Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Things I think are funny on Christmas

  • Spelling Jesus "Jeezus" and Jeebus" and wishing everyone a Merry Baby Jeezus Day a lot
  • The phrase "tree-worshiping pagan infidel"
  • When collecting torn wrapping paper, refusing to put it in the garbage bag, saying quite deadpan, "I want to put it in the middle of the floor of my living room."
  • The dead silence and glares that followed
  • My Jew family going to the movies, because that's what Jews do on Christmas
  • My Jew family ordering Chinese food for dinner tonight, because that's what Jews do on Christmas

Sunday, December 23, 2007

You, Topia

I just cleaned the living bajeezus out of my kitchen. My fingers are all pruney. I still need to mop the floors and finally put away all the dishes and shit thats been living in boxes in the dining room since I moved in (AKA stuff I won't need unless I throw a dinner party), but then I can put up a large "Suck It" sign when my parents pick me up tomorrow.

I have a new guess at a possible migraine trigger: the turtle. It seems totally random, but it showed up right when this batch of migraines did, and it's right by my computer, so maybe something in the woodchips? And thinking back to when I had the really awful bout in Oberlin and Cleveland, that's when I had my turtle. Maybe it's a coincidence, but it's worth taking the turtle back to my parents' house at least and seeing if the head gets better. How weird would that be?

Ever step back and wonder why basic food, shelter, and medical coverage aren't provided by the State? Of course upgrades should be available for purchase, but why the hell don't we make sure our most basic needs are met? We're just so primative in certain ways, it's amazing.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Happy thoughts for tonight

Standard overwhelming fears:
  • Our parents don't love us*
  • We will never live up to our parents' expectations
  • We are doomed to turn into our parents
  • We have already turned into our parents
  • We are undeserving of our parents' love
  • No one is deserving of our love
  • We will never be capable of love
  • We are unloved
  • We are unlovable
  • We will die alone


*For me, I've never been so concerned about if my parents love me or not. It's much more an issue of their disappointment. But that's just me...

"sick"

When people ask about this period in my life, I'm going to say I was "sick" in a vague finger-quotey way so they think I was dealing with an unwanted pregnancy or had a nervous breakdown or was otherwise put in some sort of mental facility or had some other medical problem so traumatic I don't care to be reminded of the specifics. I just feel like for all my pain and inconvenience, there's very little drama and story. Just pills and dog and no end to my whining.

Friday, December 21, 2007

pain knit pain pain pain

Stupid fucking inescapable pain! I just can't distract myself from it or do anything else or make any decisions right now. I want to do something else. I want to knit. Let's knit. But I finished the Priority #1 project (my cousin's Chranukah present fingerless mittens) and now I wanted to work on a dog sweater but I don't see my dog sweater book and I looked for it and I can't find it and it hurts to think any harder about where I last had the book and I just want to do something to distract myself from the pain and decision-making is not helping and it hurts a lot in my head so book must magically appear or I will have to just start making another pair of fingerless mittens for no one in particular because they are easy and I don't have to think and think=hurt and hurt=bad and I was supposed to call my neurologist again today but I was asleep and I don't know when he'll be open next week thanks to stupid Jesus (never too dead to insult religion) and I really want to drill a hole in my skull right now except it would have to be a quiet drill because loud drill would be bad.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

in dreams

More sleep, more dreams, including:
  • tracking down my redneck fugitive biological father, then being torn between working with the authorities to pass along his address and information or just leave him alone, which is all he wanted
  • being part of a military tactical team that trapped a pedophile in action in a New York City park, but then something went wrong and someone set off an atomic bomb that split up and bounced a several times, creating four or five mushroom clouds around Manhattan and contaminating everything from the air to the water to the soil to the pizza. Places that claimed to decontaminate pregnant women and sell clean pizza were big deals.

tally marks

Last night I went to bed at 1 AM. Not that late for me. Then the dog woke me up at 3 AM. I thought he wanted to go out. He didn't. I fell back asleep before too long. The next time I woke up, UPS was at the door with a package for me. It was 4 PM. Holy fuck. I had all these phone calls to make today, and I sold another item on Etsy that I wanted to mail immediately. I took a lot of Vicodin yesterday, so today I'm avoiding the stuff in case that's what zonked me, but I'm on enough pills now that it could be anything. Pills pills pills. Also, Aunt Flow is in for her monthly visit, which makes everything so much better.
The worst part? I'm exhausted and my vision's totally fucked up and the pain is "around a 6" and I just want to crawl back into bed.
Drill hole in head now, please.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

the coldness that is my life/tea

Last night I had a strange dream (so what's new?). My name was Coleen and I was at a hospital getting all these tests done and I tried to joke, "It's not like I have cancer," and the nurse wouldn't say anything. And I kept saying "At least I don't have cancer!" but no one would respond. Somehow, I figured out they thought I might have blood cancer, but they didn't want to tell me.

The passage of time is a strange thing when you're dead. Sunday is only different because there is no mail and I can't make phone calls to business establishments. Some days, all I have to show for myself are three more punched out pills from my Effexor packs.

I shouldn't be such a fucking fatalist. Yesterday I was in a GREAT mood. I was on two Vicodin and my dad came out and took me to get my new double-dose of Topamax at Costco and we picked up his iPod car adapter thing I pre-purchased online from Best Buy and I gave him his back his now LibriVox-filled iPod (both Jewnukah presents) and we listened in the car on the way to and from truly fabulous Indian food at Tiffin. I'm in Daddy's Girl mode these days, and it helps that he seems to know how to handle me in Migraine Mode, so we had a lovely evening while my mom was off visiting my sister and grandmother and aunt and other such relatives in California. It was blizzarding and cold and lovely. But because at this particular moment I am not on Vicodin and I am cold and in pain and fussy, you get the Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow version of my life. Lucky you!

Also, I am PMSed. That helps. A lot. Nine times.

Oh, crap. I put Chai in the microwave and forgot about it. Now it may be strong and cold. My life is ruined. Living with constant pain is one thing, cold tea is quite another.

I like writing. It makes me happy. It is cathartic. Particularly writing about myself. Narcissism is cathartic, too. Me me me mine mine mine write write write.

And this is without the Vicodin.

Now where's that effing tea.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Death and Marriage

This week has been pretty lousy and boring again on account of the migraines. That plot line is just so old I've stopped writing about it. I try not to tell my parents unless they call in the middle of it, and even then I find myself lying to my mother so she'll leave me alone.

New things within Migraine World: I saw a new internist on Tuesday who was great (even though her office sucked and made me wait an hour with no explanation or communication and saw people with appointments after mine before me) and she gave me an entire months worth of drug company samples of my Effexor and told me to come back every month to save myself the $300+. Awesome. I talked to the new neurologist again today and he's doubling my dose of Topamax and gave his blessing to my Vicodin popping and said call again in a week or so. He's very involved. I wonder how much medication he'll give me before he lets me drill a hole in my head.

As for the marriage portion of my post title, I have found my future husband. So I don't know how old he is or what he looks like or if he's a child molester or ax murderer, but those are all minor details. This is his site on Etsy. If you read his descriptions, you too will want to marry him, but I'm terribly sorry, he's mine.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

bid-ness, yo

Why is it any of my mother's business if and when I call insurance people and doctors go to the DMV? And why is it her job to tell me if and when I should have done these things? And why, at age 25, do I find myself having to explain my perfectly valid reasons for rearranging the dates, times, and priorities of my errands to my mother? This is stupid. I know it's her weird neurotic thing, not mine, but it is unbelievably unnerving and annoying and I just have to avoid talking to her whenever possible until she gets over whatever is making her get all up in my bid-ness.

Monday, December 10, 2007

crafts and crap and life and strife and monkey and chunky

Saturday, I was a real person again! On my way out the door I ran into my cousin-in-law, who was rehearsing for a play in the lobby of my building. I then ran errands and met with a friend at the Handmade Market, a craft fair at a bar, coincidentally located around the corner from where my cousins live. It was pretty entertaining and I managed to buy only a $2.50 home-made lipgloss that is really quite lovely, though I was smitten with a series of bracelets made from old watch faces and subway tokens, but I don't wear bracelets and didn't know for whom to buy one. As we were heading towards the door to look for food, I was thinking I should call my cousins and ask where Bite, a restaurant I'd been to a few times with them that I liked very much, was located. Then I noticed that one of the exits for the bar actually led into Bite. So we ate at Bite and the food took forever and I was very hungry but it was good and the conversation was good and I was out and social and human, even if we were surrounded by hipsters. On my way home I stopped at Joann Crafts and spent too much money, came home and immediately made a completely lovely set of cards and one of my weirdest cards ever. I listed them on Etsy before going to bed, and the really weird one sold Sunday morning! I win.

Sunday morning, NBF and I drove my old car to my family-friends' house and signed papers and picked up my new car! I have a new car! 2003 Saab 9-5! It is GORGEOUS! It is all silver and sleek and pretty and leather and has seat warmers and I have to be nice to it and not mess it up because it is too nice to mess up. I even put a towel down on the front seat because my dog was getting snowy salty paw prints on it when we drove to my parents' house and I didn't want it to have snowy salty paw prints. It's too pretty to have snowy salty paw prints. Pretty pretty princess car.

Last night I went to my parents' for dinner. Brisket and latkes and menorah lighting. Jewish much? I'd mentioned that I had to leave first thing this morning because I had a lot to do today, with going to the DMV and errands and phone calls and whatnot now that I'm functional again and it would be a weekday. My mom was asking about all the specifics of my phone calls and such, as though it were interesting conversation. I hate talking about that crap. It's lame and annoying enough to have to do it without it becoming the topic of polite conversation. Plus as soon as my mom knows I have to do something, she takes it as something she has to remind me to do. So I kept being vague despite her odd prodding and changed the subject.

I frequently dream about being walked in on when I'm changing or going to the bathroom, or that strange uninvited people keep getting into my house or apartment even after I thought I locked all the doors. My subconscious isn't always subtle.

I drove home from my parents' this morning feeling that thick heavy pre-migraine tired, but I didn't sleep well last night, so I figured I'd pop pills and crash for an hour before getting started on my errands. Woke up with my alarm and MIGRAINE. Again. Fuck. More pills, more sleep. Still migraine. Basically slept all day and it's still here. I have another doctor's appointment in the morning, this time with a new internist, and since it's right next door to NBF's school I was driving him down there anyway, so maybe he'll get to do the driving and we'll see what New Doc can do for me if the headache doesn't die overnight. Fuckfuckfuck.

At least I'm getting several real days of real functioning between my migraine days now. Even if this is the new pattern, it's a better pattern. Let's go, optimism!

Friday, December 07, 2007

Burning stove experiment: Trial #3453462352

Maybe I do stupid shit/put myself in bad situations because I have no great global wars to fight or worlds to save, so instead I must rescue myself from the Perils of the Unpaid Bill or the Overdue Homework Assignment.

Maybe I am looking to be rescued by someone else. Oh no! Look at me, precariously placed on the edge of procrastination! Whatever can be done! And then my stupid parents keep being the ones to rescue me, and they are not the ones I want to have doing the rescuing. I want some sort of proof that the world is big-hearted and good and that someone else will catch me, like a fireman or an insurance agent, and set it all right again. But no matter how many times I keep falling on my head, I climb back up again to once more plunge over the side with the hope that this time will be different.

How many times in a row can a child touch a burning stove before she is labeled retarded?

Monday Revisited

I have to backtrack a touch, since the fire distracted me from other important Monday events.

Monday morning I called my "health insurance company." From the beginning, they made it impossible to get anything concrete with my name, dates, and benefits on it, constantly referring me to their general brochure. Had they not been the insurance through my school, I would have assumed they didn't actually exist and were some sort of scam or money laundering outfit. Well, I should have gotten something writing, because now they say my benefits expired back in July. What? I still can't get a frigging clear answer (customer service keeps feeding me lines from their general BS list and I'm beginning to think they don't actually have access to their own records) , but I have a guess as to what happened and it is partly my fault for not figuring it out sooner (even though they didn't mention my lack of being insured the several times I contacted customer service since July).
So I was extremely frustrated and a little freaked out because a lapse in my insurance means my next provider can consider my migraines a "pre-existing condition" and refuse to pay for their treatment for a year, and that is bad. But it isn't "killed a puppy" bad, as NBF put it, and my parents seemed to think it was "killed a puppy" bad, and I took it as "killed a puppy" bad, and it was all very tragic and "a clear indicator of my problems with basic organization and executive functioning skills that I have to do everything within my power to fix as soon as possible before I ruin my own life." My parents and I feed off of each other when it comes to this sort of intense demanding perfectionism, and it's not healthy. This is why I need to live in another state, some time before the invention of the telephone.

That was the morning. In the afternoon, I saw a neurologist. I printed out an amended version of the Things I Have Tried list for him and we spoke for less than 20 minutes, but still managed to get through the following:
  • I have done a shitton in my pursuit of migraine panaceas
  • Either my last doctor or my understanding of my last doctor was incorrect, because while Depakote and Topamax are both epilepsy drugs, they are very different and Topamax is absolutely worth trying, even after Depakote failed
  • It is strange I have never been given a steroid in injection or "pill pack" form to break my cycle of headaches.
So I started Topamax, which builds up in my system and I take daily forever, and some generic steroid pill pack, which I take less and less of every day for a week until I take none at all.
Monday night was terrible. I was back to my worst level of pain and I gobbled down the Vicodin in desperation at 3 AM.
But since then, things have been much better. I went out for coffee (well, chai lattes) with NBF this evening and even in bright lights and loud music and talking, my head only poked at me a little. Maybe this will finally do it for real and I can get out of this piece of shit mother fucking 5+ week cycle of hell. That would be delightful

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

NYT on perfectionism

NOW where's the fire?

This is getting silly. It's 2 AM and I couldn't sleep and there was noise in the halls of my apartment and there's never noise in the halls of my apartment. I got up and saw three firetrucks parked outside through the window, so I decided to put on a bathrobe and shoes and investigate. My lobby had six of seven firemen standing around (I so should have gone down in a negligee and stilettos), and the one who spoke to me was all grumpy and old and had a mustache and said someone was cooking upstairs and burnt something. Where were they earlier when I was busy setting my apartment on fire? And why don't I own a negligee? I need to work on that.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

FIRE

I just came remarkably close to setting my apartment on fire.

It's the first night of Chanukah and I couldn't find my menorah, so I grabbed an empty styrofoam egg carton, flipped it upsidedown, and stabbed the candles into it. I thought this was brilliant. I put it in the window and decided I'd stay in the room while it was going just in case, but I was pretty sure I'd seen this done before.
I opened up one of my Chanukah presents: my new exciting digital camera! So immediately I grabbed this purse I made and listed on Etsy and started to take better pictures of it. With no great background in the living room, I went wandering around my apartment looking for a good spot to photograph it. I ended up in my front hall, right outside my living room, playing with the camera settings as I took multiple pictures of the purse hanging from the very attractive doorknob of my big-ass closet. Then I headed back into the living room.
FIRE!
On the window sill! Where the egg carton had been! Now it was just fire! I ran over and managed to blow it out (it was still small enough that a few good blows did it). The room had filled with smoke. I opened all three windows. In the far corner from the window, the smoke was particularly black and vile-looking. The whole room has been covered in a speckling of ash (clearest on the white paper in my printer and on my white couch, which just looks dirty in a strange speckled way). There is a puddle of black bubbly evil melted to my window sill. The whole room smells toxic. It is very cold, but I don't want to close the windows until I'm sure the Evil is gone. I locked my dog in the bedroom and moved the turtle to the bathroom.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Woohoo!

Just sold my first thing on Etsy! Now I have to go buy ink to print it up and envelopes big enough for it to fit. Weeeeeee!

boys and sleep and un-sleep

I seem to be drawn to Boys I find annoying because they are similar to me in ways I don't like but they're physically attractive so not only is it forgivable that they are annoying but also I want to jump them a little bit.

Stupid boys.

Also, today I tried not taking any drugs (besides the Effexor, of course) and I spent the day quite nauseous and came close to throwing up a number of times but never did and I slept pretty much until 4:30 PM with a brief forced awakeness a la dog and hunger. Now it is almost 6 AM and I'm in a bit of a manic state and still terribly nauseous but poking around on the etsy forums is somehow more attractive than sleep where I have hours of crazy vivid dreams.

I wonder what it is like to go through life without such a fussy body.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

like a prayer

Tonight, my father, the agnostic doctor, told me he's praying for me. When did I become something to be prayed for? And when did he start praying?

While I've lost all faith in the present knowledge of modern medicine and never really had any in a misaligned qi, prayer never even occurred to me. Even as I was reading all the C. S. Lewis Christian apologetica, Religion seemed less real than Narnia. Prayer gets filed away alongside witchcraft, superstition, The Secret and unbalanced gall bladder qi. My migraines are what's real and immediate, and even with this unending bout that feels like forever, my pain has boundaries and practical consequences and if not solutions, at least ways of maintaining myself and my life. Prayer seems so hopeless, like a declaration of giving up; which is funny considering how narcissistic it seems, having this idea that a cosmic being needs only your reminder to fix what ails you. I do have a sense of some greater, divine order to things. It's not so concrete as to call it a belief, but right now my faith and spirituality are much more concentrated on flowing through and beyond this thing. Migraines are on the list of things we silly humans haven't figured out yet, and until we do (hopefully but not expectedly in my lifetime), I have to make the most of this portion of my existence. I'll take my good hours and do things that make me feel happy and productive. I'll continue seeing doctors and witchdoctors alike. I'll try to take care of myself and my dog and the embers of my long-term ambitions as long as we three require tending. And hopefully, Spaghetti Monster willing, this will end.

Monday, November 26, 2007

thankfully home

Sunday I was feeling much better. My parents came and we went to brunch and I ordered a frittata containing spinach on purpose. We went grocery shopping and my mom tried putting things away in my kitchen because she doesn't like having things out or that I still have things in boxes. I prefer it that way for now because I only use the dishes I need and they don't pile up, plus having some of my food things on the counter makes it so I know what I have without having to dig through my deep cupboards. The eternal battle continues. We then tried to jump my car and failed, so my parents called their auto club and the guy came and got it going but said the starter was shot so we should get it to where it could stay until we had it towed and fixed. Since I am getting New Car as soon as I am physically capable of going and dealing with the license plates, we figured it made the most sense to drive my car back to my parents' house and I'd get the New Car Tuesdayish. Lots of driving and a chili cheese dog from Gold Coast Dogs later, I was dropped back at my apartment sans car.

Monday I woke up dead. Tuesday, too. Dead dead dead. Wednesday I still felt like crap but the original plan was that I would drive to my parents' Wednesday night to see my siblings (returning from LA and college in Iowa) and help with Thanksgiving prep. Instead, my mom picked up my corpse and my dog on the way back from getting my sister from the airport.

Wednesday night through yesterday is a blur of pain and my mom's leftover hydrocodone and noise and people and my brother's massage chair. For Thanksgiving itself I drugged the living hell out of myself (hydrocodone and Aleve at maximum doses) so I could be social and enjoy the food. I apparently did very well, though mostly I remember staring at my cousin-in-law's very shiny diamond rings (and I always thought the shiny stoner thing was a joke!) and rattling off things I was thankful for every time the general conversation got too far into the gutter. I think I was the only person to do the "I'm thankful for..." thing at all.

The best thing about all those days at my parents' house was how happy it made my dog. He got spoiled like crazy between my dad and my sister, and even my mom fed him bits of leftovers when she felt too bad staring at his "orphan eyes." He got to run around in the yard whenever he felt like it, and by day 3 didn't even try to wake me, going instead to scratch at my parents' door until someone came and let him out. He even started snuggling with my dad after over three years of my dad trying to win his affection.
My brother's massage chair was also excellent. I spent at least 3 hours in it over the four days, digging through my unbelievably tight shoulder and neck muscle knots. I really want to steal it from him, but he spent his bar mitzvah money on it, so that wouldn't be fair. My parents are talking about getting me my own, anyway, I just have to try out the different models to figure out which would be the most helpful.

I wish my parents' house didn't stress me out quite so much, because it would be an easy and obvious solution to Incapacitated Annabell. But it never gets completely quiet and the concerned looks on my parents faces tend to worry me more than my own afflictions, and not even a massage chair is better than good sleep in the dark and quiet. I feel bad for my dog, but otherwise it's good to be back in my own hole, listening to free audiobooks (LibriVox is awesome and brilliant and you should check it out) and working on things I can try to sell on etsy.com (my username is my real name equivalent to AnnabellJo, as in FirstnameMiddlename). This is my new life.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Me and my thick cortex

From BBC: Migraine Brains 'are different'
Dammit, head, can't you let me have some peace? Plus PMS. So much for salvaging my prose forms class. Piece of crap. Crap crap crap.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

dancing, eating, watching, listening, and knitting

The "Take Me Out Right Now" dance looks very similar to the "I want you to pay attention to me for the next 30 seconds and then I'm going back onto your bed" dance. Very annoying when I stop what I'm doing, thinking my dog is dancing the former, only to discover, no, it was the latter.

Last night around 9:30 PM I was craving Indian food like a crazy woman. Last night around 10:30 I paid $23 by check to the delivery guy for chicken korma and and order of naan. It took more research than it should have to find Indian Gourmet, which says right on its website that they are "Greater Chicagoland's only Indian restaurant that delivers." I wasn't thrilled with the apparent price-gouging or the fact that they didn't take credit cards (I had roughly $12 in cash in my apartment), but I needed my fix. Turns out, for $23, I will be able to eat for the rest of my life. It wasn't until my third rice and korma bowlful this afternoon that a dent finally appeared in the vats of food. And it's really good! I got the korma because the acupuncturist told me not to eat spicy foods, and with no butter chicken on the menu, it was the only dish that said "very mildly spicy." As a person who normally likes spicy food, this had enough flavor that I didn't miss the kick. The rice had whole bay leaves and some other whole herb that I recognize by taste and smell but still can't place. And the naan tastes like flat challah. All-in-all, it was the best $23 I've spent on food in a long time.

Since last night, I've watched three movies and listened to an hour and a half of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe via iPod audiobook. During those bits of audio-visual entertainment, I knitted an uneven pair fingerless gloves for myself. I have been coveting fingerless gloves ever since I first saw Birdie wearing great ones in some of her pictures of Facebook. I would have just bought myself a pair somewhere (they're not that expensive and I can excuse the purchase as functional), but my stupid wool allergy made it impossible to find any that were both comfortable and attractive. The ones I knit aren't great, but they will do and they don't clash with my nice coat.

I should do more audiobook listening while crafting. It's even better than TV or movies because I don't have to look up.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

colorblind taste test

If you don't give a shit about dogs in general or my dog or dog food in particular, just skip reading this post.

Towards the begnning of my Doggymamahood, I bought small bags of five different cheap to mid-priced dog foods. I put each in a bowl and set each of the five bowls down on my kitchen floor. My dog clearly went for the Beneful, so ever since then I got him Beneful.
Then we started going over to NBF's house, and my dog would eat NBF's dog's food like I'd been starving him at home. And there is always food in his bowl at home because he eats like a cat (whatever and whenever he feels like it, but he never eats that much). So I found out what NBF's dog was eating and we, too, began buying grocery store top-shelf Purina One Natural Blends Chicken and Oatmeal Formula.
Just a few weeks ago, when I was dying with the first terrible week of this fucking migraine, I made NBF drive me to Walgreens for my prescriptions, some Draino, and dog food. The only brand they had was Best Friends Gourmet Dog Food, so for a week my dog ate Best Friends Gourmet Dog Food.
Then my mom came out and took me grocery shopping. They only had a fairly small bag of the Purina One Natural Blends Chicken and Oatmeal, so my mom, looking to see if they had a big bag elsewhere, came across the Purina One Total Nutrition Chicken and Rice and said she'd found it. Even in the small bag the Total Nutrition was significantly cheaper, and my head wasn't working and my mom was trying to work out the math and logic and we ended up with one bag of the Natural Blends and one bag of Total Nutrition, the idea being that I'd see if my dog liked the regular anywhere near as much as the natural.
Tonight, I did the official taste test. Three equal-sized piles of each of the three foods (Best Friends Gourmet - Beef, Purina One Natural Blends Chicken and Oatmeal, and Purina One Total Nutrition Chicken and Rice) right next to each other so he couldn't just happen upon one first.
Not only did he eat all of the Total Nutrition first, he then picked through and ate out the few pieces of Total Nutrition that had gotten into the Natural Blends pile. Then he snubbed the other two piles completely and stared at me with that "Want more! Feed me!" face. I took another fistful of the Total Nutrition and mixed it in with the other two piles, and again he stared picking through the other two foods to find the pieces of the Total Nutrition. I think we have our new winner.

Shallower than I thought

If I was already fooling around with a guy and discovered he was wearing one of the brighter colors of these overpriced but truly fabulous Man Panties, he would totally get farther than I originally intended. In fact, Kelley Green or Gold would pretty much guarantee him my virginity.

I'm going to class very soon for the first time in three weeks! This is why I'm even loopier than usual.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

dizzy blondes, dead printers, and crafty websites

Happy Super Dizzy Day! No pain, but dear lord it is hard to get around when the room moves. And I didn't puke, but I thought I was going to puke on several occasions. Whether or not it is true, I am saying that this is my migraine's final tantrum on its way out. Post-migraine aura and crap. It's entirely possible, so please god let it be so!

I finally managed to kill my HP deskjet 3520 printer. It was four years old and originally cost $28. It moved three times, fell countless times, and printed many a paper and greeting card. It will be missed.

I just sorted a bunch of my crafting stuff from the mostly untouched (as in I've barely touched these particular boxes, not as in most of the boxes are still untouched) moving boxes. My inspiration: Etsy.com. I am in love with this website. (HDS, you'd best know about it already, because you will love it.) I want to buy everything for everyone from it and sell my random crafting crap on it. It has kept me occupied during the last week of conscious-but-dysfunctioning.

Here are some personal favorite items (because if you are reading my blog, you must be wasting time, and oh so much more time can be wasted on Etsy!):
Zombie Escape Plan Journal
overpriced but very attractive serving dish
cute turkey apron I want my mom to wear on Thanksgiving but I don't think she'll go for it
"Perfect Children" moderately disturbing stuffed animals
super-disturbing anatomical teapot
awesome color search page

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

boiled down conversation/fight with my mother

My mom: Right now, in regards to your migraines and your life, you should be doing A, B, and C.
Me: Why do you always assume you have to tell me what I should be doing and not that I'm already doing it?
Mom: Because you're not doing it.
Me: Yes I am.
Mom: Then why didn't you tell me you were doing it.
Me: Because I shouldn't always have to tell you that I'm doing it. The assumption should be that I am doing it.
Mom: But I need to hear it to believe it.
Me: So basically I need you to have faith in me and you need me to constantly tell you that your faith is deserved (never mind the better part of my 25 years having been spent proving it)?
Mom: Yes. Exactly.

And the moral of the story is: my mom thinking that I'm incompetent has nothing to do with my actual competence, but it definitely feeds into my own issues of failure. Yippee fucking skippee.

Sweet, Sweet Potato

I've been asleep for the last two days. Splendid. Maybe I'm weakened from two weeks of being dead. I don't know. Also, I am out of the Percocets and the head is less than comfortable (though not nearly as horrible as it's been). I need to get my ass to a doctor, which is much more difficult than it should be.

Whine whine whine.

My dog puked what looked like mashed sweet potatoes on my bed last night. I cleaned it up and went back to sleep.

I know three pregnant people right now, and they are all due in March. Strange. I've decided two of them should become internet BFFs, since they have some strange similarities anyway and I know if I'm ever preggers I will want other pregger people friends, which can be hard to come by if your regular people friends are not baby-making with you.

And I want a live-in chef and house cleaner, but I think I've mentioned that before.

Can I lie and say I'm stoned right now to excuse the random oddness of this post?

Monday, November 12, 2007

a weekend of fun and much-betterness

Birdie and her sister (Batty? jury's still out on codenaming her, but I think she might appreciate that one) came and went and fun was had despite Birdie's being throat diseased and me battling what I can only hope are the last little sputterings of this motherfuckingmigraine. Batty(?) brought me Percocets, which helped immensely. I guess regular codeine didn't do the trick but oxycodone is enough different/stronger to make a difference. I was out! I was free! I was me again! Yaaaaaay!
We ate soup at the Soup Box (I love that place and it made sense for Birdie) and then stopped by SUC's sushi restaurant but were too full of soup to eat there so he and Ex-Boss Lady joined us for drinks (Birdie and I didn't drink due to our respective ailments, but still) and I hadn't seen them in forever and I forgot how much I like SUC. Then NBF went to bed and we womenfolk went to see Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind (30 plays in 60 minutes), which I went to a bunch when I was 18 and hadn't since. It was very fun and good and they only made it through 27 3/4 of the plays. We went to the Museum of Contemporary Art and I'd forgotten to take my Effexor and then there were bright spirals and flashing lights and all my pre-migraine shit went crazy and I ended up hanging out in the park across the street where it was cool and quieter. Drugs (both illicit and licit) and a 45 minute nap fixed that before dinner. NBF turned 29 and my cousinses and Batty and NBF's high school friend and her husband joined us and we ate delicious Indian food. Then (sans-cousinses) we went to Green Mill for the last set of a group that would have been better without the flute. Then today was low-key and we took a delicious group nap and my car is inexplicably dead and I no longer have motor club (apparently the kick you out of your parents' account when you turn 25 and I just found that out in the last month and I haven't done anything about it yet) and my awesome last year's Hannukah present internal cigarette lighter jumper thing doesn't come pre-charged and I didn't know this until we opened it up and tried to use it. Moral of the story: Birdie and Batty had to take a cab to the airport because otherwise it takes a good hour and a half by public transportation and they didn't have time. Blech. I passed out again on NBF's bed while he worked on his paper, we ate leftover Indian food, and I waddled home after 5 and fell back asleep by 6. My dog, having not been out since around 10 this morning, woke me at midnight (I think he was entitled) and we walked up and down the block once and then I wrote this and now I go back to bed. I'm thinking/hoping tomorrow I will be able to go back to school, which will be super-fun trying to figure out what of the semester is still salvagable and exactly what I need to do to save it. Still, better than the migraine. Death to migraine. Love to Birdie. Back to sleeeeep now.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

a revised life plan

I'm spending the rest of my life stoned. At least until the migraine goes away. It makes things significantly more tolerable, particularly if I don't get as stoned as I did in that other post. Stoned to the point that best balances between incapacitated by pain and incapacitated by pot. Birdie is coming this weekend and I have to find some way to be capable of enjoying it, since I've been really really really looking forward to it and now I'm terrified I'll miss it completely, cooped up in my apartment/cave. Stoned it is.

acupunctuation

Yesterday, I had my acu punctured. I left feeling pretty good (although still with the pain hanging out behind my left eye) and felt like crap again by the time I got home.
The experience itself was very strange. When I arrived they offered me tea while I filled out their version of a medical history form. I chose a peppermint herbal (I think they were all herbal) and answered the standard doctor questions about my immediate family's medical history (did/does anyone have diabetes? hear disease? cancer?) plus some new ones (gout? insanity?) and some extremely personal questions about my bodily functions (how many days do your periods last? is the blood ever brown? dark purple? clumpy?)
My acupuncturist was this small (well, bigger than me, but small by normal standards) Chinese woman who was like a dense tight ball of energy on fast-forward. Her English wasn't great, but she explained to me that I have both an overall deficiency in qi but an overabundance of qi in some areas, and most of my problem areas are linked to my gall bladder. I need to eat a pound and a half of fruits and vegetables (she didn't specify how often and I didn't ask because odds are good I can maybe up my veggie intake to a pound and a half a month) and avoid spicy foods because my central energy fire is too hot and rising up and that's why I have all the pain in my neck and head. Right. I don't know about the whole energy fire thing, but it doesn't hurt to avoid spicy foods and see if that helps, since that's one thing I haven't tried diet-wise.*
As I've mentioned before, I hate needles. Hate hate hate. And it's not the pain, since a needle bothers me as much in someone else's skin as it does my own. It's the cutting of skin thing that generally wigs me out. But the acupuncturist didn't put any needles in my head ("not for first time, next time") and my glasses were off so I couldn't see it, and she also said "breathe in, breathe out" every time she poked me. The strangest part of the whole experience was when some of the needles hit, it felt like things were moving around in other parts of my body. A needle on my calf (I think it was my calf) had something crawling up the left side of my spine. And the one needle that hurt the most (the others were a pinch at the worst) had my migraine pain, which was at that point hanging out in a lump at the bottom of the back of my head, unmistakably float up to the top of my head, like it had been filled with helium. Unfortunately, it stayed at the top of my head instead of going the fuck away. My acupuncturist said that, for a life-long problem, it will take more than one session of acupuncture to fully realign my qi.
She also did "cupping," which is completely bizarre but actually feels good. Basically, she stuck a bunch of 2" diameter glass suction cup things on my back.
I left feeling better than I had in weeks (save my stoned hours), but still with the pain. So, (sorry E) $40, I now have more pot. I really don't enjoy the inhaling smoke part, but it makes the pain more bearable. I woke up this morning wondering if I could even make it to class, but by 10:30 AM I was back to walloped, and now I've got the damn vibrating neck thing back on and the lights back off and I'm bored and sick of sleeping through my life but it fucking hurts. And the last few days the pain has been more and more light-sensitive and behind my left eye. Maybe I'll start wearing an eyepatch. I'll dress like a pirate while I'm at it, just for kicks. I could use some kicks. In the head.

*I am much better at eliminating things I shouldn't do than adding things I should. Maybe my willpower-qi is lopsided, too.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Things I have tried

This is so that when you, my wonderful helpful reader, hear about some new miraculous wonderful migraine treatment, you will know in advance if I have already tried it.
  • Ear, nose and throat doctor (back when I didn't recognize the auras as migraine and thought I just had lots of "dizzy spells)
  • Dizzy test (again, back in the "dizzy spell" era)
  • MRI (to make sure there wasn't anything lodged in my brain...if you're nice to me I'll show you the creepy eyeball/brain picture that I got to keep)
  • Lots of time with the neurologist and his med student lackies at the Cleveland Clinic's headache clinic
  • Over-the-counter analgesics (Aspirin, Tylenol, etc.)
  • Anaprox (prescription-strength Aleve)
  • Triptans (Imitrix, Maxalt, Relpax)
  • Caffeine (my friend, my foe)
  • Codeine
  • Ergotamines (the DHE I had to inject into my tummy flab and the Migranal nasal spray that's $45 a dose)
  • Anticonvulsants (Depakote, which is a cousin of Topamax)
  • Antipsychotics (Seroquel, Zyprexa)
  • Antidepressants (Effexor XR)
  • Antinausea drug (Reglan)
  • Sketchy European muscle relaxants (left over from my nasty migraine bout in Vienna in 2002)
  • Botox injections in my neck (I think this was helpful, but my current insurance is crap and it's over $1000 and has to be repeated every few months and not many doctors do it)
  • Riboflavin (vitamin B2)
  • Feverfew (some other herbal thing)
  • Magnesium (more vitamin crap)
  • Beta blockers (Nadalol...very bad for me with my low blood pressure and natural tendency towards depression)
  • Allergy testing
  • Elimination diet (HDS may remember this one, as I tried to avoid all wheat products at camp and ate crappy rice bar things a lot)
  • yoga (ok, I went twice, but I didn't really like it)
  • Peace of Mind (Origins aromatherapy product I use a lot)
  • Head On (applied directly to the forehead, it's soothing but a weird consistency...I still use it occassionally)
  • Wellpatch Migraine (ooh, maybe I'll go put one of those on before bed)
  • Walgreens Ultra Strength Muscle Rub
  • marijuana (the most recent new "cure")
Tomorrow, I'm hoping to add "acupuncture" and/or other "oriental healing arts" to the list. In the next few months, we'll find out if chopping me open and poking my heart might be useful as well.

I may have left something off the list, but that should give you some idea.

separation anxiety

Thought on abortion:
Assuming your pregnancy goes to full term, that child will never consider you (the parent) to be a "real person;" why should you consider it a "real person" before it even escapes from the womb?

And for those of you who've been counting, this is Day 12 of the Migraine from Hell. It lapsed for a little while yesterday, and that was great, but it was back full force by dinner. I'm trying to use my more lucid moments to research a good local acupressurist. They can stab me all they want. Maybe sticking me at the ledge of a high cliff and slicing chunks of my skin will help, too. I'm game for anything.

I had to tell my mother again in no uncertain terms to leave me alone and I will let her know if I want or need her for anything. It is understandable that she sees her offspring in pain and wants to help, but she can't seem to internalize that when she leaves me two voicemails and a text message letting me know she's "available to help this afternoon or tomorrow after 4," that does not constitute leaving me alone and makes things worse because then I have to get back to her again to tell her, "No, thank you, leave me alone," and that is very stressful when my moments of lucidity are precious and I want to spend them distracting myself and trying to feel better, not assuring my mother that things will eventually be ok and she needs to just shut the fuck up and leave me alone.

Sunday, November 04, 2007

mediocre vibrations


I want a device that will massage my neck for me with minimal effort on my part. Why are all "massagers" really built as vibrators and consequently not particularly useful for my neck muscles? My neck is not shaped like a vagina, it is shaped like a neck. If I wanted a vibrator, I would buy a vibrator. I ended up getting this thing for $20 at Target, and it's ok, but not great. I want something that will kneed my neck and shoulder muscles. A boyfriend would also work, but those are even harder to come by and require a bit more maintenance.

And to the anonymous suggestion that I try acupuncture: I absolutely hate needles, but I'm getting to the point where I'd be willing to try it. Particularly if this latest trend of feeling better doesn't continue, they can stab me with knives for all I care.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

Rxxx

Last night, still in pain, I took the full dose of Seroquel*, which I normally avoid because it makes me so groggy, but I figured I was going to bed so it didn't matter and maybe I'd sleep through the night. Dog woke me before 7 AM needing to go out, so I managed to take him out and then took the next dose of the Seroquel. Dog woke me again around 2 or 3 needing to go back out, so out we went very quickly and then I ate things and went back to sleep. I had terrible dreams about people sabotaging the CTA el trains and knocking them off the tracks and pushing them off over the highway and stuff. Then the dog managed to wake me up again a little before 10 PM and I could barely get my body to move but we went out and I discovered NBF had been trying to reach me all day (I guess I talked to him briefly a few times so he knew I wasn't dead but was very much asleep...any of you who have talked to Sleeping Annabell knows what this is like) and I'm still all groggy but I have the sense the migraine is finally fighting for its life so I took another dose of Seroquel and we'll see how and when I wake up next.

*Regularly prescribed for bipolar and schizophrenia, but for those you start with a 25 mg dose twice a day and gradually build up, taking it regularly, whereas Dr. Migraine has me taking a 50 mg dose, followed any time after 2 hours later by another 50 mg dose, and stopping as soon as the headache quits. For those of you concerned by my marijuana trial, that seems much safer to me than the Seroquel, but I'm thinking it may be time for a back-alley labotomy, which would make any and all prior brain damage pretty much moot.

Friday, November 02, 2007

no silver (or green) bullets

Nope. Extremely disappointed to announce, marijuana is NOT the cure for my migraines. The migraine came back, and there were a few hours today that I couldn't tell if I was still unable to think because of the pot or because of the migraine. Losing each thought as soon as I have it seems to be a symptom of both having a migraine and being stoned.

So my next brilliant idea was to go get a massage. My mother and brother have both gone to physical therapy at this Chicago chain and my mom had mentioned before that they do therapeutic massage, so I went for a therapeutic massage. The guy was kind of odd and very high-strung for a massage therapist, but he was good at the massage part. He didn't get rid of the muscle knots or the migraine, but he loosened things and the migraine was not an issue so long as I was laying in the dark silence being worked on. I just need a full-time live-in masseuse, or maybe to go back (or elsewhere) in a few days and tell them to just get rid of the fucking knots. I don't know. I'm out of ideas again. And I'm bored and lonely, because I can't do anything.

My mom called me this afternoon to see how I was doing and started in on "you should call your doctor and see if you can get in right away" and I snapped at her because it's pretty fucking clear to me at this point that modern medicine hasn't figured migraines out yet and I've tried pretty much everything there is to try and I'm even subjecting myself to guinea pighood and the last thing I want to hear right now is what else I "should" be doing, particularly from a person who is neither an expert nor experiencing it herself, and worst of all is my mother. She was on IM later so I apologized for snapping at her and she actually said (without sarcasm) "Sorry I tried to help! I know I should just tell you I love you and hang up." So I guess she understands and is learning, and that is good.

Remembering and communicating every detail of my life seems to be my main compulsion and driving force. I realized this while stoned. The fact that I couldn't express what I was thinking verbally or in writing was making me nuts. Also, I became aware of my constant judging and rejudging of every thought I have for accuracy, allowability, and admitability. It's pretty crazy and exhausting. I imagine not everyone's brain works this way, and I wonder if I can learn to quiet mine down. Obvious solution: drown myself in marijuana. Obvi.
THE POINT IS IT WORKS/WORKED/IS WORKING!!! Found something that works. We'll have to see about longer term on the specific migraine, and we'll see how I feel tomorrow.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

I've finally found something that (at least temporarily) takes the edge off the pain!!! And while illegal, it's way easier and cheaper to get than any of my prescriptions! I had NBF get me some pot (see, I wasn't kidding last post) and apparently he owns a bowl, so I smoked all but two hits of the pot (very little...a bowlful, really) and now I'm finding it incresingly difficult to type...the typing's not that hard, actually, it's the editing and following what I'm typing that is giving me a lot of difficulty. Ok, so the real trouble seems to be with concentrating on the words. Also, I apparently go back and re-read the last bit of what I said over and over in my head until I know the next thing I am going to write, and if I don't like how it sounds I go back and delete it. Then I start typing the next thought while I'm reading it all "out loud" in my head (my whole hearing-versus-seeing thought process thing). Ok, now I'm stoned. Stoned seems to be the opposite of migraine: with stoned, I mainly notice it when I'm trying to concentrate on something and can't, but with migraine I notice most when I don't have something to distract me. Stoned is certainly distracting. I completely can't write what and how I'm thinking, at least not on computer. I'll hate to try by hand now. Yeesh, I'm going to see this tomorrow and be very annoyed with myself for writing like a fucking stoner when I'm such a square
nerd
ok can't keep thought in head long enough to complete sentences. Weird. I'm such a nerd. But I can only et down my thoughts if I type really fast and don't go back and look at what I've just written or try to think about it too much because as soon as my brain pauses I get lost and I can't go back and find it because as soon as I do I forget where I was and I can't get throught the whole sentence in a stretch to remember what I was trying to say the minute I go back and edit I'm repeating I know I'm repeatinmg can't type fast enough to keep up with brain but I know it's the typing that's all slow, not the brain that's any faster than usual. But it doesn't hurt! THat's all I've been trying to say but aparently I can't write when I'm stoned. How many times did I type that already? I'd go back and check, but I will then lose where I am now and I'll never get anywhere. I am such a nerd for writing this, such a nerd for thinking it, and such a nerd because I'm having so much trouble. Holy hell. Weird weird weird. I absolutely can't get down what I'm thinking into writing. I can't write. The thing that knocks out my migraine is the thing that knocks out what makes me most fundamentally me. That 70s show stoner "duuuuude" deep moment man. Aaaak! I'm done trying to write this. It's more frustrating (though not in that usual painful nagging way)
I can't deal with multiple clauses.
or my normal repetition thing
because I forget what the repetition was
before repeating it
ok but not that time
but mostly
why did I never try to write stoned before?
I always write when I'm drunk.
Sober, too, but that's the whole writer thing again.
Stoner writing.
I could write the way I write when I'm doing first-person-my-dog:
word
writing word
typing
I can type on page.
I have to rememberwhat I'm doing
bad last sentence.
because it didn't sound like dog.
Neither did that.
It just sounds like stooooopid.

Wasn't I going to stop typing this?
Yes.
Yes I was.
Hey! I asked a question AND answered it and then wrote a reaction to it! New record for length of thought!
Does that mean it's already wearing off?
Nah.
Ok, really now, Annabell (remembered my code-name, too!) stop writing. Stop. Writing. Right/write. Now.
Will somebody please bring me some pot? The Migranal isn't working and I'm out of options. While I've never been a big fan of The Marajuana, there's a chance it will do the trick, or at least make this more tolerable.
Humming humming wall is humming. Pipes? Wind? Water? Hum hum hum. Ho hum ho hum my head is dead ho hum. Too many days. Class gets dropped. I liked that class, but drop drop drop it goes, where it stops, nobody knows. Can't think. Can't read. Can't even play silly phone games. Too lost. Brain too lost. Ouchy ouchy ouch ouch ouch. Mind lost. Brain lost. Stick me in a cave somewhere. Quiet temperate cave. Drill holes in my head, fix holes in my heart, whatever, I don't care anymore. Chop me up and put me back together again so I can be a real person again all of the time, not just most of the time, because some of the time this shit sucks.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

My dog, too, is a victim of my migraines. He doesn’t understand, crawls into bed with me and curls into the small of my back. As I stir he perches on my pillow, puts a possessive paw on my shoulder, rests his chin on my forehead. He whines with me, not at me, doesn’t try to play, only insists on going out when he really needs to.
I wake up and it’s dark, it’s light, it’s somewhere in between and I don’t know if the sun is on its way in or out. It’s Wednesday, it’s Friday, it’s Tuesday. I’ve tried to keep track, but the days get tangled in my dreams. I’m back at College #1, in high school, or facing my elementary school tormentors. I have to go to gym to graduate, take a history test I didn’t study for, learn advanced calculus in time for the final. The migraine weaves its way into my subconscious’s story lines, and it becomes the cause or effect in each of my stress dreams. I’m driving down a highway and my auras get so bad I hallucinate or pass out and crash. I dream that I can’t wake up and I know it’s true. Even the pain itself sneaks into my dreams and my dream-self has to lay down to cope.
But the sleep is better than the awake. When the migraine won’t listen to drugs, sleep is the only thing that can kill it at last. And awake is boring. I can only read for 20, maybe 30 minutes at a time, and even then my comprehension is fuzzy. The computer gets an even shorter stretch because it is too bright. TV is out of the question. My mom calls me and her voice and worry pierce through me; she means so well, but it’s all about her and I have to fight for my independence enough on my functional days that I just can’t handle her from under the covers. I call friends but they are out living their lives and I feel so alone in the dark I cry but that makes it hurt more and my dog whines along with me as we curl up and go back to sleep and pray maybe next time I’ll wake up ok again.

Monday, October 29, 2007

documentation to stave off surrender

5 AM, headache woke me up with a new stabbing behind the eyes and eyebrows strength. Was it something I ate? My mom took me to the grocery store (she was very well-behaved...either I underestimate her or I was snippy and direct enough that it shut her up or maybe some combination of the two) and I ate a few pieces of fried chicken, a fistful of KitKats (thinking the chocolate might be a good quantity of caffeine to take the edge off without rebounding me or making me as jittery as the coffee had), and washed it down with an organic blood organic blood orange Italian soda. Was one of these a trigger? Or was it the added stress and noise and light of shopping itself? Or has it been long enough that this pain surge is unrelated> Could it even be the last kickings of the migraine? God I hope so. At an rate, I took three Aleve (I'd stopped those after the first day to make sure they weren't rebounding me) and a half-dose of the Seroquel (which I hate because it makes me all woozy and weird, but maybe a half-dose will be better and actually chop through this thing) and I'm going back to bed. I should have been documenting all of this crap (my food, my pills, my pain levels) since the beginning of this stupid thing, but how was I to know it would go on for so long? Until yesterday, I've assumed every day would most likely be the last. Now it's taking on this endless, remedyless quality and I feel like all I can do is document what I'm doing and keep changing it up and trying and re-trying everything until something works. I've been drinking a ton of water but still thirsty all the time, whatever that means, and I've lost three pounds this week, but this is not the way I want to lose weight, since it is completely unhealthy and scary and uncontrolled. If I'm still too bad to go to school tomorrow, I'll try to get a therapeutic massage appointment at Athletico. Then the DHE should be in at Walgreens, and while that may help a lot short-term, I stopped keeping it in the house because I'd gotten so addicted it became useless. In Cleveland, this would be when I'd go to the hospital clinic and get on an IV of the DHE, but dammit, I thought I'd left Cleveland in Cleveland. I haven't been this bad since. No easy answers. No silver bullets. Maybe the study will chop me open and fix things, but there have been so many "have you tried?"s and "maybe this will"s that I've finally learned, the medicine is still too far behind the cure, so I'm stuck depending on my generation's equivalent to Castor oil and witch hazel. Maybe if the DHE and massage don't help, I'll start sleeping with garlic around my neck.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

One of the most frustrating things about my migraines is losing my independence. I need to go to the grocery store right now but I really can't drive myself and NBF is "busy" with his stupid crap and my mom is driving by not that far from my apartment soon so I broke down and asked her to come pick me up, take me to the grocery store, and bring me home again. But when I've had to fight so hard over the years to prove myself independent and capable to her, it makes having to ask her for help feel like defeat instead of just an inconvenience. Hopefully I'm making all that as clear as humanly possible, but it's been a long battle and I'm in too much physical pain and too drained to deal with it right now. It hurts and I'm sick of it and I'm hungry and nauseous and crying and making myself worse and explaining and rationalizing to my mother should NOT be on my list of burdens right now. I miss my friends from College Attempt #1 who were always so wonderful and helpful during my migraines. I need more people nearby who love me and understand and know how to help without stressing me out more. Stupid space-time thing. Stupid migraines. Stupid everything.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

car, migraine, yap yap yap

Still in a migraine stupor. I hate this. I was going to try out for Wheel of Fortune today, but there's no way I'm going anywhere loud and crowded or acting excited about anything.

However, thing that I am excited about, even if I'm incapable of expressing it at the moment: apparently, my parents are buying me a new (well, new to me) car! I love my old Camry and thought I'd drive it until the day it died, but they called to say they came across a really good deal on a 2003 Saab somethingorother and would I like it? I'm a bit sad to say goodbye to my Camry, since that's the car that went to Key West and back in a weekend, and it's been good to me, but I know with 130,000 miles and 12 years under its belt, it's getting ready to die. And I have a sense it's going to need new breaks again soon, too, since they're starting to sound/feel funny. So new car! That's like winning on Wheel of Fortune without ever playing the game. I still would have liked to play the game...

What the hell am I talking about? The weirdest part of a migraine is how drunk/stoned I feel, like thoughts don't stay in my brain for more than about two seconds, and normal emotional reactions just don't exist. Like, I know I'm excited about new car, but I'm not feeling properly excited about it. Like, this is big fat exciting! A Saab! I really like Saabs. But I'm too numb right now to really feel it. Almost in that depression way, but without the sadness or hopelessness...or even that feeling of numb. This is more the way I don't feel things in my third arm because I don't have a third arm. I am not missing a third arm, I just don't have one.

Yeesh. The logic of Full Blown Migraine Day 3 is very odd. It doesn't help I keep getting distracted by things in my peripheral vision that aren't really moving but randomly take my attention, anyway. I wanted to write about how weird it is that my parents now have all this money. Again, not that I'm complaining. If anything, it's perfect when in my life they went from getting by to comfortable to "want a new car?" Because I grew up not spoiled but not needy. When I got too big for my clothes, we could afford to go get new clothes, but I didn't get a whole new wardrobe every season or shop at boutiques and department stores. If I wanted a new toy, it went on my Hanukah or birthday list, and big-ticket items (a new bike or a boom-box) meant that was pretty much it from my parents for the holiday. Totally comfortable, totally reasonable. But I guess what my dad is/does is pretty unique and now he's all high on the corporate ladder and I get calls like "Do you want a new car?"

Think they can buy me a new brain?

I hope this makes sense.

Something smells funny and I can't tell if it's real or in my head or some combination.

Anybody (HDS, I'm looking at you) know a shit-ton about C. S. Lewis? I have a presentation on Thursday.

Blah blah blah blah. This is a clear case of "those who speak do not know," or at least "the less my brain is functioning, the more I write."

Friday, October 26, 2007

Sound familiar?

From the New York Times

So your friend/family member/loved one has a migraine: a surprisingly simple guide

  • Step 1: Shut the fuck up
  • Step 2: Get the fuck out of the way

If you are particularly inclined towards helpfulness, the following are nice things to do, but should NEVER interfere with your shutting up or staying out of the way. Not even to let the migraine sufferer know you have done them. And don't expect visible gratitude, since that may be beyond the migraine sufferer's current capacity. Think: sacrifices to an angry volcano.

  • 1) Feed/walk the pets/children. Otherwise, it just won’t happen.
  • 2) Make sure easily digestible food is available. Do not ask if the afflicted is hungry, because that is a stupid fucking question. Migraines tend to kill appetite and frequently come with nausea. When the migraine sufferer’s hunger is greater than his/her general discomfort, s/he will emerge on his/her own. Think: hibernating grizzly bear. During these moments of necessary eating, rice cakes and chicken (heavy on rosemary, light on garlic, onion, or anything else with an unpleasant aftertaste) are good.
  • 3) Refill empty prescriptions. Even the ones from your ex-roommates’ oral surgery. After 17 hours in a half-awake pained stupor, three expired Vicodin can really hit the spot.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

killmaimdestroymiseryouchyouchyouchystupideffingheadouchydeathdarkpainouch

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

dislikes

I hate mushrooms.

The cute boy from my wellness class Facebook-friended me, which was very exciting until I read his profile. Apparently, he doesn't like books or vaginas. Sigh.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Bruuuuuuuuce!

Went to the Springsteen concert with my dad (birthday present from me) tonight. The band was great and energetic. It was loud and it was fun, and in the bathroom I overheard "He's still really good-looking!" The only black people there (besides Clarence Clemons) were working for the United Center, and "Wrigley Field!" got a bigger cheer than "The Bill of Rights!" during the requisite between song audience pandering. When did all the baby boomers go bust? My generation had nothing to stand for or rebel against, but come on, 50-somethings! You used to dance and scream! Now you're relieved at a single encore because it's late and you have work in the morning. I'm disappointed in you. The band had tons of energy and played a great show, and my dad was very happy, so I will call the night a success anyway.

My writing brain is dead. Too much writing for school stuff. Can't make blog sound like I want it to sound. Blaaaaaah.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

powerless

The power went out in my apartment and for a good number of blocks around my apartment. Fortunately, power is on at NBF's, so I am there now trying to get work done while his dog eats my face.

like burning

I'm interviewing Important Family Guy Person on Monday for my freelance class. He's being great about it, and the interview itself should not be hard. Thing that is hard: rigging my tape recorder to record a conversation on my cell phone. The thing that connects the recorder to the phone was $25 and only available at Radio Shack, and now it turns out I need another piece to connect it to my phone because my phone doesn't have a normal headset plug thing. That's another $20. I feel like if I had basic magical powers, none of this would be a problem. I would also like very much to be able to instantly teleport places, because my hour commute to school is getting annoying, even if I'm only doing it three days a week.
Other reasons to teleport:
  • trying to find a "good" shoe store for NBF today and driving all over creation looking for one
  • friends living in other time zones
A few weeks ago in my wellness class my teacher brought in this thing to measure our body fat percentages so we could calculate our body's needed caloric intake. I'm 30% body fat. That's the cutoff between average and overweight. Fuck. I'm fat. I'm still trying to get my mom's old Nordic Track up and running, since one of the pins doesn't fit where I need it to go so the cushiony things aren't up too high, and when I used it anyway, it tried to kill me by sending my flying. I also bought a scale that measures my body fat and hydration levels for under $9 at Target. I think the price was a mistake, since it was the only one of its kind and the models with fewer features cost more and the comparable scales were in the $25-$45 range. I win. Now I can obsess about my weight fat percentage at home! I'm 109 lbs. I don't want to go back to my scary 90 lb days, but something a bit healthier would be nice. Particularly if I can keep my boobs. Hear that, body? Less fat, same boobs. Deal.

Ooh, why is there a firetruck outside my apartment? Yoohoo! Firemen!
I'm starting the Firemen Appreciation Society. We will wear white flowing chemises and robes and hang out windows until firemen "rescue" us, and then we will "appreciate" them. Who's with me?
 

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