Moody Meow

Flies have taken over my house. They glide and buzz through the air like small, drunk buses - thunking into my paper lanterns and computer screens. One landed on D’s face last night and I almost puked. He and I have become quite skilled in fly-killing. I try not to kill any bugs, I really do. But I have to keep wet cat food out for Valentine now and I was terrified that something bad, like maggots, would happen to it. So, the flies have to die. We think they are coming up from the basement. I’ve talked time and again about the swiss cheese nature of this house. There are cat-sized holes beneath the stairs (Val got out that way…the fucker) so I put up chicken wire to keep the bigger critters, like opossums, out of the house. But we live in an old house with a raised kitchen area, plenty of space for flies to breed. I have to keep the basement door open because that is the cat room, with the litter box. No, I won’t bring it upstairs. Have you ever smelled Voodoo’s shit? We don’t call him Poo-doo for a reason. This means I’ll probably bitch about flies for the next few weeks while it remains hot.

One just thunked the window. God, I hate that sound.

I had this whole paragraph about how much I loved cereal, but it made no sense. The Cliff’s Notes version - I love granola that’s flavored like granola, not like coconut or mango. Raisins are okay, but only sometimes.

Yesterday had to be one of the hardest days I’ve had in a long time. The good thing about rapid cycling is that I know the mood will pass. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. For the first time since last November, I pulled out the box knife. It sat on my desk. I cried. And then I put it away. I did not cut. I can’t say that will happen every time I have the urge, but it worked this time. The scar on my left arm reminds me how ugly this illness can be. Cutting and manic-depression are not mututally exclusive, but I’ve known several people who suffered from both at the same time. D wants to look into insurnance so that I can get back on meds. I honestly think I agree with him now. At first I didn’t want to do it, but he made a good point last night. I love living in Portland. I love what it offers and I love what I can do here. But I’ve been looking through a cloud of crazy since last summer. I’m contstantly distracted by trying to keep things in check, to not lose it. Our relationship has suffered. The older I get, it seems the worse it gets. It’s just hard sometimes. Today I am much better. I woke up, almost cheerful. I’ve been job hunting. I’m writing this post. I called the vet to schedule Val’s surgery (she’s supposed to call me back). The simplest acts, showering, walking, eating - become impossibly difficult when I’m in my lows. And with the mania, well I’m a brilliant writer who can’t focus on a clear thought.

/sigh

The french braid thing comes from yesterday as well. I had an interview I blew off. I got up at 6:30, showered, braided my hair, put on makeup, dressed. And then I fell apart. I e-mailed the lady and told her I had a family emergency. It was just with a temp agency, not a real job offer. But I just couldn’t do it. And then I shut off my phone and turned off my computer. D got very worried…he can see these swings coming pretty early. And he said to me the other day that he felt like he couldn’t help me anymore, that he didn’t have the cure for the moodswings. But he does. His just being there makes me feel like I need to work harder to make it better. It’s not just me that’s in this mess. Being married to someone with this illness has to be hard for him.

But, that’s enough of that.

Here are little bits of stuff…

• D sold his carbon-framed bike. We need the money for Val’s surgery, but he also didn’t ride the bike much anymore. He loves his steel framed bike. We got a good deal, enough money for the surgery and any unexpected things that may come up with that.
• I completed my deadline for school —- late. With everything going on I’ve had a hard time really getting my writing done. I can’t deal with a lot of what is going on in my own life, so challenging my characters to deal with their little heap of crap has gotten impossible. I realized I’ve been cheating a little as well. Every time I have to explore character feelings, I kill them. Now, I’m having a lot of fun killing my characters, but death is starting to lose its meaning in my plot. That’s why 1st drafts rock…. I can fix this in a later draft.
• Books — I have TONS of books to read. Good stuff.
• My sister is in CO with her friends and family. I’m insanely jealous. Last summer I took a trip with her to visit, and I can’t do it right now. We don’t have the money and it would be irresponsible, but I almost feel like a week in CO would help me write. I thought isolating myself would help me finish my novel, but I need to do that at home. I can’t run to Momma’s house when I have problems here, especially when the issues are in my head. Have fun, Lex!
• Not using the car has challenged D and I to find creative solutions to our issues. We walk to New Seasons. We bike to the pet store. We don’t go to Fred Meyer’s (it’s down Broadway..and down the VERY steep part of 33rd), we haven’t gone to the movies. But we have gone downtown to Powell’s and bebopped here and there. He has a transit pass. I’m using our change, but I’ve come to love riding the bus. It’s fun, of course we aren’t riding it during rush hour. I think that would be the suck.
• I’ve gotten a few “thankyoubutno” responses to my job applications. It’s disheartening. I think that was a part of my getting bummed out.
• I’m still not smoking, although I’ve wanted one recently. Must. Resist. Smoking.

I think I need to reiterate that I’m much better today. I feel like I have a handle on life, that I can do what I need to do when I need to do it, I just feel a little isolated. But that’s the hazard of not having a job. Someone freaking hire me!

And now, the puppies are demanding a walk. Fucking dogs are spoiled.