Light and Darkness

Hi, I'm Hermit Hilda.

I hate that I have to come to the library to post and read. It's not that I don't like the library. Far from it. It's just when it's midnight, the library isn't a convenient thing.

Ack!

I've been home doing nothing. I clean a little. I mostly lay about and do nothing. I spent most of Sunday watching Colonial House. I think I may have mentioned that I'm a PBS junkie. I am. It has some of the greatest television. I love Mobil Masterpiece Theatre. I watched Alex Kingston in Moll Flanders. I get my British Comedy fix. There are the documentaries and historicals like the Bridging New York.

Anyways...I've been hooked on PBS' latest historical project, The Colonial House and I have a crush on one of the freeman, Don Wood. There's a bit of the Vincent appeal in him. I'm just really a goof, you know?

Not much else going on. Feeling still very much alone. I've literally done much of nothing. I haven't been to the cafe in a week or so. Just wondering how everyone is.

Tell me. Please. Write a note to let me know you are well. I read the blogs but I need something personal. Ok, I'm going to go and pout in my little corner now.

Hope all is well with everyone.

Christ and A Dream

I had a nightmare Tuesday night that left me scared to my core. I don't recall all the aspects of it save for a few moments.

I was standing behind Christ's left side about a hundred feet. He was crucified and still alive. The amount of energy I felt in my soul leads me to believe that I saw the entire Passion played out before that moment. I was terribly upset and think I was crying hysterically. I recall that there were some people there but have details of who. I was fixed on watching Jesus. Then he turned to look at me, straining his neck to face me. He was dirty and bloody and quite sad. There was accusation in his eyes. Then suddenly he was beheaded. His decapitated head rolled to my feet. I was screaming.

I woke up at this point and was scared of what was in the house. I was afraid of the dark and what it held. I wandered from my room to the living room where I felt safer to sleep. I quickly forced myself to think of other things before my eyes slid shut. My heart was racing. My face and chest ached like I had been crying hard for hours. But the worse feeling was that Jesus was royally pissed at me. That he was going to find me and take revenge. And I never felt more responsible in my life.

I only felt responsible when he looked at me. Until that point, I felt removed. I was weeping over his torture. I was upset that people, other people not me, had done this to him.

I'm fearful of my religious dreams. I have them often and they are not pleasant. They mostly contain demons and the lot.

"It's wafer thin!"

Ok, so I was a bit heavy a couple of posts ago. I'm not excusing or apologizing for any of my entries. My life is heavy.

But I don't want everyone to leave running at full speed from Vagabond so I thought I'd interject with a bit of the good stuff.

If you haven't seen Monty Python's Meaning of Life, you must hurry your little asses to the nearest place of video and get it.

And now for something completely different:

MAÎTRE D:
Ah, good afternoon, sir, and how are we today?
MR. CREOSOTE:
Better.
MAÎTRE D:
Better?
MR. CREOSOTE:
Better get a bucket. I'm going to throw up.
MAÎTRE D:
Uh, Gaston! A bucket for monsieur. There you are, monsieur.
[goosh]
Merci, Gaston.
MR. CREOSOTE:
I haven't finished.
MAÎTRE D:
Oh! Pardon. Gaston! A thousand pardons, monsieur.
MR. CREOSOTE:
Uhh.
[goosh]
MAÎTRE D:
Now, zis afternoon, we have monsieur's favourite: ze jugged hare. Ze hare is very high, and ze sauce is very rich with truffles, anchovies, Grand Marnier, bacon, and cream. Thank you, Gaston.
MR. CREOSOTE:
There's still more.
MAÎTRE D:
Oh! Allow me. A new bucket for monsieur,...
[goosh]
...and ze cleaning woman,... and maintenant. Would monsieur care for an apéritif, or would he prefer to order straight away?
[goosh]
MR. CREOSOTE:
Oh.
MAÎTRE D:
Uh, today we have, uh, for appetizers: Excuse me. Mhmm. Uh, moules marinières, pâté de foie gras, beluga caviar, eggs Benedictine, tart de poireaux-- that's leek tart,-- frogs' legs amandine, or oeufs de caille Richard Shepherd-- c'est à dire, little quails' eggs on a bed of puréed mushroom. It's very delicate. Very subtle.
MR. CREOSOTE:
I'll have the lot.
MAÎTRE D:
A wise choice, monsieur. And now, how would you like it served? All, uh, mixed up togezer in a bucket?
MR. CREOSOTE:
Yeah,... with the eggs on top.
MAÎTRE D:
But of course, avec les oeufs frites.
MR. CREOSOTE:
Yeah, and don't skimp on the pâté.
MAÎTRE D:
Oh, monsieur, I assure you, just because it is mixed up wis all ze other things, we would not dream of giving you less than ze full amount. In fact, I will personally make sure you have a double helping. Maintenant quelque chose à boire. Something to drink, monsieur?
MR. CREOSOTE:
Yeah, I'll have six bottles of Château Latour Forty-five...
MAÎTRE D:
Forty-five.
MR. CREOSOTE:
...and a double Jeroboam of champagne.
MAÎTRE D:
Bon, and the usual brown ales?
MR. CREOSOTE:
Yeah. No, wait a minute. I think I can only manage six crates today.
MAÎTRE D:
[tut tut tut tut] I hope monsieur was not overdoing it last night.
MR. CREOSOTE:
Shut up!
MAÎTRE D:
D'accord. Ah! Ze new bucket and ze cleaning woman.
[goosh goosh goosh goosh]
Monsieur, is there something wrong with the food?
GUEST #4:
No, the food was excellent.
MAÎTRE D:
Perhaps you're not... happy with the service?
GUEST #4:
No, no. No complaints.
GUEST #4'S WIFE:
It's just that we have to go. I'm having rather a heavy period.
GUEST #3:
Hmm.
GUEST #3'S WIFE:
Mm mm.
GUEST #4:
And... we... have... a... train to catch.
MAÎTRE D:
Ah.
GUEST #4'S WIFE:
Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. We have a train to catch, and I don't want to start bleeding all over the seats. Ha, hm hm hm.
MAÎTRE D:
Madam?
GUEST #4:
Perhaps we should be going.
GUEST #4'S WIFE:
Oh.
MAÎTRE D:
Oh! Very well, monsieur. Thank you so much. So nice to see you, and I hope very much we will see you again very soon. Au revoir, monsieur.
[clunk]
Oh, dear. I have trodden in monsieur's bucket.
GUESTS:
[mumbling]
[slurp]
MAÎTRE D:
Another bucket for monsieur,...
[goosh]
...and perhaps a hose. M-hm.
MAX:
[retch]
MAX'S WIFE:
Oh, Max. Really!
GUEST #2:
[hiccup]

MR. CREOSOTE:
[groaning]
MAÎTRE D:
And finally, monsieur, a wafer-thin mint.
MR. CREOSOTE:
Nah.
MAÎTRE D:
Oh, sir, it's only a tiny, little, thin one.
MR. CREOSOTE:
No. Fuck off. I'm full.
MAÎTRE D:
Oh, sir. Hmm?
MR. CREOSOTE:
[groan]
MAÎTRE D:
It's only wafer thin.
MR. CREOSOTE:
Look. I couldn't eat another thing. I'm absolutely stuffed. Bugger off.
MAÎTRE D:
Oh, sir, just-- just one.
MR. CREOSOTE:
[groaning] All right. Just one.
MAÎTRE D:
Just the one, monsieur. Voilà.
MR. CREOSOTE:
[groaning]
MAÎTRE D:
Bon appétit.
MR. CREOSOTE:
[groaning]
[suspenseful music]
[music stops]
[crash]
[BOOM]
[goosh]
[goosh]
[mayhem]
MAÎTRE D:
Thank you, sir, and now, here's ze check.

(courtesy of This person)

Happy Birthday, my barista

Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Steph.

She doesn't read this but do send good vibes her way as she celebrates today and the whole weekend.

Group hug of good vibes.

But good one for you, S.

Violence

I've been in a violent mood the last few days. It's hard to express what's going on in my soul right now without one of you, if not all of you, fearing for outcomes.

I hate God. I wonder why he hates me so much. This punishment called my life. And why the hell does he have to make Em suffer. Perhaps the fuck that called CPS is right. Perhaps I'm an unfit mother. I question it all the time, don't I? You are all witness to that.

I think I feel violent because I have no control over anything. I'm suppose to sit here and wait for God to bless me with some miraculous reminder that I deserve so much and am a child of God. Is he trying to humble me, take everything away from me, remind me that I'm nothing without him?

I think sometimes it's working. I am nothing. I can't give anything of myself to anyone because I hate it all. I want to smash what I am against a window, breaking it, and embedding the jagged shards deep into my flesh.

I want to rip my hair out deep at the roots, pulling scalp away with it. And what I don't tear from my head, I want to douse with gasoline and set aflame.

I want to wrap a knotted rope around my throat, crushing my windpipe, and pulling tight until the pain is choking.

I want to mangle my fingers in fast-rotating blades until they are mere mince meat.

I want to disappear from this misery that God has imprisoned me in.

Why?

What did I do?

Was it my childhood self that angered God when I refused to play puppet to my mother's affairs?

Was it my adolescent self that tried to run away from angry parents and got as far as the apartment poolhouse?

Was it my twenty-one year old self that finally hit my mother back after so many years of punches?

Was it my thirty year old self that told my father that not informing me of his wedding plans was thoughtless especially since he let near strangers know about them?

What? What was it?

The anger that has continued to build inside since birth against the mistreatment of me? For not letting it go?

What the fuck am I suppose to do to change it?

WHY?! What did my mother do to erase all her ills to be so fucking blessed? And my father? Did he and my mother offer a sacrifice to this almighty God of ours? Am I it?

I can't get a grip. I want to scream out and punish someone for this life of mine. I'm tired of prayers and thoughts and bullshit like that. HAS IT HELPED?! Tell me? Am I better off for praying, for your prayers?

Am I suppose to sacrifice something? I sure as hell won't sacrifice Em.

Am I suppose to not be angry? How can someone not be angry? It's only getting worse. I'm suppose to be passive and let this happen? Smile and thank God for life...what life?

I'm tired. I really am. If I didn't fucking care, I would have given up. I would have slashed my wrists. I would have swallowed the pills. I would have driven off the bridge. I would have used the gun. BUT I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP! I'm angry.

Do you think that people who scream this fucking loud don't want to live? Do you think that most of the people who commit suicide didn't want to live? THAT'S BULLSHIT! FUCKING BULLSHIT!!! People who mourn and cry and scream and get angry want to live. They want life. They just want to have life in their hands. Not the fading in and out that this kind of misery gives. This life I live. This body I have. This mind and soul, and heart...they are worse than death and hell.

All that I am is questioned.

I talk to God every day. I plead with him. I beg. I try to relinquish my sorrows and worries and anxieties and fears and anger...to him. I've given him my joy. I thank him for my day.

But where is he?

I have no control. And it makes me angry. I abuse myself because of it. I should be better. I should be a success. I should be somewhere else in my life...at a different point.

But I'm here. I'm nowhere.

And I'm angry. I'm so mad at everyone who seems to be further ahead and only looks behind to say "I'm here for you. I'm praying for you. You're a good person. You should...and...try...."

FUCK!!

FUCK!!

FUCK!!

It's not going to stop, is it?

What can you do for me? Fix this. Take some of this off my shoulders. Get pass my "No, I'm ok" and my "I don't need anything" or my "I'm fine." Get pass that and do something. I don't know what to give you. I don't know what I need but I need it soon. I'm losing.

I'm suffering a slow death. I'm drowning and I refuse to let Em go down with me. I fear she will be what's taken from me next.

God hates me. And I hate him.

Isolated

Hello. In case you've forgotten who I am, I'm Naomi.

Man! I miss my online time. I'm jonesing for all my friends and the blogosphere. I'm miserable. (Again, I know I'm a bit dramatic but it's how I feel.)

I lost my internet days ago, and finally the phone has been temporarily disconnected as of this morning. It sucks. BLAH!! I seriously need to find myself a sugar daddy. At this point, a sugar mama would be good too.

I'm sitting here at the public library trying my best to enjoy my what little time I can have online. The chick at Lab Computer 1 is bugging the hell out of me with computer questions. "Um, excuse me but I don't work here. I'm trying to get what computer time I can in. LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

So, I'm trying to read everyone's blog and seriously feel this overwhelming pressure in my head. I think it's going to explode from the overload. I feel so disconnected from everyone. I've got a million emails to write....so it feels...and I'm suppose to get off the computer in less than an hour. AGGGGHHHHH!!!

...

Ok, moving on.

I've had a couple of Workfare days under my belt. The site is absolutely boring. I sit in the overheated mailroom answering phones. I either a)put them on hold or b)give them a phone number to call. That's it. I spend more time twiddling my thumbs.

I really need a job. DESPARATELY! I wonder how I can get into hooking.

haha...That's a joke. Don't call CPS on me. hee hee

My sis and nephews came into town this weekend. As usual, it was fantastic to spend time with them. We went to the beach on Saturday. Sun and surf. I love the beach. That evening, Em and I watched the boys while Jenn went to the casinos with Mrs. Devine in Mississippi. Zavier and Linkin spent the night with us. My child is completely in love with her cousins.

Abrupt change of subject: Life is ok. I'm not feeling as down as I have in the past but the severe lack of money is very upsetting. I feel I'm really losing my identity and my joy because of money. I think I may have stated this before but I really hate money. I'm not worshipping it but money definitely has become a golden idol in my life. So much time spent thinking about not having it, what things I'm losing because of it, how I can find some to just scrape by, all that jolly rot.

I'm still putting in applications. I returned one yesterday to a veterinary hospital. I know I'm obsessing on this but how am I suppose to get call backs for interviews if I have no phone due to my lack of funds (see, what I'm talking about? Golden Idol). People, bit of advice...horde as much money as possible for those horrible rainy days. It's not a joke. I know it's easier said than done. I was never able to save anything because as soon as something was in my savings account, some miserable circumstance would occur and deplete my funds. BUT if you can... SAVE, SAVE, SAVE!

Aside from money and stresses, life is pretty quiet. We think Sophie, one of our cats, is pregnant. I'm not happy with the thought. If she is, all the kittens will have to have homes. I dread the idea of taking them to the shelter; but if a free kitten can't find a home, I must do what I can. I am a strong believer in spaying and neutering our domesticated animals. I don't like overpopulation and euthanizing them is a horrible thought. Unfortunately (here comes the ugly horned beast again) I had no funds to spay my cats when I got them nearly a year ago. AND Sophie got out one evening a couple weeks ago and didn't return until the next day. So, I pray she isn't pregnant but there is more than a good possibility that she is.

Emma's last day of school is Friday, and she is thrilled. Hopefully, this summer will be as thrilling as she hopes.

God, I miss you all so much. I don't do well with no means of communication.

sigh.....

Ok, I'm rambling and would continue to do so if I let myself. I need to post this before I'm booted from the computer. If I could, I would squeeze each one of you to me and kiss and hug you and inhale your essences. I hope you haven't forgotten me.

Thursday, thus far

Today feels like a good day so far. I sense a tremendous amount of energy swirling around me and within me. Have had horrible dreams the last few days as usual but emotionally I feel a surge of greatness flowing at the cellular level.

It's a good feeling.

Fucking A!

When You Can't Breathe

There is no doubt that I am overwhelmed with my life especially the difficulties. I can't focus on any particular thing to address because everything is of grave importance; and I'm suppose to be perfect (in my mind's eye) and have no problems.

Needless to say, I lay down and give up. I let the depression wash over me. I let the self-doubt and self-hate consume me. I let the difficulties become my excuse to give up. The blankets of darkness suffocate me; I forget to breathe.

I have down fairly well with some of my coping skills. I'm still trying to trash some of the negative ones and adopt healthier ones. Being Mental Health May, I thought I'd share some of them. They are ones you've heard of before, I'm sure. But it doesn't help to repeat them.

We all become overwhelmed, whether or not you have a mental health issue. We need reminders to breathe.

On your worst feeling day, dress your best. Do it Julia Childs' style meaning make a presentation of yourself. It may not necessarily change your mood, but it does help. No, it's not good to always rely on the opinion of others but that ego stroking isn't always a bad thing. We all need that boost of esteem now and then. Dress opposite to what you feel and you will get compliments that may help ease you out of the blues.

When angry or frustrated, don't clench your teeth. This is very difficult for me. I will catch myself doing it in my sleep. I was grinding my teeth for a period of time. When your tensing up, open your mouth wide. For some reason, I've discovered it relaxes me. It could be that I look like a fool standing in a room or at my desk with my mouth WIDE open. Also, widening your mouth brings about a yawn which also helps relax you.

Write. You don't have to be a gifted writer. You don't have to be a great speller. But writing or doodling helps your brain open up. This especially helps when you are anxious or restless. If you start off with simple doodles like shapes or curves, it will open the floodgates. Occupying and focusing your mind helps you put things in an order. I think it helps you organize your thoughts. You can also daydream and relax. Just take tool in hand and unleash what's tying your emotions up.

Do the opposite of what you want. When I'm depressed, I only want to lie on the couch with my entire body save my nose covered up. I want to lock my doors, turn out the lights and forget the world. I want to sleep and never wake. This one is hard for me. I have to force myself to get showered. I have to force myself to drive somewhere away from my home. I do what feels safe. I've spent quite a bit of time at the cafe visiting Steph. But I'm out of the house. It's a step. If I can do this one step, I'll work myself up to others.

Get active. Now, I'm not very active. I like to be but I tend to get stuck in an inanimate state. BUT getting active doesn't necessarily mean running a marathon. When I was younger, I threw things. It's not the most mature way to respond, but sometimes it was the only way to express how I felt. I have a kumquat tree that has the best things to send speeding at a fence. AND I've given in to throwing breakables at the kitchen floor. Many glasses have gone to the dumpter grave because of frustration. I don't condone harming any living thing. Getting physical helps. It really does. Dance, jump, swim, walk, throw, crunch, break, move. Get the adrenalin flowing. Give yourself an endorphin rush.

Give yourself an orgasm, whether with a partner or alone. Orgasms are natural relaxers and mood boosters. It helps you fall asleep. It helps alleviate headaches. It helps relax the muscles you didn't know were tense.

Compliment someone. If you're capable of complimenting yourself, fantastic. But it's amazing how much you feel better when you compliment other people especially when the compliments are sincere and totally unexpected.

Breathe. Em knows this one really well. I'll say it a thousand times. Breathe in through your nose. Hold a couple of seconds. Release slowly through your mouth. Forget everything for those moments of intentional, focused breathing. Unless you are trying to cut the red wire before the bomb's timer runs out in three seconds, things can wait for a minute of breathing.

Carry around something fun from your childhood. Yo-yo, stickers, a stamper, bubbles, a comic book, slinky, Play-Do, anything superflous and non-practical and fun. Give yourself a break from the stresses of responsibility and adulthood and serious stuff. Even if you don't touch it every day, having it with you as a way to escape and run to for permission to be 'fun' gives you a quiet freedom. It's a reminder that it's ok not to have all the answers or that you stumbled along the path. If you don't have something now, most of those playthings cost less than five dollars....or just make a paper airplane....or play cat's cradle....or braid your hair like Pippy Longstockings...or play paper football....or perfect your British/New York/French/Pirate accent. Be free. Adulthood is not going anywhere. It will wait.

Workfare

Tomorrow I have an appointment with a Workfare counselor for working.

Where there is excitement and possibility in this, I'm just a wee bit pissed. You're going to think that I'm some lazy fuck that doesn't like to work but honestly, that isn't me. There are just some problems with what I'm about to embark on.

Florida has stipulations for its welfare programs. You don't get anything for free. I am currently getting foodstamps and Medicaid for Emmaline and myself. And to remain eligible for food stamps, I have to do one of two things: 1)work or 2) participate in the workfare program.

This is how the workfare program operates. The dollar amount of your monthly foodstamps is divided by $5.15 which I'm assuming is minimum wage (I don't know anymore. I haven't made minimum wage in a loooong time). The resulting number is the amount of hours you have to put into the workfare program a month. When I meet with my counselor, I will choose a worksite to perform my hours. I will not get paid for said hours. My foodstamps serves as payment. I work or I don't get my foodstamps.

There is no problem with the program in theory. I think it's a good way for people to gains skills, learn responsibility, and network. HOWEVER, Emma gets out of school next Friday for summer vacation. I have no real support system here that allows me the comfort of asking people to watch her while I work. WHICH MEANS....I have to find daycare for Em. And to place her in daycare means I have to pay. BUT I have no income. At this moment, give or take fifty cents, I have approximately $10.50 (all but one dollar is in rolled pennies).

There are exemptions for the workfare program. Medical excuse, school age teenager, caretaker of an ill person, age 65 or older, or primary caretaker of a child under the age of 6 years old.

Medically I could get an excuse if I wanted to play the bipolar card. I really don't want to. Besides, I would have to pay my p-doc fifty or so dollars to complete the medical form. AND I'm not allowed to schedule any more appointments with him until I pay the amount I owe the practice (nearly $200). Did I mention I have about $10.50 in pennies?

The second way to get out of this is to have a job that brings in at least $155 (rounding here) weekly....the equivalent of working about 30 hours at minimum wage. Unless I find a job by tomorrow morning, that's not going to happen. I will eventually get a job (I pray) so I can withdraw from the program.

The thing about public assistance...I have no idea how people cheat the system. You work, though still desparately struggling, you make too much money to get assistance. You don't work and you have to go through an infinite number of hoops for help.

Florida doesn't joke about things here. I think the *ahem* (small tree like plants that starts with a B and rhymes with mushes) like fucking people from behind without the Vaseline. Ok, that's a bit harsh. (Incidentally, if I disappear and my body is found in the wetlands in S. Florida...I blame the government puppets mentioned in this post. Is having a negative opinion (remember, I say OPINION) about the man with his feeble finger on the button and all his kin constitute as treason?)

Anyway....joking aside (I'm joking, secret agent guys who read the net like the kind big brothers you are), I'm frustrated. Yes, I'm moving at a damn snail's pace in getting my fucking psyche fixed. IT'S FUCKING HARD!!! I've been bandaging my wounds thinking the superficial attention will solve the problems. I'm cracking. I'm falling apart and really need some support.

Blah! Whatever.

Ok. So, tomorrow I'm off to see a man about a non-paying job. I'm going to lay everything on the line and see what I can do about my situation. I can't leave Em alone. She's not ready. The thought scars (no, not scare) me.

DAMN FUCKING LIFE!!!

all's quiet on the western front

My life feels like a war zone at times. I know...'bit dramatic, Naomi.'

Well, pfbbbt!

I'll probably be more quiet than usual because my life sucks and I don't want to talk about it...that and my I lose phone and internet service this week. I'll have to drag myself to the library for my online fix; and frankly, I don't think the 1/8 tank of gas is going to get me any further than the end of my street.

STUPID ASS LIFE!!!

I'm around. I'm just going to be slightly invisble.

Two and one concludes

1. True. One Memphis February, my friend and I headed downtown to Beale Street for the annual Zydeco festival. We walked about having drinks and eating crawfish. We listened to a few bands playing in the clubs on Beale and then headed into the Center for Southern Folklore (when it was still on Beale). We were sitting at the bar when a zydeco band for Louisiana started playing and they were fabulous. During one of its breaks, the lead headed our way, then he grabbed my hand and led me onstage. He put the rub-board on me; and before a large room full of people, I played with the band. It was gooooood fun.

Incidentally, that was the night I received some fabulous beads for posing with my *ahem* boobies. :-)

2. False. That was one of my cousins. She and another cousin stayed with my family one summer when we lived in Indianapolis. She wanted to learn to dive and I was trying to teach her. Unfortunately, she dove to deep in the shallow end and scraped her face from her forehead to her chin. It was an ugly sight, and I honestly think she was more embarrassed than hurt. She never cried (she was about twelve) but she was pissed.

3. True. I met a man by accident and we talked via phone for several weeks. We hadn't met face to face and finally planned on doing so. We were suppose to meet at a softball game but he stood me up. So, a couple of days later we agreed to meet in the parking lot of a large department store at the mall. Crowded parking lot in the middle of the day. I got there before him and made sure I parked among lots of cars. When he showed up, I was first amazed at what he looked like. Of course, nothing what I expected but hey...looks aren't everything and I did want to get to know him. I wasn't comfortable going anywhere with him because that would guarantee a couple of hours with someone and wasn't sure if things would go smoothly. So, we sat and talked....stupidly, I agreed to sit in my car with him. After a couple of minutes of dull conversation, he whips out his erect penis and starts to masturbate. Now, what do you do in an instance like that? I wasn't as assertive as I am now so I turned my head and was a bit shocked, not saying anything. Not too much after the initial shock, I told him that I wasn't comfortable. He tucked himself back in, got out of the car, and that was that. The next day he called and I told him that I wasn't interested. Never bothered me again.

Two and one

We're playing a game at PlanetThoughtful and thought it may be fun here as well. If you'd rather, play at PT, then head on over. You'd have to become a member but the community is fantastic. and Murray is an excellent person (take in mind that he is on sabbatical at the moment).

Okay....for the game which I'm not stealing from anyone in particular because this is something I've played since I was a teenager, the directions are simple.

Directions: You have to post three things about you. Two have to be true and one has to be false. The others have to guess which is false. That's it. You decide what you want to post. The fun thing about this is that you can throw those unbelievable truths in there that noone would ever think are true. Just depends how you want to stump us. After a couple of guesses are made, you can reveal the correct answer and if you want you can go into more detail about the truths.

Feel free to start your own in your blog. This is one of the greatest icebreakers. I'd love a trackback, just to see whose in.

Here's mine....
1) I played with a zydeco band once.

2) When I was first learning to dive, I dove into a shallow pool and scraped my forehead really bad on the bottom leaving a nasty scab for the rest of the summer.

3) After weeks of phone conversation to get to know this man, we met in a public parking lot where he proceeded to masturbate in my car.

Cousins

Why my kid is the greatest kid.

In the early years of elementary school, children are taught to write essays and such based on the main idea, three details, and conclusion set-up. They are given a prompts to get them started.

Now Emmaline is a FANTASTIC writer. I've been told since my young school days that I'm a great writer; but if I had the talent of my daughter early on...man, I'd be a best sellers' author by now. Em just amazes me...infinitely. Once she tailors her craft, she will be astounding the world with her words.

I think it's in her details and her vocabulary. They seem so wise and older. And there is so much personality in her stories. They don't just stop at the required. She's humorous. She's introspective and observant. Her tales hold so much of her in them.

Ok....I want to share something from last September that was written about me. I'm being completely self-indulgent in posting this but hey, this is my blog. We received all the paperwork from the year yesterday since school is ending in two weeks. I was looking through the lot and found this and it brought the weepy, sentimental bit out. Take into account that this was written a month after school started last year. Her writing skills have developed, and are still developing, since then.

My mom is a special person in my life.

My mom is special to me because she plays family game night. We play all sorts of games. Sometimes we play playstation.

My mom is special to me because she is the best cook in the world. She cooks everything. She could cook a bug, and it would taste good.

My mom is special to me because she took me to Memphis, Tennessee to see my cousins. We went to dinner to celebrate a birthday.

Now, I told you who the special person in my life is.

...and this is why my kid is the greatest kid.

release

i've been feeling abandoned and ignored today

leads to paranoia and self-doubt

ends in silent violence of wanting to destroy things

um......yeah

Mrs. H

I don't want to go into any details to respect my friend and her family. I only write this to get the community I've discovered through this blog to pray for a woman who means a lot to Emma and me. At least once today, please pray for Carrie's mom and her family (please don't be mad, Care).

Carrie's family means a great deal to me. I've known Carrie since I was eighteen/nineteen and just absolutely love her. She is my greatest friend. And her family? I adore and love them dearly. With the H family, one truly discovers what family means. The love and concern and respect that flows between them is an amazing bond that I feel privileged to witness and interact with. And I feel blessed that they have cheefully accepted Em and I into their lives.

So, please...take a moment to have Mrs. H on your hearts. Vibes of good health and compassionate sent her way.

Thank you.

The Face of Bipolar

Dick Cavett

Maurice Bernard

Rosemary Clooney

Tim Burton, Robert Frost, Marilyn Monroe, Napoleon, Margot Kidder, Abraham Lincoln, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Cary Grant, Francis Ford Coppola, Buzz Aldrin, Hans Christian Andersen and . . .

Tracy Ullman, Winston Churchill, Mark Twain, Georgia O'Keeffe, Robin Williams, and . . .

Vivien Leigh, John Daly, Larry Flynt, Axl Rose, Luther Wright, and . . .

Golden Brown by The Stranglers

Heard Golden Brown in passing today. I'm sad.

Golden brown
texture like sun

Lays me down
with my mind she runs

Throughout the night
no need to fight

Never a frown
with golden brown.
Ev'ry time
just like the last

On her ship tied to the mast

To distant lands
takes both my hands

Never a frown
with golden brown.
Golden brown
finer temptress

Through the age she's heading west.
From far away
stays for a day

Never a frown
with golden brown.
Never a frown with golden brown

Never a frown with golden brown
. . .

Dark o'clock

Note the posting time.

Been fully awake since 2 a.m.

Went to bed after Carson Daly went off...what is that...1 am?

Every creature in the house is sleeping. Emma is in her bed. My perverse cats are in their basket. Baby bird is in its nest of terry cloth and well, nest.

But me? I'm awake. I'm tired but awake.

Speaking of dark o'clock...my father says that. He is a retired Marine and would be waking up about now when he was active Corps. He woke us up at 5 a.m. every morning in a signature way. He would put his boot-covered foot on the end of our beds and bounce the mattresses. "Wake up," he'd shout (not really shout but Marines who were drill instructors really have only one loud voice and every theatrical person are envious of its resonance, its forte). "It's dark o'clock."

I hate that friggin saying.

Loving...

...my Iced Tea Pot by Mr. Coffee. Don't get me wrong. I love sun tea. Just a brilliant way to make tea but when it's nearly midnight and you are jonesing for some sweet tea, Mr. Coffee becomes your best friend.

...Conan O'Brien. I've been watching him from his first show with Andy Richter and guests that no one heard of. He is the funniest man in late night. When I was younger, I watched Dave Letterman and I still like the guy but Conan is just fucking POT ROASTING brilliant. Leno just gets on my last freakin nerve. The only good things about Leno are Headlines and the guests...nothing to do with Leno who is nails-on-the-board annoying. Conan...YUMMY GOODNESS! He's brilliant, I tell you.

Childhood Depression Awareness Day

Taken from NMHA site

ALEXANDRIA, Va. (April 28, 2004) On May 4, Childhood Depression Awareness Day, thousands of children, families, physicians and advocates will be working in communities nationwide to get the word out that childhood depression is real, common and treatable.

“Depression affects as many as one in every 33 children and one in eight adolescents but less than a third receive appropriate care,” says Michael Faenza, MSSW, president and CEO of the National Mental Health Association. “By failing to provide services for children with mental health problems, we jeopardize their social and academic development and put them at risk for more serious problems down the line.”

Consequences of untreated depression can include social isolation, difficulties at home and school, and an increased risk of suicide. The symptoms of depression may look different in youth than in adults, and as a result, are often overlooked or misunderstood.

Warning signs of depression in a child or adolescent include:

* Sad, hopeless or irritable feelings
* Falling behind in school or earning lower grades
* Losing interest in friends or activities usually enjoyed
* Avoiding people; wanting to be alone all of the time
* Talking about suicide or death
* Hurting other people or animals; damaging property
* Major changes in eating or sleeping habits

Once a child experiences an episode of depression, he or she is at risk of having another episode within the next five years. Promoting mental health awareness and knowing the warning signs of mental health problems are essential to improving and saving young people who may be risk for depression and other mental illnesses.

Childhood Depression Awareness Day was established in 1997 by a mother whose child had depression. Experts on childhood depression and other children’s mental health issues are available for telephone interviews throughout May is Mental Health Month.

St. Francis

So, Em and I went to visit Steph at the cafe today. We were in our last minutes there when Em came in from the outdoor patio talking about a dead bird on the bench. Steph and I went out there and saw the poor thing...a baby bird at that. We don't know how it got there because no tree was directly over the bench for the mother to push it out. And the closest nest was a good ten feet away. As a matter of fact, on Friday James (Steph's boyfriend) and I spied on a nest in a tall bush with baby birds in it. I have a feeling the dead baby was from that nest.

Walking around the courtyard, we discovered another baby bird, alive under that bush. This one I knew was somehow thrown from its nest but it was alive and opening its mouth looking for food. Looking inside the nest made beautifully within the branches, I found it empty.

I'm very much for allowing animals to live the course set out for them. Sometimes you can't help or interfer with mother nature. It upsets the balance. I'm not cruel. I will go out of my way to help a stray make it to an animal shelter..I've even taken in a couple. I will stop my car and move a turtle to the curb instead of allowing it to cross dangerously through an intersection. AND yes, I have tried to save a baby bird before.

Years ago in Memphis, the birds always made their nests in the siding above my sliding door. You could hear them chirping at each feeding and hear the mother scramble about inside the home she had made. Nest materials overflowed to the outside giving a tell tale sign that new lives were hatching within. One day, those many years ago, Emma and I walked onto the patio and discovered a baby bird lying on the cement. It was still alive but I could tell it was not doing well. It was no surprise to see eggs smashed upon the concrete with the yolk dried or even the remains of a hatchling. But this babe was still breathing.

I did what I felt compelled to do. I gathered it up with Emma excitedly besides me. I put it in a box with old clean rags and we drove to the pet store. I bought baby bird formula and a syringe. When I fed the little thing, it greedily swallowed the nourishment. A good sign, so I thought. It fed a few more times and actually seemed ok.

I don't think it survived the night. We buried it in the ground where the apartment complex's summer gardens would be. No sadness. No regrets. Nature takes its course.

Seeing a baby bird sitting beneath a tree brings up a dilemma. Should it be left alone? It wasn't possible that the bird would be fed. It wasn't in its nest, which was empty and surely abandoned, and mother birds can't just pick it up and pop it back into its homes. Leaving it there would lead to inevitable death within hours especially with the chilly evenings Pensacola has had the last few days. The baby bird has feathers but almost none on its underbelly and none beneath its wings.

We walked around the courtyard looking for the sign of another baby and were nearly attacked by a pair of cardinals that were watching its young learn to fly. More birds in the area. These babies were well covered in their feathers, and they were hopping and flapping their wings in an effort to escape our parading. They were healthy.

No other small baby. Steph, Em, Rebecca (another cafe employee) and I gathered around the bush. I still didn't know what I would do. Soon a small crowd of hospital employees were gathered near the inside of the windows facing the courtyard.

It was decided.

A small baby bird sits in my house in its nest that was carefully removed from the tree. It chirped the entire drive home, opening its beak for sustenance. It turned its head with eyes wide open to face us when Em and I spoke to each other. It has eaten three times not because I've put the food to its beak but because it has cried for attention. It has slept. It has opened its eyes and looked around in interest.

I will do what I can. I promise it will have a full belly and a warm nest. All else is out of my hands.

...

St Francis of Assisi is the patron saint of animals. Every year on October 4th, the Catholic Church sets aside a mass for the blessing of pets. It's a marvelous sight to see people bring in the variety of animals to be blessed by the priests. All are welcome...snakes, llamas, lizards, rabbits as well as dogs and cats. None are turned away.

HUMPF

For the purpose of not seeming like a cursing fool, POT ROAST will replace the obvious word of my choice.

ahem.

For the POT ROASTING love of God, I don't understand why the POT ROAST a certain individual in the lives of many has POT ROASTING seemingly vanished from the POT ROASTING face of this earth. I've tried to be a POT ROASTING friend and put myself in the POT ROASTING proverbial shoes of said person.

It's POT ROASTING frustrating to be a friend and can't do POT ROAST about it. I'm POT ROASTING worried. I've let my concern be known. I love the POT ROASTING fool and feel I'm just twiddling my POT ROASTING thumbs. I know we all have POT ROASTING separate lives but POT ROAST! I mean...what the POT ROAST am I to do?!

The kind of friend I am means that I don't like to sit the POT ROAST around doing nothing. I have this need to help...and yes, I admit...to be heard.

POT ROAST!!!

I worry....a lot. AND if the POT ROAST would just see that my POT ROASTING hand is extended to help, perhaps things would be POT ROASTING better.

DAMN POT ROASTING POT ROAST!!!

Am I here?

I feel imaginary today.

My nerve receptors are like a live utility wire dancing on the street in a dazzling electic display. The restlessness in them make me feel like I'm an unstable element with an odd number of electrons. I'm hypersensitive to this reality, and this makes me feel I'm dreaming.

I need to drain myself. I feel I'm going to overload and short circuit. My stomach is queasy. My legs are bouncing. My heartbeat is thumping loudly in my throat like a canon releasing its ammunition. My brain feels vacant, and at the same time I feel this pressure to describe everything going on within it.

I don't feel real.

I feel I could suddenly create magic at my will, conjuring my desires with the graceful flow of my fingertips through the air. I feel I could walk into a room and see the invisible. I feel tied more to the unknown today than to my reality.

I'm not here.

Paranoia

I have moments of severe paranoia that scare me.

I've gone to church only to leave within five minutes of the mass starting because I could tell everyone was staring at me and whispering behind my back. I would have to swallow the yelling voice in my mind before it verbalized itself. I wanted to scream at all those people sitting before me that were friends but at that those moments I could have sworn they were all against me. Instead I would twist my hands and stroke my brows while I squirmed in my seat. I would hold out for as long as I could in that hellish state and then I would leave. I would rush to my car as quickly as I could. I would start the car and speed away, running from all the hate I felt in the room.

I've felt the crushing pressure of the paranoia on the roads when driving, feeling that all the other cars are within inches of my side doors. I sense and see them crossing the lines into my space. My knuckles go that cliche white as I grip the wheel. The air becomes thinner making it difficult to breathe. I would feel as the other drivers are trying to run me over. I become hypersensitive to car noises; and vehicles seem to grow ten times their normal sizes.

Today my paranoia was focused on my brother until he left.

It's irrational. It's telling of who I am. And I hate that it makes me diseased. I'm supposed to accept who I am in order to love myself.

I take care of my child as best I can. I'm doing damn well considering...but I can't erase who I am. God, I wish I could at times. I can't make things work as they are supposed to by sheer will. I can't wake up from these moments and say "This is ridiculous. Just stop that, Naomi! These are just fictitious emotions. Be a grown up! Stop over reacting and get over it!" I wish I could. I really do.

Parts of me threaten my happiness and the rest of my life. Who I am threatens how I move through this world. And according to certain people, who I am threatens my daughter's welfare.

If I could, I'd be fixed by now. I really, truly would.

Happenings

I dreamt of angels all night long last night. It was one particularly, a female. I woke up several times from my dreams of ill but each time I surrendered to Morpheus' spell, she came again. The dreams were not pleasant but she was. She was hope and calm among all the chaos in my sleep.

My brother came over today bearing mangoes. He took my car for repairs. Totally unexpected. I only asked for a repair of my blown tire. He replaced the front two, did a tune-up, and fixed the a/c. I have a feeling the tires didn't come out of his pocket.

He painted the spare room and will do another coat tomorrow. Soon the spare will be finished and ready for my visitors this summer. Hooray! Now I just need to get a job so I can entertain said visitors. Eh.

I'm cleaning slowly and surely and steadily.

Tonight...watching 10.5 on NBC. I've been waiting for it. I love movies where humans have to resort to instinct. Disaster movies. The "day after" films. I love them. I think I could survive.

Still feeling blah. Nothing severe. Interrupting sleep and duties.

More later.

Mrs. Devine

She likes to call and hang-up. She calls my house asking about my brother. What really just blows me away is when she'll call and tell me that she's sitting outside my house in her car.

I never know how long she's been there. But she'll call the house, tell me she's out there, and then start asking me questions about the house. That one word person that I become when not in a good mood? That's what I give her. I do it in the most pleasant of voices answering the questions relating to the house. Then she'll pause. She'll wait for me to say something. I hear in her silence so many things. I hear her silence baiting me to speak. But I don't. So, she'll ask the same questions she asked in the last two minutes. I'll answer again. Then she'll hang up. I can hear her start up her car or SUV, whichever she's driving for the day, and leave.

I get angry. I feel a sense of loss, but mostly I feel very angry.

Jessica and Boris

To start off Mental Health Month, I wanted to share a brother's perspective of his sister's bipolar. He and his family are surviving after Jessica killed herself a year ago. The pictures of her life and his view of the world with her in it is a lovely tribute to the playmate of his youth. The site may not give all the answers of what is bipolar or how to cure it, but it shows how lives are affected.

Catching a Darkness