COMING SOON!

I am going to take some after pictures tonight, if I can remember. Otherwise I will do it tomorrow. All the things are done. ALL THE THINGS. As of this morning. Well, except I am going to refinish the coffee table I found. It was only $7, I figured for that price it was worth a little work. And Tuesday I will have TV.

Also, my dad and his girlfriend were in town this weekend. His girlfriend is my mom's former best friend, and my mom does not know they are dating.

Also also, my mom was supposed to come out here tomorrow with a friend of hers to go skiing, then she emailed me to "let me know" that she wasn't bringing her friend, and was instead going to stay at our house Tuesday through Saturday. Shockingly, I was able to tell her that wasn't OK, and we are now scheduled to meet in Boise on Friday for a couple of days. Don't worry, I will be back in time for the Packers game. So this means I get a couple-day reprieve between parental visits, which is...awesome. And I kind of stood up for myself with my mom. It almost made me vomit to tell her that it was not OK for her to invite herself to stay at my house for a week, but I DID IT GODDAMN IT.

I think I was only able to do it because I am so frazzled and on edge that I honestly could not handle the thought of her being in my home right now. Plus I am nursing a hangover on two hours' sleep. It added a sense of urgency.

Anyway, sorry for the boring post, but I PROMISE YOU WILL HAVE PICTURES SOON! AND MAYBE GRAPHS! LOOK, I WILL SPICE THIS UP RIGHT NOW WITH AN IMPROMPTU POEM!

The days are colliding and smearing
And so far the things that we're fearing
Have all come to pass,
Like ice in a glass,
Cold, smoking, and burned.

Hm. That was kind of depressing. Sorry.

The Thing Is, Sometimes I Ramble.

So I am just blowing off steam here right now. I have a guy in my house fixing my floor. And by house I mean apartment.

Yes, I am officially entirely moved over. And all the things-- well, most of the things, are in working order. There are appliances and a shower and everything. Electricity, even. My new TV will be hooked up on Tuesday. My couch and chair are perfect and I love them. The shelving I designed turned out absolutely perfect. The color of the walls is the best color EVAR. The floors are beautiful. The gas range has a burner that is LITERALLY MEANT TO MAKE GRAVY. Well, maybe not literally. Literally it is a burner for using a griddle top. BUT! BUT! You can put your entire roaster pan on it and it is PERFECT.

And yet.

And yet.

I cannot sleep. I am depressed and zombieish. I have problems maintaining any sort of positive outlook on anything. I think I may be addicted to an online game. I am scattered and sad and I have no idea what I am doing from one moment to the next. Everything sucks, everything is awful, and I feel like I am just malingering, and I need to get over it, or move on, or do something-- but I don't even know what I am supposed to do. Or how I am supposed to act. Or what is even going on. Like, what are we doing?

Does he honestly think this is a functional relationship, him living there and me living here? Does he think I am supposed to just be fine with this, like things are fine? Because they are not. Things suck, and I am chronically lonely, and I know that I take my self-worth from others, because I have not yet learned, after all of this time, to see that I am worth something on my own, without someone there to tell me that. And there is no one here, and when there is no one here, all I want is anyone to love me. And I know that is fucked up and stupid, and I should be able to learn to just be with myself and my thoughts or whatever, but MY THOUGHTS SUCK RIGHT NOW AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE A BATHTUB TO DROWN IN. Or drown my sorrows in. Look at me, ending sentences with prepositions! WOO HOO IT'S GETTIN' WILD IN HERE.

My point being that I do not even know if I want to be in this relationship, because I feel like I am a contortionist these days, trying to fit into what I need to be. I just want a break.

The only thing I am doing correctly right now is not drinking myself into a stupor. But that might just be because I lack the motivation to buy alcohol. I guess also I am still standing. But just barely.

GOD I AM SO PATHETIC.

I will probably delete this later. Or now.

Fuck me.

Doing All the Things

So I should be moved over to the apartment in... well, I'm going to say by December 20th. Right in time for Christmas... yay? The floors will be done on Wednesday, the appliances in late next week, and... then I just have to move my bed and clothes and stuff. So it will be... almost two months exactly since the bomb dropped.

Even though I'm so close, though, for some inexplicable reason, little things are starting to turn into IMPOSSIBLE SITUATIONS. Like, my friend who is a plumber cannot come plumb the line for the gas to the stove until late next week. BUT I WANT TO MOVE NOW. And now that I asked him to do it, and he came to check it out, I feel like I would rather just hire someone to do it and not have to wait. It is worth whatever I have to spend to get out of here. But I also feel bad because he has legit reasons for not doing it IMMEDIATELY TODAY, and that also made me feel guilty, like I am taking advantage of him or something UGH.

I just want it DONE. I don't want to be in limbo. And I know, I have zero furniture. Zero idea of what I am doing. Zero ability to envision the future. But I just want it DONE. So I can start trying to put myself together. Because every time I try to do that now, something happens to tear everything apart again. To make me feel like an interloper in my own life. Like I shouldn't have any hope. Like nothing will ever be OK again.

UGH.

Maybe I am just being overdramatic because I was sick today and feel like complaining and BLAH. And I read some of my therapy book and OF COURSE I feel like throwing puppies to sharks now. *sigh*

This cheerful note brought to you today by GLOOM AND DOOM.

Sorry, Charlie

Yeah, I deleted that post. The one that showed up in all of your readers and you can't access. Well, I "unpublished" it. Almost the same thing. Anyway, I did it because I was overtired/overemotional/over...drunk? maybe. But it was just a pathetic rant, the kind that you need to let out but you don't really need to let out in the open.

Things are still shitty. But I am going to be OK. Right? I mean, I am, she said, with finality and conviction.

One of my friends is a contractor, and he's charging me only an arm to put in all the flooring, not an arm and a leg. They started today. I got most of the painting done already. The appliances are going to be delivered Sunday.

Except I forgot to get a shower. Whoops. And I keep putting it off, every day I think of it. For no apparent reason. I am sure Guinny understands the whole not-understanding-this-ness of that.

I had to come back early because the wood for the floors came in to the store, and I had to get it into the apartment ASAP for it to "season" or acclimate or some shit. Anyway, it cut my weekend of me time short. I might end up doing it again next weekend; it kind of depends on how this week goes.

I am thankful for all of my friends. Without you, I would not be getting through this. With you, I am surviving.

P.S. Thinking about getting this couch. What say you, friends? I thought I'd ask you since I'm basically picking out a bed for you.

TMI

OK, so here is the deal. I have had cramps that feel like fucking labor contractions for the past THREE WEEKS. And I didn't know what it could be, but I suspected possibly a hernia (because I've been lifting weights and pulled something not too long ago) or an ectopic pregnancy. Because my mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario. And although I never go to the doctor, last week I caved and scheduled an appointment.

Then the pain started getting worse, to the point that I wanted to stab my ladyparts and carve out my uterus with a sawsall. Or, conversely, if it was a hernia, wanted to rip out my intestines and beat the everliving fuck out of them. So the pain, combined with my overactive imagination and general stress, gave me so much anxiety that I couldn't sleep. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and just lie there, thinking about all of the things I wanted to do before I died. Feeling my abdomen to make sure my intestines hadn't hardened up and died. Weighing the benefits of going to the ER vs. the cost of going to the ER.

So after too many sleepless nights, too much pain, and lying awake until 8AM when the walk-in clinic opened, I went to the doctor the day before my scheduled appointment. Victory: me, because I paid $160 at the clinic instead of $630 at the ER. I do feel good about that.

Unfortunately, the doc told me I have an ovarian cyst. There are NONE OF THE THINGS to do about it except possible surgery, unless I can get the motherfucker to go away before Monday. You best be believin' I'm doing everything short of literally punching myself in the ovaries to avoid surgery. Actually, I totally did punch myself in the ovaries. Because I am simultaneously that hardcore and frightened like a child that I may have to go under the knife.

I am going to make this motherfucker go away. One way or another.

Hermit Crab

So, I am not sure if any of you have ever dealt with... well, I will call it "self-help shit" for lack of a better term. You know what I'm talking about-- dealing with demons, facing fears, cleaning closets. That kind of shit.

But if you have.

MOTHERFUCKING WHAT. I mean, how do you deal with it? It is exhausting and draining and... well, more than anything for me, apparently, it is enraging. I mean, I'm doing the baby stepping. I'm not a slacker!

But to me, all of this sifting through feelings and emotions and wading through personal history and... shit... is shit. I get so effing ANGRY every time I try to step forward. Even though I know that what is best for me is dealing with this shit so I don't have to feel broken and fucked up and shitty (I know, I know, I'm not, but that is how I feel, regardless, and anything you say is not going to change that, only going through this process will, and LOOK HOW GOOD my brain knows these things, WHY can my... rest of me... not catch up!!).

Anyway. That is why I have not been around as much. Because I am trying to deal, and I'm not talking about cards. I'm trying to chill, and I'm not talking about A/C. I'm trying to be a rock, and I'm not talking about AC/DC. HAHAHAHA see what I did there?

OK. So I'm still me. But... yeah. It is not the most fun I've ever had in my life.

Things That Overwhelm Me

The sensation of being overwhelmed is not necessarily a bad one. You can be overwhelmed with joy, with happiness, with pleasure, with excitement.

Then again, you can be overwhelmed with pressure, fear, stress, anxiety, and hunger.

I am slightly hungry right now, but not nearly enough for status overwhelmed.

I am, however, a touch overwhelmed with the things going on in my life right now. If by "things going on in my life" I mean emotional baggage I have been carrying around for absolute ages that is starting to get too heavy. Like, if I was flying, they would make me pay $100 to check it. Which, I guess, means that it is over 50 pounds, and when I think about it that way, it doesn't seem like much. I mean, I can lift 50 pounds easily. Carrying it around all the time might get... cumbersome. But it's not like it would be impossible.

Sometimes, labels overwhelm me. Naming things with such definitiveness, when it is possible-- no, probable!-- that there is more to it than one multi-syllabic label. I mean, look at the ingredients on the back of your Gatorade. I am more complex than that. I am not one label.

It is easy to be overwhelmed by a label, too, though. Whether it's "dyslexia" or "Prada". One for one reason, one for another. That's why we have names, not labels.

You can call me Overwhelmed.

Modern Family and McDonalds

1. Modern Family is one of the best shows I have seen in recent history. It is hilarious, all of the people are beautiful (especially Sophia Vergara, who is worth watching any amount of any show for a mere glimpse).

I told you. I KNOW!!!! SHE IS SO GORGEOUS.

And let's be honest, we watch television to forget our own problems, to laugh at those of others, and to ogle beautiful people. What makes this one rise above, though, is its ability to renew your faith in human nature. The way that it makes your heart glow with love. It is a family that is neurotic, hot-tempered, at-odds, and under siege, that still makes it all come together in the end because they love each other. A modern-day fairytale.

2. McDonalds
WHY IS THE FOOD SO CHEAP WHEN IT IS SO FUCKING BAD FOR YOU. WHY, I ASK YOU. Also, there is a Chicken McNugget shaped like America. That was not a mistake. The mere SMELL of the Happy Meal wafting to my nose from the back seat of the car makes me want to jump ship and just wallow in fries and nuggets and paper-thin burgers until I can't wallow anymore because my chins are impeding the movement of my belly rolls.

GRRRROWL.

This whole month so far has sucked ginormous baboon balls.

The other day, the kid said that he was "spanking" one of his stuffed animals. Since we have never spanked him in our lives, we started asking questions. Which led to one of his recently hired preschool teachers being fired on the spot.

An excerpt from the letter I typed out for the school records:

After he told us this, we tried not to ask any questions that would lead him to say one thing or another. We asked him if he liked Miss *****, and he said “I like her but she doesn’t like me.” When I asked him why he thought she didn’t like him, he said “Because she spanks me and then she puts me on the naughty bench.” We asked him if Miss **** likes the other kids, and he replied with, “She likes some of the kids, but she spanks them, and she washes their mouths out with soap.” Again, this is a disciplinary method we have never even mentioned in our household, so he would have no idea what it was without an outside source. I asked him what washing your mouth out with soap meant, and he said, “It’s where you have to get soap in your mouth because you said a bad word.” I asked him how it happens, and he said, “Miss **** squeezes soap in your mouth and you can’t swallow it or spit it out and you have to sit on the naughty bench with soap in your mouth.”

WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF WORLD ARE WE LIVING IN. I was so sad that he hadn't told us sooner. That despite all of the sheltering and interviewing of schools and all of that, this happened. And yeah, he said he hadn't had his mouth washed out with soap, although he named a couple of kids who had. And he's three, so I don't know if he even understands the difference between the truth and a lie, but regardless, that woman was not being loving and good to him.

The preschool owner is a wonderful woman, and she hired this girl recently to help while she is on maternity leave. She genuinely loves the kids, and the kids love her. But even that didn't keep the wolves out of the chicken coop.

Sigh.

I am so tired.

Watch Your Step

Hop on the bus. We are going to take a little daytrip over to Serioustown.

After a number of hurty and self-hate-inducing things occurred recently in my life, I was quickly brought down to earth by the same things happening in the lives of my friends. It seems that self-repugnance and general feelings of idiocy and deserved solitude are going around when perhaps they should not be. So I feel that I need to share something with you.

I am the kind of person who only understands my own fault in any given problem scenario. If I go to a restaurant and the service is shitty, it is because the server hates me. If one of the store's orders doesn't ship, it is because I somehow placed the order incorrectly. If the milk goes bad, it is because I fucked with its tai chi.

I know. This is fucked up. It is totally fucked up. Also self-centered, in a twisted way. But I am not coming from a place of selfishness. Who would want ALL THE BAD THINGS? Not me. HOWEVER.

What I do know is that if these scenarios were being played out in my friends' lives, I would be all, "You are not perfect, because you are human. But you are lovely and beautiful, because you are a good person. It is the circumstances of your life that are fucked up. It is not your fault that the rain fell on that parade today."

I think, sometimes, that it is like an impressionist painting.

Ugly

This? By itself? Is an ugly kind of fuzzy blur of gray. It is how I view myself. My fucked up problems. Because I am right in the middle of it, all close up.

This, though?

Beautiful

Is the Cliffs at Etretat. The first image is part of it, viewed close up. I KNOW. I AM BEING SO TRITE WITH THIS. But for real, when you are inside of it all, you cannot see the big picture. You see some tiny piece that seems insignificant, fucked up, and ugly.

But on the outside? Everyone else sees a masterpiece.

It may seem, to you, that you have fucked your life up big time. That your window to the world is broken and shuttered. And yes, I initially wrote "shittered," and that works, too.

But guess what. Chicken butt.

No, no, no, I am trying to be serious. OK, Guess what. Your view of you is too close sometimes to be accurate. You need to step back to see the real you, except for you that is basically impossible. This means you need to depend on your friends-- the people around you who LOVE you, not the other people around you-- to remind you what kind of person you are. And when they tell you that you are beautiful, that you are trying as hard as you can, that you are the kind of friend or partner or sibling or parent or kid that anyone would be lucky to have, that you should not be so hard on yourself, that you make everything you touch turn to flowers--

Well, you should listen to them. Because they are standing about five feet back, and that is the optimal viewing condition, right there. Just out of arm's reach. You can't hit them, but they can blow kisses. Because I know you don't want to hear this, but they are going to fucking tell you, for Gods' sake, and you are going to listen,

Dammit.

And just so you know, I wasn't just writing this to be my own cheerleader. This is for you.

Google+

Here's the deal.

I still have an antiquated yahoo account for my email. I know, I know, I should have made the switch lightyears ago, when most of you were infants or fetuses in the womb. Feti? Fetae? I think fetuses is right.

REGARDLESS. I have two gmail accounts, neither of which I use. One is just for writing and commenting on blogger. The other one was a requirement for getting my Droid, which is definitely a racket on the part of google. I do not check those emails. At all.

OK, second thing: I am kind of paranoid about the intersection of my online and offline lives. Like, who knows if you are all not just reading this from San Quentin or Alcatraz or something? Or worse, some dingy room lined with pictures of me and locks of my hair, obtained in the creepiest of ways?

Um, sorry about that. I mean, I am sure you are fine. But it's those other loonies out there. WHO CAN YOU TRUST THESE DAYS and all that.

I will just stop beating around the bush and say that Google+, Google's answer to Facebook*, aside from having a really annoying "+" in its name, which means my fingers don't know where the key is and I have to actually look for it, is traumatizing me by foisting upon me an existential dilemma for the computer age.

I don't know which email address to use-- my "real" one, which I don't use but has my actual name in it, or my "public" one, which has no connection to me and won't even be found if I die. It is this huge quandary for me. Do I lower the veil on this one? Or do I maintain the separation in my life?

I know that it is not good for one's psychosomatic health to be all dividing things up into neat little boxes that way. People don't work that way. We are complicated behemoths, and our personalities and problems and emotions and wills are bound up in our sense of self. It's probably not healthy to divide them up this way, with one persona for one set of feelings and desires and confessions, and another for another.

GRR. I mean, it bothers me that I have a journal where I write about the things that I am ashamed to tell everyone, the secret heart of me that is not proud and bold. I would rather have ALL THE THINGS here, in one place, the good, bad, and ugly, but I am just not brave enough. Not yet.

Which takes me back to the whole Google_(()_*_)_(_+ THERE IT IS debacle. I don't like being reminded of my inability to accept all the things about myself. To show everyone, to be honest with you, about who I am. But at the same time, my sense of self-preservation, which is usually totally content to hide behind the football bleachers, smoking pot, has chosen this seemingly insignificant event to rouse itself.

Self, you are confusing. Google()_+DAMMIT, you are kind of just a piss-off to me right now. And Facebook, I am kinda pissed at you just because you won't let me be complacent.

And this probably didn't even make sense. Hmph. Whatever. I UNDERSTOOD IT. Which might be part of the problem. GRRROWL.

Oh, for the simpler times, when we just had to worry about who our parents were going to marry us off to.


*I don't even understand this, because Google owns 10% of Facebook, so... WTF.

The Cycle

1. OPEN MOUTH

2. INSERT FOOT

3. THINK YOU HAVE LEARNED YOUR LESSON

4. REPEAT

And That's All We Have Time for Today

Flop onto the couch
And tell me your problems.

Don't be shy, I've heard it all.
Grotesque fantasies,
Horrifying memories,
The heavy weight of guilt,
Crushing pain of hatred,
Blank numbness of ennui.

I've heard it all.

And you may think you're special
With your abnormalities
But I am here to tell you

You're as normal
As everyone I see
In one-hour increments
Five days a week.

PANIC

Why does communicating with people sometimes send me into a blind panic? For real. I had to check my voicemail, and I am supposed to call my grandma, who is not feeling well and is 89, and one of my best friends, whom I have not spoken with in months. These are people I love, and I should not be dreading this.

It is now 4:00, I've been off of work for FOUR HOURS, and I managed to check my voicemail (which I haven't done in literally over a month). Just going through and deleting all of the messages got me sweating. Like I had run a mile or something. I wrote nothing down. I tried to remember some of the details. Mostly, I deleted.

FOR GOD'S SAKE, PEOPLE. IF I HAVE NOT ASKED YOU TO CALL ME, PLEASE DO NOT CALL ME.

I almost hung up immediately, but the first message on my voicemail is one I've saved for years. It's from January of 2009. Literally, saved for years. And it makes me smile. And the second one is one that I've been saving for a while, too, because it makes me happy. So I had the two happy messages to give me the courage to wade through the rest of them.

Now I have those two phone calls. I need to just man up and get it over with. ARGH I AM SUCH A BABY SOMETIMES.