Resolutions and Other Annoyances

I'm too dinged right now to make any resolutions, let alone keep them other than one: I will not go on any more diets.
I've taken classes on setting financial goals and other goals but I just don't get it. My stepfather was also talking to me about economic stuff like the real estate market and how it affects other financial things like employment rates and it was news to me.
I wonder how much I am ignorant of. Probably a lot.
I am envious of families in which such information and skills are taught. This is just a part of an overall regret of the way I've lived my life and despair at some things over which I have no power that stand in the way of my fulfilling some educational and financial goals. These goals are vague at best but still there, dying slowly every day.

Last Night

I was sitting at the computer, playing some games and trying to understand my husband on the phone (his is dying) when there came a knock at the door. I peeked out and it was a police officer.
He asked if I had any dogs in my backyard (no) and said there was a person in the neighborhood they were searching for and to lock my doors and call 911 if I see anything.
Then the helicopter started circling overhead and I could hear the barking of a police dog as they searched my backyard and under my house and in my garage.
My husband came right home when I told him about all this. He was in the area, fortunately and got home quickly.
By the end of it all, I don't know if they caught anyone but I was nervous and had a hell of a headache.

Long Hiatus

I decided to slow down on Internet pursuits for the Christmas Season and actually didn't get on the Net for 4 whole days!
Just spent some time with family, cooked, wrapped gifts, all the mundane Christmas stuff that is so comforting in its sameness.
I got some pretty good loot too.
Now I've got to crack the whip and get back to writing on a regular basis. I'm thikning of deleting this blog and starting a new one for the new year but under this same name (dreamspinner)...or maybe not. I dunno.
Happy New Year to ya!

Socially Acceptable Self-Hatred

I just watched the saddest thing on TV. It was this weight loss program on one of the pay channels.
The first case was of some poor woman who had gone through a divorce, was left with three children and when she remarried, gave birth to still-born triplets. Oh and she ate a lot. So much in fact that her snotty self-centered kids couldn't bear to be seen with their overweight mom. So, this gal has her jaw wired shut (what fucked-up Doctor agreed to that?) so she can only drink her meals through a straw. This is tearfully described by a friend.
So, what's next? Therapy to address the underlying issues behind compulsive overeating. No. She goes for some doctors to slice and dice on her stomach to make it tiny. Except this particular mutilation is socially acceptable. So she loses weight and everyone is happy. Closing shot of grandchild saying "My beautiful grandma." Puke. Your grandma was already beautiful.
The second one was ok until this woman describes a humiliating incident where some bum laying around makes a rude comment about her and everyone laughs. She describes this as a positive experience inspiring her to lose weight. So sad that inspiration comes from those who are way too willing to crack jokes at your expense.
I am probably in the minority but I think the underlying issues behind overeating need to be addressed instead of going on weird diets/undergoing drastic surgery fueled by self-loathing...and if you think I am being too touchy-feely about this, here's touchy-feely for you: Piss off!

I Was A Weird Kid

I spent my summers reading books. I read strange books too. I was a bigtime HP Lovecraft fan. I read Voltaire's Candide although I had no idea of what it was really about. I read an interesting psychology book called the Primal Scream. I read many classics and teen books by Paul Zindel. He was another favorite...and I read non-weird books like stuff written by Judy Blume.
I sought out magazines like Spin and Creem. I bought one issue of Rolling Stone only because it had a lot of portraits that I wanted to sketch. I bought a lot magazines to sketch things out of them: vogue, Architectural Digest...I actually read reader's Digest but avoided their condensed (hacked) books like poison.
We didn't really go to the movies a lot. I mainly watched classic b&w movies. I stayed up late to watch old Saturday Night Live shows-the ones with Murray, Belushi, Curtin, Akroyd. I watched every video show I could, even the bizarre ones on local channels. Oddly, I never watched Mtv. We couldn't afford it(and now that I can afford it, I don't watch it anyway). When we got a vcr, I started habitually "renting" Monterey Pop Festival from the library and of course, more classics.
I played some old record albums that my dad left behind, like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin (technically Big Bro and the Holding Company but it was all about Janis for me)...I even had the album with art by Robert Crumb on it. It was fascinating although I didn't understand the whole picture once again.
I filled several journals with depression and self-hatred. I made my way through reams of paper-sketching, coming up with my own comics, designing weird little clubs with my friends that required club charters, coat of arms, etc.
I had a mural of Anubis on my closet door. I painted it myself. Posters of James Dean on the walls...
I was the designated "Fixer" in the house, putting together tables, stereo cabinets, etc. with a butter knife and a meat mallet...just using what was available. I laid down sticky tile, ripped up carpets glued to the floor, swept up the grisly aftermath of roach bombs. I'd sometimes fix emotional situations too or try to. I sometimes had to take the role of "adult." I did a lot of babysitting for my little sister. I learned terrible family secrets that were a burden to me.
Other times I was the direct cause of upheaval. I'd scream obscenities til I was hoarse when I was pissed off enough. I had a tendency to drink whatever alcohol was available. When I was fifteen, I tried to cook a chicken with wine and I got way more cooked than the chicken did...however when offered a joint by my boyfriend, I turned it down.
I used to listen to weird little radio stations. One of my favorite programs was "Gee Dad, It's a Wurlitzer" all organ music. KXLU played a lot of punk, there were college radio stations that played odd songs like "Somebody Killed Mary Cooly." To this day I remember all the words.

Fun, fun, fun

They finally delivered my medications (two out of three anyway) and last night I actually fell asleep at a decent hour (midnight...but an improvement). Then I slept most of the day. But this is some powerful stuff and takes time to adjust. Takes time for it to really work into your system and be 100% beneficial too.
My parrot is happy, I found some parrot sounds online and he likes to call back to them. So everyone is happy.
Medical costs and other bills have been steadily wiping out my finances though. I don't think I'll be able to buy many Christmas presents this year, if any. So I'll just make more presents.
One of my neighbors has incorporated a golf cart into his outdoor decorations for some reason.
I really don't feel like getting out the Christmas decor. For what? Just me and my husband who's not home most of the time anyway. Well, that's some bitterness sneaking out there. It will pass.

Blah

Just putting some words here to keep in the habit of writing, bla bla bla. Gonna go nuke dinner now.
Had all kinds of intelligent thougts earlier today, they ran away during naptime.

Romantic Ideals

This has been rattling around in my head for days now. I'm tired of it. It is getting written out and exorcised.
I've been reading a lot of romance novels lately. I like them, I like the escapism but sometimes my brain just goes into overtime and ruins things.
Like the women in these novels: they are usually slender, and often fragile even if the author tries to bring things up to date with the woman having some sort of career or a sharp business mind. Sometimes they are even slightly underweight and described as such.
I think it's because the handsome reckless men (more about that later) can't push them around if they aren't. You know, smoosh their heaving bosom against him, grab their skinny little wrists while he brutally claims them with his full mouth, etc.
I imagine a normal sized girl (or God forbid, one of us chunks) would knee him in the nuts and shove him backwards.
The next thing is that these women are too innocent. There's never one (that I've read about) that had enjoyed several satisfying monogamous relationships (except for the "young widow" type, she got one decent relationship). The man is the teacher, the woman is the inexperienced student. I am not against innocence. I just get tired of the same formula. Besides, why couldn't both be innocent in that case. What would be sweeter than two(fumbling, but they'll get better at it) lovers meant only for each other?
The men are invariably worldly, experienced, tan, reckless, headstrong and need a woman to tame them. She of the underweight body and pale skin of course. It's almost always the pale woman and the tanned man.
...and someone always has to be rich.
I frequently feel sorry for the average gal in the background: the dutiful secretary, usually. She gets to chirp cheerfully in one or two sentences and is gone, too ordinary for this man in need of taming. I'm sure she has nice qualities though. Sometimes this is remedied with a secondary romance story, kind of where the second-class (less godlike) citizens in the book get some action too.
I know, why read them and complain? Because I want to. thhhhbbbbttttt
More seriously speaking, my mind does tend to get bogged down with comparisons and symbolism and what not. I've always been interested in gender roles and if any of them are set in stone. I do think that, in general, men and women communicate differently and have different, complementary, ways of problem solving.
Anyway, if someone were to write a romance about a dark-skinned full-figured woman who's experienced some mature relationships and a pale, somewhat sickly man who hasn't "claimed" anyone with his full lips recently, and not a dime between them, I'd be most appreciative. Here's a starter: she could be the night janitor at the hospital where he's recovering from anemia and possibly, hair transplants.
See. I made it easy.

Very Bad Things

Just thinking about some really "special" moments in my life, most of these are quite old but I just got to thinking and yes, giggling...mostly because I am not *that* nuts anymore.
1. Many years ago: just coming down from some LSD...thought "I really need a drink." Proceeded to down friend's Captain Morgan. Sighs of pity all around.
2. Went to visit a friend in jail...noticed cute inmate on next aisle over. Announcement "Death row inmates please exit..." Cute inmate gets up to exit...
3. More hallucinations, purely unintentional, from psychiatric medicine, start crying with new friend on phone, in a panic, new friend rescues me, immediatley am smitten and launch head first into relationship with new friend (whoops, married him, still married to him).
Ok, that one worked out well. Better than the death row guy would have.
4... hmmm...I think that's all I want to share. Recent royal fuck-ups will be addressed later. Check back in ten years.
Like I said, #3 was not a fuckup.

Although...

So my life isn't entirely meaningless and empty. I do need to fill it up a bit more though.
I was thinking back on how busy I used to be with work, friends, family, church. Not alot of time there to dwell on things and possibly eat alot while I "dwell."
If my life had turned out normal, I'd still be working and I'd be raising some kids too. It seems like that is what has replaced the activities of the single years in the lives of my young friends(from those single years...we are now scattered through out the country). My older friends(those I'd met when they were already in their fifties and up), well, most of them are dead now. A result of aging or being unhealthy. We were all sober alcoholics so they had their extra share of health problems related to past overindulgence in booze and died off accordingly.
So, since I am so goddamned unique, I need to find some unique things to do with my life since I'm not dutifully squeezing out puppies to carry this planet into the future. Neither am I a pillar of the church, baking and tithing my way to heaven.
I think the first step is to get the medication issue straightened out...then I can consider what to fill my life with.

Meaning

Ran some errands this morning, including rolling over stupid payday loan. I got a box of Christmas cards. They are pretty nice with Mary and baby Jesus on them...come to think of it, the stamps I got have a similar pic. It's a theme I guess. I'll stamp some pagan Christmas symbols on the envelopes to balance it out.
I've been thinking about my life being meaningless and I've decided that whatever I do will have the meaning I assign to it, especially if it's something I do mindfully. I'm not drifting into the realm of the ridiculous: mindfully and meaningfully picking my nose for example.
What I'm saying is that there are things that one can assign meaning to or relegate to being mundane.
For example, taking care of my birds is meaningful. From changing their cage paper to feeding/watering to playing with them, I am responsible for these living creatures. I have decided that this is meaningful.
This blog, including its more shallow entries, is meaningful. I have a spiritual life as a Christian, that adds meaning to all that I do.
To suddenly decide that my life is meaningless is typical of me. Hell, it comes naturally. To later perceive this as an error in thought is learned. Well, I'm glad I learned it because by 4am this morning, I was feeling so meaningless that I didn't particularly want to be alive anymore but I changed things around in my head.
So I'm on a fairly even keel again. Welcome to the world of the Borderline Personality Disorder. ;)

Symptoms

I've been thinking about my weight. I gained alot over a few years and then maintained at the higher weight for several years. I now am gaining again.
For years, I've been puzzled. I've never really considered myself an emotional eater but the weight gain didn't happen on its own. Now I'm thinking that I may be someone who eats to squealch negative emotion or experience positive emotion.
I am feeling extremely irritated as I write this. I had to go at it backwards by starting with "What am I not doing?" I am not leading a fulfilling, useful life. I am not nurturing myself neither do I have any relationships that nurture me. My relationship with my spouse breaks even: some nurturing, some tearing down.
So. You could say my life is fairly empty, especially with the only person I am really connected with gone 85% of the time. Due to my deep depressions, when I am alone I don't really do too many positive things for myself either. This blog would probably be it and I "socialize"a little online but let's face it, most online friendships are extremely superficial. I only know people by their screen names for the most part. I draw and read sometimes depending on how much energy the depression has left me with.
Seeking pleasure through food is an easy alternative. It doesn't require much effort and some foods have the added benefit of boosting "feel good" chemicals in the brain if only temporarily.
I now have the knowledge that I am leading an empty, unfulfilling life and my way of dealing with emotions is unhealthy. Now what?
These are specifics on the vague, trapped feeling I've had for the longest time. They don't help. Not one fucking bit.
There was a time that I would be energized to do something about it, to wrest control of my life from negative forces but that time has passed.
I'm burned out, off my medication and without emotional support. My life is a meaningless void.

That Familiar Feeling

...of drowning again. The same feeling of a lowering cloud of doom presented itself when I woke up. Dragged myself into the shower and feeling angry at the world, I delivered a few punches to the wall. I felt somewhat better or less violent anyway and finished my shower.
Then I sat on the bed and cried. I started crying really loud so I stuffed the towel over my mouth. Later on I did work the knots out of my hair and put on some clean, if worn out, clothes.
So how do I work the knots out of my life? How do I get over this feeling of being trapped, of being held back by my illness from accomplishing even the most basic things that seem to come so naturally to others?

Feeling A Little Better and Just Wondering?

Not feeling quite so full of despair, thanks to acomic known as "Get Fuzzy." Who needs shock therapy, excuse me-"ECT", when you've got "Get Fuzzy", another classic of the man-dog-obnoxious cat machine.
What I was just wondering about is these people who claim to not watch or not own a TV? They always come across so smug and superior. I mean, just bringing it up is acknowledging what an impact TV has had on society. You just canceled yourself out and besides, you are missing great shows like Inuyasha, Full Metal Alchemist and Ghost In the Shell!
Fool!
TV, like any other modern device, can be used for evil or for good. I've enjoyed watching shows that show how a handful of people dedicate their lives to re-introducing endangered parrots back into the rainforests. I like watching old "I Love Lucy" and newer shows like "Law and Order", chock full of cheesy goodness, hell, I even have favorite commercials. Like the one where the kid gives the dog peanut butter and it just sits eternally licking its chops. Lookit! A dog eating peanut butter! heheheheee
Come down to earth oh ye avoiders of TV. There was a time when novels were considered low and uncouth forms of reading material and now how many of our required-reading classics are novels?
Bask in the hypnotic blue glow and become one of us. One.....of...ussssss.......

Drowning

I had to take a tranquilizer last night. I woke up today at 4pm and as I lay there, trying to find the courage to get out of bed, I felt like I was drowning.
I'm drowning alone and there's no-one to reach in and help me swim to safety. I'm out of food and afraid to leave the house to go shopping. I don't want people to look at me or even know that I exist. My hair is tangled and I can't comb it. My house is a mess, as my dear husband continually tells me, and there's no energy left for me to clean it. There's no-one to reach in and help me.
I just don't want to be alive anymore but something drives me on so after I'm done writing this, I'm going to sit in front of the TV and untangle my hair and try to get up the courage to go to the store.

It's Important To Know When To Stop

I like reading other blogs. I follow link after link and read and read...considering the ideas of others, momentarily trying them on for size, moving on...blogs about sex, about politics, funny blogs, nostalgic blogs, blogs on foreign travels...then I realize when it's time to stop.
For me it was when I'd reached the blog making fun of Terry Schiavo. That was the end of exploring man's inhumanity to man for one night and of course I had to come describe it here on my blog.
I'd better get some sleep while it's still technically night time.
First though I need some kind of mental enema after that last blog.