not-quite.org

You can only handle so much stress per day. If your quota is taken up just living at home, you can’t handle anything else, thus an effective shut down.

I’d imagine if home were a place you could truly relax, you’d be able to cope with the outside world more effectively.

I want to be invisible. Or rather, I want to not exist but that will be harder to pull off. I’m planning on spending the next few days by myself, offline, away from anyplace where anyone might possibly have even heard of me. The only problem is, I’m expecting to hear back about a job interview so I have to be reachable by phone which kind of foils the whole plan. But, it’s the greater good, apparently, so I gotta buck up and deal with it.

I also have to make it through today which just the thought of is sending me into a panicked state. I’m telling myself to grow up and deal with it but so far that’s not working. Surprisingly. *rolls eyes*

It’s approaching time to start getting ready for my therapy appointment so I should go do that. I’ll probably cry today because I totally have my shit together today. *snorts* Yeah.

I won’t lie. At midnight on New Years Eve, I prayed. For a healthier, happier, more prosperous year for myself and all of those that I care about.

I need to do something but the more I talk about it, the more upset I get. It’s like, the less it gets brought up the better. But of course then I get pissed off that no one is making a big deal about it because it is huge and at least one person should give a shit. There’s never any winning with me. I’m just stuck in my crisis mode, waiting on someone to get back to me so we can keep this thing from progressing any further. Nothing is really getting accomplished unless if you consider avoiding people an accomplishment.

I’m just conflicted about everything. I make no sense. I’m starting to see where they (ie: the people I always made fun of and never understood) are coming from. I feel it’s that way too. Being more specific is not something I can do right now – or maybe ever. I’m still trying to figure out if, how, and when I need to break the news to other people and kicking myself because I know how disappointed they will be. That seems to be the only thing I’ve been good at lately. I’m just a rock star in the realm of disappointment.

In other news, I’m trying to figure out exactly what I should to in regards to my education. There’s a program I’m interested in but I am not interested in taking 18 units in a semester. That’s just not going to happen – especially if I’m expected to maintain a B average. So we’ll see what happens with that. It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the crisis right now but I have to get this shit in order by the 17th. The crisis has until the 21st so I suppose I should go with the deadline rather than the severity, right? Blah, who knows.

There is just no figuring this shit out.

I have a problem. I have a soft spot of fuzzy critters.

I adopted two baby rats over the weekend. Two of 65 babies that they had within a week. Poor things. (Don’t let your rats breed, you stupid fucks.) I had been thinking about getting more because the dog love of my life is quickly deteriorating and I felt that I needed to have something happy, healthy and new to pick my spirits up.

Mikey… is old. He was totally fine about a month ago. Old age had caught up to him so he was slow but he was happy, still ran around, chased squirrels, bounced around whenever I went to spend time with him. Now I’m lucky if he’ll even look at me when I walk in the door. He’s incontinent as of two weeks ago. Lethargic. Not eating. Occasionally needs to be assisted outside (supporting his hind end while he slowly walks) to go potty and then back in. His liver levels are all out of whack. Something’s eating his red blood cells. The vets are confused. No answers, just symptoms.

I started coming to terms with putting him to sleep since he was showing no signs of happiness – or even awareness of his surroundings. Then the bastard pulled a 180 and was back to his old self for a few days. He’s been fluctuating between the two for the past week or so and it’s terribly draining. I want to do what’s best for him but if he’s still having good days, I’m not sure I can say okay. I just want him to be young again. Young, and healthy, and always happy. And still with me.

Halfway into the Mikey situation, it became clear that the old rats are, in fact, old. So I’m not only looking at losing my dog who I’ve had for my entire adult life, the rough teenage years and who got me through the emotional hells of high school and abuses, but two rats as well. All this looming critter death is depressing. I needed something to liven things up. Something to partially offset the upcoming losses. Is that really so wrong?

In my quest for perfection I have stumbled across the “why don’t you make lists in an effort to procrastinate but really get some things accomplished without realizing it” way of things. It’s fucking brilliant! I’m becoming more efficient as time goes on. I knew that spending so much time with The Russian was a good thing.

Basically it all comes down to is figuring me out in a roundabout way. Some say it’s the more direct approach but I’ve always been the contrary one. I read a lot of blogs (duh) and I came across a post on Chookoolonks about writing your goals down in prophecy form. This post made me wander her site a bit. Some other awesome posts are about finding what you love and “putting love, goals, and journaling together”. These posts have led to some minor research and have landed me at some more great websites with inspirational ideas. All of which is helping me pull my shit together in one way or another.

I have updated my life list over at jakapi as a result of this whole whatever you want to call it. I’ll also be updating with other pages soon.

I’m currently trying to learn how to be perfect. Needless to say, it’s not going very well.

It doesn’t help that I got started on a new medication that’s messing everything up. I was having stroke symptoms over the weekend. Ended up being on the phone with doctors all Saturday, in the weekend clinic on Sunday, and have two more appointments scheduled. The diagnosis was hyperventilation but since a side effect of the new med is sudden death, I have to do the doctor dash (see my primary doc to rule out a bunch of other stuff and then see my psychiatrist who prescribed the med to reevaluate things).

GOGOGOGOGOGOGO! That is all I’m hearing. I can’t relax. I have to be working. Thinking about work. Planning. Plotting. Scheming. Yeah, I just took off on Friday night for a drive and again on Saturday morning to go camping for a break from the stress. It was wonderful and much needed but here I am again, not even a week later and needing it again. There is no way in hell I can go camping every weekend even though I’d like to.

I’m trying to figure out a schedule for work, relationship, friends, and self without feeling like I’m neglecting anything or anyone but it’s not working out well so far. I’m constantly throwing mini-tantrums because I am not used to having to spend so much time on anything other than instant gratification for myself. Boohoo, first world problem I know. It’s a huge change and as we all know, change makes me want to pretty much kill myself and everyone around me. So it’s been fun. I have to make sure to call my psychiatrist tomorrow actually to mess with my meds a bit so that all the change won’t make me want to suddenly become a hermit and start collecting my feces in jars while naming them after my murder victims. Or something.

Ok, and the violins in this song are going to make me start crying. Good times. I think it’s time for me to say good night.

On Monday, I’m going skydiving. It is one of many things on my life list.

I’ve been crossing off a bunch this summer, I am so excited!

I have a lot of things running through my teeny little brain that I want to get down on the proverbial paper known as a blog. A good deal of them contain fragments that I’d rather certain people not read. I know that minor statement will cause demands to know if they are the one I am talking about. No. I am not directly singling out any one person. I’ve been thinking about having people create an account so that they will only see the items that I’m comfortable with but then that is too much work plus not many people would create an account so here we are. An impasse.

So instead, I will bore you with happy imagery of sharing a tiny kiddie pool with some friends and all the demented conversations that occur there. A kiddie pool with a few adults in various states of sobriety quickly turns into a cesspool – both literally and figuratively. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, except the literal cesspool. I’m all for a tinkle free kiddie pool. We’re adults so it shouldn’t be so hard, right? Urethral sphincters for the win!

Last weekend, I went on a short trip to visit a friend’s girlfriend who I kind of became friends with in my drunken stupor. I say kind of because I didn’t remember much about her but everyone assured me that I loved her and we got along well. So I drove over 700 miles round trip for her birthday party only to discover in pure sobriety that I fucking LOVE her. I basically got adopted into her family by her and her aunt while I was there since the three of us got along so well. We laughed, we cried (really), and we laughed some more. We had light-hearted discussions, heavy conversations, and filthy jokes. It was awesome. The topper was spending over an hour in bed together before falling asleep giggling about boys and telling secrets like we were 12 again. I haven’t felt that carefree in awhile. It’s nice having a girl friend. I don’t have many of them since I usually scare them off while my misogynistic attitude and politically incorrect humor. Women are such bitches. I wish she (and her man!) lived closer but it’ll be a nice excuse to go out to my family’s old vacation area since she lives about an hour away from the lake. I love that area so much. Have you ever felt like you have finally found your soul? Well that’s how I feel whenever I go there. I loved being able to enjoy it alone this time around. It was incredible.

I’m waiting for Alan to get home from guy’s night out. Our friend T is bringing him home with the promise of a lap dance. I don’t really know how to give lap dances but he is so into me that if I just sat on his lap he’d be jerking off to that for months. Boys are so easy to please. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I never have romantic relationships with women.

G’night!