Sunday, January 31, 2010

Couch Party

Earlier today I gave myself my ketorolac tromethamine shot, walked the dog, and fell asleep on the couch before I took off my coat. When I woke up from the nap, I still had the headache. I went to the Walgreens drive-thru and forced myself through a quick shopping trip at my little local grocery store. I needed rice milk but there was no way I could deal with Dominicks (now owned by Safeway), so I still have no rice milk. It is amazing what I can do, when necessary, with migraine. It's also amazing how hard some things can be. The mess builds and builds, and at this point I'm still assuming I'll feel better in another day or so, and then I can clear away the rubble. Now, the logic and organization receptors are frustratingly haywire and as long as I'm not back in permanent status migraine mode, it's not worth trying to think in the way that hurts most.

When I came home from my errands, my dog was in my nap spot on the couch. I've since reclaimed the space, forcing him to build himself a little fort out of the cushions. First he had to "dig" the cushions, then my sofa's slip cover provided him a more fruitful excavation. We stayed through sunset, watching Hulu. I ate half a papaya, three bananas, and a generously buttered sweet potato. I knit. I finished the entire season of Lie to Me and a good bit of the scarf I'm knitting. My dog farted a lot.

At least I don't feel bitter or ashamed of my day. Maybe the pain is too wide to fit my standard self-doubt, but I feel like I got today "right." I pushed on the things that required pushing and let go everywhere else. Aural Girl and Possible Boy are wonderful and amazing when I'm migrainey. They say nice things and mean them and care and are concerned in a way that isn't more about themselves (cough, my mother, cough cough). They went to see the NBA game in Milwaukee, and I just got a text from Possible Boy that says "having a blast, wish you were here with us!" and at this particular moment I am very glad I am not with them because they are somewhere with noise and motion and people and things that would make me curl up into a little ball and cry. People confined to wheelchairs don't generally get to climb through ancient ruins or Escher lithographs; I may not be able to plan attendance at indoor sporting events, concerts, or the entire city of Las Vegas. I'm so used to having it all, it's not a bad life to have it most.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

In a perfect world...

Dear doctors,
When Walgreens calls you to refill a prescription, call them back. Due to insurance, I can  only refill my prescriptions a week in advance. That should be plenty of time to authorize additional refills. It's a huge part of what you do.

Dear Walgreens,
If the doctor doesn't call back, please try calling again. Please. I am at home not knowing if or how much you have hounded them. I don't know if they've already called it back in and you just haven't completed the prescription. You claim to do all of this so I don't have to. Great. Then please do.

There is a reason I am on so many medications, and when that reason coincides with those medications not getting refilled, it sucks a lot. I'm having enough trouble walking the dog and feeding myself at semi-regular intervals. It would be great if I didn't need to chase down doctors on the weekend when I've run out of my emergency supply because only one of my five refills are ready for pick-up and I submitted it all on Monday.

In large amounts of pain and this is not helping,
Annabell

Friday, January 29, 2010

Too cold and uncomfortable to do anything. Must watch Bones. David Boreanaz is hot.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Addendum

Weird exploded into ouchy head. Anybody surprised?

Expanding

Feeling really weird today...indecisive,  too. Go to the auction as a proactive move and hope to find something I can turn around for a larger profit or stay home and do the million things I want to get done here?
It's good that  I'm back to doing things and feeling  like I can do things, but I've also welcomed back that unnecessary anxiety that every minute I'm wasting and there's a world of ToDos hovering above. Sort and clean and list and sell go go GO! That's the life I'm trying to step away from. I'm not saying I want to sit around doing nothing all day. I'm trying to see things to do as things that give my life more dimension. Maybe that's the real key--make my daily choices based on some guess as to what will bring the most dimension (which is different from happiness) to my life, knowing full well that each choice is a guess, that I can only measure in relation to myself, and that that's still a worthwhile measure to make.

An undiscussed side effect of migraine: too much time to think.

In other news, I could sure use a fuck-buddy right now. I need something extremely hot and physical and emotionally uncomplicated. I'm going through my head all the Boys who have expressed interest like a closet full of clothes with nothing to wear. It's all a nasty little hornets nest of me making excuses not to go to the ball because I'm afraid my admirers won't want to dance with me and if they do I'll freak out and spend the rest of the night hiding in the powder room. But aside from all that, fuck buddy. Want one. Now.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Obedient


My dog and went to an almost two hour evaluative session at a trainer today. Is this the way I want to train him? While there, I was very well trained to think it was the answer, but I'm very susceptible. Going straight from the dog trainer to my parents' house, I still had the confidence mask on from dog training and when my dad tried to intervene (well intended but all the usual gobbldy gook); I gave him the verbal "NO" I normally reserve for my dog. I spent the rest of the night correcting my father's dog-spoiling behavior. Having the self-training fresh in my mind also helped  me with my own therapy work, since the emotional fence was up and what it lacked in strength it made up for in height. My parents still pried into everything I tried to leave outside their knowledge base, but like my dog, I made some awkward but progressive steps in keeping things outside their knowledge base. They really don't accept the "I don't want to talk about it/tell  you" cues that work for most of humanity. My mother always says strangers tell her their life stories for no apparent reason. Her prying, nudging gestures amid a pronounced and purposeful silence might have something to do with it. I like extracting people's stories, too, but it's good to remember/know that it's not always because people are so desperate to talk or tell us--we egg  them on, consciously or not.

Another fun moment with the parents: my mom told a story about something that happened in the past few weeks. My dad jumped in to say the exact opposite happened. My mother remembered an extremely different course of events. I'm sure my father was right because, I'm finally fully aware, my mom doesn't always remember reality. Years and years and years of assuming I was the crazy one! I may have some of the crazy too, but I don't trust perception to be anything more than perception. The other day I was using the analogy of colorblindness, and it's funny because my mom knows she's terrible at color and yet she still argues and insists she's right in any color-based decision.

So me, coming back from being strong and dominant all night, instead of being energized or encouraged, I can't fight this sinking discomfort, that (at least the extreme version of the dog part) is too much. It's the black-and-white shit again. I'm never supposed to pet him unless he "earns" it. When my dog bit a person, I should have "beaten the shit out of him." My dog was beaten enough already, thank you. The other dogs at this place just sat there perfectly until told to move to another spot. Can I have a dog who won't bite my friends without having to make him sit on nails?

We have a choke collar and strict instructions. My strict will never be the trainer's snapped German instructions (odd language choice with no accent and mostly Polish coworkers), but I'm starting to think I want to check out a few other local trainers...I'm naturally resistant to some of the harshness necessary to train my dog, but there may be more bugging me about this guy than just that.
Last night I was drunk.
Today I am cranky.
I need to sit in a steam bath of magical herbs and clense my aura.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Floating Head, Frozen Heart

Today I am woozy. All day. At one point I was sitting in bed on the computer and a piece of paper in my peripheral vision moved and floated of its own volition. I turned to look at the paper and it was still kind of floating in a halo. Then everything looked floaty.
Not. Fucking. Cool.
Cool if you're dropping acid or smoking pot or doing some other purposeful thing to alter your perception of reality. Cool if you get to brag about it later to your friends. Significantly less cool when you immediately start to wonder if you somehow messed up your very legal doctor prescribed medications, if there was something you had eaten or hadn't eaten (the latter of the two being my most common culprit, though probably not today). Finally, Cool curls up into a little ball and whimpers in anguish when you start figuring out where you are in your completely fucked up menstrual cycle. Ah yes, sorry Cool, but I think it doesn't matter how many pills I shove down my throat, my body goes crazy every time it remembers it's female.

Last night was more general evidence of my biologic sex.
I've been in general targetless boy-craving mode all week. For the first time since, well, "band camp," I have this collection of boys who want me. I'm trying to convince myself to want some of them back without them feeling like consolation prizes.
One came home with me last night.
He ate cornflakes
We talked, and the whole conversation was just a huge reminder of why I'm so averse to really dating him. His answer for everything is "Well, just do it." Everything is black and white, and most of it is black. He truly is what hipsters aspire to be. It's not necessarily a bad thing and there's a lot more to him than just that, but I am a writer. Equivocation is a lifestyle for me. He thinks I should just stop. He thinks that's an answer. Well, it's an answer, but once again, there are an infinite number of answers and who's to say what's right? Does it make me happy? I don't know. Is it supposed to? It's where I am right now and may not be forever but it is how I make sense of the world. I'm not satisfied with "yes" and "no."
"Yes" and "no" may never enter the playing field with this boy since the closest thing he did to making a move was pull me into an awkward hug. I wasn't helping or encouraging. I'd eaten a huge late dinner and my stomach was not happy and then he was declaring the world a shallow awful place. Maybe next time I'll put post-it notes up to remind myself to use boys for general life experience. I'm already being not nice by being vague and waffly, if I start actively using boys then they at least get something out of it.

Friday, January 22, 2010

For the Love of Dog

The personality traits that make someone a good leader are not the same traits that make someone want to lead.
I made it to my first condo board meeting. Tonight they were going to discuss rules and regulations, and based on previous interactions with my neighbors, I felt it was important I be there to at least voice concern over excessively stringent or intrusive rule-making. I turned out to be the only one there who wasn't a board member and no huge decisions were made, but a discussion on satellite dishes made me glad I came. One board member wanted to completely outlaw satellite dishes as they are an eyesore and can be destructive to common structural elements to the building. If the dish is going to drill into the roof and cause leaks for everybody, that's a totally understandable concern. But completely banning all dishes because they "look like a trailer park" is excessive.
"They effect everybody's property values."
I didn't say it out loud but shouted in my head, "So do black people. Should we ban them, too?"
I love the Rogers Park that exists at my bar and at the beach and in my head. It's the version of this neighborhood in which everybody is a little bit quirky and has actual friends from at least three different continents, four different decades, and not more than two el stops away. Too many people in my building invested hoping to help gentrify the neighborhood and turn their condos around. Monetarily, I would do well for that to happen, but for my own personal selfish reasons I hope my happy little alcove of utopia stays eclectic and gritty until I'm ready to move on. For non-personal selfish reasons, I hope Rogers Park can maintain its multifaceted complexion for a long time. The city needs places that are neither dangerous nor bleached-out gentrification yuppievilles.

I went to the dog spa place by my house today to get my dog's nails trimmed and see if they had any good private dog trainer recommendations. My dog was extremely well-behaved for the trimming and they had a 50% off coupon for the trainer they normally recommend. Jackpot. Except the trainer is in North Plainfield. Don't be fooled by the name of this suburb, there is nothing north about it. It is near Joliet and all its ass-faraway-southliness. They do in-home training (what my dog needs, considering his worst behavior is in the home when strangers come over), but their website didn't give concrete pricing so we'll see how expensive they are even with 50% off. I found a few others on Yelp that sound good and are closer and have real listed prices. Time for puppy to stop scaring people.
Coincidentally, after I'd gotten the trainer coupon earlier today, the condo board president informed me that my upstairs neighbors (who I never see) had expressed concern that my dog might be dangerous. I should have just left it at "We're signing up for private lessons," but I took it unnecessarily personally that my neighbors didn't come talk to me themselves, so I said all sorts of extra dumb crap that made things worse. The condo board president keeps his dogs in a cage all day so they won't mess up the house. I don't know what I thought I would gain by talking. It's just hard for me. My dog isn't a thing. He means the world to me. He is also very, very difficult. I'm not going to let him attack your baby. I might let him take a little nibble out of Possible Boy's leg, but both my dog and Possible Boy are up to date on their shots.
I tried going to bed once tonight. My dog puked a huge quantity of gross on my fitted sheet and one of my sweaters. He's not usually a pukey dog. I cleaned it up and changed the sheets and felt restless and bothered by my deep and profound love for this creature no one else seems to find lovable.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Easy As

If you are male and significantly older than me, can I please talk to you because you are interesting and not because I want to sleep with you?

I've been updating my work-related blogs and listing things for sale on my website fairly consistently the past several days. Today I took a gazillion pictures and only got one thing up into the Internetosphere and felt like I'd let myself down in my new "do one of each of these things every day" plan. But I get lots of gold stars today. I did a lot of work stuff until my body informed me that I had to be asleep. Then there was absolutely no question I needed to be asleep, so I went and took a 2+ hour nap that I didn't feel ad about taking because I wasn't being lazy. Then when Possible Boy invited me to dinner (he cooked! he's learning to cook and this may be the first time he's ever made food by himself for another person to eat, and it was quite good, not just for a first attempt) I didn't leave the house until I put up the one worky bloggy thing that matters most if it isn't daily. Social happy fun time later, I came home and made caramel corn (my air popper is back in my life and reminding me how wonderful chompy snacky popcorn can be) and edited some photos so tomorrow I can list early and easily before I have to go to therapy and chase down my as yet unfinished car.
Increased productivity and self-assurance, brought to you by amitriptyline. One more little green pill before bed and POOF! You can stretch just far enough to grab the world by the testicles.

My brother heads back to school tomorrow, so Sunday night he came over to hang out. Getting him up here was a little like convincing a dog to go to the vet, but we finally had our plans for him to drive up after the Sunday football games for dinner and quality sibling bonding time. Then my parents called to invite themselves because I haven't seen them in weeks. Fine. No time with just the brother, but the parents are much easier when he's around. Well, Sunday morning I get a text from my brother that made it sound like he wasn't thrilled with my parents' self-invitation either, so I called them and asked if they would be terribly hurt if I saw them a different time. I know my mother really likes it when my siblings and I want to spend time with one another (her mother is queen of pitting people against eachother and it's taken my mom 50+ years to start valuing her own brothers and sister), so of course it was fine and hopefully she'd see me soon but not Sunday.
I'm trying to set my boundaries with my parents, but I'm not sure where those boundaries need to be. They own me financially and they're not evil entities I want completely stricken from my life, but I'm going to have to find and define and refind and redefine that middle ground over and over. It's easier to make caramel corn.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Effexor withdrawal is the worst thing in the universe, genocide be damned.

Prozac withdrawal seems to be not so much terrible as floaty fluffy weird.

Why am I going through Prozac withdrawal? Because after my pharmacy spent 6 days calling my psychiatrist for an authorization on the refill and I blew through my three day emergency supply, and then called my dear darling shrink myself on a Friday evening, hoping to inspire some sense of urgency, it wasn't until 10 PM that he finally sent me a text message saying no more or less than "Prozac called in." The pharmacy at my Walgreens closes at 10. It opens tomorrow morning at 9. I went online to check me account, and they still have the thing "pending physician approval," but if I'm the first thing they see when they open, maybe I can be drugged and not insane early enough for some quality estate saleage.

The end.

Dammit dog, walk yourself.
Ok, fine. It's a damn good thing you're cute.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Relatively Sane

Sometimes it's satisfying to move a huge pile of boxes from one end of the room to the other, or paint all the white roses red, or do some other completely inane task that keeps you occupied and leaves you with some form of proof that it's been done. I never gave "busy work" enough credit. Today, I was busy all day. I was working on my Etsy shop and researching things and tidying up select portions of my house. None of it will cure world hunger or pay my bills, but it was definitely something, and it felt good. It's ok for it to feel good. My parents' version of the world, where any business-type venture is only valid and worthwhile if it's going to sustain you and your great grandchildren, is insane. It's bullshit and it's insane and I should laugh at them for being crazy. But when you're raised by crazy, the whole world becomes relative and possible and it's never quite safe to laugh at anything but yourself.

Now, I'm off to do something crazy: going with Aural Girl to see a friend of mine from Arts Camp 13 years ago at his random restaurant gig in Irving Park. Why not?
Too sleepy. Finally did stuff today. More of the same stuff that doesn't matter in the great cosmic scheme of things but matters in my little self-made universe. Dishwasher fixed. Spent my time doing things that hypothetically lead me towards an ultimate goal of creation, stability, and a place in the grown-up charade. Now, my eyes don't want to stay open and my dog won't stop whining, so that's all you get tonight.

Saturday, January 09, 2010

Contemplating Consolation Prizes

Attraction. Such a strange beast. To whom and when? How much is about the person? How he acts and looks and smells? How much is about me? What I've eaten, medication cocktail, lunar cycles and personally allotted social norms?
There is a Boy from the bar who likes to hit on me in a way I don't find objectionable, particularly when I'm drunk. Aural Girl, also drunk, played cheerleader last night and thinks at least dating this guy is a good idea. Maybe. I don't see it going anywhere, but at least he's not an asshole, and I wonder if I can be attracted enough to sex itself to keep myself happy. If I can, is it worth it?

Friday, January 08, 2010

Green Mills and Fire Drills

Drinking seems like a good idea because it is the social norm and then I feel better for a few hours even if I feel worse later.

NEW for 2010: dating boys even if I'm not particularly attracted to them. I know a lot of really great guys, but I keep throwing them out of the dating pool because I don't find them attractive and/or I don't see any real long-term potential. Fuck that. Date them all. Maybe something sparky will show up, and if it doesn't, at least I'm getting some much-needed practice. Fire drills.

Aural Girl and I went to the Green Mill tonight. It was a lot of fun. I'm very happy to have a friend with whom I can do that sort of shit, last minute on a Thursday.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

I Sweet Potato

Spanish has two distinct words for the verb "to be" depending on if it's ephemeral or permanent. I wish we made that distinction in English. I want to claim Popeye's "I am what I am and that's all that I am," but only in the estar sense, not the ser sense.

My heat is back on but I'm not warm yet. I'm hungry. It's easy for me to slip into the holes in my wafer shell. What can I eat and be full and think again? Ground beef. Potato. Rice. Somewhere between beef and rice should be a meal.
I get to this point where I can't think clearly unless I write. I got to that point in New York and figured I "should" be able to function like a "normal" person and ignored it and ended up crying while eating a crummy calzone because that's what I could handle. I've been me for 27 years and I keep holding out hope that maybe this time I'll land closer to average.

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

60 degrees in house. Why? I don't know. Can't stay awake long enough to figure it out. Dishes? Laundry? Have I been taking my pills? I think I took my pills. I just need to sleep. Sleep until the warm comes back. April? Food tastes like Chef Boyardee. Fire is warm. Make warm. I quit.

Monday, January 04, 2010

I have a dog. He is cute. I want to snuggle him all the time. Snuggle snuggle snuggle.

Sunday, January 03, 2010

Responsible

Neighbor Guy called me this morning from his neighbor's phone to say he had to go to the emergency room, could I give him a ride.
He thought he had alcohol poisoning.
He was conscious, had thrown up earlier, and described standard "I drank too much and now I feel like shit" symptoms, but his neighbor seemed to agree the ER was necessary so I put on my jacket and went to get my car.
My car started, went half a block, and stopped. Same dead transmission crap it pulled a few weeks ago. Two guys standing out in the single-digit cold were very nice and helped push my car into a mostly legal parking spot. "Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses" my ass. Hair in a pony tail, glasses on, wearing a hoodie and boys still do nice things. Maybe humanity is just nicer than I used to think.
I walked back to Neighbor Guy's apartment and it was even more clear to me that he was fine, but yet another one of his neighbors popped in and said detoxing at the ER was clearly the best thing, so I figured I was wrong and called a cab while Neighbor Guy went back and forth between lying on the floor in the fetal position and walking around somewhere between anxious and annoyed.
The cab arrives and Neighbor Guy has to choose which ER. He's worked at many of the major hospitals in the area, so he names the closest one he can think of where he knows no one but it doesn't suck.
$20 cab ride later (the driver had to break his $100 bill) we walk into the ER and sit down. The admitting nurse asks what's wrong and looks at Neighbor Guy like he's crazy when he says he thinks he has alcohol poisoning.
"Alcohol what?"
"I drank too much and now I feel..."
"You want to do detox?"
"Yes"
"Are you an alcoholic?"
"Yes."
This whole ordeal is suddenly worth it if Neighbor Guy admits to his alcoholism.
The nurse still thought we were insane or using the ER to treat poor baby Neighbor Guy with his tummy ache and his psychosomatic attention-seeking phantom symptoms.
That's what I thought, too.
They put him on an IV because he wanted to be on an IV. What was in the IV? Anti-nausea drugs and anti-anxiety drugs; a very mild cocktail.

He wanted to be babied and fawned over, but the whole time I was covering just what he needed, tough love, telling him he was fine and he could do it himself. He wanted to come back to my house, I said no. He wanted to take a cab the two blocks from Walgreens to his house. He wanted all sorts of things from me and from the universe and I wasn't going to make any of this cushy for him. I feel physically crappy all the time. I complain about it a lot, but it's something I'm very familiar with. When you bring the crappy on yourself in a very avoidable way, you need to learn to take responsibility for it yourself, too.

Today tied in very closely with my feelings about my trip to New York. I felt very irresponsible on the NY trip. I kept losing papers and things in my purse, I felt frazzled and dependent on Possible Boy but at the same time responsible for him. I felt like it wasn't my trip so everything I did was pure intrusion and as soon as something was actually expected of me I should have it pop magically and perfectly out of a hat because I was responsible for so little. In essence, I was back to Vacation With My Family Mode. I even forgot to eat and got crazy hungry, which is completely Singer Family Vacation Tradition--at least half the family should be hungry and cranky and yelling at any given moment. Possible Boy called me "Sweetie" at one point and I felt so much like I deserved to be treated like a child I didn't even try to punch him.

Flash forward to today, in a cab. Now instead of people taking important documents from me so they won't get lost, I'm the one holding the papers and Neighbor Guy's wallet, all in the same purse that ate addresses and directions just a few days earlier. I direct the driver to Walgreens, give the pharmacist Neighbor Guy's information. Neighbor Guy doesn't have a phone number. Last week I was in Walgreens trying to work a way to get more of my shots to me in New York. I'd tried to get them at this Walgreens, my Chicago Walgreens, a week before my trip, but with Christmas and insurance they weren't ready in time. So I felt irresponsible in New York, a drug addict begging at the counter for vials of the only thing that seems to consistently cut through my pain, and like Neighbor Guy I'd walked right into my pain my first night in New York. I ate cookies and drank a beer. I know now that cookies and beer make my head hurt, but I did it anyway. Then I drank coffee to keep me going. Then I forgot to eat. All these things that can cause problems, and I wanted to say "To hell with it! I'm in New York! I can live life like a normal person!" But I used up my shots and there I was at Walgreens, and Walgreens told me I couldn't get more shots, so now I'd have to live with the consequences. But it wasn't just me, alone in my condo with my consequences. I had friends along for the ride. I'm used to being alone, designing my life around my solitude, my dog is my "plus one." I don't want it to be that way anymore, and it's starting to change, but I have to learn to adapt my behavior, too. "To hell with it" effects more than just me.

Back to Neighbor Guy. He's the extreme example. He wants everyone else's world to stop with his hangover. I understand the feeling of "How can life go on when I feel like death?" but that's one of those ideas you know is ridiculous.
Possible Boy just called. I totally spilled cranky all over him. My mother called moments later and got more of it. I need to eat and I need to remember that everybody is human and we're all just trying to figure out life at our own paces and flavors. Neighbor Guy's inability to see beyond himself makes me crazy, but that's just one facet a lot of people share to varying degrees. Forgive myself for seeing myself first and maybe I can be less annoyed by everybody else.

Apparently I'm going to Aural Girl's house for zucchini pancakes. Local friends are swell.

Going Places

I went to New York.
I went to Cleveland.
I went a little bonkers.

"How can I leave my dog with Neighbor Guy, how can I leave my house such a mess, how can I justify spending money right now, I'm just like Neighbor Guy, I'm irresponsible, I'm inserting myself into other people's lives and vacations, I'm not worthy of friendship," came with me on the plane Sunday.
 

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