Today I am feeling better, specifically, better in the sense I don't feel homicidal.
I didn't want to murder anyone in particular, I just felt a bit, well, unstable.
"I wish I could have had this personality yesterday," I told Gioconda this morning.
We had a graduation lunch for her nephew yesterday, and with so many knives around I found it best for everyone's safety for me to spend the lions share of the afternoon reading the New York Times in our bedroom.
In truth I was in such a mood any interaction I would have with anyone would have ended badly, fearful this interaction could be with my in-laws, I avoided people as much as possible.
In spite of this attempt, there was conflict over a door knob-yes a door knob- earlier in the afternoon which caused my mood to further plummet. Yet this morning I woke up fine.
Since I have recollection of the entire day, I can't blame it on schizophrenia, which although a troubling diagnosis would at least be an explanation.
At 46 the reality is that I think it's hormonal.
Yet, since I come from a long line of petty and disgruntled people, its hard for me to assess the basis of my extreme moodiness.
Is my baseless temporary fury at basically everyone a result of the amount of estrogen in my body, or in my DNA?
My hope is that if it is in my DNA I will be able to medicate myself to an extent I can overcome my genetic predisposition, and I guess at that point causative factors will not really matter.
Because there are certain times I feel especially crazy, I like to think this it is something hormonal, something I can't really control.
What I find shocking...why there are not more murders committed by women in their late 40's.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Smoking Babies
I've had a pack of herbal cigarettes on my desk for the past two months. I smoked a few and gave a few away, but had at least ten left in the pack the last time I checked.
I opened the box on Friday to discover one lonely cigarette remaining. Which means, someone lifted my smokes...so it is either the housecleaner, Herminia, Gioconda, or one of the boys...everyone has denied liability...except for Herminia with whom I struggle with communication, and who in all reality is not a viable suspect.
So, it is basically Gioconda or one of three boys...right? Not so fast.
Ardi Rizal is an Indonesian child who smokes 2 packs on cigarettes a day.
His mother told the media, “He’s totally addicted. If he doesn’t get cigarettes, he gets angry and screams and batters his head against the wall. He tells me he feels dizzy and sick.”
His father said,“He cries and throws tantrums when we don’t let him smoke. He’s addicted.”
When his parents are questioned about it , they say he’s been smoking since he was 18 months old . Shockingly , his first cigarette was given to him by his own father.
On a primary level this information significantly relieved my guilt in my giving Camille with a sip of Dr. Pepper a few weeks back.
Don't get me wrong I am certainly opposed to smoking toddlers...or smoking children for that matter, but the image of this little kid smoking a cig is just kind of funny..in a really wrong way.
I can't get the girls to blow their nose, how did this father possibly get this kid to inhale?
Gioconda keeps threatening to take away the pacifiers. It has become like contraband in the house to the extent I was by myself at Target today and I contemplated buying a couple of extras to break out if I became desperate, but was afraid of getting caught.
Presently I'm allowed only a very loose grip on the few remaining pacifiers, there is no question bringing anything new into the house would cause certain reprimand.
Since my insecurities in regard to my ability to parent are exploited in those occasions I do something which is not fully endorsed by the co-parent, I didn't think I could take that type of body blow today, so I skipped the new pack of pacifiers.
Granted Gioconda does know better, still there is this huge part of me that just wants to make my life that much easier, even if it is only for this minute.
Camille and I enjoy the pacifiers the most, her for reasons I can't quite pinpoint, me because its a magic bullet , you plug it in, and the screaming stops.
But this story about the Indonesian kid got me thinking...missing cigarettes..desperate babies...fill in the blanks.
Thinking back on it I thought it odd Sadie had a Bic lighter in the dash of the Disney Princess car, but now with the missing smokes, it certainly gives one pause.
I opened the box on Friday to discover one lonely cigarette remaining. Which means, someone lifted my smokes...so it is either the housecleaner, Herminia, Gioconda, or one of the boys...everyone has denied liability...except for Herminia with whom I struggle with communication, and who in all reality is not a viable suspect.
So, it is basically Gioconda or one of three boys...right? Not so fast.
Ardi Rizal is an Indonesian child who smokes 2 packs on cigarettes a day.
His mother told the media, “He’s totally addicted. If he doesn’t get cigarettes, he gets angry and screams and batters his head against the wall. He tells me he feels dizzy and sick.”
His father said,“He cries and throws tantrums when we don’t let him smoke. He’s addicted.”
When his parents are questioned about it , they say he’s been smoking since he was 18 months old . Shockingly , his first cigarette was given to him by his own father.
On a primary level this information significantly relieved my guilt in my giving Camille with a sip of Dr. Pepper a few weeks back.
Don't get me wrong I am certainly opposed to smoking toddlers...or smoking children for that matter, but the image of this little kid smoking a cig is just kind of funny..in a really wrong way.
I can't get the girls to blow their nose, how did this father possibly get this kid to inhale?
Gioconda keeps threatening to take away the pacifiers. It has become like contraband in the house to the extent I was by myself at Target today and I contemplated buying a couple of extras to break out if I became desperate, but was afraid of getting caught.
Presently I'm allowed only a very loose grip on the few remaining pacifiers, there is no question bringing anything new into the house would cause certain reprimand.
Since my insecurities in regard to my ability to parent are exploited in those occasions I do something which is not fully endorsed by the co-parent, I didn't think I could take that type of body blow today, so I skipped the new pack of pacifiers.
Granted Gioconda does know better, still there is this huge part of me that just wants to make my life that much easier, even if it is only for this minute.
Camille and I enjoy the pacifiers the most, her for reasons I can't quite pinpoint, me because its a magic bullet , you plug it in, and the screaming stops.
But this story about the Indonesian kid got me thinking...missing cigarettes..desperate babies...fill in the blanks.
Thinking back on it I thought it odd Sadie had a Bic lighter in the dash of the Disney Princess car, but now with the missing smokes, it certainly gives one pause.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Homeless can kiss my ass
I am so done with the homeless.
With the economy I know there is a whole new phylum of homeless, those aren't the people I am pissed at...its the shopping cart filled with plastic orange juice boxes, wearing a black coat with a filthy collar on a day that is over 90 degrees, smells like piss and vomit homeless.
On Friday I stopped by Starbucks on the way to a deposition in Torrance. It's the beginning of the month, and its always tight for us, and on Friday I had $87.93 in the my checking account.
On the way out I noticed a old man practically lying on a table outside. His skin was leather, he had a shopping cart with his belongings, he was dirty but I didn't notice any overt smell. He looked pathetic and sad.
I should have kept walking, but instead I said," Hey Buddy, have you had breakfast,?"
He replied he had and then almost inaudibly told me he was dying. I had $5.00 in the wallet, not knowing what else to do, I said, " Well, maybe this will buy your lunch."
He took the money from my hand and then said," Scripture says you are not to dress as a man."
I give this fucker 5.68% of my liquid net worth and this was my thanks?
"Ok, why don't you give me the $5.00 back because I wouldn't want you to interact with someone who isn't compliant with scripture," I said and held out my hand, he just stared out me.
"You're an asshole," I said and walked off.
When I told Gioconda about later she thought it was funny. "Your taking it too personally," she said.
"Your wearing jeans, everyone to him is dressed like a man," she added, which did make sense, yet that isn't what he was saying.
I think he wanted to say something fucked up to me because he thought I was Gay, that's the real thing. He was crazy enough to say something insulting to a person handing him money, but not crazy enough to call me a dyke.
I wanted to flip him off as I drove out of the parking lot (in my Range Rover), but then thought about how that might look to someone who had no idea of our prior interaction.
I know, I am overly sensitive to these 'types' of remarks, and I know this guy is destitute and most likely mentally ill, still - really?
This guys is living his life out a push cart, and it would seems as though there may be bigger issues in his existence other than the biblical adherence of my wardrobe.
It all works out on the end, I've been meaning to cut out those little extras, so I'll keep the Starbucks and skip the handout...
With the economy I know there is a whole new phylum of homeless, those aren't the people I am pissed at...its the shopping cart filled with plastic orange juice boxes, wearing a black coat with a filthy collar on a day that is over 90 degrees, smells like piss and vomit homeless.
On Friday I stopped by Starbucks on the way to a deposition in Torrance. It's the beginning of the month, and its always tight for us, and on Friday I had $87.93 in the my checking account.
On the way out I noticed a old man practically lying on a table outside. His skin was leather, he had a shopping cart with his belongings, he was dirty but I didn't notice any overt smell. He looked pathetic and sad.
I should have kept walking, but instead I said," Hey Buddy, have you had breakfast,?"
He replied he had and then almost inaudibly told me he was dying. I had $5.00 in the wallet, not knowing what else to do, I said, " Well, maybe this will buy your lunch."
He took the money from my hand and then said," Scripture says you are not to dress as a man."
I give this fucker 5.68% of my liquid net worth and this was my thanks?
"Ok, why don't you give me the $5.00 back because I wouldn't want you to interact with someone who isn't compliant with scripture," I said and held out my hand, he just stared out me.
"You're an asshole," I said and walked off.
When I told Gioconda about later she thought it was funny. "Your taking it too personally," she said.
"Your wearing jeans, everyone to him is dressed like a man," she added, which did make sense, yet that isn't what he was saying.
I think he wanted to say something fucked up to me because he thought I was Gay, that's the real thing. He was crazy enough to say something insulting to a person handing him money, but not crazy enough to call me a dyke.
I wanted to flip him off as I drove out of the parking lot (in my Range Rover), but then thought about how that might look to someone who had no idea of our prior interaction.
I know, I am overly sensitive to these 'types' of remarks, and I know this guy is destitute and most likely mentally ill, still - really?
This guys is living his life out a push cart, and it would seems as though there may be bigger issues in his existence other than the biblical adherence of my wardrobe.
It all works out on the end, I've been meaning to cut out those little extras, so I'll keep the Starbucks and skip the handout...
Friday, May 7, 2010
Bazooka Joe and The Littlest Bird
I call Sadie The Littlest Bird...because the littlest birds sing the prettiest songs.
I call Camille Bazooka Joe...because...I so wish I had a good explanation for this, but I don't. She's just my Bazooka.
My daughters nicknames are as different as they are.
This is my second mother's day, and I am so blessed and lucky to be the mother of such delightful and beautiful little girls. My daughters have filled a space in my heart I never knew existed.
I love them both more than I ever knew was possible.
Bazooka Joe and The Little Bird...my life really began the day you came into it...you are the greatest joy of my life, you are gifts to me I'm unsure how I deserved- and I love you-love you -love you-
Mommy
I call Camille Bazooka Joe...because...I so wish I had a good explanation for this, but I don't. She's just my Bazooka.
My daughters nicknames are as different as they are.
This is my second mother's day, and I am so blessed and lucky to be the mother of such delightful and beautiful little girls. My daughters have filled a space in my heart I never knew existed.
I love them both more than I ever knew was possible.
Bazooka Joe and The Little Bird...my life really began the day you came into it...you are the greatest joy of my life, you are gifts to me I'm unsure how I deserved- and I love you-love you -love you-
Mommy
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Trish
A few weeks back I learned a friend I had known since Jr. High School had passed away last July.
Although the cause of her death was somewhat mysterious when I learned the news it appeared as though she had taken her own life.
Today I obtained confirmation, without a doubt she killed herself.
In high school my biggest involvement was drama. Although I can't really act, have no ability to either sing or dance, I was somehow able to get myself into many productions, including musicals.
I can't really recall, I must have thought I had some talent, yet upon a clearer reflection, I really didn't.
Trish could sing, she could dance, she was a great actress, and she loved the theater.
By far, the best part of drama was the friends. Misfits finding each other, we were a pretty tight tribe. I fell away from my drama friends until a two years ago when I attended a reunion for theater arts groups.
So over the last few years I have exchanged e-mails, communicated via facebook, this is how I discovered the death of our friend.
Recently with this news there are been a flurry of e-mails, everyone trying to sort it out. It has taken a prominent spot in my thoughts over the last three weeks. I can't shake it, thinking about her, thinking about her family, knowing how difficult this year has been for them.
In most of the e-mails my friends have expressed there were times in most of their lives that they suffered from depression. I have no idea if the fact we were all theater people plays into this commonality, but our drama department was pretty typical, fat girls who fell in love with Gay boys, and various derivations of this same theme.
I wasn't a fat girl, but I was sort of a Gay boy, I guess.
So now we are all e-mailing each other like its 1980, it's the processing of suicide I think, it takes a long time to get your head around it.
In truth, many of us has stood at the abyss and considered how much easier it would be to just jump. Those of us who have been so emotionally tired our bodies literally ached, understand in a bad moment we may have also made a regrettable choice.
In high school I was the school newspaper photographer. Because she was really very talented there was an article written about Trish and I got the assignment to take the picture.
I stood on top of an upright piano with her sitting at it and took a shot with her looking up at me smiling...and when I think of her that is what I see.
Although the cause of her death was somewhat mysterious when I learned the news it appeared as though she had taken her own life.
Today I obtained confirmation, without a doubt she killed herself.
In high school my biggest involvement was drama. Although I can't really act, have no ability to either sing or dance, I was somehow able to get myself into many productions, including musicals.
I can't really recall, I must have thought I had some talent, yet upon a clearer reflection, I really didn't.
Trish could sing, she could dance, she was a great actress, and she loved the theater.
By far, the best part of drama was the friends. Misfits finding each other, we were a pretty tight tribe. I fell away from my drama friends until a two years ago when I attended a reunion for theater arts groups.
So over the last few years I have exchanged e-mails, communicated via facebook, this is how I discovered the death of our friend.
Recently with this news there are been a flurry of e-mails, everyone trying to sort it out. It has taken a prominent spot in my thoughts over the last three weeks. I can't shake it, thinking about her, thinking about her family, knowing how difficult this year has been for them.
In most of the e-mails my friends have expressed there were times in most of their lives that they suffered from depression. I have no idea if the fact we were all theater people plays into this commonality, but our drama department was pretty typical, fat girls who fell in love with Gay boys, and various derivations of this same theme.
I wasn't a fat girl, but I was sort of a Gay boy, I guess.
So now we are all e-mailing each other like its 1980, it's the processing of suicide I think, it takes a long time to get your head around it.
In truth, many of us has stood at the abyss and considered how much easier it would be to just jump. Those of us who have been so emotionally tired our bodies literally ached, understand in a bad moment we may have also made a regrettable choice.
In high school I was the school newspaper photographer. Because she was really very talented there was an article written about Trish and I got the assignment to take the picture.
I stood on top of an upright piano with her sitting at it and took a shot with her looking up at me smiling...and when I think of her that is what I see.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Dog Teeth
Today I heard a radio show about animal care and the importance of brushing your pets teeth on a daily basis.
Great.
So that will burn up another 6 hours out of my work day. It got me to thinking about my animals, more specifically exactly why is it that I have so many pets...
Maybe there is something lacking in my life, something I am trying to fill. The next logical question- what exactly does this fill? A need to pick up inordinate amount of shit?
A desire to spend a good percentage of my disposable income on busy bones?
I could say I loved dogs, and that is why I have so many dogs, but that doesn't contemplate the pigs, birds, cats, rabbits and chicken.
So, I have come to this conclusion, I just like animals...it is as simple as that. Still I don't have the time to brush everyones teeth every day.
I am conducting the first oral hygiene training seminar next Tuesday.
Great.
So that will burn up another 6 hours out of my work day. It got me to thinking about my animals, more specifically exactly why is it that I have so many pets...
Maybe there is something lacking in my life, something I am trying to fill. The next logical question- what exactly does this fill? A need to pick up inordinate amount of shit?
A desire to spend a good percentage of my disposable income on busy bones?
I could say I loved dogs, and that is why I have so many dogs, but that doesn't contemplate the pigs, birds, cats, rabbits and chicken.
So, I have come to this conclusion, I just like animals...it is as simple as that. Still I don't have the time to brush everyones teeth every day.
I am conducting the first oral hygiene training seminar next Tuesday.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Facebook "Friends"
Gioconda says people like facebook because it is voyeuristic.
I think she's right. A glimpse into the life of someone you would really never have had the opportunity. Currently I have 234 "friends" on facebook; however, if I have a put together a party of 10 of my friends I'd be hard pressed.
I have blogged in the past that maybe there is a reason people drift away from high school friends, and I have personally found some of my "reconnection's" unsettling. Yet, within the primordial soup of facebook "friends" there are those few who make it worth the while.
When I encounter a random person I happened to be facebook friends with I find I like them much better. I think it's the confirmation that we have both decided to accept that fact we are indeed "friends".
Likewise, I have had two occasions in which I have had my friendship declined. In truth, I didn't care for either individual very much before I put myself out there, which oddly makes me feel vulnerable, and requested my "friendship" be "accepted", but now I carry a little bit of hate in me for each of them...yes, hate (I know, this is the basis of a multitude of my issues, actually hating someone because they didn't facebook friend me, but it is really another blog).
There was a time Gioconda and I had a little competition going on who could obtain more "friends". It was actually during this period of time I requested my two rejections, or that is what I am telling myself- it was a numbers game....
At this point she has 322, so I am almost a good 100 down. Sometime I will troll her list to see if there is anyone I can pilfer, even a distant cousin I met when her parents renewed their vows in 2007 is fair game to me. On those fringe requests I'll add a little note, "I'm not sure you remember me, I'm Giooonda's partner," and then I'll add something that will connect us.
"We both love black pugs!"
That typically does it. I haven't gone thru her list recently, and I can usually pick up at lest 10-15 people.
Although in the World of Lesbian's being friends, real friends not just "friends" with your ex is not an odd occasion, having my spouse be friends with my ex's mother was a stretch.
I have not and will not request her.
"I don't understand it, you and Denise are friends, you and Paula (Denise's partner) are friends, and I AM friends with Denise , Paula and Denise's mother, why don't you just ask her," Gioconda said.
"I can't. The relationship ended terribly," I replied.
"Clearly, everyone is over it," she said and then dropped the conversation.
For a multitude of reasons, there are just those people I can't bear to become "friends" with. The sister of a woman I dated who after she broke up with me I stalked (to the point of obtaining employment where she worked), to the guy from high school who I broke up with my best friend after he became Student Body President, and Denise's mother.
I don't hold anything against any of them, I just can't agree that we are "friends".
I think she's right. A glimpse into the life of someone you would really never have had the opportunity. Currently I have 234 "friends" on facebook; however, if I have a put together a party of 10 of my friends I'd be hard pressed.
I have blogged in the past that maybe there is a reason people drift away from high school friends, and I have personally found some of my "reconnection's" unsettling. Yet, within the primordial soup of facebook "friends" there are those few who make it worth the while.
When I encounter a random person I happened to be facebook friends with I find I like them much better. I think it's the confirmation that we have both decided to accept that fact we are indeed "friends".
Likewise, I have had two occasions in which I have had my friendship declined. In truth, I didn't care for either individual very much before I put myself out there, which oddly makes me feel vulnerable, and requested my "friendship" be "accepted", but now I carry a little bit of hate in me for each of them...yes, hate (I know, this is the basis of a multitude of my issues, actually hating someone because they didn't facebook friend me, but it is really another blog).
There was a time Gioconda and I had a little competition going on who could obtain more "friends". It was actually during this period of time I requested my two rejections, or that is what I am telling myself- it was a numbers game....
At this point she has 322, so I am almost a good 100 down. Sometime I will troll her list to see if there is anyone I can pilfer, even a distant cousin I met when her parents renewed their vows in 2007 is fair game to me. On those fringe requests I'll add a little note, "I'm not sure you remember me, I'm Giooonda's partner," and then I'll add something that will connect us.
"We both love black pugs!"
That typically does it. I haven't gone thru her list recently, and I can usually pick up at lest 10-15 people.
Although in the World of Lesbian's being friends, real friends not just "friends" with your ex is not an odd occasion, having my spouse be friends with my ex's mother was a stretch.
I have not and will not request her.
"I don't understand it, you and Denise are friends, you and Paula (Denise's partner) are friends, and I AM friends with Denise , Paula and Denise's mother, why don't you just ask her," Gioconda said.
"I can't. The relationship ended terribly," I replied.
"Clearly, everyone is over it," she said and then dropped the conversation.
For a multitude of reasons, there are just those people I can't bear to become "friends" with. The sister of a woman I dated who after she broke up with me I stalked (to the point of obtaining employment where she worked), to the guy from high school who I broke up with my best friend after he became Student Body President, and Denise's mother.
I don't hold anything against any of them, I just can't agree that we are "friends".
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
