Moody Meow

I met Luis in 1997.I felt his eyes on me as I shelved the History section in Borders. The conversation began easily. The immediate attraction lead to a quick roll in the sack. He liked my ass and my long, long hair. I loved his eyes and his wicked, mischievous smile. We smoked pot, and had sex on the couch of the house he was trying to sell. The divorce hadn’t gone through yet, and as we had sex in his room on a mattress on the floor. The soon-to-be ex-wife tried to bust through the lock that kept us from a truly embarrassing situation. She didn’t realize I was there, and naked, and screwing her soon-to-be ex-husband. Then we moved in together. Not together precisely. We moved in with four other people, to include his new girlfriend who was coming to move in with him from Vegas. We still had sex until the day she got there. Then the tension came in who really had a place with him. I held no delusions. We were very honest with each other. I maintained other relationship the whole time we slept together. The constant friction between the girlfriend and I (which never amounted to more than dirty looks and raised voices) and a growing drug addiction drew me North. Ft. Lauderdale called. I didn’t say goodbye. I had friends pack me into a big, rusted van with my few belongings and my cat and we were off. I never expected to see him again.

I knew Luisa (as I called him) had family in Orlando. I think he moved back up here to go to Full Sail We got together once for dinner and a quick conversation. The subsequent years have been spent saying hello at restarants. I am still interested in seeing who he is now. But, although he sees me online all the time, he says nothing. We saw him last night at Pei Wei. Luisa has a penchant for younger women (I think he was 28 when I was nineteen) and his dinner date was 22 (I asked). He looked thinner in the face, but with a beer belly. But the smile was the same. He joked with D, asking how he could “put up with me.” I think D just smiled. Luisa was years ago but I never regretted my time with him. I still think he has a big heart. It’s so big that one woman will never be ale to contain it. Never.

During our travels last night, we picked up a new blanket for the bed. I have a blanket fetish. I love duvets and big swaths of cloth that can swarm you with fabric. My friends know that I have a “woobie.” I didn’t name it. Someone else did (I think it was either D or Vanya or Frankie). If we watched a movie, I drug it to the couch so I could immerse myself in it. But it’s a freakin’ duvet, which means it is warm and heavy (and down alternative…because I don’t do feathers) made sleeping a chore. In theory it was nice, but it was also only a queen. We have a king bed. No sharing with D, who is a blanket thief anyway. Fast forward to Target. I’ve been eyeing a summer weight duvet for months now. We bought it. We needed a duvet cover. We bought it. I went to bed last night (alone, because D and Frankie went on a date) and had the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Of course, there were contributing factors, such as exersize and a sleeping pill. But I knew I needed good sleep, and damn, if I didn’t get it last night.

We also picked up the last of my 80’s movies. Labyrinth, The Dark Crystal and the Untouchables. Good stuff. Easy to write about . I should get to that soon.

My fingertip still hurts from the cut on Monday. I was chopping onions for dinner, turned my head and S-l-i-c-e! The end of my finger started to bleed like mad. It still hurts

As I drove down Hampton, towards my house, I had to stop at the red light at Colonial. That intersection teems with various kinds of people that swim in the this endlessly liquid world. But yesterday, I saw a man walking with purpose. He seemed to impact the ground with every step he took, but he wasn’t stomping. His knee pivoted like a machine, and his foot rested just where it ought to in relation to the gum ridden sidewalk. He was black - like the night, and I couldn’t see his eyes for the dark sunglasses he wore. They were older fashion, defiantly thrift store. A too-big shirt and too-big pants didn’t hide his shoes. They were the kind of non-skid shoes that servers wear a restaurants. Black, flat, devoid of fashion and laces.. But what struck me as interesting and quite telling was the rhythm with which he moved, as if compelled by some earthly beat, and the fact that he was wearing headphones. As he stepped off of the curb to pass in front of my car, I saw the naked end of his headphones. It sparkled, like a jewel. He wasn’t plugged into anything except the music in his mind.

I don’t know where he was headed, or why, but he left me with a feeling that nothings impossible, if you just keep to the beat.

Almost every month I have to sleep in the living room at least once. It’s some kind of mental penance and an attempt at keeping my lover out of harm’s way. I admit I can be a bitch about this under normal circumstances, but there’s been a mental release for me. We rode yesterday, walked the beagles and I was physically exhausted. As I lingered on the edge of sleep, David moved. That was all it took for me to understand that I was going to be awake for the rest of the night. So, I grabbed my pillow, made my apologies and closed the door most of the way so the felines could exit and enter as their moods struck them. I then spend the rest of the night cursing the building of Baldwin Park because the cars raced down my street long after 1 in the morning.

So my thoughts wandered all over the place as they do when I can’t sleep. I thought about the points in the ride where I almost pulled over and puked on some stranger’s lawn. Half an apple pop-tart is not good before a steaming, hard ride. I thought about the lingering disconnect between me and the fam, and the isolation I feel. I thought about a move, anywhere and the big blue spot in the corner of the TV that irritates the snot out of David. I thought about the lack of roaches in my house, the first rain that washed my world clean in weeks, about the color of the sky prior to that rain, and the particular shade of orange that dusk gives us. I thought about our plans for the weekend which include a trip to the Bird of Prey center, a ride on West Orange, X-men United, a trip to the headshrinker, dinner with Vanya, doggie parks and lots of good Erica food. I thought about my weight gain and how disheartening it is for me. I thought about how I felt last weekend when I smoked and the phlegm I’m coughing up now (the lingering smoking hangover). I thought about David singing me silly songs to keep my mood up and how he sits on the couch with me when I play Morrowind. I thought about Pip’s dandruff (who knew a dog could have dandruff) and how much I love listening to NPR in the morning. I thought about seeing Vanya driving home while we walked the doggies and how nice it was to have a friend in the neighborhood (that queues a song in my head…but I don’t remember which one)…and then I fell asleep.

My dream involved snow. My parent’s place. Honest happiness and no guarded facades. Papa-san was working on installing a new floor in the kitchen and Mom was painting something. There was snow outside and it was warm inside and I never felt more out-of-home in my life. Not that I wasn’t welcome, but it was not my home. I knew, even in dreaming, that my home included creatures, green and D. I was just visiting. It felt right, that feeling of not being home. I think dreams sometimes make us understand what our waking mind wants to ignore.

When I woke in the morning, I was rushed by beagles (they knew it was breakfast time) and I watched Voodoo run around the house, and a sleepy David came to wake me for my day. I felt at home…

My dreams have been vivid . Today I dreamt that I had a professional tuck me in every time I rumpled the blankets. Nice theory, and an interesting concept since D constantly steals the covers.

But yesterday morning, between my fits of wakefullness I went back to Germany. I revisted my house in Egenburg. To my dismay I found that the city to the north had swallowed my little town, surrounding my house with a plaza and they tore down all of the holly bushes, put a fence around the Grandfather tree (the oldest tree in Bavaria - which was in my yard) and then tore down the great oak where I used to watch the owls. The fields had been overgrown with garish buildings. I walked into our old house, the rooms naked, with velvet ropes, spanning the doorways of all the rooms. It felt like a museum. I walked over the ropes to show Rhonda (my stepsister who had the near-fatal car accident on Thanksgiving and who is still in the hospital) where the great oak used to stand. I told her about the owls and the strange birds of winter that used to ride the moonlight when I couldn’t sleep. I showed her the fireplace, and the hidden grate beneath the iron door where I used to sweep the ashes through. I wanted to show her the ash bin in the basement where all the ashes fell, but the door was locked. It never locked when I lived there. I showed her the attic, still full of sheets and dust and treasures unexplored. Then we went back outside and I scaled the fence surrounding the Grandfather tree and watched the people mill about below me. They smiled at the tree because they knew I was there, but none of them said anything. I woke to the sensation of leaves brushing the apples of my cheeks. I know that’s all disjointed…but that’s how dreams run.

I can still smell that old house in Egenburg. Still feel the sting of nettles on my hands, the scent of the lavender that bloomed up the hill near our landlord’s house, the taste of winter’s first snowflake, and the sound of being completly secluded from the world outside.

Honor of America

Plastic bags in a tutu,
she danced sitting down
beneath the overhang;
her honor cloth,
an American flag.
It rained last night.
I listened to the lightening from
my fluffy red couch
immersed in warm blankets.
The air conditioner running at 73.
I discussed the addition of a new television
Fourty two inches of HD indulgence.
I’m a consumer.
And she dances on the side walk,
sitting down among cigarette butts
and the muck from the heels of those who
oass her by, and who ignore
that her honor cloth
is an American flag.

Artisan Clouds

Translucent orb, above the veins of the city
quietly tries to remind the hurried
that a storm moved through last night
pulling the clouds like coral-colored waves
behind it.
The Atlantic Ocean will swell with the winds
that incited my sycamore to dance a rain dance
and the only ones to watch
fishermen, mermaids and the birds that dare to ride
will see the triumphant colors in the pulling of the tide
through the sky.

____

Understand that I never claim to be a poet, but sometimes I feel in unconventional phrases. Just sometimes….

How do you feel about your family? Not just sections of them, but all of them. Do they make you feel loved? Are they there for you? Do they celebrate your accomplishments? Are you in love with the idea of family more than the people themselves? Do they live up to your expectations? Do they know how to listen?

There is a conversation that won’t happen because I don’t have the mental fortitude to deal with it. But I want to ask my family these things (this does not include D). I try to look at things from beyond my madness and really understand where I am in relation to those that I love. I’ve lost one family already. I’ve not seen my father since I was a child, and I haven’t spoken to him since I was 17. And I am watching the rest of my family slip away into their own preoccupations and I find I am powerless to stop it. I don’t know what to say because I’ll be regarded as hysterical.

My birthday is a prime example. Understand that my woes are never about money, they are about thoughtfulness and generosity of time. Instead of doing something new and novel for me for my birthday (it is, after all, my 30th) my parents are just going to forgive my debt to them. On one hand I am grateful-ish. But more of it is a return for the cash I paid out for the rental car for my mother’s birthday. The rest of the money I owe for a laptop is forgiven. That’s the birthday present. I felt like they couldn’t even be bothered to think of something nice.

My stepfather also said something pretty disturbing while we were out there. He told us not to come during their busy season because that was “money out of our pocket.”  Our visit for my mother’s birthday was the first out there in two years. The visit before that didn’t happen during their busy season either. He assumed we were there to ski. I was there to visit my family. That’s where the disconnect really made itself apparent. What’s fucking wierd is that when people came down for our wedding, they didn’t seem so insular and removed from me.
I am trying to work all of this out within myself, because part of me feels like an ungrateful heel.  On the other hand I know there’s been a change there, and while I own part of that difference, I don’t see myself being the reason.

Okay… I feel better now that I’ve gotten that out. I guess I’m having trust issues. If you can’t trust your family to be there, then who do you trust?

After thought and consideration, I’ve decided that this site needs some honesty. I started blogging to find my own voice and I swim in the darker corners of myself in order to understand my own inner workings. If that elucidates a response from strangers and the known participants in my life - then that’s just groovy. But there’s been an unhealthy dose of self-censoring. I’ve worried myself into silence in order to protect you and you and you. The cost has been to myself. I find that I utter “But I thought you knew… (insert text here).” And when you come back at with me with “You never told me!” I feel like a shit head. I feel like I’ve been hiding something, and I realize I’ve been hiding my own feelings.

I‘ve got this problem with feeling everything. All of it. The good, the bad (and the bad is mighty fierce) and the ugly. You and you and you are probably scared of me. It seems a lot of people are. Not that I am going to fly off the handle and kick your ass, and hopefully not that I am going to hurt your feelings. But you are scared none-the-less and I can’t figure out why. My ferocity doesn’t come at the expense of your feelings. I am overly concerned about those around me. But I am fierce. It is how I exist.

I am ripe with change. The precipice looms and all I have to do is strap on a parachute and jump. those that come with me will enjoy the view. Those that don’t will never know that they missed in not risking themselves. I don’t want to leave you and you and you behind, know that much.

So how does this translate to Moody Meow? In terms of the site, beyond posts about work, I am not going to make any of them, and please understand this - any of them - private. I’m awful at hiding my feelings in person and to do so in this digital world goes against the grain for me. When I am manic and full of illogical rage, you will hear about it. When I am amused at my own folly, you may read that as well. When I doubt the substance of friendship and family, you are going to be witness to that. All of the things that make me Erica are going to be here, because they are there in person as well. This silence and retreat was as much about trying to figure out my own misery (because I know for a fact that it wasn’t my manic-depression) as it was about planting my feet and ceasing my backwards motion.

It came to me, just yesterday, that my withdrawal may have hurt some feelings. I honestly didn’t think about how my retreat would affect those around me. It was better for most that I did what I did when I did it. Understand that I never meant to offend or hurt you and you and you. I admit to being a monster sometimes, and recently I’ve had to come to terms with the more interesting aspects of myself. But if you listen to me for a moment, and really see me, not the seeming banality of my life, you would see that there are tempestuous waters beneath the pinched smile. But I am back, pinched smile and all. I need to make some phone calls I’ve been putting off, and come back to the real world. That’s my responsibility, but give me time to do it.

I ask that you fear me less. I promise to work on making me a better person. But also understand that there are reasons that I feel what I feel. Perception is the key to all relationships. I know you and you and you aren’t in my skin and won’t be able to fathom all of the choices I make. But there is sanity there, I swear it. And I hope you and you and you come with me on this journey. If you’ve got the strength to jump, I’ve got the parachute

I am looking around a more grad schools and have settled into the thought of on in Virginia. It feels like Rollins in terms of size and campus, and it’s in Roanoke, a great place to bike. The more I think about things, the less settled I am to one idea or another. When people ask me what I’m going to do after graduaiton “Moving to Chicago” has given way to “finding a masters program.” I won’t settle this time. I will get into a school that inspires me, and the weight of this boredom and frustration from this semester really solidified it for me.

I have my art final today. I think I will do fine, athough my studying has been put to the wayside by the short story I am writing.

And I would like to give props to all those that marched yesterday. I thought it wasn’t an issue that touched me, and then I remembered that my father’s family were all immigrants who had to go through what these people are speaking of. My mother’s family came over a long time ago, but there is immigrant in me. I should have marched. I may not know much about my hispanic culture, but it’s in my blood and their suffering impacts us all

I fell in love with bricks and history. With the El and having friends close. With Clark’s and the neat shops that dot the streets like punctuation in long sentences. But why am I pushing for Chicago? Is it the wisest choice? I’ve taken the idea of the Windy City and run with it. My desperation to get out of Florida drives me fiercly. I want out. I need it. But, to where? All this time in my slow trek north I’ve not considered the reasons why. The reasons above are quite weighty, but are they enough for that choice? Chicago is an expensive city (I’m not concerned with the weather - I’ve dealt with worse) and now I’m not sure that we can gather enough funds and find a decent place and get a job in the right ammount of time. And then there is the green. I need green. I am utterly in love with trees and flowers and nature (which makes sense because I’m a pagan) and I don’t know if I can have those frozen out for months at a time. The trip to Colorado really solidified the longing for live nature. I’m not counting out Chicago, rather reevaltuating things. Tali and Cat are plenty reason to move north, added to that the prolific number of schools, public transportation and a wealth of museums — it sounds like heaven. But, I don’t know if I am willing to give up Nature. I realize there are trees and such in the north, but the eternal green. Can I live without it? Will a huge city overwhelm me? I feel off kilter today. Terrified of what the next year brings. I do want to move, that much is certain. But the locale still eludes me. Chicago seems to have it all. It seems to. Except the green. I need the green. I am thinking aloud, trying to figure out where D and I will fit. It just all seems a mess right now. Perhaps I just need a snack.

I don’t think I can take that stuff regularly. Beyond its highly addictive nature and almost assured weight gain, it knocks me off the level of the waking world and pushes me knee-deep into a weightless drunkenness. David observed that its effects were similar to alcohol in me: one moment I am silly and sane, the next I am dead asleep. I will tell you that my addiction to this drug wouldn’t come from the physicality of the effects, but rather from the sleep it induces. I swam deeply in my dreams, and woke, only begrudgingly, to the sweet sound of David’s voice, enveloped in my warm duvet (see: woobie). I wanted more sleep. Needed it. Considered calling into work. (they know about the meds and such). Instead I sat on the toilet, my underwear around my feet, and contemplated a shower and if I could manage any kind of balance.

Shower done, I felt clean. Not just externally, but internally. As if that blessed sleep finally healed something long raw and unchecked. Festering it was. Now I feel healed. That is what I can become addicted to. This unwavering sense of “yes, I slept.” It’s a drug all on its own.

I will not take this med as directed by my doc. It’s a small dosage, but I will take it as needed (as she told me verbally) when my thoughts race and I have trouble sleeping. It’s an anti-anxiety med with sedative properties. I don’t need it all the time. Sometimes I think the patient has the right to make their own calls. I don’t do this ignorantly. I’ve read up on Klonopin and it’s reactions with my main meds and what they will both due to my system. Perhaps this is boring to you all. I can’t imagine that blogging about meds and mental illness (god I hate that term) would be the most interesting read. It isn’t necessarily who I am, merely part of how I function. Erica, beyond the manic-depression, is still inherently Erica.

Tali and I were online yesterday talking about Chicago and what we would do. My not drinking kind of puts kink in many of our plans, for there are many pubs and bars that call to us. And I don’t smoke anymore. And I don’t eat meat. This is a radical shift from the Erica you all knew seven years ago when I moved here. I drank. I did drugs (although it was much less than when I lived down south). I hope the steadier creature I am becoming doesn’t disuade you from understanding that I am still Erica, still the ass-kicking softie with mean cooking skills and an obsession with being on time. I don’t know if I am trying to convince you or myself, but I’m not going to change much. Just become more “normal” I guess.

I am wiggling around in this calm skin, trying to get the feeling right. The change from the week I was in Colorado to now is radical. I think it’s not only the meds, but being at home and being comfortable (mentally and physically). If you want to know the best of me. Come to my house. Play with my creatures. Take a rest on my porch and have a conversation. Then we all can rest and I will make you the best omelet ever. I am still Erica….just a little more medicated.

I am peeling.
I feel like a leezard (I know the spelling is incorrect, but it’s fun to say!).
Uberbot has Tokodoki!
The PSP has a Jak game (I love platformers)
I have to go to school to pick up paperwork for the incomplete I am going to take.
D and I have to get the seat and the seat belt fixed in Vader.
I need to ride.
I need a new light.
I will make a happy breakfast tomorrow.
My meds have interesting side effects…. did I tell you about them yet?
I think I am due for new glasses, at least ones I can ride with.
The Beagles and I get to go to the dog park.
David may come as well.

I am very glad it’s Friday.
And I may have a date tonight.

I found this creature more than a little amusing. David and I went to the small, organic grocery store in search of lip balm and something good to eat. As we pulled up, this beautiful cat stared at us. I took this picture from the driver’s seat, so you don’t get a true sense of this creature’s regal nature. I watched it watch me as we left the parking lot. I didn’t want to get too close because I didn’t want to freak out it’s parent by sliding up to the window and taking a picture.

It’s Friday. I’ve had a really short week work-wise, but I am glad it’s over. I would like to go to bed now. I can’t seem to wake up completly. Coffee. Need more coffee.

Work is quiet today. Half of the office is out today, so I get to listen to my NPR podcasts at a decent volume.

I am reading up on the side effects of my meds. It seems that I should get a rash at some point, and I will probably have a sensitivity to skin irritants. But the trade-off is stability. I am really hopeful that this will even me out without killing my creativity. I am on meds for Bipolar I when I thought I had II. The psych told me that she noticed my cycling as I sat in the session. I am going to pick up my other meds (to be used to calm me down until I get on a stable dose of the main stuff) and perhaps take a nap.

Did I mention Seemore bloomed? He’s not even the same tree! I love spring-ish time in Florida.

Oh, David made a great observation when we got home from Colorado. Florida is violently green, and I didn’t notice that until we were out in the washed out grays and tans of late-winter. When we move, I know I will miss the endless green. I’ve taken it for granted for so many years.

I hope you have a nice Friday!

Finally spoke with Alexis last night. It doesn’t matter what kind of a mood I am in (I was in a great mood because I got an A on my midterm in N. Ren), she makes me happier. My sister is gleeful. That’s really the only way I can describe it. She’s gleefully stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, there’s little you can do to sway her. And she will allow you to dump on her, but if you agitate someone she loves, then you’d best watch out. So, we chatted briefly last night and I told her about the complaint I am filing with others in my class. I think she is amused.

Speaking of the complaint. After speaking with my classmates, I contacted the Director of Student Services. By the time I spoke with her, she’d already heard the stories: no one in the class got better than an 83 on the midterm, other students are essentially teaching the class with their “presentations,” that we should go to the Writing Center for help with our thesis, about the “book” reading. She asked me what I would like as an option. I offered to take an incomplete until the paper was finished. I also let he know that I didn’t want Simmons involved in the paper at all, that I would be more comfortable going directly to Levis. This is going to be quite tumultuous for the class itself, but I just need to plod through without resorting to poo-flinging. Although I had the urge on Monday when she got in my face.

Tonight is my favorite class. Fiction! I am still working on my story for next week. But things are busy, busy, busy!

D and I rode before class last night. Man, that bike is immensely different to ride, and comes off a stop with a huge amount of speed. I love my Precious!

It’s humpty-hump-hump day! Weekend – here we come!

I listened to a podcast yesterday, and I think it was from NPR about a class being taught at Harvard. It’s a bit odd because the class is essentially about positive thinking and the power of the mind of trials and tribulations. On that note, I am going to share a list with you of things that make me very happy.

They are in no particular order.

Happy smells – my favorite has to be night jasmine, lavender and the scent of my enchilada sauce bubbling away on the stove. David smells lovely too.
iPods/Apple – Every day I come to work with my video iPod (prior to the video was my 15gig) and I listen. If I am in the mood for the theatrical, I listen to the Lord of the Rings soundtracks. If I want to mellow out, I take in one of the meditation podcasts. If I want to laugh, I watch Firefly or Diggnation. Sound permeates my life. And I am extremely happy with how the iPod has worked for me. I also love my laptop. Why? This week I love it for the light-up keyboard. That will change next week.
Bicycles – I gauge my week by how much riding I’ve done (this week – not very much) and that directly effects how I feel for the week. There’s nothing more peaceful than flying down a street on a bike, the wind ripping the tears from your eyes. It’s unencumbered freedom.
The solidification of my ethical system – I feel strong in my beliefs. They are my own – molded by experience and thought. I didn’t come to them without contemplating the left and the right side, looking at all aspects of their nature. I feel calm about what I believe, confidant. I am flush with purpose and opinion. It stirs at my soul.
Beagles – Pip and Puck got a bath this week. I broke down and took them to a groomer because I couldn’t get their nails cut myself. I am always afraid that D and I will cut them too short. Petco damaged them emotionally, and Pip freaks every time we went into the place. So, per Vanya’s recommendation, I went to All Creatures. Affordable, professional and VERY busy – they did a wonderful job. And the lady even cut Puck’s nails without a muzzle. That’s skill! The moral of the story is that they smelled so nice and came home with colorful bandanas. I love it when they are clean and happy.
Water – it does a body good.
Coffee – see above
The prospect of graduation – on one hand it scares the ever-living crap out of me. On the other – it’s a resolution and an accomplishment. I look forward to the day when I can say “Yes, I do have a BA!” The prospect of Masters and Doctoral work also thrills me. We shall see where this educational journey goes.
Travel – it’s good to get out of Orlando every once in a while. I need to break, and so does D. I think it will be a good time.

There’s a lot more that I love including D (of course), my friends, and laughter. But I have to get to a meeting shortly, and I need to eat my snack. Mmmm..applesauce!

This weekend taught me a few things about relationships, what makes me happy, and the idea of forgiveness. Our plans to see a movie with Frankie fell away because of a miscommunication between D and I. I wanted to spare Frankie the post-fight tension. Do you know what is really amazing? I don’t really know what we fought about. But I am sure I didn’t make things any easier by being stubborn. We made up before we went to bed, but the tension from Friday night fell deeply into Saturday morning. A following argument ensued. I get hysterical (and not in a funny way) when I feel cornered or attacked. But I can try the patience of a Saint, even a saintly person like D. We ended the morning with tear-streaked faces and forgiveness. But it was rough all the same. I think that arguments allow for a refocusing of what’s important. The most important thing to me is my relationship with my husband. I am endlessly mushy when it comes to him (this is a recent discovery for me, so I apologize if you all have been subjected to my endless gushing for years, but …well I’m in love). That being said, it really effects me when we argue, and I realized that our moods, like our lives, are intrinsically intertwined. He is greatly effected when I have a swing, and vice versa. So, I am going to be more conscious of my lashing out.

I have an admission. On Saturday I smoked. I felt compelled by the stress and the alcohol. D and I intended on going to a booby bar, so I bought smokes. I smoked them on my front porch and immediately regretted it the next day. My mouth tasted like absolute shite, my sinuses were wrecked and I felt like I had a head made of concrete. That compulsion is over. Little kids learn not to put their hand into a fire after burning themselves. Erica learned not to smoke because it makes her feel like shit. So, someone pass me some gum. I feel guilty for letting people down (David, Frankie, Cat, Tali, Lex, myself…) but I am going to repair the damage done by not doing it again. If I need a reason to stay away from the smoke I just need to remember my grandfather, who can’t walk across a room without having to rest. Emphysema and lung cancer, I just need to remember that.

I got absolutely no homework done this weekend, which freaks me out more than a little. I need to work on my final thesis paper. I say this every week, but I really mean it this time. Really… no …. Really!

Beyond that… I am getting a birthday/solstice/what ever else present sometime at the end of the week, I think. It had to be ordered. It’s been a good year to be me!

So, some addtional observations:
Pip still doesn’t like big dogs sniffing his bum.
However, he does enjoy his toys.
The creatures will always find the clean laundry to sleep on.
They are also devastatingly efficient at unfolding clothes.
My car needs a bath.
A new rug can change the whole feeling of a house.
Our new rugs rock.
Extra potatoes from First Watch makes the perfect breakfast.
Toojays sucks.
Their tater-pancakes rock, but everything else is just crap.
Julie showed me the light of iced coffee.
It’s a godsend.
The best thing to combat Sunday blues is to go for a long-ass bike ride.
2 beers or 2 glasses of wine is all it takes these days.
Overindulgence = WAY off kilter
I have lots of biking in my future.
Movies on my iPod make the day go faster.
My new Tom Bihn bag makes me very happy!
David is terrified of the kitchen.
I am thrilled at the prospect of packing my bags for six days.
I am a blessed woman.

A looooong time ago (see almost 10 years) I had a friend who we all called “Momma Love.” LaVonne guided me through a pretty nasty patch of shite in my life, into a few points where I went mad as a hatter and came out scarred and scared. She was the first person to tell me that the world didn’t revolve around me and that I had a “problem.” I still think the problem was mental rather than my drug use because I smoked more pot with her than I did by myself. Add to this a brief period where we dated, and you have the makings of a friendship for life. Except that I let my life get in the way and she was way busy with her own. We met at Borders in 97 (I think…memory soooo fuzzy) and I moved to Ft. Lauderdale in 98. She threw me a surprise 21st birthday party and kept me sane, at least for a while. When I met Dennis, I wanted her to meet him. I loved her a lot and thought that her opinion meant the world.

Somehow the friendship fractured. I didn’t have a car. Neither one of us had the time. And then my life moved to Orlando. Today, I found her husband online. I want to contact him so I can reach her (Justin, LaVonne and I all worked at Borders). What do you think? Should I? It’s been eight years since we last spoke or saw each other…that’s a long ass time.

It’s something to contemplate.

I didn’t sleep well last night, in spite of my physical exhaustion from the bike ride. Throughout the night I found myself having nightmares that involved co-workers that I have a problems with. There’s something eerie about your enemies haunting your dreams. But I made it to work in one piece, after D and I tried to run to Panera for some breakfast. They officially suck because they don’t open till 7.

My meeting with the bosses didn’t answer some of the questions I had, but they seemed to understand my plight and my concerns. I explained the extent of my problem and they agreed to be supportive while I find help. My director asked how long I would be with OUC, and I was honest and told him until I graduated. He understood, so I think things will stay calm here. Regardless, I am going to do my best to do my job and make sure that my private struggles stay out of everyone else’s gossip circles. I won’t be fodder for the masses.

Did I tell you about my 100 dollar cheetah? I own a 100 dollar toy. And it was an accident, really. D and I ran to Uberbot after breakfast so that I could fill my unhappy soul with some PVC love. On the shelf sat a black cheetah. He was cute, and he had a handgun. For some reason, he reminded me of Voodoo. I looked at the prices of the other figures and they all said forty bucks. More expensive than my normal toys, but part of the purchase from that line goes to wildlife conservation. The guy at the register looks a little too pleased that I was buying such a thing. “You know, this is well worth the price, I mean, cause it’s one of 100.”
“Really?” I said, trying to smile beyond the guilt of forty dollars. “I don’t mind about the price. They give to a great cause….”
“So, that’s 98.56” His smile told I’d just been suckered. David cleverly had his back towards me. I knew if I could see his face that I could somehow get out of paying almost one hundred dollars for a fucking toy. He kept his back turned. The cashier grinned at me. I walked out of Uberbot with a black cheetah holding a handgun – #46 of 100. He does look mighty cool on my desk, but a lump in my throat still forms at the thought. That kind of purchase is like taking off a band-aid – sometimes doing it quickly is the only way to keep it from hurting so much.

So here are some observations from this week:
* I really like getting up later – sometimes I wish I could negotiate a later work time
* Voodoo + car ride + wormer = vomitusmaximus – poor guy got sick all night after we took him to the vet for his annual shots. I think there’ s a reason they give you the wormer after the visit.
* Work sounds a lot better through my headphones and Dead Can Dance – I’m taking my “lunch” right now, and keeping my brain deep in DCD happiness.
* My friends seem to like my taste in music
* Care packages both given and received really make the world go around
* Although a longer bike ride may feel easy when you are still on the bike, you should remember that your muscles will hate you in the morning.
* Wild turkeys are fucking HUGE!
* I love David
* David is a bike-addict
* Daytime telly = stupid
* There’s something utterly freeing about having a two-hour lunch with a good friend.
* When the world hands you lemons, you slice those bastards up and put them on the rim of a nice cold glass filled with rum and coke.
* Dr. Pepper actually makes the world go around
* My friends are fantastic and I am ever grateful for their light and laughter.

But I will get to that in a bit.

My silence was intentional. I appreciate ALL of the phone calls that you made, all support and consideration offered, but I needed some space. Silence makes things clearer to me. Distractions from work, school and my family fell away and I had to listen to the voices in my head. They had a lot to say.

If you don’t know by now - I’m manic-depressive. This means that I (due to a flawed brain chemistry) cycle through states of high mania and deep depression. I also have this lovely little characteristic called rapid cycling, which means this progression happens swiftly, within moments. I am a crazy person. My depressions include: paranoia, decreased appetite, suicidal thoughts, and loss of interest in everything around me, persistent crying and a need for isolation. My manic episodes aren’t any more fun: insomnia, over-active talking and thinking, poor judgment, increased energy, inappropriate irritability and grandiose notions. Somewhere in the middle is where I want to be. And I used to delude myself into believing that the depressions were worse than the manias. They aren’t and when I walked out of work on Tuesday (I honestly thought it was Wednesday!) I was manic. I was mad. And while it wasn’t professional, it was necessary.

Beyond my obvious flaw, other weights keep shifting me off balance. Family stuff, the stress of school, our plans to move northward, trying to keep others afloat while they endure trials….well it all starts to wear on a sane person. It devastates a weaker one. The catalyst came from work, a place where I have felt increasingly at odds with everyone else around me. And work, is where this will all pivot tomorrow.

I won’t get into the specificities, but it’s enough to know that I balk when I feel discounted and when I surmise that people are more interested in playing games than getting a job done. I won’t pretend that I’ve been the easiest to work with, especially considering the world-view of some of my co-workers. It’s the emotional wear and tear I suffer from staying silent. I would make complaints to those higher than I, but I don’t want to become “that person.” My feet span a crevice - on the right are my personal beliefs, on the left is the need to maintain a paycheck and health insurance. I’m going to fall between these two eventually without help.

So, I came to some decisions this week. I very well may lose my job tomorrow for walking out. If I do, that will throw a few monkey wrenches in my plans. I plan on getting back on meds. I plan on working through this rough patch. I plan on not allowing myself to feel stupid for falling prey to this manic-madness. But it all hinges on tomorrow.

So, what have I been doing for these past days? Today David and I rode the General Van Fleet Trail and I saw a wild turkey. It’s very very rural and we had to turn back because we knew we were far from the nearest water station. We managed to eek out to just over twenty-five miles in a couple hours. The trail’s straight, flat surface belied some difficulty, but I loved it nonetheless. You ride upon a paved railroad track, and like all rail roads, it goes into some far off places. But the cool thing is the sound. You can’t hear anything except the wilds. Both humbling and magnificent, I felt at ease out there. We plan on going again next weekend.

We had dinner with Vanya and Tim last night. They were kind enough to make us vegetarian curry. Vanya’s been giving me hell for going all veggie and dinner was filled with good spices and endless ribbing about my leaving all meat behind.

David and I shopped for his coming birthday (it’s the 12th - and he would like gift cards from Orange Cycle). I got him the helmet he wanted and we both bought funny socks. Mine say “Bad Kitty” and he has one pair with a samurai on them. We are very easily amused.

I would say more, but I am beyond exhausted from our ride today. I’m sorry if this sounds incoherent, but I thought I would post before I headed to work in the morning. I think, for better or for worse, things will change with the morning. And I can’t wait.