Free to a good home - or bad one, i don't care: One barely used uterus. Like a piano, the actual getting it out of where it is and to your place might be tricky - that part is up to you though. Seems to work fine, except for once ten years ago; however, since then, it has been perfectly regular. Requires meds two days a month. Answers to a variety of swear words. Pick it up today and i'll throw in two ovaries and a diva cup as a bonus.
Seriously, get this fucking thing out of me.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
15 Years
Apparently, even after 15 years a person can still experience Crumple Neck. Crumple Neck is a phenomenom i first witnessed and named after my brother Mike died. He was an immensely popular dude. There were a lot of people coming and going to offer comfort and to pay their respects. That moment when it hits you that someone is gone, after the shock wears off and reality sets in - that's when it happens. I saw it happen to each of my siblings and my dad and countless of his friends and family. The hands cover the face, the head falls forward like neck has given out under the enormity of sadness filling the brain, the whole body quivers for moment and then down they go. The body just collapses as if their bones have crumbled. All the times i watched it happen, the Crumple Necker was caught and mad hugging and sobbing ensued. It was horrible. I didn't experience it, or perhaps part of it is not realizing it is happening. I guess that could be.
I've been feeling not entirely like myself for about a month. I feel offended and slighted by completely innocuous things. I feel like i'm on the defense at all times. My brain gets fixated on stupid shit and won't let go like it normally does, like lakes and harmless off hand comments or a not-prompt-response from someone. My inner dialog and even what comes out of my mouth has been a nonstop stream of hateful bitchiness. I've been worried constantly about nothing in particular and seem to look for something going wrong to focus on. But everything is awesome - there's no reason for this. I love my jobs, my home, my friends, my city. My parents are moving back soon, the school year is about to start and the program this year is going to be bigger and better than ever and i get to work with two of my best friends, my art has been selling a little. All these things are great. So why do i feel impending doom? My anxiety has been getting progressively worse for a week straight.
Yesterday i realized that this is the exact way i was feeling in the weeks before my brother died. I kept having panic attacks and thinking everyone secretly hated me. I went to my doctor 3 times in the month leading up to Michael's accident. Every time all i could do was cry and tell him over and over that i felt like something bad was going to happen. I couldn't explain why or what, i just felt doom. After he was hurt, he was improving for two weeks and had one week left in the hospital before getting transferred to a care facility for therapy...and then he just died. He was fine, burnt but fine, and then he was dead.
When i felt that yesterday, that i was back to that place i was in before that all happened, i panicked. For real panic, worse than i have experienced in 15 years. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and i'm absolutely terrified something terrible is going to happen again. Everything could go to shit again. I Crumple Necked. There was no one there and i went down like a ton of bricks. I went to the doctor, poor guy. He was only a general practioner, but he listened and was encouraging. He let me know that even if i watch for this stuff and do what i can to twart it, sometimes depression can get in there so intensely that before you know it you're bawling your head off, hiding in your bed or becoming a defensive über bitch and start having panic attacks. That is how my depression presents, and that way sucks because panic attacks can happen if i'm worried about having one or i remember ones i've had before. It's a sadistic disorder.
I miss my brother and i miss feeling normal. I hate my stupid brain for not knowing what chemicals to produce and when. I hate feeling like a fuck up when i'm doing the best i can. I hate feeling like i can't talk to my friends when i feel this way because i don't want to seem weak or bring them down.
This shit was supposed to be under control.
UPDATE: I didn't find this out until 3 days after i published this post, but on the day i had my freak out and went to the doctor, my oldest brother DJ was on a farm during a grain dust explosion. He was not hurt, thankfully, although there was a casualty at the site. Weird, huh?
I've been feeling not entirely like myself for about a month. I feel offended and slighted by completely innocuous things. I feel like i'm on the defense at all times. My brain gets fixated on stupid shit and won't let go like it normally does, like lakes and harmless off hand comments or a not-prompt-response from someone. My inner dialog and even what comes out of my mouth has been a nonstop stream of hateful bitchiness. I've been worried constantly about nothing in particular and seem to look for something going wrong to focus on. But everything is awesome - there's no reason for this. I love my jobs, my home, my friends, my city. My parents are moving back soon, the school year is about to start and the program this year is going to be bigger and better than ever and i get to work with two of my best friends, my art has been selling a little. All these things are great. So why do i feel impending doom? My anxiety has been getting progressively worse for a week straight.
Yesterday i realized that this is the exact way i was feeling in the weeks before my brother died. I kept having panic attacks and thinking everyone secretly hated me. I went to my doctor 3 times in the month leading up to Michael's accident. Every time all i could do was cry and tell him over and over that i felt like something bad was going to happen. I couldn't explain why or what, i just felt doom. After he was hurt, he was improving for two weeks and had one week left in the hospital before getting transferred to a care facility for therapy...and then he just died. He was fine, burnt but fine, and then he was dead.
When i felt that yesterday, that i was back to that place i was in before that all happened, i panicked. For real panic, worse than i have experienced in 15 years. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and i'm absolutely terrified something terrible is going to happen again. Everything could go to shit again. I Crumple Necked. There was no one there and i went down like a ton of bricks. I went to the doctor, poor guy. He was only a general practioner, but he listened and was encouraging. He let me know that even if i watch for this stuff and do what i can to twart it, sometimes depression can get in there so intensely that before you know it you're bawling your head off, hiding in your bed or becoming a defensive über bitch and start having panic attacks. That is how my depression presents, and that way sucks because panic attacks can happen if i'm worried about having one or i remember ones i've had before. It's a sadistic disorder.
I miss my brother and i miss feeling normal. I hate my stupid brain for not knowing what chemicals to produce and when. I hate feeling like a fuck up when i'm doing the best i can. I hate feeling like i can't talk to my friends when i feel this way because i don't want to seem weak or bring them down.
This shit was supposed to be under control.
UPDATE: I didn't find this out until 3 days after i published this post, but on the day i had my freak out and went to the doctor, my oldest brother DJ was on a farm during a grain dust explosion. He was not hurt, thankfully, although there was a casualty at the site. Weird, huh?
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The Story of Kasper OR Why I Never Trust That I Actually Know Anything
A long, long time ago, when i was in community college in Illinois, i had a classmate named Kasper (obviously, that is not his real name). He was a mega-babe and by far the most hilarious man i had met since moving away from home to a place where i knew no one except extended family who lived 45 minutes from where i was working as a live-in nanny. The family i worked for was (still is) awesome, and while i was content with my living and working conditions, i was lonely. I had made no friends outside of the cul-de-sac and none of those people were my peers in any way. I just didn't do anything except work, create art in my hella sweet suite in the basement, write letters, talk on the phone endlessly with all the friends i had left in Iowa, and spend hours reorganizing my expansive Pez dispenser collection. In the first six months i lived there, the lady of the house kept encouraging me to go to college, to figure out what would come after being a nanny, to challenge myself and put my "obvious intelligence" to use in bettering myself. She convinced me to get an education and helped me enroll in night and weekend classes at the county college 20 minutes from our house. Oh, the perks of living with a brilliant school counselor...
I excelled at my first two semesters although i had a hard time relating to the kids in my classes. They were all several years younger than me and had all come from very different (far more privileged) backgrounds. Working in groups was like being thrown into a group of derelict aliens. After a year of not meeting anyone who i thought possessed any of the qualifications i require for friendship, and after about the Nth time some idiot 18 year-old boy said, "Cold out there?" while eyeing my chest as i came in from a snowstorm, i came to the conclusion that i was simply not going to make friends. And then, in Spanish class, i met Gata and in Math for Teachers i met Kasper - all in the same week. Gata was the funniest girl i had ever met and easily the coolest and most interesting person i had met in years. I had thought all the cool people were already my friends and that they all lived in Iowa and that people from Illinois were pretentious jerks. She proved me wrong and i am forever grateful. Now Kasper...he was funny too, but also kind of dark and mysterious. He had these brown eyes that i wanted to live inside of, or else rip from his face and keep in a jar. I would get so nervous before class that i almost felt like puking. He would come in, look around for me, and then take a seat as close as possible and proceed to ignore the lecture portion in order to show me pictures that he drawn or things he had written. If i came to class late, he always had a seat for me. We worked in groups or pairs together exclusively and talked about music and art and deep things. After class we'd go to the cafeteria or the commons and just hang until the school closed for the night. If i happened to be looking stressed or unhappy, he would go out of his way to make me feel better. We never talked outside of school but i thought about him constantly and talked about him to Gata even more. One weekend she and i had plans to meet some other friends at a bar to see a local band that did a pretty decent rock cover show. Gata convinced me to invite Kasper to meet me there. I somehow managed to ask him without throwing up all over myself or having a stroke and to my utter delight his reply was, "Hell yeah - i love their show. Can't wait!" And so Saturday could not get there quickly enough. I wish that the world had ended at that moment.
Saturday night i sat at our table breaking my neck to see the door. Eventually i started to think he wasn't going to show and gave up watching the entrance like a hawk. I was having a good old time with Gata and some other classmates when someone taps my should and i stand and turn to see Kasper...with a really pretty redhead on his arm. He introduces us (i can't remember what the fuck her name was because really all i could hear was the blood rushing out of my heart and brain and some voice inside me saying. "You stupid bitch. You really thought this was going to be a date, didn't you? You sad, sad stupid cow."). After the intro, the redhead says she's going to get a drink and Kasper leans in, all smiles, and says, "I can't believe she said yes - i've been working up the nerve to ask her out for months." I opened my mouth and heard, "Oh, how extraordinarily awesome that must be. Hope it goes well." Then i turned back to my table, drank my beer and Gata's, ordered shots and another round for everyone except the traitor and his red-haired hussy. I proceeded to get as drunk as possible as fast as i could. Needless to say, Kasper and his date found another table and spent the whole night gazing into each other's eyes and giggling with their heads together. They didn't even watch the goddamn band, the losers.
The rest of that night went as expected. I was feeling hurt and embarrassed, but above all pissed off. I was mad at myself for misinterpreting his friendship for something more. I was really honked off at him for spending all this time talking to me about everything in the world besides that dumb slut he brought ON OUR DATE. And i was incredibly angry that i had just looked so stupid in front of my one and only friend in the entire state. Gata was awesome about it though - she offered to cut his brake line or punch the girl in the face or follow Kasper to the bathroom and cut his balls off. You know, all the things a best friend does. In the end though, it was me who got punched in the face that night. I ended up getting jumped by 3 horrible cunts over a misunderstanding about the stupid drummer's sweatshirt. That's a story for another time.
Anyway - that is why i never actually believe anything that i think i know. My heart is a big mean jerk that can trick my brain into almost anything given the chance.
I excelled at my first two semesters although i had a hard time relating to the kids in my classes. They were all several years younger than me and had all come from very different (far more privileged) backgrounds. Working in groups was like being thrown into a group of derelict aliens. After a year of not meeting anyone who i thought possessed any of the qualifications i require for friendship, and after about the Nth time some idiot 18 year-old boy said, "Cold out there?" while eyeing my chest as i came in from a snowstorm, i came to the conclusion that i was simply not going to make friends. And then, in Spanish class, i met Gata and in Math for Teachers i met Kasper - all in the same week. Gata was the funniest girl i had ever met and easily the coolest and most interesting person i had met in years. I had thought all the cool people were already my friends and that they all lived in Iowa and that people from Illinois were pretentious jerks. She proved me wrong and i am forever grateful. Now Kasper...he was funny too, but also kind of dark and mysterious. He had these brown eyes that i wanted to live inside of, or else rip from his face and keep in a jar. I would get so nervous before class that i almost felt like puking. He would come in, look around for me, and then take a seat as close as possible and proceed to ignore the lecture portion in order to show me pictures that he drawn or things he had written. If i came to class late, he always had a seat for me. We worked in groups or pairs together exclusively and talked about music and art and deep things. After class we'd go to the cafeteria or the commons and just hang until the school closed for the night. If i happened to be looking stressed or unhappy, he would go out of his way to make me feel better. We never talked outside of school but i thought about him constantly and talked about him to Gata even more. One weekend she and i had plans to meet some other friends at a bar to see a local band that did a pretty decent rock cover show. Gata convinced me to invite Kasper to meet me there. I somehow managed to ask him without throwing up all over myself or having a stroke and to my utter delight his reply was, "Hell yeah - i love their show. Can't wait!" And so Saturday could not get there quickly enough. I wish that the world had ended at that moment.
Saturday night i sat at our table breaking my neck to see the door. Eventually i started to think he wasn't going to show and gave up watching the entrance like a hawk. I was having a good old time with Gata and some other classmates when someone taps my should and i stand and turn to see Kasper...with a really pretty redhead on his arm. He introduces us (i can't remember what the fuck her name was because really all i could hear was the blood rushing out of my heart and brain and some voice inside me saying. "You stupid bitch. You really thought this was going to be a date, didn't you? You sad, sad stupid cow."). After the intro, the redhead says she's going to get a drink and Kasper leans in, all smiles, and says, "I can't believe she said yes - i've been working up the nerve to ask her out for months." I opened my mouth and heard, "Oh, how extraordinarily awesome that must be. Hope it goes well." Then i turned back to my table, drank my beer and Gata's, ordered shots and another round for everyone except the traitor and his red-haired hussy. I proceeded to get as drunk as possible as fast as i could. Needless to say, Kasper and his date found another table and spent the whole night gazing into each other's eyes and giggling with their heads together. They didn't even watch the goddamn band, the losers.
The rest of that night went as expected. I was feeling hurt and embarrassed, but above all pissed off. I was mad at myself for misinterpreting his friendship for something more. I was really honked off at him for spending all this time talking to me about everything in the world besides that dumb slut he brought ON OUR DATE. And i was incredibly angry that i had just looked so stupid in front of my one and only friend in the entire state. Gata was awesome about it though - she offered to cut his brake line or punch the girl in the face or follow Kasper to the bathroom and cut his balls off. You know, all the things a best friend does. In the end though, it was me who got punched in the face that night. I ended up getting jumped by 3 horrible cunts over a misunderstanding about the stupid drummer's sweatshirt. That's a story for another time.
Anyway - that is why i never actually believe anything that i think i know. My heart is a big mean jerk that can trick my brain into almost anything given the chance.
Monday, August 4, 2014
And it turns out...just another stupid fucking squirrel. So it goes...
My faith in humanity has taken yet another blow. For the past 18 hours i've been shaking. I threw up twice. I can't sleep. I haven't cried though...witch babies don't cry.
I've seen things. I notice stuff. I convince myself they are innocuous - that i cannot be interpreting the situation correctly. Internalize it. Forget it. Never mind that i am pretty intuitive and that things can mostly be taken at face value. Seeing a purple squirrel, for instance. A purple squirrel is just that - not a red and a blue squirrel standing really close together. (Listen, i seriously haven't slept. I'm in a place from which i don't know how to proceed. I obviously can't make metaphors at the moment.) Four times i saw that purple squirrel and four times i had myself convinced it was a red and a blue one, or that it was a trick of the light, or that i was hallucinating. But that purple squirrel showed itself to someone else and it can no longer be denied. It's like the hairy little fucking idiot ran right up to me, bit my finger, peed on my leg, and threw a piece of bark at my face. Upon the bark are scratched these words:
I'm a purple squirrel, but you already knew that. I've been a purple squirrel for years. I'm not exactly hiding it very well, i am? Being very still and pretending i'm not here never worked - you still saw me. But you were willing to ignore it. Thanks for that, but as idiots do, i forgot you were the only one who had spotted me and revealed myself to another. But i know you, you won't say anything. And if you do, i will present a blue squirrel and a red squirrel and make you look like the fool you are. So it goes...
Hey, squirrel, fuck you.
I've seen things. I notice stuff. I convince myself they are innocuous - that i cannot be interpreting the situation correctly. Internalize it. Forget it. Never mind that i am pretty intuitive and that things can mostly be taken at face value. Seeing a purple squirrel, for instance. A purple squirrel is just that - not a red and a blue squirrel standing really close together. (Listen, i seriously haven't slept. I'm in a place from which i don't know how to proceed. I obviously can't make metaphors at the moment.) Four times i saw that purple squirrel and four times i had myself convinced it was a red and a blue one, or that it was a trick of the light, or that i was hallucinating. But that purple squirrel showed itself to someone else and it can no longer be denied. It's like the hairy little fucking idiot ran right up to me, bit my finger, peed on my leg, and threw a piece of bark at my face. Upon the bark are scratched these words:
I'm a purple squirrel, but you already knew that. I've been a purple squirrel for years. I'm not exactly hiding it very well, i am? Being very still and pretending i'm not here never worked - you still saw me. But you were willing to ignore it. Thanks for that, but as idiots do, i forgot you were the only one who had spotted me and revealed myself to another. But i know you, you won't say anything. And if you do, i will present a blue squirrel and a red squirrel and make you look like the fool you are. So it goes...
Hey, squirrel, fuck you.
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