Category: Bad

Kid You Yes

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I have coloring books. I have markers. I have paint, brushes and paper. I have stickers and stamps. I have crayons – the Deluxe set complete with limited edition multiculturals and dayglos. Kid at heart? No. I keep these things for stress relief. Look at the ceiling and you will find brown twisty tree branches painted out of stress. Green leaves fecked out of frustration. I paint and color and create like a child to control the uncalm. Standing on my bed, reaching up to settle down.
I haven’t done that in awhile. I know I need to get back to it. A few years ago I was so wacked out that I developed a stress blister. “Spontaneous combustion” my doctor suggested. Weird. It’s happening again. Blisters appearing, bubbling up like heat rashes, harsh and itchy.
Maybe it’s time to get back to coloring. Back to painting. Pass the burnt sienna and indigo blue.

Entitled to Tell You So

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How could I not exclaim I Told You So when it was all over? I said it would happen and so it did. Now what? The barbarians have stormed the gates and now we are knee deep in repairs. [I realize that people read these blogs and for most, this particular one is in the shadows. I’ve left the lights off. Sorry you are in the dark, but you wouldn’t understand. It would take forever for me to explain it and the sad thing is I’m not even sure I know. I do know I can say Told You So.]

THEY came on campus today. For less than a week I have known about their arrival. Not enough time to really do anything about it. More than enough time to worry, though. Maybe that was their plan all along because worry I did. For four days I worried in the form of ranting. I felt brick walled, stone walled and walled in. Friends offered advice and while that calmed me it was only a temporary fix. When alone anxiety circled and fear soon followed. My fault is that I don’t have faith. I do not believe.

They came on campus today and asked the questions I anticipated. I opened my mouth before gobbledegook could come from somewhere else. I speculated, I suspected, I assumed, I answered and in the end I promised. Promised I would remedy the situation – the very situation I was made aware of four days ago. I was not as silent as some would have hoped.

They left campus. Gates stormed and now I’m left feeling revealed and vulnerable. As I pick up the pieces of my castle I know this is what I asked for. There is a hint of a smile on my face. I’m in pieces but it’s a chance to rebuild. I didn’t know this would happen. I wish I told you this, too.

Peta

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Peta = People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.Peta

Yesterday they sent me a survey. Stuck to the survey was a fake sticky note from “Ingrid.” Designed to look like a last minute message in blue “friendly” font it read, “you have been chosen to take part in a critical national referendum. Please read this ballot and return it within 10 days. Ingrid” Thanks, Ingrid. The wiseazz in me wants to send the survey back blank with a sticky that reads, “Ingrid, I followed your instructions to the letter. I read the ballot and am sending it back.” But, I can’t do that. I can’t be that sarcastic to an organization I admire.
Back in the day my favorite place to shop for bath products was the Body Shop. I liked the “this product was not tested on animals” sticker on every bottle. I liked that it was a grass roots organization that fostered trade with third world countries. Recycled bottles, handmade Tibetan paper, banana hair masks. It all seemed so back-to-basics good, earthy and wholesome. Until I learned they sold out and the company went corporate. I didn’t trust the labels anymore.
I think I’m schizophrenic because I don’t wear fur, yet I eat meat. And when it comes to testing on animals I like to play devil’s advocate. We want scientific advances for evil things like cancer. We want cures that are 100%. We need to be able to test our scientific breakthroughs to make sure they really do work. I know testing on animals is cruel, but would you rather they strap down your 80 year old blind grandpa? What the hey, he’s gonna die anyway. Save the puppy! Grandpa a bit much? How about testing on your two year old instead!

Okay. I know I being cruel. There’s a commerical running right now about protecting animals against cruelty and everytime I see it my heart breaks. I want to run out and adopt every abused animal out there. But, researchers are caught between a rock and a hard place. I honestly don’t believe testing on cute and fuzzies happens because they’re all Dahmers inside. Yes, we are learning more about testing on cultures of human cells and the organs of donors but if you were dying of cancer would you trust this babynew research?
But, that’s only one side of the story. If researchers are testing for allergens to cosmetics, cleaning products or even worse, military warfare I am dead set against using animals. Go find the Dahmers of society and put them to good use. Seriously.

ps~ True to nonprofit form Peta sent me mailing labels and asked me to donate.
For more information about Peta, go here.

What the Diamond Said

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I found a diamond earring I thought was past missing and had moved onto completely and utterly gone.
Later she mentioned her own mortality in a casual tone, “I think I have 10-15 years left.” Standing on the other side of young and talking old. Unnatural to consider at her age. I didn’t consider and was unnecessarily cruel. I agreed with her. Yup. 10-15 years. The conversation we must have – I was not having any of it. The conversation I dreaded was on my doorstep but I was in denial. Can’t we talk about this later? If not now, then when? Is there an easy way to discuss this?  

I found a diamond earring completely gone. It glittered on the carpet, winking at me to notice.
Save me before I’m sucked up. Save me so you can see me again. Place me in a box named Cherished and don’t hand me down or hand anywhere. Place me in your ear and learn to sleep on your other side. For good. Forever. For I am the gift of your mother. I am the symbol of pride as she fussed and fidgeted with your hood seconds before marching. I am unrelenting love. Unspoken mother’s love.

10-15. She said 10-15. They say diamonds are forever. Not so when lost in the carpet underfoot. Pride from a parent is permanent. Love is everlasting. Wear it well.

Jumping Off

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I think about suicide from time to time. When I said this to my boss he looked me in the eye and solomnly said “we all do.” He didn’t try to patronize me and talk me out of something considered. He knew what I meant. I have respect for people like that.

Right now I am considering suicide of a different nature. I think by even writing this I risk decapitation of some sort. I want to jump off this career track and lay myself down in the way of the oncoming train of change.
What do you do when you find out your organization isn’t supported, barely acknowledged? What do you do when your values are scoffed at, swept under the rug? The writing is on the wall. The truth is in black and white for everyone to read and I don’t know what to do. Really don’t.

My contract is up in June. I promised kisa I would open the newspaper to the section I haven’t looked at in over six years. I promised him I would update the resume and who cares that the ink has even’t dried on the word “director”?

There is a part of me that wants to fight. Fight like hell. We have a good group. If we work together couldn’t we beat Goliath at his own game? Why shouldn’t we try? Or what about this – why can’t I play the Darwin game and try to survive on my own? Band with the enemy and take ’em all out? I’ve only been playing this game for three years. Before that I was a bit player, a volunteer. Who’s to say I can’t switch teams and go public? So many questions. No answers.

For now, all I want to do is jump. Suicide.

Losing Track of Days

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Is it a good thing to not know what day you are in the middle of? I get restless and nervous when days start to blend together into one big long string of same ol, same ol. It finally happened today. I was in a Saturday frame of mind all day.
Maybe it’s because of the setting sun of my vacation. Maybe it’s because my dreams are the result of restless sleep. Whatever the cause I need to change the pace. Faster, slower. I’m not sure.
I’ve seen my father for four nights running. He comes to my life when I least expect it and every time I end up trying to show him where I’ve been before. Again with the running shoes. Again with him not dead, just gone. Why do I cling to something so unreal? Should anyone mourn like this? It’s not fair. I’ve cried more than my fair share. Exactly what is fair these days?
I even had a panic dream – thought I had missed teaching an important occupational therapy class. Woke up thinking I was late and fired. Woke up feeling confused and tired. Sweaty and disorientated. I hate that feeling at 4:00am. Even the relief of realizing the reality didn’t relax me. Situational insomnia struck again. I’m not sure I know who I am these days.
I’m thinking I should write these night visions out – put them into a perspective more coherent than my perplexed psyche. Something to do. Anything to help.

Ego Checked

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I started a blog this morning about how much I needed a mulligan, a do-over for the day. It was all about me. It started off bad thanks to a bad nights sleep. I should clarify – a bad nights not sleep. If it wasn’t the wind, it was the cat. Both keeping me up, both making me insomniac. Later, I dreamed of Chessie – swept away by a hurricane’s fury.
Maybe overtiredness is howI cut myself opening the mail at 7am. A papercut gusher before my first sip of coffee. Not nice. I still shaken by a cat’s cries drowned by the wind.
Then, there’s kisa…He emailed me yesterday saying, “no gym.  back sorta hurts…” By the time I saw him that night he was hunched over in pain. He couldn’t even stand straight. By bedtime he was reduced to crawling up the stairs growling, “how humiliating!” He didn’t want me to even look at him.
Today started out being a selfish ItsAllAboutMe day. I had a night of insomnia and crazy wind-induced dreams. In the end is was all about taking care of kisa. I forgot about Me, Myself & Moi. Maybe that’s the key – whenever I’m feeling too much Ego, whenever I’m all about Me I’ll take care of someone else.  

risparmi me

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Today I painted my office. Calming barely-there blues and into-the-void-nothing-nothing white. I needed to be swallowed up by the paint and have it spit back out a whole new me, myself & moi. Someone said I was being boring with the brushes. Someone else asked about my blood pressure. Was I surviving the seething? No. Not really. 24 hours and I-Can’t-Come-In-Because-It’s-Raining hasn’t help.
But, painting helped. Somewhat.
What I really want is to be back among the lupines. I want to lay belly down in the tallest of purples and pinks and drink in their scent. Inhale their unconditional love. I want the sun to go down, the fireflies to come out and the diplomatic darkness to douse my fire of fury. I want to hold hands in the descending twilight, close my eyes and talk about houses, hula hoops and hope. Drink wine and laugh about nothing just to laugh outloud.
Just to say we could.
I want to tickle AT and hold SR close, just to be comforted and cocooned by their innocence.
I don’t know if I’ll survive the conflagration in the coming weeks. I am afraid of what my barely contained electric anger is capable of sparking. My hands shake when I think about the voltage of revenge I could unleash. I’ve got it all right here and like I said, barely contained. I fear I might lose control.
I tried running last night and it was a mess. I was a mess. I dropped my music, lost my groove, fell out of step, choked back vomit, and barely made it through 31 minutes. I wanted to sweat more so the tears could come and be camouflaged. Nothing felt right. Nothing is right right now.
Bottom of the barrel: 2.96

Waking to the Reality

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I had bad dreams last night. Bad to the point of nightmare, and scary to the point of DidIReallyDoThat? I woke up not knowing which reality was mine – the night visions or the day truths.  I learned something yesterday – something that has me seething twice as terrible today. My barely contained anger has noWhere to go, noWay to be released…so it bubbles in my brain, thrashes like a live wire. Someone tried to help me with the Where and Way but the suggestion is too benign for how electric I am. Right now.

Here’s the thing. You complained in public. You went outside the We Can Handle This Here and got the There involved. You told your side of the story – never mind how twisted and untrue it all is. You talked so horrible until you were told this would ALL be in the open. Everyone would know what you said. Suddenly, you wanted your mommy. Suddenly, you wished you could take it all back. Sad but true. Sad but you. Here’s what I have to say in retaliation (seething aside). The Gloves are off. You told your tale, we’ll tell ours. Yes, we have stories to tell. Documents and documents of stories to tell. We’ve been keeping track, keeping score. There is a price to pay for going public. Don’t think your dirty laundry is your dirty little secret. We’ll go there, too.

Mother Natural

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School was cancelled Wednesday thanks to the Nor’Easter that blew in late-late Tuesday night. Call me crazy but I think the Mom in the Sky knew I needed a break from all things work. For starters, my department has been living with the smell of puke for the past four (four? four!) days. Fresh puke has a definite smell…four+ day old, decaying puke, well…that’s another story. I can’t even tell you how rancid the odor is. I simply can’t get into it. The biggest problem is we don’t know where it’s coming from. How disturbing is that? I’m ill everytime I try to sit at the reference desk.
Next, there’s the communication thing. Way back in the beginning when the New Guy took office he said future salaries and promotions would be dependant on merit. What did people think, that our little corner of the world would be exempt from the scrutiny? The fact that I’m *still* hearing about the reviews does nothing but irritate me now.
In light of the aforementioned “merit” scare I have done a little demerit dodging of my own. Last semester I sent over a teaching proposal to a much-in-the-dark department. I had culled ideas from my colleagues and included their original documents in the proposal packet. This week I get a call from the head of the department, “E., what is this crap? This page on ——? I can’t submit this! It’s full of typos; spelling, grammar, punctuation – you name it… and what’s with the justify center? It looks like sh!t.” My head was buzzing as I listened to him rant. I came this [] close to claiming the document as my own because even though it stated who authored the draft at the top (center, of course) I didn’t want the HOD to think I was calling him blind or worse, stupid. My name is clearly not — and he knows that. To point that out would be professional suicide. Luckily, I remembered my new motto, “Look out for yourself because no one else is going to do it” and I admitted it was a coworker’s report. To soften the blow of pointing out the obvious I added, “Maybe — forgot to put a name on it” knowing full well it was there. HOD grumbled and said, “well, if it’s all the same to you this garbage is going in the trash.” Ouch.
Then, there are the classes. I don’t mind them. Actually, I love-love-love teaching. I’m not standing in front of a class spouting the same crap everyday. I get to talk about different things depending on the class. It’s cool. What’s killing me is the schedule. Because I’m coming in to teach 2-3 hours early I’m putting in longer days. I’m getting out of sorts with life (as I bitched about earlier).
So, I thank the Powers That Be for giving me a reprieve from the current hell on earth. 

Hello, hurtable

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In my book called life there is not one that chapter that doesn’t have at least one sentence of guilt. I’ve heard that purging is a good way to get rid of things, especially guilt. Let the spew begin:

If I could put you and her together, you would be the perfect woman…or, wait. She would. ** I blame you for this family’s problems. ** She’s just a better friend. ** He’s just a best friend. ** Ever believe in second chances? ** We made each other better people…too bad it’s for someone else. ** I don’t want anything to do with — and you are —. ** I never want to not know you. ** I want a divorce. ** I’m looking forward to seeing sirsy without you. ** This won’t hurt too much. ** I quit. ** Can we switch rooms tonight? ** You will grow to hate him. ** I didn’t want you. ** Once you have had the perfect cake, who needs frosting? ** I’ll be your best friend. ** You’re not that kind of friend. ** We’re too different. ** I just want you gone. ** You are not welcome in my house. ** — was a one night stand. ** It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t believe IN you. ** It will never happen again. ** I can stop anytime I want to. ** The leaf is falling off the tree. ** — died instantly. ** Libraries will be obsolete in a few years, anyway. ** What are you, stupid? ** I don’t have a problem with — ** Are you sure it’s okay? ** I’m okay.

Protecting My Good

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“- – – – – – Says:eeyore
January 23rd, 2007 at 11:37 pm e
blank stares means I have confused and angered…and that makes me giddy”

I can’t decide how this statement makes me feel. Angry? Not necessarily. No. Sad, yes probably. Not good, though. I definitely don’t feel happy about this statement. For the past two weeks I have been dealing with people who felt they were dealt a raw deal. Up until last night I was looking forward to running away and not dealing with what was dealt. I’ve changed my mind about that.
Maybe it’s the yoga. No. I know it’s the yoga because something amazing has come over me. I think it’s called Calm. I am Quitting the Caring. I have determined I don’t need statements like this one in my life. Ordinarily, I would have done some calling out, and argued it out, and out and out and out. Rehashing the ugly. Not so this time. I’m simply saying I don’t agree with it. End of story.

I left someone because I thought he was too negative for my already black-clouded space (that, and the sad fact that he couldn’t keep it in his pants). But, really. Standing just this side of suicidal I needed sunshine, not cynicism and cheating sex. He couldn’t shake his own Eeyore attitude (or Her for that matter). He couldn’t deliver anything but derogatory remarks about the world around him, so I dearly departed him. Years later I still think of him in his Florida funk and wonder if making people confused and angry would make him giddy. Probably. Evoking a negative emotion in someone to create self~happiness really doesn’t make sense to me. But, it would to him, I’m sure. Here’s the thing: I don’t want or need an explanation. I’m okay with knowing I don’t want this negativity in my life. I want to surround myself with people who love their lives, are happy with who they are. I want to be around people who won’t Box me in or Eeyore me out. Those are the someones who will protect my good. Help me protect my good. Say something good, please. It will mean the world to me in these nagging, negative times.

Witch Evil

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evilI am way tired of the tractable. I write something, anything. You instantly think it’s about you, you, you. You always think it’s about you. Always. Why? Really, why, why, why? Is your ego just T H A T big? I can’t take it anymore. Really. I am stepping on imaginary toes. It makes me afraid to write honestly because everything is an imprecation on you…or so you think. I can spit them if you want. All day, anyday you want.
Please. Do me a favor. Step back. Or better yet, step off. Seriously. If it’s about you, I’ll tell you. Just ask.

Sinking Sanity

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earthquakeWhen does someone go from being All There to Losing It? What are the signs? Is there anything to be done? Alone on Saturday night I watched a biography on Marilyn Monroe. In the beginning all I felt was sadness for her, the actress. It was awful that every role she took typecast her as the dumb blond. She wanted to break out of stupid; she wanted to be taken seriously. The figures on her figure kept her just the bombshell actress. Then I felt sadness for her, the person. No one noticed her downward spiral as something cerebral; they all saw it as something celebrity. Acting up. Acting out. When she died it was an apparent “accidental” suicide. Accidental or intentional, when is suicide something to shrug off? Couldn’t anyone help her? Didn’t anyone see the signs?

I rant about this because I see this happening to someone in my makeshift community. She started out simply nice. Now, she’s simply nutty. Physically, mentally. Life is shifting around her and she’s starting to lose her balance. I see people turning their heads away to her weirdness, turning their backs on her sinking sanity until finally, they shut her out completely. Will she make the papers with her suicide? I’m scared it will be that way. The life will shift just enough, sanity will sink just enough. She’ll lose her grip completely, then lose her life. Here’s what troubles me. I remember simply nice before simply nutty. Do I see the signs?