Daily Archives: September 11, 2015

Goofed Up

SO I goofed up my class yesterday and forgot the conference.  I was able to view it and made observations in a discussion thread devoted to it.  But I don’t know if that’s enough to counteract missing it in the first place. I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and remembered it.  I could have kicked myself.  It was eaten up with technical difficulty so next time will be better.  I know we need to recreate the classroom experience, but it seemed very unwieldy way to do it.  l hope it gets better.

I did get an A on my assignment where I wrote about my suicide experience.  So that was good.  I; ve already turned in the assignment this week and hopefully can see the next assignment to do it in case I have surgery next week.  I may write ahead and let him know that might be a possibility.

Game night tonight to see what’s going on in doing their Hope it goes well for them all,

keeping quiet (pablo neruda)

After yesterday’s beautiful and hopeful and hopeless and tragic posts about suicide, I’d like to introduce you to what I think is the most exquisite possible argument against it. Keeping Quiet (Pablo Neruda) Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still. For once on the face of the earth, let’s not…

Not feeling the best

but trying to do things to make myself feel better. The old familiar sadness, is there a reason?  The tears, is it the season? The hollow, emptiness. The negative thoughts, the heaviness, yes this is what I was afraid of now that I can’t take antidepressants. Now what do I do? Let’s see what my psychiatrist pulls out of his hat now. Contacted him, haven’t heard back. Don’t like to feel bad, I have people to see, places to go and cooking to do. Haha. The sunglasses are not just to look cool, they stop you from crying from the shallot vapors. Crying, been doing much too much of that already. Wish I could wave a magic wand and make illness disappear. Sorry, I know this post is totally uninspired. Promise I’ll write a better one soon.   


Do psychiatrists perpetuate the stigma of mental illness?

Time to Change, a British mental health organization dedicated to ending mental health stigma, partnered with the country’s National Health Service to address the issue of the stigmatization and mistreatment of patients within the mental health care system. A study conducted by Time to Change, published in the British Journal of Psychiatry, found that between […]

Please Enter My Tweet Against Stigma Contest!

  Okay, so here’s the latest.  I live in a mountain community full of hippies, the homeless, the impoverished, the middle class, and the very rich. I call them the “Secret Rich” because they don’t want anyone to know how … Continue reading

Procrastinator’s lament

art of procrastinationIn my other life, I was an efficient and organized office manager. Even though my life was falling apart at a rapid rate, I was still able to function as a productive adult for about 15 years. Since I stopped working, about 25 years ago, my organizational skills flew out the window.

Using a 4-color (plus pencil) pen, I make lists, and my lists have sub-lists. I also use two different apps for lists, I have four calendars, and there are numerous sticky notes adorning my lists and calendars. I even have an item on my task list that says “Make schedule.” I once read that if I make a schedule as if I were at work, I would get more accomplished. Hah!

I used to be able to blame it on my kids – you know those phone calls “I forgot my homework/lunch/sweater, etc.” But then they didn’t need me any more. Now what? The cats, it’s the cats’ fault. They stare at me through the window wanting to be let in, they sit at the door wanting to be let out. They barf, they bring in “gifts” I need to clean up, they require feeding, and of course they force me to stop what I’m doing and pet them until they’ve had enough.

Then I discovered “creative or therapeutic” procrastination through my art and jewelry. And lets not forget bread baking, blogging, blogs to read, news to read, and the evil of all evils-social media. Sometimes I blame it on depression, which is actually true in some cases, but I really can’t use that excuse all the time. I’d also like to blame it on ECT and say I have a Swiss cheese brain so I can’t really be organized. But wait, isn’t that what the lists are for?

There are so many books, websites, and productivity apps that are supposed to make my life easier, but then I have to find time on my as-yet-to-be-completed schedule to implement these tools or read these books. Meanwhile, I sit here typing in my pajamas with one cat sitting on the table staring at me, and one cat sitting outside the window next to me staring at me, dirty dishes, a bread starter that needs to be fed, a house that needs cleaning, laundry that needs to be put away…oh wait, Messenger just beeped at me…

Tagged: procrastination

Too Nice and Accommodating

I’m scheduled for a lot of hours through September and October due to several coworkers taking vacations.  My supervisor, Sophie, called me before creating the October schedule to make sure I was okay with working nearly full-time, because I was hired as an occasional employee – expecting 1 day per week, plus every 6th weekend. […]

Rant-The Musical

Okay, no show tunes here, but while pondering a title for my current rant of randomness…I just thought of the whatever-artsy-fartsy-theater-term “Rent” is…Thus…Rant-The Musical. Well, it makes sense in my fucked up mind.

My mental state today is like the weather- cool, gray, hazy, damp, drizzly. I’m not quite awake yet. Lucky I woke when I did cos this new flip phone is way more complicated than my old Motorola and I shut the alarm off rather keeping it in repeat mode. So waking at 7 precisely, naturally, was serendipitous. Then again, my kid came to me in the middle of the night saying she had a nightmare and wanted to be with me. For a change up, I slept in her top bunk with her. My sleep is fucked up as is, sleeping in a different bed made it more so.

I didn’t take any sleepers yet I had some of the strangest dreams. Strange because they were based  on reality. My dad yelling at me about a car repair he paid for twenty years ago…An ex copping an attitude when I dared to voice an emotion, reducing me to tears and making it all worse…Just weird shit.

Mom called me around ten last night and said they *may* have a place to stay. My nephew’s gf’s grandma has a two bedroom property she’s willing to let them stay in for free til they get their down payment for the house they intended to buy toward the end of the year . Cramped for five people but a roof overhead. I don’t know if that’s a go, but that was the last word I got. The fund has thus far raised $290, much of it coming from my brother in law’s gamer friends. (And my net friends.) It’s mind boggling how uncharitable the local community seems to be. We’re all broke, I get that. But even offering old furniture sitting in a basement would be a help, jebus.

Here’s the link again, if anyone would be so kind as to keep it floating on the interwebs.


The locals have really put a dent in my “faith in humanity” this week. I called a woman the other day for R about coming to pay for and pick up her tv. She started screaming at me about how long it took to get done (that slow boat from China is real when it comes to flat panel parts) then she informed me she will be to pay for it when it suits her. And hung up on me. The next day a truck was driving by slowly looking for house numbers and some dude came speeding up behind with his window down screaming “Make up your fuckin’ mind, dog, get the fuck out of my fuckin’ way!” I just thought it was so rude. Least when I get my snarky road rage I rarely scream, I mutter to myself.

I just don’t get rudeness. Crudeness, yes. Rudeness, no. Please, thank you, hi, bye, just the basic social courtesies. They are sorely missing here and it’s sad. One day when I was picking Spook up one of the older boys (had to be sixth grade or a mutant from his size) came running out and yelled at me, “Get out of my way, bitch!” Just like…wtf. Who raises these kids who turn into the adults acting this way? Savages.

This coming from a self proclaimed misanthrope whose life philosophy is “fuck you”. I can manage basic courtesy. I can feign civility. Sometimes even mean it sincerely. I was raised by wolves, basically. Rudeness is a choice. And this town is the mecca of choosing to be rude. I’m waiting for my tornado relocation plan to kick in. Maybe it will carry us to another state where people have manners.

I had a moment last night of utter sadness. I was laying in bed with Spook and she sleeps with Feet and he was laying on my back, purring…And for a brief moment I thought, aww, Abby and Arsenic love their mommy…That was when reality smashed into me and I was just crushed under this stifling sadness. They’re never coming back and my brain still can’t grasp it. I can only imagine the grief my sister’s feeling losing eight cats in one night and she’s not even been able to grieve.

R stopped by last night and we had a nice chat. He was carrying on about people who use him for repairs and money and of course, I kind of got my dander up cos I know I used to be that person. When I got defensive, he made it very clear he considers us on even ground.We do things for each other, it’s very fair, very give/take. That was nice, to know none of it’s being lorded over me. (until the next time I burst into tears and make him uncomfortable so he lashes out.)  I’m just relieved he doesn’t view me as one of the users. I like to view it as the barter system of old days, but instead of trading a chicken for fresh milk, I do internet searches for him and he buys me smokes.

This morning before I woke Spook, I just stood at her bedside, staring at her. She looks so peaceful and sweet in her sleep. I just marveled at her long dark lashes, that adorable pouty mouth with the perfectly shaped lips..And it boggles me that I was involved in creating that little life. My forte seems to be fucking up and destroying things. I created something beautiful, with the donor’s minor contribution. It’s these small joys that get lost amidst the depressions, the manic episodes, the crippling anxieties…So easy to see all the suckage yet lose sight of beauty.

Just not seeing a lot of beauty lately. Lots of doubledecker suck bus rides have been given out for free, though.

I wish it would stop drizzling. Moving shit in rain sucks. Though I’m not sure what’s to be hauled furniture wise. The water and soot damage was bad, and everything sitting there the last few days, soaking wet, is causing warping, mold, etc. I’m told the stench bowls you over, I haven’t been back since the day of. I remember how my stuff reeked for months and all I had was soot damage. Can’t imagine what three days of stagnant water mixed with fire and soot smells like.

I also wanted to hit yard sales to see if I could find some deals on furniture and such for mom and them, but rain kind of puts a crimp in that plan, too. My nephew needs everything, his room was destroyed completely. Everything accumulated over 17 years gone in a flash. Poor kid. I felt sorry for him yesterday when I was visiting my sis and a text came in, and her husband said, “It’s just Cory whining about his computer being destroyed.” And here he is with his thousands of dollars worth of monster computer that was saved. I snarked, “Said by the guy whose computer is still working.” He doesn’t like me anyway, whatever. Just…so rude to say to your own kid who has lost everything including his beloved cat.

Okay. End of the performance, please exit to your left and tell all your friends about Rant: The Musical. I suppose I should throw in a song. For your listening pleasure…a singing ranting foul mouthed squirrel.


Dear MyFridayBlog:

pencil heartAnswering personal ads are normally not my thing, but yours really hit home. When I first started blogging, it never occurred to me to simply re-post something someone else wrote. As a matter fact, I didn’t even know that was a “thing.” I do, however quote people/blogs/articles, and have (since I started writing) reposted something, but I try to be original. Writing is something I enjoy doing. It can be therapy, it can be informative, it can simply be fun. My original blog was more eclectic, and I wrote about all aspects of my life; but when I moved over here (due to some unexpected stalking/trashing) I thought I should focus more on mental health. You now have me questioning that decision, but I haven’t yet decided if that’s good or bad…maybe it’s neither. Reading original content is my first choice, but sometimes I enjoy the occasional re-post if it’s about something amazing that I may have missed.

But anyway, I enjoy your blog (no option to comment, or am I just too stupid to see it?). It’s so…um…human. It’s heart-wrenching, entertaining, and relatable (besides the fact I have the requisite combo-lunacy, I also have a 2000 Jeep Cherokee); and I enjoyed going to Alaska with you. I’ve noticed you’ve “liked” a few of my posts, so hopefully we can keep this relationship going. By the way, I love the library, did you enjoy your time there?


A perhaps not-so-exciting blog-type-thingy

Tagged: blogging, writing

Fundraising Again-For Family Whose House Caught Fire

Originally posted on Take a Ride on My Mood Swing:
Fund Oh, yes, it is I, she who really does not have anything good to say because…life. Around three a.m. this morning, my mom’s house caught fire.The fire started upstairs in my nephew’s room (he fortunately wasn’t there.) Everyone but her husband was asleep and…