It is 10:56 pm and NaNo is only a little over an hour away from me and I'm hyped up on sugar and I'm scared and I'm nervous and I'm excited and I'm scared and oh God, I'm starting in an HOUR and I still haven't finished all of my notes and I'm not sure how to start and I don't know what's going to happen and my characters are angry with me for not paying any attention to them and I'm sorry and oh my God, this is going to be so freaking weird and hard and fun but I don't want to screw it up but I need to stop worrying about that and I need to practice good grammar and not type in one giant run-on sentence!!!
I have to go read through my notes and jump on my bed.
Friday, October 31, 2008
HALLOWEEN!!!!
Not that I rly give a shit about Halloween! But it means tomorrow is November 1st!
I could not fucking sleep last night. :'( I seriously laid in bed for HOURS. I probably fell asleep sometime around 6 am, and woke up at 9 to call my bank and then call my mother, and then I went back to sleep for a decent while (until like, 2 pm).
Now I'm up and dressed and about to drop some shit off at my therapist's office and then go shopping to stock up on fooooooood!
Srry I don't post anything decent anymore. lulz. BYE.
I could not fucking sleep last night. :'( I seriously laid in bed for HOURS. I probably fell asleep sometime around 6 am, and woke up at 9 to call my bank and then call my mother, and then I went back to sleep for a decent while (until like, 2 pm).
Now I'm up and dressed and about to drop some shit off at my therapist's office and then go shopping to stock up on fooooooood!
Srry I don't post anything decent anymore. lulz. BYE.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The Con
I imagine you when I was distant, non-existant
I followed suit
And laid down on my back, imagine that
A million hours left to think of you and think of that.
Not always in a literal sense, but srrrssslyyy!~!
I followed suit
And laid down on my back, imagine that
A million hours left to think of you and think of that.
Not always in a literal sense, but srrrssslyyy!~!
TWO DAYS!!!!!!~!!
Until NaNo. I'm getting more excited about it. I don't know. I think I just put everything on the back burner so that I wouldn't think too much into it while waiting for the actual day to arrive. But it is about a day and a half away (because I'm starting at midnight!) and I'm getting all... anxious. :D
Tomorrow is Halloween, and I'm going to take a thousand pictures of Trinity in her duck costume. So cute! I don't know if she's going trick or treating tomorrow, but I think tonight, she's going to Hallozooween (a... thing...? that happens at the zoo every year). She'll fit in nicely with the duckies.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show is on tonight! :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D
...I'm in a rly good mood.
Tomorrow is Halloween, and I'm going to take a thousand pictures of Trinity in her duck costume. So cute! I don't know if she's going trick or treating tomorrow, but I think tonight, she's going to Hallozooween (a... thing...? that happens at the zoo every year). She'll fit in nicely with the duckies.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show is on tonight! :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D
...I'm in a rly good mood.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Not... very... nice.
I'm very frustrated with my father.
As I've mentioned, I started writing a Halloween story just a few days ago. I was really excited about it, and though I never talk to my father about my writing, I decided to because things have been different between us. I thought he'd... I don't know, be less of an asshole, maybe.
I was wrong, and I ended up disappointed. He wasn't interested, and made it very obvious, and for some reason, it made me want to cry. I can feel that he doesn't believe in me and/or my writing abilities, however mediocre they may be... It makes me feel like I'm 6 years old again, and he's standing over me yelling, telling me that I've done everything wrong again.
I realize how dramatic that sounds. Eh, sorry...
Only three days until NaNo, and I guess I'm excited. Not as excited as I was a few weeks ago. I guess I need to psyche myself up some. I'm having doubts, of course. I'm worried my plot won't carry me far enough, and I'll get bored with it. I don't want that to happen, but it's very possible. :(
I guess that's my task for the next few days. Get excited?
Also, I finished my Halloween story. Should be reason to celebrate; it is the first thing I've ever finished. I'm editing right now (half-way through) and will finish tomorrow, and then revise it, which shouldn't take too long. Happy about it, I guess.
I don't feel good. I don't have friends anymore.
As I've mentioned, I started writing a Halloween story just a few days ago. I was really excited about it, and though I never talk to my father about my writing, I decided to because things have been different between us. I thought he'd... I don't know, be less of an asshole, maybe.
I was wrong, and I ended up disappointed. He wasn't interested, and made it very obvious, and for some reason, it made me want to cry. I can feel that he doesn't believe in me and/or my writing abilities, however mediocre they may be... It makes me feel like I'm 6 years old again, and he's standing over me yelling, telling me that I've done everything wrong again.
I realize how dramatic that sounds. Eh, sorry...
Only three days until NaNo, and I guess I'm excited. Not as excited as I was a few weeks ago. I guess I need to psyche myself up some. I'm having doubts, of course. I'm worried my plot won't carry me far enough, and I'll get bored with it. I don't want that to happen, but it's very possible. :(
I guess that's my task for the next few days. Get excited?
Also, I finished my Halloween story. Should be reason to celebrate; it is the first thing I've ever finished. I'm editing right now (half-way through) and will finish tomorrow, and then revise it, which shouldn't take too long. Happy about it, I guess.
I don't feel good. I don't have friends anymore.
Monday, October 27, 2008
November is so close!
I can taste it! And it tastes like lemons! And hot chocolate! But not combined! Gross!
!!!!!
http://www.alphasmart.com/danastore/neo_features.html <--Someone buy me that. I would srsly love you for all of eternity.
Anyway, back to November. It is nearly here, and I'm procrastinating like a motherfucker. I should be working on notes, and I should be finished my Halloween short story, but instead, I am wasting as much time as I possibly can!
I think tonight, after my appointment (I have too many appointments), I will attempt to finish the short story, and then I will begin the editing process. Tomorrow will be devoted to finishing my character bible, and Wednesday-Friday will be spent hiding out and fretting over the beginning of NaNoWriMo.
I'll write more later.
!!!!!
http://www.alphasmart.com/danastore/neo_features.html <--Someone buy me that. I would srsly love you for all of eternity.
Anyway, back to November. It is nearly here, and I'm procrastinating like a motherfucker. I should be working on notes, and I should be finished my Halloween short story, but instead, I am wasting as much time as I possibly can!
I think tonight, after my appointment (I have too many appointments), I will attempt to finish the short story, and then I will begin the editing process. Tomorrow will be devoted to finishing my character bible, and Wednesday-Friday will be spent hiding out and fretting over the beginning of NaNoWriMo.
I'll write more later.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Dreams.
What do they mean? They're so unfair.
Every few weeks, I dream of a boy I went to school with. From my very first day until my very last, I saw him every single day, and I could barely stand him until my last year. We were both in high school, and were shocked to see each other (what were the odds that both of us ended up where we did?), and suddenly, we grew closer. Maybe it was the strange situation we found ourselves in, somehow thrown together, and needed someone or something familiar, or maybe we were just tired of being so hateful towards each other. Either way, something changed, and he became one of my best friends, my protector, my safety. At least inside the walls of that school. Every morning, I was greeted with a hug, and every afternoon, I rushed to meet him near his locker, just to see him one last time.
I thought about him when I got home. I wished we hadn't wasted so much time before. When I was happy, he was the first person I wanted to share it with. When I cried, he was the one I wanted to cry to. I eventually realized that I had some kind of feelings for him. I think I realized that when he began dating a girl named Kelli. Constantly, I saw them together, and I thought of how rotten she was, and I wanted him to see that she was no good for him. I think he did see that, but he stayed with her. But during that, he never changed the way he treated me. So respectfully, so sweetly.
After I dropped out, he and I stopped talking.
For some reason (probably due to the amount of chaos in my life at that point), I wasn't really concerned about it, but eventually, I began to miss him, and it started to hurt. I didn't want to think about it, because it pulled me apart to wonder if he ever thought about me, too. Always, a little voice in my head said, "No." I believe(d) it.
About a year ago, I began having dreams about him. They were strangely clear, like I'd actually lived through them and they were just memories I was going over in my head. He was so incredibly close, so real, so in detail. Exactly what I remember.
I had another one about him this morning, and it has left me feeling more depressed than any before. I miss him. I wish I knew where he was.
In this dream, I was still living at my father's house, and he came to see me. He acted as if he wasn't supposed to be seeing me, and it scared me. We sat together on the couch, his arm around me and my head resting on his shoulder. Our fingers were twisted together, and I can still feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed.
"I have to go really soon," he told me, resting his chin against the top of my head. I held onto him tighter, but didn't speak. God, those few moments where he was real again were blissful. I didn't want him to go, I didn't want to wake up, and I still don't want to wake up. I began crying, and he shushed me, telling me not to be sad, but he felt slightly shakey, too, as if he was scared.
I sat up and kissed his forehead, and saw his face. He looked so sad. I think he was mirroring my expression. I felt so sorry, and I wanted to tell him so, but I woke up.
Since then, he has been the only thing in my mind, and my sadness grows by the second. Since the dreams have started, always different but always heartbreakingly sweet, I've been left wondering if I should try to get in contact with him. I know the general area in which he used to live, and I know the school he used to go to. I could try to find him, but what would I say? I have no idea.
From the way he treated me for those few months, and the way I remember him, and the way he just appears in my mind out of nowhere, I wonder if that means something. What if he is the person I'm supposed to be with? I consider this so seriously, because even when we were young and we fought, I heard stories of childhood sweethearts growing up and getting married, and even though we weren't exactly sweethearts, I wondered if that was us. If we could grow up and want each other, and be together, and start a family, and stay in love throughout our whole lives, and die happily together, knowing that we completed each other for all of these years.
Dear fate, won't you please interfere? Send me to him, or him to me, and let me see if he's still as wonderful as I remember. Let me see if we're supposed to be together, or even know each other. I need something to happen. This new feeling I have, this new craving... I need him.
I hope I find him.
Every few weeks, I dream of a boy I went to school with. From my very first day until my very last, I saw him every single day, and I could barely stand him until my last year. We were both in high school, and were shocked to see each other (what were the odds that both of us ended up where we did?), and suddenly, we grew closer. Maybe it was the strange situation we found ourselves in, somehow thrown together, and needed someone or something familiar, or maybe we were just tired of being so hateful towards each other. Either way, something changed, and he became one of my best friends, my protector, my safety. At least inside the walls of that school. Every morning, I was greeted with a hug, and every afternoon, I rushed to meet him near his locker, just to see him one last time.
I thought about him when I got home. I wished we hadn't wasted so much time before. When I was happy, he was the first person I wanted to share it with. When I cried, he was the one I wanted to cry to. I eventually realized that I had some kind of feelings for him. I think I realized that when he began dating a girl named Kelli. Constantly, I saw them together, and I thought of how rotten she was, and I wanted him to see that she was no good for him. I think he did see that, but he stayed with her. But during that, he never changed the way he treated me. So respectfully, so sweetly.
After I dropped out, he and I stopped talking.
For some reason (probably due to the amount of chaos in my life at that point), I wasn't really concerned about it, but eventually, I began to miss him, and it started to hurt. I didn't want to think about it, because it pulled me apart to wonder if he ever thought about me, too. Always, a little voice in my head said, "No." I believe(d) it.
About a year ago, I began having dreams about him. They were strangely clear, like I'd actually lived through them and they were just memories I was going over in my head. He was so incredibly close, so real, so in detail. Exactly what I remember.
I had another one about him this morning, and it has left me feeling more depressed than any before. I miss him. I wish I knew where he was.
In this dream, I was still living at my father's house, and he came to see me. He acted as if he wasn't supposed to be seeing me, and it scared me. We sat together on the couch, his arm around me and my head resting on his shoulder. Our fingers were twisted together, and I can still feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed.
"I have to go really soon," he told me, resting his chin against the top of my head. I held onto him tighter, but didn't speak. God, those few moments where he was real again were blissful. I didn't want him to go, I didn't want to wake up, and I still don't want to wake up. I began crying, and he shushed me, telling me not to be sad, but he felt slightly shakey, too, as if he was scared.
I sat up and kissed his forehead, and saw his face. He looked so sad. I think he was mirroring my expression. I felt so sorry, and I wanted to tell him so, but I woke up.
Since then, he has been the only thing in my mind, and my sadness grows by the second. Since the dreams have started, always different but always heartbreakingly sweet, I've been left wondering if I should try to get in contact with him. I know the general area in which he used to live, and I know the school he used to go to. I could try to find him, but what would I say? I have no idea.
From the way he treated me for those few months, and the way I remember him, and the way he just appears in my mind out of nowhere, I wonder if that means something. What if he is the person I'm supposed to be with? I consider this so seriously, because even when we were young and we fought, I heard stories of childhood sweethearts growing up and getting married, and even though we weren't exactly sweethearts, I wondered if that was us. If we could grow up and want each other, and be together, and start a family, and stay in love throughout our whole lives, and die happily together, knowing that we completed each other for all of these years.
Dear fate, won't you please interfere? Send me to him, or him to me, and let me see if he's still as wonderful as I remember. Let me see if we're supposed to be together, or even know each other. I need something to happen. This new feeling I have, this new craving... I need him.
I hope I find him.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
A note about potato soup.
I held you in high esteem, but you have ruined your reputation within my house, and within my heart. You should be ashamed of yourself.
...In simpler terms, I spilled potato soup ALL OVER the kitchen floor today. Or rather, the potato soup spilled itself? That sounds better. More like its fault, instead of mine.
Anyway, still yum, but ver disappointing, annoying, and hard to clean up. Curse you, potato soup.
Right now, I'm working on a short story for Halloween. Nothing anyone is going to see, nothing serious, just a bit of practice before NaNo rolls around, and maybe something to save until next year, or even a few years from now, when Trinity will be old enough to understand. She likes hearing my stories.
Speaking of Trinity, she spent time with me today, and oh, how I wanted to beat her but kiss her at the same time! I can't deny that she is, or can be, extremely irritating, but her extreme sweetness, intelligence, and honesty always make up for the bad moments. My God, she is precious.
I never wear my hair down around her, or around anyone, really, because it has gotten so long, but I had just brushed it and she kept stroking my ponytail and saying, "Your hair is so pretty!" I asked her, "Do you want me to take it down so you can play with it?" She told me yes, so I did, and she loved it. "I want to brush it!" she told me, so I let her, which turned out to be a painful experience, but still cute on her end. She then stood in front of me, running her hands through the front part of my hair, but she started grabbing on and pulling, which obviously hurt, so I grabbed her tiny hands and loosened her fingers from my hair.
"No hair-pulling, okay?" I whispered. She nodded, and went back to what she was doing. A few moments later, again, she had two handfuls of my hair and tugged, harder than before. Out of impulse, my voice went up and I yelled at her. "NO, Trinity! Don't pull anyone's hair!" It wasn't a harsh yell, but it hurt her feelings anyway. She dropped my hair and her hands fell to her side, and she slouched off towards my mother's bedroom. Her head was bowed and her lips were pouted, and she looked so incredibly sad that I wanted to rush after her and cover her face with kisses. I called for her, but she didn't respond. Finally, I got up and went into the room, where she sat in the dark on my mother's bed, her arms crossed over her chest. I sat down next to her.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, but you can't pull hair. Not anybody's. It isn't nice." I wrapped an arm around her tiny body, and she rested her head against me.
"Okaaaaaay," she mumbled, still sounding upset.
To make her feel better, I did something that usually worked: "Hey! Do you wanna get on my back?"
"Yes!" she squealed, up on her feet and behind me in no time, crawling up onto my shoulders. I carried her from the bedroom to the living room, trying so hard not to hit her head on anything (and succeeding) to show her mom and my mom. We went back into the bedroom and I laid down on my back, which was her cue to start using me as a jungle gym. She put a pillow on my stomach, counted, "1...2...3..." and then jumped up and landed either on her stomach or on her knees, on my stomach or chest. Oh God, it hurt, but she was having so much fun.
See that? I take the pain just to let her have fun.
A few times, she hurt me pretty badly, standing directly on my hip bone and then standing on my freaking boob. Holy shit, it hurts still. Both of them. Anyway, we had fun. I love spending time with her.
It sounds crazy, but she has so much personality. More personality than anyone else I know. It's amazing. I have a feeling that, with age, you lose and gain aspects of your own personality, but the things you lose are much more... important than the things you gain. Who wants to lose the child-like wonder? No one. I really don't think anyone does. It adds such a beauty to the world, such a magical charm. I like to think I still hold on to at least a small piece of my own child-like wonder, or at least have regained some from spending the past 3 years with a infant/baby/toddler who has a true gift of finding the "Ooh, ahh!" quality about absolutely everything.
It's 10:41 pm, and I would like to go to sleep, but I can't. Not until around 2 am. But fuck, I am so tired.
...In simpler terms, I spilled potato soup ALL OVER the kitchen floor today. Or rather, the potato soup spilled itself? That sounds better. More like its fault, instead of mine.
Anyway, still yum, but ver disappointing, annoying, and hard to clean up. Curse you, potato soup.
Right now, I'm working on a short story for Halloween. Nothing anyone is going to see, nothing serious, just a bit of practice before NaNo rolls around, and maybe something to save until next year, or even a few years from now, when Trinity will be old enough to understand. She likes hearing my stories.
Speaking of Trinity, she spent time with me today, and oh, how I wanted to beat her but kiss her at the same time! I can't deny that she is, or can be, extremely irritating, but her extreme sweetness, intelligence, and honesty always make up for the bad moments. My God, she is precious.
I never wear my hair down around her, or around anyone, really, because it has gotten so long, but I had just brushed it and she kept stroking my ponytail and saying, "Your hair is so pretty!" I asked her, "Do you want me to take it down so you can play with it?" She told me yes, so I did, and she loved it. "I want to brush it!" she told me, so I let her, which turned out to be a painful experience, but still cute on her end. She then stood in front of me, running her hands through the front part of my hair, but she started grabbing on and pulling, which obviously hurt, so I grabbed her tiny hands and loosened her fingers from my hair.
"No hair-pulling, okay?" I whispered. She nodded, and went back to what she was doing. A few moments later, again, she had two handfuls of my hair and tugged, harder than before. Out of impulse, my voice went up and I yelled at her. "NO, Trinity! Don't pull anyone's hair!" It wasn't a harsh yell, but it hurt her feelings anyway. She dropped my hair and her hands fell to her side, and she slouched off towards my mother's bedroom. Her head was bowed and her lips were pouted, and she looked so incredibly sad that I wanted to rush after her and cover her face with kisses. I called for her, but she didn't respond. Finally, I got up and went into the room, where she sat in the dark on my mother's bed, her arms crossed over her chest. I sat down next to her.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, but you can't pull hair. Not anybody's. It isn't nice." I wrapped an arm around her tiny body, and she rested her head against me.
"Okaaaaaay," she mumbled, still sounding upset.
To make her feel better, I did something that usually worked: "Hey! Do you wanna get on my back?"
"Yes!" she squealed, up on her feet and behind me in no time, crawling up onto my shoulders. I carried her from the bedroom to the living room, trying so hard not to hit her head on anything (and succeeding) to show her mom and my mom. We went back into the bedroom and I laid down on my back, which was her cue to start using me as a jungle gym. She put a pillow on my stomach, counted, "1...2...3..." and then jumped up and landed either on her stomach or on her knees, on my stomach or chest. Oh God, it hurt, but she was having so much fun.
See that? I take the pain just to let her have fun.
A few times, she hurt me pretty badly, standing directly on my hip bone and then standing on my freaking boob. Holy shit, it hurts still. Both of them. Anyway, we had fun. I love spending time with her.
It sounds crazy, but she has so much personality. More personality than anyone else I know. It's amazing. I have a feeling that, with age, you lose and gain aspects of your own personality, but the things you lose are much more... important than the things you gain. Who wants to lose the child-like wonder? No one. I really don't think anyone does. It adds such a beauty to the world, such a magical charm. I like to think I still hold on to at least a small piece of my own child-like wonder, or at least have regained some from spending the past 3 years with a infant/baby/toddler who has a true gift of finding the "Ooh, ahh!" quality about absolutely everything.
It's 10:41 pm, and I would like to go to sleep, but I can't. Not until around 2 am. But fuck, I am so tired.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
My first appointment with Dr. Murphy.
I didn't expect to like her. I didn't expect to enjoy it. I've been over this procedure many, many times, and my hatred for it has increased over the years. I've seen numerous psychiatrists, I've taken countless different types of medication, I've told my story a thousand times, yet it felt different this time.
On the way there, I told my mom, "If she doesn't look friendly, I want you to come back with me. I'll tell you." This, as always, is a situation where I "judge a book by its cover," so to speak. Usually, I'm right about my judgements in these situations. If they have a sour expression on their face, as if this is a huge chore and they'd rather be somewhere else, I know automatically that I won't enjoy them, and they won't enjoy me. I've had far too many doctors like that.
Dr. Murphy opened the door and called my name. She is an older lady, but very pretty, though she didn't look very happy. Not that I expect anyone to be super cheerful; who really wants to go to work? Anyway, I was going to bring my mom back with me, but she asked to speak to me alone first. I went, telling her it was nice to meet her, and from that, she seemed to warm up a bit. Her office was big and bright, with a blue and green couch and a black leather chair. She asked me to sit in the chair, next to the computer, so she could take notes on what we talk about. I glanced at the clock. She came and got me on time, which is extremely rare, going by doctors I've seen before.
She started off by stating everything she knew by the bit of information my primary care doctor gave her office over the phone. "I can't really read this handwriting, but I think it says 'BP'. Bipolar?"
I shrugged. "Everyone seems to think that, but I haven't had an official diagnosis. Or maybe I have. My current psychiatrist is pretty... tight-lipped about everything. She doesn't explain things to me."
"I see." She typed some information into the computer, and then asked who I was seeing. Her eyebrows shot up at the mention of my doctor, Michelle Hubner. "I hear she's a great doctor."
I shrugged again. "Maybe for some people, but I don't really get along with her well. She doesn't really listen to me. When she tells me she wants me to try a new medication, even when I tell her I don't feel ready for it, or I don't want to try it, or I don't think it's right for me, she doesn't pay attention, and gives it to me anyway. I always feel obligated to give it a chance, and it always throws me off-balance. I hate it."
"Maybe she has you on the wrong medication."
And so our conversation continued, for over an hour, and she asked me so many questions, but they weren't as irritating as before. Something about the way she asked them, the way she patiently waited for my answers changed it for me. When I didn't know how to answer her question, she'd give me examples, or she'd list off "options" for me to choose from, which was a great help.
We discussed my anxiety, and I told her all about it, as truthfully as I could. After typing what I'd told her into the computer, she opened a medical dictionary and read me the definition of 'anxiety,' and then she turned to 'social phobia,' also known as 'social anxiety disorder,' and she read that to me, too. Anxiety, not so much. Social phobia, that fit... everything. Every single thing I do and feel and the way I act.
There was a lot more we discussed, but I don't really feel comfortable putting it here. It was a long meeting, and I feel more enlightened from it.
At the end, another doctor came in and talked to me about everything we'd gone over, and asked if I planned to come back. I do. He was very sweet, and seemed to know how I felt, so he didn't do anything that could've possibly intimidated me. It was nice. I really wanted to hug him.
My final diagnosis for today ended up as social phobia, and bipolar I. Somehow, I expected it. The past few years, people have been throwing around the suggestion, and I've wondered if it could be possible. It runs in the family. My mother sees a carbon copy of her sister in me. That idea has scared me; I love my aunt, but I've always seen her as my "crazy" aunt. It bothers me that my mother sees that in me. It makes me wonder if I scare my family from time to time with the way I act, the things I say. I wish I could apologize, and I've tried, but she always tells me that it isn't my fault. I still feel like it is.
I have another appointment with her on November 6th. By then, I'll have my medical records transferred to her office, and I'll have told Dr. Hubner that I won't be seeing her anymore. I have an appointment with her next week.
I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. I know what I have, and it is something they are sure of now. It is something they can treat. It is something I can get a hold on, if I want to. She told me many times that no one can force me to take the medication. If I feel like my best route is to not take medication for bipolar or depression or anything, that is up to me.
I don't really know what I'll do. I want to stay on my medication for anxiety; it helps. And I want to treat anything else I may have, but I've been on these medications before. Many of them. I know what most of them do to me. I know how... incapable they make me feel. I know that won't last forever, but it's hard to let yourself feel so hopeless, you know? To know what is making you feel this way, and to keep pulling yourself into it. I know that once the side effects go away and it is in my blood steadily, if I'd give it a chance to work, it could. I just never give it the chance.
I'm going to tell her that in November, I won't be ready for it. In November, I'll have a thousand other things going on and I don't want new medication to potentially handicap me during this time. I have too much to focus on. December, though... I'll be willing.
Ah, I need to make dinner and read and sleep. I have to wake up early. Goodnight.
edit: Something I wanted to add, something I noticed myself doing today... Eye contact?! It was weird. I never make eye contact, yet I was today, with both doctors. Hm.
Also, I'm feeling... off. Sad. Lonely, I think.
Blue October, I love you.
"I've gotta learn
To live and dream
Before I go
And get myself in love."
Srsly. :/
On the way there, I told my mom, "If she doesn't look friendly, I want you to come back with me. I'll tell you." This, as always, is a situation where I "judge a book by its cover," so to speak. Usually, I'm right about my judgements in these situations. If they have a sour expression on their face, as if this is a huge chore and they'd rather be somewhere else, I know automatically that I won't enjoy them, and they won't enjoy me. I've had far too many doctors like that.
Dr. Murphy opened the door and called my name. She is an older lady, but very pretty, though she didn't look very happy. Not that I expect anyone to be super cheerful; who really wants to go to work? Anyway, I was going to bring my mom back with me, but she asked to speak to me alone first. I went, telling her it was nice to meet her, and from that, she seemed to warm up a bit. Her office was big and bright, with a blue and green couch and a black leather chair. She asked me to sit in the chair, next to the computer, so she could take notes on what we talk about. I glanced at the clock. She came and got me on time, which is extremely rare, going by doctors I've seen before.
She started off by stating everything she knew by the bit of information my primary care doctor gave her office over the phone. "I can't really read this handwriting, but I think it says 'BP'. Bipolar?"
I shrugged. "Everyone seems to think that, but I haven't had an official diagnosis. Or maybe I have. My current psychiatrist is pretty... tight-lipped about everything. She doesn't explain things to me."
"I see." She typed some information into the computer, and then asked who I was seeing. Her eyebrows shot up at the mention of my doctor, Michelle Hubner. "I hear she's a great doctor."
I shrugged again. "Maybe for some people, but I don't really get along with her well. She doesn't really listen to me. When she tells me she wants me to try a new medication, even when I tell her I don't feel ready for it, or I don't want to try it, or I don't think it's right for me, she doesn't pay attention, and gives it to me anyway. I always feel obligated to give it a chance, and it always throws me off-balance. I hate it."
"Maybe she has you on the wrong medication."
And so our conversation continued, for over an hour, and she asked me so many questions, but they weren't as irritating as before. Something about the way she asked them, the way she patiently waited for my answers changed it for me. When I didn't know how to answer her question, she'd give me examples, or she'd list off "options" for me to choose from, which was a great help.
We discussed my anxiety, and I told her all about it, as truthfully as I could. After typing what I'd told her into the computer, she opened a medical dictionary and read me the definition of 'anxiety,' and then she turned to 'social phobia,' also known as 'social anxiety disorder,' and she read that to me, too. Anxiety, not so much. Social phobia, that fit... everything. Every single thing I do and feel and the way I act.
There was a lot more we discussed, but I don't really feel comfortable putting it here. It was a long meeting, and I feel more enlightened from it.
At the end, another doctor came in and talked to me about everything we'd gone over, and asked if I planned to come back. I do. He was very sweet, and seemed to know how I felt, so he didn't do anything that could've possibly intimidated me. It was nice. I really wanted to hug him.
My final diagnosis for today ended up as social phobia, and bipolar I. Somehow, I expected it. The past few years, people have been throwing around the suggestion, and I've wondered if it could be possible. It runs in the family. My mother sees a carbon copy of her sister in me. That idea has scared me; I love my aunt, but I've always seen her as my "crazy" aunt. It bothers me that my mother sees that in me. It makes me wonder if I scare my family from time to time with the way I act, the things I say. I wish I could apologize, and I've tried, but she always tells me that it isn't my fault. I still feel like it is.
I have another appointment with her on November 6th. By then, I'll have my medical records transferred to her office, and I'll have told Dr. Hubner that I won't be seeing her anymore. I have an appointment with her next week.
I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. I know what I have, and it is something they are sure of now. It is something they can treat. It is something I can get a hold on, if I want to. She told me many times that no one can force me to take the medication. If I feel like my best route is to not take medication for bipolar or depression or anything, that is up to me.
I don't really know what I'll do. I want to stay on my medication for anxiety; it helps. And I want to treat anything else I may have, but I've been on these medications before. Many of them. I know what most of them do to me. I know how... incapable they make me feel. I know that won't last forever, but it's hard to let yourself feel so hopeless, you know? To know what is making you feel this way, and to keep pulling yourself into it. I know that once the side effects go away and it is in my blood steadily, if I'd give it a chance to work, it could. I just never give it the chance.
I'm going to tell her that in November, I won't be ready for it. In November, I'll have a thousand other things going on and I don't want new medication to potentially handicap me during this time. I have too much to focus on. December, though... I'll be willing.
Ah, I need to make dinner and read and sleep. I have to wake up early. Goodnight.
edit: Something I wanted to add, something I noticed myself doing today... Eye contact?! It was weird. I never make eye contact, yet I was today, with both doctors. Hm.
Also, I'm feeling... off. Sad. Lonely, I think.
Blue October, I love you.
"I've gotta learn
To live and dream
Before I go
And get myself in love."
Srsly. :/
Monday, October 20, 2008
A few things...
1. Potato soup is GOOD.
2. "I can't keep myself and still keep you, too." (That makes an insane amount of sense right now.)
3. I love Kanye West.
4. Why is the intro to I Will Possess Your Heart SO FUCKING LONG?
5. Um, 12 days!!!!1
6. My almost-3 year old cousin knows every word to Disturbia by Rihanna.
7. She also has this new thing she does where she walks up to you and says, "You're a peanut... butter... jelly... SANDWICH!!!" and tickles you. Cutest thing ever.
8. I need to figure out what I'm going to do for my birthday.
9. I finally cleaned my bedroom. It looks super awesome now. :D
10. More soup. Bye.
2. "I can't keep myself and still keep you, too." (That makes an insane amount of sense right now.)
3. I love Kanye West.
4. Why is the intro to I Will Possess Your Heart SO FUCKING LONG?
5. Um, 12 days!!!!1
6. My almost-3 year old cousin knows every word to Disturbia by Rihanna.
7. She also has this new thing she does where she walks up to you and says, "You're a peanut... butter... jelly... SANDWICH!!!" and tickles you. Cutest thing ever.
8. I need to figure out what I'm going to do for my birthday.
9. I finally cleaned my bedroom. It looks super awesome now. :D
10. More soup. Bye.
Friday, October 17, 2008
As dead as leaves.
Chilly mornings are so enchanting.
I'm talking about the morning when you can feel that autumn has really set in, and the crispness of the air nips at your cheeks, your nose. The mornings that feel icey, almost like you can taste winter, and the excitement jolts your body like a lightning strike. The tips of your fingers tingle at the memories that pass briefly, giving you a faint glimpse at the past, but moving out of sight quickly, reminding you that now is not the time to focus on these moments. This is your hour, your minute, your second to be content with the present. We don't take a lot of time to do that. We either fantasize over the past, or we fret over the future. Rarely do we breathe in, make an ordinary moment one to remember forever, and let it pass without clutching onto it. Don't worry. There are plenty more precious moments to come.
Before I get too ahead of myself, daydreaming of winter, Halloween is so close. Two weeks exactly! Trinity was going to be Hannah Montana (I cannot even picture it), but she decided she wanted to be... a ducky. Best costume idea ever. She tried it on, and Genie took a picture to show us, and God, it was precious. I can't wait until the night.
But also, going past Halloween (way, way past), it's about time that I start figuring out what I'm getting who for Christmas. I need to think of something extra-special for my brother this year (for Christmas AND his birthday, which is December 31). I looove buying giiiiifts! :D <3
I'm off.
I'm talking about the morning when you can feel that autumn has really set in, and the crispness of the air nips at your cheeks, your nose. The mornings that feel icey, almost like you can taste winter, and the excitement jolts your body like a lightning strike. The tips of your fingers tingle at the memories that pass briefly, giving you a faint glimpse at the past, but moving out of sight quickly, reminding you that now is not the time to focus on these moments. This is your hour, your minute, your second to be content with the present. We don't take a lot of time to do that. We either fantasize over the past, or we fret over the future. Rarely do we breathe in, make an ordinary moment one to remember forever, and let it pass without clutching onto it. Don't worry. There are plenty more precious moments to come.
Before I get too ahead of myself, daydreaming of winter, Halloween is so close. Two weeks exactly! Trinity was going to be Hannah Montana (I cannot even picture it), but she decided she wanted to be... a ducky. Best costume idea ever. She tried it on, and Genie took a picture to show us, and God, it was precious. I can't wait until the night.
But also, going past Halloween (way, way past), it's about time that I start figuring out what I'm getting who for Christmas. I need to think of something extra-special for my brother this year (for Christmas AND his birthday, which is December 31). I looove buying giiiiifts! :D <3
I'm off.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Why did we grow up? Apart?
It is so strange to think of you. To see your aged face, always precious, exactly what I remember, yet so much different. To remember your voice, your tones, your laugh. To feel the faint touch of your arms around me, and to wish that they were still. To wonder who you are now, and why you aren't part of my life. To have the best memories of you, memories that have been untouched for the past 5 years, out of hope that you'd be part of my life again. The memories are clear, and are projected in my head as if our lives have been made into a movie, and I am finally seeing the ending result. What a ridiculous movie it would be. So overwhelming. So taboo. But so perfect, so happy, so wonderful to see you in motion again... But there is always an ending, no matter how anti-climatic, unbelievable, or sudden it may be.
I know you remember me, but I don't think the memories have been unlocked yet. For me, the time is now, and I remember you better than ever, and no matter how badly it hurts me to miss you so much, I'm overjoyed to be able to compare what I know about you now to what I knew about you then, and to see that you're still partially the person I remember. The person I grew up with, the person that reassured me when I needed it, the person that lifted me up higher than anyone else could.
In my head, you're still my best friend. We're still the socially awkward, privately wild people we used to be. I still think you give the best hugs. I will always laugh at our stupid jokes. I will always wish you the best.
Ah, I miss you. I love you. I hope you think of me, too.
I occasionally have a very difficult time figuring out my emotions. That was so hard to write, and I'm not entirely sure it is about just one person. A few others came to mind through certain lines, and I could've gone off in an entirely different direction, picking apart the mistakes of each relationship I was reminded of.
Today, I don't want to know the mistakes, the problems, the downfall. I just want to remember the good things. The happy times. There were so many more of them than anything, and for that, I am grateful.
Also, you may not agree with me, and you may not understand what I say, but do not get critical with me. I'm not going to point out flaws in what you say, think, believe. Don't do it to me.
I know you remember me, but I don't think the memories have been unlocked yet. For me, the time is now, and I remember you better than ever, and no matter how badly it hurts me to miss you so much, I'm overjoyed to be able to compare what I know about you now to what I knew about you then, and to see that you're still partially the person I remember. The person I grew up with, the person that reassured me when I needed it, the person that lifted me up higher than anyone else could.
In my head, you're still my best friend. We're still the socially awkward, privately wild people we used to be. I still think you give the best hugs. I will always laugh at our stupid jokes. I will always wish you the best.
Ah, I miss you. I love you. I hope you think of me, too.
I occasionally have a very difficult time figuring out my emotions. That was so hard to write, and I'm not entirely sure it is about just one person. A few others came to mind through certain lines, and I could've gone off in an entirely different direction, picking apart the mistakes of each relationship I was reminded of.
Today, I don't want to know the mistakes, the problems, the downfall. I just want to remember the good things. The happy times. There were so many more of them than anything, and for that, I am grateful.
Also, you may not agree with me, and you may not understand what I say, but do not get critical with me. I'm not going to point out flaws in what you say, think, believe. Don't do it to me.
Free Rice!
www.freerice.com/index.php
Go donate some rice.
I've been spending way too much time on the computer, and I think it is about time to take a step back and focus on more important things. No, not cutting off computer access or anything, just a few hours less a day. >.> /loser
My head is hurting. I should be sleeping.
Go donate some rice.
I've been spending way too much time on the computer, and I think it is about time to take a step back and focus on more important things. No, not cutting off computer access or anything, just a few hours less a day. >.> /loser
My head is hurting. I should be sleeping.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Recharged.
I think I've been letting myself suffer for the past few days. Since Thursday, I feel like I've been in constant motion. It's tiring. I've been doing nothing to keep myself... levelheaded. No writing (except for here), no reading, no painting, no relaxing... I've been really tense.
Earlier tonight, I went into my bedroom, turned on my desk lamp, got out my art journal, paint, brushes, and incense. I lit that shit up (haha, sounds weird!) and started painting and was instantly soothed. It was nice. I felt a little off-beat at first, though, with the painting, but eventually got back into it nicely. I actually did a few pages that have become favorites. I might post pictures later. Anyway, I've only got 9 more pages to go before it is full and I can use it, but I might save it until my other journal is full. Don't know.
So I guess I know what to do now, when I'm feeling shitty for no explainable reason... which happens pretty often? Hmmmm.
Oh, today, when I woke up (at 4:30 pm), my mother told me that a doctor had called. I forget what their name was, for some reason, I want to say... Dr. Murphy? Huh. I don't know. Anyway, a new psychiatrist. I don't know if I want that. I see a woman right now who... I don't really like, but I can handle. She doesn't try to force me to try medications I don't think are right for me, she gives me what helps me (in a very low dose, but at least I'm getting it), and I don't have to tell her my "story".
God, that has to be the worst part. Having to go over everything that has ever happened, everything that has brought you to where you are today. I don't want to do that again. I can't even count how many times I've done it before. I've had so many fucking doctors. I don't want a new one, uggggghhhhhhhhh. Leave me alone.
I told my mother I would go, just to see what she is like. I have an appointment with my other psychiatrist less than a week later, and if things don't work out with the new doctor, I will stay with my current one.
Medical stuff sucks.
But I feel good right now. Good good good. I think.
Earlier tonight, I went into my bedroom, turned on my desk lamp, got out my art journal, paint, brushes, and incense. I lit that shit up (haha, sounds weird!) and started painting and was instantly soothed. It was nice. I felt a little off-beat at first, though, with the painting, but eventually got back into it nicely. I actually did a few pages that have become favorites. I might post pictures later. Anyway, I've only got 9 more pages to go before it is full and I can use it, but I might save it until my other journal is full. Don't know.
So I guess I know what to do now, when I'm feeling shitty for no explainable reason... which happens pretty often? Hmmmm.
Oh, today, when I woke up (at 4:30 pm), my mother told me that a doctor had called. I forget what their name was, for some reason, I want to say... Dr. Murphy? Huh. I don't know. Anyway, a new psychiatrist. I don't know if I want that. I see a woman right now who... I don't really like, but I can handle. She doesn't try to force me to try medications I don't think are right for me, she gives me what helps me (in a very low dose, but at least I'm getting it), and I don't have to tell her my "story".
God, that has to be the worst part. Having to go over everything that has ever happened, everything that has brought you to where you are today. I don't want to do that again. I can't even count how many times I've done it before. I've had so many fucking doctors. I don't want a new one, uggggghhhhhhhhh. Leave me alone.
I told my mother I would go, just to see what she is like. I have an appointment with my other psychiatrist less than a week later, and if things don't work out with the new doctor, I will stay with my current one.
Medical stuff sucks.
But I feel good right now. Good good good. I think.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Ah, feeling awkward.
Why does this happen to me? Out of nowhere, I suddenly feel awkward and timid, like I should be hiding or ashamed. The weird thing about it is that I'm never in public when this happens. I'm always at home, surrounded by people I know, or absolutely no one.
I can't count the number of times throughout the past five years of my life that I've been able to describe how I feel as "inadequate" and nothing else. It is the only word that fits.
I can't even speak about this. :(
/hides from the world
I can't count the number of times throughout the past five years of my life that I've been able to describe how I feel as "inadequate" and nothing else. It is the only word that fits.
I can't even speak about this. :(
/hides from the world
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Happiness ---> Guilt
This is something I've been feeling lately. Guilt as a result of happiness, or fun, or anything positive.
It pains me to think that, while I'm over here having a great time, somewhere, someone is hurting. A lot of people. It makes me feel like I should be grieving with them, rather than living my life as if none of it phases me.
Because it does. I mean, especially in times like right now, when it hits a little closer to home than normal.
A girl I went to school with for three years died yesterday morning as a result of drunk driving. No, we weren't friends. We talked occasionally while we were in school, but I didn't really have any kind of relationship with her... But all night, every single time I smiled, laughed, felt content, happy, satisfied, I couldn't help but wonder about her family. Where they are, what they're doing, how they're feeling, how they're handling it, how they're telling other people about it. And her friends. I've always wondering how I would handle it if I lost one of my friends in such a tragic way (not that I want to experience it). I can't imagine how they're coping.
I just wish I didn't feel like such a terrible person for being able to laugh and smile and be happy. Something inside of me is telling me that I want to be sad about this, I should be sad about this, and I am, but I guess I'm used to letting something like this consume me, and since it hasn't this time (yet), I feel wrong.
I'm sorry. It's just insane when you hear about kids you know dying. And in the worst ways. Statistical. Their deaths will be referred to as statistics. It's so sad. Drunk driving. She will be used as an example. And another person I knew, gang shooting. I want to say something along the lines of, "It isn't fair," but for my entire life, I've been told that life isn't fair, and that's something we have to get used to. I can't, though.
I sat on my bedroom floor with my yearbook in my lap, flipping through the pages, staring at the kids I spent three years (or more) of my life with, wondering where they're all at, and if they ever wonder about me.
I saw Stefanie Andrews and I remembered her voice. I'm sad for her family, and I'm sad for her friends, and I'm sad for her. Lives get cut short before true potential is reached, even if that potential is touching one more person's life or saving the world.
"Such is life," she often said
With one day leading to the next
You get a little closer to your death
Which was fine with her,
She never got upset.
It pains me to think that, while I'm over here having a great time, somewhere, someone is hurting. A lot of people. It makes me feel like I should be grieving with them, rather than living my life as if none of it phases me.
Because it does. I mean, especially in times like right now, when it hits a little closer to home than normal.
A girl I went to school with for three years died yesterday morning as a result of drunk driving. No, we weren't friends. We talked occasionally while we were in school, but I didn't really have any kind of relationship with her... But all night, every single time I smiled, laughed, felt content, happy, satisfied, I couldn't help but wonder about her family. Where they are, what they're doing, how they're feeling, how they're handling it, how they're telling other people about it. And her friends. I've always wondering how I would handle it if I lost one of my friends in such a tragic way (not that I want to experience it). I can't imagine how they're coping.
I just wish I didn't feel like such a terrible person for being able to laugh and smile and be happy. Something inside of me is telling me that I want to be sad about this, I should be sad about this, and I am, but I guess I'm used to letting something like this consume me, and since it hasn't this time (yet), I feel wrong.
I'm sorry. It's just insane when you hear about kids you know dying. And in the worst ways. Statistical. Their deaths will be referred to as statistics. It's so sad. Drunk driving. She will be used as an example. And another person I knew, gang shooting. I want to say something along the lines of, "It isn't fair," but for my entire life, I've been told that life isn't fair, and that's something we have to get used to. I can't, though.
I sat on my bedroom floor with my yearbook in my lap, flipping through the pages, staring at the kids I spent three years (or more) of my life with, wondering where they're all at, and if they ever wonder about me.
I saw Stefanie Andrews and I remembered her voice. I'm sad for her family, and I'm sad for her friends, and I'm sad for her. Lives get cut short before true potential is reached, even if that potential is touching one more person's life or saving the world.
"Such is life," she often said
With one day leading to the next
You get a little closer to your death
Which was fine with her,
She never got upset.
Friday, October 10, 2008
This is my 16th entry for October.
And it's only the 10th. Lame? Yes.
Last night, there was obviously a concert or something going on next door, right up against my wall, so I had to listen to that while trying to go to sleep. It didn't go too well. I woke up every few minutes, and I ate a lot of chocolate (weird? I know, I don't know what happened, I just woke up and wanted chocolate, so I ate some), and I cried because I was frustrated.
Around 7 am, once my mother was gone, I grabbed my blanket and went out to the couch, where I slept like a rock from the moment I laid down until 3 pm. And I'm still tired. I could sleep more, but it is now 4:09 pm, and I have to get my shit together to go to my father's house.
Blah. Tonight is going to be a very long night.
Something I've noticed with my characters: my main, Evelyn, doesn't really talk to me much, but my two other main (I would say secondary but they're a huge part of the story) are always babbling and feeding me little bits of information. Now, I either want to duct tape their mouths shut, or I want to beat Evelyn and make her talk to me more.
Right I was I was writing that, I hear in my head (not in a crazy way... or maybe, yeah, but I don't know), "I'm here. I'm just content."
Fine, fine. But I need you to speak to me a little bit more when I'm trying to write your story.
"I can do that."
It kind of does make me feel crazy, hahaha.
Time to get my shit together to go to my father's house. Goodbye. :(
Last night, there was obviously a concert or something going on next door, right up against my wall, so I had to listen to that while trying to go to sleep. It didn't go too well. I woke up every few minutes, and I ate a lot of chocolate (weird? I know, I don't know what happened, I just woke up and wanted chocolate, so I ate some), and I cried because I was frustrated.
Around 7 am, once my mother was gone, I grabbed my blanket and went out to the couch, where I slept like a rock from the moment I laid down until 3 pm. And I'm still tired. I could sleep more, but it is now 4:09 pm, and I have to get my shit together to go to my father's house.
Blah. Tonight is going to be a very long night.
Something I've noticed with my characters: my main, Evelyn, doesn't really talk to me much, but my two other main (I would say secondary but they're a huge part of the story) are always babbling and feeding me little bits of information. Now, I either want to duct tape their mouths shut, or I want to beat Evelyn and make her talk to me more.
Right I was I was writing that, I hear in my head (not in a crazy way... or maybe, yeah, but I don't know), "I'm here. I'm just content."
Fine, fine. But I need you to speak to me a little bit more when I'm trying to write your story.
"I can do that."
It kind of does make me feel crazy, hahaha.
Time to get my shit together to go to my father's house. Goodbye. :(
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Pink overload.
Shopping today, for Trinity. I meant to get ONE thing, one educational toy, since I already got her two Hannah Montana things, but... I go overboard sometimes. In the end, I spent $40 more than I meant to, and came home with 4 more toys than I meant to buy, a few toys for myself, two new bags (they were $3!!!), all of Patti's birthday stuff, and... um, other stuff I can't think of.
Oops.
Shopping is evil. Pink overloads are evil. Money is evil. EVIL. But gas is down to $2.84 per gallon, and no one thought we'd ever see it that low again, but it's dropping rapidly. Before therapy, it was $2.91, and after therapy, it was $2.88, and after shopping, it was $2.84. This is good.
I just got off the telephone with Patti. We always fight now. It's hilarious. I wonder why/how we're still "friends".
I asked her, "Since when do you care what people think of you?" and she responded, "I don't. Why the fuck would you ask that?"
I should've responded, "Because you do."
She isn't the person I remember becoming friends with. I know I should expect people to change, but not so drastically. Bleh.
I don't have anything else to say. I'm tired. Hopefully a decent night's sleep is in store for me.
Oops.
Shopping is evil. Pink overloads are evil. Money is evil. EVIL. But gas is down to $2.84 per gallon, and no one thought we'd ever see it that low again, but it's dropping rapidly. Before therapy, it was $2.91, and after therapy, it was $2.88, and after shopping, it was $2.84. This is good.
I just got off the telephone with Patti. We always fight now. It's hilarious. I wonder why/how we're still "friends".
I asked her, "Since when do you care what people think of you?" and she responded, "I don't. Why the fuck would you ask that?"
I should've responded, "Because you do."
She isn't the person I remember becoming friends with. I know I should expect people to change, but not so drastically. Bleh.
I don't have anything else to say. I'm tired. Hopefully a decent night's sleep is in store for me.
Paper thin walls.
Genie and Trinity came over to visit for a few minutes last night. She wanted to borrow something from my mom, and Trinity had been asking to see me all day. Apparently, they'd been by earlier in the day, but I was asleep. I promised Trinity I would wake up early today so that she could come over and we could play and color.
Now, I was planning on waking up around 9:30, 10 am, so I went to bed around 11:30 last night. Little did I know (okay, that's a lie, I did have a feeling this would happen), my body doesn't exactly... work? I woke up at 3:30, put a pillow over my face, screamed out of frustration (I can't EVER sleep more than 5 or 6 hours at a time), and rolled out of bed.
It's okay, I guess. I have to start cleaning as soon as my mother leaves for work, shower, get dressed, write in my notebook, call Genie and T, play play play play play, go to therapy, shopping, dinner, and then come home and collapse.
I feel like the next three days are going to be a mess. Today, a ton of shit. Tomorrow, I have to go to my father's house and spend the night with him, which will cause more unneeded sleeping disturbances (for the life of me, I absolutely cannot sleep when I go over there), and then, I have to come home and somehow manage to catch up on sleep before Steph and Patti come over.
Old picture. I love it, though. My favorite.
Blah. I'm going to curl up under my blankets, and maybe, hopefully, fall back to sleep? Probably not.
Now, I was planning on waking up around 9:30, 10 am, so I went to bed around 11:30 last night. Little did I know (okay, that's a lie, I did have a feeling this would happen), my body doesn't exactly... work? I woke up at 3:30, put a pillow over my face, screamed out of frustration (I can't EVER sleep more than 5 or 6 hours at a time), and rolled out of bed.
It's okay, I guess. I have to start cleaning as soon as my mother leaves for work, shower, get dressed, write in my notebook, call Genie and T, play play play play play, go to therapy, shopping, dinner, and then come home and collapse.
I feel like the next three days are going to be a mess. Today, a ton of shit. Tomorrow, I have to go to my father's house and spend the night with him, which will cause more unneeded sleeping disturbances (for the life of me, I absolutely cannot sleep when I go over there), and then, I have to come home and somehow manage to catch up on sleep before Steph and Patti come over.
Old picture. I love it, though. My favorite.
Blah. I'm going to curl up under my blankets, and maybe, hopefully, fall back to sleep? Probably not.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
My Xanga post.
Something I've caught myself doing over the past few months is collecting small items that belong to my parents (keepsake boxes, little toys and trinkets, jewelry, notes, etc.) and saving them. I feel myself emotionally preparing for their death, even though I'm terrified to actually address the idea. To be honest, I've hoped since an early age, since grasping the concept of death and combining it with the value of my parents to me, that I would die first, so I wouldn't have to see them go. I don't think I could live through it. I know people say and think things along those lines all the time, but on a completely honest level, I really know that I'm not exaggerating or being overdramatic.
Why, since I was a child, since I can remember, have I been absolutely petrified anytime I don't know where they are, anytime they don't answer the phone, or don't get home on time? Why, for the first three years of school, did I cry every single day when they left me? Why do I still, at the age of 17, still have issues going places alone? Why can't I grow up, move on, accept the inevitable, and just be grateful for the time that they have left with me?
Because I'm still their baby. I'm still their little girl, expecting them to make everything better. Over the years, my mother has become my best friend. I have no problem with that at all. In fact, it was a pleasant change considering the relationships my friends at the time had with their mothers. I was grateful. I still am. No one in the world has done more for me than her, and maybe that is part of my problem. I'm not suggesting that I wish she would've left me to fend for myself at a young age, or pushed me harder when I wasn't doing the absolute best.
I don't know what I'm saying. I just know that this has been how I am for my entire life. My anxiety is killer, and it controls me at the worst times. It scares me, it makes me imagine the worst, and it makes me feel like I have to hold on tight while they're still here, which will make it worse when it is time for them to go.
I don't mean to give off the impression that my parents do everything for me. They don't. In fact, I feel like I'm... independent. I take care of myself. I help pay the bills. I keep the house in order. I make my own decisions. I am nearly 100% financially independent. But she, and he, my mother and my father, are always there for me to fall back on, just in case. They will never give up on me. They will never break my heart. They will never stop being good to me. They will never turn on me. They will never tell me I'm ugly, or tell me I'm not good enough, or tell me all of the horrible things other people have.
They're there to do the complete opposite, and they do their "job". But when they're gone, who will be there to do those things? No one will. And I can't imagine where I'd be if I didn't have them here to pull me back up once I've been shoved down so hard.
Like I mentioned in my last post, my father made me a mix CD. On the cover, it says, "Dad's Love Songs". I know that when I don't have him around anymore, this is one of the things I'll cherish. I'll love every song on the CD, even if I hated it before. From my mother, I have all of these notes she has written me. She'll leave them for me sometimes in the morning, reminding me to take my medication, asking me to do favors for her, telling me I have an appointment that day. At the end, she always signs it "I Love You" and I always keep them because I know that's something I'll need to hear once she is gone.
By day, I'm a ray of sunshine.
By night, I'm an emotional wreck.
To be honest, I think I know why I don't write on Xanga much. The people who read my posts, or pay the slightest bit of attention to me on here, they seem to have their shit together. They seem to be happy, living a good life. I guess I'm slightly ashamed to put my things... out there, for you all to read.
But let me assure you, this isn't the only side to me. I'm not always depressed, I don't dwell on the inevitable, or the past, I don't cry and bitch and whine all the time. I'm a happy person. I just don't know exactly how to share that.
I write often at http://balance-beam.blogspot.com, so check it out if you're interested. It doesn't mean I'm done with Xanga. On the contrary, I think I'll post more. But... that's my main site, if anyone wants to read it.
3:58 am. Time to go to bed.
Why, since I was a child, since I can remember, have I been absolutely petrified anytime I don't know where they are, anytime they don't answer the phone, or don't get home on time? Why, for the first three years of school, did I cry every single day when they left me? Why do I still, at the age of 17, still have issues going places alone? Why can't I grow up, move on, accept the inevitable, and just be grateful for the time that they have left with me?
Because I'm still their baby. I'm still their little girl, expecting them to make everything better. Over the years, my mother has become my best friend. I have no problem with that at all. In fact, it was a pleasant change considering the relationships my friends at the time had with their mothers. I was grateful. I still am. No one in the world has done more for me than her, and maybe that is part of my problem. I'm not suggesting that I wish she would've left me to fend for myself at a young age, or pushed me harder when I wasn't doing the absolute best.
I don't know what I'm saying. I just know that this has been how I am for my entire life. My anxiety is killer, and it controls me at the worst times. It scares me, it makes me imagine the worst, and it makes me feel like I have to hold on tight while they're still here, which will make it worse when it is time for them to go.
I don't mean to give off the impression that my parents do everything for me. They don't. In fact, I feel like I'm... independent. I take care of myself. I help pay the bills. I keep the house in order. I make my own decisions. I am nearly 100% financially independent. But she, and he, my mother and my father, are always there for me to fall back on, just in case. They will never give up on me. They will never break my heart. They will never stop being good to me. They will never turn on me. They will never tell me I'm ugly, or tell me I'm not good enough, or tell me all of the horrible things other people have.
They're there to do the complete opposite, and they do their "job". But when they're gone, who will be there to do those things? No one will. And I can't imagine where I'd be if I didn't have them here to pull me back up once I've been shoved down so hard.
Like I mentioned in my last post, my father made me a mix CD. On the cover, it says, "Dad's Love Songs". I know that when I don't have him around anymore, this is one of the things I'll cherish. I'll love every song on the CD, even if I hated it before. From my mother, I have all of these notes she has written me. She'll leave them for me sometimes in the morning, reminding me to take my medication, asking me to do favors for her, telling me I have an appointment that day. At the end, she always signs it "I Love You" and I always keep them because I know that's something I'll need to hear once she is gone.
By day, I'm a ray of sunshine.
By night, I'm an emotional wreck.
To be honest, I think I know why I don't write on Xanga much. The people who read my posts, or pay the slightest bit of attention to me on here, they seem to have their shit together. They seem to be happy, living a good life. I guess I'm slightly ashamed to put my things... out there, for you all to read.
But let me assure you, this isn't the only side to me. I'm not always depressed, I don't dwell on the inevitable, or the past, I don't cry and bitch and whine all the time. I'm a happy person. I just don't know exactly how to share that.
I write often at http://balance-beam.blogspot.com, so check it out if you're interested. It doesn't mean I'm done with Xanga. On the contrary, I think I'll post more. But... that's my main site, if anyone wants to read it.
3:58 am. Time to go to bed.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Call It Off.
(Original post title: This is a test of Mel's emergency broadcast system: FUCK YOU.)
I sit down in the rocking chair, turn on David Letterman to catch the end, and he announces, "Coming up next, Tegan & Sara." I'm launched out of my chair, jumping up and down, squealing happily. I absolutely adore Tegan & Sara. I went to their concert on May 2nd. It was magical. While the commercials passed, I wondered what they were going to sing. I thought, Probably The Con, or Back In Your Head.
Lately, Call It Off has been my favorite song. I listen to it... all day long, on repeat, never getting sick of it.
It comes back from commercials, and there they are, in all of their wonderful, beautiful glory, and what are they singing? Call It Off.
Now, something is wrong with me tonight. I'm an emotional wreck. I was fine an hour ago, but someone has seriously turned on the waterworks. So here I am, standing in front of the television, listening to them sing, crying like I've just had my heart broken.
Pathetic? Maybe a little. >.>
Half way through the song, an annoying, nasal-y buzzing interrupts the song, and an announcement is made: "This is a test of the emergency broadcast system." OH, REALLY? DO YOU THINK I CARE RIGHT NOW? I DON'T CARE IF A BOMB HAS JUST BEEN DROPPED, I'M TRYING TO LISTEN TO TEGAN & SARA, YOU FUCKS. OF COURSE, YOU HAD TO DO THIS STUPID FUCKING TEST RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING I REALLY WANT TO SEE. YOU ARE ALL EVIL. EVERY ONE OF YOU.
It wasn't nice. It stopped just in time for me to catch the last lines. "I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do."
I can't explain what this song means to me. Something about it is a reminder. It flashes these messages in front of my eyes, reminding me that I wasn't given a proper chance, and that I'll never have that chance with that particular someone again.
Maybe I would've been something you'd be good at
Maybe you would've been something I'd be good at
But now, we'll never know
It would be nice if I wasn't so sentimental. You know those people who never cry, never show emotion? Sometimes, I feel like I'd rather be like them, than like this.
Is it better than keeping my mouth shut?
That goes without saying
I sit down in the rocking chair, turn on David Letterman to catch the end, and he announces, "Coming up next, Tegan & Sara." I'm launched out of my chair, jumping up and down, squealing happily. I absolutely adore Tegan & Sara. I went to their concert on May 2nd. It was magical. While the commercials passed, I wondered what they were going to sing. I thought, Probably The Con, or Back In Your Head.
Lately, Call It Off has been my favorite song. I listen to it... all day long, on repeat, never getting sick of it.
It comes back from commercials, and there they are, in all of their wonderful, beautiful glory, and what are they singing? Call It Off.
Now, something is wrong with me tonight. I'm an emotional wreck. I was fine an hour ago, but someone has seriously turned on the waterworks. So here I am, standing in front of the television, listening to them sing, crying like I've just had my heart broken.
Pathetic? Maybe a little. >.>
Half way through the song, an annoying, nasal-y buzzing interrupts the song, and an announcement is made: "This is a test of the emergency broadcast system." OH, REALLY? DO YOU THINK I CARE RIGHT NOW? I DON'T CARE IF A BOMB HAS JUST BEEN DROPPED, I'M TRYING TO LISTEN TO TEGAN & SARA, YOU FUCKS. OF COURSE, YOU HAD TO DO THIS STUPID FUCKING TEST RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING I REALLY WANT TO SEE. YOU ARE ALL EVIL. EVERY ONE OF YOU.
It wasn't nice. It stopped just in time for me to catch the last lines. "I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do."
I can't explain what this song means to me. Something about it is a reminder. It flashes these messages in front of my eyes, reminding me that I wasn't given a proper chance, and that I'll never have that chance with that particular someone again.
Maybe I would've been something you'd be good at
Maybe you would've been something I'd be good at
But now, we'll never know
It would be nice if I wasn't so sentimental. You know those people who never cry, never show emotion? Sometimes, I feel like I'd rather be like them, than like this.
Is it better than keeping my mouth shut?
That goes without saying
Hot cocoa!
I don't drink coffee, so naturally, I'm going to need something in November with a decent amount of caffeine in it. My solution? Mountain Dew and hot cocoa. No, not together.
Anyway, www.landolakes.com is heavenly. I'm buying 72 packs (or six boxes) of hot cocoa in six different flavors (chocolate supreme, mint, caramel, cinnamon, mocha, and Irish creme) for $36.00.
Orgasmic.
Allow me to touch on a subject I devoted a post to recently... I seriously dislike my neighbors. They are total a-holes. It seems like anytime I'm in my bedroom, attempting to get some serious work done, their music is blasting like there's a fucking concert going on next door, but when I go in my room to bullshit, just to pass time and do nothing important... Sweet, blissful silence. Go suck it, you loud pieces of shit.
:(
In other news, names:
Evelyn Moon (my mom likes it, lulz)
Grace Craft
Samuel (/Sam) Wiley
I love my characters.
Anyway, www.landolakes.com is heavenly. I'm buying 72 packs (or six boxes) of hot cocoa in six different flavors (chocolate supreme, mint, caramel, cinnamon, mocha, and Irish creme) for $36.00.
Orgasmic.
Allow me to touch on a subject I devoted a post to recently... I seriously dislike my neighbors. They are total a-holes. It seems like anytime I'm in my bedroom, attempting to get some serious work done, their music is blasting like there's a fucking concert going on next door, but when I go in my room to bullshit, just to pass time and do nothing important... Sweet, blissful silence. Go suck it, you loud pieces of shit.
:(
In other news, names:
Evelyn Moon (my mom likes it, lulz)
Grace Craft
Samuel (/Sam) Wiley
I love my characters.
10 Things I Hate...
...about autumn and winter months:
1. Last year, Oklahoma had a history-making ice storm. Power was out for over a week for most of the state, and there was millions of dollars of damage. Trees were so weighed down with ice that they fell, pulling powerlines down with them, snapping telephone poles, crashing through roofs... Oh, it was insane. So so so bad. We were all so miserable. And, according to the farmer's almanac, this winter is supposed to be worst than last year's. NOT COOL.
2. The mind-shattering stress of the holidays. Of course I didn't worry when I was young, but once I turned about 12, I knew how stressful things could get, and I felt it. Oh, have I felt it. The past four or five years have been so brutal to my mental health, along with my mother's, my brother's, my cousin's... Everyone stresses about a different issue (or ten), and the freak-out fest is not fun.
3. Though it is a good time for cuddling, sometimes, you can't find anyone to cuddle with. :'( In other words, loneliness. You see the couples, the families, and you feel envious. It's sad.
4. Slippery sidewalks and parking lots. I do not like falling, and it tends to happen. A lot.
5. The cold and flu season. I've found that avoiding going out to public places, washing your hands fifty times a day, and always wearing gloves helps prevent catching anything, but of course, there is still a chance. Now, I wasn't sick last year, but I was the year before. I do not want to get sick this year. I revert back into my 3-year-old self, and cry for my mommy, while not being able to do absolutely anything on my own. It is not pretty.
6. My reversed outdoor enjoyment seems to be an issue to most people. "Let's go outside! We should walk to the park! We'll play tag! Hide-and-Seek?! COME ON!" "Well, what is the temperature?" "I don't know, like, 45 degrees?" "Uh, yeah, you have fun." PUSSIES!
7. When I go out of town to visit the family, my anxiety kicks in and destroys me. It is not fun. I'm now on medication for it, and I typically get drunk before I go, but it can still be an issue.
8. Around the holidays, I worry about my father. Since my mother and I left, he has spent the holidays alone, and I never felt guilty, until last year. It broke my heart that I've just... ignored him, basically, around holidays. I realized what a bitch I'd been, and now I try to spend as much time with him as I can around the holidays. I don't like it when he feels lonely.
9. Occasionally, my favorite relatives (my cousin and her daughter, my brother, my aunt) spend the holidays with other people, or the other side of their family. Though it is a bit selfish, I always get sad, wishing they were there with us instead.
10. The memories that go along with autumn and winter from the past 17 years. The bad memories. The sad memories.
1. Last year, Oklahoma had a history-making ice storm. Power was out for over a week for most of the state, and there was millions of dollars of damage. Trees were so weighed down with ice that they fell, pulling powerlines down with them, snapping telephone poles, crashing through roofs... Oh, it was insane. So so so bad. We were all so miserable. And, according to the farmer's almanac, this winter is supposed to be worst than last year's. NOT COOL.
2. The mind-shattering stress of the holidays. Of course I didn't worry when I was young, but once I turned about 12, I knew how stressful things could get, and I felt it. Oh, have I felt it. The past four or five years have been so brutal to my mental health, along with my mother's, my brother's, my cousin's... Everyone stresses about a different issue (or ten), and the freak-out fest is not fun.
3. Though it is a good time for cuddling, sometimes, you can't find anyone to cuddle with. :'( In other words, loneliness. You see the couples, the families, and you feel envious. It's sad.
4. Slippery sidewalks and parking lots. I do not like falling, and it tends to happen. A lot.
5. The cold and flu season. I've found that avoiding going out to public places, washing your hands fifty times a day, and always wearing gloves helps prevent catching anything, but of course, there is still a chance. Now, I wasn't sick last year, but I was the year before. I do not want to get sick this year. I revert back into my 3-year-old self, and cry for my mommy, while not being able to do absolutely anything on my own. It is not pretty.
6. My reversed outdoor enjoyment seems to be an issue to most people. "Let's go outside! We should walk to the park! We'll play tag! Hide-and-Seek?! COME ON!" "Well, what is the temperature?" "I don't know, like, 45 degrees?" "Uh, yeah, you have fun." PUSSIES!
7. When I go out of town to visit the family, my anxiety kicks in and destroys me. It is not fun. I'm now on medication for it, and I typically get drunk before I go, but it can still be an issue.
8. Around the holidays, I worry about my father. Since my mother and I left, he has spent the holidays alone, and I never felt guilty, until last year. It broke my heart that I've just... ignored him, basically, around holidays. I realized what a bitch I'd been, and now I try to spend as much time with him as I can around the holidays. I don't like it when he feels lonely.
9. Occasionally, my favorite relatives (my cousin and her daughter, my brother, my aunt) spend the holidays with other people, or the other side of their family. Though it is a bit selfish, I always get sad, wishing they were there with us instead.
10. The memories that go along with autumn and winter from the past 17 years. The bad memories. The sad memories.
10 Things I Love...
...about autumn and winter months:
1. My 18th birthday is on November 20th. Not just my birthday, though. My best friend's birthday, my cousin's birthday, and my brother's birthdays. Oh, how I love to spoil them.
2. Though it is a new addition, NaNoWriMo is lighting my ass on fire this (and every) November.
3. Going out of town to see relatives on Thanksgiving. Every year, we gather at my uncle's house, and it is a beautiful day for me. I take ten zillion pictures, I play with my babies that I haven't seen in awhile, I hug absolutely everyone, and talk talk talk. Oh, and of course, eat.
4. Something I've already mentioned in this blog: the first snow of the season. It always has a beautiful, magical feeling to it, and leaves me feeling so light and happy.
5. Breaking out the winter gear! I know, that's lame. But I have this awesome coat I bought last year that I can't wait to wear again. It's way too big for me, but not in an awkward-looking way, and it's soooo warm. And it makes me feel less insecure. Is that weird? Maybe. I don't care.
6. QuikTrip Cappuccinos. For anyone who doesn't know, QuikTrip is a very successful conveniant store in the midwest U.S. (I believe) that has evolved from typical-conveniant-store-ness to complete-and-total-AWESOME-ness. Anyway, they have really good cappuccinos. Every winter, I go by QT, get a cappuccino, and go to the lake to freeze my ass off and spend some much-needed time alone. A nice tradition of mine.
7. Since late autumn and winter are so extremely cold here, the hugs linger much longer than normal, and everyone is more open to cuddling! *loud girly squeal" Secretly, I sometimes "accidentally" leave my coat at home, so I can curl up in the arms of whoever I'm with. Not that they'd object anyway. ;D
8. The ancitipation, and later, the celebration, of Christmas. In 1996, my grandfather died on Christmas Eve, so that has always made my mother a little bit... gloomy when the day was here (understandably). But still, Christmas hasn't lost its magic yet. I save money for the last three months of the year, and then go out and blow it within an hour, buying everyone I know gifts. It is so much fun. And the looks on their faces, when I hand them something when they aren't expecting it. So lovely. Also, on Christmas, we go back out to my uncle's house (just like on Thanksgiving) and the celebration is rather identical, but still, fun, considering we only do it twice a year.
9. The whole concept of New Years Eve/Day. First of all, an excuse to drink (not that I've ever needed one in the past). Secondly, saying goodbye to all of the bullshit that happened in the past year, and feeling like you have a new beginning to look forward to. They say the way you spend your New Year is the way you'll spend the entire year... What an awesome excuse to make it a great day/night.
10. The memories that go along with autumn and winter from the past 17 years. And creating new ones that I'll be able to reflect on next year.
1. My 18th birthday is on November 20th. Not just my birthday, though. My best friend's birthday, my cousin's birthday, and my brother's birthdays. Oh, how I love to spoil them.
2. Though it is a new addition, NaNoWriMo is lighting my ass on fire this (and every) November.
3. Going out of town to see relatives on Thanksgiving. Every year, we gather at my uncle's house, and it is a beautiful day for me. I take ten zillion pictures, I play with my babies that I haven't seen in awhile, I hug absolutely everyone, and talk talk talk. Oh, and of course, eat.
4. Something I've already mentioned in this blog: the first snow of the season. It always has a beautiful, magical feeling to it, and leaves me feeling so light and happy.
5. Breaking out the winter gear! I know, that's lame. But I have this awesome coat I bought last year that I can't wait to wear again. It's way too big for me, but not in an awkward-looking way, and it's soooo warm. And it makes me feel less insecure. Is that weird? Maybe. I don't care.
6. QuikTrip Cappuccinos. For anyone who doesn't know, QuikTrip is a very successful conveniant store in the midwest U.S. (I believe) that has evolved from typical-conveniant-store-ness to complete-and-total-AWESOME-ness. Anyway, they have really good cappuccinos. Every winter, I go by QT, get a cappuccino, and go to the lake to freeze my ass off and spend some much-needed time alone. A nice tradition of mine.
7. Since late autumn and winter are so extremely cold here, the hugs linger much longer than normal, and everyone is more open to cuddling! *loud girly squeal" Secretly, I sometimes "accidentally" leave my coat at home, so I can curl up in the arms of whoever I'm with. Not that they'd object anyway. ;D
8. The ancitipation, and later, the celebration, of Christmas. In 1996, my grandfather died on Christmas Eve, so that has always made my mother a little bit... gloomy when the day was here (understandably). But still, Christmas hasn't lost its magic yet. I save money for the last three months of the year, and then go out and blow it within an hour, buying everyone I know gifts. It is so much fun. And the looks on their faces, when I hand them something when they aren't expecting it. So lovely. Also, on Christmas, we go back out to my uncle's house (just like on Thanksgiving) and the celebration is rather identical, but still, fun, considering we only do it twice a year.
9. The whole concept of New Years Eve/Day. First of all, an excuse to drink (not that I've ever needed one in the past). Secondly, saying goodbye to all of the bullshit that happened in the past year, and feeling like you have a new beginning to look forward to. They say the way you spend your New Year is the way you'll spend the entire year... What an awesome excuse to make it a great day/night.
10. The memories that go along with autumn and winter from the past 17 years. And creating new ones that I'll be able to reflect on next year.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Early preparations.
While shopping a few days ago, I came across something I didn't expect to see... In the back corner of the store, a huge display of tall, beautifully decorated Christmas trees stood, with neatly wrapped giftboxes scattered all around them. I stared in disbelief, wondering if I'd just lost track of time, or if people were just insane.
...Christmas? WHAT?
Come on, it's October! Give it a few more weeks, at the very least! God. It's totally ridiculous. Months before Halloween, we already have displays set up for it. Months before Christmas, months before Valentine's Day, months before Independence Day... Seriously, we live with enough anticipation already, give us a break. We don't need pre-holiday heart attacks. Can't we just focus on one holiday at a time? It would help so much.
Not to say that seeing this display of Christmas trees didn't make me jump for joy. Just that it's too early, and now, I'll be anticipating it for the next three months. And soon, that anticipation will turn into anxiety, and that anxiety will turn into stress, and that stress will turn into "I'll-rip-your-fucking-head-off" anger. It isn't fair.
Posts to come: ten reasons I love the autumn/winter seasons, and ten reasons I hate the autumn/winter seasons.
...Christmas? WHAT?
Come on, it's October! Give it a few more weeks, at the very least! God. It's totally ridiculous. Months before Halloween, we already have displays set up for it. Months before Christmas, months before Valentine's Day, months before Independence Day... Seriously, we live with enough anticipation already, give us a break. We don't need pre-holiday heart attacks. Can't we just focus on one holiday at a time? It would help so much.
Not to say that seeing this display of Christmas trees didn't make me jump for joy. Just that it's too early, and now, I'll be anticipating it for the next three months. And soon, that anticipation will turn into anxiety, and that anxiety will turn into stress, and that stress will turn into "I'll-rip-your-fucking-head-off" anger. It isn't fair.
Posts to come: ten reasons I love the autumn/winter seasons, and ten reasons I hate the autumn/winter seasons.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
My brother.
I worry about him. He was here today, and he was stressing out over work and bills. Last night, we had a conversation about his alcohol and pill consumption. It is getting out of hand. He's so stressed over being broke, but if he would stop buying the alcohol, stop buying the pills, he would save AT LEAST $150 over the entire month. Probably more.
I don't want to say these things again, though. I've brought them up. He has acknowledged that he has a problem. He doesn't want to do anything about it. But I am enabling him in ways... I won't go into detail, but... ugh, I'm not helping the problem.
My tolerance for any bullshit is incredibly low at the moment. It is only 9:06 pm, and I've got a long night ahead of me. I think I'll spend most of it in my bedroom, reading, recharging, trying to figure out what my problem is.
Maybe I'm just cranky, from very little sleep. Hahaha, it's very likely...
I don't want to say these things again, though. I've brought them up. He has acknowledged that he has a problem. He doesn't want to do anything about it. But I am enabling him in ways... I won't go into detail, but... ugh, I'm not helping the problem.
My tolerance for any bullshit is incredibly low at the moment. It is only 9:06 pm, and I've got a long night ahead of me. I think I'll spend most of it in my bedroom, reading, recharging, trying to figure out what my problem is.
Maybe I'm just cranky, from very little sleep. Hahaha, it's very likely...
So...angry...
adfklgabn4l;ytanflkbn!!!!!! >=(
I am overreacting, I think. Maybe. No, I don't think so, I just think other people will think so. But I don't really care. I'm going to be angry because I don't do this to other people because I know what respect is. I know that people deserve repect, but I also know that they have to GIVE respect to GET respect.
My new neighbors, who moved into the apartment directly across from me, meaning their bedroom wall is up against mine, are totally assholes already. They have like, six kids or something, who are always running up and down the stairs, throwing things/running into our front door, screaming bloody fucking murder. That was the first sign to me that I wasn't going to be happy with them.
But, oh, my God. This morning, just now, I am ready to break out the carving knife and walk in their direction.
Last night at about 3:30 in the morning, I was in my bedroom, reading and getting ready for bed, when I hear some muffled noises. I wasn't sure what they were at first, so I turned my fan off (it provides a lot of noise), and I hear music. Not coming from anywhere in my apartment, but from the apartment next to me. I turn my fan back on, letting it cover as much of the noise as possible, but I can still hear it. Clearly. At 4 am, when I decided to go to sleep, I could still hear it, of course, and I was so annoyed, but luckily, I didn't have a problem falling asleep (I'd been drinking, and I was exhausted)... But this morning at 9:30 am, I woke up to hear their music playing STILL. Even louder than last night. It fucking WOKE ME UP.
Holy fuck, I was so tempted to punch the wall as a kind of "turn that fucking shit off, you disrespectful assholes" sign, but I knew my mother would get angry, and also, it would probably cause some unneeded issues. Or they would hear it and not know what it was. Unless, of course, I accompanied it with a, "TURN THAT FUCKING SHIT OFF, YOU DISREPECTFUL ASSHOLES!"
Blah. So, here I am, awake after very few hours of sleep, annoyed and hearing their kids outside of my door screaming already. Oh holy fuck, someone is going to die.
Good start to the morning. -_-
I am overreacting, I think. Maybe. No, I don't think so, I just think other people will think so. But I don't really care. I'm going to be angry because I don't do this to other people because I know what respect is. I know that people deserve repect, but I also know that they have to GIVE respect to GET respect.
My new neighbors, who moved into the apartment directly across from me, meaning their bedroom wall is up against mine, are totally assholes already. They have like, six kids or something, who are always running up and down the stairs, throwing things/running into our front door, screaming bloody fucking murder. That was the first sign to me that I wasn't going to be happy with them.
But, oh, my God. This morning, just now, I am ready to break out the carving knife and walk in their direction.
Last night at about 3:30 in the morning, I was in my bedroom, reading and getting ready for bed, when I hear some muffled noises. I wasn't sure what they were at first, so I turned my fan off (it provides a lot of noise), and I hear music. Not coming from anywhere in my apartment, but from the apartment next to me. I turn my fan back on, letting it cover as much of the noise as possible, but I can still hear it. Clearly. At 4 am, when I decided to go to sleep, I could still hear it, of course, and I was so annoyed, but luckily, I didn't have a problem falling asleep (I'd been drinking, and I was exhausted)... But this morning at 9:30 am, I woke up to hear their music playing STILL. Even louder than last night. It fucking WOKE ME UP.
Holy fuck, I was so tempted to punch the wall as a kind of "turn that fucking shit off, you disrespectful assholes" sign, but I knew my mother would get angry, and also, it would probably cause some unneeded issues. Or they would hear it and not know what it was. Unless, of course, I accompanied it with a, "TURN THAT FUCKING SHIT OFF, YOU DISREPECTFUL ASSHOLES!"
Blah. So, here I am, awake after very few hours of sleep, annoyed and hearing their kids outside of my door screaming already. Oh holy fuck, someone is going to die.
Good start to the morning. -_-
Thursday, October 2, 2008
"Let it be."
Many times in my life, I've used this phrase. As an avid, lifelong Beatles fan, it has been imprinted into my brain many times over. Words to live by, I typically believe, but I've come to realize that it sometimes isn't appropriate.
I don't like this post anymore, so I took most of it off. Actually, I only dislike it because it was so pointless and then so dramatic. From 0 to 60. Anyway, so where there was an actual post, I'm going to put nonsense.
Who likes cookies? Well, hopefully you do. Stare at them, and then go read another one of my entries. This one was weird. Well, all of them are weird, so yeah, just... don't read at all, okay? I don't know. I feel uncomfortable. Okay, this is where my post ends. Bye.
A new plot idea came to mind today. Two, actually. I'm happy about it.
I don't like this post anymore, so I took most of it off. Actually, I only dislike it because it was so pointless and then so dramatic. From 0 to 60. Anyway, so where there was an actual post, I'm going to put nonsense.
Who likes cookies? Well, hopefully you do. Stare at them, and then go read another one of my entries. This one was weird. Well, all of them are weird, so yeah, just... don't read at all, okay? I don't know. I feel uncomfortable. Okay, this is where my post ends. Bye.
A new plot idea came to mind today. Two, actually. I'm happy about it.
I'm going to whine now.
About what, I do not know.
I just feel so... off-balance. Yesterday was such a great day, and I would've assumed that I would stay in a great mood, at least until today, but last night, I couldn't. I started feeling so shitty. I was getting really angry at absolutely everything for no reason, I was crying, I wasn't talking to anyone, and all I wanted to do was go to my room and lay in bed and not be forced to move for a few hours. So I did that, and I fell asleep until 10 this morning.
I didn't sleep off the feeling, though. Something is bothering me, really badly. I just can't figure out what it is.
I don't know what I want. I don't know what I need, even. At this point, I should be able to read myself better than anyone, but I can't. I can't read my own emotions, I can't figure out my wants/needs, and neither can anyone else. What the hell is it about me that has left me so confused and unable to untangle myself enough to figure myself out?
I want to move. I want to go somewhere. I want a new setting, new surroundings, new things to discover. I feel like I've seen everything here enough. Everything is too familiar. There is nothing new to discover where I am. I've discovered all there is. I'm ready to move on. I want new surpises, new scenes of beauty, new people, new feelings.
I've been thinking about moving for a long time now. I've been ready for a long time now. And you know, I don't think I'd even have to move. Just to get the fuck away from this place, I'm so sick of it, for just a few days, I would be temporarily satisfied. I would stop hating this place so much, I would stop wanting to run so badly. I could hold off on getting away for another few months, few years, something. I just need a break.
I've been thinking of asking my mother if she'll go on a small trip with me for my birthday. I honestly do not care where we go, as long as it is far from here. Somewhere out of the state of Oklahoma, somewhere I've never been (which is pretty much everywhere). I've been hesitant about asking her, though, because I know she'll tell me no. I'll be disappointed. And then I won't really care about my birthday. I'll have NaNo to focus on then anyway. November 20th. But still, I would love to get out of here for a weekend or something. Anything.
Blaaaaaaah. That is how I feel. I have bags under my eyes. I don't have anything else to say.
I just feel so... off-balance. Yesterday was such a great day, and I would've assumed that I would stay in a great mood, at least until today, but last night, I couldn't. I started feeling so shitty. I was getting really angry at absolutely everything for no reason, I was crying, I wasn't talking to anyone, and all I wanted to do was go to my room and lay in bed and not be forced to move for a few hours. So I did that, and I fell asleep until 10 this morning.
I didn't sleep off the feeling, though. Something is bothering me, really badly. I just can't figure out what it is.
I don't know what I want. I don't know what I need, even. At this point, I should be able to read myself better than anyone, but I can't. I can't read my own emotions, I can't figure out my wants/needs, and neither can anyone else. What the hell is it about me that has left me so confused and unable to untangle myself enough to figure myself out?
I want to move. I want to go somewhere. I want a new setting, new surroundings, new things to discover. I feel like I've seen everything here enough. Everything is too familiar. There is nothing new to discover where I am. I've discovered all there is. I'm ready to move on. I want new surpises, new scenes of beauty, new people, new feelings.
I've been thinking about moving for a long time now. I've been ready for a long time now. And you know, I don't think I'd even have to move. Just to get the fuck away from this place, I'm so sick of it, for just a few days, I would be temporarily satisfied. I would stop hating this place so much, I would stop wanting to run so badly. I could hold off on getting away for another few months, few years, something. I just need a break.
I've been thinking of asking my mother if she'll go on a small trip with me for my birthday. I honestly do not care where we go, as long as it is far from here. Somewhere out of the state of Oklahoma, somewhere I've never been (which is pretty much everywhere). I've been hesitant about asking her, though, because I know she'll tell me no. I'll be disappointed. And then I won't really care about my birthday. I'll have NaNo to focus on then anyway. November 20th. But still, I would love to get out of here for a weekend or something. Anything.
Blaaaaaaah. That is how I feel. I have bags under my eyes. I don't have anything else to say.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
My day in photos (long and pointless)!
11 am, driving toward downtown, listening to Rihanna with my mother. FUN!
The credit union. MONEY!
Best shop in the entire UNIVERSE. I've been going since I was in the womb. They sell so many awesome things, and there's an "18+ only" room that I've been aching to go into. :'( Only two and a half more months!
While there, I bought a Belle & Sebastian CD and 20 incense. And saw this gorgeous guy that I have a crush on, and have had a crush on for a very long time. Oh yeah.
Where are the flowers? :(
Weirdest thing I saw all day. Well, other than the truck I saw that said, "SIEMEN" on it. Yes, I'm still immature enough to laugh at that, and so is my mother. I got a picture of that, too, but decided against posting it. Anyway, "I'd rather an egg." What?!
This is a beautiful park near downtown. I fell in love with it today. If I were a bum, I would sleep on a bench there.
Hello, Mother!
My brother's apartment building, which I lived in (with him and my mother) for two months. I will never EVER go inside that building again. Horrible memories. >.>
Parking garage at the hospital.
I can't take credit for this photo. My brother noticed it and asked for the camera, ran over, and snapped the picture. I love it.
This was when we were leaving the breast cancer center. My mother had a mammogram AND an ultrasound, and they found nothing to be worried about! YESSSS! I feel so much better.
I was taking pictures, and my mother and brother were leaving me.
Gas is down.
We went to the grocery store, and I saw these super awesome cookies. I WANT.
Yummm... Oh, storytime. While filling up on gas, a girl walked over to my mother and I and it seemed as if she knew is. Apparently, she and I went to school together... ten or so years ago. She asked, "How is Hollee?" and my mother answered, "We haven't talked to Hollee in years." Hollee was my best friend for about two years when I was younger. We were so close, and she was such a great person, but we lost touch. A few people had given me updates on her, telling me that both her mother (cirrhosis of the liver) and her father (motorcycle accident) had died. So sad. Anyway, well, we went to the grocery store afterwards, and when we were going to check out, there she was, working as a cashier! It was insane. So awesome. I was so excited. She told me she graduated high school and was going to college now, and was living with her grandmother. I was so proud of her, because honestly, no one expected that. Her life went south, she was into drugs, and was very... promiscuous. But she's turned everything around completely. I got her phone number. I'm going to call her soon.
After leaving the grocery store, I stopped to see my best friend, Patti. She just recently shaved her head. She's the only female I know who can pull it off without looking too boy-ish. I think she's beautiful. I miss her. We don't get to see each other a lot. I got hugs!
There is a lake surrounding my apartment complex, and this part of it is directly behind my building. I walked around and sat along the edge (after going to the mailbox and getting my Lisa Frank coloring book that I bought on eBay!) and watched the sun go down. It was nice.
Wildflowers.
Sunset.
VERY GOOD DAY!
It is officially October!
Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes! FINALLY!
I've never enjoyed September. Or, at least, not since 9/11. I didn't take notice of September until then. The only month that mattered to me then was November (because of my birthday, but it remains my favorite month, thanks to the addition of two other birthdays, my newfound love for family get-togethers on Thanksgiving, and this year, the presidential election! Not that I'll be able to vote or anything... I'll be 16 days away from legal. It is total bullshit, and I am OUTRAGED! >=O). I remember 9/11 very clearly, though. I was in 5th grade, sitting in my classroom, 9 am, reading a book while the other kids screamed and played and finished late homework, while our teacher was on the phone, head bowed, having a quiet, rushed conversation with someone. She looked frightened, I noticed. I didn't see her pull the television set from the closet, due to having my nose in a book, but I heard the coverage and my head shot up. I'd never even heard of the World Trade Centers before that day, I hadn't heard of Al Qaeda, but it was completely obvious, even to me, that something was horribly wrong. The entire room fell silent, all of my classmates and I peering at the television screen, trying to figure out what had happened. Mrs. White, our teacher, didn't bother speaking. She just watched the news coverage with an unmasked expression of horror on her face.
Turns out, someone she knew worked in the first tower. They got out fine, luckily. I didn't learn this until years later, when I went back to my old elementary school to visit her. Somehow, this came up in our conversation, and I told her how I remembered that day. I think, even at that age (when I went back to visit her, 14 or 15), I still didn't fully grasp what had happened, how many lives had been lost, and what it meant to the country.
I think that this was the year that I was finally made aware. Maybe not fully. I think it is still a hard and confusing thing to grasp. I wonder if anyone is fully aware. I don't think so. But this year on 9/11, I watched the history channel all day. Newscasts from that day were shown again, home videos from blocks away were viewed, survivors were interviewed. I watched people jump from the building, meeting their unfair fate either way. I saw the second tower get hit, and I watched them both collapse. I watched dust and debris fan out over the city, causing temporary blindness for everyone nearby. I saw people talking to their loved ones in their homes, watching this all happen, crying, terrified of what was happening. No one knew. No one was sure of what to do. It was heartbreaking.
Not that I can relate to the heartbreak that the families of the victims felt. Of course I can't. This is a lighter, realization-inspired type of heartbreak. The realization that more people died that day than I've probably ever met in my entire life. The realization that America isn't as invincible as we believed we were. The realization that it happened once, and it can happen again, anywhere in the world, and be equally as devistating.
Why am I talking about this? I do not know. Onto a lighter subject.
It's 1:04 am, and I should be in bed. Or at least doing something somewhat productive. I was just going over my NaNo playlist, which now holds 30 songs. I don't think they'll all make the final cut, but for now, I'm pretty sure most of them will fit my November novel. Here is the list:
Love Is A Place by Metric
Limit To Your Love by Feist
A Quiet Mind by Blue October
Running Up That Hill by Placebo*
Lullaby For The Taken by Kimya Dawson*
Yesterday by The Beatles*
Light Pollution by Bright Eyes
I Know I Know I Know by Tegan & Sara
Sea Of Love by Cat Power
The Thing About Love by Alicia Keys
The Movement Of A Hand by Bright Eyes
The World At Large by Modest Mouse
Call It Off by Tegan & Sara*
Buried Myself Alive by The Used
Piazza, New York Catcher by Belle & Sebastian*
Come To My Window by Melissa Ethridge*
Quiet World by Katatonia*
Southern State by Bright Eyes
Lime Tree by Bright Eyes
Come In Closer by Blue October
November by Azure Ray
The Ground Folds (Acoustic) by Senses Fail*
Breathe by Melissa Ethridge
The Truth About Heaven by Armor For Sleep
It's All Over But The Crying by Garbage
Mercury Rising by From Autumn To Ashes
Sorry Hearts by Blue October*
Holler by Blue October
Juno by Funeral For A Friend*
May Angels Lead You In by Jimmy Eat World*
The ones with asterisks next to them are the ones for sure staying on the list. Some of the songs (The World At Large, Piazza, New York Catcher, Juno, for instance) have no relation to the story itself, but they all give me a peaceful feeling, for some reason. In Juno, "And I'm nothing more than a line in your book." :D Haha. I love it.
Ramble ramble ramble. Can you tell I have no life? Well, I don't. Well, I sort of do. But not right now.
So, tomorrow, or rather today, I need to go to the bank, go grocery shopping, go to Borders, and go to Starship. To buy two CDs and some candles. Oh, and my mom has her mammogram tomorrow. I'm a little freaked out, though I'm trying not to be. Hopefully everything will be okay. High hopes for no breast cancer. Blah. :(
Wow, I've successfully killed my strange-good-weird-ramble-y mood. Oh, and so has http://www.breastcancer.org/. Blah blah blah, OKAY, time to go and distract myself...
I've never enjoyed September. Or, at least, not since 9/11. I didn't take notice of September until then. The only month that mattered to me then was November (because of my birthday, but it remains my favorite month, thanks to the addition of two other birthdays, my newfound love for family get-togethers on Thanksgiving, and this year, the presidential election! Not that I'll be able to vote or anything... I'll be 16 days away from legal. It is total bullshit, and I am OUTRAGED! >=O). I remember 9/11 very clearly, though. I was in 5th grade, sitting in my classroom, 9 am, reading a book while the other kids screamed and played and finished late homework, while our teacher was on the phone, head bowed, having a quiet, rushed conversation with someone. She looked frightened, I noticed. I didn't see her pull the television set from the closet, due to having my nose in a book, but I heard the coverage and my head shot up. I'd never even heard of the World Trade Centers before that day, I hadn't heard of Al Qaeda, but it was completely obvious, even to me, that something was horribly wrong. The entire room fell silent, all of my classmates and I peering at the television screen, trying to figure out what had happened. Mrs. White, our teacher, didn't bother speaking. She just watched the news coverage with an unmasked expression of horror on her face.
Turns out, someone she knew worked in the first tower. They got out fine, luckily. I didn't learn this until years later, when I went back to my old elementary school to visit her. Somehow, this came up in our conversation, and I told her how I remembered that day. I think, even at that age (when I went back to visit her, 14 or 15), I still didn't fully grasp what had happened, how many lives had been lost, and what it meant to the country.
I think that this was the year that I was finally made aware. Maybe not fully. I think it is still a hard and confusing thing to grasp. I wonder if anyone is fully aware. I don't think so. But this year on 9/11, I watched the history channel all day. Newscasts from that day were shown again, home videos from blocks away were viewed, survivors were interviewed. I watched people jump from the building, meeting their unfair fate either way. I saw the second tower get hit, and I watched them both collapse. I watched dust and debris fan out over the city, causing temporary blindness for everyone nearby. I saw people talking to their loved ones in their homes, watching this all happen, crying, terrified of what was happening. No one knew. No one was sure of what to do. It was heartbreaking.
Not that I can relate to the heartbreak that the families of the victims felt. Of course I can't. This is a lighter, realization-inspired type of heartbreak. The realization that more people died that day than I've probably ever met in my entire life. The realization that America isn't as invincible as we believed we were. The realization that it happened once, and it can happen again, anywhere in the world, and be equally as devistating.
Why am I talking about this? I do not know. Onto a lighter subject.
It's 1:04 am, and I should be in bed. Or at least doing something somewhat productive. I was just going over my NaNo playlist, which now holds 30 songs. I don't think they'll all make the final cut, but for now, I'm pretty sure most of them will fit my November novel. Here is the list:
Love Is A Place by Metric
Limit To Your Love by Feist
A Quiet Mind by Blue October
Running Up That Hill by Placebo*
Lullaby For The Taken by Kimya Dawson*
Yesterday by The Beatles*
Light Pollution by Bright Eyes
I Know I Know I Know by Tegan & Sara
Sea Of Love by Cat Power
The Thing About Love by Alicia Keys
The Movement Of A Hand by Bright Eyes
The World At Large by Modest Mouse
Call It Off by Tegan & Sara*
Buried Myself Alive by The Used
Piazza, New York Catcher by Belle & Sebastian*
Come To My Window by Melissa Ethridge*
Quiet World by Katatonia*
Southern State by Bright Eyes
Lime Tree by Bright Eyes
Come In Closer by Blue October
November by Azure Ray
The Ground Folds (Acoustic) by Senses Fail*
Breathe by Melissa Ethridge
The Truth About Heaven by Armor For Sleep
It's All Over But The Crying by Garbage
Mercury Rising by From Autumn To Ashes
Sorry Hearts by Blue October*
Holler by Blue October
Juno by Funeral For A Friend*
May Angels Lead You In by Jimmy Eat World*
The ones with asterisks next to them are the ones for sure staying on the list. Some of the songs (The World At Large, Piazza, New York Catcher, Juno, for instance) have no relation to the story itself, but they all give me a peaceful feeling, for some reason. In Juno, "And I'm nothing more than a line in your book." :D Haha. I love it.
Ramble ramble ramble. Can you tell I have no life? Well, I don't. Well, I sort of do. But not right now.
So, tomorrow, or rather today, I need to go to the bank, go grocery shopping, go to Borders, and go to Starship. To buy two CDs and some candles. Oh, and my mom has her mammogram tomorrow. I'm a little freaked out, though I'm trying not to be. Hopefully everything will be okay. High hopes for no breast cancer. Blah. :(
Wow, I've successfully killed my strange-good-weird-ramble-y mood. Oh, and so has http://www.breastcancer.org/. Blah blah blah, OKAY, time to go and distract myself...
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