Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Try eating omelettes now, Denver.

I hate mouth ulcers!!! >:( Or cantankerous sores like they call them in the States. That sounds like it should be a dinosaur. 

CANTANKEROUSSAURUS!!!

 And you never get just one. You get at least 4. 


I hardly ever go out anymore. Going out means dinner in restaurants, possible alcohol consumption, and subsequent bingeing and/or anxiety attacks. And in general, I don't feel as social as I did a few years ago. I'm too tired. 
On Mondays, I go to a writing group. Or workshop. Or something. We gather in either the Montclair High School or in someone's house, and sit and do writing exercises and then read our stuff aloud to each other, and comment on each other's writing (positive feedback only). It's awesome. I've been doing this pretty much non-stop since last August, with maybe the odd break of 2 weeks. 
It's basically me and 6-12 other women between the ages of 40-something and 70. We're actually getting cliquey now. The same bunch of 7 of us have been in these groups together since the beginning, and I think we're scaring away the new people. We actually had a BOY join up in the beginning of March (!!!). He was probably my age. And we got a new girl around my age as well. They've both skipped the last 2 Mondays. I've gotten to be pretty good buddies with two of the women in particular, and we're planning a bird-watching adventure when the weather gets warmer.
Little Sis and Mum seem to think this is funny. 

I'm in the process of Reorganizing my bedroom. 
What that really means is that at some point in the recent past, I began obsessing over a particular portion of my Hoard (current phase: My Little Ponies). I took all of them out. Admired them. Cleaned them up and made them look extra pretty. Compulsively purchased more. And during this stage, the My Little Ponies slowly took over my entire bedroom. 
Mum said it best: "Your room looks like a My Little Pony stud farm."
I justify this by saying, "I'm reorganizing them."
Mum catches on after a couple days, which means I start packing all of the ponies back up into their boxes to stuffing them under the bed. And maybe I'll eventually put away all the stuff that I just left laying around the room because I've been too preoccupied with the My Little Ponies to put anything away properly.
I do the same thing with books. My bookshelves get a complete makeover every few months, as far as which genres are in which section, and how they're arranged. The non-fiction is currently following a strange system in which the books are ordered by the rules of that game, the 6 Degrees of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 
See if you can spot the pattern:
This weekend, I am going to try and clean. Properly clean. Even ::gasp:: throw things away. I might vlog it. There will be much flailing involved.




OMG, I ate CHEESE the other day! 


I made mini pizzas for myself and Little Sis. Took all of 2 minutes to make, and they were pretty delicious. (I will sometimes eat cooked mozzarella because it doesn't really have a flavor--these occasions are quite rare). 


To make:
I used those 100 calorie flat bread things; 1 tablespoon of marinara and 1/8 cup of shredded mozzarella for each slice of bread, so your mini pizza is roughly 100 calories.


And you just pop it in the toaster oven for a few minutes, until the cheese melts. 
I think I overcooked them slightly, but if you like thin and crispy pizza dough, then they came out perfect. 

Monday, March 28, 2011

craptastic vlog

I really don't understand how my brain manages to render such graphic and historically accurate scenes of total epic violence. Does anyone else get war dreams? Because I have them a lot. And I have never been to war; have never been anywhere remotely near a war or battle. So why do I have this sh*t in my head?!
>:(

I made a vlog over the weekend. Attempted to post it yesterday, but all the computers and the internet were being disagreeable. I apologize for the poor quality, but here it is. 
The password: this is who we are


Untitled from Mich H on Vimeo.

I really hate the way I look and sound on video. I may take this down when I eventually get out of the nightmare funk and come back to my senses. 

So after my talking about not bingeing last night (Sunday), I ended up pigging out. Hey there, Dairy Rash! Nice to see you again!

Ugh.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

No man who never did nothing never made any mistakes.


The first round of ponies will hopefully go out this weekend. And because I have a spending problem, there shall soon be about 16 more ponies up for grabs. There were some eBay lots containing ponies and accessories for which I have pined for many a year, so I spent far too much money to obtain them. :D 

Has anyone besides Peri and Cinnamon NOT received their tarot cards? Lemme know! There's still some cards left, if anyone wants some, or wants more. 
If you've finished decorating them, you can scan and email them to me, or send them in the mail--whatever you prefer! When I have them all back, I'm going to try and go through one of those self-publishing sites and see if I can upload all of the cards and then whoever wants a whole deck can just buy it off that site. ...

Cinnamon and Peri, methinks your packages have vanished into the Postal Netherworld. I'll re-send stuff, and this time it goes registered mail, since apparently the postal service sucks @s$. Although in Peri's case, it may have been the earthquake that lost that package. 

I made this awesome sandwich for lunch:

3 slices of bacon (90), 1 egg (70), some baby lettuce, 1 tbsp of lite mayo (35), and 2 slices of toasted Weight Watcher's whole wheat bread (80). 275 is kind of a lot for one meal (in my head, anyway), but I've been making lunch the biggest meal of my day. I eat most of my food during the day, that way I have enough energy for the gym after work, and then a reason to eat nothing for dinner. Because if I eat nothing in the evening, I won't be tempted to binge. Eating a small dinner just makes me hungrier, so why bother?

Yeah the whole Eating More thing is kind of not working. 

I have read five books in as many days. [This is what happens when you don't sleep.] And that didn't even put a dent in my Pile of Books to Read.

It would probably have helped if 2 of those 5 books were from the Pile, rather than books I've already read multiple times. Those were Harry Potter #7





and Nocturnes, John Connolly's book of short stories. John was in New York on Tuesday, but I couldn't go because of work. >:( This upset me a great deal, as he is my favourite author. 

The other books I read:
- Finished Murphy's Boy. I love her books. She writes so well, considering it's technically non-fiction/psychology
- Among the Barons. Idk if that one even counts, since it's so short that I read the whole thing in about an hour.

I've been reading others that I have not finished yet. I'm not listing all of them--I updated the Books I'm Reading page. It occurred to me that I am reading too many books simultaneously (13, by the last count...).

I am stagnating. My head is blocked. The words are there somewhere, but they just won't come out. I've no ideas for good blog posts. I can't finish the book I've been working on for the past year. (Two years, if you count the original draft that was disemboweled and reconstructed into what is now the 2nd book in the series, currently titled "The Fairy Queen"). It's almost done, but I just can't seem to get those final chapters down on paper. The words are all there in my head, but they seem to evaporate as soon as I sit down with my notebook and fountain pen. 

I need a break. I need to get away. (See? I still think running away will fix everything.) I can't stand this inertia. Like a swamp in summertime. As the days wear on, I get more and more dried up and stinky. Eventually I will disappear altogether. There'll be nothing left except a slightly damp hole filled with decaying plants and some dried up insects and dead frogs. I'll stay that way until the autumn rains come and fill me back up again.

Except I don't know when autumn rain will come for my brain, nor what form it will take. 

Perhaps I should have been a swamp instead of a human.

My head hurts.

Because seriously, if my life never goes any further than Bergen County and full-time legal secretary, what the heck is the point? I'm not doing this for the next ten years. Even five seems like hell. I can't. I won't. 

Was talking to Mum about this the other night. She thinks I'm being melodramatic, that my own perception of myself is too grandiose. I shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts; it's unhealthy. I should be so lucky to live in Bergen County and be a full-time legal secretary for the next ten years. What else is there?

I think she really truly believes that one day I'm going to wake up and be Normal. Just accept my menial office-worker existence and deal. Get married to some a-hole in a suit and tie, milk him for his money, and produce her some decent grandkids. 
Which is entirely ridiculous. The grandkids might be a possibility, but not the husband. I don't think so, anyway. I've always operated alone.

I'm still toying with the idea of grad school (provided that I can afford it some day in the not-too-distant future), but Mum doesn't think I should bother with either of the degrees I'm considering. She thinks that a master's in creative writing would be a waste of time. And she does not think me capable of achieving a master's in psychology, despite the fact that I've A's on every quiz, test, project, and paper in every psych class I've ever taken. 

[But why should I set so much store by what my mother thinks? I try not to. It's difficult.]

I wish I knew what I really wanted--psychologist, or college professor? If I can't make a career out of writing, those are my top choices. I can't choose both, though. Not immediately, anyway. I weigh the pros and cons of each choice multiple times a day, and thus procrastinate as far as working towards one of those choices. I've even made a chart:

It's not in my nature to just sit back and wallow in unhappiness. No good ever came from excessive wallowing. (Although there are some occasions that call for a certain amount of wallowing.) I believe that if something makes you unhappy, then you should DO SOMETHING about it.

Tomorrow, I think Boss is out for most of the day. I'm going to start looking at grad schools again, and maybe apply for some writing programs. No harm in applying, right? Like I say far too often: you never know if you don't try!

Have a good Friday, my luvs. <3

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

thingy

Thank you Ariana, Mags, Danae, Dani, and Merla for the versatile blogger whatsit!


The Rules:

1. Thank the person who loved you enough to bestow this gift
2. Share seven things about yourself.
3. Bestow this honor onto 10 newly discovered or followed bloggers– in no particular order– who are fantastic in some way.
4. Drop by and let your ten new friends know you admire them.

Seven facts, ay? Ok here goes...

1.) I ate 1,200 calories today. I'm not sure whether to be anxious or not. 

2.) This song has been stuck in my head all day:

Best movie ever.

3.) The insomnia has gotten bad again. I'm not sure what I've been doing the past few days, but I've been awake for most of them. Lack of sleep is causing Brain Sludge.

4.) I have several very irrational phobias. I guess everyone does, but people seem to think mine are strange. Mainly because I'm afraid of things that cannot hurt me: 
- Kevin Bacon
- Worms. This is the worst one, I think. I hate going outside after the rain because all the worms come out. If there's too many, I will gag, and I may actually vomit. And freak out in general. One acquaintance, many years ago thought it would be super funny to pick up a worm off the ground and try to throw it at me. After projectile vomiting and running away fast enough to break the sound barrier, I waited until he put the worm down and punched him in the stomach. 

Big guys go down pretty fast. 

- Also afraid of going insane. Like insane to the point where I don't know what's real and what isn't. 
- Space. As in outer space. It's too large and menacing and I can't handle it. Most of the time, I just pretend it isn't there.
- Airplanes. That one is rational, I think. I HATE airplanes. In order to ride in an airplane, I need to be very heavily sedated. For this reason, Mum really hates traveling with me. I make sure to take my sedatives about 15 or 20 minutes before it's time to board the plane, so I can be properly unconscious by the time the plane takes off. 

This one time, our flight had a two hour-ish delay. We didn't find out until after I had taken 4 Sudafed, 2 clonazepams, and 10 mg of Xanax.  There were no seats in the waiting area. Little Sis was getting cranky and obnoxious. And Little Sis and Mum tend to travel with giant carry-on bags (I just bring my purse; I'd really rather not lug two heavy bags around). And of course Little Sis is incapable of carrying her own bag, so Mum has to carry everything. 

Mum was not impressed.

By the time they were boarding, I was lucky they actually let me on the plane. And Mum was on the verge of total mental collapse.

5.) Sometimes I fantasize about being murdered. My murder would be dramatic, with a good chase scene, and lots of blood. 

6.) Despite my dizzying intellect, I tend to do really stupid things. Like stapling myself on the arm just because I'm curious how it would feel (it kind of hurts). Or trying to put things down in midair. Usually I do this with beverages. As if my subconscious believes that my cup of tea will just hover several feet off the ground if I let go of it. 

Idk, I just don't think. Like that time I decided to drop acid an hour before my curfew.

If you live with your parents and have never done this, here's a word of advice: DON'T.
Even Little Sis--who was 5 at the time--knew something was up.

Mum was worse. You cannot imagine the terror that I felt...

Because no matter how oblivious she was to the signs of a person whacked out on hallucinogens, I was convinced she was going to kill me at any moment.  Plus I think my senses of sight and hearing may not have been feeding me accurate information.

7.) I think my monthlies are making an appearance, after almost 9 months of nothing. Apparently my ovaries are still working after all... 

So now I can donate eggs! That's like getting paid to breed your own army. :D

And I shall now pass this on to some of you who haven't done it yet:
...

>:(

You've all done it already. I suppose that's what I get for not blogging in so many days!

<3

Thursday, March 17, 2011

The boys and me are drunk and looking for you. We'll eat your friggin' entrails and we won't give a damn.






'Twas super nice out today. If it never got above this temperature (mid 60's F) I would be so happy. Maybe 70F in the summer, but no higher... I checked on my flowers (hyacinths and paper whites) and they're growing! The snowdrops beside the chimney have been out for a while though, which proves I was correct in my prediction of spring's early arrival. :D Even if it's cold out, the birds and flowers know when to come back.


I like the flowers and Easter and junk, but spring means the kamikaze inchworms start launching themselves out of the trees, which pretty much turns me into a shut-in for like 4 months.
~*~*~*~
Mrs. Donae, your blog won't let me comment!! I was going to tell you I think it's awesome you're quitting smoking. I should. :/





Ok so two anonymous people sent messages through the website asking for a pony. Idk which one of you was the original commenter, but at the moment I can only spare one pony.....

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I think it's time to talk about drugs. 

It's one of those topics on which everyone has an opinion. Usually a strong opinion. And I think it's something that everyone has to deal with (whether through family, friends, or their own issues) at some point in life. Especially nowadays, when they're advertising drugs on the telly and doctors hand out prescriptions for people's addictions so that those people can get their fix straight from the pharmaceutical companies rather from some drug dealer off the streets like we did back in the day. It's so easy and technically legal to have a drug habit these days that no one seems to think you have much a problem if you can't get through the day without popping a Xanax.




I have mixed feelings on drug use. Recreationally, why not? Go nuts. Have fun. Just try not to do anything too stupid. Who am I to judge what others want to do/smoke/snort/etc/? But serious addictions that threaten your health and well-being and relationships with the important people in your life--that's a problem. And you should get help. But at the same time, I don't really feel that it's my place to tell someone if and when they need help. Especially with all of my own problems--I feel like it would be hypocritical. And in the end,  the only person who can help you is YOU. If I actually get the point of telling you that you may need to consider help for your problem, that means that a) your problem is quite serious even by my standards; and b) I actually really REALLY don't want you to die as a result of your problem. 

I have a couple friends with what I might consider a Problem. T. does a lot of oxy to the point that his sinuses are permanently messed up. He claims he's trying to stop and that he has cut down on how much he's doing every day. I didn't believe him until his congestion started clearing up. I do think he's making a real effort to stop. I have another friend with a serious alcohol problem (like passing out in public places on several different occasions kind of alcoholism) and the fact that the rest of us could not bring ourselves to offer her help/point out that she needed it has destroyed the relationship that we used to have. So sometimes a Problem should be addressed.

But where do you draw the line on drug use? I could sit here and say I don't have a morphine and oxymorphone "problem" anymore, but what about the other stuff? What about the ephedrine that I take before I go to the gym, or the lorazepam/Xanax/clonazepam collection I have in my purse and take whenever I'm bored? What about the enormous amount of dyphenhydramine I take every night to go sleep? Or the smokey treats? Are those problems? I don't really know. 

And even if I'm not snorting morphine every day, is that because the supply has dried up and I can't really afford it anyway? Or was it a choice?

It obviously was not a choice, because Vitamin Friend happened to have a half an oxymorphone when I saw him Friday night and he gave it to me. I took it without question and stashed it in my purse for later. (He gave me some percs as well, which I also saved.) The next morning, I was more or less bouncing off the walls in excitement over my little half an oxymorphone. 

I sat at my desk with my half-pill, looking for the dollar bill I usually use to crush them. (It's all messed up from crushing drugs, so no longer usable as currency).

And then I dropped the half a pill.

It was sort of like slow motion.

The floor surrounding my desk is not the best place for finding things. Especially not half-pills that are about the same size as the average dust mote.

So I think the fact that I nearly had an aneurysm, and then spent the next 30 minutes scouring the carpet for that half-pill is a good indication that despite not doing those kinds of drugs regularly, I still have something of a Problem.

With the pills that are pure oxymorph and no fillers, the best thing to do is crush them up and snort them. Not the whole pill, though. And if you swallow the whole pill, you WILL vomit. I promise. There's a really good chance you'll vomit from snorting it as well. Idk if this is common, but everyone else I know who's ridden the morphine train says the same thing--stuff with morphine in it often makes them vomit. 

And I think it's kind of hysterical that I have actually Classically Conditioned myself when it comes to reacting to morphine. Gina mentioned something similar last week, with that bit from Marilyn Manson's autobiography about the mere sight of cocaine giving you the sh*ts. I'm fine when looking at the morphine or oxymorph in pill form, but once I look at it after I've crushed it up, I start uncontrollably gagging. 

This makes snorting it a bit difficult. 

And I don't even have an effing gag reflex. But one look at a line--any line--be it coke, heroin, pixy stix, whatever; and I start gagging. 

So yeah, after telling myself for a year that I was Totally Done With Morphine, I did some on Saturday. But I have no more, and don't plan on getting more. I will take gifts, but I am not buying any. Because as fun as it can be, I don't really want to go back to that place. It gets very dark and dangerous. I have the year-round congestion/runny nose/sniffling, and the limp in the left leg to prove it.

So in short kids, think twice before you do drugs. Because doing drugs for fun can lead to addiction and abuse. And your sinuses aren't coming back. Mine have been fecked for 12 years now. TWELVE. All because I started snorting things as a freshman in high school and continued doing it a bit too often. Most definitely I had a Drug Problem in high school. You could probably trip for days, perhaps even weeks off a hit of my spinal fluid. 

I was in a different mindset in high school. I hated life and everything in it 
(extremely bad parenting/emotional neglect+being a little unhinged naturally+being an outcast amongst my peers = complete and utter psychopath)
At 12 I was already a smoker. At 13 I tried pot and cocaine for the first time, but wasn't crazy about either of them. I had made friends with enough older kids that I already knew seniors with cars by the time I was a freshman. And I had absolutely no fear when it came to drugs, so high school began with me ingesting every substance I could get my greedy little hands on. Plus, various events that year shattered the only bits of sanity I had left (getting sexually assaulted by a friend's ex-cop father while I was off my face on 3 hits of LSD being the one on top of the list of Reasons Mich Is Crazy). After that, the drug use really became a quest for me to blot out the world in any and every way I could find. 

Even now, years later, with most of the crap behind me, my gut reaction to bad stress is to erase it. Take pills. Just sleep for a few hours/days/weeks. And there have been occasions where I've gone on pill/drug binges of such magnitude that it's a miracle I woke up the next day. 

Kind of funny, 'cause I think the best photo ever taken of me is this one:

That's me after 12 straight hours of non-stop drug use. This night has become a legend--2 friends and myself ingested Lord knows how much prescription painkillers, sedatives, muscle relaxers, alcohol, and prescription sleeping pills; and I'm truly amazed we all woke up the next day...

Yeah I don't do that anymore. Just the occasional adavan and some smokey treats for me. And I don't count the smokies, because honestly it's not like it's any worse than alcohol.

Has anyone else ever tried these?
Effing ridiculous. 

So you know how sometimes when you're out having the craic with a friend or two, and there comes a time that you need to make your eyes look less stoned red? 
Good thing there's usually that one friend who always has eyedrops.

[As if your red eyes are the only thing that will give you away...]

But those Rohto eyedrop things are MENTHOLATED eye drops. Like seriously--who the heck thought it was a good idea to put menthol in eyedrops!??!
They do, however, make your eyes look supernaturally white and perfect, so I will admit that after some initial hesitation, I am addicted.

~*~*~*
Wow that post is kind of long. I apologize if your brain has now turned to sludge. But if you actually read everything up the this point, then I commend you for it. You get a virtual medal.

Thanks to the gorgeous girlies that gave me an award! :-* I'll do that post next. I'm trying to think of some good interesting facts about myself. I was actually thinking of making my own blogger award to give to everyone. We'll see how creative I can get...