooooo, back on the Celexa. Again.
Here's to new beginnings - again.
I'll let you know when life feels liveable. Right now, I'd rather be anything but alive. I'd even pay money to have one of those good, long, hard cries, to feel like I'm releasing some of this...whatever it is. Cry out my grey cloud. Cry out my pain and senseless suffering - there's nothing over which to suffer. You're just a spoiled child with a fucked up brain. You mean nothing to anyone, so you have to meaning.
Starting over - - - - - again.
I mentioned that Celexa was what got me going after Mom died. He said that he wanted to try that one once more. At first, he suggested Lexapro, but then changed to Celexa, because you can buy it at Wal-mart for $4.
And, then we had a little incident on Friday from which Heather and Lee had to rescue me from. Let's just say, it's been a rough weekend. I slept almost the whole time, yet here I sit at work, and I feel like I haven't slept a wink (usually a good measure of the severity of my depression).
The only good news I have to offer is that when I went to see Stannard last week, there was more bone growing in my fracture site. The screw is still well-intact (I have to say, though...that thing is a BITCH and hurts terribly when I bump it), and my pain has decreased significantly. So, I asked, with a somewhat pleading note in my voice, if I could go back to the gym. He said yes, and I grabbed him around the neck, and he said, "BUT...you've got to be careful and use your common sense." In specific, I'm forbidden to do any straight-leg raises. Which is fine with me. I hated those anyway.
Also, what else happened? Crap, I can't remember. Another indicator for how I'm feeling.
I actually got called in to Chris' office on Friday to talk about the times I've called in. I made a note on my write-up that all of this is resultant of the depression I'm dealing with. Chris read it, and I told him that I know it probably sounds like a cop-out, but that I'd made an appointment with our EAP (employee assistance program) for sometime this week, and that I really am trying to fix this. He said, as seriously as he could, "You know, we want you to get better, and we'll do anything we can to help you. Because you're a good tech, and I don't want to lose you." I jumped up, ran to the door, and wrenched it open. I said, "Don't make me talk about it, or I'm going to cry (I already was)! I want to get better, too!," and ran out like I was on fire.
I absolutely can't talk about this with anyone, especially at work, because it's just too hard. It's too hard for me to explain, and it's too hard for them to understand. You know, because depression is a booboo - but it's not a booboo you can see. I'll be damned, though, if it's the only thing you can feel. And, I slept SO WELL last night. But right now, my heart is fluttering and flipping, my eyes are heavy, my whole body is heavy, like it's made of lead, and I just feel like any minute, I'm going to drop to the floor in a "Sleeping Beauty" kind of coma.
I have very brief lights of "me" things. Like I can get a little excited about something, but it's really short-lived. Other than that, all the rest of the time, I look like I've lost my best friend (no offense, Heather). Someone once told me that although I look happy at times, I always look like there's a touch of unconsolable sadness in my face and behind my eyes.
God, I can't believe it's not even 830a yet. I just want to go home and go to sleep - forever. I can't, though. I'm going to try to get the car and make it to the vet with the girls. They really need their checkups and shots, and Jammy needs to get her stitches/staples out of her tummy. Plus, I've got to ask them about their fatty underbellies. I love kitties, no matter what they look like, but making kitties overweight is just cruel.
Oh yeah, UB started dayshift today. She was already here when I got here. Now if only a crazy person would come through the department and kill me, life would be good. Or death. At this point, whatever.
Sooooo, back on the Celexa. Again.
Here's to new beginnings - again.
I'll let you know when life feels liveable. Right now, I'd rather be anything but alive. I'd even pay money to have one of those good, long, hard cries, to feel like I'm releasing some of this...whatever it is. Cry out my grey cloud. Cry out my pain and senseless suffering - there's nothing over which to suffer. You're just a spoiled child with a fucked up brain. You mean nothing to anyone, so you have to meaning.
Starting over - - - - - again.
1.23.2008
Highly unlikely
19%
Just so everyone knows, you're at least 81% safe around me. I'd rather starve to death than eat human flesh...or any other meat, for that matter.
Blech.
Just so everyone knows, you're at least 81% safe around me. I'd rather starve to death than eat human flesh...or any other meat, for that matter.
Blech.
I can has Purple Daze?
Daisy Rock
CONSTRUCTION: Set-Neck
BODY: Maple Back & Sides w/Spruce Top
NECK: Mahogany
FINGERBOARD: Rosewood
FRET: 21 Medium
SCALE: 22 3/4”
INLAY: Daisy
TUNERS: Custom Chrome w/Daisy Logo
BINDING: Crème
STRINGS: D’Addario EJ-15
FINISH: Purple Daze
This is my next purchase. I only spent a billion dollars paying bills last time. And, I'm going to save up to make a down payment on a car. But, right now, I'm buying something to keep myself busy.
I think this will do the trick.
Imma lay down - I've had a killer headache since about lunch today. And, I've got a busy weekend ahead. Post again soon...
1.16.2008
Tegan & Sara - The Con
I really hated this song the first time I heard it.
Now, it's become my theme song.
As in, I hear it everywhere I go...
I listened in
Yes, I'm guilty of this, you should know this
I broke down and wrote you back
before you had a chance to
Forget, forgotten, I am moving past this,
Giving notice
I have to go
Yes, I know the feeling, know you're leaving
Calm down, I'm calling you to say
I'm capsized, staring on the edge of safe
Calm down, I'm calling back to say
I'm home now, I'm coming around
Coming around but nobody likes to
But I really like to cry
Nobody likes me, baby,
If I cry
Spelled out your name and list the reasons faint of heart
Don't call me back
I imagine you and I was distant, non-existent
I'll follow suit and laid out on my back
Imagine that
A million hours left to think of you and think of that
Calm down, I'm calling you to say
I'm capsized, staring on the edge of safe
Calm down, I'm calling back to say
I'm home now, I'm coming around
Coming around, but nobody likes to
But I really like to cry
Nobody likes me maybe
If I cry
Encircle me I need to be
Taken down
Well nobody likes to but
I really like to cry
Nobody likes me maybe
If I cry
Nobody
Encircle me I need to be
Taken down
I'm pretty convinced that everything in the world is against me, and I'm never going to be allowed to be happy. Just a little FYI, it's my psyche that's doing that. It's not that I don't want to be happy. I just...can't. The easiest and most graphic way to describe it is kinda like a paraplegic. It's not that he doesn't WANT to walk - he surely does. He just CAN'T. I know sounds incredibly egocentric. But, I'm just a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. And, those of you who took the SAT know it doesn't work that way.
I AM the Expert Beekeeper
mood: frustrated
I feel like I'm slowly losing my mind.
It's sleeting here, Jammy has both hands up under the bed (?), and Booboo is sitting in my lap.
And, the only thing that's coming to my mind is the phrase "Expert Beekeeper."
My mind is so derisively blank, I'm becoming a little stressed about it.
Work was blah today. We didn't do anything. I never do anything, it seems. It just doesn't feel like anything I do is going to make a bit of difference. I feel like Heather and I were just talking about the other day, that feeling where you'll never do anything else, at the place where you stand. You're just stuck. You can't move up, you don't want to move down.
But I feel like there's so much more to what I'm supposed to be or have or do or WHATEVER. I just can't figure it out.
Ok, here's the catch:
I want to get married.
Now, everyone scream and run away.
That's what I feel like I want to do.
I meet so many of these "prospects"...but you know, it's the always-present, never-changing dilemmas of "he's gay, he's married, she's a chick, he's just not that into you, he doesn't believe in marriage, he doesn't believe in God, he's not ready," etc, etc, etc.
How the flarg did I get myself into this?!?
Oh...right.
Don't answer that, please.
Anyway, I'm so tired of waiting around for the world to come to me. But what to do in the meantime?
I don't know.
I don't know that I'll ever know.
Right now, I know someone's selling a Honda Civic Hybrid in the paper, and I'll be damned if that's going to be my car.
Ok, well, I hope it will be...
I need one or two things to be on the up-and-up for me. Just so I can have something to keep me going. Because right now, I'm pretty much sucking at life.
Frustration - unabated
*sigh*
I feel like I'm slowly losing my mind.
It's sleeting here, Jammy has both hands up under the bed (?), and Booboo is sitting in my lap.
And, the only thing that's coming to my mind is the phrase "Expert Beekeeper."
My mind is so derisively blank, I'm becoming a little stressed about it.
Work was blah today. We didn't do anything. I never do anything, it seems. It just doesn't feel like anything I do is going to make a bit of difference. I feel like Heather and I were just talking about the other day, that feeling where you'll never do anything else, at the place where you stand. You're just stuck. You can't move up, you don't want to move down.
But I feel like there's so much more to what I'm supposed to be or have or do or WHATEVER. I just can't figure it out.
Ok, here's the catch:
I want to get married.
Now, everyone scream and run away.
That's what I feel like I want to do.
I meet so many of these "prospects"...but you know, it's the always-present, never-changing dilemmas of "he's gay, he's married, she's a chick, he's just not that into you, he doesn't believe in marriage, he doesn't believe in God, he's not ready," etc, etc, etc.
How the flarg did I get myself into this?!?
Oh...right.
Don't answer that, please.
Anyway, I'm so tired of waiting around for the world to come to me. But what to do in the meantime?
I don't know.
I don't know that I'll ever know.
Right now, I know someone's selling a Honda Civic Hybrid in the paper, and I'll be damned if that's going to be my car.
Ok, well, I hope it will be...
I need one or two things to be on the up-and-up for me. Just so I can have something to keep me going. Because right now, I'm pretty much sucking at life.
Frustration - unabated
*sigh*
1.10.2008
UB, you suck
So, guess who's showing her ass again? Omg, it's actually NOT me for once! But I'm flattered that I would be the first person who would come to your mind! Nope, it's our usual problem at work, Ms. Satan, or as I think I'll call her, the "Usual Butthead" for lack of a better, more family-friendly name.
So, we're all sitting around today (it's been a dead day), and UB makes a phone call. She's sitting in the middle of all us techs and makes the remark to the person on the phone that she's NOT looking forward to coming to day shift, because there are several techs around here who just don't like to work, but she's got to do this until she finds something else (that last part told in a sing-songy voice).
Well, guess what, honey-pie? No one's looking forward to having you here. And, I can assure you that is pretty much the general consensus. We're ALL dreading it.
Now, I know that she's just narcissistic enough to think that what she said above is an incredibly "ballsy" thing for her to say, that she's such a rebel to say that in front of all of us, because AFTER ALL, she IS the greatest thing since sliced bread! I mean, if anyone deserves recognition for her work with humanity, it would be UB. (I'm SO totally rolling my eyes - that was pure and straight-up irony.)
Now, let me tell you WHY she's pissed. Among one of the reasons being because I was born, there were two portables that came up today, at the same time, for PICC lines, and they called to say the patients were ready for someone to come shoot the x-rays. I took the phone call, and then I told her, because guess what? It was my lunch time, and there was NO reason for me to not go to lunch on time. Plus, after the YEARS of shit she's put me through, there's no WAY I'm doing anything to benefit her, IN ANY WAY. I wouldn't take a dump on her if she was on fire. She's just that kind of person who says things, just so she can get a rise out of you. She likes to pick fights. Oh, and I forgot to mention, she's a 4-foot-tall, 50-year-old woman, aka. wouldn't you think someone would have grown out of that high school bully mentality by now? Well, not her. Not by a LOOOOOOONG shot. In fact, I'm betting that she's either bipolar or she's getting so old that senility is starting to kick in.
For years (I'm actually not exaggerating this time), this woman has had me ending up in Chris' office, in tears, with him backed against the wall, and me screaming, "ARE YOU SURE I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG??!?! WOULD YOU TELL ME IF I WAS???? WELL, WHY DOES SHE KEEP GETTING ON MY CASE??!?!?!?"
All he would say was, "Just ignore her. You know she's crazy. She's been like this for 30-some years, and she'll never change. JUST IGNORE HER."
This was a weekly occurrence, these confrontation/breakdowns. It got so ridiculous that after a while, I finally got a hold of the "just ignore her" part. You know what? I've got that shit down to a SCIENCE now. I can go an ENTIRE day without speaking to her, like she doesn't even exist. The fact that I'm wasting a blog on her is pretty ridiculous, but it's boring here today, and my mind is abnormally blank.
Anyway, work hasn't been so great lately. I've been real...itchy. I think I just need to take a vacation or something, because I've been here for almost four years, with no off-time aside from surgery.
Oh! Speaking of which...on to far more important topics.
I never blagged about it, but the last time I went to see Dr. Stannard about my knee (mid-Dec), I actually received some good news! I had x-rays made and sat in my exam room, until Wynne came and got me, to sit and look at my images with him. As I walked up and sat down, I pointed at the screen and said, "Woah! What's that???"
There was the TINIEST BIT of bone growth in between the two broken pieces, where the bone graft was supposed to be! It was little, but it was definitely there and it was definitely bigger than last time! I said, "What does this mean??? I'd already pre-scheduled myself to have surgery like the third week in January!" He said that apparently, the bone stimulator was actually doing some good, to stay off of NSAIDs as much as possible, and to still keep my activity low-key.
So, I forgot to even update you guys - NO SURGERY!!!!
For now, at least...
I go back next week, I think, to see if we've progressed any more. But seeing that tiny piece of bone in there, I was like "WOOHOO!!!!" I'm still on the bone stim, but I forget to use it every once in a while. My pain has subsided a lot, but I'm still going in to have an SI block on the 15th of this month. It's just because I have bad days, where it starts acting up and won't stop for anything. They're pretty few and far between, but they happen. I think this next block might be the one to stop all the pain I've been having. And, in the next couple of months, if I'm still doing good with my healing, I should be able to go back to the gym!
In l33tspeak terms, I'd like to just add OMFG D00d [)1$ is t3h UBER 1337 R0XX0RZ ("omfg, dude, dis is teh uber leet roxxorz" or "yo, this is awesome")
Just thought I'd throw that in, cause I'm pretty excited about it. Time to go home and catch up on some Degrassi! &=D
Btw, it's totally storming over here, so if you guys are in the warpath of Mother Nature, batten down the hatches and be safe! I'll see you guys after the storm!!!
So, we're all sitting around today (it's been a dead day), and UB makes a phone call. She's sitting in the middle of all us techs and makes the remark to the person on the phone that she's NOT looking forward to coming to day shift, because there are several techs around here who just don't like to work, but she's got to do this until she finds something else (that last part told in a sing-songy voice).
Well, guess what, honey-pie? No one's looking forward to having you here. And, I can assure you that is pretty much the general consensus. We're ALL dreading it.
Now, I know that she's just narcissistic enough to think that what she said above is an incredibly "ballsy" thing for her to say, that she's such a rebel to say that in front of all of us, because AFTER ALL, she IS the greatest thing since sliced bread! I mean, if anyone deserves recognition for her work with humanity, it would be UB. (I'm SO totally rolling my eyes - that was pure and straight-up irony.)
Now, let me tell you WHY she's pissed. Among one of the reasons being because I was born, there were two portables that came up today, at the same time, for PICC lines, and they called to say the patients were ready for someone to come shoot the x-rays. I took the phone call, and then I told her, because guess what? It was my lunch time, and there was NO reason for me to not go to lunch on time. Plus, after the YEARS of shit she's put me through, there's no WAY I'm doing anything to benefit her, IN ANY WAY. I wouldn't take a dump on her if she was on fire. She's just that kind of person who says things, just so she can get a rise out of you. She likes to pick fights. Oh, and I forgot to mention, she's a 4-foot-tall, 50-year-old woman, aka. wouldn't you think someone would have grown out of that high school bully mentality by now? Well, not her. Not by a LOOOOOOONG shot. In fact, I'm betting that she's either bipolar or she's getting so old that senility is starting to kick in.
For years (I'm actually not exaggerating this time), this woman has had me ending up in Chris' office, in tears, with him backed against the wall, and me screaming, "ARE YOU SURE I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG??!?! WOULD YOU TELL ME IF I WAS???? WELL, WHY DOES SHE KEEP GETTING ON MY CASE??!?!?!?"
All he would say was, "Just ignore her. You know she's crazy. She's been like this for 30-some years, and she'll never change. JUST IGNORE HER."
This was a weekly occurrence, these confrontation/breakdowns. It got so ridiculous that after a while, I finally got a hold of the "just ignore her" part. You know what? I've got that shit down to a SCIENCE now. I can go an ENTIRE day without speaking to her, like she doesn't even exist. The fact that I'm wasting a blog on her is pretty ridiculous, but it's boring here today, and my mind is abnormally blank.
Anyway, work hasn't been so great lately. I've been real...itchy. I think I just need to take a vacation or something, because I've been here for almost four years, with no off-time aside from surgery.
Oh! Speaking of which...on to far more important topics.
I never blagged about it, but the last time I went to see Dr. Stannard about my knee (mid-Dec), I actually received some good news! I had x-rays made and sat in my exam room, until Wynne came and got me, to sit and look at my images with him. As I walked up and sat down, I pointed at the screen and said, "Woah! What's that???"
There was the TINIEST BIT of bone growth in between the two broken pieces, where the bone graft was supposed to be! It was little, but it was definitely there and it was definitely bigger than last time! I said, "What does this mean??? I'd already pre-scheduled myself to have surgery like the third week in January!" He said that apparently, the bone stimulator was actually doing some good, to stay off of NSAIDs as much as possible, and to still keep my activity low-key.
So, I forgot to even update you guys - NO SURGERY!!!!
For now, at least...
I go back next week, I think, to see if we've progressed any more. But seeing that tiny piece of bone in there, I was like "WOOHOO!!!!" I'm still on the bone stim, but I forget to use it every once in a while. My pain has subsided a lot, but I'm still going in to have an SI block on the 15th of this month. It's just because I have bad days, where it starts acting up and won't stop for anything. They're pretty few and far between, but they happen. I think this next block might be the one to stop all the pain I've been having. And, in the next couple of months, if I'm still doing good with my healing, I should be able to go back to the gym!
In l33tspeak terms, I'd like to just add OMFG D00d [)1$ is t3h UBER 1337 R0XX0RZ ("omfg, dude, dis is teh uber leet roxxorz" or "yo, this is awesome")
Just thought I'd throw that in, cause I'm pretty excited about it. Time to go home and catch up on some Degrassi! &=D
Btw, it's totally storming over here, so if you guys are in the warpath of Mother Nature, batten down the hatches and be safe! I'll see you guys after the storm!!!
1.09.2008
No Utero, No Cry (my apologies to Bob Marley)
Guess what? I'm getting the Pie fixed on Friday!!!! I'm so excited! She's my baby girl, but this is the longest I've EVER gone before getting one of my cats fixed. And, holy crap, I'll never let it happen again.
There are nights I would just lay awake and listen to her cry and whine and go up and down the stairs and put her heinie up in Booboo's face and proposition and holler and howl and crow, etc.
Ahhh, it's been a long time coming. Now, I think all three of us will be able to sleep at night!
Booboo actually had some babies before I adopted her (her original name was Mama Kitty Booboo), and when she came to the Huntsville office, one of her babies was left there with her. So, I went, with every intention of bringing her home, and when I found out she had a baby there, too, I got them to bring her out to see her baby, but they didn't really like each other. So, I ended up with just her, which was totally fine with me, even though she spent her first week smashed between the cabinets and the top of the fridge.
Jammy Pie was found in someone's driveway, during a thunderstorm, huddled with three of her brothers. The mom was nowhere to be found, so they either wandered away or the mom had been hit by a car or something. Anyway, she rode all the way home in the sleeve of my jacket, because she was so scared (It's actually kinda hard to drive a car with a kitten in your sleeve). And, when I got her home, she was COVERED in fleas, so I bathed her in the sink at least once a day for a few weeks. I'm pretty sure she had worms, but we remedied that quickly. Pie didn't have a name, so I let Shelby name her.
Anyway, Booboo used to talk to me, but since the Pie came along, you rarely ever get to hear Booboo's voice, unless she really wants something. And they're funny - the play together all the time, but they never sleep together. Booboo will either sleep on her pillow, in her tiny little bed, in my computer chair, or in her green, plastic house. Pie will only sleep on a pillow or lounges on the floor, at the edge of the attic, which makes me a nervous wreck. Every once in a while, I'll go through a period where I'll let them sleep with me, but if I have guests or change the sheets, they have to keep to the floor - which I'm PRETTY sure they don't do while I'm at work. I miss having a door to my room.
Plus, I bought another one of those oil-filled radiators, so I put the old, white one by them, and the new, black one by me. On really cold days, I'll drag their beds closer to that heater and turn it on. You can almost hear them purring from across the room. They really are spoiled, and I really am a crazy cat lady.
Well, I'd be a crazy PET lady if I had all the animals I really want. I actually want to have a farm, where people can bring animals to "drop off" - that way, I can see to it that they get fixed, then they can live with me and run free! &=D I'll have to somehow keep everyone separated, because I don't want the dogs eating the cats, and the cats eating the chinchillas and sugar gliders, and then the otter pond will have to be cordoned off, so the alligators can't get in...but what am I supposed to do if the tigers and giraffes want water? I'm assuming the donkeys and elephants will have to be farthest from the house, so I can't hear them braying and trumpeting early in the morning.
I really should come up with a better diagram than the one I have...
Ah! I'm getting sidetracked. I'm just excited that the Jam is getting fixed. I hope this will calm her down a bit, but I don't want it to turn her into someone else. I like her just the way she is - she's my talker. She talks because I talk, because I've been talking to her since I brought her home.
We were afraid the same thing was going to happen to Jezzabelle after we got her fixed. But, it didn't. She was still the same lovable, crazy girl with whom we fell in love. Sweet, baby girl - I miss her. She'll be 3 this year. I still have to take her Christmas box by her daddy's house. I bought her like $100 worth of stuff. I bought the cats some stuff, too, but they're just happy if I bring in a cardboard box or plastic bags for them to play in, hide in and rip to shreds.
I did manage to find a fishing pole that I anchored in the closet doors. They play with that all the time. Of course, Booboo just reaches up with one of her massively disproportionate hands and grabs it with her disturbing, opposable thumb. Then, Jammy comes around, jumping and dancing like a goof. But I love to watch them, and they love to play with it.
One of my favorite things they used to do was, when Jammy was a baby, and Booboo would get in that crunchy, green house, Jam would jump on the back of it and make the whole house collapse. Booboo would come out, ears turned back, looking SO pissed. So, I'd build the house back up, Booboo would go back in, and it would happen all over again. I couldn't help but laugh, because this would happen like 50 times a day. I don't even know why Booboo likes that gross thing. I got it at Walmart for like $5. Her kitty bed, I got for my other kitty, Biscuit, who ran away when I was teaching him to go outside (hence, why my kitties don't go out), and their two giant pillows they sleep on, one is Jezzy's old bed that she ate the zipper off of, and the other belonged to another dog who used to stay with me.
Yeah, I'm kittified today. Sue me. Kitties are fun. I do want to get a dog, but I think I'm going to have to wait. Until something. Maybe when I get more money. Maybe when I move out of this house. Maybe when I find the right one. I want a big dog, but I want one who doesn't have abundant amounts of energy, one who's just happy sitting at home with us and watching tv. And, obviously one who likes kitties.
I know - I'm so picky. I like my dogs like my men - adorable and malleable (trainable). &=D
In fact, I think I'm going to go sit in the shower for a while, disinfect myself.
There are nights I would just lay awake and listen to her cry and whine and go up and down the stairs and put her heinie up in Booboo's face and proposition and holler and howl and crow, etc.
Ahhh, it's been a long time coming. Now, I think all three of us will be able to sleep at night!
Booboo actually had some babies before I adopted her (her original name was Mama Kitty Booboo), and when she came to the Huntsville office, one of her babies was left there with her. So, I went, with every intention of bringing her home, and when I found out she had a baby there, too, I got them to bring her out to see her baby, but they didn't really like each other. So, I ended up with just her, which was totally fine with me, even though she spent her first week smashed between the cabinets and the top of the fridge.
Jammy Pie was found in someone's driveway, during a thunderstorm, huddled with three of her brothers. The mom was nowhere to be found, so they either wandered away or the mom had been hit by a car or something. Anyway, she rode all the way home in the sleeve of my jacket, because she was so scared (It's actually kinda hard to drive a car with a kitten in your sleeve). And, when I got her home, she was COVERED in fleas, so I bathed her in the sink at least once a day for a few weeks. I'm pretty sure she had worms, but we remedied that quickly. Pie didn't have a name, so I let Shelby name her.
Anyway, Booboo used to talk to me, but since the Pie came along, you rarely ever get to hear Booboo's voice, unless she really wants something. And they're funny - the play together all the time, but they never sleep together. Booboo will either sleep on her pillow, in her tiny little bed, in my computer chair, or in her green, plastic house. Pie will only sleep on a pillow or lounges on the floor, at the edge of the attic, which makes me a nervous wreck. Every once in a while, I'll go through a period where I'll let them sleep with me, but if I have guests or change the sheets, they have to keep to the floor - which I'm PRETTY sure they don't do while I'm at work. I miss having a door to my room.
Plus, I bought another one of those oil-filled radiators, so I put the old, white one by them, and the new, black one by me. On really cold days, I'll drag their beds closer to that heater and turn it on. You can almost hear them purring from across the room. They really are spoiled, and I really am a crazy cat lady.
Well, I'd be a crazy PET lady if I had all the animals I really want. I actually want to have a farm, where people can bring animals to "drop off" - that way, I can see to it that they get fixed, then they can live with me and run free! &=D I'll have to somehow keep everyone separated, because I don't want the dogs eating the cats, and the cats eating the chinchillas and sugar gliders, and then the otter pond will have to be cordoned off, so the alligators can't get in...but what am I supposed to do if the tigers and giraffes want water? I'm assuming the donkeys and elephants will have to be farthest from the house, so I can't hear them braying and trumpeting early in the morning.
I really should come up with a better diagram than the one I have...
Ah! I'm getting sidetracked. I'm just excited that the Jam is getting fixed. I hope this will calm her down a bit, but I don't want it to turn her into someone else. I like her just the way she is - she's my talker. She talks because I talk, because I've been talking to her since I brought her home.
We were afraid the same thing was going to happen to Jezzabelle after we got her fixed. But, it didn't. She was still the same lovable, crazy girl with whom we fell in love. Sweet, baby girl - I miss her. She'll be 3 this year. I still have to take her Christmas box by her daddy's house. I bought her like $100 worth of stuff. I bought the cats some stuff, too, but they're just happy if I bring in a cardboard box or plastic bags for them to play in, hide in and rip to shreds.
I did manage to find a fishing pole that I anchored in the closet doors. They play with that all the time. Of course, Booboo just reaches up with one of her massively disproportionate hands and grabs it with her disturbing, opposable thumb. Then, Jammy comes around, jumping and dancing like a goof. But I love to watch them, and they love to play with it.
One of my favorite things they used to do was, when Jammy was a baby, and Booboo would get in that crunchy, green house, Jam would jump on the back of it and make the whole house collapse. Booboo would come out, ears turned back, looking SO pissed. So, I'd build the house back up, Booboo would go back in, and it would happen all over again. I couldn't help but laugh, because this would happen like 50 times a day. I don't even know why Booboo likes that gross thing. I got it at Walmart for like $5. Her kitty bed, I got for my other kitty, Biscuit, who ran away when I was teaching him to go outside (hence, why my kitties don't go out), and their two giant pillows they sleep on, one is Jezzy's old bed that she ate the zipper off of, and the other belonged to another dog who used to stay with me.
Yeah, I'm kittified today. Sue me. Kitties are fun. I do want to get a dog, but I think I'm going to have to wait. Until something. Maybe when I get more money. Maybe when I move out of this house. Maybe when I find the right one. I want a big dog, but I want one who doesn't have abundant amounts of energy, one who's just happy sitting at home with us and watching tv. And, obviously one who likes kitties.
I know - I'm so picky. I like my dogs like my men - adorable and malleable (trainable). &=D
Ok, so I'm still sick, Amy said Shelb is at home throwing up (FEEL BETTER, LU!),
Dave went home from the hospital today, with some respiratory infection (FEEL BETTER, DAVE!), and one of our ortho docs has been so sick, he's canceled his clinics AND his surgeries for the past several days. It's been way bad around here.In fact, I think I'm going to go sit in the shower for a while, disinfect myself.
1.07.2008
Yodeling cats & bitchy nurses make for not fun days
So ok. I just got back from the doctor's office. I called in to work today, because I was feeling so horrible this morning and all through the night.
My doc thinks I have mono.
I'm thinking no, since it never is.
It started in my head (no, not mental, believe it or not), congestion, sore throat, bloody phlegm, the whole nine years, migrated down into my sinuses and both my ears, and now it's in my neck and throat. It feels really weird. I've never had this sensation before, where the outside of my neck is hurting. Even the underside of my tongue hurts. And, I'm having these spectacular headaches.
There was this lady sitting next to me, outside the lab, and she was hacking so hard and so loud that people were turning around to look at her. She belted out, "I'M NOT CONTAGIOUS!," then continued spreading her seed of death among us.
Then, I had to fight with the people in the lab, because he ordered a mono swab, and they said there's no such thing. So, I had to hike BACK to his office to get them to write me a note on my lab slip, then hike back down to the lab and listen to the woman practically berate me for even SUGGESTING that such a test exists. Lemme just go ahead and preface this by saying, I really, REALLY don't feel good right now, and now's not a good time to fuck with me. SO, she starts in on me, and I said, "LOOK, LADY. I DON'T work here. I DON'T know these things, OKAY?????? I'm just telling you what HE TOLD ME. You'll have to call him and take it up with him."
Just so you know, I don't normally blindside people with comments like that, but hey, Imma at the doctor because I DON'T FEEL GOOD. I'm really sorry peoples go to the doctor when they're not sick, but that's not my issue today, hokay? So, like, get off me.
It hurts when I turn my head, it hurts when I swallow, it hurts when I talk. I'm not ezactly working on Ms. Congeniality title today. And, people at doctor's offices should be more considerate. And, less asinine and offensive.
Anyway, he put me on some bactrim, but of course, if this is viral, it won't help anything. He said he's just going to treat me as if I have mono. I wonder if this means I have to wear some sort of biohazard suit to work tomorrow. I hope not, because mine's out for alterations.
I haven't filled my scrip yet, because I have other runnings-around that need to be done, and I don't feel like it right this second. I think I'm going to go drink some more green dragon, then lay down for a bit, because I feel...light-headed.
This is teh suck. I don't like being sick. I like TENDING TO the sick.
Ok, Jammy's smushing my papers all over the floor. Her time will come next week, when I get her tail fixed. She's been scaling the railing of my staircase like some kind of yodeling mountain climber, complete with yodeling...by a cat in heat. I can relate somewhat, but right now, I'm having that "I'd rather be living under the bed" feeling. And, since I'm still just a mattress on the floor, that would work rather well. I'm sure Aerospace Memory Foam mattress material works just as well from the bottom as it does from the top.
Let's check - zzzzzzzzzzzzz...............
My doc thinks I have mono.
I'm thinking no, since it never is.
It started in my head (no, not mental, believe it or not), congestion, sore throat, bloody phlegm, the whole nine years, migrated down into my sinuses and both my ears, and now it's in my neck and throat. It feels really weird. I've never had this sensation before, where the outside of my neck is hurting. Even the underside of my tongue hurts. And, I'm having these spectacular headaches.
There was this lady sitting next to me, outside the lab, and she was hacking so hard and so loud that people were turning around to look at her. She belted out, "I'M NOT CONTAGIOUS!," then continued spreading her seed of death among us.
Then, I had to fight with the people in the lab, because he ordered a mono swab, and they said there's no such thing. So, I had to hike BACK to his office to get them to write me a note on my lab slip, then hike back down to the lab and listen to the woman practically berate me for even SUGGESTING that such a test exists. Lemme just go ahead and preface this by saying, I really, REALLY don't feel good right now, and now's not a good time to fuck with me. SO, she starts in on me, and I said, "LOOK, LADY. I DON'T work here. I DON'T know these things, OKAY?????? I'm just telling you what HE TOLD ME. You'll have to call him and take it up with him."
Just so you know, I don't normally blindside people with comments like that, but hey, Imma at the doctor because I DON'T FEEL GOOD. I'm really sorry peoples go to the doctor when they're not sick, but that's not my issue today, hokay? So, like, get off me.
It hurts when I turn my head, it hurts when I swallow, it hurts when I talk. I'm not ezactly working on Ms. Congeniality title today. And, people at doctor's offices should be more considerate. And, less asinine and offensive.
Anyway, he put me on some bactrim, but of course, if this is viral, it won't help anything. He said he's just going to treat me as if I have mono. I wonder if this means I have to wear some sort of biohazard suit to work tomorrow. I hope not, because mine's out for alterations.
I haven't filled my scrip yet, because I have other runnings-around that need to be done, and I don't feel like it right this second. I think I'm going to go drink some more green dragon, then lay down for a bit, because I feel...light-headed.
This is teh suck. I don't like being sick. I like TENDING TO the sick.
Ok, Jammy's smushing my papers all over the floor. Her time will come next week, when I get her tail fixed. She's been scaling the railing of my staircase like some kind of yodeling mountain climber, complete with yodeling...by a cat in heat. I can relate somewhat, but right now, I'm having that "I'd rather be living under the bed" feeling. And, since I'm still just a mattress on the floor, that would work rather well. I'm sure Aerospace Memory Foam mattress material works just as well from the bottom as it does from the top.
Let's check - zzzzzzzzzzzzz...............
1.06.2008
My brain has a cold
I'm tore up on cold meds right now. I don't know what I've got, but it's making my neck swell and hurt. I called my doc's office last week, and they never called me anything in.
Butts.
I feel floaty and weird, and my body feels numb. More numb than usual. Physically numb.
So, anyway, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. I'm sorta dealing with a lot of confusion and that whole biological clock thing, so I'm trying really hard to stay away from people. Sorry I haven't been taking phone calls...or making them...or bathing. I actually cleaned a bit this weekend, trying to make it somewhat presentable in here. But, I DO live in an attic, soooo.... My place always looks like I should be living in a moving van. I don't think I'll ever truly unpack until I'm in my own house. I'd love to have something real, something on which I could rely.
Did I say "someone?" I didn't mean to. Although, I was thinking it.
My mind is a complete grey cloud right now. I can't even see inside it. It's all muddled and sick.
It feels like it's all scrambly and bewildered, consumed by strange, nothingness thoughts.
'Course, right now, it doesn't matter, because I'm captivated by the cartoons. Mmmmm....I love watching cartoons. I'm hungry, too. I wonder what I want.
I want a someone to shake up my life. I want my sleepovers back. I want to get up in the middle of the night and go to the gas station, just because. I want someone who inspires me to take advantage of the freedoms I have. I want to stay up all night, talking, staring...dare I say - cuddling. I want us to take off work for no reason other than laying in the bed or having a day to ourselves.
*sigh*
Ouch. My neck is bothering me.
Ok, the tv is calling my name. I must answer.
Butts.
I feel floaty and weird, and my body feels numb. More numb than usual. Physically numb.
So, anyway, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. I'm sorta dealing with a lot of confusion and that whole biological clock thing, so I'm trying really hard to stay away from people. Sorry I haven't been taking phone calls...or making them...or bathing. I actually cleaned a bit this weekend, trying to make it somewhat presentable in here. But, I DO live in an attic, soooo.... My place always looks like I should be living in a moving van. I don't think I'll ever truly unpack until I'm in my own house. I'd love to have something real, something on which I could rely.
Did I say "someone?" I didn't mean to. Although, I was thinking it.
My mind is a complete grey cloud right now. I can't even see inside it. It's all muddled and sick.
It feels like it's all scrambly and bewildered, consumed by strange, nothingness thoughts.
'Course, right now, it doesn't matter, because I'm captivated by the cartoons. Mmmmm....I love watching cartoons. I'm hungry, too. I wonder what I want.
I want a someone to shake up my life. I want my sleepovers back. I want to get up in the middle of the night and go to the gas station, just because. I want someone who inspires me to take advantage of the freedoms I have. I want to stay up all night, talking, staring...dare I say - cuddling. I want us to take off work for no reason other than laying in the bed or having a day to ourselves.
*sigh*
Ouch. My neck is bothering me.
Ok, the tv is calling my name. I must answer.
1.04.2008
Where did you come from?
You worked your way in too fast, and I wasn't ready. I wasn't prepared. I didn't know you were there, but I wasn't really paying attention either. I never do. And, then I got to know more about you, and it seemed the more I knew, the more I wanted to know. The more you were around, the more I wanted you there. The more I looked at you, the more I wanted to see.
How unfair. You've caught me completely unawares.
I'm envious of you, though. I'm envious of the fact that I know you can do so much better than me. I know that you probably should. And, while I'm undeserving, for you, I'm also unreserving. I have so much to give, in what feels like so little time.
Affection became an issue in my life, but it became more about rejection, an art I've perfected - somewhat unfortunately. Sometimes it seems I'm much more accomplished at pushing away than pulling in. But, it's because I don't want to be the one who didn't know, the one who was out of the loop, the one who didn't pick up on the signals. So, I pride myself on walking away - something I loathe but cannot quit.
It's strange, though. I go through the same thought patterns I always have. "I'm giving this entirely too much thought. I'm reading way too much into this. I'm getting attached much to early on." But it's the one good thing I can dwell on, where it doesn't make it seem like I'm at fault for something.
Narcissism? Sure. But in the other direction. The complete antithesis. The enemy. I've said it before: I need validation for existence.
I don't write because I hope you read.
I write because I need to think.
I hope that one day, you get homesick for me.
How unfair. You've caught me completely unawares.
I'm envious of you, though. I'm envious of the fact that I know you can do so much better than me. I know that you probably should. And, while I'm undeserving, for you, I'm also unreserving. I have so much to give, in what feels like so little time.
Affection became an issue in my life, but it became more about rejection, an art I've perfected - somewhat unfortunately. Sometimes it seems I'm much more accomplished at pushing away than pulling in. But, it's because I don't want to be the one who didn't know, the one who was out of the loop, the one who didn't pick up on the signals. So, I pride myself on walking away - something I loathe but cannot quit.
It's strange, though. I go through the same thought patterns I always have. "I'm giving this entirely too much thought. I'm reading way too much into this. I'm getting attached much to early on." But it's the one good thing I can dwell on, where it doesn't make it seem like I'm at fault for something.
Narcissism? Sure. But in the other direction. The complete antithesis. The enemy. I've said it before: I need validation for existence.
I don't write because I hope you read.
I write because I need to think.
I hope that one day, you get homesick for me.
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