Spitting out the bitter old words.

The word Grudge has come up twice in the past week, like gorge rising from my childhood. I think it's one of those words only used on other people. I'm eccentric, you are crazy, I perspire, you sweat, I'm a good judge of character, you hold grudges.

Ptooey.

A dark side, a light side, holds universe together

Through an odd happenstance, two kind acts, and I will have a significant gift card to Home Despot. Incredibly useful right now. How much duck tape can one get for fifty bucks?

Should see my list.

Wouldn't want it any other way

Yup, silence ever since. I really, honestly, wholeheartedly, am happier being honestly disliked than dishonestly liked. I want the truth, no matter what the truth.

Feeling free, again.

No, I never worry about things like that...

Whenever we take a trip, especially involving driving, I imagine us crashing and dying. I'm not the best traveler, although I love being in new places, getting there is a trial. I'm feeling like this about the house.

It will be ok, we'll be fine, we'll even enjoy it, but I have a "worst scenario" button in my head, and it's stuck ON.

Moving day timing

In 27 days I'll be in the midst of moving, which could prove very uncomfortable - again. Migraine visual disturbances this morning, but not much worse symptoms appeared. Long hours, house stress, hormones, bad nourishment, and I hit my head on the OR microscope - a non-trivial mass and hardness, all came together.

Good thing I know about drugs.

Wake the fuck up, dear.

Not angry, not personal at all. Just that she doesn't bloody well do her job, even when she knows she's on probation. Maybe she needs to lose a job to wake her up.

I hope she does, I really do.

3 AM Courage.

Courage is as much a habit as anger, hatred, or neglect. But cheerfulness and patience, bravery and constancy enrich life, while the negative patterns deform it. So, I practice, make it normal, usual.

Hard to form a phobia, for one.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

A moment of enlightenment. That death is an utter blowing out, full on gift to the universal mulch. Given fully and freely, everything is given, available, all knowledge, all intuition, all lessons learned. Only when we hold back, wanting eternal extra life, or reward, or punishment, is it all wasted and poisoned.

Burst the seed pod, not knowing how many mutations, how many chickens rather than proto-chickens, let it all be available, recycle the lot, generously, pour it all out.

Turning the air a robin's egg blue.

Not a sober post. Attempting to use alcohol to counter the sleeplessness of the corticosteriods in my hand. After zero sleep last night. Pissed off, full of shit and fucking useless.


Just want a nap, dammit.

Radio silence, as expected, really.

I'd like to be wrong. My pessimism about the care and interest from others is not healthy, but it's so often exactly right. Hard to dismiss it, however much I'd be happier without it.

Cynicism should not be rewarded so often.

Genetics don't do as much as some would like.

On the other hand, I am not nice. I have a mean streak in me that stretches over decades. I try not to indulge it, but the genetic kin do bring it out in me.

Working out domestic hostility.

Where the fuck did I come from?

Not sure how I managed sanity or intelligence - given. My eldest brother is an idiot. My mother is absent all curiosity.

Not that I'm claiming anything extraordinary, but I'm not dumb and I am stable, mostly thanks to Dylan, of course.

The low level stuff I can deal with.

My butt hurts, my back hurts. Not all the time. Not that badly.

But, well, enough already.

Two ways, always.

It occurred to me a while back, when my mother and brother both assured me that the hated father had not suffered, what they didn't say. Well, of course he suffered. What they didn't say was that he asked for me, which of course he didn't. If he had, they would have made a point of telling me.

He hated me right back. I find this quite satisfying.

And I got a hot bath

And the cramps and other assorted discomforts are worse, but I still have time to just be home and mope. Which is a kind of blessing. Not that there is much open other than stores.


Not spending money.

Appropriate disbelief

At least I have days off for this go round. And enough beer.

Everyone seems to assume we will get the Potential House. Both of us are feeling the same as when we first got together, with 400 people around us asking when we were going to get married - before we kissed the first time. We were appropriately wary, taking it slowly - given that we had nothing to do but hang out.

Swearing in a snowstorm

Goddamn fucking shit of cunt murdering buggerers. Obsessive farting thoughts stuck like stink in my half-arsed brain. Damned bastards of hell spawned perverts. Nose fucking morons.

No, this doesn't mean anything, really, fucktard.

Good thing, bad thing

And gods help us, we found a right house, at nearly a right price, and putting in a bid. If it works out, we could wind up with a very good place to live. If it doesn't, we have practice, and plenty of time to continue to look.


Still, shit.

Want to feel hungry

Still not feeling much appetite. Oh, I'm eating, and food tastes good enough. I just never really feel like I'd enjoy a meal, it's just a dumb thing I gotta do.

At least I can have a beer again.

The party was over on Wednesday, go home.

Ok, food poisoning was great fun and all, but I'm ready to have my normal gut back, please. Tired of reflux and nausea and general listlessness. Really, enough already.

More ginger tea.

Not a hangover, a different toxin

Recovering from food poisoning is a hellova lot more fun than going through it. Still, ow. And pfffu.

Putting me right off beer, even though that wasn't the cause.

Rules

Rules for Life.

1. There aren't any rules, but the ones you create for yourself. Do this thoroughly and thoughtfully.
2. You only have control of yourself, and even then, not as much as you often need.
3. Pay attention, learn from everything and everyone.
4. Tell the truth, especially to yourself. Always be brutally honest with yourself.
5. Be kind, first to others, no less to yourself.
6. Don't indulge in anger, delusion, addiction, excess. If you find yourself slipping into any of these, get help.
7. Don't be eager to tell yourself fairy tales, lest you find yourself living in the dark, real manifestations of them.
8. Beauty is important. Pretty is not.
9. Be curious and questioning, always.
10.Trust your instincts, the more you listen to them, the more reliable they will be.

Stop, stop, stop.

When it starts a little late, I always get my hopes up. Only to have them dashed. Not the last time, not yet.

One day.

Love comes out of like.

If, and it's a big if, my mother wants to have a relationship with and calls it love, then I have a requirement. She has to read through the other site. It's ME, raw, unfiltered, with no one in mind.

If she doesn't like it, then she doesn't like me.

Gods botherers

Oh, gods, it's about god. God loves one unconditionally. "But I don't believe there even is a god, or at least not one worthy of adoration." No matter, god loves you anyway!

Oh, well, that's not offensive in any way.

Or a disaster, whichever.

We've decided, gods help us. We are going to buy. Getting our financial ducks hatched, with a view to putting them in a row.

It's going to be an adventure.

Craving sea level

So blah, so tired, dispirited and disjointed. Not sure why I'm doing anything I'm doing. We talk about possibly buying a house/condo, and I realize how stuck we are here.

This is not where I wanted to end up, washed up on this no-longer-a shore.

Artie chokes three, for a dollar.

Artichokes. I really enjoy them. But they leave my mouth hostile to any other food.

Including tea and beer, which is sad.

Not going to go on forfuckingever

I refuse. I will not live into deep old age. I will end it before then.

I will not outlive my usefulness.


Oh, and Bob Klahn, the crossword complier, I detest him. Not in a bullshit playful way, as in he has added to the groundlevel irritation of life in a completely unnecessary and petty way. He has made the world a worse place.

Screw 'em

OUT, out, out. Enough and enough. Shoo.


You heard me.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Did I really think I wanted any of these people in my life ever again? Or did I feel I had to let them back in? I certainly didn't realize it would be all my job to do.

If they want more, it's on them, I'm done and done.

Interrogation techniques

Talked with my eldest brother. Still an ass, still not as smart as he thinks he is. I silently called "bullshit" and let it slide.


Lots of training and intention meant I said exactly as much as I intended and not a word more.

When the long estranged father is found to be dead.

Il bâtard c'est mort. Two weeks ago, 9/11. Found the death notice googling around this morning. I don't mind that none of my remaining genetic family have contacted me, keeps it very clear. Mutual lack of interest.

But I do feel as if I've had a bash on the head. No pain, no anger, not happy or sad, just stunned and stupefied.

Sent an email to my cousin. Left a "condolences on your loss" with my email address on the guestbook, just to make sure everyone understands that I know, and know that if they don't contact me it's because it is clearly intentional. No excuses. Form has been observed.

When they try to drop you in the crap, but fall in themselves.

Isn't it wonderful when a liar sets themselves up, and walks right into their own shit? Even better when they do it while dumping on you in front of witnesses. Like, a supervisor, to whom this problem has been brought before.

Oh, how I laughed.

There is no glory in violence

No, I'm not going to play pirate. They were evil bastards, terrorists, thieves, murderers, rapists. They continue to this day, off Somalia, anyplace too unstable to contain them.

I don't get the joke.

Super Cute Squeal

I have heard the word Onsie way too many times today. And, is it critical that a baby have a 9 month photo portrait? Mom took snapshots of me with her brownie.

I only ever had official portraits through school, and I hated every one of them.

Ok, here are my arbitrary and ironclad rules.

Yes, I have opened comments here. But keep it down, wouldja? And no cross contamination with the other site.

This offer will be withdrawn at any whiff of anything I don't much like.

Just, why?

Why did you do that? What were you thinking? Who asked you?

Why didn't you just fucking ask me first?

Pain in the ass

Fucking back fucking hurts. Hard day, tried to be useful. Some people still discontented.

Ow.

Just a bit of gross

Giving a break on a case just finishing. About to put dressings on a shoulder, and I noticed, and pointed out, a HUGE, pus filled zit that would be under the dressing to the resident and fellow. They are wondering if it was in their sterile field the whole time, while clearing it away with gauze and alcohol.

They managed to keep it out of the dressing, but egads it was massive.

Oh, no, everything is perfect then.

Nasty bit of severe weather, microburst winds, weather service warnings and all. Weather readings only on the hour. Local news has nothing, until long after - and that was recorded ten minutes before it hit.

Because news and weather don't ever happen on weekends.

Learn the damn skill, people

What is it about drivers who can't? Drive, park in the lines, stay in a lane, stop at a red, move up far enough at a stop, put their noses out too far into the lane, keep up with traffic, all the fucking basic skills? I mean, someone learning, sure, that takes time. But it's so noticeable these days, is it ALL texting and driving while on the phone?

Really?

female

I've said it before, I'll say it again, menopause cannot come soon enough for me.

When is a black cat a Calico? What the fuck?

Saying "I love you" means shit, unless it's followed up by the necessary action. We love Moby, he has a chip, is kept inside, taken to the vet, gets his teeth cleaned and everything else for a good life as much as we are able. A sign up about a lost cat, photo of a black cat, they called him a Calico, very large, friendly. Probably someone picked the cat up, maybe kept him inside, got him chipped while at the vet.

If you confine a creature, you are responsible for it's life and satisfaction therein, and for knowing about that life as much as humanly possible.

Cleaning of the butthole, and other joys

Sometimes, toilet paper is not enough. And the cetaphil cleaner causes the TP to disintegrate. So I got some serious moist wipes.

Diaper rash ain't funny.

Why I have not so far

I would not step in front of a car or truck or train, to do so would be to pass on my misery to someone else in an horrific way. I would not make a public spectacle, leave my remains to be found by a child - to scar them. I once thought the stairwell of a hospital would be my best available option.

Right now, I have people depending on me, so it will have to wait until after I am on my own.

I do prefer January.

Itch in the back of the throat, dry cough. Mold in the air. Dust in the eyes.

August is a rough month.

If only it could be drained off the bottom

Bad day, as in last 36 hours. Grace notes, but it wore through in spots. Very old sore spots.

I don't want to go into that bottomless pool of grief and loss.

I really don't like yappy little doggies.

Watching Dog Whisperer, and learning so much about being a better human being. And dealing with difficult people, like surgeons and cranky nurses and entitled young women. Calm, but assertive, and persistent.

And that Chihuahuas are nasty little creatures.

And I never did have a family

I wasn't wanted. I wasn't expected. My mother wanted a girl, but not the girl I turned out to be. Nor the daddy's girl that might have made him happy, or not, who knows. No, I always knew I was an accident, a surprize, not REALLY wanted, not as such.


My next oldest brother was nearly nine years previous.

And failure in 3, 2, 1 ...

Been drinking today, tried to make dinner. Wound up with a jar of salsa broken on the floor. I need the time, the space to be inept, useless, incapable sometimes. Because I'm The Responsible One so fucking often.

Just because I need it does not erase the guilt when I take it.

Assholes who think they can make anyone do anything.

Anyone who actively objects to same sex marriage, and all the rights attendant, needs to get a fucking life. No one else's marriage, of any variety, has any effect on them. It's all about distaste and power.

You can't stop any kind of fucking, deal with it.

Fingertips, fingertips, fingertips.

Got a block to smooth, buff and shine my fingernails. I recognize this as vain and irrational. But it is a continuum from sharing with my only decent roommate from 30 years ago, polish and color.

Feels nice to have very smooth fingernails.

One of those weeks

I know I'm tired when I am asleep, dreaming about taking a nap. Which happened last night. It was a good nap.

Screw the paranoia, full speed ahead

More clearly muscle aches, but across my chest and arm. Right arm. This can't be heart, it's all muscle. Got the stim on.

I hate the idea of it being more serious even being in my head.

I'm sure it's just muscular.

Been having chest tightness, figured it was a touch of asthma due to allergies. I've had a handful of episodes of exercise induced asthma over my lifetime, with the odd allergy moment that is eased by antihistamines and strong tea (theophylline.) But this one was persisting, at work, so I had a fellow nurse take a listen. No wheezing, and she suggested heart problems. I resist this, and am aware that this is in itself one of the symptoms. So I promised I would follow up. Chest tightness continues, but I am more certain this is just muscular, related to my shoulder issue. But once the suggestion is brought up, I have to resist, and resist the resistance, to both avoid paranoia, and nurse-denial.

I'm covered with tiger balm right now.

getting away from one bank

I trust my spouse with everything, no question. But when we went to close our bank account to change banks, the manager didn't so much as glance at my ID. Yes, it's a joint account, and either of us has full rights, but to not even have my identification checked, when I am sitting right there, is a bit disturbing. And I'm very glad we left this large, national, bank.

I did not shake anyone's hand there. When he said, "see you!" I muttered, "no, you won't." Because, well, he won't.

Thieving assholes

My mother told this story of my father, before they were married. She'd made candies, wintergreen flavored, a lot of work involved. They'd gone for a walk, and he was, as she described it, gobbling them up. Until they came to a bridge, and he found out they were wintergreen.

"Are you trying to poison me?" And he threw the rest of them in the stream.

She was as much shocked at his not just handing them back to her as at his peculiar accusation.

She never said explicitly, but this was obviously the point at which she knew what she was getting into, and should have run away screaming. And didn't.

The ex used to eat my chocolate, asserting "well, you left them." Yes, I left them because I was saving them for later, as I'd always done with any treat, savor it, stretch it out, make it last. Halloween candy could well last until my birthday, or longer. He never would allow me this, my little treats were his. I learned to gobble up anything I had, never to count on it being there.

I can't imagine D doing this. He always asks, even when it's clear that the treat is for both of us, just to make sure. We delight in treating each other. We share, and honor each other's 'saved.' We are generous with each other. Seems a much better way to live.

He is welcome to any chocolate I have, but never takes it without asking, and receiving permission first.

Triage should be taught early.

Maybe it's because I was taught triage. There is a core assumption that some will die, some might die, and save the more likely to live. It's a dire philosophy, but it keeps me from agonizing over dead children or when a frail elderly dies. Human, animal, languages, everything dies.

Death is one of those essential concepts that every child should get accustomed to. There will always be wastage, in any system. It may well include me.

Or you.

And we both need to be ok with this.

Cats just go where they are comfortable

Last night as I lay on my back, legs stretched out, close together, I feel the cat probing the lumpiness. He sat down just below where my knees were, reached out with both paws, pads up to my crotch, warm body sliding my calves apart, tail brushing my feet. Figured, I'm not moving for a while, and fell asleep.

Cat likes lumpy.

Why I need to stay away from Gypsies and OCD patients

I read Bury Me Standing many years ago, and it haunted me. Because this is a culture that is alien to everything I believe and value. I have compassion for them as human beings, but I feel deep dislike, discomfort, with that society. I knew, therefore, that I should not watch any of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. And of course, I did, and turned it off, unsettled and irritated. In part at myself, for being repulsed at any group. Hating my own prejudice. Although, having never met any Rom myself, and only disliking them based on what I learned about them, that is not probably the correct term.

This is a people who starts out with a whole different set of assumptions about how the world works. And I love reading, knowledge, restraint, stability, equality. I struggle not to label them as being willfully ignorant, superstitious, and treating women badly. Instead, they value their oral traditions, their beliefs are more situational, and divide their labor differently - which works in their world.

But if I had to deal with them often, I think it would grow into bigotry. This is a shameful admission.

I also know I should never work with people with OCD. I nearly hit a patient once, who was perseverating on a ritual, and managed to walk away. I never let myself be alone with patients with that disease again. It was as if they could hit a switch in my brain that disinhibited my self control and decency. I cannot trust myself there, and I will not.

Ugly truth.

shoulder joint

Thanks to a sports surgeon, my shoulder is now on the mend, and I'm sleeping at night. Apparently I have something weird in the anatomy. Sure, what the hell.

yup

My right arm needs to work, dammit

My arm/shoulder hurts. Has been for the last week. Like I need something else giving me shit.

Bugger.

Yeah, well, prove it.

Young woman at work, keeps saying what a good scrub she is. Which proves she isn't. People who are good at their work never need to brag.

Boasters are always wrong.

Darwinism in Action

Five children have drowned over the last two weeks, locally. The meltwater is fast and cold, and lots of warnings have been broadcast. It's not a secret.

Parental supervision is often not what it is cracked up to be.

This and that

Worst pain squeezed away in a very good massage, ache and hormones left to drain me of all will to move. Beer helps me not fucking mind. Still, crappy.

Bugger

Not-driving while distracted

Lately, I have come across more and more drivers who sit at green lights, long after they have changed. I suspect texting. When I have driven toward a green light for half a block, and have to honk at the car stopped at one the whole time, I have to wonder what they fuck they are doing.

Red means stop, green means go, as every young child can tell.

For the record

Aside from the one time when I was assigned to train him, help him get the details in and his speed up to par, and he turned red and shouted at me in barely restrained fury, "SHUT UP!" I made no further complaint about him. When my supervisor asked about him very recently, I refused to make vague reports. I admitted I found him difficult to work with, but unless I had something specific to describe, I would keep my feelings to myself.

That one time I reported immediately, for behaviour I considered well outside professional conduct. I made no further mention of it. He, however, didn't even acknowledge me for over six months. Which is odd, considering that by the codes of military service, (when he strongly self identifies as Marine) no matter your personal feelings, you salute and greet anyone crossing your path. I'd give him a "good morning" and he would pretend I didn't exist. I found this very funny and childish, but never pushed further.

Not a whole person we were dealing with there. Divorced from himself.

Tra la la la LAH!

So, marine gave his notice. When S tells me this, a small smile twitched the corner of my mouth, then was suppressed. S saw, though, and tells me this has been the usual reaction. We talked later, both relieved that he had not been fired and escorted out by security. Both admitted to each other our suspicions that he really is the type to return, armed and begrudged.

I really was afraid of what he was capable of, and I'm very relieved that he will be gone.

Just be peacocks, and quick mocking women, ok?

D went for a walk before the heat accumulated this morning. And stumbled across the forming up of the Gay Pride Parade. We both went back out to watch a while, part of it coming within a couple of blocks of us. We've seen better organized riots, there seemed to be two staging areas within two blocks, with the parade circling the main festival area. Very colorful, although way too much crappy club music thumping around. D has gotten cynical about the utility of such movements, I figure it helps changing public attitudes. Making it familiar, a bit funny, normalizes it for many. We've finally gotten to the tipping point where more people are on board with equal rights and marriage for gays, and I really think parades, and TV characters, have been a huge part of that. Not a direct route, and financial and political power have to be building as well, but I think this does keep a public spirit keeping those real movements going.

The one part of the movement that still bothers me is the Female Impersonators, drag queens, flamboyant cross dressers*. Men taking on extreme female stereotypes, feels insulting, condescending and very, very offensive. Akin to wearing black-face. I fitted another piece to this today, that men who wish to be splashy and decorative, instead of looking to show-girls and other female entertainers, could well look to eras when men were peacocks. Model themselves instead after the fops and dandies, with lace and codpieces, bright colors and wigs - but without mocking women.

*Non-flamboyant cross dressers are usually too sad to irritate me.

Matriculation before freshman year is bad.

My only regrets involve holding on too long, believing that I was wanted when it was only that my existence merely fed a badly articulated need. The last year with the ex, the last month of contact with a once dear friend, when I should have simply been the bad guy and put an end to it. Sticking to theater instead of trying a different degree course when I never got cast.

Actually, I also regret committing too soon to a course of study when I had a full ride scholarship to college, instead of taking all kinds of classes and finding out what I would love.

Just not, well.

Can't seem to move today. Having the place all to myself, I'm using it by not stirring. I realize this makes no damn sense.

Cat doesn't count.

Tiny little spasms

My left eyebrow and forehead is twitching, and has been for nearly 24 hours and I'm fucking tired of it. Tried everything I can think of and nothing helps. Napped for a while and it stopped, but now it's back.

Twitch, twitch, twitch.

Or, you could just do your job, and not mind.

For all that I put my irritations here, I can honestly say I have rejected Anger and all it's works, and all it's empty promises. Snapped at by a circ who was overwhelmed, I stayed calm and wondered at all the energy she wasted getting angry, that a calm demeanor would have saved. I shrugged and kept to my own job.

Oh, well. Our own sins committed by others are most egregious. I will simply go and sin no more.

Cancelled plans

Feeling crappy and fatigued and dizzy. Warnings expired without drama. Big disappointments.

Feh

Is that buzzing or are you just...? nevermind.

Something going on, sinuses and ears humming like mad, lots of pressure. Nauseated, dizzy, all that happy horseshit. Mold allergies, likely.

Blech and tinnitus.

Trolls? Here? Not gonna happen.

So, a random guy leaves a comment on this site, and I let it through. Then he responds again (calling me "kid" with nice condescension) and chides me for a joke about marines being none too bright, he being a former of the ilk. Proving my point. Which is why this site is closed this month, but I still write here for my own ... benefit is not the correct word.

If I've known you as a reader elsewhere for a long time, you could have gotten away with that. A jerkoff stranger whose blog I checked out and don't care to read, cannot.

You are not invited.

Is it not clear? This is where I store my crap. Don't like it? Too fucking bad.

Shoo.

Not helping himself at all

Had to work with "the marine*" today. He switched his assignment, told everyone a different story about how that happened, none of it his doing oh no. I found out no one likes working with him, and I have made no official complaint.

Maybe there will be changes. On the other hand, he's just the type to come back after being fired, armed and angry.

*What do you call a marine with an IQ of 100? A platoon.

whatever dude

Resigned to being friendless the rest of my life. Never very good at friendship at the best of times. Indulging my anxieties and hiding out.

Fuck it all.

Sure sign of a deranged mind.

I think I have been the bad guy often enough. When a highly rated volunteer organization corners me into having to say No repeatedly, instead of letting me go politely, it's getting a bit much. Or maybe I really am unlikable.

Do not trust anyone who uses exclamation marks in official communication, or un-ironically.

Scape goats and bad guys

I learned, from a really good guy who broke up with me the night I got activated to Gulf War I, that it is sometimes honorable to be the "bad guy." I had already taken on the role with the ex, then learned that I'd done the right thing. I still respect him (good guy) for telling the truth straight out, no matter how it made him look. A clean break, no muddled blame.

Former friend tried to dither and backpedal, and I took on the chin what she should have.

Happy fucking mother's day.

As for my mother. She chose her abusive husband (my abusive father) over her own children, when we were still children. I tried for a long, long time, as long as I'd been in her debt, and more.

We have not spoken for over a decade. I have not seen her for eleven years today. I'm sad about this, and deeply relieved.

Sucks when your bronchioles spasm

Woke at 0350, congested, mind spinning madly. Sat up for a while, finally took benedryl and went back to sleep. Still woke at 0830, with incipient asthma tightness. Frightening enough.

Drank lots of strong tea for the theophylline which helped a lot.

And there is no excuse for neglect.

I have a problem with neglect. With letting too much slide for too long for those who you claim to love and care for. And former friend had a habit of neglect.

Attention is important.

What is ok, what is not.

I had to report to a supervisor about a charge nurse's unprofessional conduct. Nothing salacious, but definitely not OK. Manager initially asked me about a scrub (with a mean streak), and I had to say, no, not the problem. I don't like to work with him, but he is who he is, and I have nothing specific and measurable to report about his behaviour, so I have no official issue with him. I will not gossip, I will not tattle. I will report conduct that breaches acceptable behaviour of a supervisor.

Some people should not ever be in charge, and I know because I am one of them. But then, I don't allow myself to be put in that position.

8 1/2

My father has 8 1/2 fingers. The first was lost long ago, and the story was never told. This is suspect, because this man told stories about everything, usually elaborate lies. The fact that there was no explanation at all tells me he was doing something extraordinarily stupid.

The 1/2 finger was due to carelessness with a lawnmower at his cemetery groundskeeper job.

No wonder, really.

I keep remembering things I said to my former friend, or did with the assumption that I was her friend, and I cringe in retroactive embarrassment. No wonder she dumped me. Although at the time, I was often assured I was fine, welcome, good as I was, accepted completely.

Apparently, not.

Rudeness only visible to the rude

Two fucktards at work. One who does not take his animals to a vet. (ugh) And the other who treats everyone like crap, and assures me I am rude.

I know how seriously to take this, but it still rankles.

Some things last, others don't

Went through the photos. So many of my dear former friend. All so very sad. Nothing to be done.

Permaheadache this week.

Ain't gonna float no more.

Not well, in my body, but first my mind. Being floated to another facility sounds ok. But it is like being thrown in the deep end, then someone pushes your head under, all in fun.

So, today, I'm sick at home, and rightfully so.

Suicidal ideation

I have gotten so I don't consider suicidal thoughts a comfort. Which doesn't mean they never happen, I just don't let them run around wild. They've been a default so much of my existence.

More than just not doing it because I didn't want some poor soul to have to clean up the body.

New normal, continued.

After the prep for the temporary tooth cap, I developed more cold sores, oral herpes. As I formed an unprecedented mass of blisters after the split lip. Looks like this will be a consistent feature of my life from now on.

And the scar already always feels like I've got a permanent cold sore starting.

The years pile on

Carving my way through the dusty muck, neglected corners. The kind of pain that doesn't hurt, but punches deeply, slowing me, dragging on me.

How the fuck did I do all these moves, before?

Why is this so fucking hard?

Bad day of irritation. Last night lost my temper at counter staff at fast food place. She would not listen, I knew I would not get my order done right. But first tried to get her to listen. She wouldn't, or couldn't, and after snapping, we walked out. Angry for several minutes until I could calm down, and apologize for losing my cool. Very bad.

Really wanted that chicken dinner, all dark, with greek dressing on the salad.

Playing the odds with women friends

In my half asleep halfdream she visits me, and asks me what she can do. And I tell her, "take the lead." And she isn't happy with this, that it's all on her. But I explain, no, it's because when I lead, I overwhelm, I take over, and I can't do that again, because it does not work. I push, I'm too intense, I ignore slights and neglects because I love entirely. I expect neglect from friendships - especially from women. I have to admit, I don't believe she will keep up the attempt to rebuild the friendship, she is not the odds-on favorite.

I'll stick with my love, and my cat, and let all other friendships go.

Brain Cloud

Got a lot of errands done, but I'm sick and tired of wasting my weekends on tasks or numbed immobility. Is it so much to want to go to a museum, attend a lecture, take a hike.

Yes, apparently, it is.

Bone lazy

Awake at 6, every intention of making it to the dealership to get the recall repair done. Dark, windy, decided to wait until light, then until after breakfast, until my gut settled, then just stopped waiting and stopped.

Feeling idle and useless.

And the cat curled up in my crotch for hours last night.

Had to get a new watch, since I depend on mine - not having a phone or other device. Tooth sharp, couldn't find the bone wax for a long time this morning. Expenses adding up. Have to get car in for recall, then to another place for a tune up.

Want to get properly drunk, can't even do that without repercussions that cancel the ease of the buzz

Coining new slurs and epithets

In re my 88 year old father, going to describe him as an Asstard. Promoting this as a new derogatory term for the stupid and asinine. It really is true, the good die young. The asstards stick around for fucking ever. He's got asthma, smokes cigars for decades, and he's bloody well still alive, the turd.

Just sayin'.

Oh, the addictions

Venting anger isn't venting, it's building up bile and destroying trust and relationships. Anger that another didn't read one's mind is just expressing utter stupidity. Anger is a drug, the more you use, the more you need to feel "normal." The more harm you cause.

Irritation is one thing, to be let go, laughed at, not invited in and turned into rage.

Just stop screwing around would you?

Finally getting over the pain of the massage, the benefits are there, but maybe I need to do a shiatsu instead next time. Twelve hours scrubbed in, on my feet, exacerbated by an anesthesiology attending who can't ask a simple question of a (reasonable) surgeon, not a help.

Gods, what I wouldn't give for a healthy back.

Getting rubbed, getting drunk.

I know when I get a massage that it will hurt more the next few days. Doesn't make it hurt any less. Just hope it does some longer term good. Not convinced. Getting buzzed. Can't fucking get drunk.

Body won't allow it.

Plenty of O2 down there

Got to stay home today. I think we've been so tired, because after a few days with enough oxygen, we are feeling depleted without it. Just not high altitude people.

Want sea level.

Happy Fucking Birthday

Birthday not important, but I prefer it to be not a bad day. Failed. Somewhat redeemed by inlaws stopping by with touchingly appropriate and welcome gift card.

Not that any of it fucking matters.

Bloody mess

And that period made an imperfect vacation a sort of nightmare. Ill and in pain and swollen the whole trip out, bleeding through repeatedly with no place to clean up. I stank, I crabbed, I hated everything. Food tasted awful.

In no mood to be traveling, and there I was, traveling.

Have I mentioned the cramps

Of course my period started this evening. OF course it did. I've been headachy and subdued the last few days, knew it was ramping up.

Oh. joy.

Just Relax

Relaxing into time off, just me and him and cat. He's more excited by the trip, which will be good. I'm just happy for the break from work, and time with him.

Realizing the ex-friend really was neglecting the friendship, profoundly. Not just a temporary, situational thing. Losing respect for her, seeing her neglect other, more important, aspects of her life, despite intermittent enthusiasms. Finding lack of discipline, follow through, to be heartbreaking character flaws that I just can't deal with.

Coming to terms.

Damn the paperwork, full speed ahead.

Two days in the sole, late room. Monday, it was to let a nurse get away early enough for a V-day date her husband had planned for her. Yesterday, it was just a complicated case that ran very long. Today, no actual work, just meetings to deal with paperwork, and I got the schedule updated, and I ran away asap.

One more damn day.

Only the good die young

Yearning for my vacation. A whole ten days off in a row, due in part to a schedule change leaving me off Friday as well. Keep imagining that my brother will inform me of a parental demise. Unlikely. They are both going to linger another decade, I expect.

I can hope.

And the years creep on

Back hurts like hell this morning. Which is saying something, because it always hurts, and for me to report pain there, means it's quite a lot worse. Will do what I can to ameliorate.

Gods I'm feeling old.

Reminders of normalcy

So, the ex used to "remind" me that I was fiddling with my toes. Well, duh, yeah. I'd managed to push my toes into a more normal position throughout my childhood, and that habitual manipulation worked. I wasn't doing myself any harm, I found it comforting to put my fingers between my toes, but he saw it as a bad habit, that he was "helping" me be aware of and stop. He also "reminded" me when I was standing with more weight on one foot or the other, as though it were bad posture, rather than normal weight shifting.

It's called Controposto.

He's old and alone now.

Small lists, not even doing that.

Not doing much today. Oh, laundry, dishes, a short stack of errands, not much more. Not enough to fill a day.

Trying to think about drivel.

Somebody Else's Problem

I've been thinking, or feeling this sense of relief. I didn't mind worrying for a friend, but now that I don't have to, I don't miss it. Not only it is not my job anymore, it's none of my damn business anymore. And I'm feeling fine about that. SEP.

Quite peaceful about this.

Milk does a stomach harm.

My mother made me drink milk for every meal. I had to finish the glass, no matter what. And everything I dished onto my own plate, but not everything she'd put there. I had a lot of stomach trouble as a kid. I hated milk. When I started living on my own, it took a while to stop that automatic habit, thinking it was nutritious or healthy or something. Gradually just stopped drinking the stuff, and my stomach began to settle down.

I never drink it now.

Memory belches

Doing better. Still getting burps of annoyance at odd moments. But that is probably just me, since I still get irked at unjust, misunderstood moments from very early childhood on. See below.

Forgetting would be wonderful, if only I could do it.

Enough of that shit.

Just watched half of Groundhog Day, in tears part of the way. I've seen this movie so many times, and it still gets right under my skin. It really should be an awful movie, so repetitious, rather sentimental, and yet. It addresses sentimentality head on, and digs underneath.

Letting go, appreciating where I am, and who I love.

When the teacher is lazy, the student just goes ahead.

So, my mother once complained about how I wiped crumbs from the kitchen table. "WHO taught you to do it that way?"

What I wish I'd said was, "Well, let's see, who was SUPPOSED to teach me? Oh, yeah, You were. Instead I made it up as best I could, and you bitch me out about it in a snide and backhanded snipe."


I cleaned my counters today.

MIddle of ick

Crappy air not worth breathing, but there is no other choice. Oh, what I wouldn't do to be nearer the coast. Right on the coast. Just a visit is nice, but nowhere near enough.

Why is it we came back here?

Where have all the poisons gone?

Damn well better be last day of cramps.

This is where the meanness goes. The bitterness, the complaints. I used to be able to tell someone, now I carp about her.

The cat loves my new, very soft, robe.

Just about had a bellyfull.

My former friend objected to my very anonymous reference to her, that was actually more my reaction to her ending of our friendship, on my blog that had a readership average of about twenty. Touchy little twit.


Sometimes, a woman has just got to know her limitations.

Oh, go take a hike.

Have you ever wanted to tell someone to go screw themselves, but you have to deal with them, it wouldn't do any good, and wouldn't make any difference anyway?

Me neither. yeah.

Not drunk as a skunk, but perhaps loose as a moose.

Just blowing my own nose

Just thinking aloud. Nothing meaningful. Sort of thought of venting spleen, but not even up to that much energy. Used to have a blog for this, but former dearest friend had access to it. So I deleted it and needed a new place. Hope I remember it's here.


When I was small, my mother would blow my nose, and she always got the timing wrong.