10:18AM - 4/30/06
~The fears of a clown
I’m not awake… sort of. Everything feels twisted and off. It’s not a pleasant feeling. Took me a good hour this morning to figure out what the hell I was talking about last night, when I came up with the title “Clownie pins”. Pin down the clown? Pins that clowns use? Pins with clowns on them? Indeed. Yes, I’m sure that they could be used to sedate a clown (like me), and of all the clowns I’ve ever known about, I’d have to say that “Clownie”, from Spawn, would be a good choice for representing at least one of my alter egos. Klonipin. …or is it Klonapin? Yeah, I couldn’t remember last night either, hence my creating “Clownie pins”.
At some point, about midway through that entry, I headed for lala land. Between the Inderal, the many beers, and the Clownie pins, I had a rather long nap. I have no clue who I was upset with last night, but I did notice that my mother had called, when I looked at my phone this morning. Who knows? Inderal takes care of a lot of that for me, that pesky actually remembering things habit. Memory loss is lots of fun. I said what? Ummmmm… ok, I’ll take your word for it.
I am so not doing well. This really sucks. I’m trying my best to get through this, but I fear that by writing during this psycho-stretch I’m trashing what’s left of my dignity. Every now and again, I do care what people think about me. I try to keep that in mind during the other times, when I don’t give a flying fuck what other people think about me. Right now though, I don’t know whether I care or not. I seem to be apologizing a lot lately. I guess that I must care a little bit.
I think that I have to get back into bed.
Sorry
7:54PM - 4/30/06
~Hay Hey Haye
I suppose
okay?
that I just could
drink my way
into May
okay?
Sounds like a plan
just like any other day
day
It's all one
long
day.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
April 29, 2006
10:21AM - 4/29/06
~a mouthful
I once read an online conversation where people were discussing whether or not it was actually possible for a man to really be a feminist.
Tell me, what better way is there for a very masculine man to prove to other men that it's not being a woman that makes one submissive, aside from announcing to the world that he enjoys having dick in his mouth?
Identifying as "Gay" is something I do because I'm a feminist.
It's my way of saying, you can't treat her like crap just because she sucks your cock, unless you want to take me on too.
5:41PM - 4/29/06
~Clownie pins
That new Psych med? So far, no good. Took it a little while ago.
Getting tired though. I suppose that's good. Maybe I'll sleep.
(interjection (worry about spelling) - Maybe I WON'T think of YOU.
Damn memory.
Yay. A life medicated.
Wake me up when it's over.
~a mouthful
I once read an online conversation where people were discussing whether or not it was actually possible for a man to really be a feminist.
Tell me, what better way is there for a very masculine man to prove to other men that it's not being a woman that makes one submissive, aside from announcing to the world that he enjoys having dick in his mouth?
Identifying as "Gay" is something I do because I'm a feminist.
It's my way of saying, you can't treat her like crap just because she sucks your cock, unless you want to take me on too.
5:41PM - 4/29/06
~Clownie pins
That new Psych med? So far, no good. Took it a little while ago.
Getting tired though. I suppose that's good. Maybe I'll sleep.
(interjection (worry about spelling) - Maybe I WON'T think of YOU.
Damn memory.
Yay. A life medicated.
Wake me up when it's over.
Friday, April 28, 2006
April 28, 2006
6:44 PM - 4/28/06
~I shoulda been in picschahs.
There are a million thoughts running through my head... they're running so fast that I can't type them or write them down. I can barely get them into sentences before another one takes its place.
Last night I spent about two hours talking to myself. It was a good show. I laughed! I cried! It was better than Cats!
(It does often occur to me to invest in a movie camera, rather than attempting a book. I could probably cover a lot more ground.)
When you think of it, there is very little difference between writing and performing "stand-up"... or between writing and talking to oneself. There is the thing about the audience, and what to wear, and there's no back space or edit button, but other than that, it's basically the same. Anything I write is first composed in my head. There's always the option of saying it, rather than writing it onto the screen or paper.
When I can't write, for any reason, I talk to myself a lot. It's about venting... about organizing my thoughts... about allowing myself to see things from a different perspective. If, in the middle of your monologue about your life, you break out into tears, you know better what really upset you. If you laugh, you can better see what you're healing from, in some respects.
Yes, I know that it's just one more thing that might help to label me "nuts", but I really can't say that I care. I'll freely admit that I'm crazy. Shoot, I'll take out ads.
There's a very fine line between "crazy" and "genius" though. It's called "perspective".
~I shoulda been in picschahs.
There are a million thoughts running through my head... they're running so fast that I can't type them or write them down. I can barely get them into sentences before another one takes its place.
Last night I spent about two hours talking to myself. It was a good show. I laughed! I cried! It was better than Cats!
(It does often occur to me to invest in a movie camera, rather than attempting a book. I could probably cover a lot more ground.)
When you think of it, there is very little difference between writing and performing "stand-up"... or between writing and talking to oneself. There is the thing about the audience, and what to wear, and there's no back space or edit button, but other than that, it's basically the same. Anything I write is first composed in my head. There's always the option of saying it, rather than writing it onto the screen or paper.
When I can't write, for any reason, I talk to myself a lot. It's about venting... about organizing my thoughts... about allowing myself to see things from a different perspective. If, in the middle of your monologue about your life, you break out into tears, you know better what really upset you. If you laugh, you can better see what you're healing from, in some respects.
Yes, I know that it's just one more thing that might help to label me "nuts", but I really can't say that I care. I'll freely admit that I'm crazy. Shoot, I'll take out ads.
There's a very fine line between "crazy" and "genius" though. It's called "perspective".
Thursday, April 27, 2006
April 27, 2006
6:19 AM - 4/27/06
~One, two, gotta hurl poo...
Going in and out of this blinding rage. The physical symptoms are getting worse too. Called Neurodude, who surprisingly called me back within a couple of hours. He called in a prescription for another psych med, which I'll tenatively use. They scare me, head meds. I have to try something though. The rage is getting pretty bad. He's also setting up an appointment for me to go see some sort of ear dude. My ears have been ringing for months now, and lately they're starting to get even worse. I had to chuckle little. I told Neurodude that I'd report back to him that I do indeed have MS, as soon as possible. (He actually chuckled at that one himself.)
I'm pretty tired. I took a Propranolol, yesterday about noonish, to carry me over until I have the Inderal today. That makes me a little drowsy, until my system gets used to it. I look forward to seeing RavensWings today, but feel bad that I'm already so damn sleepy. I worry about falling at the store, too. My legs collapsed yesterday. That hasn't happened in a while.
So, life with MS continues. You should probably wear some sort of protective clothing. I can't promise that intense shit hurling will not occur.
I'm doing my best.
6:42 PM - 4/27/06
~Just a note to say that
I'm really, really sorry. I'm not doing well. Actually, it's scaring me right now.
I'm hoping that it's just the Inderal... but the last couple of weeks have been bad, and getting worse every day, and I wasn't back on the Inderal yet.
I'll do my best not to be too scarce. I don't want to get people too worried. ...and anyway, I miss you dork-butts, if I can't get to the computer.
So, just know that if I'm not too present, it's nothing personal. It's just that my eyes are pretty bad, my fingers are tripping over themselves, and I'm in an obscene amount of pain just trying to sit here. It's not for lack of caring.
~One, two, gotta hurl poo...
Going in and out of this blinding rage. The physical symptoms are getting worse too. Called Neurodude, who surprisingly called me back within a couple of hours. He called in a prescription for another psych med, which I'll tenatively use. They scare me, head meds. I have to try something though. The rage is getting pretty bad. He's also setting up an appointment for me to go see some sort of ear dude. My ears have been ringing for months now, and lately they're starting to get even worse. I had to chuckle little. I told Neurodude that I'd report back to him that I do indeed have MS, as soon as possible. (He actually chuckled at that one himself.)
I'm pretty tired. I took a Propranolol, yesterday about noonish, to carry me over until I have the Inderal today. That makes me a little drowsy, until my system gets used to it. I look forward to seeing RavensWings today, but feel bad that I'm already so damn sleepy. I worry about falling at the store, too. My legs collapsed yesterday. That hasn't happened in a while.
So, life with MS continues. You should probably wear some sort of protective clothing. I can't promise that intense shit hurling will not occur.
I'm doing my best.
6:42 PM - 4/27/06
~Just a note to say that
I'm really, really sorry. I'm not doing well. Actually, it's scaring me right now.
I'm hoping that it's just the Inderal... but the last couple of weeks have been bad, and getting worse every day, and I wasn't back on the Inderal yet.
I'll do my best not to be too scarce. I don't want to get people too worried. ...and anyway, I miss you dork-butts, if I can't get to the computer.
So, just know that if I'm not too present, it's nothing personal. It's just that my eyes are pretty bad, my fingers are tripping over themselves, and I'm in an obscene amount of pain just trying to sit here. It's not for lack of caring.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
April 26, 2006
8:05 AM - 4/26/06
~Now here
I'm feeling rather odd. Can't seem to get my bearings. Everything feels off somehow... abstract.
It's interesting that often I want to crawl into a hole, and at the same time, be around groups of people. I think that it has something to do with the fact that being around groups of people forces one to crawl into oneself. Either way, in a hole or around many people, you're forced into a corner of your mind that is there for the purpose of... the purpose of... I don't know. I guess that maybe it's just about a feeling of vulnerability... about wanting to hide... about wanting to protect yourself. In the hole, I'm hidden from the world. Around people, I'm forced to put on a costume and "behave". Either way, I'm really nowhere... out of touch.
I'm tired. I need sleep. My brain is exhausting me.
12:08 PM - 4/26/06
~Having to say, "Yes".
ok, it's official, if I don't go back on Blood Pressure meds, I'm going to have a fucking stroke, if I don't have a heart attack first.
I AM NOT happy about this
I called the Pharmacy. The State is going to pick up the bulk of the cost, because Medicare D won't cover it. So, it's back on the Inderal I go, until I can get my doc to write me a scrip for a different medication.
I might be a little more stupid, but I'll probably be less of a prick. As usual, I apologize in advance.
7:46 PM - 4/26/06
~It's not stopping
I'm really, really, REALLY FUCKING ANGRY!!!!
I hate this shit. I hate this fucking disease!!!
...and you know what, I'm starting to HATE THIS BLOG.
I don't need answers!
I don't need a fucking cheering section!
I just need people to read and show a little fucking compassion!!!
I'm tired of having to fucking explain myself and the realities of my life!!!
SOMETIMES I JUST NEED TO VENT!!!!!!!!!
Do you know how many times I've had to accept help from people and had them rub it in my face? Do you know how many times I've had to let people walk all over me because they helped me out? Do you know how many times people have promised me that they'd "NEVER do that to me" and then did it?!!?!!! Do you know how many times I've (metaphorically) been starving and had "friends" dangle food in front of my face and make me beg? No! Of course you don't, that's because I won't go into it... because THAT would make me UNGRATEFUL for all of their "help".
I'd rather STEAL money from people. That way they can treat me like shit, and inside I'll know that I deserve it.
There. Much better. I knew that I had this blog for a reason.
~Now here
I'm feeling rather odd. Can't seem to get my bearings. Everything feels off somehow... abstract.
It's interesting that often I want to crawl into a hole, and at the same time, be around groups of people. I think that it has something to do with the fact that being around groups of people forces one to crawl into oneself. Either way, in a hole or around many people, you're forced into a corner of your mind that is there for the purpose of... the purpose of... I don't know. I guess that maybe it's just about a feeling of vulnerability... about wanting to hide... about wanting to protect yourself. In the hole, I'm hidden from the world. Around people, I'm forced to put on a costume and "behave". Either way, I'm really nowhere... out of touch.
I'm tired. I need sleep. My brain is exhausting me.
12:08 PM - 4/26/06
~Having to say, "Yes".
ok, it's official, if I don't go back on Blood Pressure meds, I'm going to have a fucking stroke, if I don't have a heart attack first.
I AM NOT happy about this
I called the Pharmacy. The State is going to pick up the bulk of the cost, because Medicare D won't cover it. So, it's back on the Inderal I go, until I can get my doc to write me a scrip for a different medication.
I might be a little more stupid, but I'll probably be less of a prick. As usual, I apologize in advance.
7:46 PM - 4/26/06
~It's not stopping
I'm really, really, REALLY FUCKING ANGRY!!!!
I hate this shit. I hate this fucking disease!!!
...and you know what, I'm starting to HATE THIS BLOG.
I don't need answers!
I don't need a fucking cheering section!
I just need people to read and show a little fucking compassion!!!
I'm tired of having to fucking explain myself and the realities of my life!!!
SOMETIMES I JUST NEED TO VENT!!!!!!!!!
Do you know how many times I've had to accept help from people and had them rub it in my face? Do you know how many times I've had to let people walk all over me because they helped me out? Do you know how many times people have promised me that they'd "NEVER do that to me" and then did it?!!?!!! Do you know how many times I've (metaphorically) been starving and had "friends" dangle food in front of my face and make me beg? No! Of course you don't, that's because I won't go into it... because THAT would make me UNGRATEFUL for all of their "help".
I'd rather STEAL money from people. That way they can treat me like shit, and inside I'll know that I deserve it.
There. Much better. I knew that I had this blog for a reason.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
April 25, 2006
7:20 AM - 4/25/06
~What month is it?
Last night was rough. There's a lot of shit that comes along with MS. Pain is one of those turds. Last night I was dancing all over that pain scale. Today, I'm hoping to get a shower at some point between songs.
Yes, this computer is frustrating. The average time for opening a window, any window, online or off, is 13 seconds. Not that I'm not glad that I have the use of it. If I didn't have this, I'd have no Internet access at all, and that would suck beyond belief.
I don't know yet what I'm going to do. The only thing that might fix the problem is time. I do plan on trying Circuit City, but I fear that they'll not ok me for any amount of credit either. It's not just the bankruptcy that hasn't dropped off the credit report yet. My actual income is only about 12K a year. No one in their right mind loans money to strangers with that income.
Should I set up an account and accept donations? Maybe.The general opinion is that I should. Can I though? In all honesty, I don't know. I went to the Dell website yesterday and almost cried. The site itself completely overloaded my brain.
If I can manage to get some functional time today, I have to fill out the forms that the State sent me. They have to make sure that I still still need their assistance for my health care costs.
Although very dramatic, life really isn't very fun right now.
~What month is it?
Last night was rough. There's a lot of shit that comes along with MS. Pain is one of those turds. Last night I was dancing all over that pain scale. Today, I'm hoping to get a shower at some point between songs.
Yes, this computer is frustrating. The average time for opening a window, any window, online or off, is 13 seconds. Not that I'm not glad that I have the use of it. If I didn't have this, I'd have no Internet access at all, and that would suck beyond belief.
I don't know yet what I'm going to do. The only thing that might fix the problem is time. I do plan on trying Circuit City, but I fear that they'll not ok me for any amount of credit either. It's not just the bankruptcy that hasn't dropped off the credit report yet. My actual income is only about 12K a year. No one in their right mind loans money to strangers with that income.
Should I set up an account and accept donations? Maybe.The general opinion is that I should. Can I though? In all honesty, I don't know. I went to the Dell website yesterday and almost cried. The site itself completely overloaded my brain.
If I can manage to get some functional time today, I have to fill out the forms that the State sent me. They have to make sure that I still still need their assistance for my health care costs.
Although very dramatic, life really isn't very fun right now.
Monday, April 24, 2006
April 24, 2006
11:47 AM - 4/24/06
~stupid
After spending the night on the phone, talking to my ex, I suddenly realized... I need a better support system.
7:20 PM - 4/24/06
My gut is pretty smart
DSM Writers Had Industry Ties: Study
By Lisa Richwine
WASHINGTON (Reuters) Apr 21 - Most of the experts who wrote the widely used Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) have had financial ties to drug makers such as research funding or stock holdings, U.S. researchers said on Thursday.
Writing in a new study, they called for full disclosure of the relationships between companies and the medical experts on panels that craft future editions of the DSM.
"Transparency is especially important when there are multiple and continuous financial relationships between panel members and the pharmaceutical industry, because of the greater likelihood that the drug industry may be exerting an undue influence," the researchers write in a study to be published in Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics.
The American Psychiatric Association, which publishes the DSM, said it would require financial disclosures for the next version, due out in 2011.
The study found 56% of 170 psychiatric experts who worked on the most recent edition, published in 1994, had at least one financial link to a drug maker at some point from 1989 through 2004. The relationships included speaking or consulting fees, ownership of company stock, payment for gifts and travel and funding for research.
All of the experts who developed sections defining mood disorders, schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders had such links, the researchers from the University of Massachusetts and Tufts University found. "The connections are especially strong in those diagnostic areas where drugs are the first line of treatment for mental disorders," the report says.
Dr. Darrel Regier, director of the American Psychiatric Association's research division, said the study was "an attempt to develop probably some guilt by association with the pharmaceutical industry."
He said he did not believe financial connections to companies influenced development of the manual. If none of the experts were involved with the industry, "that would mean they were really out of step with the major advances in the treatment of mental illness," he said.
The authors of the new study said they based their findings on searches of various databases, financial disclosures in medical journals and other records. They said they could not determine if the experts had ties to the companies while they were working on the manual.
But Lisa Cosgrove, one of the study's authors, said the associations could raise questions even if they occurred after the experts updated the DSM.
"They can certainly leverage their participation on the DSM, which is very prestigious, into lucrative consulting contracts," said Cosgrove, a clinical psychologist at the University of Massachusetts in Boston.
Ken Johnson, a spokesman for the Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, said the industry group had not yet reviewed the study. "But it is important to note that the physicians and other health care professionals who sit on expert medical advisory panels have impeccable integrity and base their decisions on independent judgments and research," he said.
7:21 PM - 4/24/06
~Crappy day
I'm feeling too shitty to even write about how shitty I feel.
That's pretty damn sad.
~stupid
After spending the night on the phone, talking to my ex, I suddenly realized... I need a better support system.
7:20 PM - 4/24/06
My gut is pretty smart
DSM Writers Had Industry Ties: Study
By Lisa Richwine
WASHINGTON (Reuters) Apr 21 - Most of the experts who wrote the widely used Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) have had financial ties to drug makers such as research funding or stock holdings, U.S. researchers said on Thursday.
Writing in a new study, they called for full disclosure of the relationships between companies and the medical experts on panels that craft future editions of the DSM.
"Transparency is especially important when there are multiple and continuous financial relationships between panel members and the pharmaceutical industry, because of the greater likelihood that the drug industry may be exerting an undue influence," the researchers write in a study to be published in Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics.
The American Psychiatric Association, which publishes the DSM, said it would require financial disclosures for the next version, due out in 2011.
The study found 56% of 170 psychiatric experts who worked on the most recent edition, published in 1994, had at least one financial link to a drug maker at some point from 1989 through 2004. The relationships included speaking or consulting fees, ownership of company stock, payment for gifts and travel and funding for research.
All of the experts who developed sections defining mood disorders, schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders had such links, the researchers from the University of Massachusetts and Tufts University found. "The connections are especially strong in those diagnostic areas where drugs are the first line of treatment for mental disorders," the report says.
Dr. Darrel Regier, director of the American Psychiatric Association's research division, said the study was "an attempt to develop probably some guilt by association with the pharmaceutical industry."
He said he did not believe financial connections to companies influenced development of the manual. If none of the experts were involved with the industry, "that would mean they were really out of step with the major advances in the treatment of mental illness," he said.
The authors of the new study said they based their findings on searches of various databases, financial disclosures in medical journals and other records. They said they could not determine if the experts had ties to the companies while they were working on the manual.
But Lisa Cosgrove, one of the study's authors, said the associations could raise questions even if they occurred after the experts updated the DSM.
"They can certainly leverage their participation on the DSM, which is very prestigious, into lucrative consulting contracts," said Cosgrove, a clinical psychologist at the University of Massachusetts in Boston.
Ken Johnson, a spokesman for the Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, said the industry group had not yet reviewed the study. "But it is important to note that the physicians and other health care professionals who sit on expert medical advisory panels have impeccable integrity and base their decisions on independent judgments and research," he said.
7:21 PM - 4/24/06
~Crappy day
I'm feeling too shitty to even write about how shitty I feel.
That's pretty damn sad.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
April 23 2006
2:29pm - 4/23/06
~Nothing to see here
There was actually something I was going to write about, but I completely forget what it was. oops!
I'm sure that it was all cryptic and full of metaphor... I'm sure it was just my creative way of slam dancing around saying what is really in my head and heart.
I'm sure you would have loved it.
~Nothing to see here
There was actually something I was going to write about, but I completely forget what it was. oops!
I'm sure that it was all cryptic and full of metaphor... I'm sure it was just my creative way of slam dancing around saying what is really in my head and heart.
I'm sure you would have loved it.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
April 22, 2006
10:38 AM - 4/22/06
~The cost of living
To put things lightly, I'm not doing very well... not on any level.
I'm losing what I have in my life which is keeping me going.
Money. I don't have very much of it. It takes money to live though, and money to keep me from giving up.
It's just a machine... they're all just machines, but they're all I have. The computer, the phone, and the television... they all have price tags and shelf lives.
See, I don't have a real life. My life is in my head. Take away the accessories, and I'm just left with my brain. ...and my brain is prone to eating itself.
I want to be able to keep going. I really do. I just don't know that I can afford to anymore.
3:51 PM - 4/22/06
~Life as a "have not"
Well, Best Buy decided that it would not be in their best interest to help me finance a new computer.
So, fuck me.
If I'm suddenly not here, it's because I'm not worthy of a fucking computer that works.
10:57 PM - 4/22/06
I should name my lesions
I can't seem to shake this depression. When I drink, sometimes it eases up a bit, but generally, this has been going on for weeks, it seems. Depression and anger... they take turns.
Too, the smallest things affect me way too intensely, whether they're good things or bad. One minute I'm in love because someone sneezed in my direction, and the next I'm about to kill myself because I didn't get any mail.
I am struggling. I'm trying to play it off... don't want to pull people down with me... fear being too honest... fear scaring people...
Not like anyone can do anything anyway. It's my brain. It's broken.
Everyone has my blog address, excepting my mother. Everything I write there can be read by just about everyone I've ever known. Some of those people, I feel like I could kill. I know that I really couldn't, otherwise I'd have done it by now, but it doesn't change the anger... yet, I type away on my blog, and don't point the finger at them... don't want to hurt their feelings... don't want to hurt them like they hurt me.
How in DOG's NAME could a person who is supposed to be my parent read all I've written on that blog of mine and still not make any sort of effort?
AM I THAT HORRIBLE OF A HUMAN BEING?!?!?!?!?!?!
~The cost of living
To put things lightly, I'm not doing very well... not on any level.
I'm losing what I have in my life which is keeping me going.
Money. I don't have very much of it. It takes money to live though, and money to keep me from giving up.
It's just a machine... they're all just machines, but they're all I have. The computer, the phone, and the television... they all have price tags and shelf lives.
See, I don't have a real life. My life is in my head. Take away the accessories, and I'm just left with my brain. ...and my brain is prone to eating itself.
I want to be able to keep going. I really do. I just don't know that I can afford to anymore.
3:51 PM - 4/22/06
~Life as a "have not"
Well, Best Buy decided that it would not be in their best interest to help me finance a new computer.
So, fuck me.
If I'm suddenly not here, it's because I'm not worthy of a fucking computer that works.
10:57 PM - 4/22/06
I should name my lesions
I can't seem to shake this depression. When I drink, sometimes it eases up a bit, but generally, this has been going on for weeks, it seems. Depression and anger... they take turns.
Too, the smallest things affect me way too intensely, whether they're good things or bad. One minute I'm in love because someone sneezed in my direction, and the next I'm about to kill myself because I didn't get any mail.
I am struggling. I'm trying to play it off... don't want to pull people down with me... fear being too honest... fear scaring people...
Not like anyone can do anything anyway. It's my brain. It's broken.
Everyone has my blog address, excepting my mother. Everything I write there can be read by just about everyone I've ever known. Some of those people, I feel like I could kill. I know that I really couldn't, otherwise I'd have done it by now, but it doesn't change the anger... yet, I type away on my blog, and don't point the finger at them... don't want to hurt their feelings... don't want to hurt them like they hurt me.
How in DOG's NAME could a person who is supposed to be my parent read all I've written on that blog of mine and still not make any sort of effort?
AM I THAT HORRIBLE OF A HUMAN BEING?!?!?!?!?!?!
Friday, April 21, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
April 20, 2006
5:26 AM - 4/20/06
~wanting for sleep
Been up since about 4am. Only slept about 4 hours total. So, the insomnia continues.
Been trying to think about the book, figure out what makes the most sense. My energy is limited, and my sanity seems to come and go. I'll be doing ok, but then BAM!, I'm a loony toon.
I'm picking up too much. The brain is receiving too much. It's difficult to tell what's coming from where. Seems this month has been brutal for just about everyone. ...transitions... turmoil... anguish... longing... series of moments, all tied together and called a "day"...
It's not spiraling, really. Spirals start and end.It's more like random explosions.
The Wheel spins and spins.
but all that he could see
was the other side of the mountain
the other side of the mountain
the other side of the mountain
was all that he could see
7:45 AM - 4/25/06
Running out of cheeks
Yes, and right after that, my computer died. Answers the question of what I can do.
Until I manage to get another computer, the idea of a book is not even close to a pipe dream.
8:16 AM - 4/20/06
~FUCK ME
Well, it's official. My computer died.
Thank you to RavensWings, who left her laptop here for just this sort of crisis.
Basically, my screen just suddenly went out. I can kind of see that there's something going on there, but not enough to actually do anything.
I swear, every time I get a bad feeling about things...
Stay tuned, I guess. I'll do what I can to figure this out.
9:48 PM - 4/20/06
~Crazy Shit
This is me... NOT cutting... NOT.. NOT...NOT cutting.
Are you proud of me? Are you? ARE YOU!!!?!???!!!
You're a fucking asshole.
That makes me an even bigger one...
because
I'm going to slice myself as deep as you've hurt me.
bitch
Suck that up through your haze.
~wanting for sleep
Been up since about 4am. Only slept about 4 hours total. So, the insomnia continues.
Been trying to think about the book, figure out what makes the most sense. My energy is limited, and my sanity seems to come and go. I'll be doing ok, but then BAM!, I'm a loony toon.
I'm picking up too much. The brain is receiving too much. It's difficult to tell what's coming from where. Seems this month has been brutal for just about everyone. ...transitions... turmoil... anguish... longing... series of moments, all tied together and called a "day"...
It's not spiraling, really. Spirals start and end.It's more like random explosions.
The Wheel spins and spins.
but all that he could see
was the other side of the mountain
the other side of the mountain
the other side of the mountain
was all that he could see
7:45 AM - 4/25/06
Running out of cheeks
Yes, and right after that, my computer died. Answers the question of what I can do.
Until I manage to get another computer, the idea of a book is not even close to a pipe dream.
8:16 AM - 4/20/06
~FUCK ME
Well, it's official. My computer died.
Thank you to RavensWings, who left her laptop here for just this sort of crisis.
Basically, my screen just suddenly went out. I can kind of see that there's something going on there, but not enough to actually do anything.
I swear, every time I get a bad feeling about things...
Stay tuned, I guess. I'll do what I can to figure this out.
9:48 PM - 4/20/06
~Crazy Shit
This is me... NOT cutting... NOT.. NOT...NOT cutting.
Are you proud of me? Are you? ARE YOU!!!?!???!!!
You're a fucking asshole.
That makes me an even bigger one...
because
I'm going to slice myself as deep as you've hurt me.
bitch
Suck that up through your haze.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
April 19 2006
6:12 AM - 4/19/06
~Now, I know jade.
Over the last few days, I think a lot of the reality of this whole MS thing is really clarifying for me.
People speak of MS as being a disease that primarily affects one's mobility. You know, canes, walkers, and wheelchairs. MS never really hit me that way until I had to adopt Nessie, and even now, I'm still pretty ok with walking, many days.
That said, I am beginning to be able to see how MS has indeed affected my mobility.
See, I've always been a traveler. At the drop of a hat, I'd run off to another State. Wherever my heart lead me, I'd go. Just drop and run. The bus, the train, my feet, it didn't matter. Now, I can't really do that anymore.
It's not because of my frequent need for Nessie, it's because of my need for sanity. Stress is very bad for MS. The brain lesions I get because I have MS... there's nothing to get them flaring up quite like stress.
Is travel stressful? It can be. The real stress comes in though, when you arrive at your destination only to be kicked in the heart... or in the head.
So, I can't do it anymore. MS has robbed me of my ability to take a chance on anyone... to throw caution to the wind... to look past all the little lies and half truths people spew in order to bask in some sort of intensity.
In the past, I'd metaphorically risk my life to follow my heart. Now, following my heart could literally kill me.
Ah, the thoughts we have when insomnia hits.
Wonder if I'll ever be able to publish anything.
Wonder if I'll ever be able to get back to the point of giving a shit.
2:43 PM - 4/19/06
~not good
I'm feeling really, really, really dangerously angry right now.
4:32 PM - 4/19/06
...and here I go.
Although I did actually start the book project, I find myself at a standstill. I just can't go through that right now. I don't want to keep reading over my past... over and over again.
I think that what I might end up doing is just using my ~blog, plus adding in stuff that isn't already there. I need to think on it further, but right now it seems to make sense. I've been far from well, and too much stress will kill the idea entirely. Shoot, too much stress will kill me, period.
Wish my head would stop hurting, and wish my heart would stop wanting.
Damn Southern women. They get me every time.
7:52 PM - 4/19/06
~c thru me
Is it a secret, or is it a lie...
Is that lightning, or blood in the sky...
I wrote that... years ago. It was a song.
Why is it in my head?
~Now, I know jade.
Over the last few days, I think a lot of the reality of this whole MS thing is really clarifying for me.
People speak of MS as being a disease that primarily affects one's mobility. You know, canes, walkers, and wheelchairs. MS never really hit me that way until I had to adopt Nessie, and even now, I'm still pretty ok with walking, many days.
That said, I am beginning to be able to see how MS has indeed affected my mobility.
See, I've always been a traveler. At the drop of a hat, I'd run off to another State. Wherever my heart lead me, I'd go. Just drop and run. The bus, the train, my feet, it didn't matter. Now, I can't really do that anymore.
It's not because of my frequent need for Nessie, it's because of my need for sanity. Stress is very bad for MS. The brain lesions I get because I have MS... there's nothing to get them flaring up quite like stress.
Is travel stressful? It can be. The real stress comes in though, when you arrive at your destination only to be kicked in the heart... or in the head.
So, I can't do it anymore. MS has robbed me of my ability to take a chance on anyone... to throw caution to the wind... to look past all the little lies and half truths people spew in order to bask in some sort of intensity.
In the past, I'd metaphorically risk my life to follow my heart. Now, following my heart could literally kill me.
Ah, the thoughts we have when insomnia hits.
Wonder if I'll ever be able to publish anything.
Wonder if I'll ever be able to get back to the point of giving a shit.
2:43 PM - 4/19/06
~not good
I'm feeling really, really, really dangerously angry right now.
4:32 PM - 4/19/06
...and here I go.
Although I did actually start the book project, I find myself at a standstill. I just can't go through that right now. I don't want to keep reading over my past... over and over again.
I think that what I might end up doing is just using my ~blog, plus adding in stuff that isn't already there. I need to think on it further, but right now it seems to make sense. I've been far from well, and too much stress will kill the idea entirely. Shoot, too much stress will kill me, period.
Wish my head would stop hurting, and wish my heart would stop wanting.
Damn Southern women. They get me every time.
7:52 PM - 4/19/06
~c thru me
Is it a secret, or is it a lie...
Is that lightning, or blood in the sky...
I wrote that... years ago. It was a song.
Why is it in my head?
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
April 18, 2006
7:11 AM - 4/18/06
~Cutter's Slacking
I'm feeling a wee bit, ummmmm.... CRAPPY. I don't want to say that I should be in bed still, but my body is hinting to me that I should be. I just can't do it though. I really have to get my ass in gear here. Shoot, if nothing else, I need to get my ass into the damn shower.
I'm rather forgiving when it comes to my own need to be in bed. I have this pesky little MS thing going on, and I know that if I don't take care of myself a little, it'll put me in the urn, but if I'm in bed simply because I'd rather be there than actually dealing with my life, that's not so ok.
So, Easter vacation's over Mr. Cutter. Get your fingers back onto the keys and out of your god damn pants.
Bad Cutter. No Donut.
3:52 PM - 4/18/06
I am SO not doing well. I'm trying my best to fake it... keep people from not wanting to read my blog, not wanting to associate with me on boards, wanting to just blow my whiney head off. Keep trying to be nice... act nice... don't complain, say as little as possible.
I'm really fucking tired of giving a shit.
4:54 PM - 4/18/06
~before I put the scraps away
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Gonna fuck the
soul right out
of your skin
Then you'll be
empty
just
like
me
Fuck you hollow
~Cutter's Slacking
I'm feeling a wee bit, ummmmm.... CRAPPY. I don't want to say that I should be in bed still, but my body is hinting to me that I should be. I just can't do it though. I really have to get my ass in gear here. Shoot, if nothing else, I need to get my ass into the damn shower.
I'm rather forgiving when it comes to my own need to be in bed. I have this pesky little MS thing going on, and I know that if I don't take care of myself a little, it'll put me in the urn, but if I'm in bed simply because I'd rather be there than actually dealing with my life, that's not so ok.
So, Easter vacation's over Mr. Cutter. Get your fingers back onto the keys and out of your god damn pants.
Bad Cutter. No Donut.
3:52 PM - 4/18/06
I am SO not doing well. I'm trying my best to fake it... keep people from not wanting to read my blog, not wanting to associate with me on boards, wanting to just blow my whiney head off. Keep trying to be nice... act nice... don't complain, say as little as possible.
I'm really fucking tired of giving a shit.
4:54 PM - 4/18/06
~before I put the scraps away
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Gonna fuck the
soul right out
of your skin
Then you'll be
empty
just
like
me
Fuck you hollow
Monday, April 17, 2006
April 17, 2006
11:12 AM - 4/17/06
~What day is it?
I got really shnockered last night. That was stupid. I don't even really remember the majority of the evening. Although I know that I went out for sushi with RavensWings, everything else after that is a blur. Actually, before that is a blur too. oops.
I remember after about 11 or midnight, and that was good. Had my phone attached to my head until about 7 or 8 in the morning. Very good thing.
Now, I'm just tired, and I think maybe still a little tipsy. Not exactly the way to accomplish writing a book. Maybe I can just consider last night some sort of celebration, in honor of actually deciding to start the project.
Yeah. Works for me.
Now, I think that I'll get back into bed and try to get to the point of clear headed.
It could happen.
~What day is it?
I got really shnockered last night. That was stupid. I don't even really remember the majority of the evening. Although I know that I went out for sushi with RavensWings, everything else after that is a blur. Actually, before that is a blur too. oops.
I remember after about 11 or midnight, and that was good. Had my phone attached to my head until about 7 or 8 in the morning. Very good thing.
Now, I'm just tired, and I think maybe still a little tipsy. Not exactly the way to accomplish writing a book. Maybe I can just consider last night some sort of celebration, in honor of actually deciding to start the project.
Yeah. Works for me.
Now, I think that I'll get back into bed and try to get to the point of clear headed.
It could happen.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
April 16, 2006
9:35 AM - 4/16/06
~meat poets
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
Wish he'd just shut up. I have no desire to hear his shit. Why are some of these male poets so unbelievably crude? Is it truly necessary? Isn't there a more "poetic" way to make their point? How many times is it really necessary to say the word "fucking"? Some definitely abuse their poetic license. His words don't motivate my hands to come together. Where are the good ones? The woman who makes me laugh hysterically? The woman whose voice would make a cereal box sound good? The woman who could stand up on stage and burp, and I'd applaud? Nowhere. Only the "fucking" man, the aging hippie, and the man who likes to read newspaper clippings. Yeah, some of the women suck too. The other aging hippie, the Dr. Seuss clone, the drunken hick with the dead dog. So why do I bother sitting here with my beer and cigarettes? For the potential laugh, the ear drum massage, and the hope of catching a glimpse of the one I can't have or even approach. Legitimate reasons? Perhaps - perhaps not - but I'm here anyway. Sort of like my life. Just a few reasons to keep me going, but I use those reasons and use them and use them. They're legit, because they keep me breathing.
He's still going. I'm still frowning. If only there were some sign of some real entertainment to come, I'd feel better. I'm so tired of people who think they're so damn clever, they're all so damn pretentious. It's a contest, who can be the most clever, the most vague, the most suggestive, Redundant.
And so he's done and people are expected to mingle. Why? With who? What for? ok, so there are a few people worth speaking to, and so I do, but then afterwards I sit again, alone, wondering why I'm here. Hope. That's got to be it, the hope of a miracle. A laugh, a concert, an imagined interlude.
12:35 PM - 4/16/06
~Time to exhale
ok, I'm going to take my time writing this entry, because I want to be clear, and I do not wish to either scare or threaten anyone.
Many people have told me that I should publish a book. I recently found someone who is going to help me with that. Although it may take a little while, it is something which I plan on concentrating on... starting now.
So, fair warning... although I will not libel anyone, and will not go out of my way to publish hurtful things about people, my writing is rather "autobiographical", and so may reflect my dealings with others in my life.
I'm not that evil, take my word for it. I'm not shooting for "revenge" here. I'm just doing what I do, and that is writing about my life, and the way I see, or have seen things.
I'll still be blogging, but I can't say how often. I don't have a lot of energy, and the MS kicks my ass constantly. I have to use as much of that limited amount of energy as I can to work on this project.
Thank you to those of you who have been here for me, and who have encouraged and supported me. I hope not to lose any of you in this endeavor.
- Cutter
~meat poets
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
Wish he'd just shut up. I have no desire to hear his shit. Why are some of these male poets so unbelievably crude? Is it truly necessary? Isn't there a more "poetic" way to make their point? How many times is it really necessary to say the word "fucking"? Some definitely abuse their poetic license. His words don't motivate my hands to come together. Where are the good ones? The woman who makes me laugh hysterically? The woman whose voice would make a cereal box sound good? The woman who could stand up on stage and burp, and I'd applaud? Nowhere. Only the "fucking" man, the aging hippie, and the man who likes to read newspaper clippings. Yeah, some of the women suck too. The other aging hippie, the Dr. Seuss clone, the drunken hick with the dead dog. So why do I bother sitting here with my beer and cigarettes? For the potential laugh, the ear drum massage, and the hope of catching a glimpse of the one I can't have or even approach. Legitimate reasons? Perhaps - perhaps not - but I'm here anyway. Sort of like my life. Just a few reasons to keep me going, but I use those reasons and use them and use them. They're legit, because they keep me breathing.
He's still going. I'm still frowning. If only there were some sign of some real entertainment to come, I'd feel better. I'm so tired of people who think they're so damn clever, they're all so damn pretentious. It's a contest, who can be the most clever, the most vague, the most suggestive, Redundant.
And so he's done and people are expected to mingle. Why? With who? What for? ok, so there are a few people worth speaking to, and so I do, but then afterwards I sit again, alone, wondering why I'm here. Hope. That's got to be it, the hope of a miracle. A laugh, a concert, an imagined interlude.
12:35 PM - 4/16/06
~Time to exhale
ok, I'm going to take my time writing this entry, because I want to be clear, and I do not wish to either scare or threaten anyone.
Many people have told me that I should publish a book. I recently found someone who is going to help me with that. Although it may take a little while, it is something which I plan on concentrating on... starting now.
So, fair warning... although I will not libel anyone, and will not go out of my way to publish hurtful things about people, my writing is rather "autobiographical", and so may reflect my dealings with others in my life.
I'm not that evil, take my word for it. I'm not shooting for "revenge" here. I'm just doing what I do, and that is writing about my life, and the way I see, or have seen things.
I'll still be blogging, but I can't say how often. I don't have a lot of energy, and the MS kicks my ass constantly. I have to use as much of that limited amount of energy as I can to work on this project.
Thank you to those of you who have been here for me, and who have encouraged and supported me. I hope not to lose any of you in this endeavor.
- Cutter
Saturday, April 15, 2006
April 15, 2006
10:57 AM - 4/15/06
~I never denied it
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
I'm a drunk
I'm not reliable
I'm selfish
I cannot be trusted
I've got too many issues
I'm full of fear
Often, I feel nothing
I'm impulsive
I'm compulsive
I see truth as transient
I'm suicidal
I'm masochistic
I'm loyal only to myself
I'm paranoid
I'm negative
I'm a flirt
I'm chronically depressed
I'm angry
I'm too sensitive
I complain too much
I'm socially unacceptable
I'm socially inept
I'm legally insane
4:09 PM - 4/15/06
~the usual ouch
I have a really bad headache. It's not that I don't want to write, it's that every time I try to, my head screams at me.
My head. Yeah. It's not doing so well. I really am trying to stay aware... trying not to fall... trying to keep the monster at bay.
Doesn't feel like I'm doing a very good job though.
6:23 PM - 4/15/06
the elusive book
So, I'm giving more thought to the whole "publishing a book" thing. I'm not sure why.
What is it that I feel a book could accomplish that blogging can't?
I don't even know that I'm able to handle the task. Yes, I have volumes of writing, but it still has to be edited, typed up, and submitted. Sometimes I just want to invest in a video camera and record my conversations with myself. It'd be infinitely more entertaining to others.
I'm really tired today. It's probably not the best day to be thinking on this.
~I never denied it
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
I'm a drunk
I'm not reliable
I'm selfish
I cannot be trusted
I've got too many issues
I'm full of fear
Often, I feel nothing
I'm impulsive
I'm compulsive
I see truth as transient
I'm suicidal
I'm masochistic
I'm loyal only to myself
I'm paranoid
I'm negative
I'm a flirt
I'm chronically depressed
I'm angry
I'm too sensitive
I complain too much
I'm socially unacceptable
I'm socially inept
I'm legally insane
4:09 PM - 4/15/06
~the usual ouch
I have a really bad headache. It's not that I don't want to write, it's that every time I try to, my head screams at me.
My head. Yeah. It's not doing so well. I really am trying to stay aware... trying not to fall... trying to keep the monster at bay.
Doesn't feel like I'm doing a very good job though.
6:23 PM - 4/15/06
the elusive book
So, I'm giving more thought to the whole "publishing a book" thing. I'm not sure why.
What is it that I feel a book could accomplish that blogging can't?
I don't even know that I'm able to handle the task. Yes, I have volumes of writing, but it still has to be edited, typed up, and submitted. Sometimes I just want to invest in a video camera and record my conversations with myself. It'd be infinitely more entertaining to others.
I'm really tired today. It's probably not the best day to be thinking on this.
Friday, April 14, 2006
April 14, 2006
9:42 AM - 4/14/06
~Forgive me
I still have papers stacked on my floor... stuff I want to add into this here blog o' mine. I'll pick up one of the papers and freeze though. Screw the content, just the thought of attempting to read that much makes my eyes cross.
..."cross". I think that my Grandmother used to use that word to mean "angry"... as in, "That makes me cross." I'm not sure, but it just popped into my head.
I'm gravitating towards the smaller "scraps" ...things with just a few lines on them, rather than the pages that are full sized and covered on one, or both sides. It's easier, but I'm sure, not as interesting to whoever reads the blog entry.
I have to relax a little though. There's no time limit on the project. I don't have to race through the stacks. Why I'm pressuring myself to get it done is beyond me.
...although maybe it's just a morbid state of mind... maybe it's, "Better get as much as you can out there now. It's as close as you'll ever get to the world actually reading what you wrote. Time is running out to have it have any sort of impact on anyone or the world as a whole, good or bad."
I guess that must be important to me... making some sort of impact. ...more than average, that is. Everyone changes the world just by existing. ....the whole "butterfly effect" thing. I guess that there are butterflies, and there are bullets. (Wasn't there an album, or a song called "Bullet with Butterfly Wings"? Maybe Smashing Pumpkins?) I suppose that I always wanted to be more of a bullet.
Just looked it up. There was a song with that title, a rather appropriate one at that. Spooky when my head does that to me sometimes... gives me just the right song for the moment, or a clue of some sort which leads me to an all too appropriate song.
The song just changed. The music is loud in my head telling me that the song changed... Now it's a Tracy Chapman song. Don't know the title offhand... something about "the right words, at the right time..."
What year was that?
1:24 PM - 4/14/06
~Shall we go for three?
I'm 36. I'm an adult. That whole concept, many days, freaks me the fuck out.
6:11 PM - 4/14/06
~not worth my time
This isn't good. I'm going to sleep, in many ways.
No, I'm not offing myself, although it occurred to me... put the fucking phone down. I'm just sick and tired of dealing with idiots, and so I'm turning the fucking computer off for a while.
I'm glad I exist online. If I didn't, my belt would be notched to the point of lace.
~Forgive me
I still have papers stacked on my floor... stuff I want to add into this here blog o' mine. I'll pick up one of the papers and freeze though. Screw the content, just the thought of attempting to read that much makes my eyes cross.
..."cross". I think that my Grandmother used to use that word to mean "angry"... as in, "That makes me cross." I'm not sure, but it just popped into my head.
I'm gravitating towards the smaller "scraps" ...things with just a few lines on them, rather than the pages that are full sized and covered on one, or both sides. It's easier, but I'm sure, not as interesting to whoever reads the blog entry.
I have to relax a little though. There's no time limit on the project. I don't have to race through the stacks. Why I'm pressuring myself to get it done is beyond me.
...although maybe it's just a morbid state of mind... maybe it's, "Better get as much as you can out there now. It's as close as you'll ever get to the world actually reading what you wrote. Time is running out to have it have any sort of impact on anyone or the world as a whole, good or bad."
I guess that must be important to me... making some sort of impact. ...more than average, that is. Everyone changes the world just by existing. ....the whole "butterfly effect" thing. I guess that there are butterflies, and there are bullets. (Wasn't there an album, or a song called "Bullet with Butterfly Wings"? Maybe Smashing Pumpkins?) I suppose that I always wanted to be more of a bullet.
Just looked it up. There was a song with that title, a rather appropriate one at that. Spooky when my head does that to me sometimes... gives me just the right song for the moment, or a clue of some sort which leads me to an all too appropriate song.
The song just changed. The music is loud in my head telling me that the song changed... Now it's a Tracy Chapman song. Don't know the title offhand... something about "the right words, at the right time..."
What year was that?
1:24 PM - 4/14/06
~Shall we go for three?
I'm 36. I'm an adult. That whole concept, many days, freaks me the fuck out.
6:11 PM - 4/14/06
~not worth my time
This isn't good. I'm going to sleep, in many ways.
No, I'm not offing myself, although it occurred to me... put the fucking phone down. I'm just sick and tired of dealing with idiots, and so I'm turning the fucking computer off for a while.
I'm glad I exist online. If I didn't, my belt would be notched to the point of lace.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
April 13, 2006
7:44 AM - 4/13/06
~not a clue
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
Are you a dream walker, a Were or Vamp?
how interconnected?
I/we exist as me/we to combat that which
I/we consider to be evil. Better within us/me
it a world which I/we consider to be evil.
old=old
6:11 PM - 4/13/06
~tis the season, again
I suppose it's just that time of year. Time for the brain to boil, roast, fester, or whatever the hell it is that it does.
It's not that I won't be online at all, but I'm just going to try to be as careful as I can be if I am. It's not just that I end up"not so nice". I end up not so sane. I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to scare people. ...and I don't want to hurt myself either.
I just have to get through, and if it means being less present online, that's what I'll have to do.
My apologies in advance, just in case. I don't know how this season will turn out.
6:26 PM - 4/13/06
(Dark Entertainment News... - IX)
June Pointer, youngest of the Pointer siblings, died of cancer at UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica, Tuesday 4/11, in the arms of her sisters, Ruth and Anita and her brothers, Aaron and Fritz, by her side. Although her sister, Bonnie, was unable to be present, she was with her in spirit. June was 52.
~not a clue
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
Are you a dream walker, a Were or Vamp?
how interconnected?
I/we exist as me/we to combat that which
I/we consider to be evil. Better within us/me
it a world which I/we consider to be evil.
old=old
6:11 PM - 4/13/06
~tis the season, again
I suppose it's just that time of year. Time for the brain to boil, roast, fester, or whatever the hell it is that it does.
It's not that I won't be online at all, but I'm just going to try to be as careful as I can be if I am. It's not just that I end up"not so nice". I end up not so sane. I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to scare people. ...and I don't want to hurt myself either.
I just have to get through, and if it means being less present online, that's what I'll have to do.
My apologies in advance, just in case. I don't know how this season will turn out.
6:26 PM - 4/13/06
(Dark Entertainment News... - IX)
June Pointer, youngest of the Pointer siblings, died of cancer at UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica, Tuesday 4/11, in the arms of her sisters, Ruth and Anita and her brothers, Aaron and Fritz, by her side. Although her sister, Bonnie, was unable to be present, she was with her in spirit. June was 52.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
April 12, 2006
6:15 AM - 4/12/06
~It really doesn't work.
Despite the 10mgs of Ambien I took last night, I didn't get much sleep. I really, really wanted to sleep... that's why I took the Ambien. I don't like taking medications. I hate taking medications and having them do absolutely nothing, aside from polluting my blood with unwanted chemicals.
I hope that I can manage to get a few hours of sleep at some point today. I'm passing cranky and approaching whiny.
12:03 PM - 4/12/06
~boring boring boring
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
4/1
Sometimes I am so bored that I feel like filling an entire piece of paper with just the word "bored" written over and over again. At least, it tells me that I like to write. Other than that though, I fear it may mean that I'm not such a creative person. Pretty depressing huh. When I think about it, the only things that really entertain me are people and animals... sometimes other living things too, like plants and rocks (Yes I know that rocks are TECHNICALLY NOT ALIVE) In general though, I'm bored a lot.
Odd, thinking further, there's a lot on this waste of a planet... sorry... this beautiful earth that entertains me. I wonder why I'm bored so often. What is "bored", anyway? I think that maybe it's a state of non-motivation, coupled with the desire for stimulation. Sounds selfish. I don't want to do anything, but I want to be entertained. Or, perhaps it's wanting to do something specific and not being able to, and nothing else will do the trick. That sounds a bit stubborn. I definitely attach bored to unhappy though. I guess it's a feeling of dissatisfaction. Can one feel satisfied and bored at the same time? I guess not. So, because I am dissatisfied, I feel like writing the word bored over and over and over again? Hm. Sometimes... at least in the past... I've felt like writing someone's name over and over, until I got to see them again. Is that boredom, dissatisfaction, or obsession? I guess it's boredom, but in that case you know what it is you want to do. So, is the key to not being so bored all the time figuring out what it is I'm longing to do but feel unable to? Perhaps. But even the thought of figuring out what it is bores the shit out of me.
2:09 PM - 4/12/06
Fuck you
No, really, I actually have. I've fucked everyone I've ever known, some more than once. I've even fucked complete strangers. Fucked, sucked, humped, bumped... you name it, I've done it.
No one ever talks about the "hypersexuality" that can come along with MS. Repressed society. We can talk about being "unable to perform", but mention the need to jerk off 3 times a day and you may as well have admitted to shooting your mother. (I didn't shoot my mother, by the way.)
ok, fine, so I haven't fucked everyone, but in my head, I have. After a while, porn gets boring, and you have to come up with new things to get off to. Fantasy works. Anything to avoid being "sexually inappropriate" in public, or with the "wrong" people.
They say that the brain is the most important/powerful sex organ. My brain is pretty messed up. I'm great in bed though, or on the floor, outside, in a classroom, a bar, you name it. Thousands of fantasy characters can't be wrong!
4:46 PM - 4/12/06
Here we go
I'm in so much fucking pain right now it's not even funny.
6:48 PM - 4/12/06
~I'm not doing well.
I hate this fucking disease.
~It really doesn't work.
Despite the 10mgs of Ambien I took last night, I didn't get much sleep. I really, really wanted to sleep... that's why I took the Ambien. I don't like taking medications. I hate taking medications and having them do absolutely nothing, aside from polluting my blood with unwanted chemicals.
I hope that I can manage to get a few hours of sleep at some point today. I'm passing cranky and approaching whiny.
12:03 PM - 4/12/06
~boring boring boring
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
4/1
Sometimes I am so bored that I feel like filling an entire piece of paper with just the word "bored" written over and over again. At least, it tells me that I like to write. Other than that though, I fear it may mean that I'm not such a creative person. Pretty depressing huh. When I think about it, the only things that really entertain me are people and animals... sometimes other living things too, like plants and rocks (Yes I know that rocks are TECHNICALLY NOT ALIVE) In general though, I'm bored a lot.
Odd, thinking further, there's a lot on this waste of a planet... sorry... this beautiful earth that entertains me. I wonder why I'm bored so often. What is "bored", anyway? I think that maybe it's a state of non-motivation, coupled with the desire for stimulation. Sounds selfish. I don't want to do anything, but I want to be entertained. Or, perhaps it's wanting to do something specific and not being able to, and nothing else will do the trick. That sounds a bit stubborn. I definitely attach bored to unhappy though. I guess it's a feeling of dissatisfaction. Can one feel satisfied and bored at the same time? I guess not. So, because I am dissatisfied, I feel like writing the word bored over and over and over again? Hm. Sometimes... at least in the past... I've felt like writing someone's name over and over, until I got to see them again. Is that boredom, dissatisfaction, or obsession? I guess it's boredom, but in that case you know what it is you want to do. So, is the key to not being so bored all the time figuring out what it is I'm longing to do but feel unable to? Perhaps. But even the thought of figuring out what it is bores the shit out of me.
2:09 PM - 4/12/06
Fuck you
No, really, I actually have. I've fucked everyone I've ever known, some more than once. I've even fucked complete strangers. Fucked, sucked, humped, bumped... you name it, I've done it.
No one ever talks about the "hypersexuality" that can come along with MS. Repressed society. We can talk about being "unable to perform", but mention the need to jerk off 3 times a day and you may as well have admitted to shooting your mother. (I didn't shoot my mother, by the way.)
ok, fine, so I haven't fucked everyone, but in my head, I have. After a while, porn gets boring, and you have to come up with new things to get off to. Fantasy works. Anything to avoid being "sexually inappropriate" in public, or with the "wrong" people.
They say that the brain is the most important/powerful sex organ. My brain is pretty messed up. I'm great in bed though, or on the floor, outside, in a classroom, a bar, you name it. Thousands of fantasy characters can't be wrong!
4:46 PM - 4/12/06
Here we go
I'm in so much fucking pain right now it's not even funny.
6:48 PM - 4/12/06
~I'm not doing well.
I hate this fucking disease.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
April 11, 2006
8:53 AM - 4/11/06
~Penance
Sometimes I wonder about good and evil... about whether or not I'm as evil as I think I am at times.
If you wish for something bad to happen to someone, and then it does, and you smile, does that make you evil? What if, after you smile, you torture yourself about smiling? Does that count as penance?
I hate the whole God thing. Not only has it completely fucked up the world, but it has tortured the fuck out of people who didn't do anything to deserve it. Good people shouldn't beat the crap out of themselves for simply being human.
"God" is the ultimate horror movie. Your folks show it to you when you're really young because they don't have answers to your questions. They don't have answers because they never dared to search for them. They never dared because of that horror movie their parents made them watch when they were little... the one that warned them to never question the whole God thing... that if they did, if they doubted, that you would stab yourself in the crotch with a crucifix and then make them lick up the mess.
I live in a world full of people who are full of fear. They fear themselves. They fear me because I mirror their soul. I carry their secrets in my pocket, and proudly display them when I'm in the mood. When I'm in the mood, I leave those who live lies, naked and petrified.
Don't worry, just put another mindless song on your ipod and forget that you read this. Don't think. Thinking lets the devil in, and you don't want to admit to wanting him there, now do you?
1:44 PM - 4/11/06
~pants on fire
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
4am
I don't even feel able to write. I feel like the proverbial deer caught in headlights.
I've been in bed almost 24 hours now. I did a bunch of speed and freaked out Thursday night. I lied and called out of work. Food poisoning. My arm's cut up. I'm having trouble breathing. I feel very alone and very confused. If I didn't fear the effect it would have on my brother, I would've killed myself yesterday morning.
I'm not sure what to do. I don't feel like I have any options. I feel insane and unable to continue in this poor excuse for a life. I don't know which way to turn. I have no desire to spend my remaining years in an asylum. It seems obvious that I can't do it alone, but... Jeez. I'm so confused. I feel so damn helpless. I can't run away, there's no where to run to.
I'm trying to write about it... but it's not working. I'll stop my pen here.
5:07pm
I need desperately to write, but I feel too tired. Perhaps after a nap I'll have the energy I need. But then, maybe I'll just end up getting wasted. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.
7:51 PM - 4/11/06
~I'm in love with your ghost
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
2/22
Went out and got exactly what I needed last night. Ray of hope. That's all I really needed. Just some hope that I can see a face and still smile at its beauty.
Tonight? Tonight I have the knowledge that I can smile, yet not the motivation. Is it safe to fixate on one who is absent? No matter if it's one day absent or 5 years. Same difference. Absence is absence. I seem to have a thing for ghosts.
~Penance
Sometimes I wonder about good and evil... about whether or not I'm as evil as I think I am at times.
If you wish for something bad to happen to someone, and then it does, and you smile, does that make you evil? What if, after you smile, you torture yourself about smiling? Does that count as penance?
I hate the whole God thing. Not only has it completely fucked up the world, but it has tortured the fuck out of people who didn't do anything to deserve it. Good people shouldn't beat the crap out of themselves for simply being human.
"God" is the ultimate horror movie. Your folks show it to you when you're really young because they don't have answers to your questions. They don't have answers because they never dared to search for them. They never dared because of that horror movie their parents made them watch when they were little... the one that warned them to never question the whole God thing... that if they did, if they doubted, that you would stab yourself in the crotch with a crucifix and then make them lick up the mess.
I live in a world full of people who are full of fear. They fear themselves. They fear me because I mirror their soul. I carry their secrets in my pocket, and proudly display them when I'm in the mood. When I'm in the mood, I leave those who live lies, naked and petrified.
Don't worry, just put another mindless song on your ipod and forget that you read this. Don't think. Thinking lets the devil in, and you don't want to admit to wanting him there, now do you?
1:44 PM - 4/11/06
~pants on fire
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
4am
I don't even feel able to write. I feel like the proverbial deer caught in headlights.
I've been in bed almost 24 hours now. I did a bunch of speed and freaked out Thursday night. I lied and called out of work. Food poisoning. My arm's cut up. I'm having trouble breathing. I feel very alone and very confused. If I didn't fear the effect it would have on my brother, I would've killed myself yesterday morning.
I'm not sure what to do. I don't feel like I have any options. I feel insane and unable to continue in this poor excuse for a life. I don't know which way to turn. I have no desire to spend my remaining years in an asylum. It seems obvious that I can't do it alone, but... Jeez. I'm so confused. I feel so damn helpless. I can't run away, there's no where to run to.
I'm trying to write about it... but it's not working. I'll stop my pen here.
5:07pm
I need desperately to write, but I feel too tired. Perhaps after a nap I'll have the energy I need. But then, maybe I'll just end up getting wasted. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.
7:51 PM - 4/11/06
~I'm in love with your ghost
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
2/22
Went out and got exactly what I needed last night. Ray of hope. That's all I really needed. Just some hope that I can see a face and still smile at its beauty.
Tonight? Tonight I have the knowledge that I can smile, yet not the motivation. Is it safe to fixate on one who is absent? No matter if it's one day absent or 5 years. Same difference. Absence is absence. I seem to have a thing for ghosts.
Monday, April 10, 2006
April 10, 2006
9:16 AM - 4/10/06
~and by the way
5:17 PM - 4/10/06
~brown paper
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
So, here I am. It feels like now, the world should get off my back, but alas, life doesn't work that way. There's always something that someone will look down on you for.
I'm tired. My nerves kept me up or asleep with nightmares all night. I believe the trauma to be more about the concept than the reality of this. I've been out of school for 9 years, and each one of those 9 years was insanely traumatic. I doubt that many people could've lasted through one year of my life, let alone 27, but here I am. It's funny how ironic my being is. I've lived more than most 27 year olds, but appear half my age.
I am covered. My tattoos, all evidence of my reality, are covered. I enter this world as a spy. In time, it will be safe to remove some of my covering, but I must first lay the ground work. In this world, books are judged by their covers, so it's best that I cover mine with brown paper.
I never really thought that I'd do this. I mean, I've always toyed with the idea of college, but it always felt somewhat like a pipe dream. In a way, I am conceited. I sometimes feel that I am above all this. The real reasons I came here were to meet new people - especially other musicians, and because life was becoming boring. In truth, no one who would look in on my life would consider it boring, but my lack of routine became a routine. Routines are boring.
I panic, checking my roster for the hundredth time. Is my class at 9:30 as I think? Am I missing or overlooking something? I've had school panic dreams for years. Y'know, the ones where you forget your locker combination or can't find your class, or even better, can't figure out how to get to work while you're in school. This, however, isn't a dream. I am here, due in my first class in 9 years, at 9:30 AM. Nothing is missing or conflicting. I'm taking my first step up the mountain.
~and by the way
I'm really not doing so well, and even though this latest project is something minorly productive, I don't know that it's very good for me to be doing.
When I look back at my life, I go back and forth between feeling sad, and feeling angry. I miss being more abled than I am now. I'm angry that I'm not. I miss having a lot of "friends" in my life. As much as online has helped keep me alive these last few years, I know that it's not real. I know that if I turned off the computer, the tv, and telephone, my life would consist of... next to nothing. RavensWings would stop by once or twice a week, but that'd be it.
My life didn't used to be like this. I always had a ton of friends, and plenty of things to do. Crappy thing is though, that even with that, I was fucked up. I was always in pain, on one level or another. I think that it shifted from mostly depression to mostly anger, after I learned how not to take things out on myself so much, but it never varied in severity.
Peers. I know what my peers are doing now, and I know what I'm doing. My peers have lives. They have careers and kids and families and hobbies and adventures. Me? I have MS.
...and it pisses me off. This is not for lack of trying. I did try. Over and over again. I tried until I broke. Then, I'd put the pieces together again, and keep trying, only to break again.
Every day, I try. At this point, I have to joke about it with myself. "Hey, I'll give you a bottle of Scotch, if you take a shower!" Yeah. Right. First off, it's not that I need to motivate myself. The reason why I can't get the trash out has nothing to do with not wanting to. The reason why I can't go for a walk has nothing to do with refusing to leave the house. This is about CAN'T, not "won't" or "don't want to".
Here's a clue... NEVER applaud me for saying something along the lines of "all I need is a good reward system!" unless you're 100% sure that I'm not being sarcastic or facetious. I TRY. I give it 1,000% EVERY DAY. My writing is full of sarcasm, obscure references to pop culture, and metaphor. It accurately reflects my personality. I'm very sarcastic, side splittingly funny, or brutally honest. A lot is lost in type, but I think that I do an ok job.
You might need to just "try harder" in life. I don't. I'm not you. Keep that in mind.
5:17 PM - 4/10/06
~brown paper
(old writing, part of the Scraps project)
So, here I am. It feels like now, the world should get off my back, but alas, life doesn't work that way. There's always something that someone will look down on you for.
I'm tired. My nerves kept me up or asleep with nightmares all night. I believe the trauma to be more about the concept than the reality of this. I've been out of school for 9 years, and each one of those 9 years was insanely traumatic. I doubt that many people could've lasted through one year of my life, let alone 27, but here I am. It's funny how ironic my being is. I've lived more than most 27 year olds, but appear half my age.
I am covered. My tattoos, all evidence of my reality, are covered. I enter this world as a spy. In time, it will be safe to remove some of my covering, but I must first lay the ground work. In this world, books are judged by their covers, so it's best that I cover mine with brown paper.
I never really thought that I'd do this. I mean, I've always toyed with the idea of college, but it always felt somewhat like a pipe dream. In a way, I am conceited. I sometimes feel that I am above all this. The real reasons I came here were to meet new people - especially other musicians, and because life was becoming boring. In truth, no one who would look in on my life would consider it boring, but my lack of routine became a routine. Routines are boring.
I panic, checking my roster for the hundredth time. Is my class at 9:30 as I think? Am I missing or overlooking something? I've had school panic dreams for years. Y'know, the ones where you forget your locker combination or can't find your class, or even better, can't figure out how to get to work while you're in school. This, however, isn't a dream. I am here, due in my first class in 9 years, at 9:30 AM. Nothing is missing or conflicting. I'm taking my first step up the mountain.
Sunday, April 9, 2006
April 9, 2006
8:08 AM - 4/9/06
~Human animals suck
The cats woke me up. I don't keep cats, but there are quite a few that live near the building I live in. Apparently, some of the people who also live in this building think that it's a nice thing to feed these strays. They also think that a birdhouse belongs in the tree outside my bedroom window. So, between the birds and the cats begging for food, it sounds like a damn pet store about sunrise. Then, of course, people have to put out the dogs, who love to talk back and forth directly through the building I live in.
What the fuck is wrong with people?! Why the hell can't people take care of each other before finding other animals to make them feel special and important?
1:21 PM - 4/9/06
~On a bar napkin
(part of the Scraps project)
I sit in a seedy go-go bar. I'm
a regular. Hm. I see you in my mind's
eye. You're saying how you had such high
hopes for me, that you wanted better for
me than this. I wonder what that "better"
was. Where would I be now if I'd lived
up to your expectations. Home in bed with
my back turned to some beautiful, clueless
woman whom I could never love. I'd be
awake, staring at the all too familiar dim
outline of my bedroom wall and out a window
framed in perfect curtains, wondering...
wondering what it was like to be a regular in
a seedy go-go bar.
5:18 PM - 4/9/06
~Being Normal
(part of the Scraps project)
Normal is the closest that you can come to death and still be breathing.
6:34 PM - 4/9/06
explosion
It's odd... depression and anger... they seem to occur at the same time...
Negativity, I suppose.
I hate the world. I hate everyone. THIS HURTS!!!
I love the world. I love everyone. THIS HURTS!!!
There's something wrong with my brain... there's something REALLY wrong with my brain!!!... and IT HURTS!!!
I want to kill you. I want to kill myself.
I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill myself.
I hide. I protect you. I protect me.
MAKE IT STOP!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!
Make it end in a good way... please?
7:01 PM - 4/9/06
All I want is some KFC. I just need a ride down the street. I want to walk it, but I'm scared I'll get lost. I'm scared it'll get dark too... it's almost 7. I just want some stupid fucking chicken. ...but no... too bad. People with MS don't get KFC. People with MS get to suck their own ass.
FUCK YOU
~Human animals suck
The cats woke me up. I don't keep cats, but there are quite a few that live near the building I live in. Apparently, some of the people who also live in this building think that it's a nice thing to feed these strays. They also think that a birdhouse belongs in the tree outside my bedroom window. So, between the birds and the cats begging for food, it sounds like a damn pet store about sunrise. Then, of course, people have to put out the dogs, who love to talk back and forth directly through the building I live in.
What the fuck is wrong with people?! Why the hell can't people take care of each other before finding other animals to make them feel special and important?
1:21 PM - 4/9/06
~On a bar napkin
(part of the Scraps project)
I sit in a seedy go-go bar. I'm
a regular. Hm. I see you in my mind's
eye. You're saying how you had such high
hopes for me, that you wanted better for
me than this. I wonder what that "better"
was. Where would I be now if I'd lived
up to your expectations. Home in bed with
my back turned to some beautiful, clueless
woman whom I could never love. I'd be
awake, staring at the all too familiar dim
outline of my bedroom wall and out a window
framed in perfect curtains, wondering...
wondering what it was like to be a regular in
a seedy go-go bar.
5:18 PM - 4/9/06
~Being Normal
(part of the Scraps project)
Normal is the closest that you can come to death and still be breathing.
6:34 PM - 4/9/06
explosion
It's odd... depression and anger... they seem to occur at the same time...
Negativity, I suppose.
I hate the world. I hate everyone. THIS HURTS!!!
I love the world. I love everyone. THIS HURTS!!!
There's something wrong with my brain... there's something REALLY wrong with my brain!!!... and IT HURTS!!!
I want to kill you. I want to kill myself.
I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill myself.
I hide. I protect you. I protect me.
MAKE IT STOP!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!
Make it end in a good way... please?
7:01 PM - 4/9/06
All I want is some KFC. I just need a ride down the street. I want to walk it, but I'm scared I'll get lost. I'm scared it'll get dark too... it's almost 7. I just want some stupid fucking chicken. ...but no... too bad. People with MS don't get KFC. People with MS get to suck their own ass.
FUCK YOU
Saturday, April 8, 2006
April 8, 2006
9:04 AM - 4/8/06
Who cares?
Over the last few days, my hits went from about 600 a day, to about 300 a day. ...and I won't even mention the lack of comments.
What sucks even more is that this is happening while I'm falling into a very, very scary depression. I can usually use the blog to keep me going through the depression spells, but this time, I can't.
Sometimes I wonder why I bother keeping a blog at all.
This morning is one of those times.
9:28 AM - 4/8/06
~Have to turn the channel
Well, perhaps the point of another project is to make it through whatever it is that's going on with me. I've been scary depressed over the last few days, and the tv is talking to me again.
Maybe, if I hide in the past, the present won't be able to find me and kill me.
1:05 PM - 4/8/06
~The Scraps project
ok, so this is my planned project...
I have a stack of completely unorganized writing that's about a foot tall. Everything from bar napkins to college papers are in there. I'm going to just take it one piece at a time. If I think it's worth sharing, I'll post it here.
Just be aware, that in all likelihood, what is being posted has nothing to do with you personally. Too, I'm purposely not dating anything, unless I think that it's completely safe to. I'll just leave a link back to this post to let people know that it's an older piece of writing.
People's privacy is important to me, as are people's feelings. I'll be doing my best to respect both.
If you get something from what I post, I will be very glad you did. Whether or not it's actually about you, maybe there's something in it that might make you think about your own life or relationships, and that might help you get you to a better place in your own head. I can hope, I guess.
Thanks, in advance, for reading. It means more to me than you even suspect.
7:15 PM - 4/8/06
~I was just born weird.
(part of the Scraps project)
I just wanted to post this. (Sorry about the poor quality of the scan. I'm working on that.)
I'm an odd one, I am.
Who cares?
Over the last few days, my hits went from about 600 a day, to about 300 a day. ...and I won't even mention the lack of comments.
What sucks even more is that this is happening while I'm falling into a very, very scary depression. I can usually use the blog to keep me going through the depression spells, but this time, I can't.
Sometimes I wonder why I bother keeping a blog at all.
This morning is one of those times.
9:28 AM - 4/8/06
~Have to turn the channel
Well, perhaps the point of another project is to make it through whatever it is that's going on with me. I've been scary depressed over the last few days, and the tv is talking to me again.
Maybe, if I hide in the past, the present won't be able to find me and kill me.
1:05 PM - 4/8/06
~The Scraps project
ok, so this is my planned project...
I have a stack of completely unorganized writing that's about a foot tall. Everything from bar napkins to college papers are in there. I'm going to just take it one piece at a time. If I think it's worth sharing, I'll post it here.
Just be aware, that in all likelihood, what is being posted has nothing to do with you personally. Too, I'm purposely not dating anything, unless I think that it's completely safe to. I'll just leave a link back to this post to let people know that it's an older piece of writing.
People's privacy is important to me, as are people's feelings. I'll be doing my best to respect both.
If you get something from what I post, I will be very glad you did. Whether or not it's actually about you, maybe there's something in it that might make you think about your own life or relationships, and that might help you get you to a better place in your own head. I can hope, I guess.
Thanks, in advance, for reading. It means more to me than you even suspect.
7:15 PM - 4/8/06
~I was just born weird.
(part of the Scraps project)
I just wanted to post this. (Sorry about the poor quality of the scan. I'm working on that.)
I'm an odd one, I am.
Friday, April 7, 2006
April 7, 2006
9:22 AM - 4/7/06
~Balam
Some people want to ally themselves with that which they fear. Others want to hide from that which they fear. Still others are content to observe that which they fear, from what they consider to be a safe distance.
Demons are demons. If you ally yourself with a demon, the demon will lose interest. There is no safe distance. There is no hiding. Demons will find you in dreams. Demons will follow you to the grave without even taking a step.
I sleep better at night, knowing that you are out there, cowering in fear.
2:42 PM - 4/7/06
~points
My head is messy. It hurts, and my eyes are screwed up. My ears are bad too. ...as usual.
Been feeling pretty scattered. Feel like I should do another blog "project". At the same time, even just the thought of it overwhelms me. The last one, the MS Awareness project, was difficult on a lot of levels, and for a lot of reasons. A lot of my writing names names, so to speak, and not only is other people's privacy important to me, but my feelings about other people aren't always something I wish to share with the world. I could have changed the names, and in some cases I (sort of) did, but the dates would have given things away to people who have known me for a while, who read this blog, so I left a lot out.
Maybe I should do that... just post writing and leave the dates a mystery. The only problem with that, is that people will assume that the writing is current, or certainly about them, and I'll get tired of explaining myself. Then, I guess I could link the entries to an explanation/disclaimer page.
...but what is the point? The MS Awareness project had a point. I was trying to accomplish something, trying to educate people. What point would slapping up random writing serve? Entertaining people? Showing people how messed up my head is? Exposing my pain? Revenge?
I do struggle with that. There are still a few people around that I feel hatred towards. Many days, I want to lash out. I usually don't though. I hang onto "two wrongs don't make a right", and still my fingers. I can't say that I've done that throughout this blog though. Sometimes the rage gets the best of me. It usually has to do with love though. Those are really the only people who I feel that sort of emotion about. Love and hate... opposite sides of a tossing coin. I think that I wrote that once, a long time ago. I think that it's the love which stills my fingers. When the love starts to fade, it stops being about right and wrong. It just becomes about throwing a temper tantrum until I'm sated.
I have no clue what I'm talking about.
I think I need a drink.
~Balam
Some people want to ally themselves with that which they fear. Others want to hide from that which they fear. Still others are content to observe that which they fear, from what they consider to be a safe distance.
Demons are demons. If you ally yourself with a demon, the demon will lose interest. There is no safe distance. There is no hiding. Demons will find you in dreams. Demons will follow you to the grave without even taking a step.
I sleep better at night, knowing that you are out there, cowering in fear.
2:42 PM - 4/7/06
~points
My head is messy. It hurts, and my eyes are screwed up. My ears are bad too. ...as usual.
Been feeling pretty scattered. Feel like I should do another blog "project". At the same time, even just the thought of it overwhelms me. The last one, the MS Awareness project, was difficult on a lot of levels, and for a lot of reasons. A lot of my writing names names, so to speak, and not only is other people's privacy important to me, but my feelings about other people aren't always something I wish to share with the world. I could have changed the names, and in some cases I (sort of) did, but the dates would have given things away to people who have known me for a while, who read this blog, so I left a lot out.
Maybe I should do that... just post writing and leave the dates a mystery. The only problem with that, is that people will assume that the writing is current, or certainly about them, and I'll get tired of explaining myself. Then, I guess I could link the entries to an explanation/disclaimer page.
...but what is the point? The MS Awareness project had a point. I was trying to accomplish something, trying to educate people. What point would slapping up random writing serve? Entertaining people? Showing people how messed up my head is? Exposing my pain? Revenge?
I do struggle with that. There are still a few people around that I feel hatred towards. Many days, I want to lash out. I usually don't though. I hang onto "two wrongs don't make a right", and still my fingers. I can't say that I've done that throughout this blog though. Sometimes the rage gets the best of me. It usually has to do with love though. Those are really the only people who I feel that sort of emotion about. Love and hate... opposite sides of a tossing coin. I think that I wrote that once, a long time ago. I think that it's the love which stills my fingers. When the love starts to fade, it stops being about right and wrong. It just becomes about throwing a temper tantrum until I'm sated.
I have no clue what I'm talking about.
I think I need a drink.
Thursday, April 6, 2006
April 6, 2006
7:35 AM - 4/6/06
~screw "equal to"
I just have to say, before this day begins, that I have no clue why I'm bothering with going to see Neurodude, other than because the appointment was scheduled.
Other than prescribing drugs which won't do me any good, there's nothing he can do. That's all that most doctors are anymore... drug pushers. Not that I have a clear idea what I think they should be, other than that.
I think that I might have to start planning my next delusion. I used to get through the MPD shit by just knowing that I was an advanced human being... that I had evolved further... it wasn't a disease, it was a gift... I wasn't sick, I was superior. Well, it got me through. Not sure how to get back there though. When the rage creeps in, thinking that one is superior can be quite dangerous.
Have to be inferior today. I have this appointment, and Nessie has been asking to see Chairy recently.
6:16 PM - 4/6/06
~Maybe, if I put the Detrol in my ears...
So, as I expected, the appointment was, pretty much, a waste of time. He asked about my symptoms, I told him about them, and he suggested this, that, or the other medication... and this, that, or the other specialist. The appointment ended with me agreeing to reconsider consulting with the Neuropsych, and a prescription for Xanax, which may as well be Pez, with the dosage it's written for. I'm to see him in 5 months, before which I'll have another MRI, unless I end up entering the hospital, if things get too bad. He still attempted to argue for the Solu-Medrol, but I just translated whatever it was he was saying about it into "blah blah blah".
He apologized for the whole ER mess. That, I was happy he did. He also told the story of the evil Neurocrunchy to the Med student who was in with him today. We all had a good chuckle about the "try putting tissue paper in your ears" solution to the "I have recurring Hyperacusis, and have had it for (it has to be) decades now." I dunno, maybe it was the rather animated "That never occured to me! You're a genius!" line I added into Neurodude's narrative.
So, anyway... what it boils down to is that I have MS, this is my life, and it doesn't get better, woohoo. All they can do is try to treat the symptoms, and if I'm a stubborn prick about taking the latest meds, because I don't want to play the game, then it's on me. Dude really needs to stop talking to drug reps though. I'm starting to be able to predict what he'll recommend next because of the amount of tv I watch.
My blood pressure was high, per usual. I'll talk to my primary about that in May (if I really want to). I think it was 140 over 100 today. Pulse was 100. Then, I hadn't eaten, and that place stresses me out a bit. Sensory overload.
Nessie didn't get to hang out with Chairy, but she waved to Chairy's cousin while we were getting out of the car so that the valetdude could park it.
Have to remember to apply for one of those nifty handicapped parking placards. Even though I don't drive, I can use it in whatever car happens to chauffeur my sorry ass around. Even if I'm doing ok that day, it'd be nice to give the parking perk to RavensWings while I'm in the car with her. No one pays her to do this for me.
I reassured Nessie that she'll probably see Chairy soon.
Summer is coming.
~screw "equal to"
I just have to say, before this day begins, that I have no clue why I'm bothering with going to see Neurodude, other than because the appointment was scheduled.
Other than prescribing drugs which won't do me any good, there's nothing he can do. That's all that most doctors are anymore... drug pushers. Not that I have a clear idea what I think they should be, other than that.
I think that I might have to start planning my next delusion. I used to get through the MPD shit by just knowing that I was an advanced human being... that I had evolved further... it wasn't a disease, it was a gift... I wasn't sick, I was superior. Well, it got me through. Not sure how to get back there though. When the rage creeps in, thinking that one is superior can be quite dangerous.
Have to be inferior today. I have this appointment, and Nessie has been asking to see Chairy recently.
6:16 PM - 4/6/06
~Maybe, if I put the Detrol in my ears...
So, as I expected, the appointment was, pretty much, a waste of time. He asked about my symptoms, I told him about them, and he suggested this, that, or the other medication... and this, that, or the other specialist. The appointment ended with me agreeing to reconsider consulting with the Neuropsych, and a prescription for Xanax, which may as well be Pez, with the dosage it's written for. I'm to see him in 5 months, before which I'll have another MRI, unless I end up entering the hospital, if things get too bad. He still attempted to argue for the Solu-Medrol, but I just translated whatever it was he was saying about it into "blah blah blah".
He apologized for the whole ER mess. That, I was happy he did. He also told the story of the evil Neurocrunchy to the Med student who was in with him today. We all had a good chuckle about the "try putting tissue paper in your ears" solution to the "I have recurring Hyperacusis, and have had it for (it has to be) decades now." I dunno, maybe it was the rather animated "That never occured to me! You're a genius!" line I added into Neurodude's narrative.
So, anyway... what it boils down to is that I have MS, this is my life, and it doesn't get better, woohoo. All they can do is try to treat the symptoms, and if I'm a stubborn prick about taking the latest meds, because I don't want to play the game, then it's on me. Dude really needs to stop talking to drug reps though. I'm starting to be able to predict what he'll recommend next because of the amount of tv I watch.
My blood pressure was high, per usual. I'll talk to my primary about that in May (if I really want to). I think it was 140 over 100 today. Pulse was 100. Then, I hadn't eaten, and that place stresses me out a bit. Sensory overload.
Nessie didn't get to hang out with Chairy, but she waved to Chairy's cousin while we were getting out of the car so that the valetdude could park it.
Have to remember to apply for one of those nifty handicapped parking placards. Even though I don't drive, I can use it in whatever car happens to chauffeur my sorry ass around. Even if I'm doing ok that day, it'd be nice to give the parking perk to RavensWings while I'm in the car with her. No one pays her to do this for me.
I reassured Nessie that she'll probably see Chairy soon.
Summer is coming.
Wednesday, April 5, 2006
April 5, 2006
6:41 PM - 4/5/06
~back
Present, but tired.
My bro is on his way back to Philly. It was really good to be able to see him.
Hopefully I'll be able to get some sleep tonight, and write some tomorrow. Tomorrow, I have an appointment with Neurodude. Should be interesting.
~back
Present, but tired.
My bro is on his way back to Philly. It was really good to be able to see him.
Hopefully I'll be able to get some sleep tonight, and write some tomorrow. Tomorrow, I have an appointment with Neurodude. Should be interesting.
Monday, April 3, 2006
April 3, 2006
7:48 AM - 4/3/06
~time out
My brother is coming up for a visit today, and will be here until Wednesday. So... I'll probably be scarce.
I'll be thinking about y'all though.
Rant to each other for me.
~time out
My brother is coming up for a visit today, and will be here until Wednesday. So... I'll probably be scarce.
I'll be thinking about y'all though.
Rant to each other for me.
Sunday, April 2, 2006
April 2, 2006
10:43 AM - 4/2/06
~Take your time
I wonder when they'll stop this completely annoying and pointless tradition of changing the clocks by an hour twice a year.
2:29 PM - 4/2/06
~On Happiness
Just what is currently flying around in my head...
Happiness is something only recognized when there is a comparable negative extreme in your reality. You don't know happiness, unless you've felt, and can recall, something which felt just as bad as the good feels good. It ceases to be "happiness", when it's constant. You either feel things, or your don't. "Numb", and not feeling pain, is not "happy". Not ever feeling negative emotion isn't "happiness", it's "shutting down". Feeling "happiness" involves involves actual feeling. In order to actually feel, you have to care. If you don't care, that's apathy, not happiness. If you do care, then you can feel happiness and/or pain, depending on your current reality. If you change your mind, and alter your perception, that is delusion, not reality. Reality involves the rest of the world too.
If you overprotect yourself from pain, you will not know true happiness.
~Take your time
I wonder when they'll stop this completely annoying and pointless tradition of changing the clocks by an hour twice a year.
2:29 PM - 4/2/06
~On Happiness
Just what is currently flying around in my head...
Happiness is something only recognized when there is a comparable negative extreme in your reality. You don't know happiness, unless you've felt, and can recall, something which felt just as bad as the good feels good. It ceases to be "happiness", when it's constant. You either feel things, or your don't. "Numb", and not feeling pain, is not "happy". Not ever feeling negative emotion isn't "happiness", it's "shutting down". Feeling "happiness" involves involves actual feeling. In order to actually feel, you have to care. If you don't care, that's apathy, not happiness. If you do care, then you can feel happiness and/or pain, depending on your current reality. If you change your mind, and alter your perception, that is delusion, not reality. Reality involves the rest of the world too.
If you overprotect yourself from pain, you will not know true happiness.
Saturday, April 1, 2006
April 1, 2006
10:34 AM - 4/1/06
~Country Mouse. Sewer Rat.
So, the project is done. I don't know if it really helped anyone else out, but I think that it might have done me some good, on one level or another. I'm glad it's finished though. The weather is changing, and per usual, so is my head.
It was so hot in here last night that I actually had to turn my a/c on. Tell you what though, above and beyond the cool air, the constant hum of the unit is like gold to me. It covers up all the little noises that would otherwise wake me.
My brother is coming up to visit for a couple of days, on Monday. This makes me smile. I really wish that we lived closer. On my good days, when I feel like it's safe to be around other people, I really do hate being here in Massachusetts. I'm a city-boy. I eat trees, I don't hug them! (Sorry, couldn't resist.)
Which reminds me... I have to make sure that I buy a lottery ticket. The jackpot is up to 138 million. That'll pay the bills for a while, after I get my ass back to Philly (where it belongs!), and it should also cover the cost of a driver, so that I can see RavensWings all the time. :)
11:18 AM - 4/1/06
That time of year
Something feels off... bad off.
I hate not knowing whether it's all in my head, or all around me.
I'm paranoid, but sometimes... I'm right.
8:31 PM - 4/1/06
~the usual crap
I'm feeling more than a little "off".
It's tough to describe the feeling... something like a combination of bored, apathetic, sad, and desperate... I suppose.
I want to do something, yet I don't know what I'd do, if I could do at all.
Minutes feel like hours.
So much pain... yet, nothing I can pin it on. Nothing I can take a pill for either.
I think that I might just have to go into "stare at the tv" mode, for a while.
I can pretend like I'm in the hospital... only it's a smoker-friendly hospital... but you have to make your own food. ...but that's ok, because there aren't people chasing you with pills and needles.
I wish that there were hospitals that you could go into in order to get better.
I wish that I could get better.
~Country Mouse. Sewer Rat.
So, the project is done. I don't know if it really helped anyone else out, but I think that it might have done me some good, on one level or another. I'm glad it's finished though. The weather is changing, and per usual, so is my head.
It was so hot in here last night that I actually had to turn my a/c on. Tell you what though, above and beyond the cool air, the constant hum of the unit is like gold to me. It covers up all the little noises that would otherwise wake me.
My brother is coming up to visit for a couple of days, on Monday. This makes me smile. I really wish that we lived closer. On my good days, when I feel like it's safe to be around other people, I really do hate being here in Massachusetts. I'm a city-boy. I eat trees, I don't hug them! (Sorry, couldn't resist.)
Which reminds me... I have to make sure that I buy a lottery ticket. The jackpot is up to 138 million. That'll pay the bills for a while, after I get my ass back to Philly (where it belongs!), and it should also cover the cost of a driver, so that I can see RavensWings all the time. :)
11:18 AM - 4/1/06
That time of year
Something feels off... bad off.
I hate not knowing whether it's all in my head, or all around me.
I'm paranoid, but sometimes... I'm right.
8:31 PM - 4/1/06
~the usual crap
I'm feeling more than a little "off".
It's tough to describe the feeling... something like a combination of bored, apathetic, sad, and desperate... I suppose.
I want to do something, yet I don't know what I'd do, if I could do at all.
Minutes feel like hours.
So much pain... yet, nothing I can pin it on. Nothing I can take a pill for either.
I think that I might just have to go into "stare at the tv" mode, for a while.
I can pretend like I'm in the hospital... only it's a smoker-friendly hospital... but you have to make your own food. ...but that's ok, because there aren't people chasing you with pills and needles.
I wish that there were hospitals that you could go into in order to get better.
I wish that I could get better.
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