Where I Reveal Myself To You In Terrible Ways

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

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Today's Doings

I didn't go anywhere.
I didn't shower.
I watched an episode of Law & Order I had seen before.
I bought a burrito and chips at Chipotle for lunch, even though I've got plenty of frozen meals here.
I watched a movie I had never seen before, The Island. It was exciting, but full of flaws.
I went and bought a bunch of chips and soda.
I took the dog for a walk three times.
I wasted some time on Facebook and felt bad about myself and my life.
I napped.
I watched a few episodes of TV that I wanted to watch.

The Didn'ts
I didn't write or send any mail.
I didn't take my dry cleaning in.
I didn't pay my credit card bill.
I didn't write any involved entries on here or catch up on old entries I planned or made notes for.
I didn't go home to my house and do wash.
I didn't call anyone or talk to anyone aside from by text.
I didn't get much sun.
I didn't watch any of the TV I had meant to or any recent movies (that I've been saving for Best Friend's giant TV).

Saturday, April 19, 2014


It being Saturday night, it's time for a party, so I went out and got my party friends: 
1 bag of kettle cooked chips
1 bag of crisp rounds chips
1 bag of mixed chips
2 liter of Coke
1 box of chocolate topped butter cookies

If I had a cell phone with a camera, you'd have pictures of this pathetic parade. As it is, I suppose you'll have to use your imagination.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Here's Where I Am

At home. At least right now.

Okay, that's not really what I meant to write. I am at my house, but that's because I didn't have to work today (day labor) but didn't want to call off the dog walker (interaction with a stranger; asking for a favor) and so I just left the house for the period in which he's going to walk the dog. I'll go back at three or four or five; we'll see.

I was going to do wash over here so that I had something to wear for Friday, but I don't need to because I have clean dress clothes, so I'll just take those back. I was going to wash some of my new jeans. I obviously need to buy even more new jeans to keep up with work attire. I've also started to worry about how many nice shirts I have.

My biggest problem at the moment, though, the reason I started this entry in the first place, is eating. I haven't eaten anything today because eating with this broken tooth is tricky. The food pushes the tooth around and makes it hurt (probably very low-level pain, but when it's the only sensation, it's everything) and feel like things are getting stuck between my teeth.

I didn't pull out the piece last night, although I did find pliers. And I did take the pliers and put them on the tooth, but it's so close to the tooth in front and behind that I can't really get a grip without knocking into them and that does cause that chilling sensation in my body.

At that point I was wishing I had plastic or wooden pliers; a pair that didn't make my other teeth feel so bad when it knocked into them. I think with plastic pliers (or rubber tips on a regular pair) I could grip this thing and work it out.

At the moment though, I'm kind of thinking of letting it work itself out. I'm pushing it around like you do (maybe you haven't had a loose tooth - or piece of tooth - lately, but there's something fun about them; ask any kid) and its occurred to me that it's going to get looser and looser as the days go by and it'll be easier to rip out then.

But there's still the issue of eating. I hate disturbing it to eat and I don't know how to eat around it (it's hard, because it's one of the few complementary teeth I have left; the whole molar set on the other side is gone on the bottom, so there's no way to chew). I guess I'm just going to have to deal with it or tear it out. Well see.
Or I could not eat and lose some weight.

I forgot to mention (I think; the television works as a natural thought disruptor) that the reason I brought up the abscess and how I messed with it was because it wasn't there last night. So: I cut the abscess, the other chunk of filling falls out, the abscess flattens out. Coincidence? You know how the human brain is.

I spent the walk here from Best Friend's trying to do math in my head. I've been doing it a lot lately: 4,000 over ten years; 12,000 over twenty years. Today it was thirty thousand over fifty years.

They're all fantasy numbers in supposed loans I would ask for. Four thousand for one tooth (this one, before it fell apart), twelve thousand for three teeth; thirty thousand for one or two implants. I try to come up with repayment terms that I could live with. Sixty dollars a month. Best Friend has money. Her brother has money. Someone else I know has money. But how could I ask for it? What could I promise in return? Even if I pay them back; am I going to "live right?" Am I going to take care of myself? Are they making a good investment? I can't say that they are, and so I can't ask them for a loan.

In the shower earlier I heard the voice in my head again: "You can't do what you've always done." I fought with the voice, about how I don't have money, but I don't think that's what the voice was about. The voice was more about taking care of myself in a general way: making my bed; brushing my teeth more than once a day; doing work even on my days and hours off. I don't like that idea. I'm still not ready to hear it. I see the consequences manifesting themselves, but I am still resistant.

Inside My Head

Here we are in the demented space that is my head.

The piece of tooth that's loose hurts because it keeps pushing up in my gum, or straining at the gum it's still attached to even when it's just resting against my bottom teeth. So I want to pull it.

Here's where it gets sick. I'm kind of excited by the idea of pulling it out. There's something very satisfying about pulling out pieces of my teeth. Maybe it's the fact that I'm completely in control of myself (however pathetic the circumstances). 

I fear the pain, sure. It doesn't even seem like it'll be that bad, but any pain is no fun. I probably make it out to be much worst in my head.

Oh, wait: I forgot what I meant to open with:

Here's something I'd didn't tell you about yesterday that may or may not be connected: I popped the abscess.

I was at my brother's, looking in on his cats, and just felt very aware of it. I was eating chips and didn't have toothpick to empty out my tooth pocket, and then I remembered he's got those dental toothpicks. So I got one of those. It was different that the ones that I have, in that the point for the tooth was a flat blade rather than a slightly or fully rounded point. So after a little while I went into the bathroom and stabbed the abscess.

It bled, and maybe there was some pus. Not a whole lot came out. I got some Listerine from the closet and dipped the point in it, then stuck it back in the abscess. Then I swished with the Listerine. Then I stabbed the abscess again and tried to get it to drain some.

It didn't, really. It would bleed a little bit each time, but it wasn't cut well and when I pushed on it, I felt like I was just pushing it back into the space in my gum rather than out the side to drain it. I thought later how much I wished I had some kind of needle-less syringe to suck out the contents. 

So now I've got this loose piece in my gum that hurts and I want to get some pliers and grab it.

Of course, I don't know if you're like me, but the idea of gripping a tooth with pliers sends shivers up my spine. And not the good kind. 

Just now when describing it, it didn't seem so bad. I was able to be aware that the tooth piece I would grab wouldn't feel the connection to the bone, which is somehow the freaky feeling you get. Maybe it's because of the nerves, which in this case doesn't apply, since I'm pretty sure the nerve in this tooth died. And the piece I want to pull isn't connected to the jaw, so it's not connected to the "mainframe" of my body. 

Of course, I don't think I know where pliers are in this house and I don't know how much is connected to the gum and how much I'd have to pull out. The piece feels like it goes deep; while it's broken off from the jaw and root, but it's still down into the gum that far. That feels like a lot to tear out.

I wish I had company in this. I'd love to have someone to talk to and witness with me while I do this crazy, fucked up thing. Like I would if I were 20 or 25. Someone there in the middle of the night watching with a locked gaze and cringing and wincing as I do this crazy thing that's painful as hell.

Okay, I'm not paying attention very well. Might check a few drawers for some pliers.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Well It Happened

Turns out most of #12 was filling, and the second, larger piece just fell out.

Now the tooth is split in two pieces: a stable, inner piece still rooted in the bone and a smaller, loose piece that's looking to fall out. It's attached to the gum, bit will rip out with some work. The question is, do I want to rip it out?

(Worst part? I just went and bought myself a burrito and am eating it with chips. Now I don't have the teeth to eat it with.)

Commercial Report: Trivago

Who is this guy in the Trivago commercial? He looks old. And haggard. It may be that he looks normal for 40 or 45, but up against everyone else on TV, he looks like he drank all yesterday and slept in the gutter.

"Find The Love of Your Dreams"

CBS is showing ads for a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie called "In Your Dreams" or something. 

Seriously? This is where CBS and Hallmark are going? Usually the Hallmark movies are sweet and sappily romantic, but they're usually not magical realism. Is this an indication of America's losing touch with what it takes to have a relationship, or is it Hallmark knowing its demographic is single women over 30? 

I don't get it.

Commercial Report: Toyota and the Muppets

Right: let the puppets take over the car; that's safe. (They don't show them driving, do they? They thought of that.)

Watching TV: ABC's "Resurrection"

One of the things that I find unrealistic about this show is how everyone who's related to a "returned" person just walks away from them or sends them to their room. My feeling (which could be based on other fictional media; I'm unsure) is that if you lost someone and then they came back, you wouldn't want to let them out of your sight. You have no idea how they came back, so what's to say they won't just up and disappear as fast as they came? 

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

What About Me??

(I called it that because I didn't have a title in mind and, in some ways, I can see it as applicable.)

There was a story on NPR just now about the dangers of mixing benzodiazepan drugs and opioids. In the story they talked with a woman who had been addicted to prescription drugs and then heroin, and she talked about the feeling after the rush; the state some people call "the nod." 

It made me think about how the other night I had this really strong desire for heroin. Okay, maybe not heroin specifically, but something in my brain that equaled heroin. Something that my brain imagined would stop certain activity, or change certain activity, and make me feel differently. In that moment, I almost felt like, had some been in front of me or offered to me, I might have taken it.

What is that?? I'm 41 years old. I've never done illegal drugs a day in my life. Why would my body still crave it - still crave drugs (or my imagined form of them) in particular? What is happening in my brain when that happens?

Part of it is easily explained: I don't have resilience; I don't have coping skills, and I've avoided building them all these years and I've been using numbing devices like food and television to dispel feelings. S my brain is used to a pattern of being numbed by some kind of agent and, in that moment, was just expressing a desire to be numbed. It doesn't know what heroin is, or the experience is like, but it can approximate the "numbed" feeling, so it just imagines the bridge to that place, and craves that. Not heroin, but emotional and mental escape.

Still, I wanted someone to do a study. I wanted to be part of a group of people like me, people who never drank or did drugs but yet found their own version of drugs and did that, and who sometimes crave drugs, even as they know they can't or won't do them because they're too aware of the consequences.

I wanted two things: a brain study, and a rehab program. I wanted rehab for my brain, even if it isn't on drugs. I wanted someone to teach me how to live, how to not get bogged down in the bad habits and the bad emotions.

I think that's where the whining comes in. No one else gets special training, why should you? And if you want it, then make those decisions to get it: either on your own, or make the decision to get some help.

What I want to ask (because it's my only excuse left) is: can I truly make that decision if I am this way? Can I even approach better, if my brain is in this state?

The universe says yes. Mostly because addicts do it all the time. They reach a point where they make a decision, and then they keep on making decisions, or they get help making decisions, so they can continue on in the right direction. But at some point you have to make the decision for yourself. In the end, you are by yourself. People who learned how to make good decisions early on don't realize this, but it's a very lonely job, trying to change yourself. You're asking me to give up everything I identify as me. How am I supposed to do that?? That's frightening! That's a black hole of existence! Sure, we may "know" what it'll be like on the other side, but we have no experience of that. We can't count on that. That wasn't us; that was other people. How do we know we'll make it through?

A (Feminist?) Joke and Today's Poor Decisions

Today on NPR they were talking about how there might be genetic reasons for a higher incidence of Alzheimer's in women. My immediate reaction was to think: They get Alzheimer's so they can continue to deal with their husbands! 
Who's with me? Am I right?

Or: They get Alzheimer's so their husbands can know what it's like to be responsible for a fucking change!
Am I right, ladies??

Okay, so they're not funny, really. In some ways they're "revenge" jokes, that I think of in terms of how shitty most men are in relationships and ignorant of their wives' struggles (perhaps "oblivious" is more accurate; the only thing missing is the scent of intention in their "unknowing"). They're an expression of the frustration I hear from women (or maybe I imagine it) with their husbands' callous ignorance of the full reality of their lives.

Was watching an old episode of "Inside Amy Schumer," and while most of the episode was hard for me to watch (cringe-worthy in the type of humor; not bad), Tig Notaro was awesome. Her presence is just great; I don't know if she needs to even do anything.

Poor choices this evening:
I bought a can of processed cheese dip and a 2 liter bottle of soda.
I drank 2/3 (or 3/5) of that bottle of Coke.
I ate half a bag of chips and a bunch of crackers. 

It doesn't seem that bad when I write it out, but I know that I ate too much (I also had two big steak and bean burritos), and that cheese dip and soda wasn't good.

My tongue has stayed yellow. I think I'm losing some of my ability to taste. I don't know if that's true or just a paranoid fear. I've never had this happen to me before and I don't know how to clear it up.

Well, aside from the obvious. I'm considering making an appointment for this Saturday. Today I scrubbed my tongue with a napkin and it seemed the yellow came off. I wondered if I could just rub off the growth, but that's dumb. I should, however, get another toothbrush and start brushing my tongue on a regular basis. I did that after work today, but then I drank the soda. (Well, I drank a soda at work, too. I wonder sometimes how the soda affects it; the sugars, or whatever it might be.)

God I would love to have twelve thousand dollars to spend at the dentist. It would be so much fun - yes, fun - going to the dentist and knowing it's paid for. 
Okay, maybe not fun, but certainly satisfying. 

Monday, April 14, 2014

Russia's INaction

I think the easiest charge to level at Putin in the wake of events in Eastern Ukraine is to say: "Why haven't you discouraged the protesters from taking over government buildings?? Why haven't you assured them that you will help any peaceful, democratic election and there's no need to take violent action? Why haven't you encouraged them to use nonviolent tactics? Why haven't you pointed out that they've only had a small gap since they're president was a ethnic Russian, pro-Russian, and that acting like they're panicked shows weak character?"

Which brings up a good point: if things were so bad for ethnic Russians in Ukraine, where was Russia before? Where were they five, ten, fifteen years ago? If there's unemployment, why wasn't that solved by Russian loans and business before now? Why didn't their pro-Russian president make eastern Ukraine a priority? And again, why weren't they protesting three months ago? Six months ago? How were they "oppressed" in two fucking weeks?? By a government that isn't even there??

God, it makes me fucking crazy.

Tragedy From Stupidity = Disdain

Part of me wants to laugh with glee in the face of the white supremacist movement after this asshole shot three NON-JEWISH people. You fucking idiot. 

Not Speaking Up

Today I experienced the consequences of not advocating for oneself on the benign end of the scale. I got a haircut, and it wasn't what I was expecting - or wanted, necessarily.

It wasn't an overcut. I didn't get my head mangled because I wouldn't speak up. Rather, I didn't get as much cut as I was expecting or would have liked. So for instance, one woman (with the same chain of stores, although at a different location) asked if I wanted my beard trimmed. I said yes. Here, I was expecting her to or suggest it, and when she didn't, I was too timid to ask.

She cut the hair on the sides of my head the way I wanted; it was the top that's the problem. Maybe because I came in with a combover she assumed that was what I wanted, so she only cut about an inch off the top, meaning it can still brush to the side. It's looks okay, but I realize now that less is more. But I was afraid to say anything. Afraid to ask. Can you imagine?? How pathetic is that??

I'm at Best Friend's for the first of nine or ten nights. I was freaked out about my timing this morning - I woke up anxious, as usual. Partially for all the things I had to remember; partially worried about timing and work, since I hadn't asked for leniency (see? It's even in how I describe things).

Talking to Best Friend last night and thinking about the timing, I was less worried about it, but when I woke up I instantly focused on all the ways things could go wrong: I could forget to leave the key for the dog walker; I could be a half-hour late for work and the boss would be miffed.

Nothing bad happened, of course; I talked myself through it a couple of times and I got to work with minutes to spare and the boss(es) didn't come in until later. (Well, the vp - the wife - was there at 9; but the boss came in a bit later.)

I've been all anxious about my time because I've been losing it or goofing off or unaware of how I'm spending it or whether I'm spending it in a worthwhile fashion, but the boss just says (in his gentle voice) "How's it going? We should talk about that thing you forwarded me; that could be a good idea." 

I keep waiting for them to be angry at me; I keep waiting for them to go: "You need to get in the ball, Michael;" or "When I ask you to do something, you need to follow up on it;" or even "What the fuck are you doing???" I can't imagine them being angry like that (well, not him; he wouldn't express it like that) but the part of me that hates myself is always angry at myself for being lazy and scared and unmotivated. That's the part of me that would shoot me every day.

I was thinking about that fear this morning or last night, and telling myself that it's based on my father and that it's based on dysfunction, and it would probably be something they talk about in Al-anon. But I'm too afraid to expose my shame in public; or too afraid to experience any kind of support because I'll break down, and then I'll be vulnerable to attack. 

Sunday, April 13, 2014


I took a survey yesterday that asked: "If you lost your job, how long would you be able to live on your savings?" I chose the answer that said: "I have no savings."

Today, though, I revised that answer. After going through my little set of twenties (and leaving some in there), I realized: I've got $120 in savings! 

(I laugh at pathetic things.)

Tonight I Bought/Tonight I Ate

Tonight before dogsitting I stopped by 7-11 and bought the following:

A bag of Tostitos (Hint of Lime)
A chicken salad sandwich
A cup of cut up mango
A small bag of pretzel crisps
A liter of Pepsi (they were out of Coke)
2 pieces of cooked pizza

Tonight while dogsitting I ate:

2 pieces of pizza
2/3 bag of Tostitos
1 chicken salad sandwich
1 liter of Pepsi
1 cup of cut mango
2 Izzie sodas

(I was wondering why I don't feel sleepy and thought it might be because of the soda. But now I'm yawning.)

Cat Taxes Hair

That's my to-do list for tomorrow. It actually should read "cat soap taxes mail credit hair" but these are the high points.

On my way home from dogsitting tonight, I realized one of the things that's hard for me is that the ideas keep coming. Every day there are new ideas. So if I don't get to yesterday's, then a whole new set crops up,and soon the pile grows tall.

Some ideas are time-sensitive: I had an idea for a sketch about Marielis...Gonzalez?, Elian Gonzalez' American cousin. She seemed to be a beautiful woman, and then there was one photo published everywhere of her shouting or crying or something, and it made her face look horrible. It emphasized a little bit of fat she had around her chin and neck in a terrible way. It was just one of those photos taken at exactly the wrong time. 

I had some idea - I wanted to send it to SNL, and I can't remember exactly how it went, now - wherein they would show that picture with a VoiceOver saying "This was me, five months ago; but then I got X procedure by Dr. Y and now I look like this!" and then Cindy Crawford would walk out on stage. 

It was just a randomly ridiculous idea that was based solely on the picture and some chance neuron firings, but I really liked it at the time and I'm sure I have a notebook or a computer file somewhere where it still exists.

Because I have no experience with consistency or discipline, I don't know what's its like to push hourly through even though you don't want to and how to come back to the table every day even though you don't want to. There are tasks I could be doing - should be doing (or should have done) - for my current job, that I'm not doing. Either they don't interest me, or I can't complete them in the way I want to, or I'm afraid I'm doing them all for naught. I get caught up in doing busywork tasks that don't move work forward in any way and then I'm left with the knowledge that I havent done all this stuff and I use it to chastise myself rather than make progress. 

It's the same as it is in all quadrants of my life: the dining room table isn't clear, berate yourself for it but avoid it. Your room is a mess: berate yourself for it but do nothing. Feel overwhelmed and give up. [shakes head] Useless behavior. 

But it folds back in on itself again because at this point I can't/don't use it as a stepping stone or motivator but rather as more negative self-talk and excuse for inaction.

If I could learn a positive motivator in those moments, that would be helpful.