Absolutely stunning - Peacock Masquerade

Adore this chick and all of her make-up tutorials, from the everyday to special looks.  Here's a jump start on one for Halloween. 

At 4:22am, what are you normally doing?

Because apparently, my new answer is "anything but sleeping".  I wouldn't say I'm wide awake, but I'm far closer to wide awake than sleepy.  I'm tempted to just stay awake but I know that will trigger all the cardiac crap and I'm really not up for that.  Guess it's time to knock back a few downers and try to sleep.  I can sleep alright once I get there, sort of, but I think it's my thoughts I don't want to be alone with between the time I get in bed and the time I actually fall asleep.

I've really only been up about 20 hours, but a rough 20 at that.  When I have to go back to work next week it's going to suck.  I'm normally getting up around 6:30am, so, yeah, I've kind of got this all fucked up.  

The day the earth stood still.

When you hear that phrase, you think of things just stopping.  But they don't just stop immediately.  One minute they aren't just moving about and then they come full halt in the next second.  And even if they appear to, there is still movement measured in milliseconds between those two stages.  Perhaps even nanoseconds.

On June 29th, my world stood still, but not before slowing at an increasingly dizzying speed.  I held my grandmother as she died.  How something can happen so quickly yet so slowly at the same time is beyond me.

Adrift.  

A painful truth.

There are times in your life when you curse the things you don't understand, that frustrate you or feel like obstacles. You need to feel what you need to feel, no one can or should tell you otherwise. But keep in mind, life changes without flourish, announcement and certainly it doesn't wait for permission, and most often, there's not a damned thing you can do about it. So carry on and live your life but don't forget that what you are doing right now, this very moment, is not guaranteed to carry on as such in the next. Live your ups. Live your downs. Take them for what they're worth and do your best. Even when your best isn't ever, EVER going to be good enough. Some things you face will be effortlessly shining examples of all that is right in the world while other things are so broken there exists no means by which to fix them. Live your life being prepared for both. Maintain balance and perspective because it can all change in the blink of an eye.

Surreality, coming to a bookseller near you.

So I started following this generically named page on a social media site and in the end (and by end, I mean after about a week or so of following them) the person(s) started to respond to my comments.  Kind of like in blog land, to be expected and nothing weird about it.  The weird part is that this culminated in a one hour conversation yesterday.  Now, here's the really weird part...

The person running this low key page happens to be a well known published author of approximately 10 books.  No shit.  When I went back into the photos, I could see that it was him, but me being suspicious, figured it was someone pretending to be him.  Let's just say I got proof.  So there I sat, talking to this half crazed author.  What.  A.  Trip. I had no idea that the person running the page was anyone in particular, it just fell together strangely.  

An interesting moment in life to be sure.

'Me + D + G = WTF' or 'How I did not become Morgan le Fay'

I don't really care what I say here anymore, mainly because, well, that doesn't matter either.  None of it seems to matter.  These are the ramblings of a very tired, confused person - no one is to take any part too seriously.  You'll know what I mean if you read it.

Spur of the moment invite yesterday to stop over at an old friends house (G) that I went to high school with (we occasionally chat on facebook) and I think he thinks it's more than it is.  He was nothing but pleasant and polite and gave a quick hug on the way out, nothing menacing.  But he mentioned plans for 'us' several times, then invited me to dinner tonight, just a cookout - but with his son and his GF.  Weird.  It's just a 'no'.  I'm sorry his ex was a bitch and took off (with most of his money) but I can't be what he wants me to be.  I can see it in his eyes.  No wait, that's a lie.  I could hear the expectation in his voice.  Which was actually far worse.  Not saying he has specific intentions, but he wants and needs that support and I've got too much fear in me to trust that he would just leave it at casual friends.  My gawd I sound like such a bitch.  All about helping people and trying to be supportive, but you know, I pretty much have nothing left to give.  (this comes full circle in the end)  

So, D and I went out I think two more times.  Once dinner (early night - had to be home to watch NHL playoffs...), then dinner and a movie.  Which really made me wonder if it was wrong to go to G's house just to sit and talk and watch a movie.  I thought 'no' b/c I clearly have no intention of him being more than a casual friend.  Besides, D and I aren't anything official, so there's that, too.  Anyway.  After one of those nights, I had a very hard time getting home.  A crushing realization came to mind.  Although it's been said, I'm going to say it again.  And probably a hundred more times until I can actually come to terms with the implications.  All switches are off.  I can't feel anything, and I think it's because I won't allow it.

Ok, this is where shit gets weird and all bouncy.  And honest.  D and I haven't had sex.  I want to, but I don't.  Not with him.  Probably not with anyone given the opportunity.  I just feel nothing.  I mean, that's a lie - I do physically.  All responses proper and functioning, but my brain puts the brakes on.  This isn't from a couple of bad relationships, even though a few were really screwy either in the end or in their entirety, but it's from a lifetime.  My lifetime.  I'm learning this through working with a natural healer.  She's gotten more out of me based on her questions, my verbal responses and my physical responses in about 5 hours than years of therapists have.  What it's boiling down to now is that, well, you know all that 'inner child' stuff?  Well, mine's not very trusting.  Mine doesn't even trust me.  Apparently she trusts no adult.  And when faced with being in a position to trust, the bratty kid turns into a hostile adult.  Seriously.  I really am my own worst enemy now.  

So, keeping this in mind, I see how there's this huge roadblock in front of me.  I do not even trust myself.  Do you hear what I'm saying?  Everyone thinks they, at some point, are alone in this world, but I've realized I don't even have myself.  I have a terrified, half-wild, panicked child inside that eyes you suspiciously from a distance and would rather gnaw off her own arm than take anyone's hand.  My outer shell, the adult, is quirky, fun, creative, intelligent, competent yet is sad, confused and hateful, completely filled with rage that also keeps a certain distance.  That child lives inside that layer of sadness, confusion and rage.  No wonder my inner child doesn't trust me.  

I understand it's more a representation of the mind vs heart.  Thinking, logic vs love, feeling.  My will took over so long ago, but even then it wasn't able to help my mind process what it saw.  You know who I kind of feel like?  Don't laugh - Edward Scissorhands.  He never understood why he wasn't complete, and he was so different in one way, but that one way made all the difference.  In the end, he ended up back in the mansion, away from everyone.  (That whole ES thing just occurred to me.)  So now that willfullness has kind of taken on a life of its own and is partially preventing the two parts from peacefully coexisting.

But the other day, or it may have been night, I really don't remember, a flood of thoughts came back to me.  Thoughts of when I was at a very dark place and thought about how I could kill myself to make it say something, yet nothing.  At the time, my plan was to sit at the lake lined up with the boat dock.  I would have a certain CD playing with all but one song scratched, so if anyone really wanted to know what I chose as my exit music, they would learn an awful lot.  The car doors would be locked, symbolizing my attempts to lock out the hurtful things, interior door handles broken off to show the desperation with which I tried to climb out of that place yet failed.  My seatbelt would be buckled as would all the others in the car.  Something has to convey all the parts of me I tried and failed to secure.  My lights would stay on to show how hard I tried to see through the darkness.  A few personal items would be there with me, but nothing too blatantly obvious.   Then I would superglue my eyes closed, against all I'd seen, my ears, for all I've heard, my mouth, for all the times I wasn't permitted to talk about anything, talk about my own life and the innate wrongness of it.  And then I'd just drive into the lake.  The last part is significant because for as much as I love water, I'm also terrified of it.  What better way to go out than being surrounded by the thing you love the most but punishing yourself with that last bit of controlled terror.

It all came back.  It all seemed right except now I thought it would be more appropriate to use something to actually prop my mouth open signifying all the times throughout my life that I did, in fact, ask for help.  But the wrong people were listening, if at all.  And so it would just be a silent scream that no one heard, but for once, no one would stop me.  Not even me.  I felt that would have been much better.  

Not that I'm going to do it - I'm talking about years ago when that came to me.  Just the other day, though, it flooded back with that one modification.  For a moment, I felt a profound sadness when I realized that I've separated myself so wholly.  I'm not sure there will ever be a way to get back what is gone or to fix the wrongness of a lifetime.  To realize that no matter what I create or how competent I am or how silly I can be in a particular moment, just under the surface is a child that is being held prisoner.  Because that's what I was taught, back when I was that child.  Now, I don't trust myself enough to extend a hand, or take it for that matter.  In that moment, I realized that it's going to be one lonely existence.  In a way, it only seems right to live as long as possible to punish myself for not being strong enough to help that child.  Even after all this time.  I never really even recognized her because I was never permitted, and then I just took over, becoming that enemy that I wanted to avoid.

Part of this is surfacing because I've been going out with D and I'm not comfortable with it.  I don't know how to 'accept' things, like dinner, a movie, etc. so I either do it with absolutely no grace and it seems forced, or I just clam up and don't say anything.  Add to this that my mother knows I've gone out with him and says things like 'I'm sure you'll tell me about him when you're ready, but I AM curious.'  Fuck NO I'm not telling you shit!  As much as I love my mother, and the gods know I do, she laid this groundwork.  When she makes comments like that, I seriously want to punch her in the face.  Why the fuck would she think I would tell her ANYTHING when I can't get any info out of her about my OWN childhood, which I might remind you was quite a long time ago.  SHE is one of two people in my immediate family that would never let certain things be spoken of.  I had no way to talk about relationships and proper interaction much less identify it... and now you want me to just open up and tell you?!  Fuck.  That.  I can't even tell her my half sister is missing because we shared the same father.  So I carry this shit on my own.  And here.  That's all.  I've been forgiving and understanding toward her and what she went through but she forgets I went through it, too.  At least she has memories before my father - 20 years or so of a life that wasn't fucked up and wrong in every way.  I don't really have that.   And I'm not sure how much progress I can make.  I want to, but the road ahead seems to go on for miles and I don't know if I have the strength.  I keep banking on stubbornness to get me through, because I don't like where I am and I'm the only one that can change it.  Working on it ~ just identifying some of this leaves me exhausted.  Guess that happens after hiding things from yourself your whole life.

So yeah.  There's that.

Do you ever get the feeling you'd have better luck trying to communicate with an Irish Setter?

So.  This 'D' guy I mentioned.  I had to have the talk with him.  It's a bit of a watered down version, but he had to know things up front.  Points for him:  he didn't run screaming.  (That's where the post title comes in, though.)  I'm not sure he really listened.  I gave him a fairly brief synopsis of my history which is the basis of why I don't respond to things like most people do.  He had to know, in fairness.  

When all was said and done, he asked me if it was fair to say we were in 'a relationship'.  o_O  He said that usually after people go out five times, it's kind of a given that they are in a relationship.  Um.  No.  And I told him so.  I said I was fine not classifying it and taking it as it comes.  He was ok with that and not offended, so I'm glad.  Of course then he said his mom wants to meet me.  Ugh.

The other night he made two references that threw me for a loop, though.  He referred to 'if we'd move in together' and later, he glibly worked in a comment about being married.  Um.  I'm going to have to ask you to cool your jets.  Plain and simple.

Something I'm learning:  I'm not sure I like him.  He's ok, but that's about it.  Cool to hang with but I feel like I have to watch everything I say/do as he reads FAR more into it than there is.  Also, I'm not really sure I even have the ability to feel anything anymore.  Seriously.  I think I've put up too many walls along the way and I might have to face the fact that I've done such an amazing job that no one is going to get through.  And it's not just that he's not 'the right guy'.  It's that I literally have zero interest.  Not that I'm rusty, but that I lack that integral part that guides you.  Apathy may have finally won.

There's a song that starts off, 'Wake up, medicate again...'

For real.  Happens to be a band I just saw a couple of weeks ago.  Phenomenal.  Anyway, the point is that it's becoming the temporary anthem for my life.

Now, you may think this is a bad thing.  I may think this is a bad thing, but I'm really not ready to jump to that conclusion here just yet.  

For various reasons I have a lovely vintage of my benzodiazepine of choice (yes, properly prescribed and taken thusly).  Lately, I've been sure to take a fraction of my usual dose throughout the day (as opposed to having one or two whole doses) when I know I'm heading into some major bullshit.  Which, it's been a 'major bullshit' kind of few weeks.   It's such a small dose I can't even feel it, so that's why I'm good with it.  It just makes me care far less that things are utterly fuckariffic.

If not for these little lovelies, I'd not be making it through without jail time for assault or destruction of property or some shit like that.  Or both.  At least.  Restraining orders would fly and in truth, it might be a grand old time, but not one I'm up for.  So for now, I will keep waking up and medicating.

Not a bad way to go.  Now I see why they wrote a song about it.

The Trews - The Power Of Positive Drinking

This one... just because I think I'm going to have to start drinking heavily to deal with my life.  Right now, for me, 'heavily' isn't heavy at all.  But damn it, I'm willing to work on it...

The Trews ~ Dreaming Man (Acoustic)

Simply because this is one of the most beautiful renditions of this song that I could ever imagine.  Oddly calming.

I truly suck as a human being. And knowing me, I've used this as a post title before.

So this guy, D, that I've gone out with a few times (third time was tonight, actually.)  Tonight he tells me he's starting to have feelings for me.  *sigh* 

And that's not a good *sigh*.

I mean, I'm glad he actually verbalized it, but now I have to have the 'here's the deal, dude, I'm like, 12 kinds of crazy that no one can unravel' talk.  I'm so broken that half the time I can't discern my own truth from lies because I have learned to convince myself of what I've needed to.  How can anyone want that in their life?  To never know where they stand?  If I'm being truthful or just answering how I think they want me to answer b/c that's what I was taught to do?  

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Never should have agreed to go out with him.  Being alone has it's good points.

WTF happened to BlogLand and where are my fellow crazies?

I know there aren't many people out and about here on Blogger anymore, but I'm wondering if they switched to Wordpress or are sticking with things like Facebook and Twitter?

Personally, I can't SAY shit like I do here on Facebook, which is why I'm still here.  I've been using the 'next blog' tab and all I'm getting is two year old blogs about Jesus, how people's kids have learned to use the potty, political crap, more about kids and family, a few photo journals, and some 'look, I made my own mac and cheese from a box' type blogs.  

Really - what happened to all the people that were just as nuts as me?  That questioned?  That wrote?  That interacted?  That were not afraid to use this as a sounding board?  It's like a fucking ghost town.  Literally tumbleweeds going by.

Still going to look but if no one is on here anymore, I'm just going to shut off comments.  I mean, I can't even find any new blogs save one or two, and with those, I don't really care that little LuLuBelle went pee for the first time in the big potty or that you love Jesus.  I really don't.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...

It's been a really crazy 36 hours or so.  And that is by MY warped standards of 'crazy'.  I'm just going to throw some shit out there then go change my picture.  And maybe my email address.  Sometimes things are just 12 ways to fucked all around you and there's really nothing you can do but say, 'uh, yep.' and move the fuck on.  

Ok, I've been sick (URI) but went to the hockey game with D last night anyway.  We met at a neutral place, I drove (gotta have some kind of control), enjoyed seeing my team get a win and spent some time with his arm around me.  I really didn't care one way or the other but it was ok. I mean, it didn't freak me out.  In truth, I think I knew that was because I was sick and he already was joking that he wasn't about to kiss me.  Perfectly fine, dude.  Really.  Again, it's me, not him.  But without feeling any pressure, it was much easier to spend time with him.  Moral of the story:  I like you much more if you basically leave me the fuck alone.

Moving right along.  Now, this is where things begin to unravel.  Two family members went out of state to visit my uncle who just had surgery.  I didn't go because the LAST thing I needed to do was get him sick.  As it turns out, he had a partial amputation and for two days, I believe, he was on nothing stronger than Tylenol and totally wracked with pain to the point of being non-communicative and immobile.  WTF.  Here, let me cut off part of your fucking body, bone, muscle, tendon, and give you some fucking Tylenol.  With luck they threw in a bandaid for free.  My family questioned but when they got home and told me, I called and crawled up a few asses, dropping some magic words like 'ombudsman' and 'HCAHPS' and several other gems.  I WORK in medical and pharmacy; I KNOW what I am doing.  By the time all was said and done they put him on a much more appropriate med and he seems to be somewhat better today.  

Backing up to last night, his daughter called me.  Now, I haven't talked to her in a couple of years maybe, but it's because of some crazy family shit that is going on between that immediate part of the family.  She talked, I listened, something wasn't right.  This was a close knit family and it just all started unraveling.  And then it was like a snowball rolling downhill.  

Fast forward to today, my mom and I started comparing what we'd heard (from the family members we spoke with) and it's nuts.  Full on nuts.  Brother stealing from another brother, goes after the one who stole (to shoot him) and his wife takes the bullet.  Inappropriate behavior toward young women (nieces), trying to hook up with other women, including an in-law, spousal abuse, other abuse... oh, it just kept going.  This doesn't even include the death threats and 'chasing with a rifle' scene between father and son because the son is gay.  Or the fact that one child and their spouse have had paperwork drawn up and served to three other siblings to keep them off their father's property.  The father has no idea this is going on and think his kids have abandoned him.  All the while, they can't get to him.  He's homebound as he's suffered a couple of strokes and is left to his own devices other than for a brief daily visit or two from the ones that drew up the papers.

Look, I don't care what kind of shit happened 5 or 10 or even 30 years ago.  That's some shady goings on but if it happened, it happened.  What I see is a family that tried to pretend it didn't and now they are falling apart and turning on one another.  It's like the Brady Bunch just became the Manson Family.  It's ugly.  I'm not sure how I'm supposed to look at these people and see them the same way.  I suppose I won't.  But it really doesn't matter what I think, does it?

Where do you draw the line and say 'that was then, this is now'.  Not that I think that time heals everything because I'm living proof that it sure as fuck doesn't, but if no one ever addressed these issues and they are just now coming back to haunt everyone, isn't everyone there the victim of their own lack of involvement in acknowledging all these things that happened along the way?  Now they all hate each other because it's easier to do that than to call a spade a spade and say they turned a blind eye all their lives.  To blame one another, in some way, keeps the focus on someone else's role, not on your own.  In the end, everyone is suffering though.  Humans are most certainly flawed, are we not?

To add to it all, today is my half-sister's birthday and I sent her a message as well as a text, no answer to either.  Last I knew she was off her meds for bipolar, lost her job, was living in someone's garage and back on street drugs.  Great.   On the bright side, I didn't see her name in the obits.

I just don't think I can do it.

I've been thinking.  Then I stopped.  Sometimes I just think too much.  Back and forth and back and forth.  We're still going to the game Saturday, but I don't think it's going to go anywhere beyond that.  Unless it's one more game.  I really don't mind sharing my tickets but that's really all I'm interested in sharing.

Suppose it all comes down to the fact that I'm ok with living in this bubble I've created.  Not that I exactly like it, but I am more ok with that than compromising everything.  Seriously, we're just too different.  I don't think he knows just how different.  Most likely because I haven't said too much, just observed.  

Plus, there's this other thing.  I've never been interested in anyone that has shown interest in me first.  Ever.  Like, never ever.  I must be interested in them first.  Perhaps I feel I have to win them over or maybe I'm suspicious of why someone would like me and it's all a big trick... I really don't know.  Never cared enough to think of it that deeply, but it's a pattern I've noticed.

At this rate I'm going to have to start taking 'How to be a Crazy Cat Lady in 4 easy steps' classes.  And get more cats.  One part time cat doesn't quite qualify me for the program.

I have to joke about it somewhere because it really isn't funny.  I've made myself unavailable, even to knowing myself.  That's pretty fucked up.

Meh.  Good thing I like cats.

I'm pretty sure that if I lived another 50 years and had therapy weekly, it still wouldn't be enough to right the wrongs. Oh, lawdy.

Ok.  I've said in the past that I'm pretty fucked up.  Years ago I've said why I feel that way and some of the things that contributed to it but I've never told the full story.  Today will be no different.

However.  Tonight I realized just how utterly fucked up I am.  When I talk about having a 'fatal flaw' or some inherent 'wrongness', it is there.  It is not imagined.  In truth, I believe it comes from what I went through as a child.  Logically I understand that I lack certain coping skills and mechanisms of proper interaction because of it, but as an adult, no therapist I've worked with has ever been able to help me with it.  Probably because I've skirted the issue or just outright given them the answers I knew they wanted to hear.  Of course, in the end, they carry on, it's me that has a horrible time in my own head.  Guess I showed them.  Ahem.  But really, WHO wants to admit that there is something really wrong with them?  And fuck them for not realizing the front I put up!

About a week ago I was tagged on Facebook in a photo from high school along with several others.  One guy really liked me and even at that time, I didn't know what to do with that.  Of course, being 17 and focusing on college didn't help.  Well, that and the off-kilter brain patterns.  Anyway.  So we start chatting on the dreaded Facebook once we were both tagged in this photo and we really hadn't talked since 1988 - that's a lot of years!  But he was still determined to go out with me.  I agreed.

Long story short, we went out to dinner tonight.  He is totally opposite of me.  Like, in every way.  Republican vs Democrat, Conservative vs Liberal, Country music vs Hell no, Gun toting vs Please don't ask my history revolving around guns, Ford vs import, allergic to cats vs cat-owner, Church-goer vs heathen, Hiker/Camper vs OMG a spider!... oh, the list just goes on.  But it's just dinner and he's always been a nice guy.  I figure if Mary Matalin and James Carville can be married, then I can at least have DINNER with the guy!  (Look it up.)

He's four months younger than me, has a steady, secure job, is kind and considerate, and really, it was great spending time with him.  I'm sure if you've ever read anything I've ever written, you know this is where things bunch up like underwear in your asscrack.

So after dinner at my car (we met at the restaurant - being the control freak that I am, I didn't want him knowing where I live as he offered to pick me up) I figured he was going to try for a kiss.  No big deal.  Except it was.  We spent quite a while outside together by my car.  Leaning in on one another, kissing, talking, kissing, laughing, kissing... you see how it played out.  Now, I'll tell you right here and now that I'm a really fucking rotten person.  Why?  Because I didn't feel a thing.  Nothing.  Not one bit.  As I was kissing him, I kept thinking about when he'd leave, that my beer was good, should I open the wine when I got home, why was I still standing here, that I had to buy stockings for an upcoming event, what I could check out on Twitter when I got home and that he's really nice and I shouldn't be kissing him because he's clearly FAR more into this than I am.  Put me on a spit and roast me over the flames of hell.

I even went so far as to think of another person.  MORE than one other person.  Oddly THAT didn't do anything for me either.  That simply proves my point that it really isn't him or anyone else [similar past post], it's me.  And just because I found it easier to come home and drink the entire bottle of wine as opposed to recorking it (I mean, who recorks, right?), I'm going to tell you something that I've never told anyone.  Honest to God never told ANYONE.  Ever.  For real.  Until now, I am the only person in the entire world that has held this knowledge.

A while back I think I was in love.  Not sure because I never had a good example so I just truly don't know, but it ended stupidly. I was literally crushed.   About three weeks later I met another guy and we talked and just became friends, and in about a week or so it became more.  Totally unplanned, classic rebound.  Then I found out that not only was his GIRLFRIEND paying for his apartment, but he never got divorced from his wife and had two kids. Jayzus.  So anyway - I fucking short circuited.  Like, big time.  I made this vow/promise of sorts to myself that I wouldn't let myself have sex or get emotionally involved with anyone unless it was a guy I intended to marry.  (Whether it happened or not is irrelevant, just that that was my intent.)  After a long while, I changed it to 'someone that I felt I loved, even if they didn't feel the same'.  Eventually I altered it to be 'someone that I liked and had mutual respect for and was fun'.  You can see the progression when I realized my initial vow (made because I was hurt and frustrated) seemed a bit harsh and self-limiting.  I mean, I may never marry, and that's ok, but I thought ahead to verbally/mentally amend my original promise to myself.  Or so I thought.

Anyway.  Do you have ANY idea when that was?  It's so easy to remember because unfortunately it falls within days of an infamous anniversary that keeps those of us in the US (not solely) on our toes... 9/11.  So, there was this other guy that I kissed a while after I made that vow but I declined sleeping with him.  (Dummy, I'd liked this guy since FOREVER!)  There were various opportunities but I just shut myself off to them; full on self-preservation mode.  Oh, I should take this moment to clarify - I mean the ORIGINAL 9/11.

That's right.  You read correctly (assuming anyone reads my shit anymore) - 9.11.01.  I'll let you do the math and assimilate accordingly.  I've completely shut myself off to any interaction.  Self-preservation comes at a very high price, my friends.  (I'll give you a moment to digest that and it's implications.)

So I tried to get into it and remind myself that this guy ("D") really likes me, and has for quite a long time.  No luck.  Nothing anywhere.  It's like the wires were cut.  In a way, they were, I cut them many years ago.  On my way home, I was too stunned to even cry and figured I'd get home and probably slash my leg somewhere undetectable and just bleed it out.  But I haven't yet.  I've not done that in a number of years and I hope tonight isn't the night I relapse.  Right now, I'm not really sure how that will end.

Christ, how much can one person fuck up their own life in the name of self preservation?  I can handle it myself, I suppose, it's kind of all I know.  But it isn't fair to him.  He doesn't deserve someone who is just going through the motions because of a lifetime of fuckedupness (that is too a real word). And for some unknown, god-forsaken reason, he likes me.  A lot.

Sometimes I'm grateful no one reads this anymore.  I just had to say this and get it off my chest before I took other (sharper) measures.  Like I said, if I lived another 50 years, there wouldn't be enough therapy to right the wrongs.  I'd say 'I weep for that' but I don't think I'm able anymore.  All lines are severed.  

Proof that you never really know what is going on inside the head of anyone you meet.

Yes, Captain, we're set to self-destruct in 3...2...1...

It started normal enough.  

Somewhere along the way something went wrong and I'm not sure where.  I mean, it's all in my head, but my head is really all I've got, so I'm not so sure that is a comfort.

Right now I'm convinced that there is no way that I can do anything right.  Everything is wrong and I am just existing and putting on a fake smile.  I really want to yank down my pants, bend over and moon the world with my big, white ass.  Or not.  Maybe just sit and stare out the window.

How things have gotten to be such a mess, I'll never know.  My fix?  For the moment.... I GIVE THE FUCK UP!  And I have to raise my alcohol tolerance again (goal: no cardiac effects).  Not to where it used to be ~ I sure as hell couldn't afford that kind of habit anymore, but to a level where I can have a few drinks and just forget about shit.  Just forget the fuck about it.

Forget about strength and sense.  Forget about logic and compassion.  Forget about dreams and goals and being nice and absently replying 'fine' when asked how I am because clearly, everything is not fucking fine.

And then one day it will be worse. 

And eventually, it will get better.

I would just give 90% of my stuff away and walk away from my life but people think you're suicidal when you give all your shit away.  Which I'm not.  Obviously I thrive on the twisted perversion of life to have stuck around for so long.  

Sometimes I think I am socially inept, and then I remember that a) people are weird and b) I should't think so much.

In a nutshell:

Went to a retirement dinner for my boss last night and spent far more time with 'work peeps' off the time clock than I'd prefer but got an interesting reaction from someone.  I'm not too shabby when I clean up (given that most of the time everyone sees me in scrubs with no makeup) and got a compliment along with some surprising-yet-not physical contact.  Nothing major, just that it was a WORK thing.  Awkward.  Just take my word for it.

Then I went off to meet a friend for her birthday celebration where her uncle (that I happen to have had this secret crush on for like, oh, 10 years now...) kisses me right on the lips.  Twice.  His wife was on the premises and it wasn't creepy, but it's hard to carry on a conversation after that, you know?  So I spent time talking to lots of people and in the end, six of us went to another bar.  (For the record, I had one beer - sober girl here.)  At that bar, one of the two people I didn't know (Ross, I believe) starts to chat with me.  No big deal, his girlfriend is there and we're just talking.  As time goes on, I realize he's asked all the 'get to know you' questions, then, polite and nice as he was, it sort of got weird.  He was just sitting there.  Looking at me.  Asking me all sorts of questions that weren't exactly inappropriate, but I didn't expect them from a guy - guys don't give a shit about those things.  Or really much of anything relating to a steady conversation.  

Had a good time but either my social skills have lapsed beyond belief, which I'm sure they have, or I was getting both physical and non-physical strangeness from the opposite sex.  (Her uncle doesn't count, no one knows I have a crush on him, he's just a nice guy.)  Strange brew last night.  No wonder I rarely go out.  Shit gets weird.  If you knew the circumstances, you'd get it, but I'm not going to belabor the issue.  Just a peculiar night.

I'll be back to tell you about the second bar we went to.  Wow.  Talk about a trip.  F'real.

March Madness begins

And it has nothing to do with basketball.  March and April, actually.  To think that I will be able to keep up with the pace set forth (self-imposed and otherwise) is unrealistic to say the least.  Given that, I'm plodding headlong into the thick of it. 

Monday, March 4th...

Introduced to  this on XM and was immediately smitten.  Heard it a few more times then happened to look at their website.  Guess who just made it in under the wire to see them in Cleveland tonight?  If you guessed me... spot on.  Yay you.  ;)
  

A mind is a terrible thing to waist...

Even though it drives me crazy, yes, the post title spelling is intentional.

There's something that's been on my mind for a while and if I don't blurt it out, it's going to sit there and torture me like some sadistic little thorny fucker until I do.

Somehow the topic of body dysmorphic disorder came up.  Don't ask me where - at work?  Facebook?  Email?  I don't remember, but it got me thinking about how we view ourselves and each other.  Not even sure this will make sense, but hey, that has never stopped me before.

Most people have some sort of issues (real or perceived) about themselves and their body.  There are shelves upon shelves of books on the subject so I don't think it's just a theory on my part... we've got issues.  It all boils down to people feeling too something or not enough something.

Along the way, I developed a bad habit.  I scrutinized just about every female that I was around; studied them, almost.  And no, not in a creepy, obvious way.  Occasionally tv or photos in magazines would warrant a glance, but it was mostly in person.  Their hair, hands, ankles, shoulder, ass... you name it and I had put enough attention into this study that one would think I was trying to commit the images to memory.  It was actually reminiscent of when I was in art school and we had a model to draw.  That breakdown of parts and shapes in order to make sense of the whole as if bit by bit.

For a while, I'd even wondered if I had latent lesbionic tendencies.  (I don't think that's a real word, but I heard it on a tv show years ago and got a good laugh.  And for the record, I don't give a damn about anyone's sexual orientation.)  Anyway, for years the thought crossed my mind but I've never actually had anything to give me the idea that I might be bisexual.  Not attracted to women really in any sense so although I questioned it, I had nothing to back up the concept.  Of course the idea that I was spending a significant amount of time paying attention to how other women looked was becoming just plain weird, not to mention confusing, especially given the fact that I wasn't attracted to them.  

Can't say for sure when I figured it out, but I'm glad I did.  Turns out, the entire time I've been comparing. Which is why tv/magazine images didn't hold my interest.  I craved that live model to study.  My body image is fucked 12 ways to Sunday and some part of me was trying to right that imbalance. A handful of years ago I lost a significant amount of weight.  Even then I still saw the same person in the mirror.  I lost 100# and couldn't see the difference.  Dropped 10 sizes and couldn't see it.  Granted, I'm still overweight, but I clearly do not see myself as my actual size.  My poor little brain sees other women and is trying to make sense of their size in relation to my own, although I think I can see them realistically, it's me that I can't see that way.

I'd be lying if I said it wasn't beginning to be of some concern.  Staring at women one day, making a suit of their skin (a la Silence of the Lambs) the next.  I mean, I really couldn't figure it out.  Of course I've never said this to anyone and doubt I will.  Other than here, obviously.  If a friend of mine told me this, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't be wondering if they were watching me.  It really would be a bit on the creepy side.  No one but me truly knows that it's really as far from creepy as you can get.  It was literally all about me and my warped image of my own body ~ it had nothing to do with them.  They were merely a benchmark, so to speak.  

Having identified this issue, I am going to have to read a few books on the topic and perhaps glean some sort of helpful information that I can apply.  Some obsessive tendencies probably made this worse, but the fact that I still see no difference in me physically after such a profound change is really kind of sad.  It is akin to always looking in a fun-house mirror, I'd imagine.  Except it isn't fun.  Not at all.

That fleeting moment of pride...

When I thought I'd fixed my comments.  Only to find out I didn't.  Fleeting, I tell you.

*sigh*

They might be showing up in my Gmail account now (maybe) but still nothing in my regular email account no matter how I change the settings on here.  Once I got something to show up in Gmail, I got snazzy and all ITish and forwarded it to my standard email address.  It's either taking the scenic route through ye olde interwebbe or it just refuses to cooperate.  Nothing so far.  Ten minutes is a lifetime of a wait when you're talking about the internet, you know?

If it ever works, I'll probably pee my pants out of utter shock.

Why am I still awake?

It is something like 2:15a or some stupid shit like that.  No, really... WHY am I still awake?  I'm tired, barely made it through the news, and now I'm sitting here.  Trying to figure out why I'm not sleeping.  This is the exact reason I don't have a tv in my bedroom.  I'd be up until my alarm went off in the morning learning how to correctly measure for a new countertop or buying those pajama jeans or watching a weather channel marathon.  You know, all those meaningful things.

Sometimes I suppose I just have to embrace the stupidity that is human nature.

And the fact that I have a very distorted concept of time, if any.

Carry on.

If you ever wonder where it all began... it was here. Right. Here.

For some reason it occurred to me that it's January.  Granted, I've had almost a full month to come to terms with that, but it didn't seem to matter until now.  All of a sudden I figured out why.  As I sat there posting videos, lost in some crunchy blues guitar, I realized that it is my Blogiversary!  To.  The.  Day.

Ho-lee shit.  This ridiculosity started in January 2005.  Eight years of spewing forth.  Right here.  Now, I had been lurking and commenting for a few weeks or so prior to posting anything, but somehow, that first post must be burned into some long, lost cobweb-laden pocket of my brain.  Some part of me must have remembered, vaguely, even.  Not that I knew the date, but it came to mind that it was in January some time.  Strange. 

Occasionally I look back on some of those old posts but then I can only do that for so long.  Man.  I though I was bitter back then.  No, not even close.  But as we all know, life can do that to a person.  I think I'm going to have to work a little harder to lose some "bitter" and bump it up to sarcasm again.  

What a difference eight years can make.

I'd say I was sorry but that would be insincere.

Basically I'm referring to all of the videos I just posted all rapid-fire like.  Besides, you have full control over what you look at, so it isn't like I'm holding your eyes and ears (?) open to take it all in.  Their sound changes so if you don't like one, move on to another one.  Or don't.  My blog, my posts.  Dems da rules.

In general I'm feeling that I apologize way too often for things that either aren't my fault or are beyond my control.  Pretty sure we've all been there at some point, haven't we?  And yes, I DO feel that I can boldly speak for most of humanity regarding this issue.  

Going to have to nip that whole insincere apology thing in the bud.  All it truly is is some basic manners that have been turned into habit.  Not that that is all bad... here's an example I can give.  I work in what was once a hospital bathroom and hallway.  Our med refrigerator is literally in a shower stall.  So, you can imagine the space limitations.  There are two of us in that satellite pharmacy and neither of us are petite by any means.  No matter, short of being Stuart Little, it would still be a tight fit.  In that space, being 5' 1" and 98# won't save you from taking up too much space.  But what do we do all day... 'excuse me', 'sorry', blah, blah, blah... as if it's our fault that they built a pharmacy in a fucking bathroom and hallway!  For a year and a half - still apologizing!

Another example, people in the store that block my path... I apologize when I need to squeeze past them.  Clearly THEY are the obstruction here; they're having a fucking family reunion in the middle of the aisle yet I feel the need to apologize.  

My point is, what starts off as good manners (it IS proper and polite to say 'excuse me, I'm sorry' when you're unexpectedly butts to nuts with someone, you know?) somehow loses all sincerity and really undermines your own confidence on some level when you're always saying you're sorry.  When it becomes rote, just a habit that you can barely even recognize anymore until it is pointed out to you, then it really means nothing, does it?

Maybe I should have made a New Year's resolution... to stop apologizing.  But I didn't.  To which I could say 'fuck it and I'm not sorry'.  Hey!  When is Lent?  I could give up insincere apologizing for Lent.  Yes!  (No, I haven't found religion, but hey, that's how I kicked my frappuccino habit and never looked back...)

Seriously cool video by The Pack a.d. - Sirens

I prefer not to be disturbed when I'm on a roll in my own head.  Just keep the name of the song in mind when you watch the video.  Well done.  I've got two CDs on their way to me as we speak.  This band is my new addiction.

I lied... I'm on a roll... more Pack A.D.... **WARNING**

**WARNING**  Shortly after the 0:30 mark, well, just brace yourself.  And maybe make sure kids aren't around.  It is a bit disturbing.  And I suppose the end is a bit violent as well.

My "new" band... The Pack A.D. - Wolves and Werewolves

Last one, I think.  Never saw the show Being Human, but perhaps this was played in an episode.  Either way, These two make quite a bit of noise, no?  It's like crunchy garage/punk with some rockabilly and blues.  Kindly, I've posted several selections for you.  Meh... I might do another one.  Simply because I'm generous like that.

My "new" band.... The Pack A.D. - Underground

This is the song that totally sealed the deal.  I knew I had to have this at max volume in my car... windows down with that crunchy bluesy riff.  (Clearly not now, but when the weather warms up...)

My "new" band.... The Pack a.d. - Take

This is the first song I heard by them and it just snowballed from there.  Gotta love the tribute to Gary Newman here.  So spot on it's creepy.  But so was he.  And so is this band, in a way.  Ok, carry on.  

And so it begins, this "2013" people speak of.

I'm not sure how I feel about it, really.  

The one thing I do know is that it will hold great change.  Not that the changes will actually BE great, but you get my point.  Things are such in my life that there really isn't much of an option but for them to change.

Unfortunately starting off the year in a depressive state is not really what I would have chosen, but then again, we rarely get to choose things like that, now, do we?  Can't take any meds, so I have to tough it out and hope I don't make any really stupid choices before it passes.

And my blogger comment notifications STILL go into the ether somewhere... not to either email I have listed.  Come ON Blogger, get your fucking shit together already!  I don't have the patience to be dicking around with the likes of you and your little quirks. 

My new goal is to sell a few things on eBay again - enough to get a new tattoo.  Not 'the big one' I wanted, just one to hold me over.  Most likely lyrics, as it were. 

Today is my Christmas.  I fucked up the other one but no one in my family celebrates this one anymore, so that's just one more thing to carry - that I fucked up Christmas.  I suppose I kind of did, but 1) I TRULY didn't start it and 2) you can't reason with mental illness.  So, in the words of Kid Rock... 'fuck all you hoes".

Which, in case you were wondering, those would NOT be the lyrics I want inked.