The Good, The Bad And The Real Fucking Ugly…

Two days ago, I had a Holter monitor put on for 24 hours to see what kind of fuckery my heart was up to…

Let me paint you a picture… First, they swabbed my skin with the coldest rubbing alcohol I’d ever felt (or maybe it felt that way because it was so hot outside and my skin was hot). Then they take this tiny little piece of sandpaper to buff your skin so the sensors stick. Thank god the alcohol was dried off by that point… They stick these sensor pads on and wires snap fast to them. Then, I suppose to add insult to injury, they put on a shit ton of the clear first-aid tape. I had 3 in the middle of my chest right above my boobs and 2 on the sides at the bottom of my rib cage. Then I had to wear the monitor, which was a bit bigger than an old pocket pager, in a pouch with a cord that went across me like a cross-body purse. I couldn’t shower, which didn’t go over well with my germaphobe side, so I ended up sleeping in the recliner in my living room with all this shit on. Obviously I didn’t sleep well…

Actually, it wasn’t horrible… The worst part, aside from the tape and sensors irritating the hell out of my skin (so itchy!) was the stupid cord that split into 5 wires for the sensors. What a pain in the ass… I found out how much a pain in the ass it was the first time I had to pee. I had a fairly long T-shirt on and the cord dipped down so low that it didn’t pull my shirt up on that side. So when I went pee that first time, I stood there for a second, baffled, wondering what the fuck do I do with this annoying cord?! In the end, I flipped my shirt up with the unit and extra cord inside of it. Success! Or it was until I finished, anyway… You have no idea (or I hope you don’t) what a pain in the ass it was to have to wrestle with a cord hanging from you because you almost zipped it up inside your pants… Seriously annoying… I wore pajama pants after that.

No lie, this was me when I finally pulled those sensors off…

I timed it perfectly so that the countdown timer went off just as I pulled into the cardiologist’s parking lot. Damn, I’m good… Anyway, I yanked off the 2 at the base of my ribs, then said “fuck it”, lifted my shirt up and ripped the ones from my chest. Hey, I was wearing a sports bra (more comfy than my normal heavy duty underwire bra) so all anyone saw was my boobs trying to escape their non-supportive covering. So yeah, I gave people a show and didn’t care. I wanted them off! Then I realized it may not have been the best idea… From the heat and me sweating, the adhesive had turned into this slimy, sticky goop. Eeew… Thank god I have the common sense to keep napkins in the glove compartment and have a bottle of hand sanitizer hooked to my purse. It was so gross! But I’m finally free! And, as long as they don’t call me, all is good with my ticker.

I’m also free of my anti anxiety meds, for the most part. That’s something my family doc and my shrink are happy about. My family doc was especially happily shocked and even told me, “You go, girl!” Hell yeah! At this point, I’ve only been taking a half milligram of Klonopin in the morning. Daytime is when I seem to have the worst anxiety (coffee, even only a quarter caffeine, doesn’t help I’m sure). It was tough… I went through some withdrawal that wasn’t pretty. Even the CBD oil I was taking didn’t help that much. But now I don’t even use the oil every day! Don’t get me wrong, I still get anxious and have moments of panic, but I’m able to talk myself down 99% of the time. I’m relying on my brain to fix itself and stop being an asshole. And my hippie-dippy stuff is helping, especially patchouli. It’s a very soothing scent to me. Plus I have my singing bowl, I’ve been wearing various crystals and patchouli oil… I know, sounds whacked, but it really works!

Whoever this is has “wtf” down to a science

However, these things sadly don’t relieve stress…

You guys all know what I mean by now, right? Yup, my “friend”, Morticia… Her name (her real one) has become like a dirty word, which is pretty much how I say it anymore. I’m not sure if she’s aware of what she does or not… But I just can’t anymore with her. I really can’t… The perpetual whining, bitching and changing her mind about Gomez (she’s like a fucking yo-yo), the constant moaning and groaning about how she doesn’t feel good and what’s ailing her, always the same things. There are times when I tell her it’s just her nerves. Anxiety and depression can do weird things to you physically. I just wish she’d listen to that bit of knowledge. Several times the doctor put her on anti depressants and each time she whines that she doesn’t feel good on them. The truth is that she doesn’t want to take them. She wants Xanax… Yeah, crawl into a bottle of pills or booze. That helps a lot… *eye roll*

I spoke to her yesterday morning and she told me she called off work. She was convinced she woke up with a fever (though she was unsure as she has no working thermometer) and her job bullied her into coming in against protocol with this COVID shit. Not that it’s hard to guilt trip her… Anyway, they ended up letting her go home at 10 because she was still nauseous. Mind you, she’s nauseous every day, so not sure this is an illness. She’s also going through menopause, so I’m thinking hot flash and not fever. Well, she starts bitching about her foot since this has been an issue for a while and she’s convinced it’s broken. I suggested she see a podiatrist, but no, she calls her family doctor because she wants an X-ray first. Whatever… She called the doctor, then called me back to say she got a virtual appointment. Thank goodness it was a short convo because I had gotten another call that I really wanted to take. But more on that later…

Now, she knew this was an important call to me (though not why) and it makes me wonder why she tried calling me twice, about 15 minutes apart, while I was on this other call. Then I get this text that said, “Thanks a lot, now I can’t go to work for a fucking week”… Excuse me?! Exactly how is this my fault that you can’t work for a week?! So I texted her back, told her I was still on the phone and asked what was up. Don’t you know, she doesn’t fucking read her texts and calls me. Fine, I answered and told her I couldn’t talk long because I was still on the phone. Apparently, she told her doctor that she had a fever that morning (again, who knows if she did) and the doctor was convinced she had an upper respiratory infection, the dizziness she’s been getting is vertigo (which is an ear thing, not always connected with the nose) and insists she get tested for COVID-19.

So… she’s blaming me for her needing to get a COVID test… And this is my fault how, exactly?! Listen, you constantly bitch about all your aches, pains and every fart twisted, constantly stating you don’t feel good at all every fucking day, I’m going to give you the best advice and tell you to go to the doctor. Anyone would do the same, am I right, dear readers? You feel that bad, go see a professional to get a physical. I didn’t force her to go, didn’t drag her kicking and screaming or put a gun to her fucking head (though sometimes I wish I could). Don’t put all that shit on me, okay? That’s all your dumb Munchausen’s ass. And then she wondered why I didn’t pick up my phone later on. Gee… I don’t fucking know. Maybe because you nastily blamed your problems on me?! Idiot…

I’ve also been taking notice to other things…

One issue she bitches about is how Gomez constantly puts her down. Yeah…? So I guess that makes it okay for her to turn around and, in the same breath, put me down. Oh, I don’t think so… Even though I don’t like to show off my big brain, I do have one. I know my IQ and it’s well above average. Hers is not… Yet she acts as if I’m the moron here. Nope, don’t think so, not having it… She also puts my doctors down for scaring me unnecessarily, which they’re not, and for me being worried about things. So… it’s okay for her to worry about shit, but not me?! Talk about a double standard! Besides, at least I know I’m fucking nuts… I whole-heartedly admit it, quite freely. I’m not ashamed of it. I own that shit. I can’t say the same for her. And, until she can, I don’t want to hear her shit. It’s going to get ugly real soon… I’ve flipped on people and made them cry before and don’t feel bad for it. Wait… it’s coming for her…

So… the important call I was on…

Imagine my surprise that, when I was talking to Morticia, I got a call from my friend, Anakin, who I wrote about sometime in December. We haven’t spoken since that awful fight. Honestly, I’m glad he waited this long to call me. I needed time to cool off and take care of my own stressful issues and he needed time to get his shit together. Admittedly, I was a little surprised that he apologized for everything, telling me he let everyone down including me, that he knew I was only trying to help and he shouldn’t have snapped on me and yelled like he did. I understand… I explained to him that he was still having issues coming to terms with his father dying, then he gets his heart broken; he was feeling overwhelmed and just snapped. I do the same myself. After 41 years of friendship, I can forgive him for that, considering the circumstances. Despite what he shows everyone else, I get to see the real Anakin, who is really just a scared little boy in many ways. I get to see the weakness he won’t show everyone. So we’re all good again. I’m glad. He’s always been a great friend and was there for me since we were 6 years old.

Sometimes, in life, you just have to stop and smell the flowers…

Which is what I’m trying to do right now. I don’t know if all this shit going on with my heart is the reason or if it’s because I’ve pretty much gone off my anti anxiety meds (for the most part). But you want to know something…? Life is too short to worry about things like some stupid fight you had with a good, lifelong friend. I’m not usually the forgiving type. It depends on how badly I was wronged. At the time that Anakin and I fought, I was going through some tough times myself. We were both overwhelmed by our circumstances and I couldn’t see the logic of why he was so pissed at the time. It’s hard to think logically when you’re in a bad state yourself. I can’t always be so strong for others all the time when wrestling with my own demons. I’ve come to accept that fact… I’m only human, though I don’t always show it. So, when on the path of life, I’m not going to forget to stop and smell the daisies.

As for Morticia…

Well… it may be time I say “sayonara” to her. She’s been such a huge source of my stress, which is what makes my heart go wonky (the stress). I’m already down on myself (my shrink got upset when I said I was fat the other day) and I don’t need her trying to make me feel more down on myself. Not that she succeeds, but it’s annoying that she’s trying just to feel good about herself. We’re not in high school anymore, get the fuck over yourself. So I think it’s time I cut her loose. Go whine to someone else about all your issues, real and imaginary. Go make someone else feel bad about themselves because you’re not getting anywhere here. Go sell crazy some place else because I’m all full up here… And learn to own that shit… I’m tired of listening to all this shit. It’s as if she wants me to fix her life. Sorry, only you can do that. I need to focus on me and fixing my own life. And remembering to stop and smell the daisies…

Just A Random Kind Of Entry…

I woke up this morning with Elton John’s “Sad Songs” running through my head and, subsequently, the version Sasson paid him to sing for their jeans back in the 80s…

It could be worse… I’ve woken up with all sorts of tunes in my head, not all of them ones I like. Yeah, we all get ear worms at one time or another, but my brain takes it to extremes. I haven’t heard the song currently in my head in decades. Worse, I don’t know why I wake up like this, with just some random song bopping about. Usually I can get them to go away, but there was this one time in high school… For no reason, Gerry Rafferty’s “Baker Street” was running through my head, from the time I woke up until I fell asleep, for 2 weeks straight! And I never even liked that song! It was torture! Luckily, they played it on the radio one day and I recorded it to a cassette in case it happened again. Listening to it got rid of the ear worm. Stupid thing is, now I actually like that song…

On a happier note, I finally figured out how to get my new Tibetan singing bowl to sing! Go me!

I was bound and determined to figure this shit out… I mean, yeah, it sounds nice when you just strike it and it resonates a decent amount of time. But I wanted mine to sing, damn it! I even had other people try it like how I saw it demonstrated on YouTube. Nothing… But I kept on trying and dorking with it. Now, I still don’t know how those people got theirs to work… The gist is that you strike it at the point where it bulges out furthest and run the mallet around the outside near the rim. Easy enough, right? Nope, I just couldn’t get it to work. All these people used the padded end of the striker, which ended up stopping the vibration for me. So I decided to strike it with the padded end and use the wooden end to run around the outside so that, hopefully, the vibration wouldn’t stop. Success! It sang! Beautifully, I might add…

Can I get radio stations from around the globe with this…?

Anyway… Yesterday I had to go see the cardiologist, again, because this was not a good week.

I wasn’t thrilled about going because I was leery that they might end up having me admitted to get my tests done sooner. Luckily that wasn’t the case. I did get scolded for not going to the ER Sunday when I felt really awful after walking around the flea market in that excessive heat… Apparently, any time something is wonky, that’s where I’m to go to see what’s going on. Yeah, I’ll rush right in with all the COVID patients to have them tell me it’s just my anxiety, right? Hahahaa… Nope. Well, the NP I saw decided she wanted to get a Holter monitor on me yesterday, but they were all out and in use. Now I go back Monday to get one on for 24 hours. Isn’t that lovely looking… Looks like I’ll be wearing R2D2’s innards on me. Worse, you can’t shower. That’s not going to be good… I’m a germaphobe! I won’t touch any area I call a clean zone without being squeaky clean. I have no idea where I’ll sleep…

So, to keep myself stress free (sort of), I’ve been playing an awful lot of Animal Crossing New Horizons.

I named my place Zen Isle because I wanted a peaceful place to escape to and avoid stress. And, on occasion, laugh at the weird things my villagers do or say. Like this scene I came across one afternoon… What the fuck is going on here, exactly…? Animal Crossing Mafia…? Yakuza…?! I have no idea, but it looked pretty freaky… What exactly were they planning?

Sometimes I get a good laugh at how goofy and stupid they are. Like this interaction with my favorite villager, Punchy, in the art section of the museum. When I approached him to speak to him, this was his response to me. Mind you… he was looking at the Mona Lisa… Aside from the fact that it’s the most famous painting in the world, I’m pretty sure this is not his mom. She died centuries ago and she’s also not a cat. So when he said this, I said, “What the fuck?!” and burst out laughing. Laughter is the best medicine, so they say.

But amazing as some think my island looks, it’s really not that great in comparison to some. I’ve seen YouTube videos where people went all bat shit insane. A medieval theme, a zoo theme, a Harry Potter theme, even a murder mystery island! They have the most well laid out design, gorgeous terraforming, and they cheated to get items we can’t get yet in the northern hemisphere. I can’t help but watch these videos and get disgusted with how mine looks. Maybe it’s time for massive change…

All I know is that I want my island to be beautiful yet peaceful. I want it to have that feeling of zen without being too crazy.

If nothing else, at least it helps my anxiety, a little… And it’s helping my creativity to come back, to a small degree. I think if I can keep those creative juices flowing, maybe I can start getting rid of stress and relieving anxiety. Or cause more trying to make my island some sort of fucking masterpiece. I’m so particular…

A Vain Attempt To Heal Thyself

The other day I went to a different new age shop (as my normal store was still closed due to COVID-19) in a vain attempt to find some items that might help me to relieve stress and anxiety. Normally, just being in one of those stores makes me feel at ease, sometimes even at peace. So I knew something was wrong when I didn’t actually feel much better and actually felt a bit lost.

The thing about new age shops… Obviously they’re hippie-dippy, which is why I feel so calm and relaxed there. Maybe this just wasn’t the right store for me. Or maybe it’s because of the funk I’ve been in that I haven’t been feeling at ease. Who knows… Mind you, that didn’t stop me from shopping ’til I dropped. I bought anything and everything I thought might help or just caught my eye. And, you can imagine, spent way more money than one person should. When did being a hippie get so expensive?!

One thing I’ve been wanting, and finally broke down and bought, is a Tibetan singing bowl. In fact, the one I bought looks much like this one, except my mallet has a soft coating on the end being used… Anyway, this type is mass produced, not hand hammered. It still cost me $78! Now you know why I’ve passed prior to this… I’ve seen people using them, have heard how they sound, and I thought this might be exactly what I need. So I shelled out the money for it (along with like another $100, yikes) and brought it home. As I wasn’t exactly sure how to make them sing, I turned to YouTube, your source for just about everything in the world. I watched some videos and it looked simple enough. So I set my bowl on this nice little doughnut (sold separately, of course) and did what the video showed. No singing… So I held it on my palm, like in this picture. No singing… I’m beginning to think I’m incredibly inept with this thing.

I bought all sorts of stuff… I bought a bracelet made of quartz crystals which is supposed to be good for healing the heart (could really use that now), some incense cones (patchouli, of course, and green tea), some incense made by Buddhist monks, a new bag for my malas, a bamboo flute, a beautiful resin charm with real flowers in it that look like a sakura tree…I even bought some stickers, which I’m a sucker for.

And I bought this cute little guy…

I saw a box full of these metal discs that were printed with spirit animals. Now, not knowing which animal served what purpose, I decided to just look at them and pick up the one that spoke to me. I know that sounds weird, but seriously, when you are compelled to buy something, isn’t the reason because it appeals to you in some way? Believe me, it is… It spoke to you. And so this particular spirit animal spoke to me. I smiled when I saw it and picked it up.

When I turned it over, this is what was written on the back.

No wonder I was drawn to this one… It also explains why I love to go see the otters at the local game preserve… Wise little otters…

Funny that I should choose this one, actually. Things have been very stressful for me over the years and for the past year or 2, I haven’t really been about to imagine or play, really. Perhaps that’s why I’m having all these difficulties… I’ve always been one for mischief and have always had a rather vivid imagination. But… I don’t know. I suppose it was just the stresses in life? Something just sucked all the imagination and playful mischief right out of me. That’s why I haven’t really had any inspiration to create for several years. No drawing, no painting, no nothing… I’m even having difficulty writing stories. So choosing the otter was no mistake. I think I was compelled to chose this one, a gentle reminder to imagine and play.

But that night, I forgot about the otter…

You guys all know oil and water don’t mix… I’m sure most of you have made homemade lava lamps with oil, water and food coloring, yeah? And you know it works because oil and water don’t mix. Well… bipolar and bipolar don’t mix, either…

I don’t wish to go into detail… Let’s just say that a family member is also bipolar and doesn’t take meds (whereas I do, though I have no clue why). Anyway, this person flipped shit on me, claiming I was talking shit about them when all I had done was make a simple request to be courteous. Needless to say, this entailed the person flipping shit, getting nose to nose with me, so angry they were literally foaming at the mouth. Horrible things were said, a death threat was made towards me… Not that this is new… It’s happened so many other times, I’ve lost count. I kept my cool, stood my ground. But, after the fact, when I finally lost my stoic demeanor, I had a meltdown, literally sobbing. You know, if someone says horrible things and attacks your abilities as a human being, eventually you begin to believe what they’re telling you… It’s kind of unavoidable.

As I said, this has happened with this family member before. And every time, I get the apology after.

Don’t get me wrong, I think a true, heart-felt apology is important when you fuck up. The thing is, this quote is quite accurate. If you continue the behavior you’re supposedly sorry for, your apology means nothing. I know we all say things we don’t mean when we’re angry, but to continue to say the same things every time we’re angry, to continuously repeat the pattern of attacking your character, making threats towards you and continually saying you’re sorry? Eventually the apology means nothing to you. Actions speak louder than words… And this is a prime example. I’ve told this person multiple times that sorry isn’t good enough anymore because the behavior never stops. That hasn’t computed yet, I suppose… And, before you all get the wrong idea, no, this is not an abusive relationship. Not a significant other, a family member. I would never stay in an abusive relationship. I had one once… I called the cops and left…

Either way, damage was done… and it really manifested itself yesterday…

It started in the morning where I had heart palpitations out of nowhere (the first in a long time). Then my heart began to race… I figured it was simply my anxiety and stress from the night before, but I was still a bit concerned, considering. So I called my family doctor who told me to take one of my anti-anxiety pills to determine if that was the cause of everything and also told me to call the cardiologist I saw. See, I wanted to avoid that… I didn’t want to go to the emergency room with all this COVID shit… But I called and left a message on the nurse’s line. She called back in like 2 minutes. Wow… She actually tried to get me in yesterday, but she couldn’t squeeze me in. So now I go this afternoon. I really would rather not. I really don’t want to go to the ER. Especially for this… I’m scared…

It’s funny how people can be so uncaring and inconsiderate…

Mind you, I’ve told everyone close to me what’s going on so that they try their best not to stress me out. Most have done that (except Morticia, the Munchausen’s queen). But there are some who just don’t get it. I don’t expect anyone to walk on eggshells, but I don’t need anyone flipping shit and stressing me. Bipolar and bipolar don’t mix…

So… now I have all these new age items, the ones I bought the other day and ones I bought over the last I don’t know how many months. And I’ve made a decision… I need to build that art studio I’ve been wanting for a long time. And when I do, you better believe that all my items will be in it. In essence, it’s going to be an art studio/zen den. Actually, that isn’t as stupid as it sounds… When I’m creating art, I have a sense of zen. Combining a place to create with all my new age, hippie-dippy items, I think, will bring me the zen I’m searching for. That’s what I need right now… That and a lot of good vibes. Please send some out, dear readers. I really need them…

Bizarre And Bazaars…

Believe it or not, this is a succulent plant…

It seems Chewbacca fucked a succulent plant and this was the result…

This past weekend was just full of shit that, if I could go back and do it again, I’d change everything.

Fridays are the days my mother comes to visit. Yeah, I don’t see her often. Most of the time she’s either playing with Baxter or checking her watch to see if she’s spent the obligatory amount of time here. I once told her I felt as if she didn’t enjoy coming to see me and she told me if she didn’t, she wouldn’t come up. Not sure that’s relevant… My sister has told her she’s going to put her in a home when that time comes. My mother knows I’m the jackass who would take care of her. She’s just setting this in stone, really.

However, she didn’t come alone this time. Her asshole boyfriend came along to see Baxter (he loves the dogs). I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that incident where he flipped shit when my mother asked if he could print out a script for me to get important blood work done because I don’t have a working printer. Yes, he seriously flipped out about that…

Amazon: home of the best shit that says it all

What a fun afternoon that was… I put on that mask, you know, the happy one, with super glue…

When I was younger and still living at home, I used to rebel and talk back to him because, well, he’s a fucking asshole. Anyone who has every met him tells me he’s an asshole (as if I didn’t know it). After 35 years of knowing this man, I’ve learned to pick and choose my battles with him. Although there are some worth fighting and I don’t for my mother’s sake. She takes his verbal and emotional abuse and makes excuses for his bad behavior. I do not… I find other ways to get even. Not that I didn’t want to boot him out the one year when they came over for Thanksgiving. He said something so offensive and asinine that I almost came out of the kitchen to point at the door and yell, “Get the fuck out of my house!” I didn’t; but I wanted to. So Friday I kept conversation light to avoid him saying something stupid like usual. If we had it out now, he’d forbid my mother to see me. I don’t want her sneaking around to visit me. And yes, he’s that much of a dick that he would do that to her. It’s bullshit…

Saturday was national “get drunk and blow shit up” day, better known as July 4th. That’s what it’s really about anymore, not celebrating the US’s independence from Britain. It’s just an excuse for picnics, getting drunk and blowing shit up… Which, I might add, happens in my small hood. I live in a neighborhood of row homes with a street so narrow you can barely fit two cars side by side and one where people are parked on the sides of the road. The nice part is I get a free show by stepping out front and watching people set shit off in the middle of the road. It’s amazing none of the houses have caught fire in all these years… The down side is that quarter and half sticks are often set off (which make me jump) and Baxter tired himself out barking at the booms and crackles. It was his first year for this, so he barked at everything and literally wore himself out from barking.

Flea markets: one person’s junk is another person’s treasure…

Sunday, I realized I hadn’t been out of my house in a week, so I decided to check out this indoor flea market I was told about. It’s a half hour drive to get there, in the middle of bumble fuck. Honestly, I wasn’t impressed… I made 2 finds: a fox clock for my niece for Christmas and 2 French onion soup bowls (with handle and lid) from the 70s that I’ll use for decoration. It was indoors, very small and very hot (no air conditioning). When I left, I thought I may as well go to the most popular one that’s close to me as it was just up to road. I made some great finds! I got a Michael Kor knock-off purse for $20! I know it’s a knock-off, but it was such an attractive purse (one of my weaknesses) so I got it. I bought some hippie jewelry, some candy from a store owner who does flea markets and carnivals, found some great LPs, got pickles from the local famous pickle guy and bought patchouli scented hemp soap where I got free samples of CBD gummy bears.

However, there is a downside to my having done this…

It was hot… I’m talking feeling like you were in the bowel of hell hot… It was 95 degrees (F) and incredibly humid. I also went around 12:30PM, so during the hottest part of the day. Not a brilliant idea. By the time I got back to the car, I was breathing hard like I’d just run the marathon twice in a row. I knew it wasn’t just my being out of shape… Heat and humidity just exacerbates heart issues. Isn’t ischemia fun?! I actually considered going to the emergency room, sure I was beginning to get heat stroke. Instead, I pounded down the water I bought and sat in the air conditioning of the car until I cooled off a bit and felt good enough to drive home. When I got back into town, I stopped at Dunkin Doughnuts for an iced coffee to help cool me down further. It actually took several hours until I was completely cooled and that red flush in my cheeks was gone. Lesson learned (I hope): don’t go to an outdoor flea market when it’s hotter than hell.

The only good thing was those CBD gummies helped a lot. Normally I would have been freaking out and thinking I was going to die, but I was pretty relaxed and mellow.

Actually, I’ve been using the CBD oil someone had given me. Odd stuff… It’s like swallowing a mouth full of vegetable oil that was infused with a peppermint and pot taste. It’s actually pretty gross and I spend most of the time after burping up this hideous taste. However, I have to admit, it does keep me mellow, or mellow enough to make it through my day, anyway. Though I must say, I’m still kind of missing the point of it. I mean, yeah it relaxes you, but I don’t see the point of using this stuff if you’re not getting the high from it. I’m not promoting being a pot-head (like I was in high school). All I’m saying is that the THC in marijuana was what made me feel happy. No antidepressant has ever managed to do that. And the CBD in it helps me stay chill. So the oil helps my anxiety and little else. Better than nothing, I guess.

It’s been difficult to be happy lately. Honestly, I feel like I’m in this dark pit of despair most days…

I know they told me it’s nothing to get anxious about, but I’m seriously worried about my health. And no offense, but if you work in the medical field, you should know that telling someone that a health issue isn’t something they should get anxious about when you know the person suffers massive anxiety isn’t going to help. Seriously, that woman obviously doesn’t understand how anxiety works… Actually, I think her telling me that gave me more anxiety. Am I right, fellow sufferers?

Now, here’s the corker… She told me little except what tests they were going to perform on my ticker… Yesterday, I get this email about an upcoming appointment and had to go onto this “my chart” site for that particular hospital group. That’s when I found out that, apparently, there were after notes from my cardiologist appointment. Yet another diet change! And quit smoking, no more coffee (not even decaf because it has a little caffeine)… First of all, no… I’ll give up my vices when I know I have to. Second, why the fuck can’t you tell me this shit directly?! No, I have to go into that stupid site to find out what the fuck to do…

And then there’s the Morticia saga…

I’ve actually been brushing her off more lately. Sadly, I’m running out of lame excuses. I mean, I can tell her I’m in a mood and don’t want to talk, but that doesn’t compute, so lame excuses it is. I don’t have a choice… One night she’s blubbering to me how Gomez is so unsympathetic as to what she’s going through and the next day she’s telling me she had it out with him and says she thinks he may have finally gotten it through his thick skull. Seriously?! I’m sorry, but she’s the world’s biggest fool. She says the sam thing every time and nothing ever changes. Just this morning she was bitching about him to me. I should have told her that, obviously, she was wrong and is wrong every time, point out how often this pattern repeats (tried that once, she always claims she’s never said that before). It’s really a moot point, though…

Instead, I decided to go all psychological on her this morning… Which probably means she won’t call me the rest of the day because I did.

One of her biggest bitches and the thing she cries about most is that Gomez is always putting her down, making her feel inferior, making her feel guilty. Then she claims he’s changed, he wasn’t always like this.

Now, one nice thing about Morticia is that she literally has no analytic thought process whatsoever, which makes it incredibly easy to do mind of like an Inception thing. I plant the idea in her head and let it fester until she reaches the conclusion on her own… hopefully… Yes, technically I’m manipulating her, but it’s what’s best for me so she shuts the fuck up about how poorly Gomez treats her.

You don’t necessarily need to be sleeping to do this…

This morning, I planted a rather interesting idea to fester…

She was telling me Gomez keeps telling her she’s changed and insists that he’s the one who has changed. Mind you, the Gomez she thought he was never existed. I’ve told her that before, but it never stuck. So this morning, I gave her the Inception treatment…

I suggested that he was correct and that she was, in fact, the one who changed. She insisted no, it was definitely Gomez who had changed. This was where I became the master of manipulation… I said, “Think about this… Maybe it really is you who have changed… And the way you’ve changed is that you’re finally able to see through Gomez and see him for what he truly is and aren’t turning a blind eye to his bad behaviors anymore. Maybe they were there all along and you’re just now starting to wake up and see them. So maybe you are the one who’s changed, but it’s a change for the better.” She got very quiet after that… I know she’s thinking about it as I type this. She’ll think about that all day… Will it work? Who knows…

That’s the only advantage of me being in therapy most of my life…

The first psychiatrist I saw was this guy who looked like he was about 100 years older than Moses… He was a very odd man… He said little and had a face made of stone. The ultimate poker face, if you will. It was unsettling…

During one session, I mentioned that, for a brief time in high school, I considered becoming a psychiatrist. I really did… It was when I took the sociology and psychology classes. Anyway, he had asked me why I changed my mind and never pursued it. I looked him right in the face and told him, “I didn’t think I’d be good at it… Someone would come in my office, saying, ‘Doc! Doc! I want to kill myself!’ and I’d point and say, ‘There’s the window…'” And this stone-faced man with resting poker face… I saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly and thought, holy shit, he’s going to break his face! Hahahaa… Seriously, though, I didn’t think a crazy person helping crazy people would pan out well. Besides, art has always been and will always be my first love.

After checking this out on Amazon, I’m buying it…

Still… I really need to learn to stop stressing, stop being anxious and find that inner peace I’m searching for…

At one point, I thought I was close. I was happy, care-free (for the most part) and living in that hippie-dippy way that seems to suit me well. I was really finding myself and finding that inner peace… Then all this shit came up with my health and I began to lose sight of things…

My uncle is a rather strange guy… I just got a letter from him yesterday and he told me again to try yoga. The trouble is, my knees won’t do a lot of the poses. They screamed at me all day yesterday because I’d been walking the day before and because it stormed later in the day. He also tells me to meditate which is not easy to do. Sometimes the hood is loud. And Baxter is like having a toddler around (he tried to eat a dime yesterday). And Morticia calls a million times a day. When am I supposed to find peaceful time?! But perhaps he’s right and I need to do these things for myself… Well… when my knees stop screaming at me, anyway…

C’mon Get Happy…

There I go dating myself again… Yes, I used to watch The Partridge Family. Yes I’m old… And yes, I now have the theme stuck in my head. Thank god it’s not that other song I can’t mention or it will be in there for days and I hate that song. Needless to say… I have no idea why this song got stuck in my head. Apparently I need to “c’mon get happy”, I don’t know. What I do know from the image search is that there is kind of a frightening amount of merchandise with this image or the band logo (what band, only 2 of them had any musical talent) and you can get all the seasons on DVD. Much as I loved this show… Why?!?

Yesterday I was a bit of a mess… so much so that I started thinking.

One thing I haven’t touched in a long time (because I’m a forgetful person) is my malas. It dawned on me that, perhaps, this was one of my issues. I know, it sounds like hippie dippy bullshit, right? Maybe… but it works… I got 2 (one of which I won’t wear because it’s falling apart), both of which are supposed to ward off negativity. I always felt a sense of calm while wearing them. But I haven’t worn either in months. I suppose I thought I didn’t have to because I wear other anti anxiety stuff all the time, chakra jewelry, my shift necklace to help me breathe properly when I’m anxious, my “om” bracelet… But yesterday, I put my good mala around my neck and I actually felt good all day. Call it hippy dippy if you wish, but it works for me. I felt better.

I took it off when I went to bed last night and realized something. I probably should have left it on… I couldn’t get comfortable, then I was woken up 3 times by the most hellacious headache that I still had when I got up this morning. Most of it is gone, but I still feel some effects.

When I was younger, I used to get migraines. A lot… They got better once I lost my ovaries as some was due to hormone spikes. But the rest was from stress. I’ve only had a few migraines the past year and every one of them wasn’t a migraine at all. It was a tension headache. Even the one this morning.

I know why I had it… I was watching a YouTube video (which was getting pretty cool), winding down for bedtime and Morticia called. It was 10:24PM! I know I’m a night owl sometimes, but this was ridiculous! Especially because one of the first things she said was that she was tired. Then why the fuck are you calling me?! Go to fucking bed!

Again, she only calls me to vent and bitch… She began with a revelation that she was going to talk to Gomez (supposedly today) and break things off with him because he’s insensitive and doesn’t have sympathy for “all the things I’m going through”… Uh-huh… So you call the one person who can’t feel sympathy or empathy except on a handful of occasions. I’ve tried to explain to her that I’m a sociopath. I can understand those feelings, I just rarely have them. Simply put, I don’t give a fuck.

But, this is Morticia we’re talking about. She thinks she knows me better than I know myself. Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I really am like that.

So she starts her blubbering and I’m here making that motion where you point your finger to your head like it’s a gun, pull the trigger and use your other hand to indicate you brains splaying out the other side… In all fairness, she does have some medical conditions that she’s had forever, pretty much. I’m sure none are fun, but she doesn’t take care of herself to manage them properly, with the exception of rheumatoid arthritis. Not much helps that… But now it’s a whole bunch of new issues, which I think some are imaginary, really. So she blubbers, “No one understands what I’m going through…” Right… I have no idea what pain is when I can barely walk. I lost my ovaries and it’s thoroughly fuck up my entire body. Now a heart issue that has me so damned paranoid every time I feel funky or my heart races. Don’t need to hear her shit…

You know, I try to give her advice, but it’s not what she want to hear and so she just immediately starts talking about something random. Listen, if you don’t like what I have to say and don’t want to hear it, then stop calling to cry and bitch to me because I don’t want to hear that…

I did notice something, however… If my advice is something that she really doesn’t want to hear or it pisses her off, she won’t call me at all for the rest of the day or won’t call me until very late at night. I think I’ve found a way to stop this crazy bullshit!

Oddly enough, she did text me early this morning like she does on her way to work, an indication to call her. Instead, I shot her a text telling her I had been woken up 3 times in the middle of the night by this horrible headache which I still had. I told her to text me on break and see if I felt better. She never responded… That’s the thing, it’s like I have to be there for her all the time. I’m not allowed to get sick or have a headache. Even if she’s the cause of said headache… like every time…

I really need my mind to be more at peace…

I know I keep saying that I need to cut Morticia loose because she’s toxic to me. She really is… She’s like this bubbling cauldron of negativity and, when it boils over, it always seems to boil all over me, the one person who isn’t stupid enough to give her the attention, sympathy and pity she’s looking for. I don’t get it… If you can get that from everyone but me, why in the blue fuck am I the one you call all the time looking for it?! You won’t get it! I’m not geared that way!

I’ve told her on multiple occasions that I’m a sociopath… I always have been. Certain emotions I just don’t feel. It’s not my fault… I was obviously born that way. And I manipulate people on occasion to get what I want and don’t feel badly for it. Yet still, she thinks she knows me better than I know myself… I find that comical… The only person who knows the real you is you… Everyone keeps certain things to themselves, things we don’t want others to see. I’ve hidden a lot of my issues over the years. I’ve gotten very good at it. And no one, not even Morticia, is so perceptive that they can see into the dark parts of my psyche…

And so, I’m still struggling with shit…

Still struggling with depression, anxiety, some health issues, one of which is scary as fuck… Then I have all Morticia’s shit pushed on me. Honestly, I feel like she’s being intrusive… as if she’s filling my brain with her issues as well as my own because, you know, she thinks I have no issues. I’m just so sick of this shit… But, with her being family, I just don’t know a nice way to tell her she needs to leave me alone for a while. I don’t think there is a nice way, but I need one. Normally I’d just tell someone off, but family… You have to watch with that. I don’t need more drama from other family, you know?

I think I just need time to myself, to work on me and try to work on finding that inner peace that I’ve been striving for for such a long time. I need my mind and my spirit to be quiet for a while. They need to shut the fuck up and let me have that little bit of peace, even if it’s only for a short time. I deserve at least that much… Don’t you think…?

Oh yes… One last thing…

My apologies to any epileptics who may have been reading this entry. I used a lot of trippy, flashing GIF files. I just felt the need to use them today. I didn’t mean to cause seizures or anything. Hell, some of these even bothered me and I’m not epileptic!

So yeah… If anyone was bothered by these flashy, spinning, weird ass GIFs, again, my apologies. Sometimes I just have to jazz shit up with things that move. Unfortunately, I tend to go overboard with my jazzing shit up. In light of that, I’ll end today with a stationary image. Don’t your eyes feel better? I know that mine sure in the hell do…

What If I Pushed Them…?

One of my favorite goofy movies is So I Married An Axe Murderer. If you like Mike Myers or just ridiculous movies, it’s a must see comedy.

A few days ago, one scene popped into my head. The two main characters, Charlie and Harriet, were lying in bed when Harriett casually asks Charlie if he’d ever been standing with someone on a cliff or subway platform and thought, “What if I pushed them..?” to which Charlie replies, “No, not really. Usually I follow the Judeo-Christian ethic of ‘Thou shalt not kill’. But that’s just me.”

Not surprisingly, this popped into my head after talking to Morticia… It was the day I finally had a bit of inspiration and was going to write and she interrupted my flow, so I watched J-Rock videos and ditty-bopped the entire time we were talking and pretty much tuned her out except to add an occasional “Uh-huh…” so she thought I was listening. And, when I finally got off the phone, whatever I’d had in mind for my short story was gone. I was so irked… This was when that scene popped in my head. I must admit, I’ve thought that about her.

There are a startlingly large amount of pictures like this

If you’re thinking I’m planning something bad for Morticia, don’t. I have no intentions of pushing her off some steep incline or in front of a train. Though if I knew how, I’d sever the nerves to her vocal cords so she’d shut the fuck up and stop bitching.

Her latest complaint every one of the half dozen times she calls me a day has been that she doesn’t feel good, she feels sick, though she won’t tell you exactly how. Eventually she’ll say she feels like she’s going to throw up, she’s so tired, has no energy… Blah blah blah… This morning I told her it’s because she’s not eating. Can’t have energy if you’re not giving your body fuel. I don’t eat a lot, but that’s okay, I’m not on my feet running ragged all day. If I am, I eat more. But she didn’t want to hear that. She wants there to be something seriously wrong with her.

Actual photo of Morticia doing what she does best…

The past few days, she’s been telling me she’s having chest pain and dizzy spells again. Today she told me her EKG and stress echocardiogram were fine, they couldn’t find anything wrong and it’s frustrating… Is she serious…?! Yet, when I’m not feeling well or I’m scared because of this ischemia shit, she belittles me! She doesn’t agree with their diagnosis. Really… When did you become a doctor, Morticia? She acts as if there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with me, the doctors shouldn’t scare me like that. Much as I hate to admit it, in some ways, Gomez is right. She is a hypochondriac. But it’s not the way he thinks… I really think she has Munchausen’s, which is a serious mental illness. For those who don’t know what that is, in a nutshell, people will act ill and, on occasion, intentionally make themselves ill just so they get attention from people.

Hey, I get it… There are times when I’m not feeling well myself. But at least I can recognize when I really don’t feel well as opposed to when I’m just feeling unloved and neglected. I’m sure most of us have felt that way at some point. Hell, once when I was overly stressed and was focusing my attention on everyone else and forgot to take care of me, too, I could feel the meltdown coming on. So I drove to my mom’s, vented and cried… then told her I needed a hug. I think the last time I asked her for one was when I was in my first few years of elementary school. She seemed pretty shocked I made such a request as I hate being touched, but she gave me one and, suddenly, I felt much better. Sometimes all you need is a hug… And I get it, I’m sure she feels very neglected being with Gomez. She’s a very touchy-feely person when it comes to expressing herself. She loves giving and getting hugs, something she doesn’t get from Gomez. So I understand why she feels the need for attention. But I really wish she would understand that these feelings of illness are nothing more than her mind manifesting false symptoms in order for her to get the attention she’s craving and sadly lacking.

In Morticia’s mind, there’s something wrong with her. But me…? Oh no, there’s apparently nothing wrong with me… I mean, they actually found something goofy in my EKG and found nothing in hers. But there’s something wrong with her heart and not mine. Yesterday we were discussing my diet (which is a very small list of things that are okay for me to have) and she told me I could have those things, I didn’t have high cholesterol. Now, she knows the doctor put me on meds for it… So I told her that yes, I did. She told me that I didn’t… Again, are you a doctor?! Did you see my lab results?! My cholesterol is 105 points higher than hers! It’s not horribly high, but it’s high enough that they put me on meds to keep it in check. Apparently, estrogen helps do that, but I haven’t had any in almost 13 years…

Yesterday, I had to do something I don’t like to do… I had to let the brain out to compose and important email…

I feel horrible when I have to do this. Especially when you need to write it because a large company or institution fucked you over. Morticia called while I was writing said email and I brushed her off, telling her I had to call her back, told her what I was doing and that I didn’t want to lose my flow. When I’m on a roll, don’t stop me… Anyway… I spoke to her after I was finished and told her what the email was about and that I had to pull out the brain, which I really do feel badly for doing. I never liked people knowing I have a brain. When they know, they tend to expect too much from you. So I choose to speak (and write) as your average Joe. It makes my life simpler. Besides, I don’t want to alienate people… Most of the time, I just let my brain sit there, growing cobwebs from lack of use. When I need it, I take it out, dust it off and shine it up nice and pretty to verbally slam anyone who needs verbal slamming. It could be someone who fucks me over or someone who treats me as if I’m stupid.

In some ways, I’m much like the character of Otto in A Fish Called Wanda… That’s a funny ass movie. Anyway, he always gets really offended when someone calls him or something he said stupid and will say, “Don’t call me stupid…” usually before he kicks the shit out of you. The difference between this character and myself is that Otto really is stupid…

On occasion, Morticia tries to compare her IQ with mine and acts as if we are equals in that department. Really… At least I know you don’t pronounce Italian as “eye-talian”, I know that “disorientated” is not proper grammar… I was accepted into the Johns Hopkins program (though I never accepted) when I was only 12 and had just started 7th grade. I read books that contain as many footnotes as they do actual content and never need to use them, such as books in Old English (think Beowulf). She’s nowhere near my level. Most people aren’t… I’m happier as a dumb ass. It’s my choice to act like one. Egg-heads don’t fit in anywhere…

Ah, well… I suppose I should take that all with a grain of salt, considering who it’s coming from…

I just don’t understand this weird competition she seems to be in with me. I mean… I’m no one special… I’m just your average, everyday girl (yeah, I know… but if you lump everyone into boys and girls, I’m a girl no matter how old my ass is). I grew up poor in a shit-splat little town of way under 3000 people. All I ever wanted was to create art and make people happy with it. I hated school, which the exception of art, chorus and English (my favorite classes) and could care less if I made good grades. Even now, I’m no one special. Still living in the same town, not doing much… There’s nothing glamorous or special about my life. Well… not unless you find being mentally ill or having some unfortunate health issues over the years glamorous… I know that I find being so depressed you can’t get out of bed, having anxiety so badly you need to take a pill 3 times a day every day just to function, crazy germ-phobe OCD and having to lose my ovaries to be very glamorous… Not… Trust me, there’s nothing special enough about me to compete with.

The only things that are special about me seem more like special-ed, hahahaa…

Even at this advanced age, I still love stuffed animals and buy them quite often. I have a fetish for pens and have to walk through the pen aisle of every store or I don’t feel “normal”… I went through a lot of trouble and expense just to replace a part of the My Little Pony collection my mother threw out. I love odd little things and collect anything that speaks to me. I still have a sticker fetish, I love cute, weird items, like my avocado cat sticker I bought over the weekend. His face is squishy! Squishing it makes me feel happy and silly. Admit it… you want to squish his face, too… But that’s about it. I’m just someone who’s more than a half bubble off center who gets more pleasure out of the little things in life than being some important person or someone with a high IQ. That’s nothing to be in competition with…

So, About Those Demons…

No, not this kind of demon! Although I’d probably like mine a lot better if they had a visage and looked like this… What the fuck, anime and manga artists! Stop making things that are supposed to be bad so incredibly hot!

All of us have our demons (again, sadly, not ones like the anime/manga types). Maybe it’s a regret you have over something you did or didn’t do, that time you should have turned right and made a left in life, that drunken one night stand… And those are more pleasant examples. Some of us have much worse demons to wrestle with.

Then there are the other kinds of demons… the ones that come with mental illness, the ones your brain creates to torture you and keep you living in fear and anguish forever. Your brain can be both your best friend and your worst enemy. It can keep you occupied when you’re bored or overthink things when you’re not occupied. It can give you the most pleasant dreams or the most horrifying of nightmares. And that’s if your brain is normal… But if you’re mentally ill… Well, that’s a whole different ball of wax. It in and of itself is quite literally your worst enemy. And you feel powerless against it.

Seriously, Japan… stop making such attractive demons!

As one who suffers from bipolar disorder, my brain obviously does wonky things. It can throw me into a deep depression where I do nothing but lie around like a useless lump for weeks or months on end or it throws me into hypo-manic states where I’m flipping shit on everything and everyone. Or it’ll rarely throw me into a hyper-manic state, which I kind of like because I’m super productive and energetic for about 4 days. The downside to this is the inevitable crash that comes afterward where I’m just this emotional mess that sits on the kitchen floor, curled up in a ball and crying. Fun times… But, truth be told, I can handle that fairly well, the depression and mania. I’ve been like this for so many years, most of which I wasn’t on meds (that was taboo back then, to admit you or a family member was mentally ill), so I had to control it on my own. And I think I did a damn good job, considering the fact that I’m still here and writing to you, dear readers…

But my crazy, bipolar mood swings aren’t the biggest demon I face every day… My demon’s name is anxiety…

Honestly, I can handle the ups and downs of being bipolar well enough. But anxiety… That’s the worst demon of all for me. It comes out of nowhere, “strike fast, strike hard, no mercy, sir!” (if you don’t get that reference, go watch the original Karate Kid). Nothing or everything can set it off and it’s damn near impossible to control once it’s struck. You’re suddenly in a full blown, 5 alarm state of panic and you have no idea why. Worse, anxiety like that can cause you to have physical symptoms which convince you that you’re having a heart attack, which causes more panic.

They can’t all be charming like Sebastian, here…

Once, many years ago, I was able to control that as well, once I knew what was happening. I was able to talk myself down by telling myself it was just an anxiety attack and I wasn’t dying, I’d be fine. Eventually it would pass.

But since menopause… I’ve been a total mess and nothing helps. It gets so out of control that, even if I tell myself it’s nothing more than an anxiety attack, I’m still thoroughly convinced I’m having a heart attack. Even though I now know why I have this issue (careful what you let your kids see on TV, folks), I can’t seem to shake it. In fact, my anxiety became so bad that my OCD went all out of whack. It used to just be checking to see if the door was locked a million times a day, things like that. But, the way I lost my ovaries… I felt as if nothing was under my control (not good for a control freak) and I developed a fear of germs. I have my “clean” areas in the house. Nothing comes into them without getting washed first and nothing dirty comes in. What a bother…

I’m literally a prisoner of my demon named anxiety… I can’t shake it, can’t control it. Not even meds help all the time…

Yesterday I decided to go shopping for a few things at this home store. Mind you, I live in an area where cities are more like large tons compared to big cities like New York or Los Angeles. So really, there’s nothing to freak out about, yet as soon as the car was in the parking lot, I began to panic and totally lose my shit. But I didn’t drive all that way for nothing, so I went in. Looking at all the interesting things, the beautiful decor and furniture, it kept my brain occupied enough that it shut up for a while. After that, I went to 2 more stores, one of which was Joanne’s. I love that store a little too much. Even with most things up to 90% off, I still spent more than I intended just because I was getting inspired with all the art supplies. Needless to say, shopping trips like that tend to throw me into a hyper-manic state and the anxiety goes away. But it always comes back…

Hopefully one day I’ll break free from the anxiety demons I carry around. At the very least, hopefully I can tame them and make them little, cute and fluffy…

Until then, I guess I’ll just have to try my damndest to tell myself that it’s nothing more than my brain turning against me and I’m fine. The downside to this is that, at some point, I won’t be fine and my dumb ass will be telling myself it’s just my anxiety… just like I did when I got my last EKG. I honestly thought my anxiety was just off the charts that day. Sadly, I was wrong… So now I have to try and determine every single time I have a fart twisted whether or not it’s worth worrying about because it’s just anxiety or if it really is a matter for concern. Some days I wish I could just curl up under my blanket and hide from the crazy part of my brain that tells me I’m going to die. Life would be so much bette that way…

Musings and Muses

Yes, I know I’ve used this drawing before, but, old as it is, it’s still one of my favorites. I was watching Xanadu, I believe, when I came up with the idea of what the muses would look like given a more modern day upgrade. This is what I came up with. Honestly, I still think it’s an amusing piece, even though I know damn well that I can draw much better and have improved a lot of my techniques over the years. But, then again, it wasn’t supposed to be the most gorgeous drawing. It was meant to be comical, which is why I drew them in this fashion.

Mind you, they used to have color that has chipped off.

I found this nice, brief description of the muses:

The nine muses in Greek mythology were goddesses of the arts and sciences, and were daughters of Zeus, the king of the gods, and Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory.

Thalia – Muse of comedy and idyllic poetry. She is usually shown holding a comic mask, a shepherd’s crook, and a wreath of ivy.
Melpomene [mel-po-men-ee] – Muse of tragedy. She is usually shown holding a tragic mask, the club of Hercules, and a wreath or vine leaves.
Clio – Muse of history.
Euterpe – Muse of lyric poetry.
Terpsichore – Muse of music and dancing.
Erato – Muse of erotic poetry.
Calliope – Muse of epic poetry and rhetoric.
Urania – Muse of astronomy.
Polyhymnia or Polymnia – Muse of sacred hymns and harmony. I’m sorry if that was a bit boring… I’ve had a passing’s for Greek mythology since I was a very young girl, so these stories and myths are like old friends to me.

Not gonna lie… That mask is creepy as fuck…

I feel like my own personal Muse right now is Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy…

Yeah, I wish I could say I was exaggerating on that. It just seems like, when something good happens, something always comes along to burst my bubble. Literally always… That’s why I’m a pessimist most of the time. Then, when bad things happen, I expected them to and I’m not surprised or disappointed. On the other hand, if things go well, it’s a pleasant surprise. Though I must admit, I’m sometimes skeptical… Good things happen so rarely that, when they do, I’m just sitting here waiting for that bomb to drop.

One got dropped the other day… I was so proud that I lost some weight that made it seem like I was getting somewhere finally. Yeah… I weighed in at that weight for about 2 days. I weighed myself yesterday and it said I gained 2 pounds back! What the actual fuck?! Is my scale defective, fucking with me?! Or did I really gain 2 pounds of blubber back?! I don’t get it… I do what that asshole nutritionalist says and I’m still not losing shit…

I also seem to have an anti-muse… That would be Morticia…

I know it’s her weekend off, but when I hadn’t heard from her and it was almost noon, I decided to work on one of my short stories. I had ideas just whizzing through my skull and I was so excited. I haven’t done anything creative in a long time. So I whip out my MacBook, get her fired up and pulled up the file. I typed maybe 2 words and my phone rang. I literally screamed, “Nooooooo!!” I knew it was her. Sure enough… She’ll sometimes call me a half dozen times a day and always to bitch about the same shit. Literally. I’m never in the mood for it, but yesterday I was really fed up. So I decided, since what she was blathering on about was nothing new, that I was going to watch a few of my Japanese music videos. I spent that entire conversation bopping around, lip synching and occasionally throwing in an “uh-huh”. She had no idea, but I didn’t hear one word she said. I had successfully tuned her out (thanks to L’Arc~en~Ciel).

So I’m in a good mood, which that band has that effect on me, and I managed to get off the phone with Morticia early, thinking I could start writing again. Nope… By then, whatever I had in my head was gone.

It’s that toxic effect she has on me… It’s as if she’s recorded herself on a loop reel or something… “Gomez and I had a fight (shocking), he’s such a dick, I’m tired of him treating me like shit. I hate my job. I can’t keep working 2 jobs, it’s too much. My hand is so bad, soon I won’t be able to take care of myself, I hate being crippled (this comes with crocodile tears). I’m so broke, I have no money, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for my car or my car insurance.” Literally, every single fucking time she calls! It’s enough to drive a person to drink… Maybe that’s why she drinks so much. But, you know, she’s not an alcoholic or anything. She drinks every day, but not to get drunk. She doesn’t need that drink, she wants it… I hate to tell her, but, she’s a fucking alcoholic! My family is riddled with them and, several years ago, I lost one of my cousins to alcohol. It’s sad… I remember when I was very little, maybe about 3 or 4. He was 17 and used to play his guitar for me. I loved listening to him. I don’t know what happened to change him.

Who is this character? I’d like to know because I’ve seen that look before… in the mirror…

Anyway… The point is, these are things that are easily solved or contradictory. You’re sick of Gomez treating you like shit? Dump his sorry ass! You hate your job? Go find a better one and quit! You can’t keep working 2 jobs? Make your shiftless kid and his girlfriend pay half the expenses and tell him to get a real job! Your hand is that fucked up? Go apply for disability and welfare like everyone else! See? These problems have simple solutions, she just doesn’t want to hear it. Though I did shut her up about being crippled… My alcoholic cousin’s wife was a hairdresser with rheumatoid arthritis. She’d get up in the morning, take a fist full of ibuprofen and wash it down with vodka to dull the pain so she could work. She died at 36 because of it. Morticia hasn’t said a work about being crippled since. Besides, I find it offensive. My knees are so bad, I can’t walk up stairs, can’t step up onto a sidewalk from the street, can’t sit on the toilet. I literally fall down because the pain is so bad and they give out. I sometimes use a cane. I don’t want to hear you’re “crippled”…

As for her not having money… Well, that’s her own fault. If you’re that broke, why is it you have money to run to the liquor store a few times a week? Why is it you have money to spend on local trips a few times a year? Better yet, how do you have money for a trip to fucking Mexico?! I guess she didn’t like what I had to say the other day because she changed the subject and began babbling about whether or not she needed a passport for her trip to Mexico in October… Where we live, you have to fly there or it would take forever. But… if you’re so short of funds and are wondering how you’re going to pay bills, how can you afford a trip to Mexico?! Priorities, woman! Priorities!!!

I know I shouldn’t let her bother me so much… That’s rather difficult to do when she calls so often whether I answer or not. It’s also difficult to do when someone just constantly dumps their baggage on you. Thanks, but I have enough of my own baggage that would fill an entire cargo hold of a 747. I don’t need that of other people.

She’s really affecting me in negative ways. I haven’t drawn much or written much at all, save for my profile picture, in probably about a year. I just can’t seem to find any Muse except Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy… I really need to tell her to piss off for a while, but even if I tell her I’m in a mood, I’ll call her when I’m feeling better, she still calls me. Yeah, I magically got better in an hour… So how do you nicely tell someone to fuck off for a while and tell someone who gives a flying fuck…? Thoughts? Please comment if you have any ideas, I’m desperate, here…

Things Are Looking A Bit Brighter

So I came on to write and share a bit of good news with you, my dear readers (not spectacular news, but it’s pretty good, I think) and I see I have a notification. I now have 35 of you following my blog! Thank you so much, all of you, for listening to my whining, bitching, freaking out and downright weirdness! You deserve the applause (from one of my favorite GIF files)!

Over the years, I’ve had many blogs… I think they’re all still active except for one and that’s because the site just went bye-bye… These things happen and that’s okay. But I still have multiple blogs that I’ve long since abandoned because… well… I was the only one who read them. Though it was nice to go back and see what I was thinking at the time at least. So I applaud you, all my followers! I feel very appreciated, like someone cares what I have to say! Thank you so much!

Now I’m going to applaud myself with a GIF… I just love Joseph Gordon Levitt… I follow him on Twitter and he is such a sweet man, seriously. But too young for me. I’d be a cougar, hahahaa…

Anyway, this is part of my good news, the reason I’m applauding myself. I’ve lost weight! And I don’t mean a pound or so! At my highest, I’m ashamed to say, was 182 (I’m 5’8″, so it didn’t look horrible). I got down to 180 where I hovered forever. I’ve been keeping an eye on it and it just seemed to be going nowhere. I was crushed and frustrated. I pay out of pocket for these hack nutritionalists and lost squat. Well, the past few days I’ve been checking my weight, watching it go down by a few ounces at a time. This morning, I weighed in at 175.8! Boo-ya, bitches! I lost almost 5 pounds! Go me!!!

I know you guys can’t see it, but I’m seriously doing a happy dance right now! But, rest assured, it’s not as bad as the “Carlton Dance” (for those who don’t get the reference, watch The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air). I’ve always liked to think that Alfonso Rivera really didn’t dance this bad…

At least I have something to keep me happy right now. With all this bad shit going on in the world and all the people seeming to be turning radical over every little thing, it’s nice that I have some good news for once! I’m tired of unhappy news… I’m tired of depression and anxiety. I need a bit of happy and this is it! I actually am losing some of that Cymbalta weight!

It’s about time, too… You know, I thought they were full of shit when they told me I wasn’t eating enough and had to eat more calories in a day to get my metabolism kick started. One of the drawbacks of surgically induced menopause… You literally lose everything, just like that. So your symptoms are 100 times worse and, on top of it, you have old lady issues, which include your metabolism going down the tubes.

So I’m feeling pretty cavalier at the moment and tried to find a picture to reflect that and found this…

Okay, I had no idea these guys had songs other that “AEIOU Sometimes Y“. I liked that song when it came out. Still do… Weird song, weird video… I thought it was a one hit wonder (a regular phenomenon in the 80s) and had no idea they had a whole album! And… I shouldn’t have looked up that song for you guys… Aside from the fact that it’s now stuck in my head, which is never a good thing because it will be there all damn day, but then they kept having all these other awesome 80s tunes listed in the sidebar! I swear, I just spent 5 minutes looking at them! “Ooh, I love that song!” *clicks on video and adds to favorites before seeing another that must be added*

However, I have odd tastes… Back when I was growing up, while everyone was only obsessed with popular groups, I also had a penchant for the weird groups/artists. Take for instance Thomas Dolby. Yeah, everyone and there mom knows “She Blinded Me With Science”. But actually, the first one I fell for was “Radio Silence” as well as “Europa and the Pirate Twins“. Those were and still are some of my favorites. Actually, it was “Radio Silence” that inspired the characters for the comic/manga (whichever you wish to call it). My main male character was actually fashioned after Thomas Dolby himself (to a degree). I mean, he doesn’t look exactly like him, but that was definitely where the inspiration came from.

And here he is… Wow, this drawing was made so long ago… I’m sure I can do better now, but it requires me to purchase a program I only had on my tower and another that doesn’t run on Mac, only Windows. I miss Paint Tool SAI…

I refuse to get into too much detail! If I do, where will the mystery be, right…? But I will tell you a bit about Sasuke, here. Obviously he’s a scientist (hence the lab coat) as Thomas Dolby, in some ways, portrayed himself in those 2 videos. But that wasn’t why I made him a scientist… it’s part of the storyline. Anyway… I’m sure you can guess from the picture that he’s not the nicest person. He’s a sociopath. Please don’t think all sociopaths are murderers like TV has you believe. They’re not (I should know). Sasuke has some feelings, but some he just can’t feel because he’s just incapable. He’s not good with people, has no idea how to communicate with them and tends to treat the lead female as a possession. He has his reasons… Anyway, that’s not what my point was. Can you see the Thomas Dolby inspiration here…? I hope so…

Maybe I should send him that drawing…

About 10 years ago (maybe more), I was just screwing around doodling things and made this little chibi of Thomas Dolby. I found he had a website, so I sent him an email. I had to send a link (it was too big to attach) and said I knew that opening strange links could be harmful to open, but that I hoped he would open this one to see the doodle I drew of him as it was too big to send. I told him how he had inspired the work I was currently doing and thanked him for it and hoped he liked the picture. Imagine my surprise that I got a reply! I’m sure it was written by his staff or whoever, but that short, 2 word reply of, “Sweet, thanks!” was enough to make me feel like I was queen of the world, if only for a short time. I could use that type of feeling again…

Wow, this entry was all over the place (I was distracted by 80s tunes). So I guess I’ll wrap it up with my newest “That 70s Island” picture! The pink rhino, Renee, had wanted to move… I had a hard choice between telling her not to go and to stay. But my male/female ratio is off. So what do I do? I move in Audie, the wolf (female). Ugh… But I really like her and she’s so cute! I’m hoping that I can get rid of one more female (she knows who she is) and then I’ll get another male. Maybe I’ll find the one I want!

I Wish I Could Go Deaf For A Day

Please don’t take offense to the title… Actually, I said this to a friend who is legally deaf and she thought my frankness was comical. So please don’t be offended. Normally I don’t care if I offend people, but I know this is something to get offended about…

Anyway… wouldn’t it be wonderful if they actually made a product like this…? I’d by “Shut The Fuck Up Spray” by the skid if they did! Then I’d hook it up to my garden hose for a broader range and shut a lot of people the fuck up. Imagine the possibilities! Life would be so much sweeter and more enjoyable if certain people would literally just shut the fuck up! It would be glorious!

I’m already making a mental list of the people I would use this on… But it would have to be the type of spray that would not only shut them the fuck up verbally, but also make them shut the fuck up on Facebook, Twitter… just every-fucking-where so you’d never have to hear or see their bullshit , their hate spreading, their narrow-mindedness ever again. We need this spray… Or someone needs to start giving out free lobotomies…

I know, you’re all wishing you could use that spray on me right now…

All I really want is peace and quiet. I want to go on facebook again and see funny memes or stories on how your life is going, cool pictures… You know, how it used to be before the elections when Trump somehow managed to get into office, before the country began falling apart, before COVID-19 and George Floyd… Before a group of crazy people began rioting, before police brutality reached its zenith, before everyone went full on fucking nut case, posting either horrible things or which lives matter and the inequality of communities. Listen, I don’t care what the fuck color you are, your religious affiliation, your sexual orientation… I’m looking at this from a logical standpoint. If you call yourselves a “community”, you’re the ones segregating yourselves. We’re all of us just one race… the human race. Though at this point, some people don’t belong in that category…

Take Morticia, for instance…

It was getting late last night and I thought, “Holy shit, a night of peace and quiet!” Nope… I was wrong. She called soon after that. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I have my own financial woes, my own health issues. I don’t need to hear hers every one of the half dozen times she calls me in a day. With this ischemia, I haven’t been feeling well and stress seems to make it a lot worse. But she doesn’t care about that… She only cares that I’m the one with a heart condition and why is it me and not her. Munchausen’s!

Last night she had heard, second hand, that some older gentleman got kicked out of a chain pharmacy and told not to come back because he was wearing an American flag shirt. She went off on a tangent, “He’s a vet! He fought for our country, he has every right to wear that! I want to go down there wearing mine! Just try and kick me out!” Seriously… there are more important things to get so incensed about. Besides, I told her, as per the constitution, the American flag is not to be used commercially as in clothing, tablecloths, paper plates, napkins, etc. Yet we still do it. Technically, every time you use the flag as anything other than the flag, you’re in the wrong.

She grumbled a bit, but eventually shut the fuck up about it… for a little while. I eventually told her I didn’t really care about such things. It’s just a flag. She got more pissed and told me that flag stands for freedom! I literally fucking laughed at her. I didn’t mean to, it just kind of slipped out. Or maybe I did mean to, I don’t know… I’m sorry, but for a country that’s so free and has freedom of speech, why does Facebook have these flying monkey minions not allowing me to post certain shit? And now that I called them on it, it’s worse than ever! Sorry, I thought you guys understood that private account means just that. Private… Stay the fuck out of my business. I think the thing is, as long as your opinion is one agreed upon by the masses, it’s okay to post. Otherwise, they’re going to be all over you like flies on shit. Yeah… that’s really freedom. We don’t have freedom of anything and haven’t for a long time.

The stupid thing is, those who know what’s going on with me and that I want to avoid any stress and bullshit, that I want to keep things as relaxed and calm as possible don’t seem to get it… What’s so hard to understand here?! I can’t have my heart racing like a fucking jackrabbit’s right now! I’m trying to avoid all negativity or flat out stupidity and lunacy until I go get that test done to see what’s really going on in there. And my appointment isn’t until July 27th… That’s over a month from now. And I have to avoid this shit until then?! I’m not sure it’s possible… Not unless I tell Morticia she’s toxic to me and I need to not talk to het for a little while. But there’s not way to put that politely, is there…? “Hey, I need to avoid you for a while because you’re one of my biggest stressors and my heart can’t handle that right now.” That… sounds impolite…

So for now, I’ll just keep playing my game to escape… I finally got the one piece I’ve been wanting, the Japanese pagoda, here. I put my beautiful moon seat neat to it with the star fragments and star crystals around it, even added some candles… This is my new favorite place on my island and I feel very happy and at peace when I see it. So I’m making a few other changes to my island. It keeps me busy but calm. That’s all I can do right now…