Where I Reveal Myself To You In Terrible Ways

Most of these blog entries will be a record of self-loathing or depression.

Friday, July 03, 2015

My Little Nutty Thing

[Correction: ONE of my little nutty things.]

If there's something you could say I'm crazy about, it's recycling. 

I'm not top level crazy about it, because I walked by the same Coke can lying by the sidewalk for months and never picked it up. But I looked at it every time and said "I should get that and recycle it."

My excuse is that 1) it's dirty and I'm on my way to work and don't want to pick up dirty things on my way to work and 2) there's no recycling near there. Essentially I'd have to take it to work.

I thought of a plan for it once: bring a bag in my jacket pocket (it was still winter), pick it up and put it I the bag and carry it to work, wash it out and put it in the recycling in the office. I was usually the first guy there (and sometimes the only guy there) so it wouldn't have been a big deal.

But I never followed through. I haven't seen that can lately, so I think it eventually got picked up.

At home and at work, where I feel I can control things a little bit more, I'm stricter. At home not with other people's things - I can only control myself - but at work I've taken cans out of the trash and put them in recycling, or taken paper out of the cans/glass/plastic bin and put it in the paper/cardboard bin (which is not located in the same place). 

At home it's why I have four bags of what can be called "trash" in my room - soda cans, soda bottles, microwave dinner boxes - it's kind of an accurate record of my life. At work I tend to throw out four recyclables a day: one fruit container, one sandwich container and two Coke cans. 

I was thinking about hauling my "trash" while LH was away, but I never asked for the car, and when I finally had access to it, I didn't do it. Now I still have all my crap in my room and I'm going to have to ask to use the car to recycle it.

I had an uneventful day today. It was very typical Saturday in that I took a shower and then watched TV all day. The plans I had involved going to the dry cleaner and doing some wash, but I skipped the wash for TV, and I kept putting off the wash until it was too late. 

I told myself I'd do it early tomorrow morning, between 8 and 10 or 9 and 11, but as I was thinking today: when I don't have anything to do, I don't do anything.

I'm sorry, let me rephrase that: when I don't have to do anything, I don't do anything.

To be fair (cop out, excuse), I thought it was going to rain all afternoon. I thought LH would be home at some point and I'd be able to ask about going to the dry cleaner's or something. She came home after 6 with a car full of purchases, a lot of them rodent and insect poison to send to her country. What?? They can't fucking kill bugs in their own country?? (I was teasing her about going out and spending a shitload of money when she had told me two days ago she was broke (and I was also thinking about how she said after this trip she was going to stop sending things home) and that's when she said "They need it.") 

I suppose I'm no better. I think about buying gifts and sending money to people because I have no relationships around me to spend money on or to buy experiences to share with them. I was just thinking about sending my sister-in-law money to buy clothes for work and then feeling like $100 was too much (aka I couldn't spare it) - only what the fuck did I spend my money on last month and was it much better? I have a reminder in this iPad to send $25 a week to charity but I don't do it; the last time I gave money to anything it was to my alma mater - but they've got a former hedge fund running the place now, why should I give my money to them when the mission or the sisters of the poor are a better cause and closer to what I supposedly hold dear?

Fucking eh I gotta start living my values better. My so-called values. Probably improve my life 1000%.

Corollary to the Moz Thing

Would it be a horrible thing or a great thing if one of the Rolling Stones died on stage during a concert?

Thursday, July 02, 2015

Something New

Today at one point I was in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror and thinking how I looked like a middle manager (fat, ill-fitting clothes, balding, glasses, cheap-looking) and about the pants I was wearing (which I thought had a hole in the crotch, but didn't, but were still super tight to get closed), I thought to myself: "When's the last time to bought some new clothes for work?"

I haven't needed business clothes for six years, since 2009. My one suit (hmm, wonder where that is) is from 2007, the year my father died. I might have bought some dress pants in 2009 when I went on a shopping spree at Joseph A. Banks (shopping spree = $300), but since then, nothing. 

I didn't have the money, quite frankly. But even when I started this job and started making some decent money, I didn't buy new work clothes.

No wait, I take that back. In February of last year I bought several shirts and pairs of pants. A lot of the pants needed to be hemmed and are still hanging in the closet untouched. The shirts I've all worn, although a bunch of them no longer fit me well because I've grown fat again. 

So I guess I have bought work clothes somewhat recently, but since I haven't followed through on getting them to fit, they might as well not exist.

(Two shirts I bought at that time? They left the security tags on them. I still haven't gotten that death with. I've been carrying around the receipt for a year and a half. I don't even know if you can read it now.)

This Morning in Sickness

The way I know my life is a breeze is that I woke up with a cold and a scratchy throat two days ago and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, ever.

Summer colds are pretty miserable, but the scratchy throat bit just made it ten times worse and - had there been anyone to whine to - I would have whined all day about it.

As it was, I mentioned it to a couple people at work and then just tried to get on with it.

This morning when I woke up I think I was wheezing. Now I'm not sure, now it seems like a consequence of my nose being stuffed up, but this morning it felt like there was some kind of strange noise down in my lungs.

Yesterday or the day before I got out of the shower and found a pinprick of blood on my face under my eye. I blotted it away and it came back - not strong or anything, just reappeared. "Spontaneous bleeding," I thought, "that can't be good." (Although who knows if I scratched my face just before that and forgot.)

This morning in the shower I was thinking this whole thing with my shoulders has got me knocked back on my heels and that maybe what's wrong with me is I'm buying into the whole "after 40 the body doesn't just repair itself." Well how much of that is attitude, since everyone always seems to talk about attitude? Maybe the problem is I'm not maintaining my usual attitude of "Oh, my body will fix itself" strong enough and therefore my body isn't. Maybe I'm not "thinking young."

But I don't believe in any of that shit. I've just gone along living with whatever happens and getting lucky. Maybe that will continue to happen or maybe ignorance is not bliss, in this instance. All I do know is I'm having that desire for a personal medical team again, a wish that all my needs could be attended to without my having to do anything. Oh, right - shit - that's mothering. 

Gotta learn to take care of myself somehow.

Wednesday, July 01, 2015

Moz

I saw a concert poster with "MORRISEY" in huge letters somewhere around the middle and all I could think was: "I can only imagine was Morrisey said about acts in their 50s still touring when he was a young buck." (Seems like it'd be an easy search but I'm not that interested.)

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Follow Through

Here's what I had planned on doing this evening: 
Taking some wash to the dry cleaners
Doing some regular wash - particularly of t-shirts
Getting some cash for the bus tomorrow

Here's what I actually did tonight:
Fuck all.


I need to stop doing that.

Again With the Lousy Self-Control

I went back and I posted that everyone over 50 yrs old benefited from institutionalized racism because it existed until the day they were born, meaning it shaped the landscape of jobs, services, marriage, education - all the things that fundamentally affect the way people live their lives and prosper.

I'm still angry, I still want to fight about it (and that may happen; who knows how she'll respond; when we saw a comedian who brought up slavery, she was kind of miffed), even though I'm nervous about making people angry and making myself a target. I don't like taking stands because I don't like anger and I especially don't like it directed at me, but this is one subject that I fight for, for whatever reason.

Frustration

I'm not good with projects that require a lot of digging (or sustained effort). I can think them up, but I can't follow through; my mind spins out of control and I get bored.

I bring this up because Nurse Friend posted the card below on Facebook and I want to respond so bad but I don't have the right materials.

First, I thought of just cross-posting the story from Vox that my sister-in-law posted from a woman that worked at a slave plantation. 

But what I'd rather have is a cogent waterfall of effects of racism to show just how long the legacy of slavery is, something that tells a story through the decades:
"In the 1870s, black sharecroppers were killed and their land and fortunes were stolen.
In the 1880s, [something].
In the 1890s, [something]."
All the way through to today, bringing up lynchings, housing discrimination, job discrimination, name discrimination, educational discrimination. Specific instances from every decade to show that it happens again and again and again and white people just want to act like it isn't there, didn't happen, all is so far in the past.

God it makes me so angry, and I feel helpless.

Monday, June 29, 2015

Good Thing

A little bit after I wrote that entry, I put on one of my podcasts and then went for a walk. It took about 15 to 20 minutes and led me through some areas I had never gone through before.

On the podcast, which is primarily about movies, the host and guest raved about a movie called "We Could Be King," which they said "was like the last two seasons of Friday Night Lights." While we can argue about whether this point of reference is sad or great, one of the details that stuck out to me was their discussion of one of their favorite people in the documentary (sorry, didn't say that before) was a coach who did the job for no money because the school couldn't pay him. 

Instantly I thought: "There should be an NFL charitable program just for this kind of situation." There should be a fund that goes out and finds coaches working in seriously trying situations and give them a salary for doing good work.

But then I went back on myself: is it better that they don't have it, that they do the job anyway? Will the money corrupt it somehow, make it "just a job" rather than the mission or calling that it was before? How do you reward good behavior without screwing it up?

Maybe give scholarships to all the kids on the team, and let him be the one to tell them? Let him be the one to present them with that award, each and everyone of them, to let them know he believed in them, will always believe in them, and they deserve this? 

I always want to give money, but money is no substitute for time. Things are no substitute for presence. I should be more present in people's lives and caught up in giving them presents.

Just Another Day In The Life

I spent most of this morning's staff meeting staring at a co-worker's tits.

I was going to write the other day about how I figured I was in heat again because all I did was stare at women's chests and asses. But today I was thinking: maybe that's just me. Maybe in a default situation, I just stare at women's sexual organs. (Or at least the region they're associated with.)

I have a headache again today. Not as terrible as the one on Sunday, which I think now was a migraine and that's why I was so sensitive to smells and light (the iPad itself). Today the headache is on the opposite side from the infected tooth but I have to ask: is it possible it's an effect of microscopic beings eating away at the bone of my jaw? "Yes" seems like a pretty safe answer.

It's room temperature outside, which is why I'm outside right now, sitting in the little park behind my house. As I walked back here I thought: "It would be perfect to kick the soccer ball with someone, some kids especially." But I don't know any kids around here.

Then I looked around and saw a kid. He seemed to be all by himself in the whole park, which was odd, but I swept around again and saw his dad. 

They're very quiet, he and his dad. It's odd, really.

Not like LH's grandkids this weekend, who are just exploding with energy most of the time. I wish it could have been like this when they were here. Now all we need is a soccer ball.

Speaking of the kids, I think pillow fighting with them did good things for my shoulder. It seems to hurt less and I feel like I can move it in more ways than I could before; part of me thinks play fighting with them stretched it or replicated those exercises I never do. 

In fact, I just pulled my arm across my chest to stretch it and it didn't really hurt or seem to pull at all. 

I still can't hold it in certain ways - this is my right arm; in "robot position," 90 degrees out from my body and bent 90 degrees at the elbow - but most other positions seem okay.

I accidentally stayed late at work. I had stopped working by 4 o'clock or soon after; to be honest, the whole day was something of a wash. I just couldn't engage, couldn't focus.

I meant to catch the 7 o'clock bus but I was reading online and suddenly it was 7:16 and I was wondering what had happened. Then I got caught up again and when I checked it was quarter of 8. I try to start packing at 20 of because you never know when the bus is going to be early. So I cursed a bit and ran around getting my stuff together and then got out of there. 
I caught the bus, obviously.

You've probably heard me wish cancer on myself. I've done it since I was in my late 20s, maybe even when I was 25 and they found the growth. 

I think the wish behind it is to have some attention for not doing anything, some love for just being. Maybe it's a wish to get back some of the kind of love I had from my mother and missed from my father.

But when I had that headache yesterday I was aware that that was what cancer is like: it's pain. It's constant pain and nausea and trying to fight through the pain to feel normal, to be able to do normal things. I wish for calamity because I know nothing about it; I talk glibly about pain because I've never really felt it. I've been a lucky motherfucker for years on end, and I can only hope my streak will continue. But there are no guarantees anymore. Forty is the cut-off year; shit starts going bad and if you're not careful, your whole life will shut down. A lot of people I know are struggling right now - struggling to keep themselves upright and not drown in pain, or depression or anger. I don't know anything about their struggles, and can only hope to bring them some levity once in a while. But I've had it easy, and I shouldn't abuse it. I should be thankful, and get my fucking tooth pulled and pull up my pants and work harder at work, because they deserve the best I can bring, not some sloppy half-assed bullshit.

Scorecard

I feel rather relaxed, but I got nothing done. I should go to sleep but part of me doesn't want to, so I won't. Unless I can talk myself into it.

I did none of the work things I wanted to do yesterday today. Of course, I felt ill half the day - or more, I guess - so that was part of it. I don't know what eventually knocked it back, but I was having a genuine freak out about my health there for a minute. On the one hand, it was because I was afraid it was the house, it was environmental, and it was going to hurt more than me. On the other hand it was because it wasn't going away, it seemed rooted and that worried me about the seriousness of it.

When I was thinking it was natural gas or some kind of fumes from MEW's room, I thought getting out of the house would help. I went out for about a half hour in the morning, sat on a bench and listened to a mini podcast - but I came back in and it wasn't better. 

I puttered around and felt sick and finally told myself I needed to be out of the house for real, get some exercise to boot, and if I want to I can buy some ibuprofen while I was out.

It was while I was out and trying to qualify the feeling I was having - why it was different and worse than usual - that I thought about gas poisoning and I said to myself: "It feels like my blood is poisoned." 

A few minutes later I realized that was actually possible from the tooth - and that if it had happened, I might be in a very bad place. 

But I went into denial, told myself "I don't know what a blood infection feels like and this could be anything, maybe even just a migraine" and I passed on it.

The walk was probably good, the watermelon was probably good. I got my water out of the fridge and saw orange floating in the bottom of it and thought of a co-worker who said don't ever re-use bottled water, especially if it's been in the sun, because of the possibility of bacterial. I saw that orange stuff in the water and dumped out the water and threw away the bottle. I drank from cups and the tap the rest of the day. 

I was thinking about drinking water just now because my urine was really dark and it made me wonder how much water I drank today. Usually I down a couple of bottles, but today I was paranoid about my re-used water and so I left my (other two) bottles in the fridge.

Dumb. I should have just checked them for orange contaminant and then drunk them. I refill them on an almost daily basis. And who's to say the orange gunk didn't come out of the tap? 

Your mind can completely fuck your world up if you let it.

-
Should go to sleep. Want to delay tomorrow. Shouldn't delay tomorrow. Already up too late. 

I gotta get a new book and enjoy that. Books are good for me.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Fears Were Empty

Everyone downstairs was alive. The weird smell upstairs seems to be coming from MEW's room, and of course she left for Egypt today. 

I went to 7-11 and bought some ibuprofen and some watermelon, came home, ate it and took two pills. Later I just lay down on the living room floor and went to sleep. 

When I woke up, I felt better. 

Now I'm watching TV, my foreign mystery show.

"Wo fer de?"

I Don't Know What To Do About Paranoid Fear

There's a weird smell in the upstairs, kind of like mildew - or something.

I have a raging headache.

No one else in the house is moving and there are two young kids here and it's almost noon.

I'm paranoid there's a gas leak and we're all being slowly poisoned.

But am I crazy? And what do I do? (Aside from lighting a match and blowing up the whole house.

Not Even Socks

Know what I got done today?
Fuck all. I didn't even put socks on.

Well, maybe I should qualify this a bit. LH came home today, and she brought the grand kids with her. So since they need constant stimulation and are addicted to their digital devices, they (or one of them) wanted to use mine, and play a game on it with me. And then, once in a while, we played a human game: I chased them, or we had a pillow fight.

The pillow fight was hard, and slightly worrisome, because of my shoulders. I worried about re-injuring myself. Of course, after talking to my brother, maybe it's just bursitis (although I don't know that bursitis comes on suddenly, like mine did). But also, I haven't been doing any of the stretches, and I never did any of the recommended exercises (they required a resistance band, and I don't have one). 

It poured rain most of the day. These kids need to be outside; we need to play physical games, with balls. I'm usually happy that I can engage them in physical games, little silly things that require some effort but not a lot of equipment. But I'm usually inspired by my surroundings and I can't get inspired by my own house. I don't know what it is, but I can't think straight or have any creative ideas a lot of times. Writing this is making me think I need to maybe buy a few small things for the next time they're here, but even that is a little tricky. It's weird how I can't figure out how to connect with them. 

Well, I guess I do, it's just not on the terms I want to. I want to play a game that will be fun for me, too, and sometimes "chase" feels boring or old. But I don't have any alternatives - no balls, no instruments, no extra pillows, no flotsam that can be turned into something. I don't seem to have anything, or at least nothing that I remember. I'm always buying shit for my nieces and nephews or my friends kids (half of which they've outgrown) but who knows where it all is now. 

This is depressing me and I have a headache and looking at the bright screen in the dark room is hurting my eyes. Or concentrating to write is. I took some acetophenomin, but it's not kicking in. Granted, it was five minutes ago. 
I left my 800mg ibuprofens at the office; didn't think I'd need them. Though the tooth infection would be cleared up. The dentist disabused me of that notion; "it has no way to drain," she said. "When we do an extraction with an infection we have to actually go up and clean out the site."

Can I do everything I meant to do today, tomorrow? I think so. 
Okay. Concentrate on that. 
Keep a positive goal. End the weekend on a high note.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

A Quick Pitstop

It doesn't feel right to go right to bed without spending some time at the kitchen table, so I'm going to sit here for a little bit while the house cools down - and me along with it.

The humidity has got to be in the 90s, even if the temperature is only in the 70s. I was sopping as I walked through the woods and soaked when I got home. 

I went to dinner with the family for Brother #2 and Brother #1's wife's birthdays. Also my sister is in town, so it's a full family event (we don't really count my brother - Brother #3 - anymore. I might have said, he's different from us. Plus he's got his whole family to deal with).

It was a nice time, maybe I'll write about it tomorrow. My hope for tonight is to get in bed fairly early so I can get up fairly early and have a productive morning. LH's son left his car, so I have transport. 

On the walk home, I took the usual path through the woods, which gets incredibly dark. There were fireflies so it was kind of magical, although my glasses were smeared and I was trying to text my sister in law (Brother #3's wife) so at times I could barely see. 

At one point I ran across someone else. There had been someone on the path ahead of me whose light I saw bobbing around in the woods far off, which gave me a sense of direction and the woods (they get very dark); then at a particular point I realized there was a small bright light bobbing down some stairs on the left of me, coming to the path. 

"Hello," I said. 
"Hello," she replied, and I learned it was a she, with an accent of some kind.

As I turned to go off the path she was going the same way and did that little laugh you do when coincidence happens, and she said "Oh, we are going the same way." That's when I determined (decided) the accent was Indian.

She said something about staying out so long or having gone out with some friends and stayed out so late and then coming home... It seemed to me like she trailed off. I got the feeling she was saying that it was kind of nerve wracking. 

I told her that with her bright light she couldn't see the fireflies. (Maybe that's when she explained being out so late. I originally thought she was saying something about not having fireflies where she's from. I had a little trouble with the accent.) 

I started to worry a bit that she would worry about me, be afraid of me and my male potential for danger, there in the dark. I tried to figure out if I should slow down and let her get ahead of me, or what. At one point I did slow down and my impression was that made her nervous and she tried to keep pace with me. 
Who knows? I overthink things at the best of times.

I finished the book. I'll write more about that tomorrow. 

I went to the dentist. I didn't tell the boss, I just left. 

The dentist told me what the last dentist told me: #12 should come out. 
Damn it, I wanna keep it! Just do the root canal and put some kind of patching on top! It doesn't have to be a full fucking crown, just leave it like it is! Just let me keep my own damn tooth. I don't want any fucking dentures.

I have an appointment July 6 to get a cleaning. Who knows if that's worth it. 

I was hoping I'd get an appointment scheduled this week to remove 14. But nooooo, the dentists all think alike, and they want to pull 12 as well. Well I fucking don't.

They gave me a "Smile Assessment" with a bunch of statements that you were supposed to circle "Y" or "N." I was fucking annoyed because the questions were about how you felt about your smile - whether you were embarrassed about your smile. Fuck you! I don't want to share my fucking shame with you! It's shameful enough I have to come to a second dentist and reveal the horrible state of my mouth and be lectured again about what I should do. I know what I should do! Whatever the fuck you say! But guess what? I don't have the money or the inclination to follow your advice.

At the bottom of the sheet they have lines for other comments/questions and I wrote in the line about keeping #12. Then below it I wrote "I'd love to get recommended for an NIH study and get a free implant." Or at least that's what I was going to write, but I got as far as the word "study" and I stopped, ashamed of myself, and crossed the whole thing out, going over it extra long to make sure it couldn't be read.

The infection in 12 is still there. My life is still a fucking mess. I was closed at first with my family. Dinner was good but not always easy (in terms of eating). 

Need to make my list for tomorrow and stick to it. I have several items I can complete without too much strain, and before 11 o'clock. So that's going to be my goal. Be productive before 11, listen to my show, then go back to being productive. I might rearrange my room a little.