I think I am taking another week from Mary; I am apparently not ready for anyone's humour but my own. I have to recover in my own time.
The hardest part about selling oneself is the fear; fear of change, fear of failure, just plain fear. I am pushing through anyway.
No, there is no one to be proud, but that's Life.
- Posted using an app that I drew on an Etch-a-Sketch modified to run Free BSD.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Jocamo fi na ye (the black cat returns!)
I am running out of song lyrics; I am down to translating. XD
I skipped with Mary this week, for a number of reasons: First, I am tired of being so bloody self-obsessed. The amount of time I have spent in contemplation of All That is Ancodia in the past few months exceeds the amount of time spent in the same way for, oh, MY ENTIRE LIFE, by a magnitude of exactly eleventy-billion and six.
I am officially quite over myself, thank you very much.
Second, I am as uncomfortable with her talk of 'healthy sexuality' and my need to partner up as I am with my father's occasional talk omitting 'healthy sexuality' and focussing on my need to partner up. I feel no such need. I have felt, known really, that no such beast exists for many years now. The number of people who want to walk through an abandoned amusement park -- taking pictures, talking about robots and zombie apocalypses, discussing serial and spree killers and arguing over whether Phil Hartman (z"l) was channelling a dollop of Jack Cassidy (z"l), or if the persona was just a zeitgeist-like coincidence -- numbers exactly one:
Me.
Third ... I'm bored. I went to buy makeup. I got Too Faced's lip plumping krappe even though my lips need plumping like Joan Rivers needs another face lift, but, alas, the shite doesn't work. Or my lips are as fat as they are going to get, period. I may try Lip Fusion, but back to my story. I also got TF's smexy powder and kabuki brush, so I shan't be shiny any longer, thanks for caring. While I was at Whatzit, I saw a new brand that is called something like Ingsoc (no, seriously), and it is cheap and the shadows are something like 78% pigment for $7.50, so you know I'll be back this weekend, and I'll drag Meg. They had some stupendous orange and yellow hues, and orange and yellow are the new 'fuck you, I want to put this on my eyelids'. Everybody knows that.
Ok, well, you know it *now*.
I have basically spent the whole week in hiding, but that's ok, 'cos my sertraline got all upped and junk. I don't think it is working. ::taps foot::
Turkey really did a smashing job on my hair. I could cry. I have exactly what I've wanted, a layered hime-style cut with the kind of payos action on the sides. So then I went to buy more makeup, and ended up having the salesgirl try to convince me that Jesus is king and blah. Oh, the hell I go through for being honest. Saying I am not religious does *not* mean I want you to convince me that yours is 'right'. Ever notice that no-one comes up to you and says, 'hey, doll! I'm in the shittiest, stupidest religion of all time, and I'd like to share it with you!'...no? Umm, that would be because everyone thinks *they* are right. Just an observation.
Fourth, I can't think of a fourth reason. I have been on a marathon of Very Old Television practically all week, and I am going to go fall asleep watching a massive crush I have had since I was like, six or seven. No, not Batman. I'd tell you all about it, but someone would just think I am hideously demented.
But Batman was an awesome guess. That one I'll admit to.
Love you, mean it.
Oh! Fourthliest was that I do not want to discuss fucking VD. That's right, Valentine's Day. The end of the Holiday Season, and the worst holiday ever. I have never had a nice one. People suck. I plan to be alone. I did buy Borghese gloves and booties for Meg in case whatever closet fucktard she is dating doesn't give her something. Nobody puts Meg in a corner, and all that schmaltz.
Okay...back to pickling my brain.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
I skipped with Mary this week, for a number of reasons: First, I am tired of being so bloody self-obsessed. The amount of time I have spent in contemplation of All That is Ancodia in the past few months exceeds the amount of time spent in the same way for, oh, MY ENTIRE LIFE, by a magnitude of exactly eleventy-billion and six.
I am officially quite over myself, thank you very much.
Second, I am as uncomfortable with her talk of 'healthy sexuality' and my need to partner up as I am with my father's occasional talk omitting 'healthy sexuality' and focussing on my need to partner up. I feel no such need. I have felt, known really, that no such beast exists for many years now. The number of people who want to walk through an abandoned amusement park -- taking pictures, talking about robots and zombie apocalypses, discussing serial and spree killers and arguing over whether Phil Hartman (z"l) was channelling a dollop of Jack Cassidy (z"l), or if the persona was just a zeitgeist-like coincidence -- numbers exactly one:
Me.
Third ... I'm bored. I went to buy makeup. I got Too Faced's lip plumping krappe even though my lips need plumping like Joan Rivers needs another face lift, but, alas, the shite doesn't work. Or my lips are as fat as they are going to get, period. I may try Lip Fusion, but back to my story. I also got TF's smexy powder and kabuki brush, so I shan't be shiny any longer, thanks for caring. While I was at Whatzit, I saw a new brand that is called something like Ingsoc (no, seriously), and it is cheap and the shadows are something like 78% pigment for $7.50, so you know I'll be back this weekend, and I'll drag Meg. They had some stupendous orange and yellow hues, and orange and yellow are the new 'fuck you, I want to put this on my eyelids'. Everybody knows that.
Ok, well, you know it *now*.
I have basically spent the whole week in hiding, but that's ok, 'cos my sertraline got all upped and junk. I don't think it is working. ::taps foot::
Turkey really did a smashing job on my hair. I could cry. I have exactly what I've wanted, a layered hime-style cut with the kind of payos action on the sides. So then I went to buy more makeup, and ended up having the salesgirl try to convince me that Jesus is king and blah. Oh, the hell I go through for being honest. Saying I am not religious does *not* mean I want you to convince me that yours is 'right'. Ever notice that no-one comes up to you and says, 'hey, doll! I'm in the shittiest, stupidest religion of all time, and I'd like to share it with you!'...no? Umm, that would be because everyone thinks *they* are right. Just an observation.
Fourth, I can't think of a fourth reason. I have been on a marathon of Very Old Television practically all week, and I am going to go fall asleep watching a massive crush I have had since I was like, six or seven. No, not Batman. I'd tell you all about it, but someone would just think I am hideously demented.
But Batman was an awesome guess. That one I'll admit to.
Love you, mean it.
Oh! Fourthliest was that I do not want to discuss fucking VD. That's right, Valentine's Day. The end of the Holiday Season, and the worst holiday ever. I have never had a nice one. People suck. I plan to be alone. I did buy Borghese gloves and booties for Meg in case whatever closet fucktard she is dating doesn't give her something. Nobody puts Meg in a corner, and all that schmaltz.
Okay...back to pickling my brain.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Sunday, February 09, 2014
You walk around this town with your head all up in the sky
There are a lot of things that I want. One of them isn't insomnia, but there's not much I can do about that; I am only human.
I do not like the general consensus thing. I don't want to be a part of it. I don't know how much I am getting out of therapy any longer.
Things I've Learnt: I need better boundaries. I need to trust my gut instincts more. I need to be less afraid. I need to make up for not really having a childhood. I need to not feel as if I am responsible for everything, all the time. I have to talk myself up and sell myself more.
Things I Disagree With: There is such a thing as a person who is truly evil. Things are easier when seen in black and white terms. Absolutes (always, never, all, none) are ok. My mother is deserving of condemnation. I exhibit sociopathic traits, but am not a sociopath (don't know if she was joking with this one). I should be benevolent to people who are malevolent towards me (yet this is somehow not ass-kissing, and not at odds with there being evil people undeserving of help). I can't do this alone.
I think I am done. I am debating.
In Other News, I finally fixed my hair; my new stylist is Meg's stylist, and he is awesome (or, as a snowflake unfortunately wrote to me, 'osum'). Meg warmed me that he doesn't talk much, and you know me -- that just won't do. I guess Meg never has *tried* to talk with him; he told me he doesn't talk because his English is bad (he is Turkish). I told him that the general consensus is that my English is hideous. We like each other. Meg is jealous.
I am talking myself up and selling myself this week; that's the reason for the new 'do. I now have side fringe.
Well, Toorkee is Tony & Guy trained; I figure he knows. Meh; what do I know, other than it's funny to call him 'Toorkee'. I think he likes it.
My father's health is declining. He will not do anything about it. More on this later.
Right now, I have to attack this insomnia with a vorpal Benedryl. LYMI.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
I do not like the general consensus thing. I don't want to be a part of it. I don't know how much I am getting out of therapy any longer.
Things I've Learnt: I need better boundaries. I need to trust my gut instincts more. I need to be less afraid. I need to make up for not really having a childhood. I need to not feel as if I am responsible for everything, all the time. I have to talk myself up and sell myself more.
Things I Disagree With: There is such a thing as a person who is truly evil. Things are easier when seen in black and white terms. Absolutes (always, never, all, none) are ok. My mother is deserving of condemnation. I exhibit sociopathic traits, but am not a sociopath (don't know if she was joking with this one). I should be benevolent to people who are malevolent towards me (yet this is somehow not ass-kissing, and not at odds with there being evil people undeserving of help). I can't do this alone.
I think I am done. I am debating.
In Other News, I finally fixed my hair; my new stylist is Meg's stylist, and he is awesome (or, as a snowflake unfortunately wrote to me, 'osum'). Meg warmed me that he doesn't talk much, and you know me -- that just won't do. I guess Meg never has *tried* to talk with him; he told me he doesn't talk because his English is bad (he is Turkish). I told him that the general consensus is that my English is hideous. We like each other. Meg is jealous.
I am talking myself up and selling myself this week; that's the reason for the new 'do. I now have side fringe.
Well, Toorkee is Tony & Guy trained; I figure he knows. Meh; what do I know, other than it's funny to call him 'Toorkee'. I think he likes it.
My father's health is declining. He will not do anything about it. More on this later.
Right now, I have to attack this insomnia with a vorpal Benedryl. LYMI.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Wednesday, February 05, 2014
Don't look like much here, but we have everything.
'You know about the machines?'
'Yeah, I repair them.'
'There's one chasing me now, a gunslinger.'
'Gunslinger ... Must be a model 404. Maybe a 406. If he's a 406, he's got all the sensory equipment. It's a beautiful machine!'
'He's after me!'
'I don't doubt it.'
'What can I do?'
'There's nothing you can do; he'll get you. You haven't got a chance.'
'There must be something.'
'Fella, don't kid yourself. There are things you could try: Acid for his visual system; noise for his hearing. No matter what, he'll always be one jump ahead of you! You haven't got a chance!'
'Yes, I do.'
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
'Yeah, I repair them.'
'There's one chasing me now, a gunslinger.'
'Gunslinger ... Must be a model 404. Maybe a 406. If he's a 406, he's got all the sensory equipment. It's a beautiful machine!'
'He's after me!'
'I don't doubt it.'
'What can I do?'
'There's nothing you can do; he'll get you. You haven't got a chance.'
'There must be something.'
'Fella, don't kid yourself. There are things you could try: Acid for his visual system; noise for his hearing. No matter what, he'll always be one jump ahead of you! You haven't got a chance!'
'Yes, I do.'
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Monday, February 03, 2014
Sad But True
I watch Match Game to calm down. I am up to Match Game '76.
Mummers' oldest sister died; the funeral was Saturday before last. Perhaps I can discuss this without getting rabies in a few more days.
Mary is right, I cannot save the world; the world doesn't even *want* to be saved. I just need to do me.
I have to get back to Match Game; this Dealing With Reality thing is too much for me.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Mummers' oldest sister died; the funeral was Saturday before last. Perhaps I can discuss this without getting rabies in a few more days.
Mary is right, I cannot save the world; the world doesn't even *want* to be saved. I just need to do me.
I have to get back to Match Game; this Dealing With Reality thing is too much for me.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Friday, December 20, 2013
If I ever get off this killin' floor, I'll never get down this low no more.
I am making it. My psychologist, I'll call her Mary because that happens to be her name, says that I am fixable. I have been taking the PTSD cocktail (buspirone with a sertraline chaser from my psychiatrist, Dr. A.) long enough now that I can be reasoned with.
Ha, ha. Never thought that would happen, did you?
We -- Mary and I -- are working on a lot of behaviours, gestures, stances, and speech acts I have that, basically, make me psychopath bait. I am trying. Mary specialises in trauma and anxiety. Dr. A just makes it so I am not beyond talking to. I will probably be on the meds for two years, he says.
One of the problems that I have is the question of this whole Greater Good thing; I am not supposed to internalise and/or solve other people's problems. Ok. Fine. Other people are adults, and are in charge of their own mistakes, oversights, mis-steps, and failures in Life. Ok. Fine. I am not obligated to have empathy for everyone; it is not up to me to save the world.
Query: Whose responsibility is it, then?
http://youtu.be/4aWbo84ZENs
And no pathetic crapping out with some bullshit about your favourite sky fairy. There is no sanctuary (bonus points for identifying that one), there is no sky fairy, and if you are good all your life, when you die, you are dead just like Adolf Hitler. No one is going to give you a lollipop. No one gave Hitler a lump of coal. The cake is a lie.
I am sorry if that hurt you. Santa Claus isn't real either. People lie and people believe incredibly stupid things; just look at Peter Popoff and the Mormons. Get over it. Try not to be one of them.
I adhere, generally, to a standard of consequential ethics; in other words, the 'right' thing to do is the thing that helps people, brings pleasure, preserves Life, and so forth. The greatest benefit for the most people kind of thing.
As a side note, the antithetical position to my ethical code is that fucked up mess where humans run around killing other humans (including children, sometimes their own) because some god told them to do it, which -- to them -- is a totally legitimate reason to commit any form of fuckery, regardless of the injury it may bring to other humans, including children, sometimes their own.
I am not going to pretend that I can even begin to wrap my mind around that point of view, I just thought I'd mention it.
Butsoanyway. If I had been all detached and making other people shoulder their own burdens, well... Harry would probably be dead or a homeless bum. Mummers wouldn't have had a chance once she started getting sick. And I could go on for hours; my point is that *someone* has to care. *Someone* has to help. If I am not helping, how am I any different from the narcissists, sociopaths, and psychopaths I am supposed to be arming myself against?
I do not want to ever have an evil person in my life again. I am trying to change what I can. Yes, Mary is right, but...
...who is supposed to be fixing things if the ones who are able won't because that is what makes them appear as prey to the amoral psychos?
I don't have an answer. I give Mary examples, counter-examples really, of how my being 'over-involved' (as she terms it) has worked, has been for the Greater Good, has helped, and she just shakes her head and tries to get me to see that if I fought and did for myself like I do for others, I would be so happy, successful, and scaring the bejeezus out of the sociopaths so badly that they would be racing to get *away* from me. And of course there are examples of where I have failed miserably.
I would still like to hold on to my belief that The World to Come is actually something that could be had -- by us, right here, in this lifetime.
Or maybe that is just a stupid superstition, as well.
http://youtu.be/y1wDEueYocU
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Ha, ha. Never thought that would happen, did you?
We -- Mary and I -- are working on a lot of behaviours, gestures, stances, and speech acts I have that, basically, make me psychopath bait. I am trying. Mary specialises in trauma and anxiety. Dr. A just makes it so I am not beyond talking to. I will probably be on the meds for two years, he says.
One of the problems that I have is the question of this whole Greater Good thing; I am not supposed to internalise and/or solve other people's problems. Ok. Fine. Other people are adults, and are in charge of their own mistakes, oversights, mis-steps, and failures in Life. Ok. Fine. I am not obligated to have empathy for everyone; it is not up to me to save the world.
Query: Whose responsibility is it, then?
http://youtu.be/4aWbo84ZENs
And no pathetic crapping out with some bullshit about your favourite sky fairy. There is no sanctuary (bonus points for identifying that one), there is no sky fairy, and if you are good all your life, when you die, you are dead just like Adolf Hitler. No one is going to give you a lollipop. No one gave Hitler a lump of coal. The cake is a lie.
I am sorry if that hurt you. Santa Claus isn't real either. People lie and people believe incredibly stupid things; just look at Peter Popoff and the Mormons. Get over it. Try not to be one of them.
I adhere, generally, to a standard of consequential ethics; in other words, the 'right' thing to do is the thing that helps people, brings pleasure, preserves Life, and so forth. The greatest benefit for the most people kind of thing.
As a side note, the antithetical position to my ethical code is that fucked up mess where humans run around killing other humans (including children, sometimes their own) because some god told them to do it, which -- to them -- is a totally legitimate reason to commit any form of fuckery, regardless of the injury it may bring to other humans, including children, sometimes their own.
I am not going to pretend that I can even begin to wrap my mind around that point of view, I just thought I'd mention it.
Butsoanyway. If I had been all detached and making other people shoulder their own burdens, well... Harry would probably be dead or a homeless bum. Mummers wouldn't have had a chance once she started getting sick. And I could go on for hours; my point is that *someone* has to care. *Someone* has to help. If I am not helping, how am I any different from the narcissists, sociopaths, and psychopaths I am supposed to be arming myself against?
I do not want to ever have an evil person in my life again. I am trying to change what I can. Yes, Mary is right, but...
...who is supposed to be fixing things if the ones who are able won't because that is what makes them appear as prey to the amoral psychos?
I don't have an answer. I give Mary examples, counter-examples really, of how my being 'over-involved' (as she terms it) has worked, has been for the Greater Good, has helped, and she just shakes her head and tries to get me to see that if I fought and did for myself like I do for others, I would be so happy, successful, and scaring the bejeezus out of the sociopaths so badly that they would be racing to get *away* from me. And of course there are examples of where I have failed miserably.
I would still like to hold on to my belief that The World to Come is actually something that could be had -- by us, right here, in this lifetime.
Or maybe that is just a stupid superstition, as well.
http://youtu.be/y1wDEueYocU
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Weekends
I am watching a lot of Xmas movies on Netflix. It calms me down. So I guess that I am off the Columbo, Disappeared, and 48 Hours Mystery kick I have been on for months.
Yes, atheists can so too enjoy silly holiday movies. It's not like I'm saying I believe in Santa.
Sweetie stays with me a lot because I believe she thinks we are cats together. I'm just a funny-shaped cat who uses a laptop. I guess I am the Head Cat in Charge.
Everyone else is fine, even though I am still upset over Weebie dying. Things aren't the same without her. I hate losing family so much, I just have no words.
I've been in therapy for a little bit now, and it is helping, I think. I have a psychologist whom I see once or twice a week, and a psychiatrist whom I am down to seeing once a month for meds maintenance. My dx is PTSD. :-/
I have a hard time talking about my feelings, partially because a lot of the time I am not sure what they are, and partially because I feel like I am whining when I do.
Work is, well, work. I am trying to make that better. More on that later.
This will definitely not be the greatest holiday season ever, but I am hoping it will be ok, and I will come out the other end with a better job and a better life. I am working a lot on Me.
And I know I seriously need to fix this page. Sigh...there is a lot I need to fix, and I am going to do all of it. Mostly alone, which my psychologist wants me to change. I am working on that, too.
- Posted using an app that I drew on an Etch-a-Sketch modified to run Free BSD.
Yes, atheists can so too enjoy silly holiday movies. It's not like I'm saying I believe in Santa.
Sweetie stays with me a lot because I believe she thinks we are cats together. I'm just a funny-shaped cat who uses a laptop. I guess I am the Head Cat in Charge.
Everyone else is fine, even though I am still upset over Weebie dying. Things aren't the same without her. I hate losing family so much, I just have no words.
I've been in therapy for a little bit now, and it is helping, I think. I have a psychologist whom I see once or twice a week, and a psychiatrist whom I am down to seeing once a month for meds maintenance. My dx is PTSD. :-/
I have a hard time talking about my feelings, partially because a lot of the time I am not sure what they are, and partially because I feel like I am whining when I do.
Work is, well, work. I am trying to make that better. More on that later.
This will definitely not be the greatest holiday season ever, but I am hoping it will be ok, and I will come out the other end with a better job and a better life. I am working a lot on Me.
And I know I seriously need to fix this page. Sigh...there is a lot I need to fix, and I am going to do all of it. Mostly alone, which my psychologist wants me to change. I am working on that, too.
- Posted using an app that I drew on an Etch-a-Sketch modified to run Free BSD.
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