No truer words spoken.

My uselesss, worthless babble

It's two am, at least, and I am wide awake but weary of the world. Why is it that beauty and love are so entwined? Like only people born a certain way are worthy. To be a beauty, and thus, a worthy human being, I would need extensive plastic surgery and to lose at least 80 lbs. I haven't gotten the money, and with my health problems, past and present, I'm not even sure I could lose all that weight. I can only do limited exercise, and from medications, bulimia, and old age, my metabolism is shot. Thus, my love life is doomed. I will always be alone, pretending to be fulfilled by friendships and reading and gardening, and all those other things pathetic old maids do. I will get desperate, and be horribly used and abused until I'm not even good for that.
I've never known love. My family is ashamed I exist. I am a worry and a bother. No one has ever been in love with me. I was always used for sex or money or whatever. Those things never last long. I have spent my youth as a disgraceful whore. I rarely went out with the same person twice. The one person I loved, couldn't get past the way I look. She looked ill every time she looked in my direction, as if she couldn't believe she linked herself to a monster. We see each other on rare occasions, but it can't last- she is slender and stunning, and I am embarrassed for her that we are connected in any way.  Sometimes I hate her, for being born perfect and not knowing suffering- but that's not her fault, no more than it is mine that I am hideous. I just wish I had died at birth, and never known the truth, that there is nothing worth living for. Our lives are spelled out from conception, and nothing we can do changes anything.

The Rest Is Just Commentary.......

Been talking to my friend Usman on care2. He's from Pakistan, and we're email friends. He is a Muslim, and often sends me things about Islam, and bias against Muslims in the West. I am vaguely Jewish, so it seems an odd friendship, but I believe that religious bigotry is a real problem in my country, and no matter who it's against, it's wrong. You know that quote about Nazi Germany? The one that goes, "They came for the Communists, and I wasn't a Communist, so I remained silent. They came for the Jews, and I wasn't a Jew, so I remained silent......" it keeps going, group by group, and ends, "....when they came for me, there was no one left to speak up." That's true. I speak up for the Muslims because prejudice is prejudice, no matter whom it's against. I know things aren't all hunky dory in Jewish-Islamic relations, but here in the US, at least, we need to work together to bring about a pluralistic society.
In other news, as human beings, we all need to stop trying to ruin other peoples' days, just because we are cranky for some reason. I have encountered two people who were obviously feeling bad today, and both have gone out of their way to be nasty to me. One was the cashier at the grocery store, the other was a family member. I yelled back at the former, but only after she yelled first. The latter is currently driving me insane, sending texts about how everything in my life is entirely inane. I am texting back pleasantries, though I will confess, I know pleasantries are as irritating to cranky people as her meanness is to me. I wish she would stop texting and go depress someone else.....but, no such luck thus far. I am going to go get some sushi out of the fridge, have dinner, and answer in one syllable words.

Scattered, Random, and Totally Mundane

Not much to say today.....I need ink to print things (like this blog) and can't get a hold of Rick to lend me $50 for ink. I can pay him back Thursday, no big deal, but we're down to the last 3 days of the month, and I'm rather broke. I need paper too, and, for some odd reason I'm not even going to begin to explain, rubber cement.
Just got back from CVS.....my brother called with some interesting news. His new Torts professor at law school is Charlie Korsmo, who was a child star in the early nineties. We've seen Dick Tracy so many times, we have it memorized, so this was amusing to me. Other than that, well, I got my objectives at CVS, so it's quite the day.

Arwen and Hanna, Insieme Sempre

Does this explain where I've been?

Long Time Gone

Got a lot to do. After my Book of the Dead is done, wanting to start my tarot card project. Then maybe my one woman show based on the life of Mae West.....I have to get this house cleaned, get myself into some sort of routine, read a bizillion books, ARCHIVE my ass offf......
Ah, that above was all written before therapy and lunch. Now I just want to go back to sleep. I feel very weak, physically, and you know the old adage; "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." My platelets have dropped to 49, and while I'm not giving up, I realise I haven't got a lot here to work with.....I used to believe in miracles, but now I'm not so certain. If everything is taken from you, how can you ever come back with the same strength? Because then you know, it can all just blow away again......

Feeling Wicked

Been in an Ativan haze he past couple of days. My life has been a miserable waste of time. Going to the doctor in a few minutes- maybe I am deathly ill, although everyone knows it's hardest to catch a break when you need one. "And I a smiling woman!" The old inane pastimes just get me nowhere, and I am irritated at the suggestion of them. My ex would rejoice to see it- she destroyed the bubbly, hopeful child, just as she set out to. Happy belated birthday, bitch. May someone drop a house on your fucking head. 

Beeautiful Sleeping

Walking a very unhealthy line.....I've decided to sleep away as much of my life as possible. This goes against my very nature- I was once a bright, happy person who couldn't get enough of life. I have been beaten into submission by life. Now I just want to know where the exits are. Sleep is a safe exit, with none of the permanence or stigma of suicide. I feel like the walking dead. The living have grown tired of me- hell, I've grown tired of me. As long as I'm asleep, I can't upset anyone. My parents will be thrilled by this, as will my so-called friends. Sure, I lose my entire life. But no one ever cared what I wanted, so why should they start now?

Thinking is Fatal.

Today is, frankly, dull. I know something exciting can't happen everyday, but at times I think there is no fate crueler than boredom. I don't want time to think. I've been thinking all summer. Thinking gets me nowhere but depressed. Just commiserating with Billie on the iPod, because "Billie's Blues" is all too familiar. I've been there, and I'm not going back. "Before I'll be your dog, I'll see you in your grave."
So, where do I go from here? Pride, that simple 5 letter word, is keeping from going backwards. I've been going in reverse so long, I don't even know what moving on is. Maybe I could start over, but what do I do? How do I get rid of the baggage that keeps me in one place? Hell, I love that baggage. How to I relegate the past to distant images in the back of my mind? The past may not be much, but it's all I've got. What future do I have? I'm sickly, there are no jobs to be had, and frankly, I dream of death constantly. Between depression and my organs, I wasn't meant to live long. Death would avail me of all these choices. Perhaps that's what would move me forward......see where I go when I think?

Manifesto of the Single Girl

Welcome to Hamilton, where the dating pool is a cess pool. Seriously. Why I even bother, is beyond me. I had a horrible night last night.....someone, I believe it was Woody Allen, said that being bisexual guarantees you a date on Saturday night. Bullshit. It just makes you hate both genders equally. I'm through with dating. Being alone is better than trying to stand an evening with anyone else. People are such disgusting, stupid creatures. Exhibit A: Some dumbass wanted me to live with him in Michigan after knowing him less than a week, then said I wasn't interested in him b/c I was a racist. Exhibit B: Smothering girl I met online who texted non stop, then got mad b/c I didn't want to meet her. Exhibit C: Guy that stood me up tonight. Exhibit D: Guy who let his creepy friend hang around all night, until I was so disturbed I walked 2 miles home in heels. All of these people are lunatics, and even bigger train wrecks than I am. Oh, yeah, there was also the girl who called me 23 times in the space of two hours........do you get my point? I'd like to meet a nice person, but I don't think it's possible. Thus, I give up. Single people are single for a reason- they aren't worth dating. Maybe it's true of me too, I don't know. My ex drilled it into me that I am worthless. Perhaps she was onto something? Also, I think people sense that I am damaged, like animals that can smell wounded prey. It just seems no one is satisfied until I am bled dry. Well, I reached that point tonight, so let me be!

People Are Strange.....

I will not call my ex, I will not call my ex, I will not call my ex.......some nights the dating scene is so bad, I want to run back to her. That's pretty damn bad, considering how I was treated by her, but some guys have even less respect for me, if that's even possible. I'm not certain which is worse, the drama and fighting or being treated like a disposable whore. It all gets old. I am thinking of giving up entirely, to tell the truth. Just stop dating, and sequester myself in the house. You can get used to monotony and loneliness, I suppose. Or I could just get blind drunk every time I start to feel anything. Hmmm, liking the last one. I am frightened of dating women- it seems they are all icy bitches who just want to put me down, or suffocating and pathetic. As for tonight, I am possibly embarking on the date from hell. I say "possibly" because I really doubt he'll show up at all. On our last date, he was 3 hours late, and the date itself was a nightmare. I have never been so mad or so uncomfortable. Right now, it is 9 pm, and he hasn't really confirmed he's coming yet. Fuck that. I'm out the door! I'm going to braid my hair and put on a bit of makeup. If he doesn't text by then, screw him, I'm going to the bar- ALONE!

The Bipolar Identity

Madwoman here, reporting for duty. Have been very busy these past few days, but it looks like things are going to settle down a bit.....maybe. You never know, really. I saw Nic today, and we had fun. We did some shopping and ate at Chipoltle. One thing I think people forget, in the treatment of the mentally ill....we are human beings, just like everyone. Nic and I are adults, not children, and it's getting old that our families look down on us as if we are deficient. With medical treatment, we have the same potential as anyone. If her family keeps holding her back, Nic is going to go totally insane once she gets out on her own. I had to learn moderation in all things, and I learned it the hard way, because I was treated like a little kid until I moved out on my own. My parents were very much my wardens when I lived at home, and they were never like that with my brother. I went a little crazy when I got out of their house, and I'm lucky to be here, considering things I've done in the past. I hate even mentioning I'm mentally ill, now. People automatically assume I'm a train wreck, and while I have my bad days, I'm ok. This blog is cathartic for me, because if I can write as a madwoman, I don't have to live as one. Anyway, to me, there is a difference between "madness" and bipolar. One is a state of mind, and the other is a chronic illness. I'm strange, yes, but it's mostly unrelated to being bipolar. The bipolar is largely treated. I do get depressed, still, but it's separate from my sense of who I am. It seems people want to pigeonhole me, and I won't accept it. I feel my family, in particular, has relegated me to "the attic" out of shame and fear. I used to believe that everything could be blamed on bipolar disorder, but now I am starting to take responsibility for my life. I just don't like being labeled like that, especially because so few people understand what it actually means to be bipolar. Yes, this blog is the work of a troubled soul, but there's more to me than just that.

Couldn't walk a straight line if I wanted to...

Getting a wee bit tipsy tonight....haven't got much to say. At least, not much that's coherent. "Be excellent to each other, and party on dudes!"

Poems from the Chaos

across dimensions
like the ones on the
tiny paper scraps
that guide my hands-
i know where to go-
only
you wanted me
from the start.
i danced without the benefit
of the seven veils,
just one-
it snowed that month
and seemed a paradigm.
so many childhoods later,
including mine,
we enter the fire willingly,
burning away 60 odd years
of loneliness,
smoking in the rain,
playing lovers' games and tori amos on the ipod
(i remember
you were frightened by my ringtone
the night we met).
i've lived for you,
you've died for me.
every touch is a gift of light,
eternity a matter
of course.
when you alter your soul for another,
you have found true love.
i am ready.


A.
The past is a dangerous place.
It is a minefield,
strewn with the bodies of those
who have gone before.
The survivors tiptoe through,
numbed by the opiates
of "the good old days."
It is a place of deception,
for time is pervaricating,
even as I speak.

B.
Fluid tongues long since forgotten,
the regret of a thousand years
crammed into three scant decades.
Battles fought by tin soldiers,
brave boys become casual casualties,
and it's all bound up
and shipped in cardboard boxes.
Suffering women
from Lilith to Marilyn
discover it was all for nothing-
life goes on, whether or not
we are defeated.

To God

I can't live like this. It's utter degradation. I know what I am, and it makes me sick. Don't want to wake up. Please, please, don't make me wake up.

here. in my head

Random lyrics running through my head.....

"The scars of your love remind me of us
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
I can't help feeling
We could have had it all...."

"Well I guess that I was lonely,
that's why I called you on the phone.
'Cause in a moment of forgiveness,
I didn't want to be alone..."

"I've overcome the blow
I've learned to take it well
I only wish my words
Could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real
But that's not the way it feels..."

"If someone said three years from now
You'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them out
Cause they're all wrong and
That last kiss
I'll cherish
Until we meet again
And time makes
It harder
I wish I could remember
But I keep
Your memory
You visit me in my sleep...."

Ok, maybe not so random. But sometimes, it's easier to sing than to speak......

"So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore..."

Ah, a nice lazy Saturday. Just sitting here at the computer, listening to Billie Holiday. It's very relaxing. Went to see my friend Viki yesterday, and ran a few errands on the way home. Tried out a new bar, but it was one of those places where everyone knew everyone else already, and I felt like an outsider. The music was interesting, though- mostly standards, which I love. I played a Tony Bennett song on the jukebox before I went along my merry way, which included a stop at Noonan's for cloves and something to drink. And incense- Wild Berry is the best incense. Had a few drinks at home and felt melancholy, so a friend of mine stopped by for a bit to cheer me up. I went to bed sometime before 4 am, and was rewarded for my intemperance with a morning headache. It wore off pretty quickly, though. Went to CVS for the things I forgot to get when I was there yesterday, and then came home. My aunt send me a really sweet card and a cute photo of her little granddaughter. So it's been a pretty decent couple of days. I think it's days like these that get you through life. I used to think the days of ecstatic perfection were what I lived for, but I think those days are over, for me. Stability and contentment are much more important. One can never sustain ecstasy, and the lows that follow are unbearable. I am an old woman, in many ways. I used to be a person of extremes- all or nothing was how I lived my life. Now I am striving to be more even-tempered. I love the person I was, and I mourn her passing, but I cannot live in her shadow. Moving on is the hardest thing, for me. Growing older isn't easy, either- to watch the world you once loved disappear, to be replaced by an unfamiliar landscape. "Can't you be optimistic? You're no longer the ingenue..." Pagans say there are 3 stages of woman- maiden, mother, crone. As I've never had children, I skipped from maiden to crone at 30. It's not been an easy transition, to be honest. Our society's views on aging are, if you ask me, destructive and unhealthy. And yes, I dye my hair (it was getting grey last I checked, so I stopped checking). Anyway, I agree life is different when you get old, but that doesn't mean you stop living. And don't give me some crap about how 30 is the new 20. If you're poor and can't afford botox, 30 is 30. I guess I'm more concerned about who I am than what I look like....... 

Angel De Mi Guarda

Today is kind of an odd day for me. Four years ago, a young man lost his battle with depression in a nearby town. It's, sadly, not an uncommon occurrence in our world. I am, myself, a survivor of a suicide attempt. I have dealt with mental illness my entire life, and when I read about him, it was like reading about myself. I'd never met him, but somehow, his story, his life, touched me. It's like, I have to live, in honor of those who didn't make it through. The boy became a sort of guardian angel to me, and I know he's the reason I am still here. I have found myself contemplating suicide at times, but I cannot go through with it, because in a weird way, he won't let me. He was reborn as an angel so that others would understand what they have here on earth is precious. You can take this literally, or symbolically, I don't care. But today I am celebrating life, both mine and his. Happy "bitrthday," angel. 

Madwoman Waxes Philosophical

Well, I think (hope) I've gotten through the depression. Either that, or I've had too much damn coffee :) I watched the first half of Rent with my mum, which sounds like a recipe for disaster- except it wasn't. She loved it. We've come a long way since my teens, and I think we've gotten to the point where she recognizes I am an independent human being.....she just doesn't want to know about it. Although it was archaic and insulting as a law relating to the US military, "Don't ask, don't tell" really does work in my relationship with my parents. I have no desire to marry or have children, so why do my parents need to be involved in my personal life? In a way, the rule gives me more freedom- they are too busy straining to look the other way to possibly figure out what I'm doing, and judge me. Besides, since I split with my ex, my love life has been pretty non-existent. I've been out on a few dates, but nothing has swept me away. I guess that's what I'm longing for- to be swept up into something greater than myself and the other person. Four years ago, my whole life has been in black and white, and then, in September 07, it was suddenly technicolor. That magic is rare, and perhaps I won't be able to find it ever again. Maybe a really good film noir is all I can hope for. I guess the important thing is, I can say I've lived. Living involves changing, and I'm not crazy about the person I've become, sometimes. And yes, I admit, I outright despise the person she became. It took me a long time to realise, those magical times we had together were never coming back. There are days I know I'd go back, on the off chance we could go back to the beautiful days. Deep inside, though, I know it's all over. Maybe there's a place, somewhere, where those days are frozen in time, and someday I can go back in time and live there.....but I doubt it. The world moves on, and so must I. There is a future. It will never be exactly the same, but I cannot go backwards. Maybe I will even be able to say I'm happy, someday, when the sharpness of the memories fades. Those things that were ours will become simply things again. Nothing is forever, good or bad. The pain will leave me, just as the happiness did.......these days, I just pray for the numbness, the absence of torture. It's funny, there are plenty of things we do to alleviate physical pain, but anguish of the mind is dismissed. You can take medicine, of course, but trust me, it's a waste of time. Our bodies are kinder than our minds, as well. You can pass out from physical agony, but you are forever stuck in your own mind. Just when you think you can't take any more.....you haven't got a choice. I don't believe suicide is the answer, simply because I don't believe death is the end. Not that I give any credence to hell, I just don't think we stop existing just because our body dies. I don't believe in heaven or hell much, because I think the world is completely random and thus does not punish the wicked or reward the good. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to life, so why should there be either in death? If life were good or just, I would not be in my situation. Same with a lot of people. I have struggled from birth, and have seen no benefit. My brother has breezed through life, and will start law school this month. He'll have a brilliant career, lots of money, probably a family. Why does he deserve these things, and I don't? What was my sin? This is why I am having problems believing in God. If there were a God, there would be some sense of justice in the world, wouldn't you think? I can't just trust. Every time I trust anyone, or anything, it turns out to be an illusion. I can only take so many rugs being pulled out from under me before I conclude, it's not worth it.

Insane Rant

I just want to say a big FUCK YOU to everyone I've ever come into contact with. This goes mainly for mental health professionals. The racist bitch at Fort Hamilton who made snarky comments about Italians, the therapist who called me a whore, the bastard who prescribed Depakote in the first place, upping the dose maniacally until there was a toxic amount in my system.......I told him it wasn't working, and with his doctor-knows best mentality, he didn't care. I was hallucinating before they got me off that one. Yes, all of you can go fuck yourselves. As for my family and friends, all they want to do is change to a "happy" topic, to magically get my mind off things. No one cares what I do, as long as I don't bother their dull and empty lives. Well, these tactics, brilliant though they are (rolls eyes), aren't working. If I could get some balls and get on with it, that would solve everything. They say suicide is a selfish act, but I think it is a selfless one. I'll leave all of you alone, when I'm dead. Isn't that what you wanted?

"On a no-news-is-good-news, middle-of-mid-year day...."

Started to write this day my daily blog, and gave up. For one, I really have nothing to say. For another, I was dizzy. Well, I took care of the dizziness my going to Wendy's and getting something to eat, but I still can't think of anything to blog about. Life is so boring, it's ridiculous. I did get invited into a neat group on Facebook the other day- Big Bellas of the US. I try not to let my size define who I am, but let's face it- when you weigh more than 150 lbs, there's no way around it. If you ask me, being a stick is unnatural for most women, and unattainable for many. I have too many health problems to deny myself food. I know what it feels like to be sick every time you eat, so if I can eat, I do. Last summer I lost about 25 lbs to Bush-Chiari Syndrome. I'm glad I finally feel better and am able to eat normally again. My team of doctors disagrees, but they can fuck off. Life is too short to count calories, but at the same time, no one was meant to live forever. I'd rather live to 60 on my terms than eat twigs and be 90. My nonna was a nurse, and led a "healthy" lifestyle. Yeah, her body is alive still, but she's gone through a lot with dementia. Quality of life means as much as quantity of life. I'm sick of thinking of my life as a prison sentence. So I broke up with my girlfriend. I'm actually better off now- she was abusive, and I'm tired of believing that's all I deserve. The good times were great, but the bad times almost literally killed me. I need to move on. "My life is more than a vision- the sweetest part is acting after making a decision." If I want to lay down and die, I can, but why would I want that? There's too much out there. I just need to figure out how to break out of this rut. I owe it to myself.

Bouncing off the walls of the attic........

I feel a little hyper today, like I can conquer the world. Granted, I will crash by tonight, but why not enjoy a little mania whilst one can? Not much going on here, really. It's harder to write in a good mood than a bad one. I can bitch for hours, but if there's nothing to bitch about, what in the hell do I say? I'm listening to "Joey" by Concrete Blond, which would usually be a painful experience, but it's not. Some things don't matter anymore. I can go back and change things, so why worry? I said I was sorry, and if people can't accept it, well, that's their problem, not mine. I'm thinking about starting a program I found online called WRAP. It's a system of living for people with bipolar and the like. It would at least shut my mother up, and it doesn't seem pushy or preachy, just a nudge in the right direction. Anyway, I should probably take advantage of my energy and finish up on the computer, then clean the living room and the bedroom. Ciao!

"Funny when you're dead how people start listening..."

So where do I go from here? My daily tarot card from astrology.com just came in, and I wonder if it doesn't mean something......

"The Tower card suggests that my alter ego today is the Survivor, 
whose superpower for revolution lies in my epiphany for change, brought on with 
the aid of a serious reality check. Today I have reached a turning point. It may 
be all over but the crying -- but I have the strength to move on and create a 
better situation for myself. You may say that I never saw it coming or learned 
the hard way, but with profound change comes new opportunity. One door closes -- 
another opens. So tear down the wall, and rebuild anew." 

I am indeed the consummate survivor. Is that all there is, though? Am I fated to just barely make it through for the rest of my life?

I realise I need to change- my reality check was when two people I once adored turned their backs on me today.

their backs on me. This is probably the worst time I've ever been through, this summer, 

and both let me know, in their own ways, that they no longer want me in their lives.

So here we go, a turning point. But what do I do? How do I move on and create a better situation?

I am barely able to leave the house....my instincts say to lock myself away in my head. Stop

this foolish business of communication with the outside world, and accept the punishment. 

I did learn the hard way- everyone will let you down, no matter who they are. People 

are only out for themselves. Anyone would sell me out. I just don't see what the opportuntity part

could be. Every door has slammed in my face, and I'm tired of starting over, just to find out that everyone is the

same. I am 30. All that's really left is death, and I've got a bit of a wait. Perhaps this 

is death- everyone goes away, one by one, a slow agonizing fade to black.  
  

Strange Little Girl.......

What a perfectly horrid mess the past 24 hours has been!  Learning that people will draw you in, vampirically suck you dry, and then leave you for dead....not a fun lesson to learn. Most people only want what you can give them, on their terms. If you refuse, balk, or otherwise irritate them, they will find someone else to use. There is no such thing as a friend or lover. Nothing is unconditional. Selflessness is a cruel fairy tale. I made love my god, and realise now, I am only safe by myself. I am sentenced to 30 years of this monotony, 30 years solitary confinement. My mind is all I have, and it will grow dull eventually. And at 60, my body will fail, and I will be free. I look forward to that day, but know I cannot hasten it. I have to live out my punishment. I believed in other people, and I lost the bet. May other idealistic little girls not fall prey to the same gamble. Disillusionment is the worst pain I've ever known.

"Do you have the power to let power go?"

Oy vey, what a strange couple of days. My past, both things I did and things I didn't do, is coming back to bite me in the ass. A caseworker with Transitional Living here in Hamilton (whom I haven't seen in 4 years) is telling his clients that I am a "pot head" and to stay away from me. First of all, he shouldn't talk about me at all. It's a total breech of confidentiality, and thus completely unethical. Second, he's lying. My partner for 2 years was also a client of his at the time, and yes, my partner had drug addiction issues. That doesn't mean I did. I was in school a lot of the time, getting stellar grades despite the atmosphere at home, and I resent being called names because of what someone else was doing. The caseworker was rarely around at all, and had us sign slips for visits he never made. If he was so damn concerned about drug usage at our home, why didn't he try to get us to seek treatment, or report us to the authorities? He's a gossip, and I don't appreciate it, especially from a supposed "professional."
Then I heard from my friend Viki this morning. It was mostly great, but she did run into my ex, who tried to ask about me. I'm grateful that Viki steered the conversation elsewhere, and I'm also grateful to know my ex is alive and well. Still, it gave the day a weird flavor, hearing her name. The weirdest thing? While Viki and I were talking, my ex called Viki on her other line. I guess we still have that weird connection......but I'm not going backwards anymore. No matter how hard people try to make me into what they wanted me to be, I'm moving on. It's time.

Blueberry&Lemonade

Not much new tonight. Things are pretty status quo. I attempted to dye my hair red, but the dye must not have taken, b/c it's still dark. Listening to the iPod, and wondering about things which might've been....but that's a dead end. Incense is burning, the Smirnoff is flowing....and for some odd reason, I'm feeling very empty and disappointed. My psychiatrist basically told me that my bipolar disorder is no excuse for my strangeness. Dammit, it was a good excuse, while it lasted. If my bipolar isn't the reason I'm the Madwoman in the Attic, what is? Was I born this way, or is it my own fault (like everything else)? I'm sick of being told my situation is my own doing. That's stupid. No one would choose this. And therapy isn't the answer. My therapist says I've been missing appointments without giving notice. It's mostly untrue. I missed one appointment because I woke up sick, and thus couldn't give sufficient notice. He rescheduled, and I missed that appointment because he didn't tell me he'd rescheduled. He left a voicemail, and I've told him a million times, I can't access my voicemail. The other time I supposedly didn't show, well, I have no fucking clue what he's talking about. I hate my therapist, anyway. I have to lie and act happy. If I told him how I really feel, he'd give stupid advice about positive thinking. Really useful (rolls eyes). Both my therapist and my psychiatrist tacitly disapprove of crying, which always subconsciously makes me cry in their presence. Let's face it, I'm a hopeless mess.
Oh, well. There is something rather delicious about drinking while listening to "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse. My quote of the day on my dry erase board is: "Didn't get a lot in class- but I know it don't come in a shot glass...." I may be a drunk and a nut job, but at least I know what I am.....

Film Feu, or My Life in Movies

When we were kids, Goat Boy (my younger brother) and I used to play a game called "movie theatre." Basically, it was watching the same films over and over on the VCR while eating cereal directly from the box (our version of popcorn). Some of our favorites were "Batman," "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure," "Dick Tracy," "Adventures in Babysiting," and the "Back to the Future" trilogy. This video is our favorite scene in "Adventures in Babysitting." The best part about '80's movies has got to be watching them from a current perspective. The hair, the clothes....and who knew the young girl crazy Darrell from "AIB" would grow up to be a gay actor best known for his work in a musical? For that matter, it's hard to watch Keanu Reeves in the "Matrix" movies if you think of him as Ted.
Movies reflect their time period, not only in history, but in the viewer's life. My public persona was partially shaped by Madonna's femme fatale, Breathless Mahoney, from "Dick Tracy." I was an awkward 10 year old when I saw the film in 1990, and I put the character of Breathless away inside me, saving her for a day when I could emulate her. I still know all her songs and gestures from the musical numbers in the film. The jokes in the comedies have become fond friends, and anyone who gets them, a kindred spirit. It's a shared history, and an affirmation, when I find someone who laughs when I say, "Strange things are afoot at the Circle K."
These films are a walk down memory lane, like visiting oneself as a child. And, if you haven't seen "Dick Tracy," it's worth it just for Mandy Patikin's odd cameo as the piano player, 88 Keys. Not to mention Al Pacino's bipolar Big Boy Caprice....

Out Tonight

Having a Rent night tonight. This is one of my favorite songs for hyper nights. When I lived on Main Street, I used to get drunk and go out and sing "Out Tonight" on the fire escape. I wanted to escape my life, and I get the same feeling from Mimi, that she'd just like to fly away sometimes. "In the evenings, I've got to roam, can't sleep in the city of neon and chrome. Feels too damn much like home, when the Spanish babies cried." Life with my live-in boyfriend was beginning to feel as claustrophobic as the stifling place I grew up. Everyone was always trying to make me something I wasn't, to own my soul. I was trapped back in West Chester, and now I was trapped in the city. The stagnancy nearly drove me mad. That was in 2007. Now I live alone, in my own apartment. I still feel like I'm going nowhere sometimes, but at least I have my liberty. My boyfriend of those days is long gone, and my mum and dad are fleeting apparitions. "So let's find a bar so dark we forget who we are, and all of the scars from the nevers and maybes die......." I'd like to, really. Just forget who I am, and move beyond all of the hell I've been through, if only for one night......that would be where freedom lies, in forgetting. "Life is short, babe. Time is flying. I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine." As always, thank you, Jonathan Larson.