Tuesday, August 31, 2010

earworm of the day

so inspired by the empress over here, i'm thinking of starting a bit of a new blog gimmick called 'earworm of the day'.  

earworms are those fucking songs that get stuck in your head.  like, really stuck.  to the point where you have to kill someone or blow your brains out to get that song out of your head.

for an interesting twist on my own personal earworms, i literally wake up with a song playing in my head every morning.  i routinely tell awesome husband about it.  for weeks, it was this one song that i love.

but now i love it considerably less, since i kept hearing it, in it's entirety, in my fucking head.

my idea is to share with you, faithful readers (all, like, 9 of you), that song.  i will put a link to a youtube version of it if at all possible, so you can hear a bit of what goes on in my head on a daily basis.

because i'm dead serious.  some people wake up to an alarm clock.  i wake up with a song playing in my head.  i TOLD you i was batshit crazy.  is it my fault you didn't believe me?  maybe the songs are actually from the alarm clocks that belong to the voices in my head.


anyway, this morning (and, might i add, yesterday morning too) i woke up with 'doubt full' by new found glory playing in my head.  it's off their catalyst album, which i totally love.  for now.  i guess it depends how many more days i wake up hearing this song.

so, let me know what you think.  not of the song, i don't need you to tell me how much new found glory rocks.  but of this idea about sharing even more idiocy from my brain cavity.

in other news... well, there is no other news right now.  i'm in fucking florida, it's fucking hot, and i'm full of hate and dislike for these things, among many other things.  so there.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

just a quick thought...

i was reading a few articles about glenn beck's 'restoring honor' bullshit in washington today.  i won't get into why i dislike him or his 9.12 'project' or any of this tea party crap.  well, i won't today.  that might be another post.

i know you can't change people's minds.  you can't tell them what to believe or not to believe.  but we are all students and teachers, and one of my personal things is educating people - enlightening them - helping them open their minds.  i like to promote tolerance, acceptance, love.

like, if you're a glenn beck fan, and agree with what he says.  IF i were to try and change your mind.  IF i wanted to talk to you and tell you why beck is wrong or whatever, i wouldn't just say 'he's wrong and you're stupid'.  i'd have examples, reasons why i think he is wrong, proof of his own words and deeds that show he is promoting hate and intolerance.

but do you ever just NOT feel like doing that?  i have a list of reasons why i disagree with the tea party movement.  i have a list of examples of why beck is a liar and how he promotes intolerance or hate.  i can whip them out and share them at a moment's notice.  but i sometimes feel like i'm banging my head on a brick wall.  you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink.

so i can share my opinion and ideas, and tell people why they should or should not support one person or another, but i can't change their mind. 

and honestly?  that makes me sad.  not that i want to control people's minds or free will, but that someone could support a person like beck, who is so intolerant and full of hate.  it just makes me sad that some people cannot see the truth that is in front of their faces.

and sometimes, i just don't want to have to keep showing them.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

i applied for college, and all i got was this lousy tee shirt

this last month has been a bit of a self-imposed whirlwind for me.  i quit my contracting job august 1 after what i affectionately call a 'mini-nervy b' aka nervous breakdown.  i work from home for a few reasons.  we only have one car.  i have degenerative arthritis in my foot, which hindered my working at the happiest place on earth (yes, that's right, i worked at disney world).   and living in such a high tourist area, standing-and-walking-around jobs are about all i could find.  i also am batshit crazy.  i have quit many jobs in the past after calling in 'sick' for a day or two, when i was having a really bad time, fearing that my managers would know i was crazy when i came back after my sick days.  seriously.  that's why i had had 13 jobs by the time i was 20.  

i know that number for a fact because i was part of a welfare-to-work program where we literally had to list every job we'd ever had, where it was, and the contact information.  when you're on welfare, they make you go to classes about writing resumes and shit like that.

oh, yes.  i was on welfare.  but that's another post for another day.  suffice it to say, i had 13 jobs between the ages of 16 and 20.  i know one was a temp position, and i left two because they refused to promote me. i was fired from one for 'showing a lack of interest in my job'.  that was a good one.  i was a cashier at a grand union in new york, and i was under 18, so technically my parent's divorce agreement of visiting-my-dad-once-a-week was still legally in effect.  i told my managers that because of that agreement, i would not be able to work sundays.  they said 'that's fine, sundays are time and a half anyway, so the more senior cashiers get to take those days'.  great.  

until they scheduled me for a sunday.  i told them the monday before that i could not work it.  they told me they'd take care of it.  i didn't go to work on sunday.  monday afternoon, after school, i show up for my shift and they wouldn't give me my drawer in the cashier's office.  they sent me to the manager.  he fired me for 'showing a lack of interest in my job'.  

there you go.

anyway. so when a friend of the family introduced me to this work from home opportunity, i was very interested.  there was a layout of money involved, which i had to borrow from my mom.  but i upgraded my computer, awesome husband and i ran a new phone line to my home office, and off i went.  i ended up being subcontracted to the same company for about two and a half years.  i did sales over the phone and online in a chat environment.  i would work usually about 20-25 hours a week, and make around $13 an hour.  tax time is a bitch, because they don't take taxes out, but we've managed all this time.  and it was good.

but for some reason, i just couldn't do it any more.  they kept making it harder for us to do our jobs right. many of the people over me, people who were supposed to help me and give me the right information, were not doing so.  they kept telling us we weren't doing good enough.  now, there is a different between positive reinforcement and motivation, and being shit on all the time.  i felt like we were being shit on all the time.  i was carrying on three different conversations with three different customers at the same time, and was expected to type an answer to each one within 20 seconds.   my wrists started protesting the constant typing.  i started having trouble sleeping.  i started thinking about not having to work.  thinking about moving back to new york.  thinking about putting my fist through the computer screen.  

the problem with being batshit crazy, is you eventually act on these thoughts.  i was diagnosed with clinical depression in 1999.  i have been in and out of treatment, on and off medications, since then.  i had two serious car accidents in 2004 and 2005, respectively.  i was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, which i still suffer from.  i have various anxiety disorders.  i am fucked up.  and i had been off medication for more than four years.  with this job, i had lost my ability to make choices and i felt cornered, trapped.  i acted on some of my thoughts.  i took a week off for medical reasons to think it over.  and as you all know, i ended up quitting.

so i've spent this past month not working.  i mess around on the computer.  i was sewing a bit, but have taken some time off from that as well, as i adjust to my new medication.  i sleep somewhere between 9 and 10 hours a day still from this medication.  i did 8.5 hours yesterday, and that's a victory.  but i've been having pretty bad headaches, which i'll have to discuss with my doctor again tomorrow when i see him.

and i've spent a lot of time writing and finding me again.  i thought about what i would do when we move back to new york.  with public transportation, i wouldn't need to have another car to work outside of the home.  there are desk jobs and shit in new york (you'd be surprised how hard it is to find like a data entry position here in the tourist capital of the world.  if you're not in service or travel/hospitality, good luck).  but so many of them require schooling.  which is why i decided to try and go back to school.  i don't like the idea of putting myself even further in debt, but i think in the long run it will be worth it.

i was talking to awesome husband about it a few days ago, and i realized something.  i'm thirty years old, and i haven't accomplished anything.  okay, like i have - i know that.  i'm married, we own a home, we have a beautiful cat family.  i overcame obstacles like being on welfare, living in my car, and being an addict.  but what do i have?  what do i have to show for it?  i'm batshit crazy, a big girl, and 'self-employed' but not making any money.  my friends have children, husbands and wives, cats and dogs, degrees and vacations.  i realized that me just being able to say 'i have a degree' would make me happy.  it will make me feel accomplished in a socially acceptable way.  i can't wander around saying 'i'm a recovering addict'.  it doesn't look good on a resume.  

and i still haven't accomplished anything, since there seem to be way more steps to getting into college than i remember there being 13 years ago.

Monday, August 23, 2010

a little more prepared for the zombie apocalypse

i finally caved on saturday and bought these zombie shoes i've been eyeing since march.  i kept telling myself 'i have no where to wear them', 'i have one dress that would match them', and 'i might kill myself or someone else trying to walk in 4" heels'. 

regardless, i now own these shoes.

iron fist zombie stomper shoes

that's right.  those are mine.  we had to go to the mall on saturday so awesome husband could buy parts for our lawn mower's tune up (right?  lawn mowers need tune ups.  this is why i have a husband.  also, he actually *mows* the lawn).  and i got this email that torrid (fave place to buy big girl clothes) was having a 50% off clearance sale.  AND some kind of promotion where you spend $50 and get a coupon for $25 off your next purchase.  so super clearance prices and free money? sign me up!

i was thinking about getting a new pair of jeans, so we checked out the clearance jeans - they were also offering $20 off full price jeans.  so i took three pairs into the changing room, and the clearance ones actually rocked the hardest.  $60 jeans for $19 - thank you.  so now i have another $31 to spend so i can get my coupon.  we checked clearance: nothing else i really wanted.  awesome husband doesn't like me in plaid, so i didn't buy one of the eight billion plaid shirts that were there.  some tops were too dressy.  eh.

then we were looking at the shoes.  damn them, those zombie shoes were on display!  i lovingly cradled the shoe, marveling at the FUCKING HIGH HEEL that i may or may not twist my ankle in.  the salesgirl comes over and asks, very innocently, 'can i help you?'

while i was tempted to say 'no, i'm beyond help' i said 'i think i'd like to try on this shoe, to see if i can stand up in it'.  a good laugh was had by all (read: me and the salesgirl.  awesome husband was probably pretending he didn't know me).  she brings it out in a 9, which is what i usually wear.  but this shoe is specifically for big girls- it's wide.  so i needed an 8.  which she didn't have... in zombie shoe.  she had it in the same shoe, different colors or something.  so i'm like, 'well, bring it out and if i like it i can order the zombie one online'.

and i thought to myself  'i probably won't.  i'll chicken out again, like i have been since march - for five months - and not buy it'. 

then she walks out with the zombie shoe in an 8.  she found it way in the corner.

so i readjusted my peds. she unwrapped the shoes for me.  i slid on the right shoe first, then the left.  and i stood up.

and was super tall.  like almost 6' tall.  and scared shitless.  i looked at awesome husband, and he was looking at the shoes.  i asked, 'how do they look?'

salesgirl says 'there's a mirror over there'.  wait - i have to WALK in these things?!?? 

so i hobble... er, walk to the mirror.  and fall in love.  they look SO FUCKING GREAT.  and i walk back to salesgirl and awesome husband, and he's like 'you can walk in them.'

me:  um, not really.  they're really fucking high.

awesome husband: how much do you walk anyway?  from the car to the table, then back to the car.

(we don't like go out clubbing or dancing.  we go out drinking or eating.  walking is not involved.)

me:  hmm...

awesome husband:  they're really cool, and you don't have to walk far in them.

me:  hmm...

awesome husband: you should get them.

me:  hmmm....

i should point out here that awesome husband rarely gives me a definite 'yes' or 'no' on whether i should purchase things.  he is honest (mostly) on whether clothing items look good or not on me, but his answer to 'should i get this?' is usually 'if you want to' or 'do you like it?'.  very non committal.  so for him to say that...

i told the sales girl i'd take them.  i felt this crazy rush of shoe-related adrenaline that carried me and my debit card to the register.  i handed over my frequent shopper card and debit card, talking about wearing the shoes the entire time.  when we got home, i showed them to mom and she was less than enthusiastic about them.  i think she thinks i might fall and break something while wearing them.  she asked, 'why are you teetering around in them?' i wanted to answer 'because they are FUCKING 4" HIGH and i usually wear flip flops' but all i said was 'the bottoms are slippery'.  our floors are tile.

i think she bought it.

now i just need to find somewhere to wear them.  awesome husband has suggested chili's.  i know he did that only because he wants two for one beers.  plus, i think they're a little awesome for chili's.

the other big news is that i finally contacted a school about getting my associates degree.  for those of you who don't know me, i never went to college.  well, i went for a few days and dropped out.  so not my scene.  but now with all this online learning and shit, i figure i can do it from home. so i'm looking to get my associates in early education.  which is ridiculous, i know, because everyone thinks i hate children.  it's not that i hate them.  i just don't want my own.  and i hate the annoying ones.

of course, i don't qualify for any government grants.  even though we don't make a ton of money, have a car payment, a mortgage payment, etc. etc. etc.  apparently you have to be near or under the poverty line to qualify for any help.  so now i have to hope that i can get loans to cover it.  or find a sugar daddy/mommy really fast who doesn't mind paying for my school without any kind of sexual favors involved.  because, hello, i'm not a prostitute.  so if you know any of those, send them my way.  because my credit is pretty much in the shitter, and i'm not feeling super great about getting approved for any kind of loan.  i hope student loans are like super easy to get.  le sigh.

and the final bit of news is that i finally sold one of my bags online!  to someone i don't know personally!  someone just saw it online and was like 'omg i heart that bag enough to pay money for it' and sent me money!  awesome!  if you want to see them, you can check rule42custom.com.

so that's my weekend in a nutshell.  i didn't really do anything except buy awesome shoes and find out that i can have a couple of drinks on my medication without dying or something.  which is nice, because i totally miss margaritas.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

freedom of religion... really?

as one who practices an 'alternative religion' (read: not judeo-christian in nature) i know i am a bit more sensitive to the ideas of religious freedom and the separation of church and state than your general american.  and the conservative/republican/GOP/fundies have turned this mosque at ground zero thing into a national news story... only because it's an election year.  you know i'm right.  don't try to deny it.

let's get a few things straight and out of the way before i get into this.  i am a neo-pagan.  i do not participate in any of the major three religions (which, in case you didn't know, are judaism, christianity, and islam.  that's right - muslims make up one of the largest religious groups worldwide).  i actually do not belong to any dogmatic religion, including wicca, because the 167 tenets are a bit much as far as i'm concerned. but that's another post for another day. 

i also am a new yorker.  i know, i know, i currently live in florida.  but while you can take a girl out of new york, you can't take the new york out of a girl.  i go back to new york three or four times a year, and am actually planning on moving back there because florida sucks an awful lot of floppy donkey dick.  i lived in new york on 9/11.  i could look down hempstead turnpike on long island and see the smoke from ground zero.  i saw the smoldering fires and searchlights of the rescue operation from the roosevelt island bridge.  i've seen the gaping hole that was left on manhattan island that day.  i had a friend who did recovery and clean up down there, and brought back stories and photos that i just couldn't believe.

now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's get onto that mosque 'at' ground zero.  it's not AT ground zero.  it's like three blocks away.  so that's my first point: it's not AT GROUND ZERO.  it's near it.  and do you know what else is near ground zero?  you may not, and instead of me telling you, let me link you to an article from someone who already did the legwork at gawker: The Hallowed Ground near the 'Ground Zero Mosque'.  check it out.  if you're too lazy to do so, i'll let you in on the secret:  within the same amount of distance from ground zero that the proposed mosque would be built, there is a mcdonalds, a burger king, an off track betting, a bar, a vitamin shoppe, and a gentleman's club. 

so, it's okay to get some supplements, a burger, and a lap dance, but not to worship allah within two or three blocks of ground zero. 


let me let you in on another little secret:  islam is one of the largest and fastest growing religions in the world.  most of you would say christianity is the largest religion - and you'd be right.  about 32% of the world is some form of christian.  but 22% are muslim - and that number is growing.  and jews?  they make up like 1%.  that is not a typo - ONE PERCENT.  i was surprised to learn that, but there you go.  here in the good old US of A, those are the three main religions.  actually, in most of the civilized world, those are still considered the three big ones because they are all monotheistic.  but again - that's another post for another day.  and just so you know, i got this info here: religioustolerance.org  those numbers are the most recent i can find, and are from 2001.

one of the founding principles of this country was religious freedom.  you may remember from history class that originally, we stole this land settled here to escape religious intolerance and persecution over there in england.  and now what are we doing?  we are being religiously intolerant.  it's sad, really.  and maybe it does bother me more because i belong to one of the groups that is still routinely persecuted.  but not all muslims are extremists - and that's who caused 9/11.  a bunch of radical muslim extremists who fucking hate us over here.  they hate us BECAUSE of our freedoms - like our religious freedom.

did you know there are other extremist groups?  like christian extremists?  there are.  the ku klux klan.  the christian identity movements.  the lambs of christ.  i think we're all fairly familiar with what the kkk has done/continues to do in this country with their doctrines of religious intolerance.  but the christian identity movement is basically a bunch of radical white nationalist or white supremacist 'christians' who hate needlessly, and includes the aryan nation group.  they basically believe that armageddon will be a big ass race war.  fun times.  and the lambs of christ are a super-pro-life organization... who have been linked to murder.  the most notable probably being when member james charles kopp killed ob/gyn barnett slepian in his home in buffalo, ny in 1998.  his crime?  what else - performing abortions.

are all christians racist, pro-life-willing-to-kill-ob/gyn fundies?  absolutely not.  should we never build a christian church near a temple or synagogue in case they decide to try and kill jews for being jews?  or not build churches near doctors offices housing ob/gyns?  of course not.  that's fucking ridiculous.  most christians are loving, caring, mostly tolerant, non-murdering citizens.  and guess what?  the same can be said of of muslims:  the vast majority of them are also loving, caring, mostly tolerant, non-murdering citizens.

and about newt gingrich and some other right wingers: this is NOTHING like building a memorial to hitler outside of auschwitz, as so many  have been saying publicly.  hitler was a man who represented a group of people who were hell bent on wiping a group of people off the face of the earth.  would building a memorial to bin laden near ground zero be like that?  yes.  yes it would be.  but they're now comparing muslims to NAZIS?!?!??!??!?! 


are you fucking SERIOUS!?! 

and let's remember that freedom of religion is a fucking constitutionally guaranteed right here in the USA.  and we have separation of church and state - so while it's wonderful that we can all have OPINIONS on this, peter king, gingrich, bloomberg, and patterson should keep their fucking fingers out of this pot and get on with business as usual.  hey, fuckwads, how about listening to anthony weiner and working on that 9/11 first responders compensation act??  instead of worrying about a fucking mosque going up completely legally and shit, why don't you all DO SOMETHING FOR THE MEN AND WOMEN WHO HELPED PUT THE FUCKING CITY BACK TOGETHER?!?!?!?! ASSHATS!!


unlike the president, i can comment on the wisdom of building a mosque that near ground zero.  new yorkers are nothing if not opinionated, and i see many lawsuits in the future, lots of protesting, and possibly spitting on or the throwing of feces on muslims trying to worship at this proposed mosque.  with all this publicity, you can bet that the tourists will get in on the spitting-and-throwing-things too. 

maybe they'll get a lap dance first, like any good 'christian' would.

i say go forth and build your mosque in the general vicinity of ground zero.  and i'd like to think that building a place of worship this close to ground zero is actually an honor to the memory of those we lost that day.  i'd like to think that many of the muslims worshipping there may take some time out to remember the more than 3000 people who died that day, and pray for them and their families.  and maybe pray for the rest of the world to have a little more love and tolerance. 

i know that's something that i pray for on a regular basis.

UPDATE:  while i have not been able to find any documentation of a supposed opening date of 9/11/11, the washington post had a recent article about the center - they have not even picked an architect yet.  i can't imagine something like this being done in a year.

the washington post also states that park51 will 'house meeting rooms, a fitness center, a swimming pool, a basketball court, a restaurant and culinary school, a library, a 500-seat auditorium, a Sept. 11 memorial, a reflection space, and a mosque that could attract as many as 2,000 worshipers'.  full article here: washington post article.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

married.... without children

kids are great. don't get me wrong. i like kids. my friends have this absolutely adorable babeh that i absolutely love visiting with. she's super happy, well behaved, ridiculously cute, and is usually afraid of me for some reason. but she likes awesome husband, even with his terrorist beard.

well, anyway. i like kids. i have twin half sisters that were born when i was 16. my best friend's little brother was born when we were like 14 and i babysat him all. the. time. when i was little i used to help take care of my brother. i'm well versed in changing diapers, burping, dressing, bathing, putting down, playing with, and entertaining small children.

that doesn't mean i want to have any of my own. i have cats. three of them, in fact. and they take up enough of my patience... ergh, time. awesome husband doesn't want any kids. neither of us want to have our own children.

and i cannot tell you how hard it is to get other people to believe that.

it's like the only reason two adults would get married would be to procreate. um, no. there are tax breaks. and also the excuse to have a sweet party AND a vacation. seriously - my wedding day was easily one of the happiest days of my life. i got to share it with all my closest friends and family members, and awesome husband and i were able to publicly proclaim our love for each other and celebrate it with them. i know it's mushy. but it's true - and i would do it again in a heartbeat (if someone else was footing the bill).

and while there are a few reasons we got married, having children was not one. i mean, if we wanted children, there is no reason for us to have gotten married to pop one out. it's not like my uterus was under construction until we signed the marriage certificate. it was working perfectly well for the seven and a half years we dated before we married.

no matter how many times we both say 'we're not having children' to the same family members, they keep asking us about having kids. the day after we announced our engagement, one of his family members asked us when we'd start having kids. we didn't even have a date for the wedding yet! luckily, both my mother and father are fine with the no-kids idea. and i have a pretty small family, and none of them are that interested or involved in my life that they feel the need to constantly ask about my uterus and it's possible future.

but awesome husband comes from a large, over involved, loving italian family. who delight in asking us repeatedly if/when we're having children. they like to tell us about dreams they have where i'm pregnant with twins *shudder* repeatedly. we currently live in florida, and are planning a move back to our home of new york - where all the family still lives. of course, they assumed that we're coming back to new york to procreate.

le sigh.

but you get used to it. you get used to the pointed glances at your stomach during family holiday celebrations, wondering whether you gained a few more pounds or if you might be expecting. you get used to the repeated fights with your husband where you swear the next time someone asks you, you'll run from the room crying and leave him to pick up the pieces (i still have not done this... yet.)

what i can't get used to is how strangers or loose acquaintances feel the urge to not only ask about my child-having plans, but to berate me for them. yes, seriously. i had a devout catholic tell me that awesome husband and i shouldn't have sex since we're not planning on having a child. because sex shouldn't be used for pleasure, or as an act of love, but solely for procreation. so we should only have sex if we are actively trying to get pregnant.


this is one of the main reasons i don't have any friends on facebook that i don't actually know or work with.

i don't feel that there is anything missing from my life because i'm childless. i have a wonderful family, three ridiculous cats, a loving awesome husband, and friends who are dear to me. i see no reason to have to add a child to the mix to be complete. not to mention, i'm batshit crazy and having kids would probably make me even more crazy.

but anyway, not everyone gets married to have kids. and not everyone who has kids gets married. the two are not really dependent on each other. and if you happen to ask a friend or family member about having kids, and they say they're not planning on it, let it go. don't keep asking. don't say 'that's what so and so said, and now they have two kids'. don't wonder aloud who will take care of them when they're older. don't ask about the gaping hole you assume they have in their heart, or why they don't want to have kids, or if there is a problem with their bits and pieces that prohibits them from having kids.

they may be like me, and just not want kids. they may have fertility or other health issues that mean they cannot have kids. either way, you'll just be bringing up ideas or feelings or whatever that they may not want to deal with at that time.

here's an idea: worry about your own testes and ovaries. and leave ours alone. my uterus is perfectly happy, if not a bit irregular, and while it appreciates your concern, it's completely unwarranted.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

save the drama for your.... dad.

i swear, i really wanted to have a funny, witty, blog today. or at least, funnier/wittier than the last few.

but today i had some more side effects from my new meds. i guess, just more jittery and unable to focus. i sat at my sewing table for an hour and forty minutes, staring at five different fabrics and trying to figure out how to use them. then, when i finally gave up and put it all away for the day, i was overcome with sleepiness.

so i spent the rest of the day in bed watching harry potter 5 and 6. then awesome husband made me take a shower, and put stouffer's salisbury steaks in the oven for dinner. well, dinner for him and mom. i had a plate of french fries covered in pepper. yum.

so i ingested delicious french fries, messed around online for a bit, and watched some ghost hunters. i thought about posting a blog about being married without children. you know, something kind of cheeky and hopefully funny.

then i saw a status update from my aunt about my dad almost missing a flight from new york to florida. i live in florida. like two hours away from where he's going. and he *forgot* to mention when he was coming to florida. so even though i'm his first born, his only daughter (well... mostly. but that's another post), and willing to drive down the coast to see him for an afternoon, he neglected to tell me he was coming to florida now and set up a day to meet.

even though i only see him three or four times a year, tops. so i'm kind of bummed out now. i shouldn't be. this is par for the course for my dad. it's also the fourth or fifth time he's done this. he comes to florida once or twice a year to visit a friend about two hours from where i live, and never sets up a date or time to meet up. it kind of makes me feel rejected, even though it should not. my parents split when i was 6, which is twenty four years ago.

twenty. four. years.

so i've had quite some time to get used to my dad's flakiness. he was late to my girl scout moving up ceremony. he was late to my brother's first play. he was late to every play or concert i was involved in. he didn't show up to the art show i was in. he was late to my graduation. he was late to my brother's graduation. he misses planes, or gets there 3 minutes before take off. he is habitually late for reservations - we have a restaurant we frequent in new york where they are shocked if he is less than 30 minutes late. he showed up on time once, and everyone was speechless.

i'm convinced the only reason he wasn't late to my wedding was because we made my mom go with him.

i should be used to it. and i'm thirty - an adult. even if i'm batshit crazy, i'm still a grown up. i'm not a child. but when it comes to our parents, i think we always will be children.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

not a full on blog, but a bit of an update. to make myself feel more important, i'm hoping that my (seven) faithful blog readers have been wondering what happened with my new medication?

well, as you can see, i'm still alive and typing so day one was a success.

i got a bit sleepy during the day, lots of yawning around 3pm (i took the pill at 10am) and i basically felt a bit drunk most of the day. i had a small incident while making dinner (thankfully, awesome husband and mom are indeed awesome. dinner did end up being edible). i was able to sleep through the night... well, that's a lie. the medication did not affect my ability to sleep through the night. taylor was a shouty asshole cat last night and woke me up twice, and mom up twice. he won his bid for freedom at 5am. dick.

the other thing i think i noticed was that i felt like i was kind of ADD, you know - i couldn't focus on any one thing for too long. i also wasn't sure i wanted to eat - i just wasn't as hungry - so maybe i'll be one of the people who lose weight on this drug.

oh, but my pupils are funny. or at least mom thinks they are. she says they are reacting - they shrink when she shines light in my eye, but then they open back up... while the light is still in my eye. which explains the light sensitivity i've been experiencing. and mom really does think my pupils are 'funny' - she was laughing at my pupils until she was crying last night. not sure what to think about that...

it's also awesome husband's birthday today, so i'd like to say 'happy birthday' to him here, even though he never reads my fucking blog because he's an unsupportive dick. just kidding. but he doesn't read it.

he has new tunnels for his ears for his birthday. we both got new jewelry for our numerous body piercings yesterday, thanks to the free bin and clearance section at my fave website.

1/2" silicone eyelets, courtesy of bodyartforms.com

my new jewelry is not nearly as vivid. i mostly was after new balls for my lip piercings. i got new titanium balls in blue and green, and some random acrylic balls that are for tongue rings.... which i don't have. so either i have to get my tongue pierced, or some of my tongue-pierced friends will have new acrylic balls for their jewelry.

i'm thinking we might go out to dinner tonight, to celebrate *again*. awesome husband and i went to the melting pot for the first time on saturday for his birthday, but today's his actual birthday, so we should go out again. you only turn 30 once. unless you're like my ex-step-mother, who has celebrated her 29th birthday like ten times.

Monday, August 9, 2010

the windows are fogged up.

it's raining today. i hear you all crying out 'so what?!?'. it does indeed rain just about every day this time of year here in the FLA. but it's early - we usually get afternoon storms. so this means it will probably rain just about all day. and the windows in the house are all foggy, so i know it's super nasty humid outside.

thankfully, i generally don't go outside (unless i'm going to the mailbox or the pool). but i do feel bad for taylor. he's sitting outside on the table, staring at me - but not yowling - in his stripey fur coat.

fyi, i did just go let him in. he started yowling. dick.

so it's a bit early on a monday for blogging, but i'm terrifically nervous and decided to document my new adventure for posterity (or to help others through a similar situation). you may remember that i went to my new psychiatrist for the first time on friday. firstly, you do not in fact get the crazy person's hour of 50 minutes with a psychiatrist - it's only 15 minutes. huh. all of my antipsychotic medication prior to this time has been prescribed either in the hospital or by my gp when i lived in new york. new psych went through the medical history, asked about meds i'd taken in the past, and has decided to try me on pristiq. he gave me a three week supply, and said 'see you in three weeks'.

well, we were planning on celebrating awesome husband's birthday over the weekend, and alcohol + antipsychotics = ridiculousness, so i decided to wait until today to start the medications. we did have a wonderful birthday weekend, and depending on how i feel, we may go out again tomorrow for his actual birthday.

but the purpose of this post is my new medication. i took my trial packets home on friday and got right online to research pristiq. and then got a bit crazier than usual. i mean, it has all the 'normal' possible side effects as most anti-psychotics: nausea, diarrhea, constipation, a higher risk of suicide attempts, weight gain, weight loss, increased or decreased appetite, sweats, headaches, and others. i know, it's like 'why bother?' but most of us never get all of the side effects - you might get one or two, and they usually go away after a week or 10 days.

some side effects are more serious than others - like swelling and itching, new ticks or twitches, other neurological bits and pieces. those are grounds to call your doctor right away or go to a hospital. they differ for each med, usually, so it's important to know about the 'bad' side effects.

but after reading about pristiq on friday, i'm actually more than a bit scared. people talk about feeling like dying for 2-5 days after starting it - like they literally cannot get out of bed, cannot eat or keep anything down, cannot turn the lights on. some people talk about profuse sweating, horrible headaches and body aches, and rapid weight gain (50+ pounds in 6 months). some say they slept all day after taking it, so must take it at night - and just as many said they couldn't sleep at all, and have to take it first thing in the morning. and then getting off the medication... that's another ridiculous story. people say it's like coming off alcohol or even heroin - you get horrific withdrawal symptoms for up to three weeks after cutting back and stopping. people are being prescribed downers and sleeping pills to deal with the withdrawals from this medication.

so i prepared - just in case. if i gain more than 5 pounds in the first three weeks, i won't take it. i've prepared awesome husband for the possibility that he may be making dinner for a few days. and i keep reminding myself that i almost never have the strange side effects like these - i am ass backwards when it comes to health shit like this.

i was surprised how important it is to take pristiq at the same time every day. like, that's important with birth control pills, and they recommend it for most medications because it's easier to remember to take the pills when you do it the same time every day. but many users talk about how they start experiencing withdrawal symptoms if they're a couple of hours late with their dose! are these people just THINKING that? or is this drug really that addictive? is it going to be like when i was using illicit drugs, wondering when i'm going to get my next hit of pristiq every day? that just doesn't seem appropriate.

but then, there are the other people who reviewed the drug online and say it was basically a miracle. their friends and family remark on how present and alive they seem. they are able to get out of bed and go to work, take care of themselves and their families. they aren't experiencing those obsessive thoughts, or bouts of rage, or highs and lows.

so here's to hoping.

i hope you'll all come with me on this new adventure, and forgive me the 'serious' blogs because i promise you'll still get 'fun' blogs. i mean, just because i'm batshit crazy, doesn't mean that fun things don't happen. like just saturday, we had a ridiculous time at the melting pot for awesome husband's birthday. i'm really hoping i feel 100% tomorrow for his actual day of birth, so we can go do something else awesome, befitting the birthday of an awesome husband :D

Friday, August 6, 2010

i love you, BUT...

i love my cats. they're all so different and special and wonderful. MOST OF THE TIME. piglet is just weird, with her aversions to food and cuddling. and samantha... well, we didn't call her 'little baby retard' for nothing. the whole not-being-able-to-smell thing makes life interesting. and taylor is basically my fur brother. he's been around for half of my life, and i love him to bits.


now that he's older, mostly deaf, and in kidney failure, he seems to have developed some old man habits. like the yowling. i feel like i've written this blog already.

oh wait - i have. he does this almost every. fucking. night.

let's go through taylor's day.

6am ish: the sun is just barely starting to lighten the sky. mom troops out of her bedroom to shove taylor outside. he stalks around the perimeter of the patio, surveying the landscape, and shouts a bit at the cats across they way if they are out. by the time i wake up and open the blinds around 8ish, he's curled up on one of 'his' chairs, soaking up the sun (in the 83 degree heat. i don't know how he does it).

9am: the other cats may want to go out. usually samantha. if taylor is over by the table, she'll stop to say hi. they may swat at each other a couple of times, then go to sleep. taylor may or may not have moved over to lie on top of our patio table. it has a glass top and appears to be cooler. *shrug* or something. he may clean at this time.

10:15am: taylor wants a snack. he does cat stretching and then sits on the very edge of the table, and peers through the patio door waiting for someone to look at him. the second you do, he meows with his rumbly, purry meow. and does it over and over again until you get him.

NOT until you open the door. but until you actually go outside and CARRY him into the house. i'm not fucking kidding. then you have to walk WITH him down the hallway to the kitchen, where his food dish is. he may at this time go to the litter box like a good boy. then he wants to go back out.

he'll either lie on the ceramic tiles or on the fucking table until 4pm ish. he may require another trip to the litter box around 3pm, but this is not a normal occurrence. but 4pm ish is when all three cats decide it's close enough to dinner time to start making a nuisance of themselves. they yowl, they fight, they pick at the upholstery. samantha will sit in front of mom's bedroom door while mom's working and give these pitiful, LOUD yowly cries. nice.

5pm ish: this is generally when they eat. if you feed taylor inside, he will immediately vomit his dinner up. so we feed him outside, where for some reason, he only vomits up his dinner about 15% of the time. then he goes back to his cycle of cleaning and sleeping.

6pm-8:30pm: he does sleep most of this time. but he will also go back to sitting on the edge of the table, peering in at us. he can see the couch, and that's where awesome husband and i sit most of the night. the second we make eye contact, he starts shouting at us. if you open the door, he looks at you like you have six heads. very rarely, he will jump down to meet you, and either will just say hi and rub on you, or come in for another snack or surprise trip to the litter box.

10:45pm ish: we bring taylor in. he has a snack. he sits on a bed for like four minutes, and then goes and yowls by the door to be let back out. we bring him back to bed. you must lie down with him until his ass hits the bed and he starts cleaning before you can trust him to stay there.

11:50pm-12:15am: this is when he will make his first nightly bid for freedom. taylor will go push his head through the closed vertical blinds, shouting and yelling to go out. i usually grab him and either shove him in mom's room, or bring him to our bed.

2am ish: escape attempt two. this lasts much longer, since we're all usually deeply asleep by now. either myself or mom will be slowly roused from sleep by the incessant, throaty, loud, annoying yowl of taylor as he shuffles the vertical blinds around. whoever gets up first will bring him to bed.

3:15am ish: attempt three. i usually get up for this one. i bring him to bed with me, where he will not settle down but runs off to the patio doors again, yowling. so i grab him, snuggle him up next to awesome husband, and awesome husband will initiate cuddling with taylor *without waking up*. i go back to sleep.

4am: attempt four. mom or awesome husband usually gets this one. whoever gets him brings him back to bed.

5-5:30 am: attempt five. taylor will yowl especially loud at this time, perhaps because he realizes it is close to the time when mom will lose her fucking rag and finally shove him outside. i generally take this one, and force-cuddle him while watching home movies on adult swim.

6am ish: taylor runs off for the sixth and final attempt, which is not so much an 'attempt' as it is 'annoy the living fuck out of mom so she stumbles out of bed in her nighty and opens the patio door, cursing quietly the entire way'. this escape has been known to rouse awesome husband, which pisses him off since he usually wakes up around 7am, and you know how hard it is to get back to sleep during that last hour of sleepytime.

taylor was at it all. night. long last night. i must have gotten up five times to drag him back to bed and try to settle him off to boboland. i cursed him all night long, every time i woke up and grabbed him. i kept explaining to him that you can't go outside in the middle of the fucking night, because people might try to steal him (i know, i know. i live in perpetual fear of someone catnapping my kittehs). or because we can't let him in and out to use the box.

taylor just doesn't listen. i wonder if there are sleeping pills for cats? or if we keep waking him up all day long, if he'll sleep more through the night?

this is why i don't have kids: i have kittehs.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

why so serious?

i really do hate to be a debbie downer. seriously. but often, i don't have a choice. 12-steppers talk about 'acting as if'. meaning act as if you are okay - and you will be.

i have spent over 18 years doing that. well over half of my life. i spend a majority of the time that i'm with other people pretending everything is fine. pretending that i am a productive member of society. pretending that cooking dinner isn't a big deal. pretending that i am not agonizing over every single thing that i say, or think, or do, and how other people may interpret it.

people who are really sick - like super depressed, bipolar, etc - talk about how it's a chore to get out of bed and shower, eat, or get dressed. and i think many 'normal' people think we're exaggerating. we are not. and even if you do get out of bed to eat, bathe, or dress, you then have to CHOOSE what to eat, whether or not to shave your legs, what shirt to put on. and these simple choices are so overwhelming that you may just say fuck it all and go back to bed.

some of us have support systems that will not allow us to act like this. and it's good. if awesome husband has to basically force me to shower, he will. if he literally has to choose a tee shirt for me to put on, he does. and if i simply cannot decide what to eat or cook for dinner, he finds something to make - and then makes it.

i have an appointment with a psychiatrist (finally) tomorrow morning. so i get to spend the crazy person's hour (50 minutes long) trying to explain about what may or may not be obsessive thoughts, suicidal tendencies, a history of drug use and abuse, and run down the list of medications that i've already tried that did not agree with me. and then i'll walk out of that office with a prescription for something that will hopefully help straighten my head out.

i wonder if a therapist and psychiatrist would fight if they met in a dark alleyway. therapists are always telling you that you need to learn how to react to things, how to cope, etc. like it's all my choice about whether or not i'm depressed! but psychs give you medication to treat the chemical imbalance that causes the depression. who's right? am i inherently fucked up - chemically - or am i choosing my depression?

or is it some kind of ridiculous combination of the two? do the meds straighten your head out just enough for you to be able to learn how to cope? i guess we'll find out soon enough - since i decided that i will not be continuing therapy at this point due to financial constraints. so it will just be meds over here - i'll have to try to relearn my healthy coping mechanisms on my own.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

down with pants!

okay, so i was catching up on my blog list today, and thanks to annah over at red means go (http://www.whenredmeansgo.com/) who posted some pantless photos today...

go ahead. i'll wait while you check them out. and follow her, to help her get famosity, or she will eat kittens.

now that i have regained your attention, her blog about being pantless in your own house (which, correct me if i'm wrong, should be a god/s given inalienable right) reminded me about the trying issue of claustrophobic thighs.

this is when you have your pants on, like at work or when you're shopping, or maybe just hanging around the house. and you realize that your thighs are claustrophobic - your pants are all tight and pants-y around your thighs. and your thighs are all agitated and irritated and angry.

like when you are stuck in line behind someone at the grocery store, in the 10 items or less line. and they have like 14 or 15 items. i mean, you can forgive 11 or 12, but they're pushing it. and not only are the in the express line with too many items, but the get all impatient and do that sighing thing that some of us do to let you know we're annoyed with someone. and then they start making comments about how the cashier is slow, or the person paying with a credit card who takes four extra seconds to sign their slip, or gets all huffy when the front end manager comes over with singles for the cashier.

and you get that feeling. it's kind of tingly and tight. like you're a spring that's being more tightly coiled. maybe it's the feeling of having your braces tightened. or really bad gas. i'm not sure. it's an agitated, anxious, angry, abomination of a feeling.

you get through it, and you go home with your less-than-10-items (i know you weren't in that lane against the unspoken rules of the supermarket). you put the groceries away, maybe feed the cat or pour a cup of soda or glass of wine. and you go to sit on the couch, and turn on the game.

and then. your thighs. if you're wearing any pants that are not really comfy and super stretchy, you notice that your jeans or trousers or whatever feel a bit.... snug across the top of your mid-thigh. strange. but then you realize that it's not just the top of your thigh - it's all the way around, like there's an invisible ace bandage being wrapped around it. so you stand up and adjust your pants, like pulling the legs up a bit to give your crotch and thighs more wiggle room. or you adjust your trouser snake addendums if you have them. or you pick the nonexistent wedgie that you think is causing the problem.

and you sit back down. and it's even worse. like if you could scratch the fabric off your thighs, you would, and you might take off a layer of skin or ten while you're at it.

this is claustrophobic thighs: when you feel like you may have to fuck something up if you can't take your pants off. so you have to take your pants off. depending on the level of claustrophobia, you may not be able to put any other pants on in lieu of the jeans or trousers you're already wearing - super stretchy may not cut it. you may need to walk around in your tee shirt and panties for the rest of the night.

and so what if the windows are open and the neighbors can see? who the fuck are they looking in your windows?!? i walk around in my underwear more than i care to admit, due mainly to thigh claustrophobia. awesome husband gives me a strange look sometimes, since the windows and patio doors are open, but i figure that my panties and a tee shirt covers more than my bathing suit does, and i wander around outside drunk in my bathing suit... so fuck that. my thighs are more important.

i just hope the claustrophobia doesn't spread further. it's bad enough i get nervous in elevators and tunnels, especially the last tunnel in the rock 'n roller coaster at disney hollywood studios (i live in almost perpetual fear of being stranded in that tunnel again. our coaster train stopped there once for like two minutes once, and i nearly lost it).

i can't imagine what i would do if i ended up with boob claustrophobia. my mom would never come out of her room again.

Monday, August 2, 2010

smart move or stupid mistake?

hindsight is twenty twenty. i've said it millions of times. i'm not the only one who thinks it, either. it's a very common phrase. and of course, it means when you look back at a situation, you can see it clearly - you can see all facets of it. so you can look back and see every stupid fucking misstep you took, every mistake you made.

if you've been reading my blog, you may remember last week when i came clean about my little nervy b. while my job did not cause my craziness (i may have mentioned that i'm batshit crazy, and have been for some years now) it definitely contributed to my most recent fall from sanity. i can't explain how or why i am crazy, but i am. and i felt like my job was creating just that much more stress in my life.

so i spent three days calling psychiatrist #1. i refused to call any others on the list the therapist gave me. this psych is literally down the road - maybe an 8 or 9 minute drive. i left two messages and just kept calling until i got through on friday morning. the earliest appointment they had was this friday morning. fine - at least i know someone will hand me a fucking prescription within a few days.

so awesome husband had to work on saturday. and somehow my ovaries decided to make me go into full on nesting mode. i caulked a bit. that was fun. and then i figured 'well, the bathroom needs cleaning. i'll do all but the floor, and cut awesome husband's hair when he gets home from work and make him vacuum it'. so i did.

but then. i was in the kitchen and i opened the freezer. it was a bit of a disorganized mess. so i took everything out and reorganized it. and then. i turned around and saw the top of the stove was a bit of a mess - it's a glass top, and it was a bit marked up. hmph. and then. i looked at the microwave, and realized i've seen it cleaner.

about eight hours later, awesome husband came home while i was just finishing up cleaning the bar (no, not that kind of bar - like the 'bar' part of my counter where some people would eat, and we store shit in piles).

well. i tried running the self clean thingy on the oven, and it got a bit smoky in the house - so i shut it off. but i still scrubbed the hell out of the oven racks with brillo. and i cleaned the microwave - even took out those creepy metal filters on the bottom, and tried to take out the charcoal one (but broke a tab... oops). and i scrubbed the sink and the dish drain and took apart the faucet and cleaned that. and i scrubbed the counters and the top of the fridge and the stovetop. and i swept. not just the kitchen, but the living room. this is a big deal because i do not do floors or windows. and then i cut awesome husband's hair and made him vacuum the bathroom.

but i ruined my manicure. on the bright side, i got stuff done and kept myself occupied....

...and didn't think about quitting my job. so when yesterday afternoon rolled around (after making my first quiche, which was delectable), i was looking at either quitting or going back to work today.

i think it's obvious i don't WANT to work. who does, really? you want the paycheck, and if you're lucky you like or enjoy your job. but i felt like i could no longer emotionally commit to something like that, especially something that i was starting to not enjoy bordering on hate. but i'm 30 years old. i'm a wife and cat-mom. i have a family to take care of (albeit a strange family of myself, awesome husband, mom, and three cats). and i cannot provide or contribute financially at all. and that hurts. it really does. i'm happy to clean (well... not happy, as such. but i'll do it eventually) and do the food shopping, and prepare all the food, and i guess i could even start doing the dishes ALL the time if i wanted to (but mom usually beats me to it anyway). so i may RUN the household, but does that count as contributing?

i asked awesome husband what he thought i should do. ever supportive, he says he'd support whatever decision i made. and i was like, yah, you will, but WHAT SHOULD I DO?!?

he looked at me and said, 'do you know, this week that you've not worked, you haven't texted me once begging me to come home early?' i would always ask him to come home if i was having a really rough time. i'd been asking him to come home early 4 out of every 5 days.

and last week, with my sewing and some reading, a bit of cleaning, swimming, and napping with the cats, i didn't feel like i needed him to save my from myself every day.

so there was my answer. i wrote an email to my mentor or direct superior, i suppose you'd say. then i went and terminated my contract. and i felt a bit more free, a bit less trapped.

i woke up this morning the same time awesome husband left for work. i got up, reheated some quiche, and got to work on a new design. i spent all day on it, until about 5:30, and then awesome husband came home. we took showers, i made dinner, and we watched the mets game. and now, here i am, in bed, awesome husband snoring beside me and another day of working for myself ahead of me.

hindsight is twenty twenty. as freeing as it was, my first thought was that quitting my job was a stupid mistake. but now, i may be reconsidering that idea.