Oh my...

I was certainly in a mood on Saturday.

Still don't regret a single word.

Thoughts on friends

I've been thinking about friends a lot the past couple of weeks. I finally had my long-awaited monthly meltdown last night because I hadn't been talking to G and I hadn't been blogging or journaling and I was keeping way too much shit inside me which I know I shouldn't do and I haven't been getting my butt out of the house often enough (I really do need to get out of the house every single day but lately it's been difficult) so there you go.

I thank God for CV because I do not know what I would do without her. I also thank God for G (and the library) because he helps keep me on an even keel and he's himself. (Please note that I put CV ahead of G in this list even though he's the number one person in my life.) I am grateful for TA because she didn't bother and harass me for her tablecloth even though I made her wait a long time and I'm sure she wanted to bug me. I would have wanted to bug me. I'm grateful for BSB because I know that she's going to be there for me no matter what. I was glad to see M&E last night because she knows what it's like to be mentally ill and her heart was in the right place and I think she was partially what I needed. I wish I saw RDVC more often because she makes me feel good about myself because she is just so incredibly nice and has a way of making the people around her happy to be there. I just want to gather these people in a huge monstrous hug and hold them tight and never let go.

There's no judgment from any of these people and I appreciate that so much. What's more, there's an understanding that maybe I do need some help now and then and a major understanding that just because it doesn't look like my leg is broken doesn't mean I'm not sick. Life has been a struggle for me the past few months (but I'm really glad I made it past July without a suicide attempt since July is a hot spot for me) and every one of you has helped me more than you know. Thank you for your acceptance and for your kindness and for sticking around.

I thought about phrasing this post in such a way that nobody would be offended then I realized that I don't care right now if you're offended or not. There are people not on this list who I still adore but they haven't been helpful (HD, DR, and OBK spring to mind) because they haven't been in a position where they've had to be or could be. Then there are people who aren't on this list because you didn't help the situation. You probably don't realize who you are and that's fine because I do.

You know who really bothers me though? The people who are dealing with their own mental illness who don't seem to understand that I'm dealing with mine. You'd think they'd be capable of cutting a person some slack and they aren't or they don't. I'd like to thank all of them for their understanding and their assistance in their removal from my life.

It's a good one this time

I'm in the Fairfax South County building using the facilities at Access Fairfax, minding my own business (as usual).

First I have to tell the woman next to me that I can hear the music coming out of her computer. Multiple times. She finally took the earbuds out and realized her mistake.

Then, the good one. The best one in several days. The man sitting next to me asks me what county we're in. My stupid-meter is set on very low and I asked him if he was serious, then looked at him like he was stupid and said, "Fairfax?"

Yeesh.

Shoot me now.

Had to share

Just so everyone knows why the jackass is now a jackass, here's a transcript of the voicemail he left me:

I can't believe this shit, that you could not pick up on me. It's bullshit, Carol. My name is [jackass]. You know who it is and, I think you're being very disingenuous, and I think it's really wrong of you. Call call me back and tell me that... um... it's not true. If you don't call me back and tell me that it's true, then I will absolutely disregard you. I'm sorry but that's the way I feel, okay? So anyway call me back, I hope you're doing well, and take care yourself. Alrighty then. Love you, mean it. Not. Bye.

 

Why in the world would I want someone in my life who spews this level of vileness at me when I choose (or not, perhaps I didn't hear it ring) not to answer my phone? Or maybe it's just that I don't do what he tells me to do or wants me to do.

 

Did I mention he's an alcoholic?

 

Yeah, reason #2 to not want this person in my life.

 

 

I found them!!!

I thought they had left me, but I was wrong. I'm still surrounded by whackadoodles!!

First, there was the bus driver who was convinced I didn't know what bus I was on and it was the wrong one in any case. No, really, I know my bus lines. I know that the 162 swings by the hospital AND the library and I got on it for a reason.

While on the bus, there was a woman who thought it was all about her. The bus driver points out to me that this is the library (no, really?), just as I'm reaching up to request the stop. Another person flips out that he's talking and she doesn't want to go to the library and why is he telling her that this is the library, because she wants to go to the hospital and this is the bus that goes to the hospital, right? Ummm, it isn't all about you. There are other people on the bus.

Then, when I left the library and went to get off at my next stop, there was the woman who decided she had to block the door otherwise the bus would run off without her and the people who were running to reach the bus. I said "excuse me" twice, she didn't budge and I knew I could win that game. So I stood there, blocking progress, until she moved and let me off the bus. That was fun.

G and I went into Old Towne on Wednesday, via the REX because it's a really easy ride. A woman who's been on the bus for a while leans over when we're at Huntington and asks someone if this is the bus to King Street. Well, gee, it only says that its destination is King Street Station on the front and why didn't you look before you got on, you twit? Then, on our way back, the same woman walks over and asks if this is the stop for the REX to Huntington. Not that she's going to Huntington, but, really, the bus from King Street only goes one way (south). We waited to see if she asked at Huntington if this was the bus to Fort Belvoir. Thank heavens that didn't happen.

And, of course, there are always the people at AccessFairfax who sit by the printer and look at you like you have a third eye in the middle of your forehead when you have the nerve to go over and pick up your printouts. It's there for all of us and we can share and we'd also appreciate it if you didn't flip your nasty hair and hit us with it. Twice. (And then there was the guy who freaked out because I had something in the middle of his stuff and what in the world was that. Yeesh. Again, it isn't all about you.)

But the best whackadoodles are the insidious ones. You know, the ones just stop speaking to you and make the massive mistake of leaving an unfinished project in your possession that you were working on for them. Now I get to wonder when or if she's going to grow balls enough to ask for it back. (Yes, it's been frogged because I'm not a saint.)

Just the same old whackadoodle

You gotta love it... I appear to have acquired a permanent whackadoodle in my life. Goodness knows every time I hear his name, I get brand new blog fodder.

First, he has a court date because he was arrested on a marijuana possession charge. Except it's the same day as the first day of the Allgood music festival, so he's decided to blow off the court date. The man is facing jail time but it's more important that he not miss his music festival so there you go. Is this where I mention that he's also refusing to spend money on an attorney? He's decided to go pro se. And that's all that needs to be said on that incident.

And then there's the next one, which also happens to be one of my pet peeves. If I ask you to do something, then I owe you for that. If you do something for me that I don't ask you to do for your own reasons, especially if it doesn't specifically benefit me, then I don't owe you squat. Guess what my whackadoodle does on a regular basis.

Seems JTMA (why, yes, JTA has received an upgrade) isn't fond of the person he's staying with at the moment so he tries to find other things to do that don't involve being at home. (The person isn't any happier with JTMA than JTMA is with him, but it's his house so it's his rules.) The other day, he decided he was 17 years old and went to G's place of work to hang with him. And, yes, we know that that's something teenagers do which is why G kind of chased him off since G is most definitely not a teenager and doesn't want to lose his job. Now, JTMA came there of his own free will to pick G up and possibly hang with him in order to avoid going home. First, G comes out with a chicken salad sandwich that was provided by the boss and JTMA wants a bite and whines when G points out how small the sandwich is about why he can't just have one bite. (This is also an old story where JTMA is concerned; whatever you have he always wants just one little bite.)

G needed to make a couple stops which he would have done on his own had JTMA not been there. The punchline here is that when G wanted to go home, JTMA pitched a fit, informed him that gas isn't free, and told him to go buy him a six-pack of Natural Light (yes, it's beer, and not one I'd ever heard of before meeting JTMA.) G demurs, JTMA insists, and G goes back into the store and buys him a six-pack. G then spends the next couple days going to meetings because the last thing he needed to do was buy beer. And, of course, when G told me what had happened, I was pissed. I was so pissed if JTMA had shown up at the front door, he'd have gotten ripped up one side, down the other, and through the middle because Ms. Protective would have shown up and informed JTMA just what a Massive Asshole he is. Really and truly off-pissing.

JTMA is a control freak who doesn't really think of anyone else, or should I say he appears to do something out of the kindness of his own heart but he's really holding a chip which he cashes in when he decided he wants something or he's mad at you or something. Oh, and did I mention he's an alcoholic which is the last thing G needs to have in his life right now, but I know how hard it is to cut ties even though you know you should. I knew that I needed to cut ties (with an exception or two) because of my depression but I didn't and now I'm paying the price. As someone I know once said, "You're depressed? Depression is a debilitating illness? But it doesn't look like your leg is broken." And, yes, he understood exactly how debilitating depression is. So G needs to make new friends who aren't alcoholics or druggies and I know exactly how difficult that is.

Hockey, forever and ever

When the score was 1-0 last night in the Capitals game against Winnipeg, I stated that it was over and the Capitals had won the Southeast Division. The next thing I heard was a snort at my early call of the game, only to have someone eat his snort later in the evening when the score was a 5-3 final. Someone should really learn to have more faith in me, shouldn't he?

And I have an annoyance with some of the professional hockey analysts. I saw a goal breakdown between Steven Stamkos and Alex Ovechkin, with Ovechkin being criticized for most of his goals coming against the Southeast Division, which is apparently filled with pansy teams. (Of course, they fight hard against the pansy designation, but they should all realize now that they're pansies and roll over and play dead. Besides, it isn't like the Southeast has ever produced one Stanley Cup winner, let alone two, right? Oops, forgot about Carolina and Tampa Bay.) Stamkos was praised for the majority of his goals coming against the remainder of the Eastern Conference while, once again, Ovechkin is a pansy goal-scorer.

My curiosity is this: Stamkos and Ovechkin are both in the Southeast Division. If the Southeast Division is such a cakewalk (yeah, try playing Carolina and Tampa six times a year), why doesn't Stamkos have even more goals than he does. After all, if Ovechkin scores 56% (or whatever his percentage is) of his goals against the Southeast, shouldn't Stamkos have a similar, if not higher percentage? Since scoring against the Southeast is such a piece of cake, after all, and Stamkos is far superior to Ovechkin, why is Ovechkin's percentage of Southeast goals higher than Stamkos? I love it how the analysts like to compare apples and oranges and actually occasionally make it sound reasonable to someone who isn't able to think for him or herself.

Okay, 'nuf said. I'm done whining now.

Expiration Dates

Okay, if you know me, you probably know about me and the expiration date. If you don't, then it goes something like this: 90 days, out the door. So if I'm seeing someone, they get 90 days and then I'm bored and they are out the door and it's over. It's worked for me without fail with one exception.

I haven't shared the expiration date with G because, well, I just didn't. By the time I thought maybe I should, I decided that maybe I shouldn't. If you'd seen the reaction to my April Fool's joke on him (not the one from FB, where I told the world that we'd gotten married), you'd understand.

G's 90 days are about up.

I've been fretting about it because I don't want him to have an expiration date. And, yes, I know what that means. If I don't want him to have an expiration date, then he won't have one. Except that lack of an expiration date puts him in that rarified air that currently only contains one resident. And if you know who that resident is, you know how serious this is.

This is truly serious.

And, as an aside, how 'bout them Caps??? I know I'm prolly going to be wearing my jersey tonight while we don't listen to the radio because 1500AM has entirely too much static and they aren't on 106.7 any longer. (Rotten strike, I hate you.)

Amusing anecdote: There's a homeless colony (for lack of a better word) down on Route 1 just before the Burger King that now has a mailbox. I know about this colony because a friend of mine tried to join it because they were homeless and she was homeless, except they ran her off. Right fast. The other day, G showed the location to JTA, telling him it was a homeless colony. JTA declared that it wasn't a homeless colony, but instead some sort of government conspiracy. Before you roll your eyes at that one, you should also know that JTA also calls the jet trails you see behind airplanes "chem trails" because there's a government conspiracy to poison and kill everyone by spewing chemicals out of the engines of those big planes. Yeah, really. No, it isn't always possible to be around him, but I will tell you that it's kind of interesting having your own personal whackadoodle around.

Annoyances

So I've been, essentially, kicked out of Gartlan because I'm not sick enough. Yeah, sure, whatever. It really annoys me sometimes that people don't believe I am mentally ill just because I don't look like I am. Seriously, we look like everyone else until we start talking to walls (and we only talk to the walls because the walls talk to us). For those of us who don't talk to walls, this is really irritating because I cover extremely well so people see what they want to see and don't see the me who might be having a horrible day.

Or because my hospitalizations didn't start until this past August, so I'm not really depressed, right? Wrong. I was having severe panic attacks at the age of six. Go ahead, tell me I didn't learn to cope with the depression until Mark's illness made it so that I couldn't cope any longer.

It is truly off-pissing.

You have to wonder...

I was told a couple months ago that someone wanted to be friends with me until one of us died. And said person hasn't spoken to me, or has barely acknowledged my existence, for the last couple of months. In fact, he has barely spoken to me since the last time I saw him at the end of January. Sometimes I feel as though I shouldn't be nearly as trusting as I am. Gee, I wonder why.

And I had a whackadoodle moment today!!!

It wasn't directed at me personally, but instead affected an entire bus full of people. I got on the bus at my stop, like I usually do. Paid my fare, sat down and hoped we'd be at Ladson Lane before the next bus I  needed to catch (we were, so that's all good). This woman gets up from her seat and pulls the cord to request the next stop. We get there and she says, "oh no, not this one, the next one." Ummm... okay. We get to the next stop and she doesn't get off. She had to be informed a couple of times that this was the last stop before Ladson Lane. The bus driver closes the doors, opens the doors, closes the doors and the woman finally says that she's going to WalMart. Ummm... that's two more stops, not a total of one, or two, but a minimum of four. I wish people would learn to count or at least have a clue where they're going instead of making us stop needlessly at every single stop while they figure it out.

Been a while...

Why, yes, it has been a while...

What can I say, I've been a tad preoccupied with my real life, such as it is.

However, I went to Old Towne with G on Friday and we stopped in at fibre space and it turned into old home week. G was an incredibly good sport about that and I really appreciate it. I was also informed that I have to keep blogging because not blogging makes people worry. So very sorry about that. Really don't make people worry on purpose. It's purely accidental.

And I had a lovely birthday this weekend, brought to me by G himself. I don't know what I'd do without that man.

Even JTA may have redeemed himself by buying me three (yes, three) balls of Rowan Lima in the colorway Chile. Now that is some serious scrumptiousness on my fingers and I adore the braided construction. And it's so much better than the novelty stuff he got me at the thrift store. However, I may have to explain the concept of aging in stash to him because he feels I should have already started knitting with it.

Now I'm off to look up baby sweaters because my wonderful cousin has requested one for her granddaughter's soon-to-be son. Plus I need to finish up my Heart Quilt baby blanket and that is a pain because the instructions aren't quite right. Darned good thing I know how to re-interpret these things, huh?

Have I mentioned that I don't know what I'd do without G? Yeah, because I really don't.

Where to start...

JTA has just gotten on my last nerve. I didn't even know I had a nerve left where he was concerned, but apparently I did. It's gone now.

JTA stopped by G's the other day and since I wasn't in the mood to tolerate someone who merely tries to not start drinking before noon, I got up and went into the bedroom and laid down. Best way I knew of to keep my mouth shut, per G's request. To those who know and love me, that's done now. I have been disrespected for the last time.

Yes, JTA doesn't particularly like women. In fact, JTA is a conspiracy theorist who doesn't like much of anyone.

He went to use the bathroom and the next thing I hear is him asking G if he needs to flush. G says "yes, of course" and JTA replies, loud enough for me to here, but not G, that he had to ask since this was a bachelor pad.

Ummm... no, it isn't. But apparently that point is lost on JTA. He wants me gone so he's going to try to passive-aggressive me out of G's life. Now if only G would see that one coming.

G was  informed that I'm done keeping my mouth shut and I'm really done being disrespected. Now I sound more like me.

Wowsa

I have turned into quite the prolific poster.

Not today though... change in meds and some baggage to consider.

I'm a Weather Girl

It's raining men!

So I have G in my life now and I am so very happy about that. What happens? On my way to South County this morning, this stray man who is obviously from Africa because he has a very thick accent slows down his walk a bit and asks where I'm headed and I told him. He asks for my phone number and I had to tell him (oh darn) that I have a boyfriend. When it finally sinks in, he says okay and starts walking at his normal pace, leaving me behind.

Not that I would have given him my phone number, but I have to wonder about the timing. I think that the happy is shining through and I also think that I'm a softer, gentler me because of it. The blush is in full force because of the happy and I know that people have noticed. Yesterday, when G picked me up at South County, we had to walk past a group of guys from Kennedy. Instant silence and every single eye was on the two of us. I asked G later if he'd noticed and he said that there seemed to be this strange silence/tension when we walked past and I told him what it was about. I don't know why the guys did that and they're absolutely normal when it's just me. It's just when it's the two of us that they get weird.

Now what I really want to know is where all these men have been the last four years. Until CV introduced me to DH, there was essentially nothing and no one. Well, that isn't entirely true, but one date in four years and that one sans teeth does not count.

JTA stopped by last night to deliver the new couch and I also got to meet Rob. JTA was doing some major suck up because he knew he'd been a jerk and I think Rob might have been all gaga because he finally got to meet me since he's heard so darned much about me from G. Rob wanted to dance and since I didn't know how to say no gracefully, I danced with Rob who isn't a bad dancer, but isn't my preferred partner. He made a comment about how long it had been since I'd danced and I told him that it had probably been the day before. He just said G dances? Oh, yeah, all the time. Of course Rob also got a little handsy and I told him about it and now G is also going to tell him to keep his hands to himself and that feels kinda good. I swear though, I have danced more in the last few days than in the past ten years.

And now for the obligatory whackadoodle story.

A little background: you get 45 minutes minimum on a computer at the library. When your time is up, you get a two-minute warning so you have time to close up what you're doing and get out of the way. What do I get? I get the woman whose crap is spread all over the computer, who hasn't put anything away, who hasn't cleaned anything up, and who is trying to log back on even though the log on screen has indicated that the computer is reserved for me. Then she pisses at me because she didn't clean up her mess in time and her flash drive is still in the computer. So I literally had to throw her off of the computer and, honestly, I'd expect better behavior out of a 12-year-old than she was exhibiting.

Now I know that you can just pull the flash drive out because nobody has logged into the computer, so it technically isn't active. What does she do? She screeches at me that I'm trying to destroy her flash drive. Why can't I just do her this one little favor and eject her flash drive? And why should I have to clean up her mess? And, yes, I told her so. Of course, since I'm always the bad guy, I was obviously the one who was just turning this into a massive drama. I informed her that no, I was not, she was the one making the scene, not me. Since her stuff was strewn about the floor by then, I think I got to win that one.

So now we all know. Whackadoodles still love me and they always will. If only G could get that sign off my forehead, instead of just threatening to put a "Property of G" sign there... 

This is a new one...

I don't think I've ever had to compete before with another man for a man's attention. And if you can get past that sentence, here goes...

G has a friend named John, hereinafter referred to as JTA (John the Asshole).

Last night, JTA decided he was going to cook for us, so while G was at his meeting, JTA came over and started cooking. I was journalling, listening to 94.7 on the radio, and welcomed the company. That was my first mistake.

Being a relatively polite person, I picked up my journal from where I was on the couch and moved to the dining room table in order to be a tad more sociable, but I continued with my journalling because I'm a woman and I can multi-task. JTA asked for the radio to be turned up so I obliged him. And that's when trouble started.

He bitched about my music, to the point where Coldplay was on the radio, which I really like, and JTA walks over, leans down to the tuner and starts going "blah blah blah" or whatever he said. It was rude, to say the least. He informed me that he'd had as much of that as he could take of my music and he was turning it off. In the middle of the song. Not a "do you mind if I turn it off?" Not a "hey, I'm flipping this after the next song, what can we agree on listening to?" Just. "I don't like this. Fuck you. I'm turning it off."

No, that was not the end.

He put Fleetwood Mac (talk about trite and insipid and I actually like Fleetwood Mac) on and turned the music up so incredibly loud that all I could do was put my hands over my ears and run for the door because I couldn't take it.

No, that was not the end.

I'm sitting there journalling, but still chit chatting. And suddenly, I get slammed for journalling. How dare I journal when he's there and when he came over early specifically to talk to me and spend time with me. Well, gee, I thought I'd been multi-tasking. Silly me. Oh, and he wanted to read it. G knows better than to ask to read it.

No, that was not the end.

He was looking at a bottle of hot sauce I'd bought earlier in the day and I mentioned that it was reserved for my making wings one night and that I'd gotten the recipe from my friend, Lee. His first question: is Lee a woman? Well, no, he isn't. So JTA asks if Lee and I are lovers. Then he backed off but it was too late. I informed him that Lee and I are just friends, no matter what may or may not have happened in the past.

No, that was not the end.

By that point I was so pissed off I couldn't see straight and I was sucking it up because of G. Because I know that JTA is one of G's friends. So when G got home, I went in to lay down because I knew I was going to start crying and I wanted to keep it to myself. JTA takes advantage and starts bitching at G that nobody gets to see him anymore because G, of course, now has a girlfriend. (Yes, I have excellent hearing.) I suddenly realized that I was running and hiding and that that really isn't me, so I was going to go out and give him a piece of my mind and G talked me out of it because JTA had been drinking and, frankly, JTA is an alcoholic (in my not-so-humble opinion).

All this from a man who wants me to help him with his computer problems. And everyone who knows me knows exactly what he can do with his computer problems right now, don't you?

I feel like it's a tug-of-war over G and I won't do that to him. G is going to have to make his own decision about who he wants to spend time with or who he doesn't. But I did warn G that the gloves are off and I'm not about to suck anything up anymore.

Now that sounds a lot more like me.

It never rains...

So I discovered the other morning that LS had taken up residence. Or at least he did for Sunday and Monday.

Why me? Why is the smartass always the one who gets in trouble? Why did it take me so darned long to figure that out?

Sunday night, the first person to see me was R. He starts laughing, asks where I've been, I blush, he laughs harder and starts making comments. Okay, one down.

Then I head downstairs. And there's C, "Sweet Lord Jesus, she's back and she's okay!" And my book is now up in front of my face because I'm even redder than I was and I have J and L both yelling at me because they didn't know where I was and they were ready to storm the castle, but they couldn't because they didn't know where the castle was and thank god I'm okay. So now I have a phone number I am to call if I'm not coming back.

It felt kinda good although I'm very sorry I worried everyone.

And now, for LS, the whackadoodle. Yes, I do mean Whackadoodle. He's still loony, but I may have fixed the stalker part. Time will tell since I don't know when I'll see him again, if ever and the "if ever" part seriously works for me. I'm sitting there clinging to any and every man I can in an effort to keep him away from me. And it's still all "Carol... Carol... Carol......" as I am running out the door. Not answering. Praying he gets the hint. Scared to death he won't and thank heavens someone upgraded himself because I was thinking that I might have to invoke the "boyfriend" word in order to make LS go away.

That was Monday morning.

Tuesday morning was better and worse, all at the same time. I came out of the ladies room and there's LS in the middle of the common area. Lovely, huh? Yeah and I get "Carol... Carol... Carol..." as I'm heading to the stairs to run down them and escape. I went outside and there's LS, smoking a cigarette (deal breaker! deal breaker!) and I see some stray guy who I've never spoken to before and I smile and chit chat with him for a minute, then S comes outside and I chit chat and laugh and giggle with him for a minute before heading back inside.

Still not sure that'll work, but that was surely a big fat hint if ever there was one.

Then, my third or fourth favorite smartass, R, tells me I wouldn't have these problems if I didn't smile. Has he met me? Does he not know that if I'm breathing, I'm either smiling or flirting, the two not being mutually exclusive? I even did a google search and found Saint Agatha who is a patron saint of torture victims. Since the last prayer of intercession seems to be working, I'm going to try it again and maybe she'll be able to keep LS away from me.


Wish me luck!

Ut oh...

My brain doesn't appear to be working today. I seem to be a tad incoherent.

I put a blog post up earlier and maybe I'll revisit it tomorrow.

Maybe.

Oh boy

Another day, another weekend long gone. And, boy, one minute it was Friday afternoon and five minutes later, it was Sunday. I think I'd like to have a weekend once in a while that lasts forever, but not because I'm bored. I want it to last forever because it just does. Or at least more than five minutes. I don't think I'm asking for too terribly much.

Maybe I am.

It appears that I'll be cooking dinner at some point in the near future. I do love to cook. I was told at one point this weekend that someone got excited when he heard that I knit because that meant that I could also cook. Yeah, well, he got that part right anyway.

So I'll be cooking one day this coming week. Pecan Turkey, mashed potatoes (from scratch), and some sort of green vegetable. No dessert because I can't have them and he isn't fond of sweets. Although maybe I could find something savory instead.

Hmmm...

No blog fodder

Well, I think we can safely write LG off as blog fodder. If you have the link to my private blog, you might get to read something.

Don't hold your breath.

Although I will admit that it wasn't quite as random as I originally thought it was.

Odds and ends

Yep, I got a new one yesterday. Some guy picked me up in the library (I was informed that he picked me up rather than vice versa.) Turns out we're both Civil War buffs although I'm much more likely to want to go walk a battlefield than he is. However, I did get a phone number and an half-assed invitation to watch a Civil War movie with him. Will I? Not on a first date, but, yeah, why not? Eventually. Amazingly, NDC is much more cautious than DC ever was.

Now, what happened yesterday that I knew I was going to be blogging about today... ummm... ummm... Library Guy (LG) was the closest I came to a whackadoodle although JB asked how I do what I do and would I please teach her. How do I teach someone the smile? And the eyes? I can't. However, when LG walked up, one of my books was sitting on the chair next to me and he asked if anyone was sitting there. I grabbed my book and said that it was just my book and it could sit on the floor just fine and I smiled. JB looked at me and said that that was really clever. What can I say? Vintage me.

I also told someone last night that her butt looked so good in her jeans that if we were both lesbians, I'd have to jump her. Thought she was gonna collapse on me. (Her butt looked really good in those jeans.)

And then there's my pet rant of the day: You can either talk to me or not. Pick one. Stick to it. Yes, CV, I'm talking about you. And now I'm running and ducking.

Gotta see when CV's next gig is... Maybe LG won't mind going even if it is loud and he can't chat.

See? Feisty. I'm firing on all cylinders this week.

ETA: LG just walked up to me, said my name, and put his hand on my shoulder. Twice. I threw the smile and said that I had been going to call him later. Looks like I'm "stuck" now. Very giddy.

Learning to be mean..........

I appear to have a stalker.

It's okay, he isn't a good stalker because I actually managed to evade him yesterday and he has not yet appeared today.

So there I was yesterday at South County in the computer lab and suddenly, there's LS. (Remember how I said he wasn't a good stalker?) LS comes up, says hi, and starts sucking up. Sucking up doesn't work on me and it just makes me think you're more pitiful than I already did. (Notice how absolutely none of my friends are suck ups.)

Well, I had an appointment on the fourth floor, so up I went to use the phone and, suddenly, I realize that LS is using the phone next to me. This is when I kinda freaked out because I missed that one completely. However... I am much smarter than LS looks, so I quietly stood up, gathered my stuff, and snuck out of the office to go down to the third floor where it was way too busy for me. Since it was too busy, I then snuck back down in the elevator to the first floor and headed over to the library.

Whew! I escaped.

The moral of the story: I am way too nice and way too polite. I have got to learn how to be far meaner than I am. I know I came through the last bout of depression with my edge back and I was certainly Ms. Feisty yesterday, but it's still difficult for me to not be nice. It may help that my favorite word is no.

Speaking of feisty, I was feisty beyond belief yesterday morning. Several of us were treated to someone deciding to preach at us first thing in the morning and my rather loud "enough" wasn't enough to shut him up. Fortunately, someone else managed to take care of that piece. Then he started ranting in a nice loud voice right next to me and I put my book down, put my hand up and said "No" twice. You know, when I think about it, I trained my dogs the same way. Now, he was taken aback at that one, but merely waited a few minutes and started in again in a more quiet tone of voice. That was when I looked at him and informed him that nobody was interested in being preached at quite that early in the morning. Now that shut him up and I received more than one expression of thanks.

Cut to later in the day when I had my stuff sitting in front of my seat and someone came up and put a Trader Joe's bag in my chair. She put it down and I picked it right back up and said, "No." Now that freaked her out too but I still made it stick.

Right before that happened, I was accused of making strange finger gestures and pointing at someone. I informed her that I hadn't been doing that and inquired how the paranoia worked for her. Yes, I really did. I asked about her paranoia.

Was that it? Of course not, I had more to go and that's because Faux-Lia decided to attack me verbally. Mark always used to say I shouldn't have a battle of wits with an unarmed person but sometimes it's just too difficult to resist. I had been told by the owner to remove a backpack and take his seat and Faux-Lia decided it was her mission in life to correct me on my non-misconception. Now, if you've ever met Faux-Lia, you know she won't let go and she won't let go and she won't let go until she has not only beaten the dead horse, but flayed it and cut it up into steaks too. I looked at her yesterday afternoon and informed her that I didn't need to listen to her crap and walked off, leaving her stammering and saying that all she did was tell me, etc. Yeah, it started there and it would not have stopped until I smacked her anyway. Faux-Lia got all freaked because I used to be one of the few people who was nice to her and still speaking to her. And let me tell you that speaking to her is not easy because she's a little... ummm... crazy. She informed me once that page 1000-whatever of Obamacare stipulates that we are all going to be microchipped. She also told me that she was one test away from getting her R.N. license but they wouldn't let her take the test because she came in all bruised from domestic violence. You know, it's not that I don't believe her, it's just that I don't believe her.

::thud::  <-- head hitting table

I'm convinced that there was some higher power at work yesterday keeping me safe.

Brace yourself...

I am too nice. I need to learn how to be mean or, if not,  at least impolite.

Yesterday's stray person has turned into today's "make it go away" person especially when I've spoken with Ms. L and she gave me a list of what said person said/did to her and it matched verbatim. And that means I'm going to have to be mean. Now, I proved this morning that I could be mean or if not mean, at least assertive. Someone was being obnoxious by preaching first thing in the morning. So I started with "no" and my hand held up and that shut preacher boy up. However, preacher boy didn't remain quiet so I had to turn back around and inform him that it was too early in the morning to listen to someone preach. Now that shut him up.

Oh lordie, SP (stray person) just showed up here and I think I may be in trouble now if he's actually trying to track me down. Gonna have to start working on the mean and I think I know exactly what to do. Fingers crossed, I'm going to be able to make it stick.

SP just appeared and I made it stick. Yay for me!!!!!

Here we go again

Is there a sign on my forehead that says "please, I really really want you to talk to me even though I really really don't"?

I was out and about this afternoon and here comes some stray guy... well, maybe not that stray since we were both at PRS (I was supposed to meet JB, who hadn't shown up by 2:30 so here I am at the library... btw, don't ask, I'm not telling). But, in a nutshell, I get "Hi, how are you? Do you come here often? Are you going to be around later?" And I just sit there, being as polite and pleasant as I can possibly be without being over-encouraging.

I don't think it worked.

Again... me and the crazy... why? Was I bad in a former life? Is karma coming back to bite me in the ass?

On a semi-related note, a friend, JB, wants me to co-author a book with a friend of hers. Seems she thinks I can write even though she's never even seen a sample and she thinks that G's writing could benefit from my sense of humor and then we could both share the royalties. I'll have to think about it.

On an unrelated note, people who don't answer e-mails where I ask specific questions and/or answer my questions very vaguely really annoy me. Be precise. Say what you mean or don't say anything at all. Seems I may have surprised someone this weekend when I said he could have the last buffalo shrimp. Maybe he didn't think I meant it, maybe he thought I'd change my mind. Ummmm... no. Wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it. Although, then again, maybe I was just being polite after all.

I also did something this weekend that I haven't done for a very, very long time. (No, not that. Well, yes, that but something else and get your mind off the webcam, JB.)

I finally managed to walk a Civil War battlefield for the first time in years. Probably 20 years or more. And let me tell you that it will not be another 20 years before I walk another one. Seems Cold Harbor has a one-mile trail that circles what's left of the battlefield. And what's left is a lot of the earthworks and trenches. As you walk the trail, there are signposts explaining what you're looking at. Next time I go, I also want to hit Gaines' Mill, which is right around the corner from Cold Harbor. If it's even close to as good as Cold Harbor is, I'm right there with it. Of course, most of both battlefields are gone because of location, location, location, but it's still fun to stand in the middle and just imagine what it looked like in the still before the battle was engaged. (No, I do not imagine the battles nor do I imagine the aftermath. Way too gruesome for me.)

Going to karaoke tonight since I haven't been for a couple of weeks and I really need to talk to Ms. CV.

Second chances

So, in the midst of my depression, I met someone who I really liked. And I screwed it up because of the depression and I do mean really screwed it up.

But sometimes you get a second chance. I started chatting with this person a couple days ago and decided to go ahead and ask him out. Sort of. I actually asked him if he'd like to go for a walk and chat because I know he's all about the chatting. (No CV gigs for him.)

He said yes, expanded on my suggestion, and asked when I was thinking of doing this. Since I hadn't gotten that far, I had to wing my response (I can do fly by the seat of my pants occasionally) but I'm pretty excited about it. Sometimes you do get a second chance.

I am...

Positive affirmations are a wonderful way of dealing with a lack of self-confidence, self-worth, and depression.

I am beautiful.
I am funny.
I am special (and I don't mean in a short bus kind of way).
I am loveable.
I am likable.
I am a good friend.
I am talented.
I am incredibly intelligent.
I am vivacious and flirtatious.
I am a slice of fabulous drizzled with awesome sauce (thanks, CV)
I am also getting my hair cut before I tear it out (no, not really, but there are days).
I have gorgeous, dancing eyes
I have a wonderful smile.
I attract good people and want them in my life.
I may even be willing to celebrate my birthday this year and not just with Cathy (yes, CV, that may be express, written permission to embarrass me.)
I am grateful for my meds.
I am...

Now that that's done, I'd like to point out that positive and negative connotations don't really exist except in our own minds. There is only neutral until we assign it a value.

That said, tell yourself ten nice things about yourself today. And, if you're really good, you can look yourself in the eye in the mirror when you do it.

I stand in awe

So I was just watching a clip of Ovechkin's highlights from playing in the KHL this year with Dynamo Moscow.

Wow.

I realize that they edited out his crappy plays, but even at that, the man is awesome.

Hopefully he's the Ovi we're going to be getting this year.

http://news.sport-express.ru/2013-01-15/560866/

Edited to add that I just found out the Capitals at Verizon are ranked #6 in Stadium Journey's Top 101 Best Stadium Experiences of 2012.

Is it on my right? Or my other right?

So someone was looking for the laundromat today and she was told it was on the right.

Her response: "Which right?"

My thought: There's only one. But what I said was "It's on YOUR right." I don't think it sunk in.

Think before you open your mouths, people. Really. And I'll try to do the same, but I do have that bad habit of thinking with my mouth hanging open.

I think I need a filter.

Speaking of which, well, not really... Turns out I'm much more interested in the Capitals' new coach than I am in the Caps themselves. I'm all Oatesy, all the time. Who cares what the players are doing? Tell me all about the coach.

I remember an interview he did with Barry Melrose many years ago, when he was still playing for the Capitals. He started talking about teaching the younger guys how to do things without making it look like he was actually teaching them. He also talked about the physics of the game and what it took to land a pass perfectly so that the forward could just shoot the puck as it hit his stick. I saw that a couple times with Oates and Bondra, right off the face-off and it was a thing of beauty. Closest I've seen to those passes is the one Alexander Semin made a few years ago that floated over the defenseman's stick and landed right where Tomas Fleischmann needed it to score. The reporters started talking about Flash's pass and all the guys could talk about was Sasha's pass.

Every goal starts with a pass.

what a day

I despise rain.

I despise people informing me that I'm cold.

I'm not overly fond of inquiring about jobs for people only to be told that it would be too much work for them to apply even though I have a name for them to drop that would about guarantee employment.

That may be all that's irritating me today.
At least so far.

The comfy and the uncomfy

I hate it when I can't sleep. I toss and I turn and I turn and I toss.

Then I had the joy of sitting with some stray guy this morning who I didn't know who decided he had to tell me all about how lonely he was, like I was going to fix that for him (NOT!).

He asked if I was married and I said I was widowed and tried to go back to my book. He said he wanted to get married which instantly made me ask why and then I answered my own question by saying he wanted to someone to come home to. He agreed and started talking about cuddling, etc. I gave up and turned my book off. I tried to tell him that marriage doesn't necessarily fix the loneliness, but he wasn't buying it. I'm sure he'll find out some day, the hard way.

So what is it that makes people think I want to hear all about their problems and their issues. What is it that makes people think I'm suddenly their best buddy when, trust me, I'm not. Oh, wait, it's that whackadoodle thing, isn't it?

I met a younger woman recently who, for some reason, decided I was her substitute mother and got all excited when she saw me yesterday and came at me for a hug. (Yes, CV, I tolerated.) I really don't know her and I more than likely never will, although it was good to see yesterday that she was okay. And then there was the guy today who started unburdening himself.

I really wish someone would tell me what it is that I do so I could stop doing it. Oh, who am I kidding? I love (yikes!) talking to people. Gawd, when did that happen?

And if I tell Ms. D about it, she'll just crack up at me.

I get no sympathy.

Back to the funny

Today's lesson, boys and girls, is all about sugar.

Or why you should keep it away from me at all times, at all costs.

This lesson was learned the hard way last night by some people who didn't know better then, but do now. They let (like they could have stopped me) me have a Cherry Coke. Mistake, big big mistake. Caffeine AND sugar, right before bed. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

I was bouncing off the ceiling. I was outside in the cold wearing flip flops. I wanted to go dancing. I was wearing people out just listening to me talk because it was fairly nonstop. Every time someone said something, I had a response for it. I was ON last night. I even read the majority of a book I've been dying to read last night. And then I couldn't sleep.

And 6:00 came around horrifyingly early.

No sugar tonight. No sugar ever. Sugar is bad.

There is always the capacity for joy

I want to be friends until one of us dies.

Wow.

Hearing that will definitely set you on your ear. I can tell you my jaw hit the floor and I believe I may have been temporarily speechless. Yes, Cathy, these things do happen from time to time.

This followed NG asking me if he was a toxic person. Points to me for not falling back on my old tried and true, "If you have to ask, the answer is no" and actually answering the question. Not exactly my strength, but this also happens from time to time. I'm really working here on giving straight answers to straight questions and not making people pull teeth. Yes, CV, these things do happen from time to time.

NG also told me yesterday that I am wickedly funny and I don't know many people who will disagree with that. In fact, some people would say my sense of humor is downright evil. Like making someone laugh at me when I know that CM will think he's really laughing at her or like suggesting that the next time CM decided to watch television in her towel, someone should push her out the door, closing the door and grabbing the towel. Now, would I really do that? Absolutely not, but it's kind of fun to think about. So, you see, I am evil; really, I am.

Apparently, however, my sense of humor managed to show through my depressed state because when I started talking to, and met, NG, I was severely depressed. When I look back, I can see just how bad things were. I was nearly silent (yes, really, these things do happen from time to time). I broke out of it on Saturday night to a point but I don't know how I made it there and back without running into an embankment. Seriously. And I had a lovely time while I was there, but hindsight is 20/20 and maybe I shouldn't have gone. Then again, maybe I only made it another week because I did.

I'm reminded of a scene in Firefly, in the episode "War Stories," when Niska says, "Now we will meet the real you." NG may actually think I'm quiet... and somewhat submissive... and probably not opinionated in the slightest. I'm looking forward to seeing NG again and this time, he gets to meet the real me, all piss and vinegar.

By the way, it isn't too late yet to run the otherway. I'll just give the object I'm knitting for you to someone else. (Yes, CV, you know what it is.)

Bad Day

It's a bad day.
I have nothing to say.

Sometimes things aren't what they seem

So, CM lost her bed last night and then went crying to anyone who would listen that she'd lost her bed, acting all surprised like she hadn't caused a major uproar the night before. She had to go downstairs to Overflow and was told to stay there.

Down the stairs she went and right back up.

She was guided down the stairs again and right back up.

She accused people of laughing at her when they were laughing at something else entirely. Of course, my evil sense of humor made me make the poor person laugh which made her even crazier.

Down the stairs yet again and right back up.

Then back down the stairs again. And there she stayed. At least until they went and got her and she ended up leaving with the Fairfax County Police officer.

We all thought it meant she'd get the help she needs. She's either over- or under-medicated, but I know her medication isn't right and I'm a lay person.

This morning, there she was, causing trouble as usual. She has to behave herself for 30 days in order to come back upstairs. Day One didn't go so well.

Not anticipating anything different for Day Two.

Side note: yes, I'm keeping a scorecard with all the abbreviations I'm using for people's names. If I didn't, I'd be so lost myself it isn't funny.

I found me one!

So last night, I found me a whackadoodle!!!!! D was telling someone about her day and I really have no idea what she was actually saying because I wasn't paying attention. Well, turns out CM was very unhappy with the conversation and started in on the cussing.

Was there cussing? Probably, but not that registered with me, so it couldn't have been the f-bomb every other word.

There is something horribly amusing, though, in someone actually saying, "I'm a Christian woman and I don't cuss, you m-----f-----s." Paraphrased, but close enough. Unfortunately, this was my high stress, loud, chaotic situation that sent me spiralling. But I dealt enough to find it amusing.

Reminds me of two other incidents.

J: "I have so much debt, I cannot believe how much debt I have."
C: "But you just bought a second car."
J: "Oh, but I sold stock and paid cash for it."

Really now....... didn't occur to you to sell stock and pay down your debt instead?

And then there was B, who went on a hunger strike before breakfast. She refused to go to breakfast, but staff brought breakfast back for those who hadn't gone. About five-ten minutes later, there was B, chowing down on her breakfast. Maybe she didn't  know what "hunger strike" means.

So, there you go...

I found out today that one of Mark's great-nephews was killed in a car accident in Jacksonville, Florida and I actually had to think about my response. Why? Because they're part of the family who decided that I no longer existed after Mark died. In the end, decency won out and I did my usual, "My thoughts are with you" but I had to think about it. Not used to having to think about doing what's appropriate.

Gotta talk to the doctor about something for my anxiety because I found myself in a very stressful, loud, chaotic situation last night and really could have used some Ativan. I only wanted 0.5mg because I knew that would take the edge off but I had nothing. I still despise loud noises and they make me very upset.

Also speaking, or singing (which I refused to do), about last night... it's about me. I am the center of my world and my attention and if you don't like it, you're more than welcome to leave my world. Trust me when I tell you that I will not miss you.

If you want to touch me and I say no, you don't get to be all offended because it isn't about you. Remember that I'm no longer the kinder, gentler Carol who came out of Crisis Care and I'm starting to think that she was a mask I wore in order to cope and convince everyone that I was okay. My brick walls are back up and you'd best wait for an invitation before you do anything more than wave at me from across the room. There are a couple exceptions to that rule, Ms. and Mr. CV, and you both know it. (There are a few other exceptions and you'll figure out who you are as time goes on.) Most people are not exceptions to this rule. Deal with it; it isn't about you.

No bright spots today. At least not yet.

Just one thought: This coming up with something to write on a daily basis sucks. I may actually have to take a day or three off. I've also noticed I had a lot more page views when I was funny. Funny will still appear, just not all the time.

Thinking about friends

I have some of the most awesome friends a person could ever have (CV, DK, SG, and RC, to name a few), which is why I have something of a dilemma at the moment. I met someone when I was depressed and tiptoeing along that lovely cliff, who I really like. I enjoy this person's company and he/she/it makes me laugh (keeping the clues to a minimum here, folks).

So, the dilemma is this: I don't know that I want to keep this person around. I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea, which kind of confuses me because I like to keep people around who I like because they're a pretty special bunch.

So do I want this person as a friend? As an FWB? As something more? Well, not the something more because the next six months (at least) have "me" written all over them. The FWB? Well, back on the Zoloft, so there's no point in that either. <sigh> So, friends... or maybe just FB friends. Except I'm feeling an urge to unfriend this person.

I understand unfriending people when I'm isolating myself and getting ready to go right on over that cliff. I understand unfriending people who are bad for me when I'm in recovery from that ole cliff header. Wanting to unfriend someone who has been nothing but kind and who I like, is very confusing.

So, the word of the day is passive. I will not initiate any contact and will let this person to come to me. And isn't that exactly what a friend would do anyway?

Bright spot of the day: I met a new person, S, who's 18 and has decided I'm his second "mom." (Apparently he hasn't spoken to my stepson any time lately.) So, he has given himself five days to wear me down into agreeing to be his second "mom" and I have those same five days to resist. Last night's attempt ended in my saying, "Yeah, good luck with that." I imagine I'll be saying that a lot over the next five days because S has no idea the size of the task he has just undertaken.

Thought of the day: The mentally ill look like everyone else. At least until they start talking to the walls. Or start rambling on with paranoid fantasies.

That was fast.......

I know I said I was going to be blogging more, but this is fast even for me and we all know how much I talk (even if Shawn talks more than me).

Observation: I'm at the library, surrounded by people, yet utterly alone and I'm perfectly comfortable. Yesterday morning, the anxiety was absolutely destroying me at the knitting group.

Conclusion: I'm comfortable with myself but other people seem to scare the hell out of me.

Somehow, I'm not surprised.

At Long Last... I have re-arrived

So I prepared a blog post last night that just turned into a DH bashing, which made me very unhappy, so I decided to re-write it. Then, because I didn't think my usual four-five pass edit would make it any less vitriolic, I canned it. Well, it's still in my notebook, but I highly doubt it will ever see the light of day.

Instead I have something else in mind... the various reactions I've been receiving to people realizing that I have major depressive disorder and, let me tell you, I have a couple of doozies.

Here goes...

We ask for help. Really, we do. And we do it in any number of ways. We isolate ourselves and wish someone would notice that we aren't around. We become barely functional and wish the people we live with would ask what's going on. We really wish someone would notice and get us to a hospital.

But sometimes nobody sees because we're just that good at covering and the people who think they know us don't have a clue (and sometimes those people seem to enjoy putting us on an emotional yo-yo). Sometimes, when we atually admit that we're off our meds, the person who sees us isolating and spiralling just doesn't care or says that it isn't his problem.

So I forgive you for that thought because I know you had it and I know you said it. I'll even pretend you're ignorant and didn't understand what it meant when I said I had gone off my Zoloft even though you knew I'd only been back on it for two months. I'm so good at pretending that I'll even ignore the fact that you've had daily dealings with someone who's mentally ill before.

The reason I can do all of that is because you actually stopped a suicide attempt by being an asshole and that sent me to the hospital to get the help I needed.

Now I just have to get off that darned Zoloft because I hate it. I despise it. Zoloft totally sucks. The psychiatrist promised me Celexa and I had to go get really sick and need my exotic antibiotics and boom! there's the Zoloft again because Celexa and antibiotics don't mix well. (Of course, this is the same doctor who heard me say I used Mirapex for my restless legs and still gave me Requip, which wasn't the right dosage and you should have heard me at the nurses' desk that night telling them that if the doctor didn't fix this, I was going to keep him awake all night too since I was going to be awake. Apparently I yelled enough to get a sleeping pill and some neurontin for the pain.) But since I was promised Celexa, I'm going to get it if I have to jump up and down and  yell and scream until I'm blue in the face. Well, except I usually only do the jump up and down and yell and scream when I'm depressed and off my meds because you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar and I've discovered I can work miracles by being sweet. (Yes, it is against my nature to be sweet but I'm good at faking it. The sweetness, that is.)

But I've gone off-topic.

When you mention that you're depressed, you get asked what you have to feel sad about or what you feel sad about. Yeah, trust me when I tell you that sad doesn't begin to cover it. Sad would be an improvement over my utter inability to move (turns out Sasha was the only reason I didn't stay in bed all day).

Then there's the people who tell you to put on your big girl panties and get on with it or they tell you to get your head out of your ass. Yeah, wish I could. I wish I didn't have a chemical imbalance in my brain, but, unfortunately, I do. And if that was all it took to get moving, I'd be halfway to Chicago by now.

Then there's the guy who actually heard me say I was suicidal and I guess he decided that thinking about someone else would fix everything  and said, "How could you do that to me?" Yeah, because it's all about you. I want to hurt myself, but it's all about you. I know you wish it was all about you, but this time it gets to be all about me, unfortunately. Of course, this is also the guy who asked if I meant anything I said in my depressed state. And the answer to that would be a resounding no. (And if you didn't ask, the answer doesn't apply because I know that someone out there is going to wonder if I'm talking about him. If you have to ask, the answer is that I'm not, yeesh.)

Finally, there's the person who thinks you just do it for the attention. Seriously. Yes, I put myself through the agony of cutting my flesh open because I want a little bit of attention. That is, of course, if I even survive the attempt. It doesn't matter if I slice my wrists vertically or horizontally. Either one of them will actually get the job done. (No, this is not and never will be my method of choice, so don't worry about it. Just way too painful for me.)

I've run into all of these people over the past couple of months and the only person who has ever been able to help me in my depressed state is me. I've driven myself to the doctor, to the hospital, to where I needed to go. And that's because it turns out that I'm always conflicted about suicide. On the one hand, I don't want to live but I'm also stubborn enough to not want to die. Go away, but don't leave me alone. Hey, whatever works.

Now, on a much brighter  note, I made a new hooker last night. I took someone with no self-confidence, informed her that I knew she could do it, she looked back and told me that she believed me, and she can now crochet. It was such a joy to see her calm down by handling the yarn and the hook and to watch her self-confidence build with every stitch. But the best part was when she sat down, looked at the yarn, and called it string. She had the lingo down before she even started.