I am not talking to many...well, any really. My tsouris are nothing compared to what two friends are going through: each has lost *their* mother in this past week.
In Interstitial News, I am on blood pressure medication now. I am changing my life. I will not let this bastard kill me.
I am trying to lose myself in puzzles, mysteries...anything where I can, well, lose myself. My preferred outlets are my work (yes, I will be more forthcoming about this soon), and missing/disappeared/Doe cases. To that point, I have just finished watching one of the most (potentially) elegant solutions, one which only serves to demonstrate that, often, our solutions are presented to us; we just fail to attend to the signal (and I could wear my fingers to nubs were I to try to type out all the names, even the ones that immediately spring to mind, so I shan't). For me, for this reason, the event was not fruitless; far from it, in fact. I have no-one in my life who shares my passion for these cases, I have only those who will tolerate my ramblings occasionally, and I guess I am rambling here. But it is well worth watching if one likes to think. I will not bore anyone with discussion of the advancement of Reason as being a service to a Higher Purpose. People cringe when things like that come out of my mouth, so I will just give a little 'z"l' to be decent.
Sigh.
http://youtu.be/2ypHEhf94Qs
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
Complex Simplex Complex
I know...buffalo buffalo buffalo... Did you know that? Ha, ha, ha.
I suppose that it is wrong that I am reading pure wish-fulfilment pabulum, but it is all that I can take right now.
I can hardly listen. I can't respond. I just need time. Wearing a fake smile and balancing on a ball for everyone's amusement is tiring. So...that's my complex. What's yours?
Thank you.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
I suppose that it is wrong that I am reading pure wish-fulfilment pabulum, but it is all that I can take right now.
I can hardly listen. I can't respond. I just need time. Wearing a fake smile and balancing on a ball for everyone's amusement is tiring. So...that's my complex. What's yours?
Thank you.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Figures.
'pit' = 'put'; 'mice' = 'move'. I fail at everything.
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
Don't Panic
I am less panic-stricken since being pit on a maintenance dose of Buspar and Clonazepam. So that is nice.
I am doing everything I can to move on with my life, I really am. I would be lying if I said that I don't have moments of fear, rage, humiliation, shame, disgust...all of that. I do. I have such deeply-seated rage that our district attorney, whose salary I pay with my taxes, can say that virtually every form of acquaintance rape is a 'he said/she said' issue that juries don't 'buy'. There is nothing -- nothing -- that will ever heal that rage.
But I suppose that if that's the logic, I now have carte blanche to myself rape and debase some acquaintance, so don't say that I didn't warn you in advance.
Yes, I am joking and being a bitch. Humour is the only weapon I have. That, and a lot of Clonazepam.
It is hard for me to talk about, or write about, how I feel. I suppose it is easier for me to admit to fear than rage, and easier again to admit to rage than jealousy or envy.
Yes. Covetous envy. I has it.
I keep thinking, besides blaming myself in the first place, that none of this would have happened if I were beautiful. This is how my mind works, and if I can't be honest about it here, I have nowhere on Earth where I can be honest. I have always envied pretty girls, but now even more so because of the illogical thoughts that tell me that, were I beautiful, I would have been more valuable, too valuable to injure, or at the very least, I would have someone who would have made it such that this whole situation was never an event in the first place.
And hate. I have hate. It is for myself. Like the parable of the frog and the scorpion, a predator is a predator is a predator. No surprise there. What *is* surprising is how stupid *I* am. My stupidity renders ridiculous any claim to sympathy, pity, or help. It's not coming, and I do not deserve it anyway. That hurts, but it is the cold, hard truth.
And yes, I think of others, like Leah Peebles, and I understand the rage. As beautiful as she is, I would have thought she would have help, get help...something. But her case was dropped by the DA also. I feel for the rage, the need to just be numb anymore. I understand. I understand the desire to just let the Earth swallow you up.
I have days where I am productive, and days where I am less than so. Today is one of those 'less than' days. I try to distract myself, but it is hard some days. I will not hide and hate myself forever; I do not know when it will end, but it will. All I can do is push it out of my mind like I have been doing. Hopefully soon this will become permanent.
I left Eviljob early today because of the need to hide. I can't explain this need to hide; it is simply irrational. Possibly things will get better as I leave this area and mice on with my life. Everyone says, 'move on, move on...'. I am trying to. I really am.
So I am self-indulgent sometimes, and I hide. I wish there were someone to apologise to for this, but there is only myself.
I promise that I will try to post something more upbeat next time. I really promise that I will try. I guess my always having compartmentalised everything in my life has helped as far as a survival strategy.
Bye for now. I'm sorry to have been depressing.
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
I am doing everything I can to move on with my life, I really am. I would be lying if I said that I don't have moments of fear, rage, humiliation, shame, disgust...all of that. I do. I have such deeply-seated rage that our district attorney, whose salary I pay with my taxes, can say that virtually every form of acquaintance rape is a 'he said/she said' issue that juries don't 'buy'. There is nothing -- nothing -- that will ever heal that rage.
But I suppose that if that's the logic, I now have carte blanche to myself rape and debase some acquaintance, so don't say that I didn't warn you in advance.
Yes, I am joking and being a bitch. Humour is the only weapon I have. That, and a lot of Clonazepam.
It is hard for me to talk about, or write about, how I feel. I suppose it is easier for me to admit to fear than rage, and easier again to admit to rage than jealousy or envy.
Yes. Covetous envy. I has it.
I keep thinking, besides blaming myself in the first place, that none of this would have happened if I were beautiful. This is how my mind works, and if I can't be honest about it here, I have nowhere on Earth where I can be honest. I have always envied pretty girls, but now even more so because of the illogical thoughts that tell me that, were I beautiful, I would have been more valuable, too valuable to injure, or at the very least, I would have someone who would have made it such that this whole situation was never an event in the first place.
And hate. I have hate. It is for myself. Like the parable of the frog and the scorpion, a predator is a predator is a predator. No surprise there. What *is* surprising is how stupid *I* am. My stupidity renders ridiculous any claim to sympathy, pity, or help. It's not coming, and I do not deserve it anyway. That hurts, but it is the cold, hard truth.
And yes, I think of others, like Leah Peebles, and I understand the rage. As beautiful as she is, I would have thought she would have help, get help...something. But her case was dropped by the DA also. I feel for the rage, the need to just be numb anymore. I understand. I understand the desire to just let the Earth swallow you up.
I have days where I am productive, and days where I am less than so. Today is one of those 'less than' days. I try to distract myself, but it is hard some days. I will not hide and hate myself forever; I do not know when it will end, but it will. All I can do is push it out of my mind like I have been doing. Hopefully soon this will become permanent.
I left Eviljob early today because of the need to hide. I can't explain this need to hide; it is simply irrational. Possibly things will get better as I leave this area and mice on with my life. Everyone says, 'move on, move on...'. I am trying to. I really am.
So I am self-indulgent sometimes, and I hide. I wish there were someone to apologise to for this, but there is only myself.
I promise that I will try to post something more upbeat next time. I really promise that I will try. I guess my always having compartmentalised everything in my life has helped as far as a survival strategy.
Bye for now. I'm sorry to have been depressing.
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
Wednesday, May 08, 2013
Insomnia
There are times when I simply cannot sleep. Yes, I am taking my Buspar and Klonopin like a good girl, but sleep just will not come.
As my mother would say, I have been 'unfaired against'. Mummers was big on therapy in the '60s and '70s, and that is one phrase she picked up from some therapist, but it fits. It is not fair that acquaintance rape is hard to prosecute.
Don't believe me? Google it. I had to in order to wrap my mind around this. I think I googled 'why is acquaintance rape not prosecuted?', and the bottom line is that the attorneys believe, however demented it sounds, that juries think that all women who go off with men they know are whores.
Well, that's the Reader's Digest version.
The power went out. It's like three a.m., and the damned power went out, and that doesn't make it any easier to sleep. And I have NO mental health benefits on my insurance (what is covered is if I commit myself), so I have to pull me through this. I am trying to. My gyn thinks I have PTSD and wants me to see a psychiatrist, but that's not covered, and I can't afford the visits with everything else I have to pay. I explained this to my gyn, so she said she will keep refilling the Klonopin and Buspar, but she isn't very happy about it. :-/
I will be ok. I am trying very hard, despite the panic attacks, the insomnia, the weird feelings...I am trying.
Ok...now to try to sleep again.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
As my mother would say, I have been 'unfaired against'. Mummers was big on therapy in the '60s and '70s, and that is one phrase she picked up from some therapist, but it fits. It is not fair that acquaintance rape is hard to prosecute.
Don't believe me? Google it. I had to in order to wrap my mind around this. I think I googled 'why is acquaintance rape not prosecuted?', and the bottom line is that the attorneys believe, however demented it sounds, that juries think that all women who go off with men they know are whores.
Well, that's the Reader's Digest version.
The power went out. It's like three a.m., and the damned power went out, and that doesn't make it any easier to sleep. And I have NO mental health benefits on my insurance (what is covered is if I commit myself), so I have to pull me through this. I am trying to. My gyn thinks I have PTSD and wants me to see a psychiatrist, but that's not covered, and I can't afford the visits with everything else I have to pay. I explained this to my gyn, so she said she will keep refilling the Klonopin and Buspar, but she isn't very happy about it. :-/
I will be ok. I am trying very hard, despite the panic attacks, the insomnia, the weird feelings...I am trying.
Ok...now to try to sleep again.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
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