What's with the Vomit?

I live in a relatively clean part of town. It is also a family area. There are no bars around and no bad restaurants. Why then, is there this profusion of vomit? 4 different spatterings of vomit were seen by me today. All in a one block radius. There was a nice spread of chunky mess near the far corner this morning and it was joined by another just hours later (couldn't take it I guess, some people have that sensitive gag reflex, but no, it wasn't me). When I was driving away this morning I happened to look out my window when waiting at a light and saw another right outside the car (oh, the yellow, oh god, ... bleachk, right out the window). The fourth was by the grocery store. I guess I find that one more believable.

More on the vomit. I am getting sued and I just found out why. I can't provide any pertinent details of it because of all the legalities and such but I will say somethings that are probably true for many things.
I am getting sued because:
1. I failed to get out of the way when the other person ran the light and drove into me.
2. Even though I had just started moving, I was going too fast, even though it was the other person who ran the light, while speeding and hit me.
3. I failed to take into account that the other person was driving a larger truck full of heavy machine parts and the other person would be unable to stop for the light, even though the vehicle in front of the other person did and the other person had to pass them on the inside and step on it just to hit me.

Leap

I am on fire. I am worn out. I don't know what to do about it anymore. I am on edge. I can't have needs. I can't have wants. I can't have expectations based on everyday conversations that mean something then nothing. I have needs. I want them met. I need too much. I am not the be all, end all, best of the freak show that deserves even the time of day. But of course I want more than the time of day. I wish reciprocation. I wish a desire. I wish for the promises put forth and not requested to reappear. I want to feed and be fed. Do I want this because I do or because it isn't there?

My Pants!

Which reminds me, there seems to be some words I say differently than anyone else. Pants being one of them. I remember visiting Toronto in my youth and people commenting on how I had an accent. Then, going to Vancouver and people saying I had an accent. Yet both times I was visiting with people from the same place I was from who did not have said accent. Fine then.

So this weekend I started taking some appetite suppresants and a diuretic. Well, the primary function of the appetite suppresants are not to be appretite suppresants and to be other things, because we all know we don't want to suppress my appetite still, I am taking them though. The diuretic has had a diuretic effect. I am p'ing all the time. I wake up in the morning and think that I am going to burst. I woke up at 6:30 am on Sunday because of this. Yeah. I know. 6:30. I am also very thirsty and drink glass after glass of water, all the better to pee it out I guess. I would want my body to start taking other liquids and diureticing them out of my body (you know like neural fluid or serum). Other than that, I would hate to see what would happen if I wasn't on two different appetite suppressants. I think I would burst from all the over-eating. It is more like a continual graze with 4 larger consumption times that coincide around other people's meal times. I eat breakfast, snack all morning, eat an early lunch, snack all afternoon, eat an early dinner, snack, eat another dinner, snack, and go to bed. I wake up ravenous.

So why am I talking about my pants? Well, I have a large number in my closet that don't currently fit me because of the loss of the 10 - 12 pounds over the last 8 months. They are actually starting to fit again. Over the weekend. My clothes fit! Now maybe I can keep this up and gain the extra 10 pounds I have always wanted. Then I could start running again. But, I can't afford to buy a new wardrobe that would be required for those 10 extra pounds. I hope it isn't all water retention.

On the job front: I was supposed to see a lady about a job at a golf course today, but she didn't show up and I couldn't get there (I don't know my way around yet and my friend was too laden with kids to take me). So, tomorrow I go. Apparently, part of the job I would be getting is to drive around in a golf cart and sell beer to thirsty golfers. I am really looking forward to starting (if I talk to her and she likes me) because it actually sounds like a fun job. Also, it would give me a chance to re-hone my isolation crusted social skills and flirt for money. And when you leave, you leave. You don't have to worry about kids getting home and getting beat up, enough to eat, what you have planned for them the next day, if you could have handled that situation differently, if that person was pushed to far to read that day. But then I think about the years of post-secondary school I went to and what I could be doing instead of and I wonder if this is the appropriate use of me? I am not trying to be classist or anything, as I said, I am looking forward to the job (the actual position, not just the employment). I just have specialized training that could be beneficial to many but the system has a glut of people in my position who maybe aren't as good as me (really into tooting my own horn aren't I) but have made it there and are sticking. The system also keeps pushing out a glut more of people who want the same position I do because education is the only way to secure your future and these people are all around me too. Maybe I'll meet some of them when I am mixing drinks?

Hey!

Are you going to menstruate soon or what?
Why do you ask?
Well, every time you turn on the tap you gag and your boobs just ripped your t-shirt in half.
Oh ... well yeah then.

And the Emotion of the Month is: Anger

Last month, or I should say, Christmas to near the end of January, I was really sad. I didn't really know what I was sad about, but I was just overwhelmingly sad. I sat around feeling overwhelmed by sadness and kind of stupid, because it kept being pointed out to me that I really didn't have that much to be sad about. Hey, shut-up. I can be sad if I feel like being sad. I would rather do that then shove it down inside again.
It seems like the emotion for the next little bit is going to be anger. Every little thing sets me off, and then I go through this whole list of things that I am angry about. I am not angry at people around me, or things that they do, just things I hear about (friend's kid and the racial slurs) or things that happened in the past (stupid boyfriends and gullibility for example). Angry, mad at times, and more angry.
Is it accomplishing anything? I hope so. I find it more productive than the sadness when I would just sit there and have to be told to eat. Now, I can run for miles (except that I don't because I don't need to burn any fat off, thank you very much), re-organize rooms and clean for hours. I am also good for going over to other people's houses and making cakes. Whatever. I am sure if I was more settled where I was I would start baking like a demon and we could all become fat.
This is amusing: Re-titling.
I am on three different things right now and I just looked them all up (actually I am on five and I looked them all up but the others weren't really note-worthy and I just found this a little bit of a coincidence). All of them have a main similar property: to control bleeding. I wonder if my insides are bleeding and need to be controlled? This may have sounded scary but really, what are you going to do if you are bleeding slightly internally? No need for surgery, just control it. I wonder if my blood is coagulating as we speak?
One of the others is an appetite suppresant. Because I need to eat less? Well, it's primary function is an (okay, I'm going to say it) anti-depressant, but the appetite suppresion seems to be a side-effect, which for some people who eat when they are depressed could be great, but for me, not so much. It also relieves SAD symptoms and helps sleep disorders. All this in one!
Okay, so the other three aren't really just to suppress bleeding. One is for my kidney and bladder, which I am having problems with, and should keep me p'ing lots and lots. It also contains a small amount of nicotine, which hopefully will help those cravings I have been having. One other is for my gut and to help it function better. The last is used for prostate enlargment. WHAT?!?! Yeah, and to increase liver function. Don't worry. I am a trained professional and get administered these things by another one. Heh.
I have been trying to find things interesting and amusing today, but am not having much luck. Here are some vulva purses (because everyone needs more reason to fondle vulva's).
My friend has asked me to go swimming with her and her daughter. I think this would be a great idea except for the practicalities, such as, what to wear. It seems I only own two swimming appropriate articles (and I use appropriate very losely). I have one bathing suit that is designed for and by 12 year olds. The other thing I have is a small pair of board shorts and skimpy bikini top that will vacate my chest at the slightest movement of an arm.

Zero Tolerance Policy

I am so angry right now. I am fuming. My friend's little girl came home from school today, again, complaining of the bullying/taunting from a classmate. Okay, it was pretty tame, but it goes on every single day. Then, I find out that recently, although not today, the taunting has become racial in nature and slurs about being brown are coming out, as well as how much prettier/smarter/better white people are. This was not the first time this happened and after the first and much earlier incident, friend and myself told her to go directly to the teacher and tell her about these racial slurs. So, when they started up again, she did. The teacher told her that she needed to handle her own problems. Yes, if someone says you are a bogger-nose once in a while, but if someone taunts you everyday and has started to lay into you about the colour of your skin, then no.
I have a zero tolerance policy on intolerance (hah, I love that).
I told said friend to get her ass into talking to this teacher, and if the teacher wasn't going to try to resolve this issue in her classroom, then take it to the principal of the school, and if they weren't going to try to resolve this issue in the school, then take it to the school board.
I am so angry that if I had heard this before a 6:30 on a Friday night, I would have gone to the school, even though it isn't of my business and isn't my kid and friend is perfectly capable of taking care of it herself (and himself, if dad gets involved) and talked to the teacher and principal. I would have even talked to the kid Oh, and that kid's parent. Yep.
I told my friend to tell that teacher that if these things didn't stop, that she would stop preaching the non-violent approach to conflict resolution to her daughter and start telling her to beat the crap out of the other kid. My friend's kid is a fairly big for her age kid (in the tall way, not the round way) and is pretty physically fit. I am sure with a few pointers from her father or uncle she could kick some ass too. Or I could go and kick that kid's ass, or the parent's ass.
F.

Walking the Dog

I understand how intimidating my dog can be, being the size of a real dog instead of a loaf of bread or a bun. I try to keep this is mind while walking the dog, so that people are not unduly frightened and intimidated. It doesn't help that she has a head harness, which many people mistake for some kind of muzzle but is actually a device so she doesn't rip my arm out of my socket (she is a pulling breed, like my dog would seen dead actually doing something like that, and I don't blame her). This is not because she really pulls, but because I have a weak shoulder, due to the seatbelt in my car accident (if I keep blaming everything on the car accident I don't have to take any blame for poor health on myself).
My dog walks well on the leash. She walks on my left side and will heel if I tell her to. When I walk her, I walk on the left side of the sidewalk, and she walks beside me on the grass beside the path. What I do not understand is why people try to pass me on my left side instead of going by on the open sidewalk on the right side of me. I mean, sure, it is 3/4 open with no one walking on it but walking on the grass and people's lawns looks like a more certain path. And sure, even though I have walked on that side for the whole block I may swerve and erratically go to the right side of the block.
Another reason I walk her like this is to keep between her and people. She is a very friendly dog, but they don't know that. People are frightened of her and people with children (and she particularly loves children) grab them and whisk them up over there heads to avoid the dog. When I walk I understand that people don't generally want to be approached by my dog and I worry about the reaction from people who don't want to be approached but do. I want to keep her unkicked. This makes is harder for me to understand why they pass me on the left side and get between me and the dog. Do they think the leash is an optical illusion? And then they get annoyed. Hello? You just walked directly into the only crowded space on the sidewalk between the only two other beings there that have a rope-like device connecting them. Maybe, you should have stayed on my right side.

Oh and

I have mentioned my dog is a freak sometimes before, right? Yesterday (did I mention I was eating a piece of chocolate cake as I write this? A piece from the cake that appeared in the fridge one night from the Cake Fairy? Doesn't anyone else eat cake in this house? Am I going to have to eat the whole rest of the thing myself? I mean, I'll do it if I have to, I'm just saying is all.) my dog and I came home, from the hospital, and she right away realized my roommate was home. She ran up the stairs and up the stairs again to see her. I could hear her running around and around, very excited. I thought that my roommate would stop her. Apparently she was trying but my dog was wired. Then she ran down to the middle floor and ate about half of her leftover breakfast that I had neglected to put away. Then she ran back upstairs to run around and around my roommate some more. She did this in the time it took me to take off my boots and coat, and hang my coat up. She then ran back downstairs to me and leaped up the stairs beside me. When we got to the middle floor, she puked. Yep, all over the nice beige carpet. Nice. All the dogfood plus the bile. I told her to lay on the floor and then I went down stairs to get the puke cleaning supplies. I returned to find her eating the puke (I don't know, because it was so tasty coming up?). I have scrubbed those spots with two different kinds of stain removers and have not yet completely removed the stain. The carpet is less than 7 months old. My roommate hasn't said anything yet, but I can see it. One day I will come home and the locks will be changed.
Tonight I told a friend I would bring him over some soup. I even gave him a choose because I had two different kinds of homemade soup in the fridge: carrot/ginger/chicken and borscht (which actually turned out quite good). He choose the carrot/ginger/chicken. When I got home I realized that there really wasn't enough of that kind of soup to bring him so I ate it myself for supper as well as two pieces of chocolate cake. Then I thought about LYING to him about it, saying my roommate had taken it for lunch. But I can't lie. I cannot. I look like I'm lying and act like I'm lying and people know. Besides, what if him and my roommate got to talking about it one day and then it comes out I'm a liar. I couldn't live with that either. So then I thought maybe I'll make more, but what the hell? I don't want to eat any more of it myself this week. I guess he gets borscht, but I feel badly I gave him the choose and then took the choice away.
Today, while at the hospital, a woman told me I had nice legs, but not really. She said, "I like your socks. You have to have nice legs to be able to wear socks like that." She didn't directly say I have nice legs, but it was implied. No, she wasn't hitting on me. She worked in the gift shop. And yes, they are very nice socks. My favourite in fact. 3 different colours of green striped with cream and above the knee. I love above the knee socks. Did I mention I once spent around $150 on socks and sock accessories? That was back when I had a job and frivality and such. Now, I must survive on the 80 pairs of socks I currently own, no matter how many other cute ones make their appearance known to me.

Another day at the Hospital

And another piece of pie for $1.87.

How to Cook

Making Traditional Borscht:

Needs 1 cup tomato puree, used leftover pizza sauce.
Calls for apple cider vinegar, used pickle juice.
Calls for honey, used pancake syrup.
Needs carraway seed, used cumin.

Tasty? Well, let's just say ... interesting.

THE Time Off

You know, at first, I really enjoyed being unemployed. I had a break, time to get some things done that I had meant to and hadn't been able to, see some people I hadn't seen in years, spend some time with close friends. Also, I wasn't poor yet and thinking that I should get all the stuff done that I wanted to because I was going to be starting work any day now.
Then, it started to last a bit longer than I expected it would. I started spending more time looking for jobs and applying for jobs and thinking about jobs. I had to start watching my finances because I hadn't really planned to be unemployed for this long so I couldn't really do so many things with those friends I hadn't seen for a while.
The situation hit critical soon after that and I became a bevy of activity, talking to everyone I knew about possible jobs, applying to any job anywhere in the province, reasoning that the main reason I quit my last job, that I was lonely, didn't matter with the prospect of losing my financial independence. I had to do something fast or I was going to have to move back to my mother's home. I stopped seeing friends so much because I didn't want to talk about my lack of employment, lack of finances, lack of ability to find a job, and what I had been doing to find one. The conversations were boring and depressing.
Now I am completely broke. I have never had to live on just debt before, even when I was in school. I am applying for jobs all over the country, even though I know I want to stay in this part and I am of the age where I am pretty much making decisions as to where I am going to live for the rest of my life by taking this next job. It's scaring me.
I am really disappointed in the educational/socio-economic/whatever the hell has put me in this situation. I am not a bad worker. I have excellent references and am pretty good at what I do. I have 7 years of post-secondary education which is great for the jobs I am looking for but is disqualifying me for any other more menial jobs that I could take because obviously I wouldn't stay, not with that kind of education. It is here that my good references aren't great either, being so emphatic with my qualities impressing upon that I am a "go-getter" and such, who would hire someone who is better educated than them, a "go-getter", in a menial job where they would either quickly leave or quickly replace them?
I am re-thinking the decisions that got me here. I could be in fourth year medical school right now. I didn't choose that option for many reasons, but right now, I am thinking at least I would have a job when I was finished. I could be designing rockets right now. These are both things I turned down to do this teaching thing. Oh the wonder. Oh the joy.

Christmas

This morning I woke up and it was like Christmas. I looked in the fridge and there was a big chocolate cake, minus one piece. A HUGE CHOCOLATE CAKE! I just about cut myself a piece to eat right there, but remembering the stomach incident I had a few days ago, I decided to wait a bit. I was so happy that the cake fairy or Santa Claus had paid our house a visit. They were even kind enough to take one piece so I knew I could have some. If the cake had been unbroken there would have been no way I could have been the first one to dig into such a treat. They must have known and took that one piece so I could start eating it.
Then, I saw a friend, who remarked, "Did you gain some weight or something? You have an ass!" I said I didn't really think I had gained any weight, but I might have, but I had been doing alot of exercise as of late and maybe that had something to do with the re-appearance of my ass. What could be better than chocolate cake and getting an ass?
Oh, I know. I got the best shirt in the world ever on Saturday. I was looking for a nice shirt to go with the nice black skirt I have so that I would have a nice outfit to wear out. I did not hope for the perfect shirt to make a really sexy outfit that will make men swoon at my feet. Oh, and gettting the ass only helps this outfit along. As soon as I got it I wanted to go out, but then I rationalized that if I left then I wouldn't be getting back home until 3 or 4 am and then I would have to shower and it would take me at least a week to recover from the sins I would do so I decided to stay home and do nothing instead. Not nothing, I tried on the complete outfit and it was indeed very dear.
What else could be better than all this? You could buy a piece of pie at the hospital cafeteria for $1.87 and I did.

Tired

I am so tired today.
Frantic get up and go to get somewhere which was actually no where and to sit there and wait for something to happen and when something did it was terrifying.
"Oh, look! Finally the heart rate is dropping ... 140 ... 120 ... 60 ...50!" and at the door I was, not breathing.
Too many things are on my shoulders today.
I will make soup.

Crazy

I have a friend who is crazy. Knowing what I know now, I don’t think I would readily make friends with someone with a mental illness. It is too hard on your heart. I met her at a time when she appeared sane and she was beautiful. It is hard to remember her then. She is distraught even when she isn’t going through anything. Every time she goes through a break-down, it is completely different than it was before: one is sad, one is frantic, one is mournful, one is bizarre. She is easier to remember like this. Every time she has one and comes through she vows it is the last one, the crazy is all out of her now.
She tries to hide when she knows she is losing herself. She doesn’t like it for us to see her falling and when she gets there, she can’t function enough to bring anyone in. I have seen her falling several times. It is always brought about by some event, as far as I can see. Too much time alone, an intense drawn out fight with a member of her family, death. She starts to spend time more and more time alone It usually starts on the weekend, when she doesn’t have a schedule or have to go into work. I have seen her right before she crashed when she was cleaning the house. She was a whirlwind, she couldn’t slow down. She obsessively cleaned every little thing. Then she collapsed and wouldn’t eat for days.
When she is rational, she explains to us how she does not want to get into the mental health system here because she has no faith in it. She’s tried it before and fallen through the cracks. She says that is what saved her and kept her alive this long. We all care for her when she is broken and talk about it amongst ourselves, knowing that there is a point where we will have to bring her in somewhere and knowing she’ll be gone after that.
She called me this weekend and said that she needed help. It scared me because she never asks for help. I went over and found her shaking. She told me that she was so sure that the last time was going to be her last crazy. She asked me how many types of crazy she has, and when will she meet them all. She was holding her thumb in her palm and her hand was crusted with blood. She yelled at me to take my dog away and then she stopped talking to me. She walked around the house from window to window, looking outside. Her eyes were open so wide that the iris was surrounded by the white of her eye. She usually is so still when like this and I didn’t know how to deal with her movement. I watched her and wondered if this was the time we were going to have to say good-bye to her.

Two dreams

After not having dreams for a long time, I have two in the last two nights. Both had my ex in them.
This morning I made Solyanka (with 3 kinds of potatoes) to take to my friend whose baby is in the hospital. I wonder what happens to those babies whose mothers can't stay with them while they are there? I know they don't have enough nurses to provide substantive care for each of those babies.
My roommates boyfriend put a lot of songs on her computer. I transferred them to my part and spent the last couple of days looking through the crap. From around 1900 songs I have around 250 left. He may just have the worst taste in music. I mean, does anybody need the Transformer theme song, twice? And BAD 80's music (think "I think we're alone now" Tiffany). I will allow him all the bhangra stuff, but I erased it. And how many rap/hip-hop songs start with "uh-huh, ... yeah? All of them? How original. None of the music I like was on there anywhere, but that is okay. I can play around with these mostly tolerable songs. It's a change. Since September the only music I have been listening to is the CD's I have of Carlo, my friend who killed himself. I guess I am ready to let go of some of that.
I had a date last night. Went out for dinner and spoke of the possibilities of star trek-like transportation where I again prove myself to be a geek by talking about molecules and memory. I am too old for this shit.

I never dreamed

Yesterday I went to see the person I have placed my trust in to help me fix my body and mind. Last time I went the things that came out almost killed me. I seem to say that a lot but I went into a depression that prevented me from breathing. I am lucky I have such good friends who make me eat and shower and watch out for me. I felt amazing after the depression lifted though, and my constant threat of losing my grip on reality seemed to dissipate, I am hopeful and feel like for good. I need to deal with this stuff in my past and I am ready for it. I am not saying that the stuff I went through is more horrific than anything anyone else has gone through, it just is my stuff and it affected me in my way.
Now, I am heading into the next batch of painful memories and misplaced trust. I wonder what the next few weeks will bring? I am already starting to feel the return of the continuos fear that used to house in my chest and the terror of people.

And a HAPPY GOOD MORNING TO ME!

Plagued by stomach issues for as long as I can remember, I have perpetual morning sickness. No baby though. I have had it since I was about 17 or 18. I combat it by eating plain oatmeal in the morning, which only makes me a little ill.
Today, I had an appointment. I took my morning supplements after eating about 3 bites of porridge then I just couldn't make myself eat it in the time before I had to leave so I threw it out. I went and filled my water bottle when I started to feel ... uneasy. I went to the garbage and looked in it, wishing I hadn't thrown out the porridge and wondering if I should try and salvage some to eat. Deciding against that, I walked down the stairs to my room and by the time I was in there I was in agony. I rolled on the floor for about 5 minutes, which felt like an eternity, while screaming, "OH GOD OH MY FUCK OH AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH HELP ME," which none of the neighbours came to investigate thank god, and while writhing on the floor, before I could straighten myself out enough to go to the bathroom and make myself throw up. It was so acidic and so fiery hot that it burnt my lips.
And that, my friends, is why I eat oatmeal everyday for breakfast.

Flies

Again I have been a little busy and there has been a little something happening in my life. Nothing major, a little blip on the radar screen that has made me a bit introspective I guess. It didn't help that my at home internet was down for some reason. Anyway, I am back and with nothing to say. I was going to rant about mental health, specifically mine, but since I am experiencing a good patch, I don't want to get into it.
My guts are good as of late. My course is going nowhere. My job search, well, I sI apply to about 2 jobs a day and haven't heard back from anyone yet which is really starting to piss me off because I am that good. Last year, while trying to find a replacement for myself I looked through about a hundred resume packages and crap (because for teaching jobs, they send a lot of crap because most places ask for a lot of crap, I think the smallest application package I sent out was 15 pages long) and I know mine looks good, sounds good, and hey, if you ever met me in person or on the phone, you would instantly be won over. I wonder what these people are looking for. I can't apply for any job in the meantime either, because I am overqualified for anything and they wouldn't hire me, knowing I would leave. Not that I'm bitter or anything. No, I loved all 7 years of my post-secondary education and the money it cost was easy to part with. I did it so I could sit here unemployed now. That was the goal alright.
I also was part of the interview panel for 18 applicants. I sat through 18 hours of oh. my. god. a lot of bull. I must say, I think I was the only one who was looking for someone with some practical experience too. Theory just isn't good enough. I have tonnes of theory but I never have enough time to apply hardly any of it and unless you know how you are going to apply it, don't even bother telling me about it.
So, do I head back to the middle of nowhere and let my life pass me by while experiencing the pristine beauty of out of the way places? I don't know. They aren't calling me either.

V-Day

Always makes me think of veneral disease. Feels like one. Like a festering sore oozing hallmark sentiments like pus with red hearts flowing and stickily crusting down the legs of everyone flying around to prove their commercial empty-headed scared to be alone and find out who you really are love. And what about those pesticide laden flowers? How many workers in South America lived a shortened life span, ridiculed with cancers, children watching them die so they could have some food to eat and you could get your $200 roses to prove how much you care?
I was speaking with a friend last night who remembers coming to my house for a party, I must have been 14, 15 or 16, and everything was pink and/or covered in red hearts. Even the toilet paper. Must have been to wipe away all the red hearts coming out of our asses. Oh how colourful my life was then.
Happy b-day to me.

30 Things to do between the time I am 29 and 12 months and 29 and 24 months (to be updated).
1. Get rid of at least 50% of my crap.
2. Get a calendar and write down everyone's birthdays on it and remember to contact them on those days.
3. Do the splits.
4. Scuba diving.
5. Get a pedicure (and you all now how I feel about getting my feet touched).
6. Get laser hair removal (oh how I hate shaving).
7. Swim in a warm ocean again.
8. Not die during a heroin overdose whilst bungee jumping.
9. Paint my bedroom using milk paint.
10. Have an orange bathroom.
11. Help my grandmother move into a retirement apartment.
12. Train my dog and myself to have her come when called when off the leash.
13. Learn a few chords on the guitar.
14. Become fluent in Spanish.
15. Learn to purl.
16. Get my Kinesionics certificate.
17. Live in a tent for a summer.
18. Grow my hair past my shoulder blades.
19. Gain 10 pounds.
20. Be able to consistently do a handstand.
21. Um, I need 30, suggestions please (but I am so much closer)!

Weird Medical Condition #4

I am pretty sure I have written about weird medical conditions 1, 2, and 3 so let's move on, shall we?
I am currently experiencing numbness and lack of heating capabilities in my right arm and leg. Body is fine. Left side is fine. Not so good on the right hand extremities. If I was older I would think I would have had a stroke or something that partially blocked one of my major arteries or aortas or whatever way they flow and whatever they are called. Also, various areas feel swollen and stiff at times, but do not look it. Like my right knee or my right palm where the thumb meets it. Lucky for me, my doctor is far far away and I cannot bother him with such trivialities. I don't listen to anything he says anyway, being immensely more intelligent than him by NOT buying into the whole med school crap and NOT going through it myself. I respect him though, in some ways. When I need to medical attention, for my lawsuit and accident claims or just because I can't do anything else, he seems to be a good guy. I am sure he feels awful about the time when I had an appointment that a nurse made me take because she was sure my innards were trying to escape and we spent the whole time talking about that even though we both knew nothing was happening and I tried to show him my flesh-eating disease and he said, "Maybe we could make another appointment for that" knowing that he wasn't coming back for at least 3 weeks. I tried to make it those 3 weeks, but I think I only made it 1.5 before they flew me out because I was so disgusting as well as dying. I mean, who wants someone whose flesh is being eaten away next to them at the lunch table?
While I am at it, why don't I go right into Weird Medical Condition #5? I know it happened long ago and hasn't happened since, but still, it shows you the level my body goes to. Many years ago I decided to be a complete vegan who made everything I wanted to eat (like flour then into bread and so forth, whoa, what a lot of work that was and holy cow was it ever not worth it in the long run). At this time, I was eating a lot of wheat (you know, with the flour grinding and all). I actually felt pretty good. I think this is a healthy way to be, in moderation or something. Then, my armpits started to bleed. Not from cuts or anything. Blood was oozing out from the pores. Holy crap was it ever painful too. It started on a Friday night so I didn't go to the doctor or anything, I thought I'd phone on Monday and probably get in there sometime in the next week or two. Luckily, my friendly northern region kinesionic practioner just happened to stop at our house to visit us and told me I had done that to myself by eating too much wheat and I had given myself a wheat allergy and my armpits would stop bleeding as soon as I cut out all wheat and gluten from my diet. It worked and my armpits have not bled again. I often give myself food allergies or sensitivities because I have IBS (that is what the doctor says anyway, that I have IBS, not about the food allergies and sensitivities part because they would way rather stick scopes up your ass than admit you may have food sensitivities and allergies). The doctors, if they ever even admit that maybe the food you could be eating is irritating your intestinal tract, they give you pills that make the food go through your intestinal tract faster, so it can cause less irritation. You also get less nutrition. Forget about finding out which foods are irritating! That is too hard, or doesn't involve scopes going up your ass or something.

Drove all day

I never want to drive again. I hate driving. I had to get up before it was light out so I could leave at the brink of light so I could get here before it was dark because I have determined I have night blindness and I don't want to kill people. I am tired and cranky and my dog is bored. I also brought a box of children's books with me instead of a box of food. Whose evil world is this? Can I eat books? Do I have money for food? What the hell.

Nex's

Today I saw my ex in the first truly civil interaction we have had since before the split (hence, the split I guess). We took our dogs for a walk and I bought him a coffee.
We had great conversation ranging from our feelings about suicide and depression to the number of rods and cones in our eyes. I told him that I meant it when I said to him that I missed talking to him.
We talked a very little about our heyday and decided that time was good. I will remember that at one time we were very much in love and it was great. Hopefully all the anger will be forgotten and I will just remember us as a thing that didn't work in practice, only in theory. Hopefully he will too.
We are both at, what we consider to be in some ways, a bad time in our lives and are both looking at moving back in with our mother's. Both 30. How nice for us both. Oh yeah, I am not quite 30, as my mother likes to point out. Very soon though, just about can count the days on one hand.

Actual Conversation

with my mom:

Me: "Does that women with the wig still live down the street?"
Mom: "Margaret, yeah. She was walking by yesterday when we came home."
Me: "Oh, I must have still been asleep."
Mom: "No, not that yesterday. A different yesterday."
Me: "Uh, ..."

Pop!

Yesterday I popped a blood vessel in my right eye (I know it's my right eye because it is on the same side as the hand that I write with). It isn't that bad. I've had worse where people can't stand to look at my eye because it is so red and bloody. This isn't that noticeable. I have no idea how I did it. My ex suggested it was because I cried so hard at the funeral but I didn't. My mother was there and I do not cry in front of my parents.
We went to the funeral yesterday. It snowed and was foggy both on the way there and back. The trip took 2.75 hours, and that isn't too much longer than it normally takes. Apparently I slept for about 2 hours on the way there and 2 hours on the way back. My mom says I am boring to travel with. The funeral service was long but it was okay. It was not too religious, although at the beginning it really was. Religion is not comforting to me and I sat there trying to tie the choices in hymns and prayers to this death, but I couldn't see any connection.
I managed to get a hold of my ex and I was able to leave my dog with him all day while I was gone. I felt good about that. At least our dogs can still be friends and he told met that my dog had a really good day. She got to play with her 'sister' and play and play and run around outside. Apparently she tried to put on a tough act with her for a while, then just gave up and played like a puppy.
I had another harsh sleep in the basement. I cannot live in here. I think I would die. I can't sleep for not being able to breath. The air quality in this town is very poor, which makes everything worse. This house is dusty, which always makes it hard for me to breath. And my poor cats. I can't be allergic to them. I can't stand it if I am. Itchy eyes, plugged up sinuses, poor sleeping. Poor me and poor cats. My mom is already trying to give away my cats, which I think is a little premature. Maybe I should be around cats in a place that isn't dusty and have such poor air quality before I do that.
I have been having dreams since I have been here. Prior to the rape dreama and after, I have not been having dreams. Last night I had a lovely dream about buying books for my university classes and scuba diving. I think I am ready to dive again, as I am not afraid of death. I have my advanced diving ticket and I think that I was the only one in my diving class that hated diving. The first dive I did, I started freaking out when I thought about how many tonnes of water were above my head and how I was relying on a man-made device to breath. The instructor had to grab me and control me while I had what would I guess be a panic attack. I managed to finish the dive after surfacing and being yelled at and thrown against some rocks. I also lost my ring when my hand got stuck on a rock. That night I couldn't sleep. Everytime I tried I would think I was underwater and losing consciousness because I didn't have any oxygen. I managed to finish the course. For the advanced part of the course, you had several options you could choose. My friend and I decided to choose a night dive option as well some other ones. We had heard that because you use flashlights you could see the vivid colours of the fish and corals much better. So down we went. And it was exactly like I thought death would be. Oh my god. 4 people from our group got lost so the instructor and dive masters had to go after them, leaving the rest of our group at a place on the floor. I commenced to freak the hell out and hyperventilate. The only thing that stopped me from going into a complete panic attack was that I was holding onto my friend's leg and shining my flashlight at the sea urchins on the ground, which gave me some kind of grounding. When the other members of our group returned, the instructor noticed, of course, that I was freaked the hell out and not very much in control of myself. He gave me a task to do, with my friend, so I could focus on something else. One of the lost and now found members of our group managed to kick my flipper off and I was unable to swim. I then got escorted back to the ship by a very handsome dive master. I shone my flashlight at the ground for as long as I could see it. Little fish came and nibbled on me. I started to freak out when I couldn't see anything anymore and was just floating in nothing (not really, the dive master had a firm grip on me and was taking me upward). I was very relieved to see the bottom of that boat. I haven't dived since but I think it is time that I started to look into again.

Cost of Living

So my car is f*ed. It isn't one thing that is broken, it is two. Both potentially lethal. Greeeeaaaaat. I need that because I have so much money sitting around. I cannot return until I get them fixed and the mechanic wouldn't even let me leave with the car because he can be held liable. So I am here until Wednesday at the earliest. What to do, what to do.
Tomorrow is the funeral. It doesn't look like we can go because it is snowing and the road will be BAD. I feel badly about that. I hope that we can, but I don't know what to do with my dog for the day. I have emailed and asked my ex to dog-sit, but he does not email me or contact me back. I think he hates me. Hahahaha! That is a funny funny thought to me for some reason.
This whole trip, well, let's just say better things have happened. Maybe this is why I don't do a lot of travelling to funerals. I did get to see my cats and spend some time with them, and will get to spend more. But, my allergies have come back. When I was up north I had allergies the whole time. Down south, I was pretty good. Coming back midway and sleeping in the same room with my cats I have found that they are the worst they have been in a long long time. I wonder if I am allergic to my cats? That would be tragic. I don't think I could live with that.

Bright and Early

Sometime, at some ungodly early hour this morning, the alarm beside the bed went off. I know it was early because it was dark out still and I couldn't hear anyone awake or moving around upstairs. I groped around and grabbed it. I pushed buttons on it until it stopped. And then I put it down.
Some white noise started, supposed to be like waves I think, and so I picked it up again. I pushed buttons, flicked switches, turned dials, but it would stop. I shoved it under the pillow, but I could still hear it. Finally I managed to open the battery compartment and rip out the batteries. I then flung it away from me.
Of course I fell back asleep and had a boring unremembered dream. I ended up getting up at 7:20, so that is how I know that the stupid alarm clock was set so very early.
In other news, the car needs some part. In fact, because one broke, it needs two. If I don't get the part, my new tires have a good chance to get slashed up and I may die in an accident. It is broken in a precarious way. And with that, I have no money to pay for the parts or pay for the service. My mother will pay and say it is a birthday gift, but I feel really stupid about this. I should be able to pay for these things myself, especially by this time in my life. I could fix it and then sell the car, then I could pay it myself, but be trapped up here.

Men

Men do not trust that I am real.
Men do not believe me.
Men use me. In their bedrooms, on their arms, for their ego.
Men know. They have been there before and they know that they should not go there. They are happy with the mediocrity they have produced and do not want to risk change.
Men realize that they cannot and they run from me.
Men find me unacceptable.
Men do not love me.

Boys

Most boys who love me have never known love like they feel right then.
Most boys who love me lose themselves in it.
Most boys who love me feel the need to express their love to me and write books or poems, paint murals or bodies, or create music trying to express it and capture it.
Most boys who love me cannot handle it.
Most boys who love me find out too much about themselves.
Most boys who love me push me away and run and hide.
Most boys who love me find me unacceptable.
Most boys who love me never speak to me again.

Once a Love

Once upon a time I loved and was loved so completely and intensely. I had never known anything like it. We were each others night and day and breathed each other's air. The only way we could sleep was wrapped up completely around each other.

I never thought it would change. I thought I could do anything and he would be there for me.

But, upon returning to the real world, I continued to think this way and he did change. He left me and I was broken. I couldn't believe it, that he would just let go like that, and so, when he returned, I thought he was returning to sanity and me, not escaping other routes. And so he left me again, and again returned when things were not going his way. Again, I believed he was returning to our sanity, our sanctuary and a muted bliss had been re-boughten. I did not realize what he had done in the meantime. He then asked me to do something for him one day, such a little thing, that I did it, and was opened up to my new reality. One of nothing. One of lies. He procliamed he had never loved me and never would, since he knew the love of someone else. Someone who would not talk to him or touch him or admit his existence. I could not believe he would choose a life being a shadow instead our love. I went to the window to jump.

Knowing his infatuation would never be realized, he kept toying with my emotions and reeling me in and out. Finally, after one time, I told him it was the last time, and I would not go back to him anymore. He said that he understood and that is how it should be anyway.

A little while later I met somebody else who was so much more like me and I started to let myself fall in love with him. When it was apparent I was not to be reeled in anymore, he became distraught. He tried to be who he was when we were night and day. He gave up all thoughts of the infatuation and admitted the love we had was the only love he had ever known and he would do anything to bring it back. At times, he found himself at the window. But I was too far gone. I did not easily forget all the pain and anguish he had brought me. I tried to help him through this and by doing so I poisoned my new love. He swore eternal devotion to me but his devotion only lasted until he got a new prize, one that fit more smoothly into his life.

I know this love. I know it was complete. I know it is out there now. I do not know how to find it again.

Night-time Bliss

The other night I had a fantastically graphic and brutal dream where a friend raped me. Images of this dream stuck with me all day and upset me enough that my whole day was thrown off. I know this friend would never and could never actually do this to me (otherwise, why would he be a friend) but I was still upset more by talking to him later on. It brought back the images and the situation again.
This friend has put me through some upheaval lately, but I don't think it could be considered equivalent. I do respect his decisions and ability to know what was best for him, but his decisions did have consequences for me, some of which I am sure I do know the extent of. I know it has effected me deeply, especially since it touched my newly forming trust of the human race. Maybe, as was suggested to me, my subconscious was trying to show me the extent to which he had effected my mind in pictures that I would understand.
In no way am I trying to compare my dream or my ‘mind-fuck’ with the experiences of an actual rape. I have been there and I know it is not the same, but maybe since I have been there my mind is drawing on situations that I know to try to show me what is happening in my life right now.