Phenobarbitol and Malox

Please note the following happened two days ago and I am just now able to finish what I started.  

Kiki Dee had a seizure today and I have been drinking malox straight from the bottle.  Not completely related issues but the Kitten Crisis most assuredly added to the recent gastrointestinal flare up.  Just incase I am not stressed enough about still being unemployed, clinically diagnosable as a few nut-job terms, and my keeping of the most ridiculous sleeping hours I now get to add irrational fears about the ones I love dying, or drifting slowly that direction through some degenerative nerve disorder.  

I know I get a little melodramatic about these things.  I have a lot of time to think ladies and gents.  A LOT.  

But the time at night when I am not sleeping I am continuing to work on my book in my mind.  I have to write and rewrite a chapter in the myriad of nerves and synapses before I can even think of putting it to paper or computer.  I may be a bit OCD of me and certainly not the most efficient way of putting a book together, however it is coming together.  very very slowly.   .  There is a basic arc to the book 

On the upside, this time to think has given birth to another book idea.  It will be one with occasional illustrations done by yours truly (assuming they pass my demanding eyes' test) and will be mostly in short story style.  A sort of memoir based book.  Snippets that trace some of my more humorous attempts at love, sex and the other parts of relationships I have struggled in many an embarrassing manner to comprehend, yadda yadda yadda.  If any friend suddenly appears in my words I will certainly ask permission.  much of the prose exists in my brain and from the first person perspective, but I have a few ideas that would tweak it's presentation in a way I have never seen before.  Let's say I report of a time that you as a friend were near to or a part of the ongoings.  I write my take and then before you are tainted by my view, you write yours.  And free of the fear of offending one another.  Just honest prose.  These two take on the same real life situation and demonstrate the discrepancies between memories, beliefs, perceived truths and present a multidimensional view.  I acknowledge the self-obsessive nature of such a project, but I find it intriguing as well as personally challenging.  

I am speaking as though it is written and all I am waiting for is the input of others.  Ha!  far from it.   However, once you have an idea, you feel like you have everything.  Minus the hard work.

It was at this point late in the night that Elton John (other, non-seizure cat) nudged my computer away and started kneading on my belly.  Within moment knotted up intestinal bits where happily gurgling and hinting that they may give me relief from pain enough to sleep.  EJ with his flashing eyes indicated that yes I should put my typing away and let him do his therapeutic magic.  Who was I to argue.  Just because his brain is the size of a walnut does not mean his intuitive nature is some how diminished by his overall stature and relative pia matter measurements.  He knows more than me I am fairly certain.  

It appears as if again, contrary to the meds I took to droop my eyes, I am awake.  I spent some time in bed relaxing and reading earlier, but to no avail.  so I got up, reheated my tea and set to finishing what I started.  If only the world would allow a person like me whose circadian rhythms don't match up with everybody else to be productive in the late night hours.  I get a lot done between 12 and 4am!!  Unfortunately I beg the Lord and Lady of Hours Keeping at... well inopportune times.  Oh well!  my blog is finished and I have a new one which I am super excited to post for tomorrow.  

Cue Jack Nicholson's Famous Quote...Now!

I just spent a solid hour coming up with the contents of a super-excellent blog about truth.  Its meaning beyond the facts, its malleable nature to the individual, when saying it out loud does set you free and when saying it out loud royally fucks you.  I used vivid descriptions and personal experience to illustrate my points and let me tell you it rocked.  massively.  

But I didn't write any of it down and now I am too tuckered to rehash it all.  And really the basic conundrum is the same to all of us, so I probably don't need to expound on it for anyone else sake but my own.  We all know it is subjective and we all know what is really in our heart.  the debate hinges more on right and wrong, timing and intent, joy and panic.  

Here is a picture of a device that would put me into a full blown psychotic episode. 

 

designed to illicit confessions from criminals it certainly appears daunting to me.  I am pretty sure I would confess to being a kebler elf, Erzebet Bathory, the inventor of these fine under garments:

Yep, designed to catch your farts!!!! they come with replaceable filters too!  This blog went from serious to raunch-tastic fairly quick.  WOOT!

Okay, some hopeful news

My sister (Sarah) has been studying herbology and is helping me out with my health issues A TON.  I am very grateful for this and have been enjoying the benefits of having someone who knows her shit.  If any of you out there are interested she has started up her own tea company (that will eventually expand to tinctures, lotions and other good stuff as far as I can tell).  Here is the link to her website

OlavaDawn

Check it out and if you are feeling it, buy some tea or ask her to host a tasting.  I drink the evening calming one each night now and love it.  It is all part of supporting local (she is relocating to Lopez Island), organic, community based goods and just being part of the exchange makes a person feel that much more connected and healthier.  Give it a whirl peeps!  

Funny because it's true!

Nasa scientists are saying we are all going to eat shit soon if we don't drastically change our earth raping ways in 3, 2,...

The Sacramento valley is filling with smoke from the 800 plus fires burning from the "freak lightening storms" all over.  

Iowa residents are in a constant state of "did I just piss myself in fear?  I dunno, cuz I am up to my shoulders in fucking water!!"

China is too busy building Olympic arenas they will shortly after tear down (still haven't figured that one out) to address the fact that many of the most populated cities have an air quality so low it is measurably decreasing life expectancy by dramatic numbers.

Mugabe refuses to acknowledge the years of social uprising in Zimbabwe and resorts to extensive violence to quell the voice of the people who are simply asking for a chance to vote.  

I went to trader joe's today and reused my bags for the 5th time... Feeling groovy!  

End times: aka I'm f*#!ed

I have an event I want to relate to the masses (or to the three people I threaten with physical violence if they don't read my blog).  It has to do with the end of the world as we know it.  Kinda heavy stuff, so lets be appropriately prepared.  Here is a picture to help us get acquainted with the themes we are addressing:

Just take a deep breath.  We can get through this.  OR CAN WE?

Melodrama aside, the other night I couldn't sleep.  No big shocker there.  I decided to read in our guest room so as to not keep AM up with the light and my incessant shifting.  eventually around 4 in the morning I fell into a fitful sleep with the birds already chirping excitedly about building nests and other stupid bird discussion topics (the use of firearms against local fauna is a subject for another post).  I drifted off into the land of nod...

AND THEN I THOUGHT I WAS DYING!  I woke up suddenly to the sensation of the bed shaking and the noise of the house creaking.  Only halfway cognizant of what the hell was happening I of course assumed the worse.  It was an earthquake and not only that, it was probably the "big one" everyone on the west coast has been discussing for the last 50 years.  My life was ending, the world was ending, I had a few minutes left to review the meaning of my short life.  In the movies the protagonist gets to relive the more important events since their childhood to now, gain perspective and usually realize some universal truth about the purpose of our being here.  They pass with peace and or make it through the fatal shooting against all

 medical odds and lead a fuller, more self-actualized life.  As the bed shook I waited for this really awesome moment.  This is how it went down:

"oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!  shitfuckcrapmonkeyballsassmochashit!!!!!  I'm dying!  Where's my great epiphany?!"

Seriously, all I could think was "oh shit" over and over again.  And then I realized the neighbors were doing an early load of laundry and their washing machine was off balance, so when it gets to the spin cycle it rocks the whole house.  Apparently, this is particularly felt in our guest bedroom.

I am now left knowing in my dying moments the best I will probably come up with is a strained expression of fear and self-loathing on my face and expletives on my lips.  Super excited about that...

At least I didn't poop in my pajamas.  "yeah, I have an order of suck with extra embarrassment and a large drink flavored with my own excrement.  Thanks."

Said in that weird, murky, drive through voice, "that'll be your life savings at the first window.  Would you like mild, medium or hot sauce with that?"

Sometimes I think it would be beneficial if I weren't so retarded.  Maybe.

NEW WORD

Surrealliously!   it is serious+really+surreal.  How rad am I?  I know it can be hard to handle.  

Lower Frequency Functioning

A couple of things.

1.  You know how I posted about moderation and the positive direction of my life having made a conscious decision to lessen my alcohol intake?  Yeah, well just incase I was getting to high and mighty about my general, directional, universal position... Friday night started with a lovely dinner out with the Husband (referred to AM from now on fyi) and some friends.  A light aromatic glass of italian wine accompanied the best ravioli EVAR and pleasant, silly

 conversation filled the gaps between bites.  The weather was warm, but a breeze was picking up and AM agreed that we would call it an early night after he sat in with a band at the Torch Club.  Off to good start.  Then we got rowdy and somehow came to the oh-so-wise decision to close the bar down (i.e. stumbling into the cab at 2:30?), get more wine, and host a Pot Limit Omaha showdown between AM and a dear friend in our dining room until the wee hours.  I played dealer and chatterbox extraordinaire.  Much fun was had and I thought, well I am drinky as hell, but I am really enjoying this!  Maybe I have been a bit prudish (hey, I was well lubricated, so these thought seems rational at the time) about my stance on drinking.

  

And then.  I got predictably emo (briefly, but it always happens.  it is completely ridiculous) and passed out on the couch after trying to sleep upstairs.  the heat was oppressive and the hang over was already starting.  I was in for a doosey that I am recovering from a solid 24 hours later.  Pat on the back, Anna.  Well done, you total douchebag. (can woman be DB's? discuss)

The hangover included the usuals: headache, extreme exhaustion, random sweating sessions and that slight feeling of constant vertigo.  And on top of that I got: heart palpitations, panic attacks, nightmares when I slept and my personal favorite, late onset nausea.  It hits about 12-14 hours into the day, just as you think you are out of the woods.  I kept food down miraculously and have been feeling like a dog with it tail between its legs, pedestal knocked down, bubble burst since (and any other applicable cliched phraseology to imply that I am duly humbled).

It is not the end of the world, though it felt like it at times yesterday.  However, I am pissed about getting pissed.  All this functioning like a real adult is mother-fucking hard.  One slip-up and I am reminded that lessons need to be learned.  Perhaps there is some karmic implications?  It solidifies that events may have more meaning than I attribute them and really how the hell am I supposed to tell the difference anyway!?  Grrrr.  Attempting to define my idea of life and belief or lack there of in "more" while hungover is not advised, but I can't help it.  If only there was a pause button for the mind.

2.  I had something really good for #2 and now that I have ranted about #1 I can't remember it.  Suck!  Let's just pretend that I wrote something lighthearted and funny.  Here is a FUN LINK.  I will take credit for any enjoyment procured from it.  okay, that's a lie.  A friend told me about it.   

3.  Kiki Dee:  she may developing a new magical dreadlock just in time for summer!  Good omen?  I think so!  She also pooped out a piece of plastic today.  It was completely gross.  I also don't know how she managed to eat the plastic wrapper... the applied physics in this scenario has me baffled.  

4.  

Mod-Podge addiction

The first step is admitting you have a problem.  Well I refuse to do so at this point, but I am starting to have suspicions that decoupaging contains some sort of addictive quality.  I see plain surfaces and suddenly am filled with images of magazine cut-outs and wallpaper samples all artfully juxtaposed in a funky, yet highly accessible manner.  WTF!  Since when did I become Rosie Odonnell and Martha?  

Remember when Rosie had her own show and she referred to Tom Cruise as a "cutie-patootie" and had a cardboard cut out of him?  Yeah, that has only become more freaky over the years.  I digress.

I have only attacked one item in my home with the mod-podge craziness and am pretty pleased with the results actually.  But the urge is there.  A subtle, yet insatiable desire to carry a small bottle around with me and inhale the gluey fumes and slap a layer or two on items that do not even belong to me.  

I think it may be a sickness or needs to be added to the DSM-IV as a disorder of the mind.  Be careful my friends.  It is like the gateway drug of the crafting world.  I am on a slippery (or rather sticky/tacky texture) slope to getting cable just for HGTV and believing that Mid Century Modern furniture and design is the end all be all of home decor.  

MUST RESIT THE EAMES CHAIRS!

Vibrate Higher

As Andre 3000 (heart) so wisely serenaded us, "mother-fuck the wagon, come join the band."  I have been ruminating on this point for a while now.  Making a concerted effort to decrease my alcohol intake while tasting life in a fuller way.  I thought at first it would be embarrassingly difficult and that life may actually take on grayer shades.  How will I let my hair down?  What will my friends say when everyone is drinking martini's and I ask for a 7-up?  Will I change?

The answer was and is surprising to me.  To my delight I am just as loud, spontaneous and likely to dance as when I have had a few.  Further, and more importantly, my mental health has stabilized in a way I was never sure was in the cards for me.  Not that I am suddenly schizoid-free by a long shot, but things aren't as scary.  I have also found a dosage of medicine and herbal supplements that encourage less bingeing and purging of the emotion sort.  I feel more certain of myself and don't have to experience extreme highs and lows to know I am alive.  I still cry and gasp at movies, engage fully in the suspension of disbelief (a topic I want to discuss further on this blog as it develops) when reading an excellent book, I feel creative and goofy as much as ever...  the thing that is missing is that manic Anna.  the one that scared everyone, drove away from places drunk and crying, left marks on her skin and others.  It is not as though everything is suddenly tied up with a bow.  The band is hard work and somedays I am not up for it.  Those days I stay in bed, cuddle with my cats and think, think, think.  And those days are okay.  I mean, they suck a lot, but I get the distinct impression that I can, in fact make it through them without dying.  This is more than used to be people, so we're focusing on the positive.

I don't believe in god or destiny anymore.  I believe in the now.  The moment we are in is what we have.  No doubt I will go to someone's wedding and get shitty drunk on occasion, forget to take my meds, or go on a crying jag here and there.  These things happen.  Not for some existential reason, but because choices are offered and events occur.  Perhaps I am getting too zen for my britches... there is that risk during times of reflection.  

So yeah, the band.  way better than the wagon by a million miles.  

Click here for a good link to a site on depression

Susie Homemaker: part one

I would like to introduce a character to the blog.  Her name is Susie Homemaker.  We all know her from TVland reruns, kitschy retro decor and magnets, and from the collective unconscious we all share.  These are her stories.  And yes we write what we know, so Susie is part me and part illusion.  

Susie Homemaker stayed up last night finishing the laundry and writing lists.  Susie likes to write lists because she can then cross the items off as she does them.  They are proof she exist.

Today Susie Homemaker made coffee in the french press.  She bought fresh produce at the local farmer's market.  She watered her plants and wondered why the windowsill herb garden she was trying to cultivate insisted on wilting.  Was the basil sad?  Did it have feelings?  She read it a story because she heard that talking to your plants encourages them to grow.  The basil continued to droop.

Susie made a peach cobbler from scratch.  She didn't even need a recipe.  The measurements of flour, egg, butter and sugar came naturally.  Susie set the timer as the house filled with the delicious smell.  35 minutes later the buzzer went off and she peered into the oven.  Almost perfect.  Just a few more minutes.  

Susie wondered if while it cooked and she stared out the window just waiting if she was dying faster than at other times.  

The cobbler sat on the counter to cool.  Is it in bad form to drink gin at 9am she queried the basil plant.  The plant wished it could talk to Susie.  It would read her stories too.

A warning? A disclaimer? Everybody is doing it.

In starting this blog it has occurred to me that I will be discussing many personal issues ranging from home improvement projects to psychological evaluations of self and others.  It seems pretty normal to put it all out there these days.  Our passive way of asking for attention and confirmation that we exist for a reason.  My point is, I may offend.  I may divulge detailed information about my medicinal intake or rant about a family member.  If I have invited you to read, you probably know all this about me anyway, but it makes me feel better to have put the warning label on.  

Let's get ready to rumble folks!

And so the barrage of unfounded statements begins!

Let's jump right into it.  I have come across blogs I respect, adore, and check on obsessively.  I also have encountered, what to me is sub-par crapola in the guise of a blog.  I am hoping to create something that makes people feel strongly (perhaps you wretch with disgust or laugh with non-containable mirth, either is cool with me) and think and wonder about the weirdo that spends her 3 am hour tippity-typing away.  Whether it is love at first type or a nose in the air, I am pretty sure I don't mind either way.  The simple interaction of material presented and individual response is all I am looking for.  There are plenty of things I want to discuss through this blog and here is my start.  Tally-Ho!!