Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I'm just a girl

I’m moody. I suspect this is going to be the norm for the next few weeks.


Pat of having OCD is obsessing. I get stuck on something and worry myself incessantly about it. Since moving, that something has been money. I know that most people worry about money, but I just won’t shut up about it. I can’t go for more than a couple of hours without wondering how I am going to alleviate the stress.

I thought things were looking up because it’s bonus time at the office. As it turns out, I have to pay over $2000 in taxes because of some money I won gambling last year – which I in turn loaned out to people, and the bulk of what I loaned out went to SS who still hasn’t paid me back one stinkin’ penny. Between that and catching up on the maintenance issues I’ve had to neglect since moving to the new place, my entire bonus is already spent. I burned through my tiny bit of savings really fast while moving and during the first couple of months before I realized that KB wasn’t going to be a contributor. I haven’t had my car serviced in over six months. My motorcycle registration was mysteriously (and conveniently) lost in the mail (which, according to DMV, I am still responsible for), so I received the second notice in January stating that I now owe triple the original amount. I’m sure the amount has continued to grow exponentially while it has gone unpaid. I’m sacrificing every possible luxury and skimping in every way possible to make ends meet. I clip coupons. I shop the grocery stores by which items are on sale. I buy most of my household products from the dollar or 99 cent store (including using their antibacterial hand soap in place of medicated facial cleanser – it works surprisingly well). The only organic food I eat is what comes in my weekly veggie box. I haven’t had a single professional service since moving: oil changes, car washes, manicures, pedicures, haircuts, waxing, massages. I am finally getting a real haircut this week. I’ve determined that I need one every three months if I do my own trims in between. I also need to buy a new pair of running shoes and insoles; my knee is getting all weird and crackly again. Oh yeah, and there is also the matter of paying off the overage charges on my wireless account so I can have my phone turned back on…let’s not even go there again. I’m tired of being pissed off about that business. I want to just get past it. I tried to be nice to people, and I ended up inconveniencing myself. You really can’t count on people to do what they say. I’m starting to doubt that I will ever learn that lesson. I want to chalk it up to experience and just go on with my life, but apparently the lesson is really trying to cement itself in my mind. I just wonder if I can still learn the lesson without feeling angry about it.

I really am tired of being angry. It’s not helping anything, and when I calm down I just feel sad. Then I have to do the positive self talk to get going again. When my mind finally quiets down, I go right back to worrying about the money again. Then I go back to how I got in this situation, and I get angry again. I just repeat that cycle over and over. This is not a healthy state of mind to be in while intimately involved with anyone. I have to get myself together before I even think about dating again. I am still hurt and bitter and angry and despondent. I feel isolated emotionally. I don’t want to let anyone in. I’m too much of a mess.

I am trying to focus the obsession on something else – getting physically stronger. I tried focusing on changing my body, but I just got hung up on food like I usually do. I get desperate to see results and then I start doing crazy things with my diet. That’s never a good direction to go in; it only ends in bingeing. This way, I can let my body tell me what it wants to eat. I’ll work it really hard when I feel strong and back off a little bit when I start to feel worn out. I have a pretty solid schedule: Zumba on Mondays and Wednesdays, running (and strength training if I feel up to it) on Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I also have yoga every Thursday afternoon. I’d like to switch that to Monday and Wednesday, in addition to Zumba, but so far I haven’t felt up to the challenge. Saturday is recovery day. I sleep a few extra hours, eat my fill of whatever I’ve been craving, stay up late watching TV, bar crawl, whatever. I also catch up on my magazines. There’s no journaling or coffee on that day either. It’s my day off from everything.

Last Saturday Twin Peaks and Puppetmaster came over to work on a film class assignment. I had planned on vegging all day and then going out to drink and dance that night. I ran into one of KB’s associates while buying a Red Bull in preparation for my evening out. We talked for a while and it made me feel sad, so I stayed in. I used my Sunday morning to be lazy instead. I went for my run just before dark in the rain. It was nice because there were only a few people out. I could zone out and be in my own world. It was a good way to end the weekend for a mending soul.

Friday, February 19, 2010

when the time comes, you'll know...that you need to grow a set

I have many mentors. Most of them I chose for myself, and some of them don’t even know. One of them is an older black woman who has been married to the same man for almost as long as I’ve been alive. We’ll call her Oracle, after the sage in the Matrix series. She was unable to conceive her own children, but she has stepchildren, an adopted child and grandchildren. She said that my life is filled with intimate involvements with severely damaged men. She said that she couldn’t understand why. To her, I seem to be a relatively baggage-free woman. I was surprised when she told me that. She said that my problem with emotional baggage is my inability to realize that I no longer have any. So, she thinks that maybe I attract these guys with so much baggage because I exude energy that says, ‘Give me your baggage because I need something to carry.’


I gravitate towards men who show compassion for other people and know how to have fun. No matter what I say, I cannot deny that there is always a sign to let me know when I’ve touched on something complex that is buried deep; I just choose to ignore it sometimes. For me, as a person who has survived and who knows other functioning survivors of abuse and grief, I believe that no matter what a person has gone through, there is still a good chance that they can be a happy and productive member of society. When you take away all the confusion around the dysfunction of growing up under tension and trauma, it comes down to one basic fact – eventually every person comes to a point in their life when they have to make a choice. You either choose to face the ugly truth and start working on breaking free from it or you choose to ignore it and continue living your life with the blinders on. Although it’s easier to just wear the blinders, it’s still a constant battle to keep ignoring the truth that keeps getting bigger and pushing into your fantasy world until it starts driving you crazy. This is where self-medicating fills in the gaps for most of us. Every alcoholic and drug addict is just someone whose pain was stronger than their will. I’ve been there. If my doctor could say so, I was an alcoholic in high school. My parents were both alcoholics at some point in their lives. The appealing thing about alcoholism and substance abuse is that when you wake up in the morning and say, ‘my life is so pathetic’, you can just get high and that voice of self pity just goes away. Oh man, I have totally been there.


Everybody needs a moment to feel bad for themselves and give themselves some sympathy. There is also something to be said about drowning your sorrows with kindred spirits. However, one day you wake up and you are sick to death of feeling pitiful (and tired of being hung over). So, you dust yourself off and deal with it. Everybody falls on their face a bunch of times before they manage to get strong again. You just can’t give up. That is the bottom line.

I like having people around me who have been through the wringer a few times. They really appreciate the simple things. Every night when I peel back the linens on my bed, I make this cooing sound in anticipation of feeling the sheets against my skin and sinking into the down and memory foam. I consciously took note of it for the first time last night, but I realized that I do it every time. When I go out with Twin Peaks and Puppet Master, we are giddy and often irritatingly friendly because we are so pleased to just be happy, together and having fun. I thought that KB and I also felt that way. For a time, I guess we did. When it came time to do the work and grow together, we couldn’t find any common ground. I am a demanding person, especially strict on myself, and I expect a lot from someone who shares so much of my time and resources.

For some reason, when I tell a man who is interested in being romantically involved with me that I am a slave-driving bitch, he never believes me. Maybe he says to himself, ‘she can’t be that bad because she talks so nice to me.’ Well, let me tell you something. The evil things I think are a hundred times worse than anything I’d ever say. When I see a guy wallowing in pity I think, ‘be a man, you pussy!’ I say, “Everyone has tough times. Take some time out and get yourself together. You’re going to be fine.” Oracle says that there aren’t any men who have experienced intense trauma that are strong enough to pull through it. She says that they will always need someone to help them carry their baggage. She says that they are not capable of coping as well as women do and will not be able to recover – they will always be dependent. I disagree. There has to be someone. I refuse to believe that there are no strong men out there. I don’t expect to find a man who is indestructible, but at least one who can spend time and energy to see things that are out of balance and work on them. I am aware that no one will ever be close to perfect, but complacency just bugs the hell out of me. I was one of the worst cases - complete with suicide attempts. If I can move past it, anyone can.  I am not that special...though I'd like to think so.

I do not have any plans of becoming more sympathetic. In my mind there is a line that cannot be crossed (thanks to T.H. for putting it that way). At this point in my life, alcoholism is one of the things that lie beyond that line. Losing my temper and spewing filth out of my piehole like a psychopath is also on the other side. I do not have any fantasies about saving other people from their demons. If someone wants to live their life on the other side of the line, they are free to do so. I’ve come too far to go back, so I won’t have any parts of it. Furthermore, if someone thinks so little of themselves that they want to go there bad enough to take me down with them, I reevaluate our association.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

back to the regularly scheduled programming

My throat culture results came back negative for strep throat. I feel like celebrating! Well, I feel like celebrating on the inside; on the outside I probably appear to need some sleep. The four consecutive days without exercise have my sleep clock all screwed up. I fell asleep after 11PM last night and around midnight the night before. Although I hadn’t received my test results yet, I finally gave in to my body’s need for endorphins and jogged around the lake yesterday evening when I got home. It was delightful – it kind of scares me that I just wrote that about running. I switched out all the fast music in my mp3 player for tracks from a few of the down tempo Buddha Bar CDs. That was a very good move. I need the music to regulate my breathing and strides. When I listen to fast music, I usually hyperventilate. I am trying to make these experiences as pleasant as possible so I can associate running with enjoyment. Once I am able to do that, I can build on it.

I am in an introvert phase right now. I finally pulled the guitar out of the closet a couple of nights ago. I’ve been getting up and journaling every morning before dawn, and I’m feeling more inclined to pursue the self-improvement projects I've been putting off. I do this from time to time. I think it’s the nature of a woman, to restore and reinvent herself. I still want to play with people, but I’m ready to have a shift in the type of crowd I play with. I’m taking a lot of pleasure in enhancing my solitary life right now, and I want to be around others who provide that same kind of pleasure for themselves. I feel myself pulling away from the bar and club scene. Something is changing. I’m not sure what is going to happen. I am filled with anticipation, but I am not in a hurry. This time, right now, is so full of hope and potential.


I think this is the opportune moment to bring back my regular meditation practice. I’ll try putting it in right after guitar practice so I can calm my mind down before I go to bed. Learning to play an instrument is so frustrating that I’ve never been able to really stick to it. As a child I jumped from one musical instrument to the next trying to find something that I could have patience with. I’ve attempted the guitar a handful of times. None of those attempts have lasted more than two weeks. Is this time going to be different? Let’s hope so. That would be a good sign.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Shut in day #4 - Monday, Feb 15th, 2010

I’ve spent most of the weekend shut in.  I’ve had a sore throat since Wednesday, and it has gotten progressively worse.  In the wee hours of this morning, I awoke in such pain that I resorted to using lozenges.  They worked like magic, and I was able to fall back asleep quickly.  If not for the dehydration causing me to drink like a camel and pee every couple of hours all night long, I may have had a full night’s sleep that night.   I slept plenty Saturday night and yesterday morning, when the phlegm was coming out of my chest.  I braved a trip to the Super Longs, which is now a giant CVS, to exchange a biodegradable plant pot that had mysteriously burst overnight.  I had two coughing fits in the 20 minutes I spent there.  I came back home directly.  Once home, I was so bored that I cooked all the vegetables I’d been neglecting.  After that, I treated myself to a hot shower, cold medicine and cartoons in bed.  I almost got bored enough to go out to SF.  Thankfully, I did not.  I can’t imagine how much worse I’d feel today.
Whatever this illness is, I believe it has come to its precipice.  I feel worn down.  I pity myself.  I’m hoping that this is not another bout of recurring strep throat like the one I had last year.  I have been taking good care to get enough rest, take my vitamins and exercise regularly, so it really wouldn’t make sense.  However, this was the same time of year that I got it last year – right around Super Bowl weekend.  It would be an eerie coincidence.  I’m going to schedule an urgent appointment tomorrow to get swabbed just in case.  However, I hope this is just a bug that finally begins to clear up over the course of the next 24-48 hours.  I’ve suffered with it long enough, and I am so tired of disinfecting every damn thing around here.
Although I have never been a big fan of running, I do miss the endorphins.  I ran on Thursday and Friday as scheduled.  I would have run yesterday too if it wasn’t for the excruciating coughing.  Saturday was my official day off from working out, but I probably would have gone to 24 Hour if I felt better.  Today is also a day off from running, but I would normally be doing Zumba.  I can’t wait to get back in the gym.  I miss the good sweat.  To hell with this sickly fevered sweat!  I am soooo done with being sick.  I wonder if you can overdose on vitamin C.
The few trips I’ve had out of the apartment haven’t been much more than the normal errands.  I treated myself to a houseplant shopping trip with the money I would have spent at the clubs.  It isn’t much on the bar scale, but it buys a fair amount of plants and plant care supplies.  I got this one hanging plant that has these furry red blooms - a chenille plant. 
I freaked myself out a few times with it already, mistaking the blooms that had fallen to the floor for caterpillars when I stepped lightly on them.  My skin crawled for hours afterwards.  I snickered about it a little at the time, but it’s so much funnier now.  I also went on “gnat watch” for several hours during my shut in time.  If one of those little bastards makes a home in one of my plant pots, there’ll be hundreds of them in a week’s time.  I’ve been to places where the insects are blood-thirsty, enormous, poisonous and in overwhelming numbers, but I can’t stand to have them in the house.  An ant or two foraging in vain is one thing, a billion gnats procreating in my plant pot is an entirely different matter.  That used to happen to my plants at work all the time.  It’s absolutely disgusting.
I retrieved a bunch of vacant pots from mom’s yard on Friday.  They’re nice pots – I purchased them for my last apartment.  When I moved back home, most of my indoor plants died; Mom’s house isn’t exactly a haven for plants.  It’s dark, dry and dusty.  I rescued two of the survivors when I brought the pots over.  They seem to be doing well now.  One of them is a money tree that was barely surviving.  I’ll have to wait and see how well it recovers.   I dare say that all the new guys appear very pleased.  This apartment has great light.
It is so boring.  I haven’t journaled so much since high school.  What I need to do is grab that guitar out of the closet, but I feel so damned terrible.  I just want to lie down and sleep until I’m not sick anymore.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Leveling Out

I just survived my first weekend without a cell phone. It will continue like this until I have managed to pay off that huge bill left from me canceling my additional broadband line and the remainder of the overages from many times that Killa B fell asleep with the laptop connected. Yes, this is one of the thorns that continue to drain any rosiness from my memory.


Secret Squirrel paid me a visit to return my DVDs. He hung out for a few hours and we watched Daybreakers. It was an okay film, for a cliché vampire movie. That idea is so overdone right now. As I suspected he would, he peppered me with questions about himself…figures. Everyone needs his/her ego stroked once in a while. I wasn’t really in the mood to compliment the mf, but I did my best to be civil.


Saturday night was “Blessed”, a monthly house music party at Somar, at the border of downtown and the Uptown neighborhood of Oakland. Blessed is quickly becoming THE house music party of the east bay.  I'd been to the location a couple of times prior without it making much of an impression on me, but I heard that Patrick Wilson would be spinning so I figured it was at least worth a look-see. I had a back-up plan to check out Levende East in the event that this party wasn't enough to hold me.  None of the signage listed him, but Mr. Wilson strolled up in the joint around midnight looking driven. I was alreayd sweating my ass off before he got there. It was a good night for dancing…save for the tall creepy guy that kept dancing a little too close. Eventually, he started to say something in my ear and I got the hell out of there so quickly that anyone watching me could have gotten whiplash. Creeeeepy!  I looked at the photos on Facebook today, and I could only see the back of my head. I’m usually dancing too hard to notice that there is a camera, and I’m most often right in the center of the mass of gyrating bodies. Yeah, good stuff. I still left the club just before 1AM, confirming that I’m getting old. If that wasn’t convincing enough, the cacophony of creaks and pops as I swung my legs over the side of the bed to go to the bathroom next morning drove the message home. My back, hips and knees were tender all day yesterday. In addition to the dancing, I ran the lake Saturday morning in the rain and we played an hour and a half of Dance Dance Revolution before going out. I may be getting older, but I’m not quite that old yet.  Although I'd planned on playing more DDR, Sunday was another movie day. Twin Peaks and I watched De-Lovely – the Cole Porter story and my favorite cult films of all time – Secretary.  LOVE that movie!


I feel much better now, but the hour of Zumba was more challenging this afternoon than I was mentally prepared for. I did some Feldenkrais exercises with one of the trainers afterwards too. I needed it. For a few minutes I considered going to a class at 24 Hour Fitness tonight (I tend to double-up when I’m without a more “desirable” outlet). However, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself on Monday. My knees have finally stopped clicking, and if I make myself too sore so early in the week it’ll be nothing but pain and suffering until Thursday night. Working out should make you feel energized and strong after you’ve had a few hours to recover. At the most, you may need a good night's sleep.  If it makes you feel fatigued, then you need rest. There’s also the huge issue of food. Cheeseburgers and fries are not the best workout fuel. OMG food! If I could just clean up my diet a little bit. Damn chocolate!  Hmmm, I still might opt for a little yoga when I get home.  We'll see.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

I need another deadbeat like I need a hole in my head

I have nothing of interest to say.

I wrote that like it’s something new.

I bore myself with my incessant droning on about these trivial obsessions.  Yet I continue.  I’ve been a raging bitch all week, and it’s not even PMS.  I lost it last night.  I felt the physical manifestations of my suppressed anger bubbling up to the surface last night.  My hands were unsteady as I tried to type letters on my blackberry.

I told SS to bring me my things that are still at his apartment.  I’ve been asking him to return my DVDs for more than 6 months.  He hasn’t even watched them.  There is no reason why he cannot return them.  The first few times I asked he said he simply forgot to bring them.  A few months passed – no DVDs.  I asked again this week, nicely.  He said that he was going to hold them until I provided ‘oral payment’ for them.  I shrugged it off and said’ yeah right just bring them to me.’  He kept going with what I guess he thought was a comical train of thought.  I was not so inclined.  I did not respond immediately because I didn’t feel like kidding around.  I sat on my hostility all day – how could he even propose such a thing when I already told him that I have no immediate plans of breaking things off with KB to go back to dating him.  When I got home, I let his ass have it.  I didn’t realize that it had been almost a year since I loaned him some money and he hasn’t paid back a single dollar…until I had a chance to stew on it.  I told him that the least he could do is bring me my DVDs that he hasn’t even watched since he doesn’t feel that it is necessary to pay a debt he has owed for almost a year.  This time it’s not just me being crazy.  It’s insulting!  There is no creditor on this earth who would be okay without at least getting a good faith payment for a full year if the original arrangement was to have the entire debt paid off in 9 months.  At first I asked myself if I was just being a bitch about it, but no I am not.  I have been more than sympathetic about the situation.  I know he stretches his paychecks tight.  I know he has a kid.  He also knows these things.  If he couldn’t afford to pay me back, then he shouldn’t have borrowed the money in the first place.  I’m not rich.  I need my shit.  It’s not about principle this time.  I asked him at the end of 2009 if he still intended on paying me back and he said he did.  So where is the damn money?  The fucked up part about the whole situation is that I wouldn’t even be making a big deal about it right now if he wasn’t holding my damn Power Yoga DVD hostage.  I don’t have the money to buy another one.  I shouldn’t have to.  It’s mine, he’s not using it and he owes me money.

Last night I wondered how much documentation I have of the money I loaned him, and I’m pretty sure I have it written and/or electronically with dates and amounts.  I have a terrible memory, so I tend to write things down. I also have bank statements to prove the withdrawals happened.   Then I’d have to take days off from work to jump through all the hoops, play that waiting game, serve him with a summons, yadda yadda yadda.  At some point I would eventually be doing it for principle.  Pain the fucking ass.  Then I thought of showing up at his part time evening gig and hanging out at the bar regularly until he pays his debt.  I wouldn’t need to say anything because he’s such a secretive person that he’d do everything in his power just to keep me from sticking around there.  Once I got driunk one good time, I’d tell the whole damn restaurant his business anyway…and make an ass of myself.  The more I thought about it, the more it just seemed like making this a bigger pain in the ass than it already is for me.  I needed to do something that will work faster; something that won’t take as long and I will only have to do once.  That thought process took me down into a deep, dark crevasse that I haven’t visited in a long time; things I hadn’t considered since I was a teenager – setting his car on fire, sending a box of dead rats to his office, selling his debt to a loan shark for a fraction of what he owes – evil things that could eventually lead to me going to jail or come to some other “Cops”-worthy dramatic end.

I don’t even want to deal with it!  Just bring me my shit and disappear back beneath that rock you crawled out from.  Stop pretending to be my damn friend.  The last thing I need in my life is another lying deadbeat.  Who needs friends like that?  Seriously, he needed help and I gave it.  Now I’m eking by from paycheck to paycheck and the MF hasn’t even paid me back a single dollar for an entire year.  I could loosen this budget up if he just made a payment one-fifth of what he owes.  That’s all… but it’s crystal clear that is not going to happen so stop fucking stringing me along.  Stop calling me.  Stop trying to be friends with me.  He had the nerve to get an attitude with me!  Whatever.  Just bring me my shit.  He hasn’t been an asshole or anything about it, but he hasn’t done what he gave his word that he would do – another deadbeat.  I don’t care about people’s intentions anymore.  A liar is a liar and a deadbeat is a deadbeat.  Secret Squirrel is both.  I guess your credit score really is a reflection of the person you are…

Let this be part of the lesson:
I will not loan anyone any money in an amount more than what I would give them for a birthday or Christmas (then I can say that it was their present).
I will not live with anyone again (unless I am madly in love with the mf).
I will not believe what anyone says they are going to do unless they prove themselves capable of doing it first.
To place so much faith in other people is foolish…

Monday, February 1, 2010

Did I say something wrong?

I’ve been wandering about the world today in a post-house music haze. Saturday night I went out to the Taboo reunion party at SOM (formerly known as PINK). David Harness, why do you toy with my emotions so?


After a mere two hours of shaking my ass like I’d just been released from the nuthouse, my clothes were soaked and my hair pasted to my forehead. I felt a little old leaving the club just before 1 AM, but I worked it the hell out. I tried having a drink and just couldn’t handle it. I know, shameful. Perhaps those days are gone for me. They’ll be back again as soon as I get to Vegas.

I stopped over at this seedy little bar by the downtown library to have a drink with KB before heading out the other night. I leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “You’re confusing”, he said. He is referring to the night when he asked me if we were on or off. I said off. Mind you, I first gave him a disclaimer stating that it was too early for me to make a decision because I was still angry about the failure of the cohabitation experiment. I made it clear that my judgment was not reliable and I wanted to defer the decision until when I could better determine how I truly felt. He didn’t want to accept that. So, now I am confusing. Oh well, what can you do? So, I just kept the conversation moving as best I could. I figure he’ll either come around or not. Either way, I was honest. If that’s not enough… there’s always platonic friendship to fall back on.

I have these hot spots on my big toes. I have managed to avoid getting full-on blisters, but every time I go to Zumba dance class they become tender afresh. I even switched to wearing dance shoes instead of sneakers, which hasn’t helped. I do find that I have to use more stabilizing muscles with the dance shoes because they slide. I also have to work a little harder to get air – so fun! Today’s class was brutal, but I enjoyed it so much that I am considering going to the evening class. Should I or shouldn’t I? Goddamn toes! Poor toes… Maybe I can get away with some duct tape around them. Ah, duct tape on my feet brings back memories.