I was just wondering if anyone else did....
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Do you ever get the feeling that you're just talking to yourself?
I constantly do.
I was just wondering if anyone else did....
I was just wondering if anyone else did....
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
| You Have A Type A- Personality |
You are one of the most balanced people around Motivated and focused, you are good at getting what you want You rule at success, but success doesn't rule you. When it's playtime, you really know how to kick back Whether it's hanging out with friends or doing something you love! You live life to the fullest - encorporating the best of both worlds |
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Karma's a bitch!!
And don't you forget it!!
So that horrible woman who terrorized me for 9 months as my boss has finally gotten what she deserves. The best part? Not only did I have absolutely nothing to do with it, but even in my wildest revenge fantasies, I could never have come up with something this wild.
Seems she was summarily fired, very publicly. Why, you ask?
Let me tell you a little story. There once was a very rich man. He invented a machine that rolled cigarettes and invented cigarette paper or something along those lines, but he was very, very rich. When he died, he left his huge estate and property to the city. A foundation was created to maintain the mansion, the gardens, the surrounding park and a nature center that was stocked with animals indigenous to the state.
Many, many years later, a woman and her four year old son were eating apples outside the bear habitat. Somehow, there are conflicting stories, the little boy got past the four foot barrier between the viewing area and the actual cage and reached his hand in the cage to try to pet one of the black bears. Apparently smelling the apple, the bear nipped at the little boys hand. Several hours later, the little boy was treated and released at a local ER. He didn't even require stitches.
The response from the health department was to euthanise both bears, since they couldn't be sure which one bit the child and they couldn't test them for rabies while they were still alive. The citizen response was quick and violent. People were more upset about the loss of the bears than they had been about the last hundred homicides in the city!! The mayor publicly denounced the euthanizing of the bears and demanded an inquest.
So, as a former insider and a person who would have been directly involved with this fiasco had I not gotten the hell out of there, let me offer a few thoughts. The kid could barely have been scratched by the bear ~ a true bite would have taken off a four year old's hand. There have only been a handful of cases of rabies in black bears ever. If they had been exposed to a rabid animal, they would have killed it, leaving a carcass in their habitat and none was found. Rabies prophylaxis is no longer injections into the stomach, it's now a series of four shots into the arm. Not that big a deal. City policy is to quarantine an animal and watch it for signs of rabies, not automatically euthanize it. There was no effort made to do that with the bears. Basically, the pooch was summarily screwed.
The whole city hated her. She was sent packing ~ it was about time.
Which reminds me of the post script I left off my letter of resignation.
Watch your back. Karma's a bitch.
So that horrible woman who terrorized me for 9 months as my boss has finally gotten what she deserves. The best part? Not only did I have absolutely nothing to do with it, but even in my wildest revenge fantasies, I could never have come up with something this wild.
Seems she was summarily fired, very publicly. Why, you ask?
Let me tell you a little story. There once was a very rich man. He invented a machine that rolled cigarettes and invented cigarette paper or something along those lines, but he was very, very rich. When he died, he left his huge estate and property to the city. A foundation was created to maintain the mansion, the gardens, the surrounding park and a nature center that was stocked with animals indigenous to the state.
Many, many years later, a woman and her four year old son were eating apples outside the bear habitat. Somehow, there are conflicting stories, the little boy got past the four foot barrier between the viewing area and the actual cage and reached his hand in the cage to try to pet one of the black bears. Apparently smelling the apple, the bear nipped at the little boys hand. Several hours later, the little boy was treated and released at a local ER. He didn't even require stitches.
The response from the health department was to euthanise both bears, since they couldn't be sure which one bit the child and they couldn't test them for rabies while they were still alive. The citizen response was quick and violent. People were more upset about the loss of the bears than they had been about the last hundred homicides in the city!! The mayor publicly denounced the euthanizing of the bears and demanded an inquest.
So, as a former insider and a person who would have been directly involved with this fiasco had I not gotten the hell out of there, let me offer a few thoughts. The kid could barely have been scratched by the bear ~ a true bite would have taken off a four year old's hand. There have only been a handful of cases of rabies in black bears ever. If they had been exposed to a rabid animal, they would have killed it, leaving a carcass in their habitat and none was found. Rabies prophylaxis is no longer injections into the stomach, it's now a series of four shots into the arm. Not that big a deal. City policy is to quarantine an animal and watch it for signs of rabies, not automatically euthanize it. There was no effort made to do that with the bears. Basically, the pooch was summarily screwed.
The whole city hated her. She was sent packing ~ it was about time.
Which reminds me of the post script I left off my letter of resignation.
Watch your back. Karma's a bitch.
Friday, February 24, 2006
And yet it explains so much...
| Your Quirk Factor: 66% |
 You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average." |
Monday, February 20, 2006
My current iPod playlist -- How to Save A Life
How to Save A Life
1. Closer ~ Josh Radin
2. Adelaide ~ Old '97s
3. Always Love ~ Nada Surf
4. How to Save A Life ~ The Fray
5. For you i will (confidence) ~ Teddy Geiger
6. World Spins Madly On ~ The Weepies
7. If We Cannot See ~ Devics
8. A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a little More "Touch Me" ~ Fall Out Boy
9. Wisemen ~ James Blunt
10. Catalyst ~ Anna Nalick
11. Look What You've Done ~ Jet
12. Change Your Mind ~ All American Rejects
13. Maybe It's Just Me ~ Butch Walker
14. Here's to the Night ~ Eve 6
15. Goodbye My Lover ~ James Blunt
16. Here Comes Your Ride ~ Holidays on Ice
17. Inside of Love ~ Nada Surf
18. Today Has Been Okay ~ Emiliana Torrini
19. All Will Be Well ~ Gabe Dixon
20. Dirty Little Secret ~ All American Rejects
1. Closer ~ Josh Radin
2. Adelaide ~ Old '97s
3. Always Love ~ Nada Surf
4. How to Save A Life ~ The Fray
5. For you i will (confidence) ~ Teddy Geiger
6. World Spins Madly On ~ The Weepies
7. If We Cannot See ~ Devics
8. A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a little More "Touch Me" ~ Fall Out Boy
9. Wisemen ~ James Blunt
10. Catalyst ~ Anna Nalick
11. Look What You've Done ~ Jet
12. Change Your Mind ~ All American Rejects
13. Maybe It's Just Me ~ Butch Walker
14. Here's to the Night ~ Eve 6
15. Goodbye My Lover ~ James Blunt
16. Here Comes Your Ride ~ Holidays on Ice
17. Inside of Love ~ Nada Surf
18. Today Has Been Okay ~ Emiliana Torrini
19. All Will Be Well ~ Gabe Dixon
20. Dirty Little Secret ~ All American Rejects
Thursday, January 12, 2006
A Note on "Compact" Cars
I've just started a new job. I know, very exciting. But before I go into any of the exciting details of my new job and my new life, I need to vent a little.
At my new office we have a parking garage where a significant portion of the parking spaces are marked "compact cars only." Now, I understand that I now live in Texas and that the generally accepted definition of "compact" is the difference between an F-350 and an F-150, but unfortunately, civil engineers prefer to go with the other definition of compact. So let me try to help y'all out a little here.
Compact cars are typically foreign (although not always), they have no towing capacity, they frequently have a two-door and/or hatch back option, people over six feet tall generally avoid sitting in the back seat and they are absolutely worthless in any kind of farming or ranching operation. A few guidelines: if your vehicle is an SUV, not a compact; Having "mini" as the first part of your vehicle's title only counts if the second part is "cooper", generally speaking, the whole "van" thing negates the "mini"; if your vehicle has four wheels on the rear axle, not compact; if you get to pay the lower registration fee because your vehicle weighs at least half a ton or qualifies as a farm vehicile, not a compact; and going back to the towing capacity rule, if you've got towing capacity, not a compact. And for those of you needing special attention: Ford Exposition, anything made by Lincoln or Cadillac, not a compact!
At my new office we have a parking garage where a significant portion of the parking spaces are marked "compact cars only." Now, I understand that I now live in Texas and that the generally accepted definition of "compact" is the difference between an F-350 and an F-150, but unfortunately, civil engineers prefer to go with the other definition of compact. So let me try to help y'all out a little here.
Compact cars are typically foreign (although not always), they have no towing capacity, they frequently have a two-door and/or hatch back option, people over six feet tall generally avoid sitting in the back seat and they are absolutely worthless in any kind of farming or ranching operation. A few guidelines: if your vehicle is an SUV, not a compact; Having "mini" as the first part of your vehicle's title only counts if the second part is "cooper", generally speaking, the whole "van" thing negates the "mini"; if your vehicle has four wheels on the rear axle, not compact; if you get to pay the lower registration fee because your vehicle weighs at least half a ton or qualifies as a farm vehicile, not a compact; and going back to the towing capacity rule, if you've got towing capacity, not a compact. And for those of you needing special attention: Ford Exposition, anything made by Lincoln or Cadillac, not a compact!
Friday, January 06, 2006
Apparently you didn't escape Virginia soon enough....
| Your Linguistic Profile:: |
| 45% General American English |
| 40% Yankee |
| 5% Dixie |
| 5% Upper Midwestern |
| 0% Midwestern |
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
The goat
I'm on the road to my new "home" (also known as my sister's guest room) and my father and I are driving the 1500 miles from my house to her house in my Civic Hybrid. The movers cames two days ago to empty my house ~ it seems like a lifetime ago. And we finished cleaning and cramming other things into the tiny little trunk of my car. I actually packed the car, in the pouring rain. I got so soaked that I needed to get my bag out of the car and change clothes before we could head off.
The first night was a nightmare. We left later than planned. I hadn't gotten ANY sleep in days and driving over Afton Mountain in a storm is a nightmare and a half ~ add to that the gas light going on and my tank indicator reaching empty for the time ever ~ I was convinced the car would die and we would be stuck on Afton Mt in the middle of the storm, well after dark ~ Happy New Year!!
Obviously we made it. Night two was in Memphis and tonight we're in Little Rock. I have officially driven through every major city in Tennessee, not that it was ever a particular goal of mine, but I have now done it!!!
There is a point to all this, a goat in fact. While we've been driving (my father actually has taken the wheel since my near nervous breakdown on Afton Mt) I've been taking advantage of Verizon's free cell to cell minutes. Nearly the entire family has Verizon so we're really getting our money's worth. I think this story is probably funnier if my Dad were to tell it since hearing just the one side of the conversation made it all that more "monty python-esque." But, he doesn't have a blog, so you're just going to have to live with my story.
Anyway, big adventures back in NH. There was a snow storm overnight, not a big deal, but when my mom looked out the window, she saw fresh footprints leading around my parents' house. She went to look out the front and there are fresh tire tracks in the driveway and foot prints leading to the back of the house. My mom goes down to the basement to make sure no one has broken in through the window in the back yard or anything, but nothing is disturbed in the basement. Now after conferring with several neighbors, she decides to call the police, not the emergency number, the other one, to report suspicious activity. So a little bit later, a cruiser pulls into the driveway and two officers get out. It turns out the tracks were left by the police. There was a break-in at the 7 Eleven down at the end of the street the preceding night, by a goat, and the police caught up with the goat in my parents' yard and chased him around the house where he escaped into the woods.
Yes, you read correctly. A goat broke into the 7 Eleven. And no, the police department of my hometown was unable to capture it. But aparrently it was no ordinary goat (not that the breaking and entering would have in any way tipped you off to that) It is an enormous white horned goat. (My father later provided more of his infamous animal expertise to mention that all goats have horns, both male and female.)
I'm sure there will be more to this story.....
The first night was a nightmare. We left later than planned. I hadn't gotten ANY sleep in days and driving over Afton Mountain in a storm is a nightmare and a half ~ add to that the gas light going on and my tank indicator reaching empty for the time ever ~ I was convinced the car would die and we would be stuck on Afton Mt in the middle of the storm, well after dark ~ Happy New Year!!
Obviously we made it. Night two was in Memphis and tonight we're in Little Rock. I have officially driven through every major city in Tennessee, not that it was ever a particular goal of mine, but I have now done it!!!
There is a point to all this, a goat in fact. While we've been driving (my father actually has taken the wheel since my near nervous breakdown on Afton Mt) I've been taking advantage of Verizon's free cell to cell minutes. Nearly the entire family has Verizon so we're really getting our money's worth. I think this story is probably funnier if my Dad were to tell it since hearing just the one side of the conversation made it all that more "monty python-esque." But, he doesn't have a blog, so you're just going to have to live with my story.
Anyway, big adventures back in NH. There was a snow storm overnight, not a big deal, but when my mom looked out the window, she saw fresh footprints leading around my parents' house. She went to look out the front and there are fresh tire tracks in the driveway and foot prints leading to the back of the house. My mom goes down to the basement to make sure no one has broken in through the window in the back yard or anything, but nothing is disturbed in the basement. Now after conferring with several neighbors, she decides to call the police, not the emergency number, the other one, to report suspicious activity. So a little bit later, a cruiser pulls into the driveway and two officers get out. It turns out the tracks were left by the police. There was a break-in at the 7 Eleven down at the end of the street the preceding night, by a goat, and the police caught up with the goat in my parents' yard and chased him around the house where he escaped into the woods.
Yes, you read correctly. A goat broke into the 7 Eleven. And no, the police department of my hometown was unable to capture it. But aparrently it was no ordinary goat (not that the breaking and entering would have in any way tipped you off to that) It is an enormous white horned goat. (My father later provided more of his infamous animal expertise to mention that all goats have horns, both male and female.)
I'm sure there will be more to this story.....
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Not an ostrich....
So leave it to Fisher Price to still keep 'educational toy' from becoming an oxymoron. This Christmas I, or rather Santa Claus, got my nephew the new Little People ABC Zoo from Fisher Price. He loved the ark so much last year that something with more animals or guys as he refers to them, seemed like an obvious choice.
For those of you not up on the current selection of Fisher Price toys, the ABC Zoo consists of 26 Little People Animals, each one with a name that starts with a different letter of the alphabet. They all have the first letter of their name on their chests which in turn correspond to the little floor mat with a trail of all the letters in alphabetical in a trail through zoo habitats. When you press on one of the letters, it makes the animal's sound. Press on it a second time and it says the animal's name.
My nephew is thrilled with this new toy. NEW GUYS!! And he spends most of Christmas morning using the animals to press the mat and make the noises and here the female voice enunciate their names. "Flamingo" he repeats, "iguana, dolphin, yak, nightingale, koala, xray fish, rhinoceros, jaguar, seal, camel, vulture, ostrich, urial" He giggles while saying each new word. My nephew's vocabulary has expanded by 15 words in one morning!! (And we all have to admit that we can't even guess on which continent one might find a urial. It's a wild sheep found in the mountains of Northern Asia, for those of you who are interested.)
When his grandparents arrive, he holds up each of his new guys and proudly announces their species. Not even two, and he's getting them all right. Grandparents are amazed. We start playing a game. Every time he picks up an animal, we ask him what animal it is. He complies for a while but then loses interest and rebels. "Not an ostrich," with a mischievous grin becomes his stock answer.
For those of you not up on the current selection of Fisher Price toys, the ABC Zoo consists of 26 Little People Animals, each one with a name that starts with a different letter of the alphabet. They all have the first letter of their name on their chests which in turn correspond to the little floor mat with a trail of all the letters in alphabetical in a trail through zoo habitats. When you press on one of the letters, it makes the animal's sound. Press on it a second time and it says the animal's name.
My nephew is thrilled with this new toy. NEW GUYS!! And he spends most of Christmas morning using the animals to press the mat and make the noises and here the female voice enunciate their names. "Flamingo" he repeats, "iguana, dolphin, yak, nightingale, koala, xray fish, rhinoceros, jaguar, seal, camel, vulture, ostrich, urial" He giggles while saying each new word. My nephew's vocabulary has expanded by 15 words in one morning!! (And we all have to admit that we can't even guess on which continent one might find a urial. It's a wild sheep found in the mountains of Northern Asia, for those of you who are interested.)
When his grandparents arrive, he holds up each of his new guys and proudly announces their species. Not even two, and he's getting them all right. Grandparents are amazed. We start playing a game. Every time he picks up an animal, we ask him what animal it is. He complies for a while but then loses interest and rebels. "Not an ostrich," with a mischievous grin becomes his stock answer.
Friday, December 23, 2005
TSA is ON the job...
I know a lot of people have been talking this holiday season about the new TSA guidelines that allow scissors and four inch knives into the passenger cabins of American planes and whether or not that actually is making us safer or putting us in danger of those folks who desparately need to wrap their gifts since they couldn't get through security with them wrapped....
Well, TSA has uncovered yet another potential threat to the American skies ~ domestic animals traveling in cargo areas.
Specifically, my eight pound half yellow tabby, half maine coon cat... She's not a particularly good traveler and even less of a people person. So we're at the Delta check-in, mind you I'm flying Delta so that I will be connecting through Atlanta and not Pittsburgh or Chicago or somewhere else my cat might freeze her tuckus off, and we're told that we have to wait for a TSA agent to check out my cat's box before I can leave her there. Now, the cat, who was not easily gotten into said box, has to come out in the main area of a very busy airport just a few days before Christmas, and she's really not having any of it. When I finally tug her out. Her expression is definitely one more of flight than fright. I have to keep a firm hold on her hind hips just to make sure she doesn't take off for another destination and this is no easy task.
When the TSA agent finally saunters over, heck, he's in no rush! He's all gloved up (which always just cracks me up.) He proceeds to reach into the box/cage and rifle through her padded bed and her little toys all the while checking on me to see if any of this makes me nervous. And then, before he lets me put the cat back into her little nest in the box, he actually pats down the cat, as if she might be carrying a concealed weapon?!?! She has teeth and claws, why would she need anything else? Why not check her for explosive residue?
You know, I have heard Al Qaeda is beginning to use cats. You know, because they're so easy to train and control and all. They have an entire herd of them just waiting to attack!!!!
Well, TSA has uncovered yet another potential threat to the American skies ~ domestic animals traveling in cargo areas.
Specifically, my eight pound half yellow tabby, half maine coon cat... She's not a particularly good traveler and even less of a people person. So we're at the Delta check-in, mind you I'm flying Delta so that I will be connecting through Atlanta and not Pittsburgh or Chicago or somewhere else my cat might freeze her tuckus off, and we're told that we have to wait for a TSA agent to check out my cat's box before I can leave her there. Now, the cat, who was not easily gotten into said box, has to come out in the main area of a very busy airport just a few days before Christmas, and she's really not having any of it. When I finally tug her out. Her expression is definitely one more of flight than fright. I have to keep a firm hold on her hind hips just to make sure she doesn't take off for another destination and this is no easy task.
When the TSA agent finally saunters over, heck, he's in no rush! He's all gloved up (which always just cracks me up.) He proceeds to reach into the box/cage and rifle through her padded bed and her little toys all the while checking on me to see if any of this makes me nervous. And then, before he lets me put the cat back into her little nest in the box, he actually pats down the cat, as if she might be carrying a concealed weapon?!?! She has teeth and claws, why would she need anything else? Why not check her for explosive residue?
You know, I have heard Al Qaeda is beginning to use cats. You know, because they're so easy to train and control and all. They have an entire herd of them just waiting to attack!!!!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Thursday, December 01, 2005
It's official -- My cat's a gay man!!
So again, this is probably my fault.
A few years ago, after purchasing one for my brother-in-law (Scientific America, I believe), I decided to get myself one of those gift subscriptions for Real Simple that Barnes & Noble used to sell. When I went to fill out the card, I felt a bit ridiculous listing my own name as "recipient" and "gift giver," so I made my cat, my female cat, the recipient.
So, the cat's got a subscription to Real Simple. Not a big deal. The cat starts getting junk mail. My indoor cat is a member of The National Geographic Society!!! (Can you blame her?) My cat is pre-approved for an American Express card!!! (And it's about time she started chipping in!!) Martha Stewart wants to sell things to my cat!!! My cat can get the first few issues of In Style for free!!! My cat is getting offers for all sorts of home related magazines and very strongly feminine catalogs. We're both girls, we're fine. But then St. Jude's comes along. They want cash, from my cat. And they think they can guilt it out of her by sending her some personalized return address labels. For some reason they NEED to put a title on the labels for my cat (Admiral would have worked!!) and despite all previous marketing to the contrary, they've chosen "Mr." WTF???!
So St. Jude's lost out. They don't take American Express, not that we got the card.
A few years ago, after purchasing one for my brother-in-law (Scientific America, I believe), I decided to get myself one of those gift subscriptions for Real Simple that Barnes & Noble used to sell. When I went to fill out the card, I felt a bit ridiculous listing my own name as "recipient" and "gift giver," so I made my cat, my female cat, the recipient.
So, the cat's got a subscription to Real Simple. Not a big deal. The cat starts getting junk mail. My indoor cat is a member of The National Geographic Society!!! (Can you blame her?) My cat is pre-approved for an American Express card!!! (And it's about time she started chipping in!!) Martha Stewart wants to sell things to my cat!!! My cat can get the first few issues of In Style for free!!! My cat is getting offers for all sorts of home related magazines and very strongly feminine catalogs. We're both girls, we're fine. But then St. Jude's comes along. They want cash, from my cat. And they think they can guilt it out of her by sending her some personalized return address labels. For some reason they NEED to put a title on the labels for my cat (Admiral would have worked!!) and despite all previous marketing to the contrary, they've chosen "Mr." WTF???!
So St. Jude's lost out. They don't take American Express, not that we got the card.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Priceless!!!
Evan Picone "poppy" colored cocktail dress: $32.90 (including tax on clearance at Dillards)
"Appropriate" bra that will probably leave a rash: $12.99 (+tax at Target)
Perfect red Soho nice to meet you OPI nail polish for toe nails: $7.50
Looking at least 10 years younger on your 35th birthday: PRICELESS!!
"Appropriate" bra that will probably leave a rash: $12.99 (+tax at Target)
Perfect red Soho nice to meet you OPI nail polish for toe nails: $7.50
Looking at least 10 years younger on your 35th birthday: PRICELESS!!
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Metamorphosis
I've decided to start referring to this whole experience as a metamorphosis. It sounds much better than saying I'm recovering from a nervous breakdown. Not that I'm really saying much of anything. It's the big pink elephant in the room ~ the fact that I have a WIDE open schedule for no apparent reason. I'm thinking a "Don't ask; don't tell; do not pursue" policy is in order.
I've also been considering marking the upswing of this whole thing ~ you know, the fact that I've finally decided on life. I'm still not as passionate about it as I once was and I'm still very much involved in the weighing of when so much becomes too much. I think I will spend the rest of my life waiting for that time when I can comfortably say that I did my best and gave it the good fight and gracefully admit defeat ~ I guess I just don't get to do that at 34. So I think I'm going to get a tattoo instead. I found a Celtic butterfly that symbolizes resurrection and I think that's appropriate. I'd get it on the back of my hip just above my butt ~ some place that would never show unless I was wearing really low hip huggers ~ and when would I do that?
I've found out this time around, thinking that I had been through the worst and therefore prepared to face it again, that your mind or your body or some combination thereof actually protects you from the worst. Hitting bottom, I remembered things from 13 years ago that I had completely forgotten. You think that you know how much pain you can endure, but the worst pain you actually forget, so it's so much more. It was those memories and visiting those places again that made me wonder if I even wanted to continue on if and when I did get better. So I'd get better and things would be good, but eventually, I'd find myself back there again, so what was the point? How many times do you really have to claw your way out of the hole before you earn the right to stop trying?
A long time from now, is what my therapist told me. Easy for you! But that's why the tattoo is there. It reminds me how far down it goes and that I can come back, I do come back. And every morning I see it and am reminded of my own strength and resilience. There's also something about a permanent mark on my body from this episode that would otherwise not exist. How can you suffer a life threatening illness (15% mortality rate) and come within spitting distance of death and walk away with out a mark on you, not a single visible scar. Maybe I need that, to make it real for me, beyond all the drugs and the doctors and medical bills, like they're not enough of a reminder.
As much as not eating has been a worrisome symptom, the result has been quite helpful. I can wear clothes now that haven't fit since grad school. It's giving my self esteem a boost when I would otherwise have none.
I told my sister about the tattoo and all the symbolism and how I would see it every morning and be reminded of my own strength. The last time I went through this, I got a kitten. But now that I know I'm allergic to cats, that's just not an option, so I'm going for the tattoo.
I've also been considering marking the upswing of this whole thing ~ you know, the fact that I've finally decided on life. I'm still not as passionate about it as I once was and I'm still very much involved in the weighing of when so much becomes too much. I think I will spend the rest of my life waiting for that time when I can comfortably say that I did my best and gave it the good fight and gracefully admit defeat ~ I guess I just don't get to do that at 34. So I think I'm going to get a tattoo instead. I found a Celtic butterfly that symbolizes resurrection and I think that's appropriate. I'd get it on the back of my hip just above my butt ~ some place that would never show unless I was wearing really low hip huggers ~ and when would I do that?
I've found out this time around, thinking that I had been through the worst and therefore prepared to face it again, that your mind or your body or some combination thereof actually protects you from the worst. Hitting bottom, I remembered things from 13 years ago that I had completely forgotten. You think that you know how much pain you can endure, but the worst pain you actually forget, so it's so much more. It was those memories and visiting those places again that made me wonder if I even wanted to continue on if and when I did get better. So I'd get better and things would be good, but eventually, I'd find myself back there again, so what was the point? How many times do you really have to claw your way out of the hole before you earn the right to stop trying?
A long time from now, is what my therapist told me. Easy for you! But that's why the tattoo is there. It reminds me how far down it goes and that I can come back, I do come back. And every morning I see it and am reminded of my own strength and resilience. There's also something about a permanent mark on my body from this episode that would otherwise not exist. How can you suffer a life threatening illness (15% mortality rate) and come within spitting distance of death and walk away with out a mark on you, not a single visible scar. Maybe I need that, to make it real for me, beyond all the drugs and the doctors and medical bills, like they're not enough of a reminder.
As much as not eating has been a worrisome symptom, the result has been quite helpful. I can wear clothes now that haven't fit since grad school. It's giving my self esteem a boost when I would otherwise have none.
I told my sister about the tattoo and all the symbolism and how I would see it every morning and be reminded of my own strength. The last time I went through this, I got a kitten. But now that I know I'm allergic to cats, that's just not an option, so I'm going for the tattoo.
Monday, July 18, 2005
The games we play
Eastham, MA
I've been playing this rather cruel game with my mother lately. It arose out of my mother's complete lack of attention to details -- it took her 30+ to notice/remember how I take my tea despite the fact that I've drank it the same way for 30 years. Anyway, I've noticed on all the crime and cop shows that parents are always able to immediately identify jewelry/moles/scars from their missing/deceased children and/or all identifying features. I have my doubts that my mother could provide either. I was right, of course.
Like I said, it's a rather cruel game to play, but at this point, my whole emotional pain yardstick is completely obliterated. I have no idea if this is a fair excuse? Maybe no. But don't I have a certain license to spread my pain for help in absorption?
The way I see it, she was asking for a taste. She arrived uninvited -- on a one way ticket; no talk of a return date. I found out later that my sister goaded her into it - "If she had a broken leg wouldn't you go down there?!" I think what my mother heard was "If she had a caesarian section, wouldn't you be there?" Of course she would! Of course she was!
So back to the torment of my mother. My therapist says I need to be more honest with my family ~ tell them how I really feel. He thinks I expend too much energy protecting them from the ugly places where I exist. But I've been doing it for so long that I don't even know where to start.
I fessed up about not wanting to be in New Hampshire with the car and the garage with the door that didn't need to be opened. I confessed that I couldn't bear the thought of Dad having to find me all alone especially after everything he went through with his mother. I told her I wasn't writing a will until I was sure I wanted to live. No point in having things resolved and making it easier to let go.
I haven't mentioned the exposed the beams on the porch or all the rope for sale at the flea market yesterday or all the thought I've put into the use of a dog leash. What is this anyway? Suicide by convenience? Why don't I just stick a fork in the toaster???!!1
I've been playing this rather cruel game with my mother lately. It arose out of my mother's complete lack of attention to details -- it took her 30+ to notice/remember how I take my tea despite the fact that I've drank it the same way for 30 years. Anyway, I've noticed on all the crime and cop shows that parents are always able to immediately identify jewelry/moles/scars from their missing/deceased children and/or all identifying features. I have my doubts that my mother could provide either. I was right, of course.
Like I said, it's a rather cruel game to play, but at this point, my whole emotional pain yardstick is completely obliterated. I have no idea if this is a fair excuse? Maybe no. But don't I have a certain license to spread my pain for help in absorption?
The way I see it, she was asking for a taste. She arrived uninvited -- on a one way ticket; no talk of a return date. I found out later that my sister goaded her into it - "If she had a broken leg wouldn't you go down there?!" I think what my mother heard was "If she had a caesarian section, wouldn't you be there?" Of course she would! Of course she was!
So back to the torment of my mother. My therapist says I need to be more honest with my family ~ tell them how I really feel. He thinks I expend too much energy protecting them from the ugly places where I exist. But I've been doing it for so long that I don't even know where to start.
I fessed up about not wanting to be in New Hampshire with the car and the garage with the door that didn't need to be opened. I confessed that I couldn't bear the thought of Dad having to find me all alone especially after everything he went through with his mother. I told her I wasn't writing a will until I was sure I wanted to live. No point in having things resolved and making it easier to let go.
I haven't mentioned the exposed the beams on the porch or all the rope for sale at the flea market yesterday or all the thought I've put into the use of a dog leash. What is this anyway? Suicide by convenience? Why don't I just stick a fork in the toaster???!!1
Friday, July 15, 2005
This is my life??
Eastham, MA
So you're probably asking yourself, because I definitely am ~ when did this become my life?? I'm on another family vacation ~ this one is set to be legendary ~ as my mom and aunt have mad a midnight trip to a slightly questionable 24 hour Laundromat (the only one on the Outer Cape, apparently) after my nephew awoke screaming B! B! We gathered in the living room where my sister has been sleeping since she believes she keeps the baby up or vice versa, figured he just lost his binky, so my sister fished another one out of her bag an headed into his room. Then quickly yelled to Mom for help and my mom in turn asked the aunts for assistance. He barfed all over himself, his bed and his very special doggie blankie. Mom and my sister bathed him while my aunt and I remade the bed. My sister got him dry and back into clean pajamas, but he was inconsolable without his blankie. Mom washed it in the sink, but having no way of drying it before morning headed off to the seedy coin-o-matic.
While I'm convinced my nephew doesn't really like me. He's always rather suspicious of me ~ still believes I'm some lesser or evil version of his mother. He's so attached to her that it's hard not to take it personally.
I guess I'm feeling better, but I just noticed the exposed beams on the screened in porch ~ how could I have never noticed them in the 20 years we've been coming to this house? And yes, they do make me a bit uncomfortable -- not that there's any rope around, mind you, just yarn, lots of yarn, and shoelaces. I'm considering the use of a dog leash. Which end would you hook over the beam? Would there be any benefit to having the metal piece tighten around your neck? These are things I need to consider.
And unlike with Dad, I really would not be upset for any of this crowd to find me -- well not as upset, anyway.
I still just really miss me, though.
So you're probably asking yourself, because I definitely am ~ when did this become my life?? I'm on another family vacation ~ this one is set to be legendary ~ as my mom and aunt have mad a midnight trip to a slightly questionable 24 hour Laundromat (the only one on the Outer Cape, apparently) after my nephew awoke screaming B! B! We gathered in the living room where my sister has been sleeping since she believes she keeps the baby up or vice versa, figured he just lost his binky, so my sister fished another one out of her bag an headed into his room. Then quickly yelled to Mom for help and my mom in turn asked the aunts for assistance. He barfed all over himself, his bed and his very special doggie blankie. Mom and my sister bathed him while my aunt and I remade the bed. My sister got him dry and back into clean pajamas, but he was inconsolable without his blankie. Mom washed it in the sink, but having no way of drying it before morning headed off to the seedy coin-o-matic.
While I'm convinced my nephew doesn't really like me. He's always rather suspicious of me ~ still believes I'm some lesser or evil version of his mother. He's so attached to her that it's hard not to take it personally.
I guess I'm feeling better, but I just noticed the exposed beams on the screened in porch ~ how could I have never noticed them in the 20 years we've been coming to this house? And yes, they do make me a bit uncomfortable -- not that there's any rope around, mind you, just yarn, lots of yarn, and shoelaces. I'm considering the use of a dog leash. Which end would you hook over the beam? Would there be any benefit to having the metal piece tighten around your neck? These are things I need to consider.
And unlike with Dad, I really would not be upset for any of this crowd to find me -- well not as upset, anyway.
I still just really miss me, though.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Middle of the night
Richmond, VA
My family calls throughout the day with the same questions. Are you okay? How do you feel? Are you safe?
It's the middle of the night when I can't sleep that I'm not alright. It's 1am - technically June 2nd - and I'm awake and exhausted and worn and weary and still awake. There's no one to talk to and tell that I'm not okay. That I can't have foxglove in my garden, that I'm relieved I don't own a garage.
And about the garage ~ funny thing I realized tonight. I actually bought a car that can't be used to kill oneself in a closed garage. Hybrids don't idle!!! So, um, yeah, for that plan, I'd need not only a garage, but also someone else's car.
But back to my real life. My cat locked herself in the bathroom today. Must be a sign of impending adolescence. I had to actually remove the doorknob to get the door open. WHY? Other people's cats don't lock themselves in bathrooms??!!
My family calls throughout the day with the same questions. Are you okay? How do you feel? Are you safe?
It's the middle of the night when I can't sleep that I'm not alright. It's 1am - technically June 2nd - and I'm awake and exhausted and worn and weary and still awake. There's no one to talk to and tell that I'm not okay. That I can't have foxglove in my garden, that I'm relieved I don't own a garage.
And about the garage ~ funny thing I realized tonight. I actually bought a car that can't be used to kill oneself in a closed garage. Hybrids don't idle!!! So, um, yeah, for that plan, I'd need not only a garage, but also someone else's car.
But back to my real life. My cat locked herself in the bathroom today. Must be a sign of impending adolescence. I had to actually remove the doorknob to get the door open. WHY? Other people's cats don't lock themselves in bathrooms??!!
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
No foxglove for me!!!
I've been kind of wondering/obsessing about how one extract digitalis from foxglove for the past few weeks. (Need to watch X-Files Eve6 episode again!) I mean, really, is it in the leaves or the sappish liquid in the stems? This knd of morbid curiousity (emphasis on morbid) has prevented me from including foxglove with the other perenniels I have planted in my front yard this year.
But, today at Home Depot, they had these gallon pots of apricot foxglove and the folliage looked just fantastic!! I mean like, toss it in the salad spinner, serve with sliced roma tomatoes and Ranch dressing, fantastic. Yeah, step away from the garden center now....
But, today at Home Depot, they had these gallon pots of apricot foxglove and the folliage looked just fantastic!! I mean like, toss it in the salad spinner, serve with sliced roma tomatoes and Ranch dressing, fantastic. Yeah, step away from the garden center now....
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Parental Supervision
Richmond, VA
So, Daddy's here. I can't be left alone, don't you know? He brought up the idea of me returning to New Hampshire with him, something that my sister mentioned to me last week. Seems like Mom discussed this plan with everyone before me. To hear her tell it, Dad blew the timing. He was supposed to wait until Monday and then casually mention that I could come back with him. Now that I think about it, that sounds oddly like the way I dropped out of college. They waited for me to be discharged from the hospital, let me go be to classes fro a day or so and then casually suggested that I could just go home.
Home. What on earth would I do in NH? Mom's gong to be at a conference in Vancouver and Dad will be working. All my friends up there have jobs -- not that I'm much for socializing. So, basically, I'd be alone without my stuff without my freedom without my bearings -- yeah, that sounds like a terrific idea. And I can't help but think of the last time I retreated -- college. Oh, god, it sucked. I was so lost. I have never felt as crazy in my life as I did in that house. No, it's not worth that.
And Dad has started asking the hard questions. What do I want to do next? Do I want to go back to my job? Do I want to go after my boss? I have a decent harassment case, but do I want to put myself through it? When it's all through, it will have been more than a year of my life, possibly two, that I will have lost to this episode and its fallout. It's an awful lot to lose when you actually have someone to blame.
I want to be vindictive. I'd love to just name her in the medical release/HIPAA lawsuit and get her far enough in to place liens on all her property and just completely fuck up her credit rating. That would make me happy.
Dad said that the key was to get me through this with the least amount of damage as possible. FUCK! How did I miss the no damage bus?? Explain to me again how any of this is fair?
So I actually had to listen to two of my married friends talk about what a horrible life another college friend had. She has some kidney disease that she is getting chemo-lite for and apparently her husband can't hold down a job because he can't "find his place."
Yeah, that just REALLY sucks. A disease that actually can be cured and has at least some end point. And being loved and not being alone even if the company is deeply flawed. Yeah, that's just ROTTEN. Do you ever wonder if people realize it when they're having these conversations in your presence? I'm definitely all into feeling sorry for this flaky girl I never really liked when I'm in the process of being shuttled around amongst family members because they're terrified I might kill myself and I'm mourning the loss of myself. I've just spent the last nine months of my life being tormented by the director of my department to the point where I'm on medical disability leave because I'm suicidally depressed. Yeah, I can feel the outpouring of empathing for the ditz and her worthless husband. Perhaps the empathy just went out for a powder with every other emotion that I seem to be devoid of in my numb little world.
So, Daddy's here. I can't be left alone, don't you know? He brought up the idea of me returning to New Hampshire with him, something that my sister mentioned to me last week. Seems like Mom discussed this plan with everyone before me. To hear her tell it, Dad blew the timing. He was supposed to wait until Monday and then casually mention that I could come back with him. Now that I think about it, that sounds oddly like the way I dropped out of college. They waited for me to be discharged from the hospital, let me go be to classes fro a day or so and then casually suggested that I could just go home.
Home. What on earth would I do in NH? Mom's gong to be at a conference in Vancouver and Dad will be working. All my friends up there have jobs -- not that I'm much for socializing. So, basically, I'd be alone without my stuff without my freedom without my bearings -- yeah, that sounds like a terrific idea. And I can't help but think of the last time I retreated -- college. Oh, god, it sucked. I was so lost. I have never felt as crazy in my life as I did in that house. No, it's not worth that.
And Dad has started asking the hard questions. What do I want to do next? Do I want to go back to my job? Do I want to go after my boss? I have a decent harassment case, but do I want to put myself through it? When it's all through, it will have been more than a year of my life, possibly two, that I will have lost to this episode and its fallout. It's an awful lot to lose when you actually have someone to blame.
I want to be vindictive. I'd love to just name her in the medical release/HIPAA lawsuit and get her far enough in to place liens on all her property and just completely fuck up her credit rating. That would make me happy.
Dad said that the key was to get me through this with the least amount of damage as possible. FUCK! How did I miss the no damage bus?? Explain to me again how any of this is fair?
So I actually had to listen to two of my married friends talk about what a horrible life another college friend had. She has some kidney disease that she is getting chemo-lite for and apparently her husband can't hold down a job because he can't "find his place."
Yeah, that just REALLY sucks. A disease that actually can be cured and has at least some end point. And being loved and not being alone even if the company is deeply flawed. Yeah, that's just ROTTEN. Do you ever wonder if people realize it when they're having these conversations in your presence? I'm definitely all into feeling sorry for this flaky girl I never really liked when I'm in the process of being shuttled around amongst family members because they're terrified I might kill myself and I'm mourning the loss of myself. I've just spent the last nine months of my life being tormented by the director of my department to the point where I'm on medical disability leave because I'm suicidally depressed. Yeah, I can feel the outpouring of empathing for the ditz and her worthless husband. Perhaps the empathy just went out for a powder with every other emotion that I seem to be devoid of in my numb little world.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Dropping Out of Life
Austin, TX
I'm taking six and a half pills twice a day now. I'm excused from work for 8 weeks and I haven't felt this rotten since I dropped out of college. I guess I'll refer to this as the time that I dropped out of my life.
I'm at my sister's staying with her while my brother-in-law is on his first business trip since my nephew's birth. It's supposed to be a help to her, but I think if we're all a little honest, I'm marginally more helpful than a housetrained retriever.
I know she's terrified of where I am and my nephew and I are holding each other at arm's reach, but I honestly don't whose arm.
I'm so exhausted all the time, like just existing is exhausting. And I'm not even existing as myself. I'm a shadow of myself just going through the motions and haunting this existence that belongs to me or some version of me that I can't even remember.
We, my sister and I -- and I think our mother as well -- live for these moments when I feel like myself. I've only had one of these moments in the last few weeks. A rather ridiculous moment, actually -- I was standing in the grocery store picking out Roma tomatoes and using all five fingers of one hand to test the tenderness of the tomato and it occured to me -- this is something I do.
How is it that a stupid tomato -- one that I never intend to eat even -- has more power to remind me of who I am than my sister or my nephew? Where is the fairness in that???
I'm taking six and a half pills twice a day now. I'm excused from work for 8 weeks and I haven't felt this rotten since I dropped out of college. I guess I'll refer to this as the time that I dropped out of my life.
I'm at my sister's staying with her while my brother-in-law is on his first business trip since my nephew's birth. It's supposed to be a help to her, but I think if we're all a little honest, I'm marginally more helpful than a housetrained retriever.
I know she's terrified of where I am and my nephew and I are holding each other at arm's reach, but I honestly don't whose arm.
I'm so exhausted all the time, like just existing is exhausting. And I'm not even existing as myself. I'm a shadow of myself just going through the motions and haunting this existence that belongs to me or some version of me that I can't even remember.
We, my sister and I -- and I think our mother as well -- live for these moments when I feel like myself. I've only had one of these moments in the last few weeks. A rather ridiculous moment, actually -- I was standing in the grocery store picking out Roma tomatoes and using all five fingers of one hand to test the tenderness of the tomato and it occured to me -- this is something I do.
How is it that a stupid tomato -- one that I never intend to eat even -- has more power to remind me of who I am than my sister or my nephew? Where is the fairness in that???
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