Meth-Heads and Sirens

Almost everyday I think about how convenient it is to live in a bustling downtown location.  Good food is all around, favorite dive bar is an easy walk and people watching is plentiful and entertaining.  It is only at night when the sleep I am urging to arrive flits at the edges of the bed and is scared away by the noises of a city that I review on the cons of urban living.  The freight trains come through town every hour or so and blast their horns at intersections.  I can usually block it out, but lately I seem to intuitively sense its nearness and wake up just in time (assuming I was ever asleep in the first place) to grit my teeth at the long whistles.  Last night no less than six emergency vehicles roared passed our house filling our bedroom with flashing lights and sirens on full blast.  Tonight I was treated to the serenading voices of a couple of crackies arguing about complete and utter nonsense.  They stumbled and skittered down the ally yelling obscenities only pausing so that one of them could hack up dinner, or a hairball.  Who knows.  

I have read stories about city-dwellers who visit the country or seaside and miss the rambunctious cacophony so much the relative quietness actually disrupts their sleep.  I have no concept of what that is like.  I have been thinking more and more of a very quiet vacation on the shore mostly because I crave the soft sounds that come with small vacation towns.  A car or two.  Wafting voices from a midnight stroll on the sand.  And the sea.  The sea. The sea.

A vacation is no where in the cards for me, but even just remembering the nights I have had in years past brings a bit of comfort.  I am fairly convinced there is nothing like falling asleep with the salt still clinging to your hair, your muscles tired from walking and jumping waves and the gentle throb of muscle memory convincing your tuckered out body that the waves are rocking you to sleep.  

Wistfully, I will reach for my earplugs and daydream about sandy locales until it turns into a visit from the sandman and real dreams come to take me away.  

Teeter-Totter

1.  I easily spend 2-3 hours on the internet every day.  I have favorite blogs to read, news to catch up on and the Daily Show is well, daily and must be watched.  I don't always get that much time as there are things such as work and errands and humans that take up plenty of the hours available to me, but generally I make up for it on the weekends when I lounge on the couch drinking Lact-aid and ruffling the cats fur absentmindedly.  This leads me to question why posting regularly on my own blog poses such a challenge?  Certainly I have frequent access to it (re: hours on web) and always an abundance of ideas to write about... I think it may be an energy level issue.  It takes more energy to post than I want to expend each day.  Hell, once a week is trying my endurance.  Anylazy, I am going to aim for posting more frequently.  Just little ditties about the trivial noise in my head.  Staying committed to it may sound relatively simple I suppose, but as a manic-depressive (emphasis on the depressive) commitment to any regular, dependable activity makes me quake in my boots.  

Thankfully the intense depression I was slogging against for the last 2-3 weeks (feels like months) has lifted and I am hoping I can enjoy a period of mid-ranging emotion.  With that comes the desire to engage in activities that I previously found entertaining.  And yes, I did steal that phrase from all the generic depression symptom quizzes out there (i.e. In the past month have you experienced any of the following?)  

2.  Halloween is coming up and I am going to have to rely on an oldy, but a a goody.  Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction, complete with syringe in chest and bloody nose.  Don't snort heroin kiddies!!  I would love to go more exciting and unique this year, but budgetary concerns (damn recession) limit my options to what I have already in my closet.  And yes, I have fake blood and a plastic dental syringe on hand.  Any good ex-theatre geek does.  Goddamn, I said goddamn!

  

3.  Cat Puke.  AM and I have found more cat puke in the last week in our house than ever before.  And as one of our cats has bulimia as far as I can tell, this frequency was really pushing it.  Turns out Elton John got into some chicken bones and ATE THEM ALL.  They were coming up for days.  He even yakked on AM's Playstation and controller.  Kiki Dee kept doing what she always does which is get separation anxiety from her food and scarf it down so quickly that she forgets to chew and promptly regurgitates it all up in front of her, wherever she is in the house.  Binge and purge surprises.  

4.  Fro-Yo.  Yogurt is the one dairy product I can eat without regretting later.  Something to do with the active-enzymes or some shit.  I don't really know why.  I do know that I am grateful, because what is a girl supposed to eat when she gets a wicked craving for chocolate ice-cream?  I know better than to eat ice-cream now.  I went through a brief denial phase, but bathroom trips don't lie.  Also, the whole trying to eat healthy, lose weight and feel better about myself program discourages chocolate sunday extravaganzas.  Enter fro-yo.  Specifically "Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie."  Holy-moley people, it is tasty.  And it is remarkably good for you.  5 spoonfuls and I am in dessert heaven mentally and with no discernible guilt hanging over me.  Huzzah!

5.  Our neighbor has been playing his acoustic guitar a fair amount today.  That would be just fine by me if he knew more than one song.  The one song on repeat (complete with waving tones, inconsistent beat and wrong notes)?  Wish you were here - Pink Floyd.  No, actually I don't wish you were here.  You know why?  I like you too much to submit you to this song that never ends.  

Attire of the Night

I just crawled out of bed to refill my water glass and caught a glance at myself in the bathroom mirror.  I stood mouth slack and head slightly tilted in confusion.  did a 3 year dress me?   I have miss-matched socks on to insure the copious amount of lotion I slathered on my feet earlier continues it moisturizing enterprise.  I also have a wife beater and a scarf on.  that it is.  

Now, I am not trying to encourage inappropriate images, but I found the sheer ridiculousness of this situation warranted sharing.  Does this happen to anyone else?  I feel certain it must.  

The Essential Piffle

It has been much too long between postings and for that I am sorry.  As similar to the time before, I have an overabundance of items/opinions/pictures/questions to present.  It is going to run the gamete.  

1.  High Art v Low Art:  I am a bit of a snob when it comes to the realm of the aesthetic.  I have used words like "derivative" and "insipid" about the things I don't like and "expansive" and "primal" as compliments.  I came across the question of what qualifies as High Art and what as Low Art when I saw the following pictures:

GASP! "delicate, joyful, subtle"

And this one!

"Bold, whimsical, a saucy take on a oft seen staunch print"

I say, High Art.  Done before, to be sure, but approached with a lightness of spirit and the exacting touch of reverence to the well respected wall prints.  Bravo.

And then we come to this:

Kendra Wilkenson as a painted lady for a playboy party.  Swaroski crystals and a vapid stare.  

And we simply cannot overlook the bold political statement these triplets are making in this year that each vote will matter.  

So, is there a line about naked body painting?  I've done it (in a private manner.  Very memorable sheets, even more memorable shower.  Paint can get up into some PLACES.  Too much, huh?)  When is it artsy-fartsy, when is it lurid, when is it all in good fun (i.e. naked bikers at the solstice festival)?  I don't know.  I just know I display my patriotism and my goodies in a much different manner.

2. The following picture I simply adore.  Yes, it places all it bets on me being a sentimental, forever romantic who has watched "love actually" well over 10 times.  Ding, ding, ding!!! we Have a winer!  Just look and try not to say a mental "aww"  Nothing like infatuation to get a heart a pounding.

3.  Starting Therapy again!  Don't worry I am not going to spill all my details here, but I did want to give myself a pat on the back in a semi-public way.  This blog was initially going to follow my experience from diagnosis to meds, to therapy and life-changes.  I of course got distracted by pretty pictures and other blogs that address the issues of mental health with greater finesse, research based opinions and dedication to those sharing the experience with them.  I prefer the flighty route that stops off in Munich for a couple of beers before taversing into Venice, dabbling in Freudian theory splitting off with Jung for a quick trip east to consider the true ramifications of the collective unconscious and settling back into my shrink's well appointed office to analyze just why I am so Pop-Eye like (I yam watta I yam).  For a moment of seriousness, I will be working through some very heavy stuff and the way I look at it is if I can heal over some things and share that experience with some who are in the midst of a similar struggle than I know no other greatness I can achieve.  So to start:  Family stuff?  Check!  History of cutting? Check!  Rape? Check!  

That should keep us busy for a few years, I figure.  Good thing my coverage allows me as many visits to see my shrink as I want in a calendar year.  That Bi-Polar diagnosis is good for something!

4.  I am painting again.  If I like what I do I will post shoddily taken photos of them here.  

5.  AM and I are going to form a band.  Between the two of us we can come up with million song titles and band names, but I want your input.   The basic theme is all genres all the time.  especially the campy ones and ones we can make fun of.  I want a tuba as our baseline.  My suggestion to be called "the Pretend-Doors" and only sing the Pretenders and the Doors songs hit the creative wall as we what to branch all over the place.  I still want to pursue that project, but at a later date.  I swear if someone steal this idea from me I will find them, cut open their chest cavity, break open their ribcage with my bare hands, reach in and box their lungs until they suffocate, drowning in their own blood.  I ain't playin!11!! 

Anyway.  Good Ideas?  Please share.  As in comment.  

6. The Yellow Submarine

Does too much need to be said?  I think not.  It is in the top 5.  I don't own it and I wonder how this atrocity has gone on without recourse for so long...  

7.  We end with two things that have no real bearing on anything at all.  I just like them and find myself surprise.  I never really got into the owl upswing in the last kitschy brew-ha-ha.  But this little blue guy settled his feathers ever-so fussily and said absolutely nothing.  I liked him immediately.  I had the feeling if I invited him over to tea he would never leave, never talk and just follow me around the house from room to room.  I would share my sandwiches with him and one day he would alight to my shoulder and let out the softest of cooing.  

Also these bar stools:  they are delightful and I need a lot of delightful in my life right now.

More tomorrow.  maybe even an over-arching theme will be present!  I know you are excited!!

Autumnal Shade of Change

Sacramento had its first rain last Friday.  When I saw a real, big, splash-worthy raindrop I literally gasped (sounded like "EepWoop!) and the cats looked at me weird.  The trees are still mostly green and today we are back up to 86 degrees, but for a day or two, I was blissfully pulling out my sweaters and thinking about the boots I will have to buy this year to replace my falling apart ones from last year.  Oh darn.  I am thinking something along these lines:

and my favorite:

The big, daunting, I-keep-thinking-about-it-but-not-actually-doing-anything-yet project is the cleaning overhaul our place needs.  We live in a world of clutter and I cannot stand it much longer.  I want things to have places to be organized and surfaces that are not spilling over with unopened mail (eh-hem, AM!!), beauty products haphazardly strewn about (okay, that is all me) and just random shit that seems to appear from nowhere. 

I re-arranged the furniture in the bedrooms not too long ago and so the potential to make them look great is there, but it requires upkeep and neither AM or I are very good at that.  I believe we can do it though.  I am determined.  

The downstairs remains the most important area to address.  I am tired of our sad looking furniture, faded and cat-scratched beyond repair.  The dingy rugs and carpet that suck the life-force out of rooms doesn't help either.  SO!  I am declaring WAR on the house and am going to make it cozy and clean and organized for the next season.  Starting today.  

Today I am going to attack the book shelves.  Reorganize, dust and straighten.  

Crap, this is a boring post.  

Here, look at something funny:

And Something Pretty: