Also -

Aug. 17th, 2017 05:23 pm
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it is sad to watch The Defenders trailer (I KNOW WHAT I AM DOING TOMORROW, WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF YA'LL MOTHERFUCKERS) and see so many Youtube comments asking who did the original song....
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For a house with two writers, pens can be awfully difficult to find. But I have four cats, meaning they are probably under the couch, the bed, the refrigerator, or some such other inaccessible place.

Londo Mollari struggling with the same issue, except with space roaches )

I stumbled onto a small solution to a small problem that was so obvious that I could have smacked myself for not realizing it sooner. Sometimes Jesse's and I's sleep schedules WILL match up, and we find ourselves waking up within an hour or two of each other. I often find what he watches when he gets up to be jarring. Loud music. Talk shows with laugh tracks. Vines videos. Things that rattle me so early in the morning.

And then I realized we have headphones. While I can't turn it up loud enough to drown out his noise (that'd be too much for me), I can at least put on things that I find soothing or comfortable to help cancel out what he listens to.

Granted, somedays this will mean having the headphones on almost all day, because a lot of what he watches is jarring to me. But hey, he's not the only one who is allowed to listen to what he wants to, all day, every day.

I don't think I'll ever understand the person who has to have SOMETHING on from the literal moment they get up to the moment they go to sleep (which is damn near everyone I know). Hell, the entire first week after I broke up with David, I didn't listen to a single song, a single tv show, play a single video game. That entire week was spent in pure silence.

I used to say that people were just probably afraid of silence - and maybe some are. But that's a pretentious statement for me to make, as if I am elevated above those who "need noise". It just may be that they don't NEED the silence.

Maybe their heads are already peacefully quiet and thus they don't need the extra quiet time like I do.

But not too much quiet time, I'm finding out. It's taken four trips to the psych wards, but I've discovered a trigger, a major one, to the destructive urges. Too much alone time, too much alone time in a quiet, dark apartment. When working, I had 2 or 3 hours of alone time a day and that was enough. With insomnia, that stretches out into 5, 6, or 7 hours of alone time in a dark and cold apartment.

So the goal is to work on finding the right sleeping schedule (ahahaha, I mean the right sleeping meds) to give me no more than 3 hours of alone time. I've also gotten the green light from Jesse to turn on a light in the morning to help cope with this trigger.

It's a studio apartment, so I've always tried to keep it dark when he sleeps. (There's no bedroom or living room for me to shut a door between him and I.) But if a light helps, he says, then it helps. So I turn on a light and the darkness - both literal and metaphorically - edges just a little further back into the shadows.

Weirdly enough, this is a trigger only in the mornings. I can handle vast amounts of alone time in the afternoons or evenings and come out the other side just fine. It's just in the mornings where it begins to take me to dangerous places.

Trigger work in general is another concept I must return to. It's been a long, long time since I've had to dive into that whole mess. One of the Group Therapists in the psych ward said that new trauma can create new triggers or else strengthen older triggers, something that I'd not really considered before.

Some of the triggers can be modified through environment, such as turning on lights in the morning or developing a sleep schedule that doesn't leave me dangling five hours before sunrise. Sometimes I have to learn how to let the housekeeping go for a couple of days. (This is EXCEPTIONALLY difficult for me, as an unkempt house can, by itself, lead to a full blown melt-down.) Or I have to grit my teeth and let Jesse do chores in what I consider "the wrong way" and instead be grateful that the chores are getting done at all. These are triggers that can be worked on pro-actively.

Others cannot and must simply be dealt with as they come up. I'm still sorting out which triggers are which. But I'm definitely recognizing their role into what cassette tape starts playing in my head and what to do to jam up the whole process altogether.

(And ahahaha, I said "cassette tape". Date yerself much, Teressa? AAHAHAHAHA!)

And JohnnyD, I found something last night. Something in one of my journals from 1999. I'm going to take a picture of it and write about it here soon, hopefully today. It's about a few things, but in the end, it was me begging you to believe in me and you telling me that you did.

We may have been young, but it saved my life then, and every time I come across it, it saves my life again.
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Self care check:

* Showered? Check.

* Taken meds? Check.

* Eaten? Check.

* Am working my way through a big-ass glass of ice water? Check.

* Looming task of the day? Picking up that damn kidney drug, of which the pharmacist was somehow able to run through my old insurance at 150$ instead of the $400 out of pocket cost.

This looms because it is only 6:43 AM and the pharmacy does not open until 8 AM. One would think this is an easy amount of time to slide through. It is not.

* Price of dignity in asking Pat for another huge chunk of money? Paid with regret, as always, especially as this week is rent week. (He pays his own rent, my rent, and his car payment this week.)

Same goes for my father, of whom I asked to pay my electric and internet bill.

* Household chores, such as setting up coffee, putting up dishes, organizing couch and counters, wiping down bathroom, taking out trash, and scooping litterboxes? Check.

* The likely price to be paid at the end of all this, come 8:30 AM when I return home? A day spent like yesterday, asleep most of the day and bitchy in the hour or two that I was awake.

* Attempting to cheer myself up by listening to pop music? (Keisha's wise-ass, ridiculous love of alteration being the choice of the morning.) Check.

I did manage a half-hour run through Mass Effect 3 yesterday. That's something cool. I'm renegading my way through it and am surprised that it doesn't always make Shepard a bastard.

I'm playing Male Shep, just to engage in the gay romance that was finally introduced in the third game. The Midwest can suck my dick.
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I managed a bath three days ago. It's time for another one. Here's hoping I can find it within myself to do so today.

And yep, Matrixx, that would be one thing if Jesse had planted a big, sloppy kiss on our friend, or if he had made flirty remarks to our friend. But our friend is obviously, outright straight. We respect that. No sexual remarks, either directly or indirectly, have ever such occurred, so the outbreak of homophobia towards us was extremely jarring. And saddening, as it hurt both of our feelings greatly.

Cinema, I am considering posting a letter to him explaining our separation. Whether or not it falls on deaf ears, well...that remains up to our friend. It will at least explain OUR silence.

And Radium, yeah, it still shocks me to run into people who have such archaic and (in the end) self-absorbed thoughts, as if gay or bisexual men are sexual predators who will lure people into a comfortable trust before they lay waste to someone's butthole. Being the Midwest, I shouldn't be surprised. And yet, time and time again, I am.

We are nearing our yearly run of re-watching Babylon 5. I have watched it at least once a year for the last 12 years. I always find something new to relate to, every time. I've waffled over the years, finding myself relating to G'kar and Londo to varying degrees at various times in my life.

I've decided that I don't want to be either of them.

Both of them were ruled by anger, grave calamities, and acceptance in difficult ways. G'kar, of course, comes to a much happier ending (though I couldn't handle waves of religious acolytes pounding at my door. I can barely handle maintenance knocking on my door.) Londo does find peace at the end, in the final books that deal with the Centauri Prime arc. But it is a peace that is like G'kar's, won only through a lifetime of loss and years of well-intended but ill-made decisions.

That is one of the beauties of science fiction and fantasy. It allows to ask and answer questions about our humanity that can only be done so when dealing with non-human characters.

That show, for being over 20 years old now, is still illuminating for me.

I don't know what else to write. I am so tired. I got over 12 hours of sleep yesterday and it still wasn't enough. I remember the last time I felt truly rested - and it took five solid days of sleep to get there. Even then, the "restful" feeling lasted a single day and then WHAMMO, I was back to being utterly exhausted no matter what. Five straight days of sleep is not something I can afford very often, if rarely at all.

The words "chronic fatigue" does not even begin to do justice to what this phenomenon really does to a person.
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* DON'T LIKE: That a wasp flying particularly close to me turns me into the sassy black woman stereotype.

* DO LIKE: The new ambient sound that Jesse found for us to sleep to instead of the rain sound we'd previously been using. It's simply a single tone, a low rumbling. It's meant to mimic the sound of a spaceship engine. I fall asleep imagining myself in the crew quarters of The Normandy.

* NOT SURE IF I WILL LIKE: Having to fall in love with a ton of new people, new ships, and new races on Mass Effect 4: Andromeda. It's a lot of work. But silly and dangerous as it may be, I TRUST Bioware. I hope I find myself as emotionally invested in the new game as I did in my previous, beloved Mass Effect games.

* DO LIKE: How excited I am to watch Jesse finish playing the video game "Nier" (NO SPOILERS! Jesse reads comments sometimes and I don't want him to have it ruined.) I've wiki'd a few side quests for him and have come upon the main plot line, which looks FUCKING AWESOME. I've left a few threads untouched (like, seriously, what is the Shadowlord?), but overall, I'm very excited to see how the game presents the ending information.

* DON'T LIKE: People who refuse to play newer video games due to reasons such as "the newer games are too easy" or "they're too flashy". Puh-lease. Ever play "Dark Souls"? That game WANTS you to die. Relentlessly. No easy about it. And flashy? Ooooh noooez! People are embracing the power of new technology to create brighter, more complex and realistic (or unrealistic) worlds! WE SHALL HAVE NONE OF THIS WITCHERY, THOU OF THE PURE NINTENDO THUMB!

I'm not going to be that asshole who plays Final Fantasy VII 27 times and claims that nothing will ever beat Aerith dying. Even Tomb Raider these days has some seriously sob-worthy moments.

And non-hexagonal boobs. How in the world could you be against THAT?

* DO LIKE: My return, shaky as it is, to doing my nails. And a willingness to try out spring colors instead of just darker colors.

* DO LIKE: That I was able to have four, FOUR! jumbo sized, fried shrimp (all in the same meal!) and not have my stomach melt down from it.

* DO LIKE: Post whoring. Most days, at least.
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Jesse is playing a video game called "Kingdoms Of Amalur Reckoning. One of the races in the game are called the "Tuatha".

And the only thing I can think of every time that race is mentioned is that word is one of the words used in Willow's spell to bring Fin Raziel back to her human form.

That movie was made in 1988. That spell was repeated only 2 times in the whole movie. And the word "TOOWATHA" was only ONE FREAKING WORD out of that spell.

And that's the memory association I have. Granted, I've watched the film many times, but to find myself leaping out of bed and exclaiming to Jesse "THAT'S ONE OF THE WORDS THAT WILLOW USED IN HIS SPELLS!" just so clearly stamps NERD on my forehead.

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Ohhh geeeez. I hadn't realized AT ALL that THAT bullshit was what I was agreeing to. I'm already on DW and automatically cross posting to LJ, but LJ comments don't cross post onto DW.

And I can't lose all of the comments from you guys. I just can't. There are SO MANY TIMES that I'll go back years in my journal, read a comment, and go OMG I JUST GOT THAT!. It's a tool I can never give up.

I'll have to figure out a way to back all this up, since deleting my DW and just recopying the entire thing will take days and leave me to manually search for all my DW contacts. (DW is smart and always opens its doors for free when LJ has a major upset, but there's a long line piling up, I've heard).

That's what I've used in the past. It opens in Adobe Reader as a full PDF, comments and everything. I'm not sure if it's still a viable tool, though I'll find out later when I try to use it.

Livejournal is my home. I'll be here until they turn off the lights for good. But this is such an uncertain set of rules to be posting under that for the first time in 13 years, I'm wondering if I'll have to find a new home.

Like you said, Cinema - leave a back door wide open in case you have to flee screaming.

Besides, there's only ONE Federation that's ever been worthy of such a name. That name? Star Fleet. Go meet some Romulans and maybe, just maybe, I'll be happy to apply the word "federation" to a country.
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ER TRIP #5 (this week, at least)

Oh, and due to this being the 5th ER visit this week, (along with a 3 hour psych walk in and another 2 hour dr walk in, AND migraines AND nausea, all this week, I'd missed my dr's appt this morning.)

Maybe I'm a little overwhelmed? That just COULDN'T be possible, could it? No. Certainly not. Sick people are not allowed to be overwhelmed. There's just so much to do!)

So, what with the outcropping of unusual symptoms this week, I did the only other thing I could think of to do.

I went to the goddamn ER.

All labs come back as normal, as they always seem to lately. I tell them about the dangerous game I've been playing with my blood pressure meds, (taking too many, taking some that's not been prescribed to me) due to my BP staying between 175-185 unless I take all those unprescribed meds.

Their faces pucker in disapproval (of which I'd expected), but as my BP in the hospital was normal - I'd told them I had taken all those meds only hours earlier and thus it would read fine...well, I could also see THAT look. The look that says "Here's another one, exaggerating symptoms..."

I tell myself to breathe. That life is nothing more than one grand, cosmic joke and that I should get on and get in on the joke.

I leave with a new blood pressure medication, and after a great deal of begging, five days worth of pain meds.


I no longer have insurance. It was (OOOPS!) accidentally cancelled and will be reinstated within (unknown amount of time). My blood pressure meds are out of whack, I'm experiencing incredible pain, and most worrisome, the one kidney medication I'm on that is THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME ALIVE will now costs hundreds and hundreds of dollars.)

I can, of course, be reimbursed for the damn near thousand dollars I'll be spending on meds in the meantime.

Cuz that's what every sick person has in their back pocket. A whole grand, just taped up and ready for governmental, red-tape, fuck ups.

I decide that life is not a cosmic joke.

Life is an impediment.

But here's the bitch of it all...I fucking CARE if I live or die. I actually fucking CARE. So I can't go on a rampage and kill myself because goddamnit, been there, done that, got the fucking T-shirt.

And I'm supposed to be grateful for that, right? Like it's supposed to give me hope, a branch to hold onto in tough times?

Hell no. All it's doing is pissing me off right now because I couldn't get to suicidal if I tried.

I'm tired. I can't handle all the calls, all the visits, all the paperwork. I can't. I just can't. I don't even know if I have the ability to reach out for help concerning those things anymore. I'm just that fucking tired of it. Bones deep, blood aching, tired.

It's not just this thing this time. It's ALL THE THINGS ALL THE TIME lately. It's been one thing after another fucking thing for month after month after month after LIFETIME. Two, three complications? Bring it, bitch.

This? This never ending life or death game? FUCK IT. FUCK ALL THIS NOISE.

All I ever wanted was a quiet, boring little life and a good job. The Universe has deigned me unworthy of such a thing. Why? What did I ever do the universe? I am not Londo Mollari, goddamnit. But for whatever reason, my life is decades of struggle punctuated by a year or two in between of relative peace.

I want off this roller coaster. NOW. THIS FUCKING INSTANT.

But I won't be getting off this ride anytime soon. If I tried to kill myself, I'd just survive and wind up looking twice the fool.

Of course, if these lapses in insurance keep happening, this disease will kill me on its own. I'll be fucking dead and why? BECAUSE I AM FUCKING POOR.

I won't even get the satisfaction of giving the Universe the middle finger on my out.

And THAT will fucking piss me off.


Apr. 1st, 2017 05:31 pm
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* Jesse has kept true to my boundaries all these years. One of them, one the most important ones, is that I do not let people I've never met before into my home. And I usually prefer several meetings between unknown people before they are allowed here.

It frustrated him greatly at first. It likely still does. But he has always respected it. I am so grateful for that.

* My dreams keep throwing me back to the psych ward. Either I'm back in and arguing with staff about getting permission to leave for a few hours a day for a part time job, or I'm sharing hallucinations with other patients, or I'm stuck in never-ending hallways with no doors.

Makes total sense. It's still unnerving.

* The possibility of strokes had not occurred to me, Matrix. But the first hospitalization showed that I'd been smack dab in the middle of a mini-stroke for days. That is something for me to keep on the front burner, to watch out for. Thank you for bringing that up.

* Sometimes writing feels the most useless endeavor I have ever attempted. As if I've wasted the decades of practice instead of building something "normal". I know this is an extremely common feeling amongst writers. Artists in general, I would think.

But there's little else I have a talent for and NOTHING else I have trained myself so hard in. Not feeling well contributes to that and clashes with my need to write. There's no saying you can't learn new things, but it often feels like I'm just writing myself in circles.

* I'm actually glad I don't own a PS4 and have Mass Effect: Andromeda. It's something that I would wind up being so frustrated with. I've been eager and excited to play this game for YEARS now. Ridiculous frothing at the mouth kind of eager.

As ill as I've been, I wouldn't be able to play it right now. Writing on a computer still requires sunglasses in a dark room. Even with that, it still makes the room feel spinney. There's no way I could handle the twisting and turning that combat and level-running involves.

I watch others play video games (for unfathomable reasons, that's extremely comforting for me). But I'm often relegated to just listening to it, as watching it makes me nauseas enough to vomit.

Damn you, Bioware. Couldn't you have had the sense to put off the next release of my favorite game series until I stopped being sick?

* My father was able to get me a smart phone and put me on his plan. It's been so long since I've had a smartphone (well over a year now) that I practically forget how to use it. All the apps I once thought as of as dire necessity now seem extraneous. But it's unlimited text and call and save us so much money on phone cards. (Jesse still has a pay-by-the-minute burner phone).

* There's more to write. Always is. But even as I managed sleep for five hours earlier today, the nausea is overwhelming, even after eating what seems like a million pills for it. I don't know what else to do, so I'm going to lay back down and see if that helps.

It may or may not help. I'll have to put on my sleep mask to completely darken my vision. But at least I can take off my sunglasses.
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I awake to find myself grateful to have woken up at all. I think I screwed up my blood pressure medication yesterday, as I couldn't remember for the life of me which meds I'd taken when. It led me to stay up until 1 AM, obsessively checking my blood pressure.

I almost died over the whole low blood pressure thing. Messing up your BP meds can make for fatally low blood pressure. I'd say I was being paranoid, but I believe that paranoia is well warranted.

I had some really odd symptoms yesterday. I had a ringing in my ears that sounded as if something metallic were pinging on something else metallic. It's like that noise when Mario hits the cube and hears the sound of the gold coins being collected. (PING! I swear it was pinging.)

The headaches are beginning to be under control. But while the head pain was mostly gone, I am, again, struggling with nausea.

If it's not one thing, it's another. That can be so demoralizing. Either I've attempted suicide, or have pneumonia, or have so much water weight that my skin literally splits open and leaves open wounds, or my kidneys are failing, or it's hit my brain and I begin hallucinating, or my BP is wildly out of whack and almost kills me, or I'm dehydrated, or my meds are literally draining me down to nothing, or or or....

When does this run away train, filled with so many complications, get back on the tracks? When do I stop being so physically weak that a goddamn cold can land me in the hospital for weeks?

The water weight, while initially falling off at a rapid rate, is now coming BACK. There's been no recent - at least as far as two and a half weeks ago - hospital and oversaturation of fluids to have caused the regain. I am also itching like hell.

This leads me think my meds are somehow wrong (again), but the walk-in doctors can only do so much and my actual doctor appointment is four days away. Oi.

I was dropping things. Pretty much anything that went in my hands shortly went tumbling to the ground. Coffee. Pills. Notebooks. Pens. Cigarettes. Food. Dishes. I'm not a graceful person by any means. But it felt as if my hands were forgetting they were holding something and so it released whatever I was carrying.

I was dizzy and off-stable, tipping this way and that way everytime I tried to walk. I was giving thanks that the hallway to our bathroom is narrow, as it gives me something to lean on (okay, as of late, STUMBLE on) and sort of slide myself to the bathroom. I am even more drunk-stumbling THIS morning.

I was also experiencing extreme confusion. I pride myself on my vocabulary, but couldn't remember words for the life of me. My voice was slurred most of the day, I couldn't at all follow conversations, and I forgot how to do things like get dressed and use silverware. I kept mixing up my words. I re-edited my LJ, like, a thousand times trying to keep up with the missed and misused words. I finally just gave up on it and was like "They won't mind."

**I** mind. But it's good to know that you guys are not only smart enough to put together what I'm trying to say and that you understand cognitive dysfunction.

Funny, that. I can spend half an hour turning a shirt over and over, trying to put it on, only to find that I don't understand where my arms go or which side is intended to be worn outwards. But I can still remember how to ride a bike, which is far more complicated than not knowing if your shirt is inside or outside.

NERDNESS: It turns out bike-riding is subconscience memory. It's muscle memory, regular memory, and deep memory. (I got curious and asked Google if you could forget how to ride a bike.) It's a very assumptive cliche to state you can't forget things like riding a bike. But it turns out those memories are stored in three entirely different parts of your brain. It's pretty easy for your brain to retain at least ONE of those parts.

I'm very tired this morning. It's hard to explain to the difference when OTHERS say that they are tired and when I say I'm tired. Their advice (always well intended but always way off base) runs along the lines of "Take a short walk! It'll refresh you! or "Get a cup off coffee! The caffeine will wake you up"!

(1) There are times I can barely walk as it and (2) coffee and lupus don't play well together. I risk it enough with single morning cup of coffee, and always feel awful if I have any more. (Which I often do, because while I know it's bad for me, I fucking LOVE coffee.)

When **I** say I'm tired, I mean a tired so deep that driving becomes unsafe. When **I** say I'm tired, I mean that my eyes literally just fucking close and I am OUT, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. When **I** say I'm tired, I mean that I have literally lost the strength to talk. If I'm smart, I lay down before I get to that point.

But all the dr's appointments, and psych visits, calling various agencies concerning treatment, attempting spend at least a few hours a day with Jesse, errand running, housecleaning, and trying to piece together some shred of a social life means that I FUCKING HAVE to push myself well and far beyond the point of being "tired", usually for days in a row.

I pay for those days, usually FOR days, in misery. Every time.

And I am tired today. This means my nap will have to start sooner and likely last longer. I hate sleeping away so much of my life.

The body may be an amazing biological machine. It's also a prison you have no hope of escaping from.

Back to bed. Things will feel better when I wake up again. Hopefully. Lately, I'll lay down for some peaceful, not painful sleep due to the migraines, and wake up juuuust as the medication is wearing off and I'm back to being in pain. Sleep away the good hours because pain-free sleep is awesome, but miss out on my life because I'm sleeping so damn much.

Fun times.


Mar. 30th, 2017 05:02 pm
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ME: Oh man, I messed up on word tenses in my last post. Damnit. I always get that mixed up. The are/is context, I mean.

JESSE: What about it?

ME: Well, "are" is something you use in the current tense. "Is" can also be used current tense, but there are times when it's best used for PAST tenses, too. It's like how I sometimes have problems with my singular nouns to plural verbs. Basically, I've been mixing up my prepositions.

JESSE: I love having a girl who knows these things, but you do know that after about ten seconds of that explanation, you started to sound like the adults on a Charlie Brown movie?

ME: *laughing a bit* I'm of the school of thought that you can't break the rules without first knowing what the rules ARE.

This isn't completely true, of course. Due to a horrific home situation, Jesse had to drop out of High School and get his GED years later. He has no formal education in writing and yet, through not knowing the rules, it gives him this...creative freedom that others might not have.

He'd be in good company. Many of the greats didn't have a good education, if one at all.

Still, it was a relief to find that you CAN start a sentence with the word "And". You're just told not to in early education because teenagers often abuse the "And". This turns a three page paper into a Nietzschean, nearly one run-on sentence nightmare.

(I haate Nietzsche. I mean, I LOATHE that man. Not for his ideas, as pretentious as they were. I hate him for his writing, his habit of turning a ten word thought into a 500 word paragraph. The man may as well have fucking married the semi-colon and gotten on with it.)

Get to college and find out that YES, you CAN start a sentence with the word "And", so long as you do it right. Then they tell you how to do it right and WHAMMO, you can say "And" anytime you want to, even if it's at the beginning of a sentence.

Allow me a little literary rage towards some bad college teachers I've had.

* Fuck you, Mr. Brannon - the singular "they" DOES EXIST. Writing "his or her" in every sentence that deals with multiple people of unknown or unassumed genders is CLUNKY AS SHIT. And if you're not concerned about how clunky your writing is, you're not a good writer.

* Seriously whaaaat, Criminal Justice professor? You want FULL URL LINKS included in our papers? When was the last time you looked at an updated copy of MLA standards? Like, fucking 1997??!!!

* I know you are a fully educated woman, Miss English Professor at Brown Mackie. But goddamnit, full phrases such as 'majestic ability' and 'statue of beauty' ARE NOT synonyms.

Classes like those, I just sat in silence, did what they said, and allowed my ego about the English language to stiffen when I stepped out of the classroom. Being a writer, a good writer, is one of the world's most attractive things to me. Makes sense, given how sacred I consider the art.

So yeah, wordplay. Almost as important as foreplay.

Naaaah. They're on the same level.
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I just realized I greatly disapprove of Laura Croft's profession. She's a tomb raider. She raids tombs. She's a goddamn grave robber. I find this morally repugnant. Even as technically, the dead are dead and no longer have use for the things they were entombed with. STILL, I find it utterly reprehensible.

I've resolved this inner conflict by telling myself that surely she hands over a few things to museums or scientists for study.

Still. Grave robbing. Not cool, no matter how sexy you look doing it.
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Playing the tabletop RPG Eclipse Phase. I ripped my character off as Molly from Neuromancer. I'll bet Molly wouldn't have let the wolf (lupus) slow her down. She'da just gone "I got sharper claws. Bring it, bitch."

*out comes the 4 inch blades under her nails*
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(Attempting to distract myself, Jesse and I play Rayman Legends, a two player video game. The game allows you to revive a dead player by catching up to the other character.)

JESSE: Crap, I'm dead!

ME: It's okay, I'll wait and get you back in the game!

JESSE: No! Just keep going! Just finish the level!

ME: This ain't no Saving Private Ryan, huh?
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Okay, so that "touch" of depression this morning is turning into a black hole, complete with a star-destroying gravity well. I'm firing on all thrusters trying to stay out of it. Facebook. Funny youtube videos. Painting my nails.

It's just not working today. There's no rhyme or reason to it today. Physically, I feel good. Great, even. Mentally and emotionally?

It's like that episode where Sheridan takes the Whitestar into Jupiter's atmosphere to trap the Shadow ship, except I feel more like the Shadow ship than the Whitestar.

SHERIDAN: Alright Lennier, give me everything you got!

LENNIER: If I were holding anything back, I'd let you know.
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* How long do Cylons live without their resurrection ships? We know from the show they can be injured and killed, but they are still built as partial, much more advanced machinery than regular born humans. Can they get sick? Do they age?

* What number, exactly, is the Vorlon population? Lita says that there are few of them, and thus they took it hard when Kosh died on Babylon 5. If there are so few of them, are they worried about dying out?

Day 5 of Prednisone taper. I am now unable to keep anything down - but I AM sleeping later. 2:30 AM this morning. On one hand, my life has shrunk to forcing my body to keep the food down juuuuuust long enough for my medication to absorb, which is entirely miserable. On the OTHER hand, the reason for quitting the Prednisone is starting to work.

Or at least it did last night, so we'll keep going. Maybe. I know withdrawal symptoms are temporary. Just didn't figure on them being THIS strong. I don't know.

OR these could be not withdrawal symptoms, but my body responding to the loss of a medication it needs. Maybe my body needs the Prednisone and it's falling apart without it. I don't know.

I don't know and don't have any doctors to tell me. The discount and urgent care clinics don't have my history and won't be able to run the necessary labwork to find out, at least not fast enough. Urgent care clinics are like mini ER's and treat only immediate symptoms. Discount care clinics take weeks to get into, running even longer times due to the number of poor people trying to use them.

But I'll try.

I've also noticed a small, creeping muscle and joint soreness coming up. Very small, just enough to be noticed. Now I'm wondering if I AM beginning to experience that part of lupus and the Prednisone was treating it. We will see.

If that's the case, I'll go back on the Prednisone and find another way. Whacky sleep schedules and mental health issues are way easier to handle than pain.

I'm a wuss like that.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
Bart, you had said I had the luck of a cursed sailor. This led me to think what an actual cursed sailor would do to UNcurse himsef. This led to me to thinking I just needed to find the Pieces of Eight, toss them in the right chest in the right hidden island, in the moonlight (you can totally where this idea came from) and BAM, calm seas and busty wenches will flock to me for the remainder of my life.

But (1) The hospital won't let me and (2) Scurvy sucks. So as far as bad luck and the good luck that always seems to follow, I suppose the saying is "You will always remember this day as the day you ALMOST outsmarted lupus!

If only.

Time for another nap, if it will even show its face.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
So my nephrologist tells me I am to take a Tums before each meal. It helps binds phosphates, she says, which will help ease the load on my kidneys. So I do. And so this is the conversation that followed with Jesse:

ME: So, basically, the Tums takes all the food I eat and turns it into a small point of singularity in my stomach?


ME: And my butt's the black hole it's pushed into?


ME: Science, bitches.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
1) I have been a whiny, whiny, motherfucking morose bitch lately. Thank you guys for putting up with it.

2) I have managed to gain almost 20 pounds in three weeks. While I did go through a week where I had a 20 ounce soda everyday, this weight gain in such a short time seems statistically improbable.

3) My ankles are swollen. My ankles have NEVER swelled before, even when I was 15 pounds heavier than I am now. My face is puffy, puffy and springy in a way that weight gain has never done before.

4) Ergo, it is less likely actual weight gain and more...edema? A mixed up and backwards hydration system? My body deliriously trying to give me the middle finger?

5) "Things fall apart, the center cannot hold." Love that poem. Do not love the way my body is taking that literally.

6) Could be worse. Could be on fire. That would make anything worse.

7) We have been busy at work. So, so busy. Over 300 calls in three days last week. Well over 150 calls yesterday. I look around my little cubicle ant farm and realize there are several empty seats whereas two weeks ago, they were mostly full.

8) Turn over is a bitch.

9) There are posters at work that say "What are you working forward to? I do not know how or why, but I know that is somehow grammatically incorrect and it's driving me insane. I am well versed enough in the English language to recognize an off-sounding phrase when I hear it, but not professionally trained enough in the English language to pinpoint WHY it's off.

10) So why is that phrasing so...wrong?
quirkytizzy: (Default)
* A Tolkien quote on one of the manager's white boards: Not all who wander are lost.

Except for the Israelites. They were lost for 40 years. For fear of religiously offending anyone, I haven't let that joke slip at work. I want to. Just not badly enough to risk alienating anyone who may later become my boss.

* First female ISIS recruit to be gunned down in an airstrike Why would someone join ISIS? I know that 'one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter', but seriously...why? ISIS are the bad guys. They are so clearly the bad guys.

* I can never decide if Sharon and Ozzy are a forever love that can triumph over anything or if their relationship is just a decades-long display of codependency. Probably both.

* I read yesterday that an astronaut, floating in space without a shuttle or a suit, could be theoretically preserved for thousands of years while floating in the vast blackness. Possibly even millions of years. Assuming the body doesn't crash into debris or get close enough to a warm star to burn to a cinder, at least.

* If that's true, then it's possible that some future space-faring species could find a human corpse, even if we have long since wiped ourselves off the face of the planet. I find this both creepy and wildly comforting.

* Someday I want to visit the river Strid in England, which claims to be one of the most deadly rivers in the world. What makes it so deadly is that at its narrowest, it's less than a six foot jump to make it the other side. Unfortunately, if you miss (and the rocks are mossy and wet, so you WILL miss), you'll discover that the river is six feet across.....and so deep that no one has yet to properly measure its depths.

* The underwater chasms are thought to have corpses crammed and pinned in like sardines, as many of the bodies of those that fall in are never recovered. The thought of staring into the water, wondering if ghostly hands are waving back up to me, is surprisingly compelling.

* Just not compelling enough to actually jump in and SEE if anyone is waving at me. I like the idea of haunted rivers being a purely intellectual exercise, instead of, y'know, becoming a part of the story.


quirkytizzy: (Default)

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