The Red Threads That Tie Us…

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Archive for the tag “rant”

Fairly Unreasonable Violence Below

So as I just told MFAMama, I want to roundhouse kick this
week in the face. Actually, this month. And that hurts my feelings because I LOVE
October. It’s one of my favorite months because so many fun things happen in
it! So while I still love October in a creepy, pre-teen-towards-a boy-band kinda
way (lots of squealing, jumping, sighing, fantasizing, and inappropriate
clothing), I want to kick this month in the taco currently. Although typing
that just made me giggle.

Nothing BAD has happened to me. Classic money stress, of
course. Exploded tire revealing that actually I got lied to by my idiot ex’s
idiot “friend” about said tires and all FOUR needed to be replaced. E coli
poisoning (so much blood…). Disappointment in not being able to see Navy as
frequently as I would like.  Bad things
keep happening to my friends. Massive rage/disappointment/sick to my stomach
feeling regarding something involving children and mental illness and custody
and I’ll shut up now.

… okay, so maybe some bad stuff has happened. I retract that
other statement. BUT I am surviving all that shit. And good stuff has happened.
I AM at least seeing Navy. He could be deployed, like my beautiful Adria’s
husband. He seems to want to continue seeing me. My sick family member is the
best kind of sick for what they’re sick for. And they’re getting better.
Annnnnd… I haven’t stabbed anyone. There. Good stuff.

But, Christ, I am so moody it annoys me. I hate everyone and
then I feel sad because I don’t really, I just feel crappy and want most of the
people I’m forced to interact with to stop being stupid. Or annoying. Either

So I should probably take a vacation, even it’s just to stay
at home, bundled with my dogs and watch silly movies at home. I just don’t
think I can make myself do that. Maybe this weekend will make me feel better
since The Parents are coming to visit.

I hope you guys are having a better October than I am. Tell
me a funny so we can both laugh and then go get mulled cider or something.


The One Where I Hate Myself… Again.

So apparently it’s the all new raging fad to admit that you are insane. Or at least going through some crappy times that make you feel crappy for way long than you think is acceptable. This? Sucks.

The Bloggess, always an inspiration, is calling out for people to talk about their problems. She was inspired by someone who actually made a documentary (a little one, but powerful) about coming out about his mental illness.

Part of me thinks “Awesome! I’m not alone!” But the other part is just sad that soooo many people feel this badly. Seriously? I have tears in my eyes right now. But I’m willing to admit I’m not feeling exactly stable.

I am the biggest hypocrite. I work in the mental health field. I KNOW how important it is to talk, to let people know how you are feeling. That going to therapy can be a good thing! But I’m ashamed to let certain people know I’m talking to someone. Professionally. And I cried telling my person that I was depressed. HOW CAN I FEEL THAT WAY?! I TELL EVERYONE I KNOW WHO IS HAVING ISSUES TO TALK TO SOMEONE! THAT IT’S OKAY TO TAKE THOSE MEDS IF DEEMED NECESSARY! But I’m ashamed.

I’m scared to talk to the people who really matter about how I feel. The Boyfriend? I have no idea how he is living with me right now. Maybe he doesn’t even notice. Maybe I’m making this all up in my head. All I know is I can’t sleep at night because all I think about is how I’m not enough and I’m worthless and I’M SO FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF BEING SAD AND ANGRY.

I feel like I’m just spinning around and around. I go through spurts of happy and think “Yaaaay! It’s over!” and then BAM, something happens and my mind is curled up in a ball inside my head, whimpering.

All I know is I need to stop avoiding things I worry will hurt and just fucking confront them.

Dissolving Resolve

This is why I never make New Years Resolutions. Because I am terrible at them and the petulant teenager in me apparently goes “Oh, you think you’re going to do what? Yeah… I don’t think so, bitch.”

That’s my subtle way of saying that I have not really “thought beautifully” for any length of time since my last post. Go me. I understand that I get hormone fluxes that seriously affect my temperament. But this is bullshit.

I am so tired of being negative. It’s like I cannot stop my mind from hating me and everything around me. Yes, I am tired. Yes, money is tight. Yes, I weigh more than I find attractive. These are factors in a bad mood, but it’s no real reason for the near constant barrage of negativity I’ve had slamming into my mind. I can’t turn it off once it starts!!

I have moments where I am happy and laughing, but the moments where I am nearly in tears (or I actually am sobbing, hiding in the bedroom or bathroom) or silently raging are increasing. Again.

I don’t even want to finish this because I’m upset at how ugly it is.

Ugh. I’ll try to be better. But sometimes I wish I was enough just as I am.

Car Peeves

Okay, people, when you are riding in someone else’s car, do you fiddle with their radio? Their air conditioning settings? The change they have in their dash?

No. You fucking don’t.

Okay, maybe you do, and if you do, I apologize, but I’m probably going to have to stab you at some point. Ask my Lil’Sis.

I fully understand that my intense dislike of people toying with settings in my car probably stems from my… well, flaw*. I’m possessive. Don’t touch my shit without asking, and even then… we’ll talk. If I like you. Maybe.

So take this rather healthy trait of mine and add people riding in my car. Mentally ill people who have a tendency to fidget and touch things and no idea of basic niceties of public interaction**. They adjust my settings CONSTANTLY and I’m supposed to be the mature, model-like person, so slapping their hands would probably get me fired. So instead I just sit there and fume.

I even tell them “If it’s too hot or cold, let me know, we can put a window down or mess with the heating.” It’s not like I’m never going to let them do anything. They can adjust their seat however they want! But when my radio is on, don’t change the channel, and if it’s off… leave it that way. Just. Ask.

Sorry, had to get that off my chest before I drove into oncoming traffic, screaming at my terrified passenger for turning the air conditioner on.

Which one of us is the mentally ill person again?

*Flaw? As in single? I only have one? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
** Some of them. For some things. I generalize. Shut up.

Letters to the Editor

I totally stole this idea from Shaba. I hope she forgives me. Or at least decides to punch me in person so I can see her. (I kid, if she didn’t punch Bitch/Ghost Roommate, I’m totally safe. Especially since I think she’ll be amused.)

Dear Coworker,

We work with the mentally ill. You know this client very well. You know how sensitive he is and how badly he gets thrown when his schedule is disrupted without notice and without an explanation. Is he a bit of a child about it? Yes, but THAT’S HIS FUCKING ILLNESS!! Do NOT just blow off plans with him and not explain it so that he has to come crying to me because you’re “mean” him and “don’t show respect”.

A Swift Kick in the Balls,

The Frazzled New Girl Who Apparently Knows More Than You


Dear Lady in the POS Chevy,

I understand that obviously your life and your business is far more important then my meaningless existence. However… that doesn’t make it okay for you to ride my ass in a 25 zone when I’m already doing 40. I’m already going pretty fucking fast for a twisty road, you bitch. Oh, and when we get to the stop sign, where there’s the fork to make it easier to go right of left DO NOT MAKE LIKE YOU’RE GOING RIGHT TO FUCKING CUT ME OFF BECAUSE I WASN’T GOING FAST ENOUGH, YOU USELESS WASTE OF SPERM AND EGG! You are so fucking lucky I didn’t hit you. Probably because I can actually control my vehicle.

Fuck You,

The Purple Faced Screaming Turtle


Dear Other Driver,

I understand that I might have a road rage issue. That was addressed in the above letter. Still, I sort of figured it was basic driving knowledge that when one side of the road is clear, that doesn’t make it a good driving decision to pull out of the parking lot and into the other lane when that lane side has ohhhh… five or six cars in it. Just a thought.

No, I won’t Let You In,

The Still Pissed Crazy Girl


Dear Self,

You should probably work on the anger level and response. We’d really like to avoid an aneurism. Oh, and jail. We’d like to avoid that too.

Thanks Bunches,


Why Yesterday Sucked and How it was Made Better

Yesterday was supposed to be amazing. I was finally going to get Chinese dumplings (yaaaay!) and I was going to try making Bolognese sauce for the first time for dinner. Well, the dinner got tanked almost immediately. The Boyfriend’s parents had pasta the night before and wanted to relax in their own home for a night. So move that to Thursday, no big deal.

Then I get to work, pleased because I have a fairly full schedule and I’m the kind of freak that wants to work if I’m getting paid. I know, weeeirdo. I take care of my first client, scoring a delicious hot coffee on the way back for the both of us. Then I get to the parking lot and see This Guy. This Guy is not my client, but we all take care of each other’s clients when we can, so I’ve dealt with him before. This Guy is angry at the world, feels totally abused, and it a tall, built, heavily tattooed man with a gruff, rumbling voice and isn’t afraid to get in your face. Basically, the kind of guy who scares normal people, but I brush off because I have no survival instinct. I mean, because I’ve dealt with this type a lot and if he wasn’t also an asshole, we might be friends.

Well, This Guy wants to know why the fuck his case manager isn’t here if her van is. Never mind this is a common van, OBVIOUSLY it’s hers because he wants to talk to her. So I tell him I have to deal with some things, have appointments, but I’ll try to squeeze in some time for him to get some things taken care of. Fine, he wanders off.

I pop into the waiting room to find my 1130 decided that 945 was a good time to meet. This Guy starts getting angry, wanting to know how long this will take which when I get all frosty and tell him this is why appointments are made. He terrifies my 1130-turned-945, who is now calling me worried This Guy is going to punch him. 1130-turned-945 and I get some things signed and I remind him why we’re meeting at 1130 and return to deal with This Guy. Fine, we’ll get shit from your old apartment to your new place and stop at the doctor’s, but I HAVE to be back by 1130.

I almost punched a client that day. He was driving me crazy with his “two seconds!” “one minute!” “three more minutes!”. Look, I understand that you have a mental illness BUT NARCISSIM IS NOT SOMETHING WE DEAL WITH HERE!!! Everything was about him and how things weren’t being done right for him. Ugh. Then, as it’s 1124 and I have six minutes to make a 15 minute drive, he wants to have a discussion about my name and its meanings!!! So I broke a few speed limits and arrived for the 1130 appointment at 1140.

Everything was going to be better because we were going to lunch and I was getting Chinese dumplings! Yay! What? You want to go to… McDonald’s? Fuck. Fine. Get in the car.

Then my milkshake hurt my tummy, but that’s nothing. Last client of the day, we’re having a great time, I’m relaxing, she’s doing pretty well for her. We have to go back to Radio Shack for the second time that day to exchange something. Halfway through this, the employee leans over and in a stage whisper, in front of my client says, “Ummm… your fly is unzipped.”

SHIT! I handle it, saying “Whoops, that’s an issue,” and fixing it, thinking to myself thank GOD today was an underwear day! because these are not pants that pull “fly down” with grace and quiet dignity. Also, why didn’t this guy tell me before? Or my client? Or the many other people I interacted with since my last bathroom break? Thankfully, it was eventually addressed so the number of people who got to admire my new stripy boyshorts was mercifully minimized.

So how was this day saved without me hitting my head and being a giant whiner? (Obviously I failed at not being a giant whiner…) The Boyfriend declared that since dinner plans had fallen through and I didn’t get Chinese for lunch, we should have it for dinner.

So we did. And it was glorious. Yes, Gentle Readers, I did finally get my goddamn dumplings and while the outside was yummy, but not the yummiest, the inside was SCRUMPTIOUS! Understand that my dumpling eating usually involves me taking a few tiny bites of the inside meat and flicking the rest away. It also involves my mother twitching and swearing when I do this. So when I say I ate the ENTIRE dumpling, it is a major thing. Majorly delicious.

And thus, we end this outrageously long post on a high note. Thank the Dumpling Gods.

TMI Thursday. On Tuesday!

So who’s ready for some TMI Tuesday? Because I’m too bored to wait for Thursday and I always lose my blog idea before I write it down. THAT”S the real reason this doesn’t get updated regularly, not because of my crippling laziness. Really. Shut up.

Fun Fact: I get canker sores like some people get pregnant. Often and with terrible results. (That was offensive. Switch it to “like some people abducted… much better.) Seriously, I get them all the time, usually in multiples and this has happened as far back as I can remember. I am what some people like to refer to as a “hot mess”. Or just super gross, whatever, you know you want to date me.

Luckily, a canker sore is NOT contagious. Unlike a cold sore, which looks like a massive pimple that someone punched and then sandpapered. Those are contagious, as I found out in my Catholic school religion class when they went over STDs and I found out THAT YOU COULD GET ONE WITHOUT EVER HAVING SEX!!* Apparently, you can just touch the cold sore, touch your bathing suit area and BAM you have herpes. Color me totally freaked out and imagining myself with every disease ever and none of the fun to go along with it. Stupid religion class. Ignore the fact that I’ve never had a cold sore, by god I still had the diseases. And the lack of sex.

SO, while it’s not contagious, it is still a cesspool of nasty, ugly pain that makes regular activities difficult and sometimes impossible. Eating? Better hope you can chew on one side! And that your canker sores stuck to one side. Even kissing hurts (although who wants to kiss someone with mouth sores? I’m grossed out and it’s me!) and I love kissing, so that sucks.

However, they have gotten fewer and farther between as I’ve aged. I remember the worst time was when I jumped into a highly chlorinated pool and got a fucking ring of them around the inside of my lips. Yeah. I also have no clue why the chlorine did that to me. So, that pretty much meant that eating, laughing, smiling, and anything enjoyable was out. Did I mention I was on vacation when this happened, so laughing, smiling, and eating were supposed to be in abundance? Vacation Fail.

So why did I give you this disgusting story? Because I have one currently that nearly ruined my beef stew and I’d pout about it, but pouting hurts too. And as the Philosopher knows, I love sharing horrible, gross stuff. P.S. Philosopher, to make up for this, I recently found out there is E.T. porn. Yes, I am having nightmares while awake. Did that make up for this story? You’re welcome.

*Actually true, despite being told to me by a Catholic school. Horrifying, isn’t it?

In Which I Cry and Ingore People Who Tell Me it’s Fine.

Russia’s not coming today. Why? Because there was a giant lack of communication during transport. So starting the third week since he was adopted and he’s not here yet. I was told maybe sometime this week, she’d let me know. The transporter who couldn’t be bothered to call my friend (who was trying to help save 15 dogs) until 11 at night, after contacting me at five, making it too late for him to go.

Forgive me if I’m upset and lack confidence in anything to do with this right now. I’m sorry if I’m totally over reacting. I just want my dog.

I can never adopt a child. If I can’t pull off three weeks and a few disappointments, I’d never survive adopting a human baby.

For Sammy

I was hoping my next post was going to be happy. Then last night happened. No, no, I’m fine, my relationship is fine, and my assorted animals (including a new betta because I need a support program) are fine with the exception of a goldfish that has bubbles. Not as cute as it sounds, also more deadly then it sounds, but he’s being treated.

No, this is a story about a dog. If you’re eating or faint of heart, seriously skip this and come back for the next update.

My friend helps run a rescue organization I support when I can that rescues dogs from high kill shelters down south, puppy mills, and surrenders. Basically if there is a dog no one else will take and he or she needs help, Help Save One is there, breaking the bank to do what they can for that dog. I get my heart broken constantly on Urgents page, but last night I skipped over to the Pawsitive (gag) Causes after the Boyfriend once again denied my plea for one of the Rottweiler/Red Doberman puppies.

That’s where I saw Sammy. Sammy is this big, beautiful, tawny dog, who was a stray that a family was feeding. Then Sammy went missing for two days. When he returned, it looked like someone had taken his eyes and ripped them out, replacing them with smashed plums. Someone had tortured this animal, either beating him so badly around his head that his eyes swelled and popped or they had been punctured. Yet, even with all that damage, he made it back to the house that was feeding him.

I couldn’t help it. I immediately burst into tears seeing the pictures of him. The Boyfriend came back to find me like this and just held me while I explained. Oh god, even now the thought of it is making me a little teary. Who could do that? Why would they do that? I know, I know, there are so many fucked up, awful reasons, but STILL!

Instead of just putting him down like almost anyone would, Help Save One is working with them to give Sammy a better life. His eyes had to be removed, there was nothing really there to save. But he’s alive, he has his nose, and hopefully he will find the love he deserves in a permanent home.

I’m sorry to talk about something so awful, but I couldn’t keep Sammy to myself. I think places like Help Save One are wonderful, something that helps me keep from despairing over humanity that could do something like this to an animal, or anything. For every miserable piece of shit out there, there are more people working to make it better.

They are actively searching for the person or people who hurt Sammy. I want them to die painfully, but I think the Boyfriend has a better wish – he hopes they live painfully, with someone taking their eyes.

Help Save One is an great organization and if you have an extra dollar, or a moment to click a vote button, I highly recommend you do so. All the Sammys deserve a chance. And if you’re looking for a new addition to your life, they’ve also reduced a lot of their adoption fees. The site is here.

Update: I have wonderful news. The foster family that took Sammy in loved him so much they’re adopting him. He’s adjusted really well to not having eyes and is living that happy, loving life he deserves.

Social Studies

So first I got a livejournal. It was high school, everyone did it. Good way to bitch about my little sister and not so subtlety talk about my secret loves. I was so smooth. Really though, my lj had very little of the drama wank everyone talks about.

Then I was going to go to college. I have to find out about who I’ll be living with, right? Find classmates and potential friends, right? So on to Facebook! YAY! That was good times. Still is, when I think about it.

Then I started betraying my beliefs (silly as they may be). I was never going to be part of that sparkle obsessed, crappy music blaring, blinking monstrosity that was MySpace. Fuck that noise. Oh wait… Love has a MySpace and posts quizzes that are fun to read and occasionally contain tidbits about me that make me sigh and smile because GODDAMN AREN’T WE ADORABLE?! Shit, it’s private? Oh, it doesn’t have to blink? I guess I’ll sign up then! Hi, everyone! (I should mention that shortly after I got on there, Love had to start ignoring his… thanks, dear!)

Things mellowed out for awhile. Shaba said I should start a blog and I replied with a well thought response of “meh”. But she started the wheels turning and I started thinking about all the things I would say if I didn’t have to worry about crushing feelings on livejournal or having people up in arms. A blog that I didn’t advertise to all my friends sounded pretty good. It took two weeks to get my name, but whatever.

Then, there was all this news about Twitter. “That’s silly,” I said to myself. “I talk to my friends now and if I really want to, I can go read people’s Twitters.” Then I got bored. And Love joined. And a good portion of college friends were on. And Shaba made hers Friends Only. Fuck, alright. I joined. Actually, it turned out well. I’m loving Twitter. Most of time. When my friends aren’t totally ridiculous and I have the buzzing in my pocket in a meeting (hush, you, silence isn’t for my phone). Twitter is great way to casually stalk them without actually being NEPA. Yes, that is as creepy as it sounds. Hope your shower is warm enough, Sher!

But now I’m thinking of joining Tumblr. Why? Because everyone’s is so pretty! I wanna be pretty! But seriously… how many social media outlets can one girl really use without being ridiculous? Because the next step is Flickr and dammit, I can’t find my camera…

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