Random posts from a writer who loves cats and coffee. An American Democratic woman with chronic illness (respiratory) who lives to read, write, and binge watch Netflix or Amazon Video. Married to a hot foodie who plays lots of video games. I'm not just a broken human, I'm also uniquely maladjusted but fun!
Because only anger makes the tears stop.
Why is this the third person to question me on this?
"Hi, want to come to a free party and have free food and do stuff that's free and not pay a penny because it's free?"
"Could it, instead, cost money and time and be somewhere else and maybe could you not be there?"
That's this conversation.
I'm so done.
Why do people suck so much?
I'm an evil, selfish bitch who mostly just thinks about her own survival.
I shouldn't have come home.
I shouldn't have looked at Facebook (which no longer works on my phone, btw, so computer only).
I shouldn't have read the message.
And maybe I shouldn't have flipped out at the answer.
But whatever.
I don't care anymore.
Kick me out. It'd be a favor at this point.
I'm done with getting attacked. I already feel inferior to my former self because of this breathing disorder. I don't need it pointed out. I don't need it shoved in my face.
And, for once, I wasn't even inconveniencing anyone! I'm paying hundreds of dollars TO AVOID inconveniencing these people. I just said I needed one more week.
Fuck.
Just.
Fuck.
Do people even care when they're being hurtful?
"So, this paraplegic thing... Could you just walk for one day, like, up the steps of the Philly Art Museum? I mean, your limbs, if you suck it up, you could walk, right?"
That's what it feels like the conversation was. Except it's my lungs instead of limbs, and breathing instead of walking.
It's mean.
It's hurtful.
And it's worth none of these tears.
I don't think I can Facebook for a while. I just can't take it anymore. There's a level of cruel and it's just been passed by someone who was once a friend and family.
I'm just done right now. I don't have the strength for this fight. I'm upset and I'm done.
These dried flowers now hang above my desk, reminding me of my loving friends. This makes me happy.
Imagine if you came home and found a naked man, a stranger, had broken into your home and was rubbing his body, especially his feet, all over your stuff. Particularly, his unwashed feet touched as much of your food as he could find. And he wants to touch you, too. He'd get anywhere he could reach. (Assume he's revolting.) Then he starts taking some of your food, and calls all of his friends to help him rob you.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
And that's why I hate ants.
Check out @niicki's Tweet: https://twitter.com/niicki/status/735768057402908672?s=09
Where am I going?
That was once so clear.
I knew, back when I was 17 and graduating high school/ a Freshman in college, exactly where I was going and what I needed to do to get there.
Except I didn't, really. I had some big ideas. But at least I had ideas and drive. And certainty! If you had asked me what I'd do if the plans didn't work out, I'd have looked at you like you were unintelligent and replied, with careful enunciation, that I'd figure it out.
I always had, you see. So much had been tossed at me by then that I felt prepared for anything.
So the world tested me. It threw more. A lot more. All at once. It took chunks of my body, mind, soul, spirit, sexuality, bravery, strength, health... everything.
I dealt with it the best way I could. I made new plans to keep up.
Then it hit harder. So I fought harder.
Then the most awful thing that can ever happen, happened. My light went out with that blow.
No more sun in the sky.
I live by a match. And it frequently burns out. So I search for another match, and something to strike it upon. I dare not light a torch or a camp fire, for surely the signal would be easy to spot in the darkness, and I'd be crushed again.
Except the match is not enough to live by.
And this metaphor is over done.
I had goals I'd accomplish before I turned 35.
A nice list. A long list. A doable list.
I did one.
Well, one that lasted.
There are some that cannot just be moved to "by the time I'm 40."
I could picture my future before. Now I can't.
I can't even imagine what my life will be like in a month from now.
Right at this moment, I don't even have certainty of my life in two weeks from now.
Not my address, nor the well being of my family, or my financial place, or even what my health condition will be by then.
I really don't know where I'm going. I'm not even sure where I am.
Do I at least know what I might like to happen?
1- Sell a certain property to 2 close people.
1a. Be assured of their safety and well being as best as I can be.
1b. Have the necessary funds to relocate my husband and myself and aquire new furniture (so as to prevent the migration of mold as much as possible) and have proper cooling so as to facilitate my survival.
2- Get better.
2a. More than just stable.
2b. Not just "not worse."
2c. At least have some moments of less pain.
2c-1. LESS pain, not just days where it isn't worse, but days where it isn't as bad. Days at a 4 on the pain scale. Not my normal 7.
I want to add writing goals. I feel obligated to add wedding related goals, as a Matron of Honor. Friendship goals? Cooking, cleaning, household goals? Maybe weight loss or strength increase goals? Motherhood goals? Aunt goals? Reading goals?
I don't know. The stretch of the first two seems so out of reach. I should endeavor to find Atlantis, as the odds are more in my favor.
Do I dare set a goal just to have hope?
Goal: Have Hope.
Ahh, but hope leads me to trouble. It pulls at that inner girl I once was, the one who believed, the one who the world had not broken yet. The one who would have found a way to light a fire as bright as the sun. Or something. I don't know.
That 17 year old me would be pleased with the husband and friends.
But she'd find a way to overhaul the rest of this, because it'd sicken her to look at this life.
There must be a way to fix this. There must be a path I could take to get back on track.
Maybe if I knew the track, that'd help.
I play Civilization V more often, and usually on an easier level. Why? So I can win. I'm not there for the challenge. I just need a win. A small victory. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things. It's a game. But sometimes, surrounded by so much failure, I just need to do something right. It's not so much a fear of failure- that'd be silly, at this point, because it happens all the damn time- but a desperate need to win. To recall what it feels like so I can go on to something else and hope for the same elation.
Is it reasonable to expect my two current goals before I turn 40? I don't know.
Should I aim lower? I don't see how I can.
How about one? The first.
Yes. Just the first set. 1, 1a, 1b.
Though I am, with my whole heart and mind, convinced that moving from this place will lead to the second.
But I shall move but once more, by choice, in this life. If I move again after that, be assured it is because the ocean is about to consume the state, or aliens have abducted us all, or the new overlords have commanded it after conquering the nation. This is how passionately I hate moving. "Why don't you just move," is the equivalent of "why don't you just cut out some of your own organs and Frankenstein yourself back together?" It might not all fit, you might not find some of it, the infection from that could be worse than what was wrong... No. Once more, and that is it.
Ideally, I'd move in a cool October. I'd like to be party to the moving, not just cowering in the cool air.
Not that I can look at houses in the summer. Who would pay to cool it?
So shopping in the autumn, moving in the winter. But before Thanksgiving. Certainly before Dec 31, when the lease expires.
I said that last year.
And the year before that.
And the one before that, as well.
And I'm done now.
Is it depression? The thing is, as I understand it, depression is the result of chemicals being off balance. I don't know that I can attribute my feelings to that. Would I be happier if I were in my new home, and my 2 people were in their home and no longer suffering the imminent danger they face now? Yes. I've wanted that since... Honestly, since I was 13. Really, when I think on it, I worked toward that goal since then. Originally my plan was to make enough money by the time I was 23 to afford both.
I could have sold the property shortly after I got it. The bank would have been obligated to buy it. But that didn't meet my goal of getting a home for my 2 people, pulling them out of the situation they landed themselves in. (So I'm helping them land in $167,000 of debt, when one is in poor health and the other is about to turn 62. They'll have their dream, but get the cost of a nightmare. Shit. Nope, not thinking on that.)
How can I make the best of today?
Reading and writing for a bit.
How can I make the best of the next 7 days?
I don't know. Next week holds challenges that I've yet to figure out how to face.
Goal:
To believe that one day it'll be okay again. That I'll be able to be happy without sounding like a loon. (Because, I'm sorry, but it's pretty damn bad right now, so anyone who's happy in the face of a health crisis, financial ruin, family dilemmas, and safety concerns probably just doesn't understand what's going on.)
Definition of precipice: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/precipice at Dictionary.com
I so rarely have occasion to use this word. But here I am, on the precipice of change.
The morning will bring a decision that will either spiral my entire life drastically down hill, or nothing will change at all.
That's it.
One or the other is coming.
And there's nothing I can do about it.
No influence over my own life. No choice or action I can reasonably take to influence the decision.
Driving tonight, I saw the moon hanging low in the southern sky looking especially rust-colored.
I managed to get a decent pic with my phone.
Yes, the moon, not Mars.
Though, I did open my skymap app and found Mars and Saturn in the sky. Two little dots.
Overheard:
Man to pre-school age boy:
"What you want and what's reality aren't the same thing. Now let me get the check so we don't get arrested."
1- #dreamkiller Reality isn't going to the moon, but we've done that. So maybe stop crushing dreams of the young.
2- Given the high percentage of children with a close relative in a legal battle, maybe arrested shouldn't be seen as the worst thing possible. Innocent until proven arrested? No.
Obviously teaching that paying the bill is important. But it seemed like poor phrasing.
Just random thoughts for today.
Now enjoy that asparagus picture.
Check out @PenMinion's Tweet: https://twitter.com/PenMinion/status/733303102703558656?s=09
That tweet is your chance to win $1000 worth of notebooks for following some Instagram accounts.
https://twitter.com/niicki/status/733106932404232192
This tweet is about dreams. Accomplishing dreams is a life win.
I'm going to add to my dream comment answer here. (Frankly, 3 comments on one post is probably a bit much... )
I'm not sure how to word this dream, so bear with me. (You can also bare with me if you want to get naked. Ha ha.)
Due to my respiratory condition, I'm heat intolerant. Warm air feels like breathing in shards of glass. Slow, painful suffocation. (Zero pleasure. No idea what pleasure some people get from not breathing, but whatever "wire" in the brain has that, mine was cut.)
My best friend, Renee, totally understands. When I visit her, she's got the air cranked. If she can't get her whole house cool, she at least makes safe spots for me. And sits with me. Granted, she enjoys the cool air, so it's easier. Or maybe she's just superwoman. I don't know, but I love her for it. I never feel guilty or unsafe at her place.
Family members will sometimes set a little cold area up for me. Away from everyone. Away from the food, drinks, bathroom, and merriment. My own personal leper colony. I've sat on a chair outside and watched Christmas through the window. I understand ghosts.
I've sat at a friend's house. She was wrapped up under two blankets and still shivering. She asked if I was cold enough, and noted that I looked bright red. I lied and said I was fine. I can't bring myself to say, "no, I'm roasting hot" while the host is freezing at 72° F. Especially knowing that it'll be another 12° until I'm okay. I feel guilty, and my mind is listing the place as unsafe, which breaks my heart.
I frequently lie about being okay when I'm not. I deal with this disorder punishing me. But taking down my friends and family? That's why I became an introvert.
Yes, I've heard it's not a choice. But I was the host or co-host of parties. Ever been to a party where you only know 1 person? BEEN? I'VE THROWN THEM! I made a ton of friends that night... nights... The rager kind of lasted a few days, with people just coming and going. I moved to a town where I didn't know a soul, and I loved it. I made friends. I took over social groups. And it wasn't the first time. When I lived in West Virginia, I was the most popular girl in the school. Upper and lower classmates came to me for advice. I didn't realize I held the title until people told me. It was just me being me. For the record, I was nice, not a mean girl. Okay, maybe to Jim, but the perv needed a smack. Anyway
I'm not bragging. I'm pointing out history. I leave my house once a week now. Sometimes twice. But usually once. On Tuesday, to be with my writing friends. Except November, oh sweet tasty Nov, where we meet up several times a yummy week, mmmmmmm. ♡
That's who I am now. Sounds like an introvert. But am I? It's a choice I made because I hate having other people freezing to keep me from extreme pain. I can't bring myself to ask them to be colder. I haven't even spent more than a few hours at my parents house because my dad can't take the cold, and trying to get it cool for me and then warm for him was exhausting my mom, so I just stopped going.
So what's the dream in this? To not feel guilty, pain, or outcasted when hanging out with people? Yeah, I guess so. I dream of having this nice house where people can come over and there's room to sit. But I know I'll have to buy mini heaters for them, or I'll just be watching from another room. People aren't coming. For the same damn reason so few want to go to Antarctica. (Okay, maybe some other cold place, because I want to go! The trip costs like 16 grand, which is my not-packing-right-now reason.)
Dream to earn enough money for that trip from writing?
Would I survive the flight? What if the plane was hot? The boat leaves from South America. Not exactly known for being cold.
I'm off topic. And I still don't know how to properly word my dream. I guess it's the same one as the getting better dream. But it isn't. This one is about dealing while I wait to get better, or dealing because I won't (short of a medical breakthrough).
End thoughts.
I think you'll like 5x Multifunction Thumb Thing Book Page Holder Convenient Bookmark AZD. Add it to your wishlist! http://www.wish.com/c/566948d95f207b464d8b9e5c
For those of you who read real books (not just ebooks), this is a godsend. My best friend bought this for me last year. I love it. I found them on this site today and had to share.
I made a dent in my reading pile. Not as much of one as I had hoped, but it was a very hard and long week for me, personally.
I missed the interactions from previous boutofbook events. The challenges felt more live before, somehow. Maybe it's just in my little head. It was a rough week, so it's possible that my rose colored glasses were covered in mud.
See you in August!
John and I had a great time today. And we finally saw the inside of the Iron Pigs Coca Cola Park! If it wasn't raining we probably would have stayed longer. Some of the trucks weren't there (bacon...), which was a bummer. The pizza truck was firing up as we left- literally, there was an oven with fire, it was awesome.
I supported Relay for Life in their cancer fighting research efforts today.
http://uniquelymaladjustedbutfun.blogspot.com/2016/03/a-word-from-my-brother-i-am-building.html
Details there.
That's my brother's derby truck. I made my donations to sign it.
You can send yours if you aren't local! Get a logo on there. ACT NOW!
Just had to share part of the best conversation from today:
My wifi was out, AGAIN. (RCN and I have been at odds since March. 5 good years, and now every other week it dies at 3am.) So I called to speak with yet another agent. After reading my file (which, ha ha, takes a WHILE), she asks about my network and such. Once I've described the problem, no wifi, she suggests plugging everything in directly to the modem. Much better. Just hardwire it.
Run an ethernet cable from a smartphone to the modem.
Her actual suggestion.
I couldn't even respond to that.
It's like people who don't understand why we can't build steps or an elevator to the moon.
My Hunger Games books are buried beyond reach right now, so that other is substituting for Katniss. I wanted to include Tool & Die by Sarah Graves, but I can't find it! (Might have loaned to a friend.) So I picked Naked instead, because she is strong and even stronger in the end.
Lady Knight is the 4th in the series, but my personal favorite. I suppose I'll get some arguments over Tris being strong, but girlfriend took on some serious training in book 1, so it's on the list. And Red Queen is just awesome and if you haven't read it yet drop everything and do so now.
My reading progress on day 1 was practically nil because my allergies made it impossible to see. It was bad. Tuesday was my writing group. I read an entire short story that Nicki wrote and Brian's new opening. Those are books-in-progress. Today is all about books though. Maybe I'll write another post later or something. I don't know. I haven't done any of the "link up" stuff. I put the challenges on Twitter, Instagram, and now on my blog. This isn't like past #boutofbooks events with contests and stuff, so I guess there's less pressure or excitement to be on top of that.
I was at my writing group (because Yes, I do write more than just blog posts when I'm sane...more sane...sanish). I went down for some coffee (they really should give me a shot of espresso before asking me to do complex tasks like placing a coffee order), and these pretty flowers were there on my chair when I returned. Along with some cool book mark things that might be better than the tab sticky notes I've taken to using. ♡
Thank you, friends. Especially friend Nicki, who I suspect was 99.999999% behind it.
I'm grateful for people running a weed wacker under my window 4 hours after I've gone to sleep. #firstworldproblems #apartmentlife #ThirdShiftWoes
I'm grateful for the letter from the township stating that I'll be fined if I don't have my septic tank cleaned out soon... even though I don't own one. #wtf
Actually, I am grateful for both of these. It gives me something to direct my negative emotions and energy at. I love my mom, and I'm grateful that she's alive and I could spend Mother's day with her. But reading the sign "free flower for mothers with their children" reminded me of my daughter Xandria, who died on May 3, 2000 at 2pm. I keep that pain locked away. But it really came out this week with a vengeance. She was my dream. Everything else is secondary.
But I have to lock that pain back away. Focus on other things. Writing. My characters refused to speak to me last week. They knew what day it was. Even when I try not to think about it, try to forget the date, it's there. My soul or whatever knows. And it screams in pain.
I have no idea why I'm writing this.
Oh, yeah, so I can bitch about a weed wacker and the stupid township instead of thinking about more pain than I can handle right now. All the topics I WILL NOT discuss on Facebook.
My brother hurt his wrist. I thought it was during his demo derby. Which he won a huge trophy... for his paint job... honoring... Trump. Shut up, I know. Yay, my brother won a trophy. Let's just leave it at that. Anyway, that's not how he hurt his wrist. That injury came when he punched through a windshield. His girlfriend pissed him off. She's been extra angry lately.
It's 11:20 am. I've been up for a half hour now. I should sleep. I think the weed wacking is done. Though, I suspect the lawn mower isn't far behind. I have a letter to write to the township. And I wanted to stop at the post office because I forgot to take postcard stamps with me on Sunday.
Oh Yay, something else to distract me/ that I can bitch about instead!!!
Why sell postcards, but not stamps? Is it just me? Because even one of those postal vending machines would be fine. And a little box to mail the postcards. I realize that not many people send mail. But people do carry address books in their phones! I have half a dozen filled out. If I knew that was available at the park, I'd be all over sending even more postcards than the dozen I usually do. (I seriously dropped the ball on that this year. Whoops.) A cool Elysburg postmark ♡.
I'm the only person who gets excited about that, aren't I? I walked 2 miles in Chicago trying to find a mail box. Not even a drop INSIDE THE MAIN POST OFFICE! Yeah Yeah, it's Thanks to Bombers. Figure out how to let a person mail a post card, OR just take away the ways to mail anything. The second! :/
Even the hotels were all, "that service is for guests only." Screw you people. I use to drive to the main post office in Bethlehem, PA and stood in the long line to get the special postmark on my Christmas letters. The receivers didn't notice or care. I'm the only one who sees things like that and cares. (Actually, my friend Nicki probably would, too.)
I own about 10 letter openers. Three on my desk, 1 on the dining room book case, 1 in the bathroom, 1 in the bedroom, at least 1 in my purse, 1 in the car... Seriously, never more than two steps from a letter opener. My mom, for some reason, opened all my wedding cards. Tore the envelopes to shreds. I mean really ripped into them. One envelope is in half. I cried for an hour when I found out, after the shock wore off, because I literally did not believe it was real. My mind rejected the sight. I was convinced it was a dream. I don't recall any conversations. It was like getting punched in the head-- how everything gets all fuzzy and sound doesn't quite get interpreted. I was in a daze like that. Almost 10 years later, this still bothers me. Really bothers me. I'm going to end up as a ghost that haunts envelopes.
11:45 am
Okay, I really need to try to sleep. It's Tuesday. My favorite day.
