On the Way Down...
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: Counting Crows, Counting Crows, and MORE Counting Crows
So I've been gone awhile from my regular posting duties to the general public. FUCK YOU.
No, I kid. I love everyone.
I haven't picked up the blogophone in a while because of several reasons, which I will now cover in exhausting detail because it's 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep because there's a huge windstorm brewing outside.
My last entry? Was babbling ass-chowder. I was awake for 27 hours straight, and was cleaning for at least 20 of them. I was a fucking MANIAC. The carpets were cleaned, prompting a no-shoes rule effective THAT VERY SECOND. The slipcovers were pulled down and straightened and tucked, prompting a no-sit rule THAT VERY INSTANT. I scrubbed and bleached and scoured and sprayed and vacuumed and washed and basically FREAKED OUT for 27 hours. I cried hysterically twice. I think I tried to kill the hub-unit once, and snapped at him like a crazed fishwife CONSTANTLY. The house had to be PERFECT when my mom walked in. At least for the first twenty minutes or so, then I was probably going to take a shit in the middle of the living room floor and smear it on the walls once she saw what a good non-employed at-home-all-day housewife I was. But I digress. By the time I got around to posting that last entry, I was delirious and shaking from lack of sleep, and still yet the house was not clean. A two-bedroom apartment, and I was freaking out so bad the hub-unit thought he was going to have to institutionalize me before my mom even showed up. Finally? House got clean to my insane requirements.
Then Mom comes. I love my mom, I really do, but WTF happened to her over the last year I cannot comprehend in the SLIGHTEST. We're in Seattle, right? Picking up the mom. So we figure we can go to Pike Place Market and walk around for a while, since her plane landed around 11:30 am and we'd been up since six anyway, so why not just exhaust ourselves completely?
My mother talks to everyone. EVERYONE. She even flirts with the 26 year-old hottie at the fish stall.
As everyone on the planet EXCEPT my mother seems to know, I am not a people person. If I am in a group of people and there are TWO people I don't know, I develop instant hermit-crabbyness and must sit in the corner like a goober until it's time to go. I may be an excellent, nay, a FANTASTIC storyteller, but talking to strangers in the fish market? Not a fucking CHANCE. My mom states clearly and lucidly to me and the hub-unit that she can "talk to anyone". GOODY. And she shows off this amazing people-person talent every chance she gets, effectively making me the most awkward-feeling and uncomfortable person on the planet. Good start so far. We go home and stay up until one AM, when my mother tells me that she can no longer sleep without taking at least two Tylenol PMs. Great, now she's a freaking addict.
Hilarity ensues.
EVERY DAY she must go somewhere. She must walk. She must MOVE, which is a new thing since last year's visit where she was content sitting in a chair and reading. We were out EVERY DAY, doing something. Even if it was just going to the grocery store and Wal-Mart, we were out for HOURS.
I have no problems with road trips. The hub-unit and I make it a point every two weeks to go somewhere and experience the world, blah blah blah. But every day? We are fairly active, but we're not THAT active.
And there's my broken-ass self. I can walk for maybe two hours before my fucked up knees and back and hips start to ache just enough for me to start breathing funny and get somewhat crabby. Only somewhat, it's not like I turn into superbitch or anything. So about two hours into our four-hour walking tours of EVERYWHERE, I start to lag behind a wee bit. The hub-unit notices, but doesn't say anything until that night in bed, which is damn near every night. My mother, bless her heart, attributes my fucked-upedness to being fat, despite my protestations that I've had bad legs and knees and hips since grade school. Nope, it's cuz I'm the size of a fucking BARN. And that's why she won't buy me anything with horizontal stripes. Moving on.
Thanksgiving went extremely well, despite the fact that two days before we found out that somehow all of our money disappeared and we were BROKE with no money to buy food or anything else for that matter with at least a week left before payday. We had to get another loan, which my mom wouldn't let me forget the rest of her trip despite the fact that it only added ten dollars more a month to the payments of our current loan, which we could easily cover because for the most part we are FINANCIALLY ASTUTE.
And she does that crazy mom thing where she complains but it doesn't sound like complaining it sounds more like a statement of fact. Kind of like well DUH Queenie of COURSE she hates her job and she doesn't have a boyfriend and she had to sell the house and she has to work for the rest of her life until she DIES because no one will ever love her again and she'll have to rent for the rest of her life because everything is SO HARD and her life is OVER.
These thinly-veiled emotional owies sent me into a tailspin of bedtime sobbings. ALL I WANTED, goddammit, was for her to come visit and have a good time and a family Thanksgiving, and even then there's always something. I blamed myself a LOT.
Every night, there was a lot of whispered talkings between me and the hub-unit, and add that to the fact that we were out EVERY DAY and exhausted, things started turning sour for us. We fought bunches those last few days, ripping into each other because of lack of sleep and my nocturnal weepies that were NOT WERE NOT my fault.
So, in essence, after mom left we needed a vacation from our vacation. I've been keeping up with everyone else's postings, but I myself have not written so much as a comment. As it stands now, I can't sleep at night so I wake the unit up to go to work and then sleep all day. NOT conducive to baking Christmas cookies, I'll tell you that much.
But other than the painful insomnia, I'm okay now. Things are just now getting back to normal, and I never realized how much I appreciated my ridiculously boring life until now.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Mood:  caffeinated
I will be brief.
My mother arrives tomorrow, so I have NO IDEA when I will be able to post next. So if yall don't see anything in the next few days, it is because I am immersed in Mommy-type goodness. However. I will begin posting again after the 29th.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Did I mention I fucked up? I thought that her plane was arriving at 11:35 AM, so we planned around that. Turns out? She is arriving at 9:35, and now we have to wake up at FIVE IN THE MORNING to beat Seattle traffic.
Also? Have not slept since 3 PM yesterday. Am cranky.
But I need a clean and spotless and febreezed house first.

Another Late Night
Now Playing: Flowerstand Man, Faithless and Dido
But I am feeling better. Anxiety, it seems, has never been one of my strong points. Grace under pressure? DON'T fucking think so.
Before I retire, I found some great things that everyone should check out, because I said so and they're really neat:
The Dionaea House
Why? Because it's AWESOME. Trust me on this, have I ever steered you wrong?
God's Journal
Why? Because I NEED a good laugh nowadays, and I'm fairly sure that any open-minded person does too.
Ted the Caver
Why? Because I am a sucker for a creepy maybe/maybe not story.
Jack
Why? Because it's a strange, wonderful online comic about love and desperation and sin and redemption and all that crazy shit. I can NOT pimp this thing out any more than I already have, but if I could I would. I myself am over-emotional, but I cried a LOT for the little animals. NOT for the easily affronted. Seriously. It's for grown-ups, people.
And now I'm off to surf more.

Currently Bizzing in My Brain
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Perfect Blue Buildings, Counting Crows
Having a panic attack. Everyone keeps telling me that things will be fine, and I know this. Hell, I UNDERSTAND this. However, this does not stop the fact that all of a sudden (well, the past few days), I have gotten progressively worse. As I type now, it is late at night, after midnight anyway, and my hands are shaking and my mouth is dry for no fucking reason, and while I have the music cranked up to drum-shattering decibels, I can feel the wind outside rattling my bones and brain.
In the past few days, I've gotten louder, as if the world couldn't hear me already as well as the poor shmucks next to me. I'm talking at an almost constant clip, like if I stop something will happen or worse, not happen.
The reason i bring up this painful revisitation of my ever-surprising symptoms is because I have noticed that while I've kept this blog, I can almost chart my crashes and spins. I always thought that my panic attacks were few and far between, and it looks to me like I was wrong. Or maybe it's just because a "panic attack", to me, involves the rocking in a corner of a room and insomnia lasting for more than two days and the slamming of my fists into cinderblock walls. The smaller jitters and jives happen ALL THE TIME.
It's times like these, these things I remember and things I forget, that I almost consider taking up the VA on that offer of free medication and therapy. Almost.
I mean, if I can live a life that appears normal, I can't be that bad off, can I? If I can function pretty damn close to normally I can't need THAT much medical attention, right?
I can't tell my hub-unit these things, because he worries enough about me as it is. SO I write them down, and hope against hope that no one notices the contrast in moods and I can soak in the shower for a while and it will all go away.
I hope.

Duh
Now Playing: American Jesus, Bad Religion
Right, I forgot about the news!
So the BBF and her husband are all fershnickety about where they're going to end up because of Navy stuff, orders and schools and whatnot. Her husband got picked up for HM school, which means he'll be leaving soon to go learn how to work at a hospital. This is good. However, unless he does SUPER well in school and gets to pick where he wants to go, he may get sent somewhere really far away, leaving his wife and their two kids in FL. The BBF got orders to stay in FL, which is good because having to move two kids by yourself while the hubby's away at school could suck.
Thing is, her orders to stay in FL got cancelled, because she also got picked up for HM school, believe it or not. This complicates matters more, because she may go the same time as him, or she may go a month or two after him, but either way it leaves the kids high and dry. Well, not abandoned, but they will be living with gramma and grandpa, which kind of but not really puts a strain on everyone involved.
But the big news is that they are both going to schools because the Navy finds them both such outstanding sailors that they will pay for the both of them to be retrained.
I'm pretty sure this is a good thing. However, I may cry if my bed bud on the planet gets stationed in spain or something.
You know, this seemed like better news when I got it....

Duh
Now Playing: American Jesus, Bad Religion
Right, I forgot about the news!
So the BBF and her husband are all fershnickety about where they're going to end up because of Navy stuff, orders and schools and whatnot. Her husband got picked up for HM school, which means he'll be leaving soon to go learn how to work at a hospital. This is good. However, unless he does SUPER well in school and gets to pick where he wants to go, he may get sent somewhere really far away, leaving his wife and their two kids in FL. The BBF got orders to stay in FL, which is good because having to move two kids by yourself while the hubby's away at school could suck.
Thing is, her orders to stay in FL got cancelled, because she also got picked up for HM school, believe it or not. This complicates matters more, because she may go the same time as him, or she may go a month or two after him, but either way it leaves the kids high and dry. Well, not abandoned, but they will be living with gramma and grandpa, which kind of but not really puts a strain on everyone involved.
But the big news is that they are both going to schools because the Navy finds them both such outstanding sailors that they will pay for the both of them to be retrained.
I'm pretty sure this is a good thing. However, I may cry if my bed bud on the planet gets stationed in spain or something.
You know, this seemed like better news when I got it....

Breathing Deeply Now...
Mood:  a-ok
Sorry, my computer was all kerflooey last night and I had to do a system restore and I was VERY VERY upset.
Better yet, I totally lost my mind and BlogExplosion is supposed to be checking out my site. There goes a violation of the profanity rule. Bah...
I'm gonna post later tonight. I have news!

Mood:  on fire
THIS IS TO THE ASSHOLE WHO THINKS THAT FUCKING WITH OTHER PEOPLE'S COMPUTERS IS A GREAT WAY TO GET NOTICED BY MICROSOFT IF I EVER GET MY HANDS ON THE FUCKRAG WHO DESIGNED THAT DAMN VIRUS I WILL GO TO YOUR HOUSE AND SMASH MY FIST THROUGH YOUR ALIENWARE MONITOR AND USE THE GLASS TO CUT YOUR BALLS OFF AND SHOVE THEM IN YOUR CD DRIVE AND PULP YOUR FUCKING STUPID HEAD WITH YOUR KEYBOARD AND SHOVE YOUR MOUSE SO FAR UP YOU ASS YOU'LL HAVE TO PUNCH YOURSELF IN THE STOMACH TO CHECK YOUR FUCKING EMAIL AND THEN WE'LL SEE IF YOU CAN DESIGN ANOTHER FUCKING TROJAN HORSE VIRUS THAT FUCKS WITH PEOPLE WHO ONLY HAVE THEIR COMPUTER TO INTERACT WITH THE REAL OUTSIDE WORLD YOU IRRESPONSIBLE ASSHAT DICKWEED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, I feel better.

Today's Real Post
Mood:  energetic
Now Playing: Wig In A Box, Hedwig and the Angry Inch
Talking to my old girl wasn't as weird as I thought it would be, but it brought up a lot of stuff about high school that I would have preferred to let stay dead and rotting, especially now that I'm a different person. It's funny how regret seems to creep up on you when you think about certain things....
In high school, I totally wasted four years. I was more concerned about fitting in, about having a niche somewhere, about being cool. I was a shitty student. I know that hindsight is 20/20, and boy is it every for me.
I didn't know who I was, and it's taken me until just a few years ago to realize that part.
High school was ridiculous for me. I tried to be everyone BUT me, and because of that I was more image-obsessed than anything else, and I never paid attention to real friendships or staying true to myself, all that crap that I should have been doing.
I hung out with the goth girls for a while, but they told me to get lost because I talked too much. I hung out with the losers, but they graduated before me so I never saw them until the weekends. I hung out with the older, hotter senior guys that all the girls were swooning for because they were musicians with long hair, but that turned into so much crazy drama (SOOOOO MUCH) that I had to get out because I thought I would lose my mind trying to be so fucking sensitive to everyone's needs and shit. I hung out with the younger happy people for a time, but they were all fickle assholes that ended up turning to my ex-boyfriend when we broke up because his new girlfriend was "sweet". And to them? THanks guys, I appreciate all the IGNORING me you did when I was preganant and puking in the coffee shop bathroom every three minutes, and I really love yall for telling me I was an idiot for joining the Navy. Thanks for all the fucking SUPPORT all those years you tolerated me. I hate those perky folks. I ended hanging out with the losers on the weekends, the skaters after school, and during the school day I was sequestered in a deserted hallway with the people who turned out were my better friends.
Like I said, I tried to desperately fit in with someone, anyone. High school was hell for me.
See, now if back then I had known I was Bipolar instead of just the oft-diagnosed ADD, I may have dealt with things differently. Had I realized that people were cruel and would be my entire life, I wouldn't have thrown away four years of my life trying to make them happy.
When all my own personal drama started a few years ago, I realized that life was too short and far too precious to deal with stupid people. Trying to placate every single jackass that came along was too draining, too energy-sucking to be right, and I stopped. If you were a friend, you were a friend. If you gave me a bad impression in the first, we'll say ten seconds to be safe, I would write you off as an idiot and not waste my time trying to be your friend. This extremely prejudicial outlook saved me a lot of grief in the long run, and amazingly enough endeared me to a lot of people.
I hold to this philosophy even now, becuase there are some really stupid people out there.
I just didn't give a fuck. I don't give a fuck now, and I shouldn't have then, either.
Lessons learned, I suppose.

Weird Stories From Classmates.Com
Now Playing: One More Night, Phill Collins
Two things about classmates, and then I'll get to the REAL post:
A few years ago, it was somewhere in '02 I think, I get an email from Classmates, telling me I have an email from some yutz I used to know. Turns out, I DO remember this particular person. I used to work at a comic book store (yeah yeah, make your silly jokes), and I was just 14 at the time. Hey, it supported my extreme comic habit, and I made shit for money, but it was something to do right? Anyway, there was this guy that worked there, a college student named Dave, who was the coolest. He was wordly and educated, with a car and a girlfriend and his own apartment and everything. We practically ran the place ourselves, but that's another post entirely.
The comic book store closed after I had worked there for two years, and after that I heard nothing from Dave, because you know he was a college student and stuff. But in 02 I get this email from him, telling me he had to pay 35 bucks for a freaking membership just to write one email. Awww....
Turns out he was a bigwig computer programmer, and he was working in Issaquah, which is kinda far from where I am, but not a like a day trip or anything. We hooked up. It was COOL. We went out to sushi and talked about what had been going on in like the last SEVEN YEARS. But anyway, we talked for a while, and he went back to Issaquah and we kept in touch for a while and then we both dropped off the planet again. I expect another email from him sometime in 2009.
Onward to my point:
Yesterday I get another message from Classmates, where I NEVER go because high school was a wasteland of abuse for me, from one of my actual FRIENDS. The last time I saw her, she was preganant with a kid and her boyfriend was this skinny, greasy little geek blessed with the unfortunate name of Marrison Scroggins, I believe.
Just outta nowhere, there she is. I had instant flashbacks of a stranger time, and we sent a couple of emails back and forth, and it looks like we'll be talking for a while. She's got two kids now, and the oldest is six years, which means its been at LEAST that long since I've seen her, and she's been married for four and living in Reno NV. RENO? SO jealous. And she has a job. Even MORE jealous.
But here's my point: Classmates.com has yet to yield any normal, run-of-the-mill stuff for me. It's always like crazy, people I haven't heard from in fucking YEARS stuff. Not that I'm complaining, it's just that I figured that once I left High School no one would remember me but as "that terminal fucking weird geek that no one likes".
Apparently, I was wrong.