When It Rains, It Certainly Pours…

I need a hug…

Seriously, yesterday was one of those days where things couldn’t have gotten any worse if they’d dropped a fucking nuke on my house. I know, I’m probably exaggerating, but that’s how it felt at the time.

It was one of those days where, if it could go wrong, it most certainly did. It actually started the afternoon before and it just kept going further and further downhill from there until it was going at warp speed.

I’m sure most of you, dear readers, will listen to my inane ramblings and say, “What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?! Your day wasn’t that bad! Don’t be a whiny bitch!” So before I get into this, I’m going to answer the inevitable question as to what the actual fuck is wrong with me… I’M FUCKING BIPOLAR!!! That really is the only explanation I have and it’s a legitimate reason for my sometimes seeming to make mountains out of molehills. So, that being said, let’s move on.

I know quite a few people who need to hear this…

Not to reuse images, but the caption on this one is befitting today…

Anyway… My bad day actually began the day before. I had a hair appointment… That in and of itself was a sore subject. I had received a text from the salon when we went into lockdown, canceling my appointment and stating they would call to reschedule when they reopened. I had never gotten such a phone call…

Well over a month ago, I ran into the salon owner, who is sort of a friend of mine (albeit one who is getting stuck up with her new found success) and told her what had happened. I even showed her the message I’d received and told her no one had called me yet. This was probably about 3 months after they reopened. I figured someone would have called me by that point, but they hadn’t. So she told me that she would talk to the girls that took care of scheduling and have them call me. Seriously, over a month after that and no call. So I said screw it and called them. My friend was booked through December, but I desperately needed a cut and color.

I opted to take one of the other stylists who I think come after they reopened. What did I know, I hadn’t been there in 8 months!

So this look (though not as short) was what I wanted. I wanted the ombre style and I wanted it aggressively purple. This is what I had done in March and I showed her a picture of what I’d had done and what I wanted. Should have been easy enough to understand, right…? And my normal stylist was there, so I figured I was safe. If the girl doing my hair was puzzled, she could just ask my normal stylist, who happens to be the owner. I felt pretty confident that this girl was on the right track since my normal stylist said she had explained how to mix my color up. But, when she started doing my hair, I was confused. She was putting purple on my ends and, when I asked if she wasn’t going to lift it first, she told me my normal stylist said she didn’t have to because the processor that was added to the dye would lift it. Okay… sounds time saving anyway.

As the process went on, she was doing things weird. She didn’t only lighten the ends, she went way up to almost my roots. A lot of hair she didn’t do anything with and when I asked about it, I think she realized I knew she was fucking up, so all th hair she’d done nothing with, she used the dark color on those long sections. It looked so bad… She kept asking if I liked the color and I kept dodging the question. Worse, my normal stylist saw me before I left (from like 8 feet away) and told me she loved the color. Did she suddenly become color blind?! This was not the same as the last several times I had my hair done. She didn’t even come to look at it, though I wish she had…

Afterward, I went to my regular diner and the two waitresses I know well had mentioned something along the lines that they could see the red in my hair. Yeah… I could, too, unfortunately. My hair, at the lightest areas, looked to be the same color as a red violet crayon. That is so not what I asked for… And it’s too dark…

I always rewash my hair after I get home (you know, the germaphobe issue) and use my products which are for dry, frizzy hair. I figured I would wait until morning, fix my hair and see how it looked.

I literally bawled for about 40 minutes while trying to fix my hair… It’s not ombre by any means. Again, the color is a red violet, where you can actually see color. Some sections look like a brick red crayon. I don’t have much of an ombre look and I have streaks that run from near my root all the way down. The rest looks like a color halfway between dark brown and black. And it’s so dry! My curling iron wouldn’t even run through it smooth because it feels like that straw-like plastic Barbie hair! I also have spots where there are light and dark patches alternating all the way down the section so I look like I’m a fucking leopard and there are spots she missed completely where my brown shows through as well as the wispy blonde baby hairs. And the cut is equally bad! I spent $215 on my fucking hair! Then that little bitch put me on the spot about tipping her! Yeah, I got a tip for you; go back to beauty school! She reminds me of that song in Grease, “Beauty School Drop-out”. That’s her alright… I’m seriously considering shaving my head because I don’t think this can be fixed in all honesty…

I spent a lot of time in tears yesterday. But, on the bright side, a stuffed dragon I ordered from Build A Bear Workshop was going to be delivered. I had wanted that one for a long time (because I’m a big kid) and had finally ordered one. I knew my new stuffed friend would bring a little comfort to an otherwise shitty day.

Or I did until it came… As you can see, the dickhead FedEx driver that has my route is a lazy fuck. Can you see how drenched this box is?! I’m sure you can. How the hell he didn’t is beyond me. Seriously, look at this thing! And it’s not like he couldn’t tell something was amiss considering that it smelled worse than a two-bit hooker! Jesus Christ! Whatever spilled on it (which I’m thinking may have been a gallon of hand sanitizer) reeked so fucking bad, it could knock you over! I carefully opened it and found that what little was in the box was nowhere near my dragon, but he reeked to high heaven, too! I was livid! This is an acceptable way to deliver a package?! My car was out front; you couldn’t have knocked to ask if I wanted to accept it?! Nope, just toss it between my doors and now it’s my smelly ass problem, right?! Fucker…

So after calling FedEx and speaking to someone who barely spoke English (why…), I received a return call from some guy who sounded like a wiener. Long story short, he told me to call Build A Bear and have them file a claim. When I asked if he could find out what had soaked my package so I’d know if it was something caustic, he said no. I was not happy… He did, however, tell me that I could file a complaint against the driver. I asked what was the point in that. Seriously, they don’t seem to want to take responsibility for poor package handling, why file a complaint? Nothing will come of it anyway. And at that point I was just too emotionally drained to bother with something lengthy and time consuming only to have it mean nothing anyway.

Besides… why should I call Build A Bear when you guys were the ones who fucked up? Huh?!

But I did… As always, the customer service people (yes, you can get an actual human when you call with no issues) are super nice. I want to know what they give their employees to keep them so cheerful all day… Anyway, they apologized for my issue (apparently they’ve been getting a lot of complaints about FedEx) and said they’d send me another one. Which means waiting even longer… I was so upset, I almost told them to just cancel it. Besides, who do you think will deliver the next one? Yup, the dreaded FedEx man.

In the end, I didn’t cancel my order. I did, however, go on Twitter, posted the picture of the box and flipped shit on them about everything. I was in a literal state about everything yesterday. First a shitty color and cut, then a smelly package that damaged my dragon with god knows what and idiot customer service jerk-offs. I was and still am emotionally exhausted from all this.

On a slightly better note…

Eventually I became semi rational and threw my new dragon, Marmalade, into the washer. He had aired out and no longer smelled, but still… He was all fluffy and dry by this morning and, as you can see, is sitting on my lap and laptop, smelling only of detergent and Downy fabric softener.

Don’t judge my mountain of stuffed animals…

So at the very least, I have a little bit of comfort for today. I need it… I’m still feeling emotionally exhausted. Last night, my jaws ached and my eyeballs hurt because I spent about 90% of my day crying. It’s amazing how much something like that can take out of you. I know I should call the salon today, but I don’t think I can. I’m still in a bad place emotionally and mentally. One of my friends offered to go up with me to get my money back for the shitty job that little asshole did. I’m thinking of taking her up on the offer. But not today… Today I just need to rest and fix my state of mind. This may take a while…

The only good thing about today is that Morticia didn’t call me this morning.

She had called me yesterday with her normal whining of having no money to pay bills and whatnot (though you can still afford to buy booze, which I find interesting), how her son and his girlfriend are planning to move out and, with her lack of funds, she’ll have to move in with Gomez and be miserable. She started to tell me about yet another fight and I managed to sidetrack her, thank god…

She’s so incredibly stupid that she amazes me sometimes… Mostly because she continues to stay with Gomez even though he treats her bad and now she’s planning on using him. But she’s also stupid if she thinks the kids will move out. They have it too good there. They pay next to nothing to live there. They’re in for a rude awakening if they get their own place, especially with the high rents here.

Obviously I’m really stressed…

This morning I literally laughed uncontrollably for five straight minutes at the stupidest joke: “Atheism is a non-prophet organization”. Seriously, I just could not stop laughing! I guess my body really needed those endorphins pretty fucking bad to laugh so long at such a bad joke.

So I think it’s time I take leave of you for now, dear readers (all two of you, hahahaa). I’m going to get my malas out, get comfy and have some nice, quiet meditation. Because, if I don’t, I swear to god I’m going to take a fucking hostage. I really need to bring back some inner peace that’s been slowly oozing out of my pores for some time, now. Yesterday it came out in a flood like someone busted open Hoover Dam. So, “namaste” away from social media, phone calls and texts and just fucking breathe…

Get The Funk Out My House… Bitch…

You know, I made this illustration some years ago because I wanted to try dark skin tones and extremely curly hair. Looking at it now, I should have made her hair bigger. A huge afro on a woman was in style then…

Anyway… Did I have a point to that? Not really. It’s just an observation. I only chose this because it best represented “funk” to me.

But I’m not here to discuss the “should haves” of an old drawing that I could do a much better job on now than I could back then. However, I am here, apparently, to make horrible puns of old 2 Live Crew songs. Is that who did that song…? I think it was… That particular song contained the lyric, “Get the fuck out ma house… bitch”. So I just interchanged fuck and funk. See what I did there…? Yeah, it’s one of those kinds of days…

Ah, one of my favorite old original characters, Obitsu the Necromancer. Creepy, isn’t he…?

Anyway…

I sometimes wonder why I bother talking or posting status updates on Facebook. I mean, it’s obvious no one reads them anyway. Case in point, this morning… You guessed it, my 5:30AM text from Morticia saying, “Good morning”. Yeah, it really wasn’t good considering she sent me that… I purposely went on Facebook yesterday to inform everyone that I would not be on today, I wouldn’t be taking phone calls or responding to texts because, whether you candidate won or lost, I simply didn’t want to hear any gloating or bitching. And, considering the fact that the newest Commander in Idiocy has not yet been crowned, I really don’t want to talk to anyone. I grow tired of conversations like that, especially when I have to have them with idiots like her. Nope… not at 5:30AM, not anytime. Find a fucking hobby. Leave me the fuck alone for once…

Besides… I had work to do…

As I’ve mentioned, I’m revamping a story I originally wrote over two decades ago (that sounds better than saying 20 years). I realized the other day that I have a long way to go in finishing this story and I had better start wrapping things up in order to reach a crucial part of the plot. There’s a character that needs to be killed off and I have to do it relatively soon. Not that I want to, mind you. In fact, the first time I killed the poor guy off, I cried like a baby. I assume this is why I’ve been in such a depressive funk and a bad mood lately. Things sometimes get way too personal when I write. So it’s not just that my other main character is losing him; it’s as if I’m losing him as well. And I don’t want to do that…

This gentleman here, the late, great Dennis Wilson, was the inspiration for one of my lead characters. Unfortunately, the one I have to kill off…

Even as a little girl, I had the major hots for Dennis (though he was old enough to be my father). That’s why I decided to fashion my character’s looks off of him. I mean… LOOK AT HIM!!!

I need to stop that… Anyway… It’s not as though I’ve never killed off characters before, even ones I really liked and felt a strong attachment to. But killing off this character, knowing that I’m closing in on the inevitable, has put me in such a depressive state. Perhaps it’s because, out of all my characters, he’s the one I feel closest to, the one I’m most attached to. Or maybe it’s because the real person I modeled him after sadly died at a relatively young age. I remember that day with no fondness… Or maybe it’s simply because I’m killing off a character who I made out to be the sweetest man and I’m going to kill him off in a horrible fashion. Who knows… It’s just a downer, that’s all.

Maybe it’s not just the story… Maybe I’ve been feeling like this for other reasons. I’m just feeling lethargic, depressed and, worst of all, antisocial…

Honestly, I think a lot of it has to do with this election bullshit. Always just a bunch of bullshit… One makes ads telling you what they plan to do for the people, the other telling lies about the first guy to make himself look good but never actually telling you what the actual fuck he intends to do for the people. Yet there are still those who buy into the shit the second guy is slinging, right? And this time around, you just couldn’t escape it! It was all over television, Facebook, Twitter… Hell, you couldn’t even escape to watch stupid cat videos on YouTube because guess what? They were on there, too… Just why?! Christ, give us at least some fucking escape from al the hate and ugliness! Some of us need to have that!

This is my current state of thinking… We’re all fucking doomed…

I just don’t understand the world today… I really don’t. You know what the fuck is wrong with it, so fucking fix it! Why do you always try to fix things that aren’t broken and causing a commotion?! Why can’t everyone get their heads out of their asses, get down off the pedestal you put yourself on and act like the civilized human being you’re supposed to be?!? GAH!!! Do I seem a bit fanatical today…? Perhaps… But I’ve been around a pretty long time, okay? I’ve watched the world go down this steep, steady decline for decades. I just can’t do it anymore. All I want is to live what’s left of my life in peace. Is that too much to fucking ask for?!

“Wear Your Love Like Heaven” (c) yours truly

Calm down, Jackie… find your happy place…

I don’t like going off on tangents, I really don’t. My main reason for this blog was to be random, not a crazy hippie bitch. But here we are…

I really hope that, when all this election bullshit is over, my mood will improve at least a little. Hey, I don’t expect miracles. We’re still in the grips of COVID after all. And if we have to keep wearing these annoying fucking masks, I swear, I’m going to take a hostage. I want my world back. No… it’s not just that… I need my world back! Maybe, if we can go back to normal, my depression and anxiety will begin to fade off again. One can only hope…

For The Love Of All That’s Peaceful!

So this morning I sit down, all ready to rock and roll on the story I’ve been revamping. It’s 5:30AM, an ungodly time to be awake, I know, but the hood is really quiet at that hour of the morning and will be for hours to come. I’m pumped… My creativity is going crazy and I literally need to pour this out onto my laptop. I typed all of one sentence (I’m not even sure it was a full one) and then I hear it… My cell is ringing. I didn’t need to look; I knew who it was. I looked up at my ceiling, asking the powers of the universe, “WHY?! JUST WHY?!” at the top of my lungs. I’m sure the neighbors didn’t appreciate that, but I couldn’t help myself. I really just couldn’t help myself…

I ask myself this every time I pick up that fucking phone…

For those who have been following my blog (or actually reading the entries) I’m sure you know… it was Morticia that called me. Yep, she’s going back to calling me several times a day again, most days, anyway. Granted, I’m always up and have had at least one cup of coffee by 5:30 (if I didn’t, my phone would go sailing if it rang), but that doesn’t mean I want to be bothered. Early mornings are my time, and I don’t appreciate anyone encroaching on my time. Not even my mother… Honestly, I don’t know why I answered. I shouldn’t have… Same shit, different day. “I don’t feel good because _____ (insert imaginary symptoms here)”, “I was really pissed off at Gomez last night and we had it out” (though she never sticks to her guns), “I have no money, Jackie, what am I going to do”, “I hate my job”, “Everyone is against me”… Gee, I have no idea why you’d feel that way… She’s even wondered why some of her “friends” stopped taking her calls. Gee, I wonder why. Stop bitching maybe?

She also made mention to the fact that she had to make sure she votes today…

I think she wanted to elaborate on that, but I kept sidetracking her so she wouldn’t. She and I don’t share the same views on who should be president… and she knows this. Yet, every fucking time she gets on the subject, she tries to sell me on someone I think is a complete and utter douche for a multitude of reasons. It’s like trying to convince me there’s a God… Morticia is one of those people who thinks she knows me better than I know myself. Really… If she did, she’d know I’ve been an atheist since I was 7 years old and, after this many decades, if I haven’t changed my mind I probably never will. And when it comes to politics… Well, I have my own ideas on that. Personally, I think we’re screwed either way this time. Not that it matters. Congress runs the show. The president is merely a figure head anyway.

“Hey, I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!”

And so, as is usual when I get interrupted during the creative process, I lost my groove for a while…

The exact same thing happened early Saturday morning when an ex, who I’m still friends with, messaged me around 5AM, “Hey stranger” (as we hadn’t spoken in a while). I messaged back a simple, “Hi” and was then asked what I was doing up so early. I told him I was always up early and I was writing because it was nice and quite in the hood. I didn’t think I was that subtle, but apparently I was. He began blowing up my phone with messages. “I just found out my ex is dating again… It really hurts… I’m lonely… If you know anyone who is single…” UGH! First of all, his ex was a crazy psycho that he should be grateful he dodged a bullet on. Second… why the hell does everyone vent to me?! I’m not a shrink or a therapist! I’ve seen a lot, but I’m not one! And they never like what I have to say because I’m brutally honest. So here’s the thing, shut the fuck up and go see a real therapist or I’m going to start charging you, okay…?

And that annoying conversation Saturday was my downfall… For, what, 15-20 minutes worth of annoying messaging? My creative flow just flew right out the window and I couldn’t get it back. I was so angry…

Yes, I realize that I can just put my phone on silent, but then I wouldn’t know if an emergency came up or some other important call I had to answer. Besides, it will still vibrate or, at the least, I see the screen light up. Worse, it’s an iPhone, so not only does it ring on my phone, it also rings on my iPad and MacBook! The only thing it doesn’t ring on is my iPod, thank god… Somehow I got it to stop disturbing me with notifications when I was listening to it and working on something. Now I just need to figure out how to successfully do that with all my other Apple products and I’ll be golden. I hope… I’m just irritated that I keep getting disturbed while writing this revamp of an older story. It’s quite an involved tale and I need to concentrate to get everything just so. But what do they care about the creative process… Philistines…

“The canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see…”

I seriously need to find some peace and serenity… I thought I had my grasp on it for a while, but then Morticia began calling on a regular basis to bitch again and I lost it.

You’re probably wondering what’s up with the sailboat… Well, for some reason, the ocean and sailboats seem to give me the peace and serenity I’m looking for. Honestly, I wish I could go for a sail or somewhere to watch them gently drifting along, but it’s November and, where I am, it’s starting to get cold. Not that the cold bothers me because it doesn’t. It just means there won’t be anyone out on the water in their boats for me to watch. It’s one of my dreams to have my own one day, but it’s just that… a dream.

Maybe someone should invent an app that gives you a realistic view of sailboats cutting through the ocean waves with the sounds of the surf an seagulls… Yeah… I’d download the shit out of something like that. I really need that bit of serenity at my fingertips.

A Public Service Message Brought To You By The Letter “M”…

Smoke up if you really want to understand…

Well… I’m not sure if this is a public service message or simply just me rambling on like I do… And this time, I’ll be rambling about a somewhat controversial subject. Whether you call it pot, weed, Mary Jane, reefer… what we’re talking about is Marijuana.

Marijuana, as people are finally learning, has a lot of amazing properties and uses. It clears up glaucoma, helps alleviate pain for cancer patients and can actually help, in some cases, to put it into remission. It helps those suffering from mental illnesses for whom big pharma chemicals do absolutely jack shit.

I’ve been an advocate for marijuana use since I was 17. I had figured out at 16 that the trouble afflicting me was bipolar disorder (which was called manic-depression then). When I was 17, I tried pot for the first time and it was a mind blowing experience, though not for the reason some of you think. I remember clearly one prevalent thought in my mind that afternoon: Is this what happy feels like…? Literally, until that day, I had no idea what happy felt like.

The reason for today’s post is because, for the umpteenth time, I watched the movie Reefer Madness last night. If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching this propaganda film that is more like the funniest fucking comedy you’ll ever see in today’s age, I’ll give you a quick rundown.

The film literally starts out as any other propaganda movie, giving you warning about the subject of offense, the deadly thing they’re trying to keep you safe from. From there, it begins the tale of a brother and sister. Nice, clean-cut, level headed teens of 1936. The brother gets involved with a reefer dealer and begins attending wild parties at the apartment he shares with his girl. Eventually, he invites his sister’s beau to join in the fun. Soon, both are hooked on reefer, the sister’s beau at one point getting so high he ends up fucking a girl he hardly knows, betraying his girl. He comes out of the bedroom and he finds his girl being pawed by one of the other patrons. But he sees it differently in his drug-addled state. He begins a fight with the patron, the man of the apartment comes out with a gun. He and the beau struggle, the gun goes off and kills the young man’s girl. He’s told he killed her, which he believes, and gets convicted at trial. However, the girl he slept with as well as the patron pawing the dead girl finally speak up and get him cleared. A semi-happy end…

So… let’s delve into why this is the funniest fucking propaganda film in the history of film.

First of all, you can tell that not one person who worked on this film had ever smoked pot or knew anyone who did. They had a twisted view of the effects of marijuana (which, supposedly, they spelled as they did in this burb because it was made before the invention of the letter J, which I find hard to believe). Okay, yeah, you may get one hell of a case of the giggles. But these people were laughing like maniacal maniacs. They smoked as is they we greedy, fiendish people. They danced wildly, played piano at top speed, hit people with their cars and took off without even thinking about it. They warn that people began laughing and acting wildly, hallucinated then became prone to violent, angry outbursts… and consequently ended up shooting and killing sweet, innocent young women. Now, I don’t know about the rest of you but, aside from the occasional fit of the giggles when something stupid struck me funny, I never had any of these other effects, especially killing people. Hell, I’m usually so fucked up I couldn’t swat a fly.

See this jackass? Yup, you can blame him.

Marijuana actually got such a bad rap partly due to this jackass, Victor Licata. According to IMDB, the movie Reefer Madness (as well as a few others) were inspired by his story.

In the early 30s, Victor snapped the fuck out and killed his entire family by burying an axe into their heads. As he was a marijuana user, the media immediately jumped on the “Drugs are bad, m’kaaaay” bandwagon and deemed pot as more addictive and dangerous that heroine and cocaine. Um… yeah. I have serious doubts on that… In any case, that was what they blamed his killing spree on until he finally received a psychiatric evaluation that found he was schizophrenic. In fact, his brother and a few other family members were diagnosed with the same mental illness. But it didn’t seem to matter. The press made mention of this in subsequent articles, but the main focus of his issues were marijuana use. And this was why it was decided that marijuana had to be made highly illegal. So yeah, this is the guy you can blame for that…

I don’t know about you guys, but my experiences with pot were more like a Cheech and Chong movie rather than the propaganda movies. Otherwise known as fucked up and happy.

It took such a long time for people to realize that marijuana was more than just a way for people to get high and escape their troubles for a little while. Finally, scientists and researchers have realized that marijuana is actually a very effective all natural drug that can help people suffering from mental illness. Well shit, I could have told them that decades ago when I first started smoking it! Provided you get the right kind (some can exacerbate your issues), pot can help ease depression and anxiety, help with severe OCD… all without the need for chemicals that can cause annoying, serious or even life threatening side effects. Which would you prefer? Taking dangerous chemicals or a plant that’s all natural and still grows wild all over the world to this day?

Story of my life even when I’m not high…

And thus ends today’s public service message…

Listen, no matter what your views on marijuana use are, you have to admit that Reefer Madness is more an old comedy from 1936 and less the propaganda anti-marijuana film it was meant to be. I have no idea how it was viewed at the time, but I do know that today it’s one of the funniest fucking things you’ll ever see. So, if you want a good laugh, give it a watch. I know I do whenever I’m feeling a bit down and need to laugh my ass off.

And, with the US election coming up in a few days, who doesn’t need a good laugh? Between COVID-19 and the crazy ass election, we all could use a good laugh right about now. So stop reading this, go find that movie and give it a watch. As for me… I’m going to go back to working on some artistic endeavors, watch The Twilight Zone and enjoy this cold, windy Monday morning.

It’s The Most Creepy Ass Time Of The Year!

It’s October!!!

This is one of my favorite times of year… The air gets cool and brisk, the leaves begin to change and speckle the landscape with beautiful colors. Spooky decorations adorn houses, creepy costumes are bought, horror movies are on every channel.

And this is the time when I break out my gigantic book, Complete Tales And Poems, Edgar Allan Poe and spend the entire month reading my favorites over and over again. Yes, this is what I do for fun, people… I also read Shakespeare, Beowulf, The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri… for fun. I never said I was normal… A lot of people seem to find that a bit unsettling. I suppose I don’t seem like the type of person who would read these kinds of things for pure enjoyment; I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I don’t really tell anyone…

I don’t care who you are; everyone is familiar with something Poe has written. The Tell-Tale Heart, The Masque of the Red Death, The Cask of Amontillado, The Fall Of The House Of Usher, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Black Cat, The Raven… Everyone knows at least one of his works. And, honestly, they’re just as creepy and disturbing now as they were back in his day. It’s just that they weren’t appreciated back then… Poe was way ahead of his time. Truly the master of the macabre.

And, just for the hell of it, to celebrate October, I’d like to share my favorite poem with you:

I heed not that my earthly lot Hath little of earth in it– That years of love have been forgot In the hatred of a minute:– I mourn not that the desolate Are happier, sweet, than I, But that you sorrow for my fate Who am a passer by.

I have no clue why, but that’s my favorite poem. I think it’s actually quite lovely in a way…

One of the funniest movies you’ll ever watch

And what would Halloween be without some weird ass movies…?

One of my favorites is Arsenic and Old Lace. It may surprise you to know that the suave and sophisticated Cary Grant actually did comedy originally and was really good at it!

For those who have never heard of this movie, indulge me… It takes place on Halloween and avid anti marriage writer Mortimer Brewster (incognito, of course) goes to the courthouse to marry his sweetheart, Elaine. Afterward, he stops in to see his two spinster aunts who are the sweetest, most adorable little old ladies you’ve ever seen. Also living in the house is their brother Teddy, who thinks he’s Theodore Roosevelt. But, as Mortimer soon learns, Teddy isn’t the only looney in the house. He learns that his aunts have been murdering gentlemen travelers who have no money and come to rent a room from them. They then have Teddy dig a hole in the basement (which he thinks is Panama) for yet another malaria victim. That’s not bad enough news for Mortimer… His brother, Johnathan soon turns up with a “doctor” associate and a dead body… Poor Mortimer has to try and keep his new bride at bay while he tries to figure out how to fix the mess that is his insane family. I won’t spoil the fun… Watch the movie; I promise you’ll enjoy it.

Another movie I like to watch at this time of year is Tod Browning’s Freaks…

Do take into account that this movie was released in 1932, so there was no such thing as being “politically correct”, so don’t get offended by the fact that they referred to these people as “freaks”. That’s actually what they were considered at the time. And don’t feel sorry for them, thinking they were exploited. On the contrary… Most of these disabled people were dumped by their families and had nothing and no way to support themselves. Freak shows were a way for them to make a living, have a purpose and find a family among their fellow “freaks”.

If I remember correctly, YouTube has the full movie you can watch. But I’ll give you fair warning… There was no CGI then, no trick photography was used. These were real “freaks” used. Some of them are a little disturbing simply because you can’t figure out how in the hell they survived or how they functioned biologically (look up Johnny Eck). The storyline is a bit lame, but I still love it.

On a totally different note…

I had my two week follow-up appointment with the foot doctor yesterday. And I was discharged! My toes are doing great and I don’t have to go back (for this, anyway)!

I took this picture right before he came into the room to show how they look. The left one is completely healed, though still a bit sensitive. I know, it still looks as if I have a nail. For how badly the nail was curled into the sides and top of my toe, I don’t know that those deep creases will ever go completely away. Maybe over the years, but who knows… The right toe has finally scabbed over and, as you can see, was dry as fuck! That’s actually quite painful in and of itself. The good news is that I was told I can start putting lotion on it to keep it moist and hep the scab to eventually come off. Sweet! That dry skin was killing me! So I used my Hempz lotion last night and this morning it’s a night and day difference. Plus no more pain when I walk! Woot!

And… today also starts the update in Animal Crossing New Horizons! The October/Halloween update brings some pretty amazing things with it, so I’m very anxious to play and get shit rockin’ and rollin’!

I’m sorry to say that I’m probably going to be spamming my blog posts with goofy pictures from my game… Yeah, I play it entirely too much, I’m way to into playing a goofy video game, but it relaxes me. It also helped me get through the COVID lockdown. It kept me occupied and it also gave me some sort of socialization when we weren’t allowed to be around real people. If I hadn’t had something so involved and goal oriented to to, I swear I would have lost my fucking shit completely. Just something to think about when I’m adding a billion goofy pictures to my posts, I suppose… Besides, I may have some spooky Halloween ones!

“I Thought You Were Dead!”

A few years ago, I had decided to go on my Wii and play Animal Crossing: City Folk after not having played it for a few years because I’d done all I could and got bored with it. So I got on the game and, after killing about a billion cockroaches that had infested my house while I wasn’t playing, I went to see which villagers had stayed and which moved out (If you don’t play for a long time, some will move away).

The first villager I ran into was a cute black cat named Kiki who lived next door to my house. She was shocked to see me, made comment along the lines of it being 2 years since she’d seen me and proceeded to tell me, “I thought you died!” Wow… Thanks for that rather macabre revelation, there, Kiki… I suppose she had a point. If you don’t hear from anyone for a while, you either forget about them or say something along the lines of, “I thought you died!” Nope… I was just being antisocial…

Actually, I had a lot of things going on…

First and foremost, I no longer have big toe nails! I had the second removed 2 weeks ago today. You may be wondering why I took a picture of my nail (yes, this was my nail). Well, it’s because I had a lot of people who commented and said they get ingrown nails all the time and maybe they should get their toenails removed. Seriously… There was a reason mine were removed. I had run out of choices. It was either deal with excruciating pain all the time or get them removed permanently. I didn’t want people to think this was a good solution to not have to deal with having to cut out their ingrown toenails. You should only get this done out of necessity. As you can see with how curved the front of my nail was, it was pulling my skin in and pinching it, which caused a lot of the pain. It was also so thick it caused constant pain. If I had other options, I’d have taken them, but I’d exhausted them all. And since showing off this picture, no one has said they should get it done.

And, lucky me, Morticia has gone back to work after her surgery, so the early morning, break time and on the way home calls have started up again…

Sometimes I can avoid them, especially the afternoon ones when she knows I take a nap. She still calls, but she knows that’s when I take a nap to try and catch up on the sleep I don’t ever seem to get at night.

Unfortunately, I can’t avoid every call… And it’s still the same shit, different day, different week, different year… I’m quite literally going insane. One day I’m going to tell her, “You know, talking to you and trying to be your friend is too much like work.” It is… It’s like the worst job you’ve ever had times a million and you get nothing out of it.

I’ve also been spending time rewriting a romance story I wrote years ago. Not a regular romance story, mind you… They’re a bit dark in nature. Real life is never a case of boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, boy and girl live happily and stupidly ever after. So I wrote my stories with tragic events in them…

Anyway, this particular tale’s main male character’s looks were inspired by a real person (amazingly enough). It’s the man pictured here, Dennis Wilson, the late drummer for The Beach Boys. I love this photo…

My mother was always a huge Beach Boys fan, as was I (still am). I may have only been a little girl, but I had such a crush on Dennis. I mean… look at him! Christ, how did he get to be this handsome when there was so much chlorine in that gene pool?!

Anyway… I remember when he died, drowned in 13 feet of water at the marina. I was watching the news with my mother that night when they broadcast the news. I was only 10 at the time, but I remember turning to my mom in tears, freaking out, asking how they’d ever be The Beach Boys without Dennis. I was quite traumatized by this for some reason… Even to this day, his life and how he died saddens me. So, when I decided to write the story I’m currently revamping, I decided to pay tribute to him by using him as a model for my male character. I have no idea why this was important to me; it just was… I also use Dennis as inspiration for other things, like male characters I draw. Especially the hair… He had phenomenal hair…

Ah, the late 60s/early 70s… Era of horrible clothing…

So, if I disappear for a while, have no fear… It just means I’m in one of my happy places with my Dennis Wilson look-alike character…

For those who don’t know anything about this troubled, tragic guy, here, look him up on YouTube. BBC made an amazing six part documentary about his life, including his involvement with Charles Manson and his merry band of assholes, his struggles with addiction and his tragic death, which is a mystery in and of itself.

And if you don’t know anything about The Beach Boys… Dear god, where have you been all your life?! Look up some songs, listen to them! And look up Dennis Wilson’s solo album Pacific Ocean Blue, it’s fucking amazing how much of himself he pours into it. Pay homage to one of the late greats.

Sail On Sailor…

The Downside Of An Overly Imaginative Mind…

Don’t judge; I’m listening to Air Supply while I type this… Somehow I got “La Bamba” stuck in my head when I woke up and it won’t go the fuck away! I do like that song, I just don’t want to go around singing it all damned day…

So what do you do…? Why, you listen to even more catchy tunes to get rid of it, of course!

That sounds counter-productive… because then you’ll just get another catchy song stuck in your head, right? But that’s okay; we’re good! I notice that, if I listen to a bunch of music, I can usually get rid of the ear worm. Although there was one time that didn’t work… That was when I was in high school and had Gerry Rafferty’s “Baker Street” stuck in my head every moment from the time I woke until I fell asleep for two weeks straight!! No lie, it didn’t matter what I listened to or how much I listened to anything. Hell, I didn’t even like that song! But it was there, constantly in the background and foreground of my brain. I had to listen to it to get it out of my head. Now I find I like that song…

Anyway… before I dive into other things…

Please excuse the gross, graphic picture… And I don’t just mean of the healing process; I also mean my butt-fucking ugly feet. Seriously, they’re just so ugly… But they’re feet! I just use them to walk on, so they don’t have to be pretty, really…

So I went for my 2 week follow up at the podiatrist yesterday, fully expecting a bawling out. I haven’t been soaking it or using Betadine for close to a week and have only been covering it if I have to go somewhere. Otherwise, I leave it uncovered except for a sock while I’m at home. Surprisingly, he told me it’s exactly where he would expect it to be at this point in the healing process. Hey, he’d know, right? I’m not a doctor, I’ve never had this done before… What the fuck do I know…? Mind you, I didn’t tell him what I was doing (or not doing, in this case) because I would have gotten yelled at. In fact, I slapped a few band-aids on before I left, partly to keep dirt out (I wore sandals) and partly to make it look good. He didn’t seem to notice I didn’t listen. What was I to do? The soaks and constant moisture was breaking down new and old skin. As long as it worked and there’s no infection, so be it! Now I do this on the other big toe mid-September…

My puppy-niece, Foxy, smiling pretty for her picture

After my appointment, I went to my sister’s house, still feeling a bit apprehensive…

By the way, this is one of my puppy-nieces, Foxy, giving me her nearly toothless smile. She’s a sweetheart!

Anyway… I was growing more apprehensive the closer I got to her house, especially the closer I got (following Google maps). The closer I got, the more I realized this was a pretty upscale looking neighborhood. In my mind, that just confirmed what I had been thinking… that she and her boyfriend bought some big, fancy house to show off their successes as a nurse practitioner/teacher and doctor. I literally cringed at the thought… I know my sister; she can be a total fucking snob if she wants…

I also had a bad vision of this place… My mother told me it was “nothing special”, but I assumed she was down-playing it for my benefit. She had also told me that the interior was, of all things, gray… What is with this monochromatic color scheme that’s so popular?! My mother also told me the exterior was also gray with a black door… Now, being an artist and having an over-active imagination, you can imagine, I felt I would be walking into a dark black and white movie…

Imagine my surprise to see the exterior was a very pale grey that was almost white. I was still a bit apprehensive, especially the she invited me in (I was just going to do a drop and run at that point). I think she sensed my discomfort (I don’t hide shit like that) because we just hung in the foyer until I seemed more open to exploring.

Actually, the house isn’t that big and it has a much smaller yard than our family home had. The neighborhood is really nice and very quiet. Honestly… I can’t find anything bad to say about it except that the walls are aggressively gray, which makes the house so drab and colorless. But the kitchen cabinets were literally horrible. They were such a dark shade of gray… It was awful! Granted, she compensated with some pops of color, especially an abstract painting she commissioned. Okay, I was pretty insulted by that. I’m a painter! You can’t throw your sister a bone?! But I guess that, since my paintings look like something and aren’t in a fancy New York gallery, they don’t mean shit, right? Whatever… I also didn’t see that antique mantle clock we fought over years ago that was rightfully mine, which worries me… But antiques from her boyfriend’s family? Ugly as they are, those she has in plain view…

Anyway… during the course of our conversation, she told me she had done the Ancestry.com thing. I knew she was researching our family more, but what I didn’t know was that she also did the DNA thing through them. So I asked what she had found. Amazingly, my family hadn’t spread bullshit or misinformation. What we were told, we are… English (which included some Welsh, which I didn’t know), German (Pennsylvania Dutch to be specific) and French on our mother’s side. My father’s side came up Slovak simply because they lump all those countries in the surrounding area together. We’re Czechoslovakian and Hungarian. But that’s not all! Literally, she made it sound like it was a game show and I’d just won a new car… It turns out that we’re also 2% Jewish! I was pretty surprised by that! It’s actually rather comical as my sister’s boyfriend is Jewish. Guess it’s okay that they marry if they want, hahahaa!

Since she’d done this, I had to ask… There’s been a story in my family forever that we were related to the Tudors of France through my mother’s father’s side. I thought it was either bullshit or, if it wasn’t, it was definitely an “indiscretion” on someone’s part. So I asked my sister if that story was bullshit, fully expecting her to say it was. Imagine my surprise when she smiled and said, “Actually… it’s not bullshit. We are related to the Tudors of France, through Charles. So we have the blood of French Royalty running through us.” What?! I mean, obviously it was due to an indiscretion, we both agreed on that… But all these years, I thought it was a bullshit story! A lot of people claim to be related to royalty because of some bullshit rumor passed down, so I thought we were no different. Imagine my surprise! We’re descended from a Tudor bastard child, hahahaa! Yeah, it’s not a big whoop-de-shit. It’s just interesting!

In other news…

I’ve been avoiding Morticia’s calls for about a week, so I decided to call her. That was a big mistake…

She was wondering why she hadn’t heard from me in a week and I told her I was just taking a breather from people because I’ve been dealing with some stresses and I couldn’t have the stresses of others on me right now. She didn’t say much to that… So the rest of the conversation she was literally not listening to anything I had to say on any subject. But when she began bitching about Gomez, I was expected to listen. Then when I got another call I had to take and had to cut her off, she got pissed at me! Seriously?! I just fucking told you I don’t need anyone else’s stresses added to my own right now, you haven’t listened to anything I’ve said and you get pissed when I don’t listen to you bitch about Gomez for the millionth time?! Just like how she gets irritated when she bitches and I give her advice, but I’m not allowed to get irritated when she sits there and tells me how I should be living my life. I don’t think so, bitch! Besides, who the fuck is she to give me advice?! Like her life is so picture fucking perfect that she should be doling out advice to anyone. The only advice she should be giving is a “don’t let this happen to you” kind of thing…

I know, this may be insensitive, but it’s still funny… And I have a point to this…

One of the things Morticia bitches to me about every single time we speak is that she doesn’t know how she’s going to pay her rent, car insurance, car payment, yada yada yada… I think she’s trying to get me to loan her money to get back on her feet. I don’t know why she keeps trying. I don’t loan money to people and never have. And I know she can’t pay it back, so why would I do it? Yet she keeps asking…

So after talking with my sister yesterday and learning we’re 2% Jewish (it’s not a lot, but it’s enough), I think I’ve found the perfect way to get the bitching and subtle hints to stop. The next time she bitches about her money situation, I’m going to say to her, “Gee, Morticia, I really wish I could help you with that, but I’m Jewish, so… you know…” Hahahaa… I realize how terrible a joke that is, but at this point, it may be the only thing that works. And I’m okay with that!

Her ears must have been ringing or something because, damned, if she didn’t just call me…

I’m seriously finished with this shit. I’m tired of having my phone ring and having to not pick up. I’m tired of her calling repeatedly and then texting me if, god forbid, I don’t answer. I’m tired of keeping off of Facebook or even my Nintendo Switch because she may see that I’m online and then start calling me and getting pissed if I don’t answer. You’d think that, by now, she’d realize that I have this mental condition and, sometimes, I don’t feel like talking, going anywhere, being social… I’m sorry she can’t fathom the concept that I’m perfectly content to be alone, but she needs to start respecting that and respecting my privacy by not blowing up my phone. I’m just sick of the shit…

And When The Mind Was Opened…

This… pretty much says it all…

I took one of those weird quizzes on Facebook because I love Harley Quinn. She’s one of my favorite characters and Margot Robbie did a phenomenal job in the role. Anyway, this was the result of my quiz…

When I saw this, I thought, “How apropos!” No, really… I did… And, not surprisingly, my friends commented that they felt it was very befitting. Of course they did! Seriously, I don’t think I have one friend who doesn’t think I’m a complete lunatic, but in a good way. Which begs to wonder… exactly how much of me is really crazy and how much is me just accepting the observations of others? Did you ever wonder that…? Are you really crazy or are you just judging yourself by how others perceive you? Now I’ve probably got you thinking and you’re all wondering the same thing and getting quite the headache trying to figure this shit out. But don’t worry… You’re probably not basing your sanity solely on the observations of others. I mean, their opinions stem from your behavior, so you probably were a bit nutty to begin with, Just own that shit and run with it, you know…?

Over the last few weeks, I’ve discovered something… Someone really needs to make a pill like this because I really need one.

Hell, I think we all need this pill in light of the current state of the world, am I right?

This morning, while I was looking for some funny memes I saved on my phone to add to my entry, I was looking back at some of the pictures in my camera roll. There were a lot… Honestly, I don’t know how my phone hasn’t come up with the message, “Please… stop adding more photos and memes!” If Siri had a real mind of its own, it would ask me, believe me… Anyway… I probably shouldn’t have been going through any of my photos. I found them incredibly depressing… I think the most upsetting ones were from early March when I had gone to see a WWE event. Early March, when we could sit close together, no one had to wear masks, the world hadn’t shut down yet… When I look at those pictures and the ones in the months before, I get depressed. I miss the world being normal.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those people who feel that they don’t have to wear a mask because “I’m not afraid of COVID!” I do the mask thing and I do my damndest to keep 6 feet away from everyone if it’s possible… Okay, to be honest, I was social distancing before we were told to. I know they say everyone needs 3 feet of personal space, but I’ve always needed a lot more. I don’t like people, I don’t like people too close to me, so the social distancing suits me just fine.

The real issue is how depressing the world is to me now…

So, like an asshole, I’m going through these pictures from early March, February… Christmas time… It was stupid of me. Instead of being fond memories of happy times, they were my worst nightmare. Instead of thinking, “Oh, I remember that day! It was so much fun!” I’m thinking, “I remember that day… back when life was normal and things could be fun…” Yeah, it’s amazing how different your perspective can be depending on current circumstances, isn’t it?

And so I learned a very important lesson today… Don’t look back at pictures that were taken before they decided to lock everything the fuck down. It’s more of a bummer than I ever imagined it would be. And that’s sad… I really think I’ve lost all hope that the world will ever be normal again, which means my mental ill brain will fixate on those memories and be depressed by them instead of elated.

And speaking of depressing memories…

Before this pandemic started, I had borrowed some money from my sister. I ended up not needing it after all, but I kept forgetting to pay her back with all the bullshit I’ve had to deal with all this time. I’d remember I had to pay her, then BAM, something would come up and I’d forget. I remembered again yesterday and shot her a text, asking if she’d be home and I’ll stop in after my podiatrist appointment.

Now I wish I’d never suggested stopping in…

It’s been probably about 4 years since she sold our family home to move into a new house with her boyfriend. I’m not an idiot… The boyfriend is the reason behind it. The new house is closer to his job (further from my sister’s). Essentially, they moved because the lazy fuck doesn’t want to drive more than 5 minutes to his job. Literally… And, with him being a doctor and her a successful nurse practitioner and medical teacher, I suppose a grander house to reflect their success was in order. My sister has become a twat-waffle…

After my brother-in-law passed away unexpectedly, my sister seemed like her old self again. It was nice. We actually had a relationship, something we never had before. But, like it was before, she got involved in a relationship and was so wrapped up in her own little world that nothing else existed. And she gets wrapped up in her perceived greatness…

I’ve never been to this new house, not in the 4 years they’ve lived there… I never told her until this past Thanksgiving, when I declined her invite to dinner, that I felt resentment towards her for selling the house. What I didn’t tell her was that most of my resentment was focused on the boyfriend… She said she had known I felt this way, but I don’t think she understands to what extent. I was invited for Christmas as well, but I declined then as well. I figured if I was going to see this new house, I wasn’t going to do it on a holiday. Well, here we are… I’m going to have to see it today. I’m not ready for this and, to be honest, it’s causing me more anxiety than I can handle right now.

And, admittedly, I’m afraid I’m going to do what I do best… make a bad situation even worse…

So here’s the thing… I was born without a filter. If it was in my brain, it came directly out my mouth. Granted, I had it under control for many miserable years. I was so unhappy… Then I realized I was much happier telling people exactly what the fuck I think and I began allowing the filter to malfunction more often than not.

Unlike how my sister’s boyfriend treats my mother an her boyfriend (as if they’re of low intelligence, which my mother is not), he’s never treated me that way. I think he knows better… I know my sister has warned him about me, my temper, lack of a filter, the fact that I’m mentally ill… But he’s a rather timid man who will get his jabs in in very subtle ways. But not with me… I admit, I have this razor sharp tongue and a quick wit. I can also insult people in a mildly subtle way and say things so horrible I can make them cry while wearing a smile.

Obviously I have reservations about going to her house…

I also don’t exactly want her showing me around, acting all high and mighty because she has all these status symbols to show how wonderful and successful they are. No offense, but if success and money turn you into that much of a fucking douche, I’ll stay poor and have little to my name. I’m happy with what little I have. Sure, there are things I’d like to have, expensive things… but I don’t want them for status. I want them because I like the way they look or what they do. If I can’t swing it because of the cost, so be it. I can live without whatever it is. And I’d rather live a beer lifestyle on my beer budget than try to live a champagne lifestyle on that same beer budget.

I’m not exactly sure what to do, now… I really don’t feel ready to see this house (which, my mother tells me, isn’t much to look at and is fairly ugly). But I really need to return the money I borrowed so that I can get at least one thing off my plate. I wonder if I can just do a drive-by and drop it off… Would that be rude…? The better question is, do I really give a fuck if it is rude…?! Maybe I’ll play it by ear. If seeing the outside upsets me, I’ll just drop it and run. Yeah, I know. I’m pathetic…

Ah, to be a sunflower…

I could use some energy right now, especially some positive energy.

Honestly, I’m just sick of people in general. I’m really growing to hate leaving my house, which is why I only leave it, for the most part, just to go to doctor’s appointments. And you’re lucky I’m willing to do that…

When did we become a world full of stupid people and assholes? People who question your life choices when they themselves lead less than desirable lives, people who have a mask they wear to show society a face other than their true one so they feel special and important, people who will argue that your opinion is wrong when it’s just your opinion and opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got one… I’m just so fucking sick of everything and everyone. It’s affecting my mental state in a bad way and squelching my creativity. That’s why I’ve been isolating myself. I haven’t been taking calls, I don’t respond to texts often if at all, and I’ve been telling people off. I’m tired of playing nice. The gloves are off, man…

I Feel Rather Superior Today…

I just can’t see anyone but Linda Carter in this role…

I know what you’re thinking… But try to understand. I’m fucking old… When I think of Wonder Woman, this is who I envision, Linda Carter. I watched this show growing up, so to me, she’ll always be the only Wonder Woman. Although the new version has a much better outfit…

Okay, she’s making me feel bad and ruining my manic high… I used to have a body like that before menopause… *sigh*

Alright, enough about that… Let’s get on with this, shall we?

I’ve been on this manic high since yesterday afternoon, literally feeling like Wonder Woman. Is that a good thing…? I’m not sure. It is and it isn’t. It kind of depends on how long it lasts. The more days I’m manic, the worse the crash after it’s over. Would I love to just ride this wave and enjoy every second of it? Fuck yeah! But it’s always there, in the back of my mind… I know the crash will come and it will be really ugly. How pathetic that I can’t even enjoy feeling good because I know the crash is inevitable. The downside to being bipolar…

Amazing that they didn’t distort her boobs…

That’s better… Drawings don’t make me feel as bad…

Anyway… You may be curious as to why I’ve been feeling like Wonder Woman. I’ll tell you! I finally had my appointment with the cardiologist yesterday (I had to cancel my last one because my town was flooded). I so did not expect what he told me. As for my Holter monitor results, he said they were the best he’s ever seen, especially with my age and the fact that I smoke. He literally kept shaking his head in amazement and said, “Christ… I don’t even have anything to yell at you for!” He was a funny guy! My stress echocardiogram was just as good! He really was amazed! And as for my abnormal EKGs… First off, it’s a very slight abnormality in the electrical system. It sometimes takes that current a bit longer than usual to go from the top to the bottom. But it’s so slight, it’s nothing to worry about and he said I was born with it. He also gave me copies of my results and told me they were so good I could frame them! I just might! I left there feeling young again and very much like Wonder Woman!

And this is how the whole thing started…

I knew I was in a hyper manic state, but I didn’t care. I was talking at a thousand miles an hour, being the overly friendly social butterfly, feeling so young and invincible… It felt fucking amazing! I don’t get hyper mania often (it’s usually hypo mania) so I was reveling in this feeling of euphoria that happens so seldom. I didn’t stop reveling as much as I was until I realized a crash would eventually come. Then I calmed down a bit. But I still feel young and invincible even this morning. How awesome is that?! It’s that sense of relief, of knowing the thing that causes me the most anxiety (thinking I’m going to have a heart attack) is all in my head and my heart is oddly healthy for my age and the amount I smoke. Plus menopause… Damn! Whatever I’m doing, I’m going to keep doing it! Healthy living is, apparently, not always best. Not for me, so it seems…

So I’m still feeling this way when I see someone commented on a friend’s post on Facebook. I knew that maiden name… Back when I was in high school, she was one of the many people who treated me like shit. I was poor, I got free lunch, I wore clothes from K-Mart… I wasn’t very pretty (though there was a reason I never tried to be called pervy old men). This girl, and a lot of others, acted so fucking superior and treated me like I was beneath them and lower than dog shit. Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t hold grudges, but they had no idea how bad their treatment hurt me and how it still effects my self-esteem to this day. Well, I decided to check out her profile and saw a picture of her… Oh… my… god… She’s fat!! And I don’t mean like how I say I’m fat, I mean fat like in this comic! And she looks so old! I’m feeling very superior myself, now. I don’t think that’s a good thing… But next year I have a reunion coming up (I’ve never gone to any) and I think I’ll work out, get back in shape and actually go to this one. For once, I want to be the superior one!

Surprise… I’m a bit of an asshole! But if you’ve been reading my posts, you probably already knew that… That’s okay. Call me a bitch, an asshole, crazy… I really don’t care. I own that shit…

And speaking of shit…

Morticia hasn’t called me in days (it’s a miracle) and I think it’s largely due to the fact that I was feeling really ill since my toenail removal. The stress of it literally made me physically sick as does looking at it. Anyway, she called yesterday morning, so I decided to be nice and answer it. I know I shouldn’t have, but again, she’s still sort of family and I need to keep things civil and not rock the boat. But I really wish I wouldn’t have… Talking to her is like talking to the world’s biggest and most annoying idiot. Half the time I don’t listen and the other half of the time I spend either face palming or making weird faces at my phone… or chucking the finger…

So let me give you a brief rundown on why she’s stupid… Back when Morticia moved into her rental home, a friend of hers was going to move in to help with expenses. She moved a few things in, including her cat, but never moved in and screwed Morticia (hence one reason why she can’t pay her bills). Worse, this woman abandoned her cat and expected Morticia to care for it. For over half a year I’ve heard her bitching about this so-called “friend”. Then yesterday, she calls me up in a blubbery state to tell me her “friend”, the very same one, had had her second stroke and was going for surgery to remove an artery from her leg to put in her neck where she’s had the clots. Morticia tearfully told me this “friend” might die…

The thought had crossed my mind to point out exactly how stupid this whole thing was… All she’s done for months is bitch, “She really fucked me and now I’m stuck with her fucking cat!” This woman isn’t very nice… She dumped her daughter to live with friends of hers, she dumped her cat on Morticia, and her solution to the cat issue was that, if she took her back, she was going to have to put her down. Never mind that the cat is lovable and in good health. Obviously, she’s a flake who shirks responsibility. Yet there was Morticia yesterday, in tears, telling me this woman may die. Obviously I felt nothing… I don’t know her and what I do know of her doesn’t deserve an ounce of pity from me at all. If I could feel pity… The point is, I was just dumbfounded by this. I had thought that, maybe, I should point out how illogical it was for her to get so upset over someone who had fucked her over, but it’s wasted on her, I know. We’ve had many conversations where my opinion is to say “fuck them” and she whines she can’t do that because she’s not like me, she cares about people. Yeah, you care about using them. And was that an insult towards me…?

Okay, WordPress is suddenly fucking with the images, here… Fix that shit!

Anyway… I know I’ve had conversations with her as to why I only care for a handful of people. To a certain degree, I’m a bit of a sociopath. Not fully, mind you, but I do have some of the traits. Not giving a flying fuck about 99% of the people I know is one of them. Yet she always tells me that I’m not like that and she knows I’m not, she knows how I am and that I care for people. Really… She doesn’t know me. No one really does in that respect. I let them see what I want them to.

Over my many years, I’ve successfully found a way to avoid uncomfortable situations and issues. I can feign emotions I don’t have, though not always as well as I’d like.

And to be honest, I’m starting to not hide my true feelings with her… She thinks she’s subtle when using people, but she’s not… Yesterday she told me she got the biopsy results from her hysterectomy but didn’t understand a lot of the terms. “I took a screen shot so maybe you can ask you sister (the nurse practitioner) or maybe you’d know.” Yes, I’m just a walking medical encyclopedia… I told her to Google it, which she asked me to do. What the fuck…

You know, if her IQ is as high as mine, as she claims, why the fuck can’t she figure out how to Google big technical terms?!

I don’t have time or patience for any of this happy horse shit… I have much better ways to waste my time.

Actually, I haven’t been wasting it… Since she hadn’t called me in days, I took advantage and decided to start writing in my one story again! No, it’s not one I’m writing to publish (I have a few I wouldn’t mind trying that with), it’s the one I use for self therapy. I need time to write in it or I start losing my shit…

On a much more disturbing note…

I had to call the toe doctor the other day because my nail bed isn’t healing very well and what the fuck is that lumpy shit on the top of the nail bed?! He asked me to send pictures to his cell, which I did. He said it didn’t look infected, upped my soaking time to 15 minutes 3 times a day and suggested I leave it uncovered overnight. Which I did last night…

You can see how well that went… Did you ever see the remake of The Fly with Jeff Goldblum…? You know, the part where his giant fly self melded together with the telepod… That’s how my toe and sock felt this morning. Ouch! Yeah I know, I shouldn’t have worn socks. But it was either that or have my toe ooze all over sheets and blankets. A sock was better. Thankfully, it wasn’t too terrible a separation, minus the sock fuzz and pt hair still stuck to my toe when I took this picture. It’s still sore, especially where that funky skin is on top, and it’s just not scabbing over. Hopefully the air will help it dry. Hell, that little red dot on the bottom of my toe? That’s where he shot in the local. Yup, I still have a needle mark there…

That was gross, I know. So I’ll leave you with something pleasant. Just please don’t mind the background mess… I need everything close to me and can’t clean because walking is still weird and painful.

The other day, this was the scene on the loveseat. Amazing! Both dogs laying together and getting along! It’s no secret that Miko (the Shiba Inu) hates Baxter (the corgi). So seeing this was a rare treat! And, as you can see, they’ve confiscated the love seat… It’s all stained from dirty paws and the pillows are shredded… I’m not happy about that… But we’re not going to discuss my dislike of the dogs ruining things on my house. I just wanted to leave you with a really adorkable picture of Baxter and Miko being kind and tolerant for once. Mark that on your calendars…

My Summer Vacation In Hell…

A week ago, I was enjoying my Monday morning ritual of binge watching The Twilight Zone when I was bombarded by phone calls. What else is new… I put the TV on pause in the beginning of the episode “Penny For Your Thoughts” and it happened to be on this particular frame of Dick York right before he has a near miss with an oncoming car. His face was so comical, I had to take a picture of it!

But it was more than that… It was also a matter of how much I could relate to that face… No matter what I’m showing on the outside, this is, for the most part, the face I’m making on the inside. Especially lately… This past week was a disaster that seemed to get progressively worse as the week went on. Just when I thought that it couldn’t possibly get any worse, it fucking did. And I have a feeling it’s not going to be getting better any time soon…

Show of hands… How many of you relate to the sloth…?

That’s me, just trying not to fall out of the Tree of Life. And I’m failing miserably.

There was a time, long ago, when I had no issues telling people to get bent or tell them what I really thought. If you pissed me off, I’d tell you that you were pissing me off. If you were being a needy pain in the ass, I’d tell you that, too. But, at some point, I had to change because situations had changed… You get older, you acquire more family through marriages, births, or what have you. That’s when shit gets complicated. Suddenly, you have to watch what you say and do because you don’t want to make waves with family and extended family. Relationships with people suddenly become more of a burden… And you find yourself missing the person you were who spoke without giving a flying figging fuck.

Ah, to have the life of a cat… and just hide in a box when you don’t want to be bothered.

Morticia is one I’d like to hide in a box from. Literally…

You know, I don’t get her at all… I understand how boring it can be, just laying around, waiting to heal from a surgery. But the stupid thing is that she’s not doing that. She’s still running around (I was told not to drive for 6 weeks after my hysterectomy was finished), she’s baking, canning shit… So WHY does she still call me more than a half dozen times a day?! And why can she not understand that I have things to do and can’t be bothered this much?! I know things aren’t going well for her right now. Her landlord is trying to evict her (though she’s done nothing to break the lease) and she’s not going through legal channels. So Morticia calls me all frantic and bawling. I explained to her the landlord can’t evict her without going through proper legal channels (at least where we live you have to) and that she should talk to my lawyer. She did and he reassured her that what I said was correct. Yet she still freaks out and blubbers to me about it.

She’s also been spending more time with Gomez, but not for the right reasons… I suspect she’s spending more time with him and acting as if their relationship is okay because she’s afraid she’ll end up homeless and need a place to go. Granted, I think Gomez is a douche, but even he deserves better than being used.

Not to mention that she’s constantly telling me that she has no money, won’t be able to pay her car payment and she’ll lose her car. First of all, it takes months for them to repo it. Second, if she’d call the bank like I told her to, maybe she could work shit out, but she’s so dead set that they won’t help her that she won’t call. On top of that, I think she’s always telling me how broke she is because she knows I came into some money. Yes, I could help her, but I won’t. I need that for my own expenses and I can’t afford to have someone not pay me back for long periods, if at all. Besides, instead of constantly telling me your woes, ask if you need help. Not that you’ll get it…

So I’ve been taking the advice of the owner of the hippie-dippy shop. I just haven’t been answering my phone. But it doesn’t prevent her from calling…

And there’s something I’ve taken notice to… Her constant calling, whether I answer or not, is still so stressful that I’ve been physically sick. It began as mild discomfort but, with the rest of the week’s events, it blew up into the most horrible issue…

Several years ago, I spent a few days in a psych ward for my anxiety and, afterward, went through a 2 week outpatient program. I thought it wouldn’t work, that they’d never retrain my brain to stop freaking out, but they succeeded (for a few years). The downside to this was that my anxiety decided to manifest as something else entirely instead. It wasn’t in my brain any longer. Now it was in my digestive tract…

Since I managed to cut my amount of Klonopin down to one in the morning, I’ve noticed that my anxiety has once again moved to my digestive tract. I had a stressful moment coming up, which was bad enough, and Morticia’s constant calling just exacerbated it.

By the time that stressful moment came on Wednesday, I ended up with some mild stomach pain after the fact. But, over the next few days, it grew progressively worse. By Saturday morning, my stomach and gut were in so much pain. I ended up with a horrible case of the runs, something I never get, so that in and of itself was stressing.

I tried everything… I tried medicines, eating bland, eating things to soak up stomach acid… Nothing worked…

So here I am, just 2 days short of a week after the stressful procedure I had done, and I’m still feeling like shit. I’ve literally been laying around doing nothing, partly because of the procedure and partly because I feel so fucking lousy. I’ve just been laying around, curled up in a little ball, suffering with the worst stomach pains and intestinal cramps. Yeah, they got the anxiety out of my brain, but I think I’d prefer it there over my digestive tract…

Sorry for the graphic picture. I know; it’s really gross…

I’ve had toenail issues since I was a young child. I’m not sure how it happened, but the nail beds of pretty much all my toenails are damaged, but none so much as my big toenails. The last time I saw the podiatrist, he told me I was out of options. It was either continue to have excruciating pain or remove the nails permanently. I was against it… When I was a kid, my sister caught one of her overly long toenails on the doorframe of the car when she was getting in the backseat with me. The nail was sticking straight up, only attached at the nail bed. I had to ride about 20 minutes in the backseat with that creepy, bloody sight. It was pretty traumatic, which is why I was so reluctant to have the procedure done. But the kind of pain I had… it was bad enough for me to agree.

It was hell… I didn’t feel anything until the local wore off, but it was tolerable. What wasn’t tolerable was that I almost puked when he removed it (I could feel the pressure of him taking it off) and the first time I saw it that night when I had to soak it, I almost puked again. The following morning, I wasn’t in any pain, really, but it looked awful. This picture was taken yesterday, 5 days later. And this looks good in comparison, despite the swelling at the tip of my toe. And I’ll have to do this again with the other toe soon…

On the bright side (of which there is only one), I was inspired last week to create an art journal entry!

This is just one page of a 2 page spread of mixed media. It’s nothing very important, just something I felt like doing since I had gotten a shit ton of new washi tape and had used none until that day. And I felt like playing with my watercolor markers…

This was the very first thing I’ve actually created in probably almost a year, save for a new profile picture for Facebook… So I posted pictures of both pages as well as a video of me slowly panning over everything. Sometimes I wonder why I bother… All of 2 people actually hit the like button for all the hard work I’d put into this journal entry that took probably 4 days. So either my friends are major fucking assholes or they have no appreciation for art and the hard work that goes into it…

Similarly, only one person liked this drawing I did in Corel Painter. This one also took me several days, working at least 8 or more hours each day…

Is my art this bad…? Do my friends care so little for me that they can’t be bothered to make me feel better by hitting that like button…?! Maybe they think that, because I enjoy what I do that it’s not hard work. I mean, hey, I’m just sitting on my ass drawing, right? Let me tell you, it is work and not easy work at that. It’s time consuming, frustrating when it doesn’t turn out like you envision… Not surprisingly, Morticia was one that didn’t hit the like button for either. I suppose that’s why she thinks she can call all the time and disturb me… She doesn’t see drawing, paining or writing as actual “work”… Either way, it’s disheartening that no one seems to like my work. It sometimes makes me feel like quitting and never creating art again.

Ah well… Such is life…

Well… such is my life, anyway. I’m at the point where I often times feel like just saying “fuck it” and becoming a hermit. I’m just tired of all the bullshit.

Imagine you put your heart and soul into something and no one notices or cares, but put up some gross ass pictures of your now nailless toe and everyone seems to chime in to ask if you’re okay. Seriously?! It’s just a fucking toe! It’ll heal and I’ll be fine! Christ, physical pain is nothing compared to mental pain! You know… the kind people inflict on you by not liking the good things that make you happy and instead liking the miserable times…

Is that what makes a person interesting, the awful things that befall them even if they’re not so awful…? I only posted pictures of my toe so that the people saying they wanted to have it done because of constant ingrown toenails could understand… It’s not fun and I had damage done to my nails that would never improve. This was a last resort and no one wants to do this unless they’re at that point. But hey, I guess that’s more important than supporting someone’s creativity, right…? Yeah… Assholes…

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