The Daily Dosing

F the privatization of prisons and the inhumane treatment of inmates

2011-01-20T19:02:00.001-08:00

As usual, as of lately, it's been a while since my last post....but such is life. Too much shit, too little time to deal with it all. Been spending a lot of time up North where there is no wireless

My new boy is in jail and probably going away for three years at least. I guess I should have known that would happen. I knew he was on the edge but I was not paying attention to what was really going on cuz I was in my own world. And then it happens and I wish I had convinced him to leave the state when I could have. But I went up North cuz I'm a coward and I wanted to be taken care of and feel safe and I let him feel left behind and abandoned and now he's going to prison. I suck. Mostly because I haven't wanted to be with someone as much as I want to be with him in almost nine years. Sure I've had Mikey but it wasn't like that. With what's his face I can hardly be next to him without wanting to drape myself upon him in a way that makes as much of my skin come in contact with his as possible. I picture his hands, his face, his voice every morning and every night and most minutes in between. I've written three letters in as many days and I haven't done that since high school when my then boyfriend got kicked out for cheating on a test, from me, who was way more stupid than him. Anyhow, I feel like I'm seventeen and totally in love for the first time. It's ridiculous.

I've bailed quite a few folks out of jail in my life. I've been there myself on occasion. But jail and prison is NOT the same thing. Once you really care about someone who is caught up in the system and is going to prison for several years or more you really begin to realize how fucked the system is. When you are a prisoner they basically take away all your rights. You are owned, an object, you are not allowed to be human anymore. Did you know that masturbating in prison can get you put in the "hole?. It's public indecency since you're never alone. They can't smoke, they can't get fresh air, they don't eat right, they can't feel safe for even a moment, they can't communicate with most people, they can't vote, travel anywhere outside of the country ever again, they can't support their families, they have to become something else, something cold and hard that doesn't feel the same because it's the only way to get by. But then when someone wants to help them from the outside, suddenly their rights are of all importance. No, we can't give you that information because you care and want to help. No, no, we uphold human rights only when it gives us the upper hand. I can't even visit him because I have a dismissed drug charge from over ten years ago. I don't even think he can put me on his phone list because I'm a bad girl, thank god I'm a bad girl, I'd hate to be good. Because don't you know, only the good die young.

I know it's probably hideous to the mainstream drone but I'm giddy because I got a message from him the other night. I got a call from some kid who was like, "you don't know me but my cousin is in a cell with what's his face and he wants me to give you a message". I was like, in my head of course, "Hell, yeah, I'm getting a secret message from my hot ass felon boyfriend from the inside. That's so Goodfellas."

Yeah, yeah...fuck you too. You'd want to fuck him too, trust me.

Anyway, I'm sure if they'd let me on his list he would have just called me himself. Cuz my brother's friend who was in jail for a few months said he once used used his calling privileges to call someone for someone and he made him give him two candy bars, a cup of soup and some other shit. So at least I know I'm worth the trouble of ten dollars worth of contraband. Or at the very least an ass whooping, cuz the kid seemed a little shaky. And what's his face is a big dude and already did a nine year bid. Plus he's pretty convincing when he wants to be.

How can someone be in jail for "receiving stolen property"? How is that his fault? Someone else stole something, gave it to him, and it's his bad? WTF???? I haven't talked to him yet...court date is in ten days, but who's to say the cops didn't put in ipod in his pocket and say he "received"it? Huh?

Fuck that.

It's the hard knock Life for Us!

2010-12-20T05:55:00.000-08:00

I wrote this days ago and never posted it. I'll post it now, don't have time to re-read so God knows what I've written. Oh well, I'm sure it will be entertaining for now. Leaving civilization today. heading up north with Mike for a bit. Not getting "back together" per say, but I need time away from this area and helping out up there will fit the bill. Peace out to everyone who has been there for me through weird shit and "good" times too. love to you all from the lifelong "junkie loser" - strange how that doesn't really upset me. Is it such a bad thing to be. Maybe nobody says I want to be a junkie when I grow up because nobody knows it's an option.

Remember the shit? That movie, Annie, about the red-headed orphan? That sit's funny, it came on tv while I was sleeping, sort of, and I've ended up watching it. Who plays Miss Hannigan? She does a great job playing a drunk, heartless bitch.

Sometimes I prefer old movies to the new movies out nowadays. All the people aren't super perfect, perfect skin, perfect bodies, perfect everything.....they look more real, just like the rest of us. I think that the way people are portrayed in magazines and film these days is super detrimental to the collective soul of our world. It's not realistic, everyone knows that, yet we all still strive to attain such perfection. Perfection that will never come to us, ever, no matter how hard we try, how many products we use, or how many surgeries we have.

Ah, shit, Miss Hannigan just fixes the picture by tilting it when it was straight to begin with. After she wakes up with a bottle in her hand next to her bathtub gin........funny shit. She tries to seduce Daddy Warbucks.....I need my own Daddy Morebucks.......

I have to stop doing this white shit. I'm going to kill myself with a heart attack. Some kid I sort of chilled with in high school just died from an OD, heroin, but it's easier, I think to OD on coke. Because with dope you generally nod out or fall asleep before you die. Coke just makes you want more and more until your heart pops or something. I wish it were gone.

Why do so many women have a thing for a bad boy image? Do we like the torture? Is life too boring without it for us? I wish I were average, ordinary, blind like it seems so many are. It seems like life would be so much easier if I were one of those people who worked the same job for twenty five years without missing more than. like, five days ever. How do they do that? I can't imagine being at any of the jobs I've had in my life for that long. But some people not only accomplish it, but they seem actually okay, maybe even content if not exactly happy. They have happy, or really truly stimulating moments every so often....a child is born or someone dies, a holiday comes around and it's just so fuckin pleasant for them to focus on that and make it worth living for. For me, it's just so difficult to maintain one personality, or situation for very long. I need there to be unknowns, surprises, something to trip me up, make my blood pump hard. Without that I get too antsy and create situations in which I need to function at a higher, faster level than everyday life.

yesterday I could have stayed here, safely, with no problems at all and gone Christmas shopping and errands and shit for my Mom. But the very thought makes me want to puke. Instead I deliberately put myself in danger by driving an hour or more to a city to meet a man who does not ever have my best interests at heart, only trouble is in his heart. But I wanted the trouble, the closeness to the edge is stimulating. Will we get caught? Will we die? Will we go to jail? Is he lying? I kind of enjoy the not knowing, it scares me as much as it intrigues me. Am I warped? Other people must feel that desire to be close to death or destruction just to see if they can make it through. Anyone who does an extreme sport is certainly flirting with death? What I do is similar to that of an athlete addicted to the adrenaline the sport creates for them. Mine is just a less healthy, overall, addiction.

Mikey just had to hide the rest of the yayo from me so I don't sit here all ganked out all day writing stupid shit on the internet. My arms are busted, but I like scars. What's his face has a scar down his left side below his eye. It's pretty big but it blends in well and I personally think it's sexy as hell. I wish my scar that I got when I fell was more like a real scar, well part of it is a real scar, over my eye. I definitely needed stitches and had a concussion but I didn't want to go to the hospital but ended up having to anyhow in the long run because the clinic wouldn't dose me with my eye all busted until the hospital cleared me for a head trauma. So I should have just gone to begin with and maybe my scar would have come out better. Above the place where there was a deep cut there was another patch that wasn't quite so deep. But as it's healing it looks retarded because it just looks like rug burn now. Of course I have to get a doofy scar and not a cool one. I guess facial scars are better on men anyhow. I've dated a couple guys with substantial facial scars. Not, like, all over their faces but a big one down the side. Both what's his face and my boy Anthony from back in the day have scars like that. Mad sexy.

What's his face just called. He said he would but I try never to wait for anything he promises with great anticipation because I know he will disappoint if I wait for it. But if I pretend I don't care he has to call to make sure he's still got me by at least a little thread. The more I seem to give the less interested he seems. I think he may be jealous because he finally listened to me just now and realized I was going far away from him for a while, with my ex no less, so he said he would call me right back but now I haven't heard back from him in a few hours. But I won't call him back, no he'll call me when he can't take it anymore, I hope. If not, at least I know the name of the program he's going to so I can find him if I want to later.

2010-12-19T22:32:00.000-08:00

Today was, well, I don't really know what to say about today. It should be over but it's not....it's still going, I'm still going....strong. I was taking suboxone for a few days, in fact I took it today as well and didn't use any H, but I'm pretty amped up on some damn good coke at the moment. Not my usual drug of choice but not, certainly, something I'm going to turn down given the opportunity. My crush of all crushes did call me over the week that my phone was broken and I was hiding away, sick as hell, up in the North country. He had his court date and wanted to see me before he went away. Although I'm not so sure that he would care to see me so much if I didn't show up with a car to haul his ass around all day and night. Plus I bring him shit to sell or simply share my money so we can both get high. What addict wouldn't want to hang out with some pretty girl who was so in love with them that they would risk their own safety in order to please them. I know it's pathetic, but I almost don't care because I really do love him, all his faults of which there are many, and his monstrous beauty. He scares me and confuses me and I know he doesn't feel exactly the same about me. I honestly can't tell how he feels about me at all. One moment he's telling me we'll live in the shelter together and get an apartment through the state and live there together, and the next he's giving me the most pitiful hug goodbye that I was actually horrified and insulted and called him out on it. I swear he tries to start a fight with me every time we part because it's easier for him to leave when he's angry. I hate that, I want to have a heartfelt goodbye. If he's going to a program, or jail if he doesn't set the program shit up, for six months to what could be fifteen years than I want a real hug and kiss goodbye. I mean seriously....is he fucking fucked or what? It drives me crazy. He drives me crazy, but I love it. I love the challenge. (why and how can I taste the coke in my mouth when I put it in a vein? It's crazy but I can't see how some folks can do this every day. It's way too much, I prefer to be brought down rather than forced up. I'm pretty amped all on my own without much help.......eeeeek, hot damn! this shit is Sta..rong!)

I've been awake now for far too long. Mikey passed out hours ago - not really into the yay even though he's the one who hooked it up. He should know better than to leave me alone at night with a gram of coke. I haven't done it all but it's only because it's so good I couldn't have without making myself sick. A gram of dope would be a different story. That wouldn't be around for very long at all. But then again dope doesn't make my heart feel like it's about to explode.

Anyhow, Mike and I are staying at my mom's house through Christmas because she seems to want us to be here for the holiday. But then we're going to head back up north. I'm going to stay up there and help him with his house for a while, and hopefully it will help me stay out of trouble. With what's his face in a rehab program for an indefinite period and me far too far away to get to him, maybe, just maybe I'll get over it/him. But I also don't feel like it's right to make Mikey think that everything is fine and I'm gonna just go right back to him. After feeling such intense attraction to someone else I realize that he is more my best friend than anything. But he realized, after I wasn't there anymore, that he was in love with me and he wants me to simply move there with him and have kids and live in this weird border town. I just don't think I can do that. Mikey knows all about what's his face, everyone does. I really suck at lying or even just keeping things to myself. Everyone in my fam knows where I've been these past weeks. They all know I relapsed and fell in love with a crackhead, dopehead, felon asshole who happens to be unbearably magnetic as far as I'm concerned. I doubt there are very many women in this world who wouldn't find him alluring. Without knowing all the details of his life, just meeting him is something to throw anyone for a loop. And he just happens to be all the things I find must be a trait in any man of mine. I really don't think he feels the same, and that sucks. But maybe it's a blessing. Maybe I can find someone else I'm as drawn to who isn't so emotionally unavailable and complicated.

Life.....Still F'd

2010-12-18T06:53:00.000-08:00

Wow-eeeee, oh so, SO much has happened since last I posted. I spiraled away into a black hole of using for about the last three weeks (well, no it's been exactly a month, now that I consult a calendar since the show, Nov. 19th) - but this was a binger way crazier than anything or anywhere I have ever gone before. The catalyst for my recent breakdown was trying to live with my family and trying so hard to fit into a town that is just too stuffy and straight-laced, I had so much steam to blow off I just couldn't control myself. I can't even say it's over but I'm not using today. I made it from here to there a hard way - by making myself get stuck in the north country with no shit, nobody to get shit from except Mikey with his suboxone. So I had to wait until I was sick enough and then I gave in and took some suboxone and now here I am fake "clean", barely maintained on synthetic heroin that the govt. can regulate and feel good about. fuck that. But it's better than being sick and better than compromising my soul to get high everyday. But I don't know how long I will be able to stay at this pace, this level, I am an addict at heart and never really stop thinking about my first and strongest love which is heroin. Suboxone keeps me from being physically ill but it's never worked well for me for very long. As an addict it's too hard for me to regulate myself. I can play with that shit too easily - take it when I want to and not when I don't. Use, get sick, maintain, fumble and cycle back around all over again.

But for the last week I've been staying up in the far North with Mikey, the ex, I know......but it's the only safe place I have right now. He's gutting a house up there which he bought outright over the summer. It might just be crazy and intense enough of a situation to keep me pumped enough not to use for a while. Sleeping in a tent inside a gutted building in eight degree temps, scaling roofs covered in snow to install our wood stove and meeting some crazy people who work the border - pretty interesting. And for now it's keeping me off the streets which is where I have been since that night I met my latest downfall. I have to finish up this post because I am currently at my mother's house gathering some things to bring back north and she needs me to go to the grocery store for her - ah, how things just never change, right back in the old groove of icky. But you have to give to get, right? I just feel like I give a lot and then get weird things I don't really want in return. Although I do know I owe my mother right now - at least payback for the craziness she's witnessed from me and the worry I've caused. It's the least I can do I suppose - I just hate it though.

Anyway, I'll try to post again later because I know everyone really wants to know what happened on the streets of Worcester with my crazy man over the past month. And of course that is the juicy story. Oh boy-o am I hung up on the baddest boy I could possibly find. But isn't he just the most alluring motherfucker on the planet to me. He's like a magnet for me - I can feel him pulling me from here as I sit writing this. We've spent many a night tramping the streets since that first - and I should be running from him in the opposite direction. But that just isn't what I want to do. I want to burrow into him, be part of his being, and never be broken apart. And I know there is a part of him that feels the same way........but we're like that doofy eminem song..."When a volcano meets a tornado"........that's us. It's been a wild ride........

......to be continued. Soon, I hope.

Until then, keep on keeping on the best we can.

Life is F'd

2010-12-03T09:53:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted at all lately because my computer (laptop) was stolen out of my car. Why was is there that night? I don'y know, it shouldn't have been. It should have been at home, I should have been at home.
I have sooooo much I want to say, I feel like my head is exploding. I'm so used to blogging as an outlet and I just don't have that right now. I need to figure out a way to get a new comp, or use the town library in the meantime.
life sucks right now. I totally relapsed. I've gone off the deep end, I've been doing crazy shit that I didn't even do ever before when I was at my very worst using drugs back in the day. I've been "clean" for so long. I used qouatation marks because I've only been really clean from opiates and hard drugs. I still smoke weed and take my meds, which are certainly drugs. I just don't believe how fast and crazy shit like this can happen.
It all started because I went to Worcester, Mass to try to meet up with my sister to get some xanax or klonopins or something cuz I was all out. But pretty much everything that could possibly go wrong did just that. My phone died, and I had no charger so I couldn't call my sister and the show seemed like it had already started by the time I got there, and shakedown (the area where people sell anything from crystals to stickers to heroin, usually). But this shakedown sucked. And by the time I was there, it was all over. My mind was working all on it's own. My feet took themselves to the exact place I knew I needed to be even though I'd never copped in Worcester before, it was as if I knew my way around already. Within minutes of showing up at the spot, I found myself being carried along by a huge man. I wasn't really paying attention to him, I just wanted to score. He smelled clean and I wasn't getting a bad vibe about him. So He found me what I wanted and a clean needle and he brought me to a quiet hallway where I could boot up.
I don't look at people very closely when meeting them. I go more on feeling. Can I feel like this is a good person. And I just felt safe with him. WE did our shit and then we were just sitting there talking. And he must be very insecure beuase he asked me if he was handsome. And I honestly hadn't really looked at him until he said that directly, so I had to look at him closely now. I wanted to know now, was he handsome. A lot of the kids I've always copped from have been good looking but there are always nso young and hardly speak english, I've just never hit it off with a street dealer before. But here I am lookinh at him, finally, and he is not just handsome, he's magneticaaly beautiful. He draws you in with a look. I never should have looked. I wish I'd never met this torturous male siren, with the fullest lips and humungous brown eyes. And because we both were high I don't rememenber the specifics of how I ended up straddling him (clothes on, thank you very much) But he must have said something to get me there because I'm very shy and insecure and I never would have approaced such beauty without an invitation.
I have to go, this is my brother's computer and I need to get going. More later, because the story nis not even close to over. My heart is breaking, and I know he wants me too but I don't know if he knows what to make of me, we are so different.

2010-11-13T21:42:00.000-08:00

Well Mumsie Dearest is away. How sad. How sad it is that she has to eventually come home. Sorry, I guess I shouldn't say that. It's not that I don't love her, I just can't stand her. I don't even know how much I can even get into right now. There's just not enough time in the day, the night, this life altogether needs to slow down and give me more time.

For starters I'm here alone with my twenty year old, passive aggressive, hallucinogen obsessed, asshole brother. If he's not here begging for money, showering, or sleeping with his seventeen year old GF, he's off doing who knows what ans shuts down communication. He has no regard for the wa others may feel, I worry he's hurt.

I can't even get into the details. my mom bought this stupid car I didn't want her to buy. I said it was a scam. But she never listens to me. So she buys this jalopy b/c this fat greasy schemer tells her she's beautiful. The car I picked, the guy didn't flirt with her. OMG he was professional. So out with him and now I'm driving this fricken death trap. Literally. Anti-freeze is blowing right at my face every time I turn the heat on.

Only positive: hot new mechanic, will keep posted,

Hello Hello to all My Dears

2010-10-31T05:41:00.000-07:00

Hello and Good Happy Halloween Mornin' to Ya! It sure has been a while. I'm going to try to address some of the comments I've been neglecting and give a general update here while I have a rare moment of peace and quiet. I miss my blogging world despite have a new real world which is taking up all of my time. I feel often that my blogger friends understand me better than some of the friends and/or family who actually see me in person daily. And I don't want to lose the connection I have to you guys - those in particular, who I would miss the most, probably know who you are. And then there are some new folks been stopping by and I feel so psyched about that because they seem cool. I'm glad to be hearing from you Verity Vaudeville cuz I think we have a lot in common and it's good to bounce thoughts off other interesting folks cuz they understand the origin of the pain or happiness better than someone who does not think in the same intense way as you or I or those who are in the realm of the functioning crazies. And I say that with as much love as possible. I really appreciate you all. And I love when Boston Joe stops by on his way about his own super busy life. Much Love to you all!!!!

So what's new? Oh, there's just so much I don't know where to begin. I'll have to check in with Jeannie and see how her illness has played out cuz mine's still hanging on with a lot of might. I feel a bit better for a day or two and then here it comes, rolling back at me with full force. I'd probably have more luck beating this thing if I had a few days off to recuperate. I hadn't been working at all (well, not a real job anyhow. And work for my Mom is more forgiving than the real thing) and now I'm working non-stop. I think, since I started my first day at the choco store at the very end of September, until now at the very end of October I've had only three days off. And we all know I spent those days doing my laundry, cleaning my space, cooking so I'd have lunches for the week, and generally preparing to continue the daily grind with as few snafus as possible. One afternoon I did just take to bed and refused to acknowledge anyone or anything so I could sleep a bit. And that helped a lot. If I could do that for just, like, two days I think I could beat this faster. But I've been taking plenty of the traditional Day/NightQuil, the Theraflu icky hot medicine drinks, and the Mucinex which just seems to make gooey shit come dripping out of every orifice - shouldn't I be dried up already? For crying out loud!? It's begun to dry my skin out to the point it's itching and I have to slather myself in moisturizer - but my lungs and sinus areas are still slogging in mucus. So I've added some alternative remedies and have been drinking much Gypsy Cold Tea and echinacea with garlic and ginger. And although I am not well yet, there should be something to be said for not collapsing entirely. I don't feel a hundred percent but I'm still getting high praise at both my new jobs so imagine how much they'll love me when they see how hard I work when I'm not sick. Whoo hoo, they better watch out, can they handle my greatness as an employee?

No, really, in all seriousness I am enjoying both jobs for the most part. I love, love, love the chocolate shop because I'm learning so much I really feel as if I'm an apprentice to this amazing trade. I feel very blessed to have found something which makes me happy and advances my culinary knowledge. Because any regular reader must know how much I love food, and cooking and baking and now I'll be adding confections to my repertoire - and that is awesome. More details on that later because I do have to work today for only four hours but it takes time to get ready too. And I still need to walk dogs and do some yoga for my own salvation in this life.

And this is mostly in response to SB because she brought up that working at Starbucks must be cool cuz free drinks and stuff. I actually am beginning to like it more and more as I'm learning all the crazy variations and coffee police guidelines - but there is one thing that puts a damper on it. Well, more than one but let's just focus for now on the fact the Starbucks I work at is not a "real" Starbucks. It appears so to the eye of every customer walking in the door, you are greeted with the traditional green and black color pattern, and all the typical products appear to be present but it is owned by Stop and Shop. And this is apparently an extremely rare arrangement, but of course I managed to find it. So although we serve the same drinks and follow ninety-nine percent of the same rules, certain little things don't apply. For one, us employees don't get free drinks like at a real Starbucks. We don't get a bag of coffee every month to take home and we don't get trained as well. Our paychecks are actually signed by Stop and Shop. How weird is that? We also have slightly different prices and we don't offer all of the same promotions to the customers. It can make things a little confusing, for sure.

Okay, dammit, I have to end this now so I have enough time to get ready and do some yoga, just a little, enough to keep my as pain free as possible. If people know how much yoga could help them they would just have to do it. I wish I had started years ago, I wish I had learned as a child. If I do it regularly, and I admit I have been slacking because I've been feeling sick and tired (the very reasons I should force myself TO DO it even more), it really help me in so many ways but mostly it helps keep the pain out of my shoulder. Without yoga, I can't even lay on my left side to sleep at night because it's too uncomfortable.

Well, for the third time, I think, I am off. I'm working downstairs in the shop part of the chocolate factory today. I prefer the kitchen, obviously, but the shop is wonderful too. Being decorated for the holidays makes it so magical feeling. I feel like an elf working at Santa's chocolate shop. Have a good day everyone.

Love,
Nellie

2010-10-14T04:02:00.000-07:00

Sorry, sorry, so sorry I've been neglecting comments, friends, and many other things while starting these new jobs. Got two jobs, one at the chocolate place and part time at Starbucks too. Things are good for the most part...looking up. Promise to fulfill my duties to friends very soon.

2010-10-09T18:57:00.000-07:00

Super duper busy. Got a bad cold - stupid cold. I hate being sick. It's like you're still alive and you look normal, mostly, but no one can tell how shitty you feel cuz it's not like having a broken leg. A cold is like mental illness, only a cold actually has more discernible side effects as far as the outside world could see.
The worst thing is that i just made this dinner I've been craving all day, all the while I was selling chocolates at the chocolate shop, and I can't even taste it properly. i'm gonna try the best I can though because I can imagine how fricken delicious it should be.
I love my job at the chocolate shop - I really do. I've been getting along with everyone. Except for this one lady who I will tell all about later. Right now I'm gonna eat this here steak and taste it the best I can.
Goodnight, dear readers. I promise, promise, promise I will check comments tomorrow.

Love to All,
Nellie

2010-10-04T18:10:00.000-07:00

Good day. Long day. Interview at Stop&Shop grocery store. Hired to work part-time at the in-store Starbucks. So with both jobs combined I'll be working at least full time, maybe more. Nice. I'll be making some money. AND, I got some anxiety meds today. Nothing crazy but I think it will help. I don't talk about it too much, I don't know why. I have super bad anxiety. Maybe because I lived with it for so long that most of the time I figured I was just going to have to go through life anxious and unhappy because of it forever. But I really like me new counselor and my new Doc, so who knows. Maybe with my 'team' I'll actually be able to get off this fricken methadone shit for good. And maybe I'll eventually be able to go into a store without sweating profusely, heart pounding, loss of breath, tingling fingers. That would be cool.

2010-10-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

Well, things are good and things are bad. I have my new job which is really cool. It's pretty laid back so far. I like working with chocolate. It's an art for sure. The melting and coating, the setting of the creams and checking for inconsistencies. I feel like I'm in Charlie's chocolate factory. Everyone seems to like me and I feel like I fit in. And I have an interview tomorrow for another job at the local Stop & Shop grocery store. So with both jobs, because it seems like once you get the interview the job is yours - at least in the service/low paying industries - I should be able to save up for a car. I want to get a small 4x4 pick-up or suv, used of course. Something I paid for and will be ALL MINE. That's the motto for the future. Get what I need to live all by myself. It's been my dream and my goal since I began writing it down, so since I can remember. I look back at old journals and I keep reading the same thing. I just need to get the basics so I can go off and do what I want. But the same issues just keep repeating themselves and I get nowhere. But it does seem like I have a chance for things to be different this time. Why? Well, it's me, I'm different. Before I would have been so out of here with nothing to keep me going. I would be sleeping in a tent or car or a cabin with no electric or water - just to get away from my crazy family. My family is still crazy, and I still have no respect for any of them - but I've learned to fake it so so. I haven't lived in my parent's house since I was seventeen. I got no help then and I don't get much now. I get a roof and the basics but it's always been emotional support I've craved. I've wanted a role model, someone to copy who did things the way I wish I could. I know there are people out there who are like what I wish I could be, I've just never actually personally met any. But I will. Because I'm going to stop hanging around close enough to my Mom so I can save the day for her or my siblings when she has an emotional/mental breakdown. I'm always worries she'll kill herself and I'll need to be nearby to pick up the pieces of her mess. That's no way to live, it has never been a way to live, it sucks, it sucks me dry, I have nothing left for myself after blotting her wounds all the time. I'm done, I'm living for myself. And part of that entails dealing with her crazy for once in my life, not running away from it because it stresses me out. I have to find ways to deal until I have my own basics and then I'm doing what I've always wanted even if it means I'm not near by to clean up her mess.

2010-09-30T18:22:00.000-07:00

It's not that late but I'm tired. I get up by six most days, earlier now because I GOT A JOB!!! Whoo-hooo! It's not a really crappy job either, it's a cool job. I'm working at a place called The Chocolatier and it's a small chocolate shop within walking distance of my house. But the best part is that they have a kitchen above the shop where they make all their chocolates by hand and I get to work in the kitchen and the shop. So it's not as if I'll be spending my days feeling like I'm just a wart on the face of society, doing nothing beautiful. Because every day I will be doing something beautiful, something that makes people feel happy. Okay, well maybe not every day, because it's only part time for now - but at least three days a week but maybe more as the holidays come. And if people call out I'll take their shifts. Anyhow, things are looking up. There is light at the end of the tunnel on my way out of my mother's house.

I can't write anymore because I drank too much wine and now I want to have some of the pie I made. And I have to put away the overly dry mac and cheese I made from scratch. All of which my mother ate even though the last several days she's been deliberately leaving me out of meals. I finally cooked myself something cuz I was starving - I thought she was out so I could eat in peace. But of course she came home mid-prep - awful. But I just kept doing my thing, and I'm glad I did. Pooh pooh to them all.

2010-09-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

I finally got a job. So it's only at Dunkin' Donuts, but so what. It's better than nothing and they're the only place that's called me back at all (well, the chocolate shop, but they only need part-time. And I need full-time so I can get out of here) so I'm taking it. And the guy who interviewed me was the son of the family who owns, like, all the DD's in the area and he was very nice. So that's a really good sign. I've learned that it's important to like your boss, and I think as far as bosses go he's alright. He seemed easy going but on top of things. And it's a brand new store so it's wicked clean. And it's not really a very busy location. I live in kind of the middle of nowhere so it probably won't be the worse job I've ever had. The owner said he would try to work around me taking classes, within reason. That's important.
I'm a little worried about coming off the methadone while I'm working. But I'm going to do what I can to get on some sort of anxiety medication which should help me get through work. And maybe I'll even get some sleep. The thing about a job like this is that I can't smoke on the job. Once I'm making some money I'll be paying for me own methadone and maybe I'll have enough eventually to go to the doctor who gives my mom and my sister their meds. I just want some ativan or something.
Anyhow, for some reason I don't really feel well. I think I'm dizzy from the release of stress from knowing I have a job finally. I'm gonna chill while I still can. I already went to the clinic this morning, than the beach for almost two hours. I go swimming almost every day even though it's super cold. I wish I had known how close the beach was all summer.

2010-09-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

Things are lookin' up. I've got two job interviews lined up, one tomorrow and another on Friday. So that is, like, a humongo load off my shoulders. I'm pretty confident that I'll be offered a place at at least one of them. So since I've been so stressed lately I think I'm going to be a little indulgent today and go to the beach by myself. No dogs, no nothing but me, my reading, and the sun and waves.

Later.

2010-09-16T03:32:00.000-07:00

How lame is it to have a blog called The Daily Dosing and then rarely give a daily dose of anything? Super lame, that's how lame. Well, you're still not gettin' anything good right now even though I have a million things to comment on, from a dead, crusty raccoon on the beach to more crazy mum stories. Oh, and I have a good one...oh, nevermind it's almost six thirty a.m. and I'm dragging my ass. The dogs are like, 'what the hell?"

So, until later then my peeps.

2010-09-05T10:37:00.000-07:00

Sunday. I've always liked Sunday. It's a slow, lazy day. I think the world needs to slow down, the people in the United States in particular need to slow down and appreciate life more. Why are we rushing? What is the hurry?

I cleaned the house up a bit this morning, sat around, ate breakfast, watched a couple episodes of Nurse Jackie (what a crazy fricken show, huh?) and now I think I'm gonna head to the beach and watch the surfers while I do some yoga. Then I'm going to come home later on, early evening, and make dinner for my little brother and myself. I can't decide if we're going to have blueberry pancakes with chicken sausage or pasta with chicken, broccoli, and creamy garlic sauce. I'll ask him what he wants. Then I think I'm going to bake banana bread because we have a bunch of overripe bananas. What a life. I feel really lucky at times like these.

Of course there are things I want that I don't have. But I have time to get those things. I've also done a lot of things that other people haven't had a chance to do because they did the other stuff first. But I think that getting that out of my system will make me appreciate everything that is to come.

Have a happy Sunday people. Even all you grumpy meany people out there. I hope you find happiness too.

Have You Heard of Ibogaine Therapy?

2010-09-03T08:53:00.000-07:00

This morning I learned something new in the realm of opiate addiction treatment. It's actually quite interesting and I think anyone who has an issue with opiate dependence may find it intriguing as well. And I must give credit to my younger brother, Sam, who made me aware of this controversial and fascinating therapy. Some of you may have heard of it before, or like myself, know you should have but didn't pay enough attention. If you've read any Hunter S. Thompson you have read about it and just let it slip through your mind like so many other things. Anyone who reads my blog somewhat regularly may know that I've been struggling with, first a heroin addiction, and now a methadone addiction for many years. I have been on methadone for seven years and was a successful H addict for about five years prior to that. I desperately wish to be free of the burden of dependence. I don't want to medicate myself everyday with something that has so much power over me.
But despite my many efforts at complete detox I have never yet been able to entirely overcome my addiction. I have come pretty far though. I am now on only 33mg of methadone a day and I come down 1mg a week. I am more or less only on it now because it helps to treat my extreme anxiety. But I would much rather find other methods of lowering my anxiety which do not require me to be tied to a clinic, unable to live a normal life. I will continue to smoke marijuana daily because that does not affect my life negatively in the way that my methadone dependency does. And it also does a great deal to limit my level of anxiety in day to day activities. Something as simple as going grocery shopping can produce nausea, sweating, my cheeks will burn and my throat flutters. I race through the store, often forgetting items I need and I limit my interaction with people as much as possible. I'm not like that when I'm high. But there has to be another way to make life less anxiety inducing.
Since I am always interested to find a promising possibility when it comes to recovery, I was thrilled when my brother mentioned this newish therapy. It is called Ibogaine Treatment and it's a little freaky but I think it could be right for someone like myself who has been trying for so long to be clean. It's basically intense therapy but the talk therapy is assisted by the use of a "naturally occurring psychoactive substance found", actually, "in a number of plants" but especially those in the Tabernathe iboga species. Apparently, ingestion of the active chemicals in this plant produce minor hallucinations and deep introspection causing patients to understand the root causes of their addiction. But it's not only that, it gets even crazier. It is claimed by doctors and patients alike that after a short period of time ingesting this drug, patients notice that the withdrawal symptoms of their opiate dependency are no longer discernible to them. Something about the chemical structure of this plant is able to heal the broken pathways of our brains and reset the way we create dopamine and other "feel-good" type chemicals that we need to lead healthy, happy lives. People who have experienced this treatment say they feel the way they did before they became addicted, they don't get cravings and their depression has been alleviated. It seems almost too good to be true.
But there are clinics being operated in many countries around the world. Of course, the United States is not one of them because we like to keep beneficial medical treatments out of the hands of the public if we think it may, in any way, interfere with the ability to make mucho money off the black market drug trade and the subsequent influx of cash into law enforcement and politics. The US is also notorious for fearing anything which opens the mind to internal exploration and introspection. Because then, of course, people begin to question what the hell is going on in the world and that's just a fricken nuisance for those trying to make a living off of the raping of our natural resources and the destruction of our souls.
So I guess my point is that I think this therapy is worth researching further. I am guessing, especially because I have not been able to find any info on cost, that it is somewhat prohibitive. I have wanted for years to go away to a recovery retreat and not come home until I have healed myself. But that's damned expensive. Once a person takes their very last mg. of methadone it can still take up to several more months before they can sleep through the night, eat without feeling sick; before the constant aching in their bones begins to subside, before the body temp regulates itself and there is not a constant feeling of dread hanging over them. But traditional detox programs don't keep patients more than two weeks because insurance doesn't cover it. So the way it stands now is that rich people get way more of a chance to get clean than poor people. But I've been thinking of taking advantage of living with my mother and trying to save up enough to send myself to a really nice private clinic so I can really focus on fully detoxing from the methadone and then doing some really intense therapy so I can get on with my life. I think it could be really amazing for me. So I can get down really low as I'm saving up and then go when I would really need the most help.
So I've included some links to information about this Ibogaine treatment. I have read a lot of it but not all of it. I plan to do quite a lot more research on this method of recovery. I think it could help to allow me to do what I really want in my life. I want to heal myself so that I can help others who suffer from the same afflictions heal themselves. And I think people are more effective as healers if they are accepting of themselves.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ibogaine

http://www.ibogaine.desk.nl/

2010-08-31T09:51:00.000-07:00

I tried something different with my dogs this morning. Instead of taking all of them on the morning walk, I only took two. I figured that way, if we ran into anyone on the trail, I could focus my attention more and hopefully they would get more out of the interaction. And even though we didn't end up running into anyone I feel like they benefited from the more individualized attention. We were able to walk farther because I wasn't as worried about them flipping out so they got more exercise. And I'm going to take the other two out with me for a walk this evening after dinner. My plan is to rotate which two I take every morning. And it's not like the others are abused and sitting in the basement all day. We have a backyard that's big enough for them to run around in the grass and then they get to spend the rest of the day chilling on the screened-in porch. Of course I also let them out throughout the day to go to the bathroom.
It will be harder if I ever get a job because I'll have less time. But that's partially why I want to work a second or third shift. That way I have plenty of time to get to the clinic, take the dogs out for a walk, take a shower, eat, smoke, and then still get to work with time to spare. I'm a much better employee if I can do my morning routine everyday. Because even in the winter I can take the dogs to the beach to walk because there is no snow right next to the water because of all the salt. So it's the only place they can walk because they are too short to walk in snow, they would be buried over their heads after most storms.
So anyhow, I'm going to try to make the afternoon/evening walk take us past some people. I think it's the only way I'm ever going to be able to have them pass by people without flipping. I just have to get them to see that it's okay. So if I take just two I can control them so they know it's not okay. When I have all four, the worst of them, the leader I guess, she gets them all going and then it's as if I'm not even there. They don't register me, they can see or hear me until they calm down. I think if I only have two I can keep it from getting to that point. And I'll probably have to work with the "leader" on her own so she stops starting it.
Oh my, I've had too much coffee and no food yet today and it's after noon. I have to eat and get my resumes printed so I can drop them off TODAY! Come on Nellie, get my shit together. I have to make myself do this because I get so depressed even though I despise depression in people. I try to hide it but it's there. If I push through it, which I can do more now than ever before, it does go away before coming back. Today is better than yesterday because I got a chance to do some yoga this morning which always helps get me moving and excited about things. Then I like a chance to write here, to all the random people out there. It's very healing to be able just vent. So today I have list I need to do and that's good.
And my sister is coming to dinner and maybe she'll and up spending the night. So I have to get going. I always try to fit too much in and then we don't eat until nine at night.

2010-08-30T12:21:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling kind of down. I can't seem to catch a break on this job thing. I called Friendly's and the manager said he had just done some hiring the beginning of last week - right before I handed in my application. I don't know how those people knew about the job, the sign hadn't even gone up yet. They had to be friends of employees. Anyhow, he said he was going to do some more hiring in a week or so, so it's not all hopeless. But why does it have to be so hard to get a lame job? I'm printing out resumes today to take to three new places I found online today. They could be promising - A cafe, banquet set-up, and another hotel. And one is sort of close. Of course, I'm not going to give up on Friendly's because it's within walking distance which would be the best for me. I'm still waiting to hear from the hotel in Maine. I'll give them until tomorrow because I just filled out the online addition to my application. I brought them a resume which told them about five times more about me than their stupid online app. But still they needed me to fill it out. Only I didn't do it as fast as I should have. So I probably look like a big jerk. Oh well. I'm tired of worrying so much so it is what it is. People who don't worry as much about little stuff seem happier. So that's my goal - to learn to just chill. But still I haven't really learned yet so I feel lost and depressed at the moment.

cupcakes and cool people

2010-08-28T14:16:00.000-07:00

I was looking for a recipe for chocolate cupcakes and I found this blog. It seems to me that there are a lot of different ways to blog and they don't all link to one another. Or maybe they do if you know how, but it's not easy. I think I need to take a class all about blogging so I know how to make my blog as awesome as possible. Why? I don't know. But for me, blogging is like journaling - only you get to share it with other people. Only it's people you don't already know personally so they don't judge you right off so really they get to know you better than most other people because why hold back, really? Anyhow. this woman has a blog but it's not through blogger. I'm going to try to link to her site because it seems pretty cool. I like anything that is about living the best life possible. This lady grew up off the grid with her parents - no electricity, no running water and she became very thrifty and handy at using what she had. She now runs a store and has her own family. But she has stayed loyal to the simple life it seems. She's all about baking, cooking, sewing and raising wholesome kids. The same life I want to live if I could get my shit together and meet a real man.

http://thefarmchicks.typepad.com/

Check her out. She's my new temporary role model.

What is Friendship?

2010-08-28T06:17:00.000-07:00

How do I always manage to find these people? It just occurred to me that part of it is that they all, most recently anyhow, have been connected to the methadone clinic. I thought maybe this time I had done better because this girl didn't ever do heroin. She became addicted to her pain meds after a surgery she had after having her kids. So I though that since she didn't smoke weed and never really was part of a drug scene that maybe she would be different than the people who had. I thought maybe she would have her shit together more. But the more time that goes by I'm finding her to be very needy. I hate that in a friend. When a friendship becomes off balance and there is always one who needs something and then always the other one giving, it isn't really a friendship anymore. It's now a relationship of a whole different color. I feel like when I'm always the one who is giving it starts to suck me dry and I begin to resent the relationship. For some reason it seems like all the people I ever connect with are like this.
And I have to believe that in some way it is a reflection of myself. I have a difficult time being comfortable around people who aren't like that because I never really spent any time with people who were stable. Ever. Like never in my whole life, aside from in passing, have I ever really gotten to know anyone who kept a full time job, didn't get a bitter divorce, wasn't on loads of psychiatric drugs, dealing with legal issues, or a massive drug problem; or possibly a combination of those. I don't know anyone really happy and successful. No one who loves what they do. I wish I had someone near me who I really respected so I could see what they do and then copy them. Because isn't that really how humans learn everything? Isn't that why Rosetta stone is so effective? Because not only do you see the words, you see the action, you do the action yourself and then call it what it is. I wish I had someone who could show me the day to day activities of a happy, successful person. It's like learning anything. If you try to teach yourself something by reading books about it and then trial and error, you may eventually become competent. But it would be much more effective and probably faster if you could study along with someone who is already proficient in the thing you want to do. Hence, schools and teachers. Why don't we just let our children go out there and figure it out? It probably wouldn't be that effective.
Well, anyway. I'm trying to set my life up so that I spend more time around people who I want to emulate. In five years I don't want to be reading old posts and thinking, "My, nothing has changed. I'm still floundering and unsatisfied with life". I want to be able to look at my life and not feel like a failure. I want to have friends who I love and respect. I want to be around people I admire, not people I pity and resent. And I think for that to happen I have to have more respect for myself.
I think I took a positive step in that direction by finally breaking up with Mikey. And I'm really happy that we have been able to remain friends. We see each other every couple of weeks - because he's been living at a friend's house about an hour from me since, probably, May or June. And I miss him sometimes, but overall my stress level has decreased significantly. I sleep better, I get more exercise. Overall I just take better care of myself because I'm not playing mommy to him. But I'm so totally not ready to begin dating anyone else right now. Eventually I do want to meet someone, and I really want kids someday and I'm worried I'm getting too old. I'm terrified I'm going to be one of the women in the world who hits early menopause and can't have kids because I waited too long.
And then other times I think that it's selfish to want kids so badly when the world is so overpopulated. And I would definitely adopt but I wouldn't be allowed probably because of my history with drugs, right? And I couldn't afford it. Doesn't it cost a ton to adopt children? You would think with all the kids dying and starving all over the world they would give one to me. I might be wacky but I'd be a great mom. I know I'd at least be better than some. This girl I was talking about earlier (I would never write this if I ever, ever, ever thought she would read it, but there's no way in frozen hell. So it's okay...right?) swears and screams at her kids every time I'm on the phone with her. I want to say something, but how? What? It will not go over well. No one likes to be told what to do with their kids. Especially by someone who doesn't have kids of their own. It's just too easy to dismiss what they're saying because it comes from someone who has no clue what it's like to be them. But I do know how much I still remember the fucked up things my mom said to me and this lady is worse. I'm trying to talk to her and I can barely make out what she's saying because her kids are being so loud in the background. And it's every single time I talk to her. So then she's like, "Hold on, will ya?.......Shut THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!". I don't even know how to react.
Okay, I know this sounds so awful. How did I become friends with this person to begin with? Using the word friend is, well, not quite accurate I guess. Because we don't know each other very well. I guess it's a relationship which was going from acquaintance towards a fledgling friendship when it hit a rut at way too needy and I'm getting nervous and want to abandon the whole thing but feel like I'm in too deep. Yikes!
Okay. Instead of panicking and doing something I'll regret, I'm going to take it slow. I'll try to assert myself in the meantime so that I don't end up spending too much time on the phone giving advice or listening to her scream at her kids. School starts soon and I'm thinking once she has had some time to herself I could begin to let her know that it bothers me that she talks to her kids like that. Maybe. What do you guys think? Do you say anything in this situation? Okay, I'm not going to ramble anymore about this until I get some advice of my own.

Another Day, Another Application, Another Rejection

2010-08-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

The rain has stopped. I must admit I enjoy a good, heavy, dark rain every now and again. It seems like everyone slows down a bit when it rains. You don't have to feel quite so guilty just sitting around cuddled under blankets with a book when it's raining.

But the sun is out and the business of life must go on. Procrastinating here, putting off yet another application drop off. This time it's the Union Bluff Hotel in York, Maine which isn't as far away as it sounds. Southern coastal Maine dips down almost hitting Massachusetts, leaving New Hampshire with a teenie tiny coastline. So it's really only a twenty minute drive to York, I've been told anyhow. I try not to drive around too much since I STILL don't have a valid driver's license. Hence another reason I need a job. I've paid off all the fines I owed but in order to be reinstated I need a special kind of insurance called an SR-22. Anyone ever heard of it? It's bullshit. Basically everyone I talk to about it, including the court system and the insurance companies themselves, don't seem to be able to give me a reasonable explanation of what it is. The best I can tell from the mumble jumble I've been served is that it's personal insurance basically. Insurance on myself because, apparently, I suck and am not to be trusted. But no one can seem to tell me for how long I need to have this. And it's super expensive. So if I lost my license because I couldn't afford the fines does it seem probable that I will be able to afford this crappy, unnecessary, over-priced insurance? So until I can save up the initial fee to get started I have to find a job and drive there unlicensed, praying to God I don't get pulled over just a little bit longer. It's an awful feeling. The constant anxiety couldn't be healthy. But what choice do have? I'm lucky I have what I have.
Part of the reason I was stuck with Mike for so long was because I needed the car. My Mom wants to go away all the time and it's her car so what do I have to stand on there? Other than the fact that she harped at me to ditch Mike, promising all the while that if I did she would back me up until I got on me feet. But apparently I am not getting there fast enough. Shit, it's like the worst time to be looking for a job. People with Master's Degrees are applying for the same fricken Friendly's Restaurant as me. I'm not even calling ahead today so they don't have a chance to blow me off. Maybe if I dress exceedingly well and have a big smile they will give me an interview. It's for a front desk/hostess position. It would be perfect for me since I hate manual labor. Just writing stuff/typing reservations, answering phones, being polite to people - I can DO that! For sure. Perfect. I really hope they hire me. I'd much rather work there than at Friendly's. Everyone pray for me!!!!

2010-08-23T14:16:00.000-07:00

I'm so close to getting my little basement space livable. I've sent out a few job applications and I have a few more and then some places to which I'm simply sending my resume. I should have a job soon. I have an appt. at the community college in Portsmouth, NH to talk to a counselor to help me figure out what I need to do to get my A.S. in science, which should only take a year. Then I can be a medical assistant or a vet tech so I can get paid a decent wage while I finish my B.A.
I just want to save enough money to buy my own car and get my own apartment and get away from my crazy mother. She's just so miserable it makes me feel physically sick to be around her. I do love her, somehow, some way, I do. I just don't know how to take her, what to say to her, how to tune out the whining, the depression, the misery. She's never happy. I don't think I've seen her actually happy since I was a very young child. And even then who knows if it was genuine or just the poorly remembered fantasy of a child?
Anyway, I'm going to stick it out. For once, I left so many times when I was young, and then haven't been back for over ten years. So I don't care how miserable she tries to make me, I'm not leaving until I have the things I need to make it on my own without having to ask for anyone's help. I'm not going to have to rely on anyone else.

Wow, how sad is it that while putting stuff away from boxes which have been long packed I came across an old journal in which the first entry was almost identical to what I have written above. I have made no strides in the past eight years. I am still stuck, unable to take care of myself, jobless and under-educated. Oh my, how sad am I? The one difference is that I'm no longer hung up on some loser asshole with no care for anyone in the world but himself. That has to be something, right?

(Ah, what was that? A blood-curling scream from above? My mother, the only one it could be. She's alone, making dinner for I don't know who since she just saw my brother eat twenty minutes ago, but she'll still be angry when he doesn't eat anything, and I am certainly not eating anywhere near her. I'll eat what she makes cuz she'll cause a scene if I don't but I'm not sitting there so she can scowl at me and make rude comments the whole time I'm eating. There's nothing like trying to enjoy a meal in front of someone who insinuates how fat you are all the time. Anyway, only she could find a reason to scream that loud while alone in a room. I'm not even buying into it and running up there - and that is partially why she hates me. Because I don't buy into her insane dramatics.)

Even if I don't stay here very long, it feels good to take my books out and set them up on shelves. It feels like soon I will have my own retreat, my own safe, happy place away from all their shit. And they wonder why I don't want to live in a tiny room upstairs with the rest of them. I'd rather sleep on a mattress on the floor in the basement. Oh yeah, my crazy junkie brother decided he wanted the bed I was sleeping on because it was "his". And my mother told me I had to give it to him right away. That's why we're fighting today. I dared to be so bold as to suggest he needed to wait until I got my futon out of storage since I just offered to make a point to get it the other day if he needed the bed and my mother told me he said "No, It doesn't even fit in his room at his new place". So I told Mikey not to worry about getting it until he got back from his trip next week. Then on Sunday morning he decided he needed me to get it right then. I said he could continue to sleep on his futon, which he's been doing so I could have someplace decent to sleep too. No, no go. So I'm on the floor. But get this, after I put my breakfast on a back burner to sit while I dismantled the bed and put it out the top of the bulkhead door for him, he left it there! In the rain! All afternoon and night. Then my mother told my sister I left it in the rain. I handed it right to her out the bulkhead, so how did I leave it there. Does anyone think it was my responsibility to move it for him. He was supposed to be taking it right to his new place. I really can't stand my family.
Please God, let someone hire me so I can spend much of my time at work. Even work would seem like a retreat right now.
Oh, did I also mention I went upstairs to pee the other night at about two a.m. and my mom was sitting there with some random guy out on the porch. I thought she had gone out w/her friend Cynthia. Not to mention she's had this long term boyfriend, Larry who's been calling and calling and whose Volvo she drives. But she's ignoring Larry because she thinks he answered her in an insensitive tone the other day and doesn't care enough about her problems. But then the guy was still there sleeping right next to her the next morning. I think that's really vulgar behavior for a sixty year old woman. At least fuck some stranger in your own room so your kids don't have to see your two hung-over, half naked bodies draped over the furniture first thing in the morning. In fact, I think that's really irresponsible behavior for anyone of any age. That's how you get raped and murdered. I wouldn't have heard if he decided to kill her. Thank God I lock myself in the basement from the inside every night. With my mother bringing strange men into the house. Maybe it helps that my younger brother, Sam, not the junkie, just crazy, threatens every man my mother brings home with his butterfly knife. I'm not kidding, he walks around the house just flipping the f'n thing around and around. I hate it. I can't go anywhere without hearing that clink of metal on metal and not think of him flipping those damn knives.

I love it when the threat of oncoming rain at dusk makes the air itself take on color. Sometimes green, blue, purple. It's sad and beautiful.

2010-08-23T09:34:00.000-07:00

I just want to remind everyone out there that it is really important to use your directional signals when you are driving. It can help you to avoid a lot of accidents. It's a simple movement of the hand which can save you your life. And while we're on the subject of driving, people, you are not supposed to pass in the right hand lanes. You should ALWAYS pass on the left. There is a huge blind spot on the right side of a car, whereas on the left the driver can see what is coming. It seems like people these days just do not follow simple driving rules.
In fact, in this post I can discuss two peeves I have in one. Some of the worst drivers I see up here in New Hampshire are the folks who come up from Massachusetts and New York. It's like they forget or don't care to begin with that this is where some people live all the time, this is our home. They are on vacation and they feel like the full time residents are there just to serve or revolve around them. When they are not speeding excessively down our highways, they are clogging up our back roads by driving fifteen miles under the speed limit because they can't be bothered to pull over on the shoulder to take a picture of the changing leaf colors. Just remember that your vacation spot is someone else's home. And they are just trying to get to work or live their life day to day.
Okay, well, that got out a little bit of the annoyance I feel towards the world today.....

If You're not Willing to Change - You should shut up and not complain

2010-08-20T08:35:00.000-07:00

It seems to me that as a person gets older they should begin to realize that they are but a speck on the surface of earth, and earth is but a speck in the vastness of the universe. Therefore, all their personal, crappy little problems are so meaningless in the greater scheme of things that they may as well not worry about things they can't change. How does a person go through life day after day, year after year and not eventually learn what they need to do to make themselves happy? Or at least learn to be happy with what they've got? Do some people just feel more comfortable in a state of unhappiness? Are they so used to being unhappy that they don't know how to be happy?

I feel like my mother is one of these people. And her unhappiness is affecting all of us, it always has. It's why I left at such a young age to begin with and why I desperately wish I could leave now. But I have to admit I've made some brash choices in the past in my scurrying, anxious, dash to escape this place and now I have to suck it up in order to get my shit together so I can eventually live a peaceful, fulfilling life. But I have to say, it's hard, day to day to not simply explode on her, to say "Just Shut UP! Stop complaining, you have such a great life! So many people would be so happy to have what you have, you could do anything!". And I pretty much did just that this morning. I feel bad, sort of. I didn't swear, I didn't actually tell her to shut up, though she did say that to me. But I did say I couldn't take her being so angry all the time, and then taking that anger out on me. It's exhausting. Listening to her and my sister complain lately is taking up hours and hours of my day. Time I need to be job searching and finishing up my room so I can move on in this life. I need a car but I need a job to get a car and I need a car to get a job........so my mom is going to have to honor her promise to let me use the car until I save up for my own. She promised that if I broke up with Mike (therefore losing the only car we both had, bc he gets it bc he bought it) that she would help by replacing what he did for me until I could get it myself. Her family certainly did that for her plenty of times. She wouldn't...essentially she wouldn't even BE if it weren't for her mother and then subsequently the family business not entirely supporting her lifestyle. I stayed with him as long as I did because we shared too many things. I would be lost without his help for a while. And she promised to help me, something she hasn't done effectively since I was very young. She was always good with little kids. But anyone over twelve, she's lost, she has no clue what to say or do. Maybe it's just that she is such a child herself. I feel like I've been her parent for so long. To this day I have to sit there and listen to her for hours, literally, hours going on and on about my father and his lack of paying on time. They've been divorced for so long I don't even know exactly - over ten years for sure, probably closer to fifteen. Get over it already!! All your kids are grown, he has another family, he's old and doesn't really have any money anymore, does he really still owe her anything? Who agrees with her? Go on, tell me if you do, I hear her side all the time, I know the argument but I just think she should be living on her own by now, she would be able to just fine if she weren't so bad with money.
Get this, probably two years ago she buys this bedroom set. A bed, two dressers, a side table, a bunch of mirrors to go above the tables, there was a tall dresser too. It was beautiful, really, it was made from this rich, dark wood - but the problem was that it was HUGE! I mean really huge. And it must have cost a fortune, probably between five and seven thousand for the set. Like, did she measure anything before buying it? Apparently not because it totally didn't fit in her room at all. I can't believe they even got it upstairs. Anyway, she had to give the tall dresser to my brother for his room, the other two ended up covering over one of her windows once the mirror was attached and you could just barely walk around the bed, it took up the whole room! It was awful. But we all, for a full two years, had to go along with admiring how nice it was. (because if anyone criticizes her she has a fit - might even threaten suicide actually) But finally she realizes it's hideous. She doesn't realize, of course, that that means we've all been lying to her for all this time. That would require some self-reflection and thinking through an uncomfortable situation, and that just wouldn't do. So two years after spending that kind of money she decides it's awful and she can't live like that. So she takes everything out - and most of it is still sitting in our garage, getting ruined so we can't even sell it. And now she has bought a new bed (and a new daybed for the spare room while she was at it, "It was on sale Nellie" so she saved money, duh!) a bunch of new dressers, side tables, a little desk, new curtains, and God knows what else that I may or may not have seen. She even goes so far as to hide things because sometimes even she knows it's too far. And then she wants me to sit there and listen to her complain about money. But I'm not allowed to say anything about the spending, and I can't offer suggestions on how to be frugal and save - because she doesn't really want to know these things. She just wants to bitch. And I just can't take it anymore.
This week has been particularly bad. Between her and my sister who does the same thing only it's about sort of different subjects. She bitches about her lack of ability to get her own classroom her first year out of school and her boyfriend who she won't leave but who she really hates.

I'm just so sick of all these Negative Nancy's. I just want to be around people who are trying to better themselves. I'm tired of the whining. So I've gotten my whining out for the day. I have too much to do to sit around complaining. Sorry to have subjected the cyberworld to my negativity. It has to go somewhere.

Inherent Good?

2010-08-16T08:55:00.000-07:00

I was reading 'Yoga Journal' the other day which is a monthly yoga magazine my mom gets delivered to our house. She doesn't do yoga, at all, but she got some deal where she had to order a bunch of magazines, so she gets it for me pretty much. I really like it because it has a lot of good articles every month which are good at making it clear how much yoga can affect you in so many aspects of life. And it always has a section where a full sequence of postures is laid out with clear pictures and descriptions of how to carry out each pose. I feel like I learn many new things each month. Of course, I am a beginner so I have a lot to learn.
Another feature is the monthly interview. It's just a short interview on the back page, usually with someone who teaches yoga somewhere in the United States. This month it was with some guy named John Friend. Apparently he developed this type of yoga called Anusara Yoga. According to his website, Anusara Yoga is "a life affirming Tantric philosophy of inherent goodness" combined with Universal Principles of Alignment. Basically, there is good in everything and everyone and all differences are accepted. I tried to add the link to his website at the bottom of this post in case anyone wants to learn more about this type of yoga practice (sorry if it's not right, I'm not so great at that type of thing, yet). It seems like a good place for beginners because it's non-judgmental and he works mostly with alignment and it seems more practical rather than super spiritual. Not to say that the spiritual aspects of yoga aren't as important, they are. I just think that some people are turned off by the religious/spiritual aspects of yoga. They think they have to change their religion to practice; this of course is not true, but I can understand where the misconception comes from.
Anyhow, clearly this guy, John Friend, believes in the inherent goodness of all things on earth and beyond. So in this interview they ask him about his views regarding all the evil shit that happens on this planet. If everything is inherently good, what gives?

YJ: With your positivity, how do you reconcile the problems of suffering and evil in the world?

John Friend: "Everything in it's essence is benevolent, good, and auspicious. But we do actions that aren't skillful. Everyone wants to be happy, but we misbehave or misspeak and cause pain for ourselves and for others. There's karma and interconnectedness, cause and effect, reasons for everything. Sometimes things seem random and unfair. The interweavings of the tapestry of destiny and karma are beyond my view. Some mysteries we don't have to figure out. We just flow with them and respond in the best ways to connect with our spiritual essence."

So, even though he's a little whoopdy di doopty or whatever, he does have a point. I think everyone, even those who seem like they don't, have the intention of doing something good. Whether it's good for just themselves, or good for the whole, is another matter completely. But everyone DOES want to be happy. And I believe we all are connected. Because everything is just energy in different forms. So we are everything because everything is energy, right? And us as individuals are too small to see the greater picture. We can't see the whole web of human and earth energy from above. If we could, if we could see the bigger picture, I think it wouldn't seem so random and mean. I think there would be some patterns and understanding. And there is a lot to be said for the actions of humans. We often DO misspeak, or misbehave, even with the best of intentions. And that does cause pain. So to eradicate pain, as much as possible, we just need to become more aware of our actions. Right?

Sorry if this whole post is a little whoopdy di doopty. But I think it is a question we all ask ourselves all the time: Why do bad, evil things happen if there is a God? And I think people like this John Friend begin to answer that question for us. Of course, it will never definitively be answered in our lifetime. Maybe not even once we die. But we can try to understand as much as possible.

http://www.anusara.com/index.php?option=content&view=frontpage&Itemid=73

2010-08-15T09:48:00.000-07:00

I know this is going to make me sound retarded, but I don't care. I've always had help when it came to using power tools. But recently there is no one around to help me. I never had an attitude of 'I can't do something', it was more like 'why should I?'. But now I feel like I just should be able to do everything. I should be able to change a tire, whether I need to or not. Everyone should be able to drive stick (that I've been able to do for a while), be able to pop start a standard vehicle, use a chainsaw, a screwdriver, a lawnmower, things like that. Most of those I can do. But I've never really used a power screwdriver before. But I just put up a piece of sheet rock in my room to cover up a section that wasn't done. And I put up two sets of hooks!!! Whoo-hoo!! I'm awesome.

National Healthcare - Common Sense

2010-08-15T09:16:00.000-07:00

It recently occurred to me that if I were to come down with some terrible injury or illness, I would be totally screwed. I don't have health insurance. And you can't get health insurance once you've been diagnosed. And there is no way I could pay for my health care, especially for a long drawn out illness like cancer or something. This situation must happen to millions of people regularly. How many poor people are there out there who don't have health insurance? And it's easy to break a bone. Who knows when an accident can happen.
As I get older and seem to get sick more often, this has really begun to worry me. What if it turns out I have a really bad disease? It seems like only people with money get help. Or if you happen to be a cute child with e freaky new illness and you can be used to raise money. This is a terrible system. One I know that is trying to be changed as I type this. And I have to admit that I am extremely ignorant when it comes to the ins and outs of the argument over national health care. But from that ignorant standpoint, based solely on common sense, doesn't it make sense that everyone should have access to adequate health care? At least the basic emergency and preventative care? When I lived in Vermont we had a state health insurance system. If you made under a certain amount, insurance was free, after that you paid a deductible based on income. I thought it was great. It was better than private insurance. I got rehab bills taken care of, they paid for my methadone medication across state lines, and it was affordable. If it meant my taxes were a little higher, they weren't high enough to be noticeable. But the benefits were noticeable. How can people not want to pitch in to help everyone around them be healthier? Don't they realize we are all connected?

Is That What Death is Like?

2010-08-14T07:34:00.000-07:00

Over the past few days that I've been sick I've had this really weird feeling of being disconnected to my body. I was shaky and tingling as if the seam of my insides were no longer tightly stitched to my outsides. Like I was about to jump out of my skin and float away. And as I've begun to feel better I've started to feel like I'm being sewn back together. I'm more grounded and connected to the earth. And I started to wonder, this morning as I was driving back from the first walk I've had in days, is that what death is like? Is it a slow moving away from your body? Until you are completely separate. Your mind and soul are relatively intact, but they leave your body? Of course I was far from death, but I wonder if it can happen so fast that we hardly notice when we die. It's an interesting thought anyhow.

2010-08-13T16:15:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't been keeping up with me responses and stopping by to support the folks who always support me. I have no good excuse except that I've been really sick. Until this afternoon I've pretty much been stuck in bed. It was such a weird sickness too. It felt like I was going through withdrawals, except how could I be since I've been on the same dose at the clinic for over a year. They did say that added stress can sometimes make your body freak out, and I have been under extra stress lately, but really? Could stress make me feel that sick? I guess it could. But I just want to send my love and support out to everyone who is always there for me.

THANK YOU!!!

blah, blah, blah

2010-08-11T08:54:00.000-07:00

I don't even know what to write. It's been so long since I've posted anything. I feel so out of sorts, so disconnected to anything, so lost. I have nothing lately that is my own, nothing to make me feel like it even matters if I am here or not. I don't have a job, school, a purpose for waking up. And despite knowing what I want my purpose to be, despite always knowing what I wanted to do with my life, I just can't seem to figure out how to go about getting there. I feel so STUCK. It's such an awfully familiar feeling. Why can't I ever seem to get unstuck? I want a job but I have no skills worth anything to anyone. There is so much competition for the crappiest jobs. I just called a woman about a job I saw in the paper and the phone call went to badly I cried when I hung up. This was the conversation:

I call because the ad says to call the number and then the given extension. I figured I could just drop off my resume but it's kind of far and I don't technically have a driver's license (a fact everyone in my family loves to overlook. And they seem to not think it necessary to live up to the deal we made that they would help me when I needed it to get my license back. Suddenly they never have the time, money, whatever it may be when I need it. My brother the junkie or my sister the junkie, they need something, no problem. I need it and it's just so easy to say NO to me, I guess. At least that's what they actually say to me.) Anyway, this place is located just across the border in Maine, so I thought I may as well confirm that the position is still open. Before I drive all the way to Maine for no reason.

Woman: (In a gravelly, bored, and put-out tone) "This is Mary."

Me: "Hi, Mary. My name is Helen Hager and I'm calling to inquire about the ad I saw in the Exeter News about the front desk position. I'm just wondering if it's still available?" (This, obviously, is the one line I had rehearsed previous to making the call.)

Mary: "Well, have you already filled out an application?"

Me: "Uh, No, I just saw the ad in the paper today and it said to call this extension. So I just thought I would call ahead to find out first if the position was still available and if it was, is there anything particular I should know before coming in to fill out an application."

Mary: "Well, I think we're pretty much finished with looking. If anything comes up we'll call you. What's the name and number?'

Me: My name is Helen Hager, H-A-G-E-R. And my phone number is (blah, blah, blah...obviously can't put my phone number up here, right?) But maybe I could just drop by and leave my resume with you just in case something comes up and then you would have some more information about me?" (I said this because, maybe you noticed, she did NOT say the position had been filled. I got the distinct impression from her tone and frequent pauses that it had not been filled. I think she must have received a ton of applications, or maybe she just didn't want to be the contact person, I don't know. Writing the conversation so far, it seems like I'm just being crazy, because the actual words weren't mean, just her tone was so nasty.)

Mary: (first I hear a very audible "Tsk", like when you put the tip of your tongue to your top front teeth and make that tsk, tsk short sucking sound when you're exasperated or disgusted. well, that's what she did. Tsk. Sigh.) "No, I said we would call you if anything comes up."

Me: (Attempting, probably unsuccessfully to mask my shock. I mean, why can't I drop off my resume, even if the position had been filled? Maybe whoever they hire won't work out, maybe I'd be super qualified, what's the harm?) "Uh, Okay. Well, Thank You."

Then I hung up. And my mother had been watching the entire exchange so she was like, "What was that? What happened?" And I was just like, "I don't really know. She just didn't seem interested. I swear, mom, it was as if she knew who I was and she hated me." Now, logically, I know that's totally crazy. There is no way she could know me. But her voice, her emotion was so mean and abrupt. I felt like my phone call had ruined her day, put her out so totally. I should have just made the drive and dropped off my resume. Why did I have to call first? I thought for a minute, maybe I should still just go and fill out an application. They put the name of the motel in the ad. I mean, it's a fricken front desk position. It specifically said 'no experience necessary', they only pay $9/hour. WTF? Why can't I get a job at a fricken lame ass motel or gas station? What is wrong with me? Does something weird come across in my voice? The way I speak? My vocabulary? Do I look scary? WHAT is IT????

So here I am, in my half finished basement, furniture stacked here and there, no desk available to fill out applications properly (because shit is stacked on top of it) trying to fill out another application for another stupid gas station. Maybe this one will hire me to ring up cigarettes for rude people. I need to finish painting and putting my furniture back in place so I can feel more organized and easily print out resumes. I'm probably the only person in NH who brings a resume to a gas station job. Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe I come off as pretentious. So this time I'm only filling out their form application that they printed out from some program. Whatever. Maybe it'll help. I just need a job. One that I can do while I continue school so that one day I can actually have a job I don't loathe.

So, later, i guess. I need to go shower and put on make-up, do my hair, and find a nice outfit so that I can be rejected again by another place I'm totally qualified to work at.

2010-07-20T13:19:00.000-07:00

There was a study done on sheep. If you take a herd of one hundred sheep and corral them to a point where they all must jump over a stick to continue, all the sheep will jump the stick. Do the same thing again, only remove the stick for them to jump after the third or fourth sheep has passed. Even with no stick there, the remaining ninety-seven sheep continue to jump as if the stick were still there. They simply do the same as the sheep before them. True story. Sound familiar?

2010-07-17T06:51:00.000-07:00

Humanity is just so disappointing. I'm shocked, daily, by how stupid and thoughtless people are. I question regularly how people justify regulating the world the death. Why do some people think they need to protect adults from themselves? I am able to make my own choices. I am able to decide what is right for me. I do not need a parental official telling me to wear my seat belt, don't smoke, raise your children like this, act this way or we'll punish you. Why do so many people want everyone to be the same? I just don't get it. Why are so many people so scared to be different? Scared to stand up for self-expression? Scared to question the status quo? It's sad. It's pathetic. It's scary.

2010-06-27T07:50:00.000-07:00

So lately I've been doing a lot of yoga. Well, a lot for me. Certainly that is not as much as many yogis out there are doing. But it's a start. I can understand now how yoga can be responsible for weight loss and muscle strengthening. It's definitely more than just sitting around doing stretches. A lot more. Sometimes, depending on how the routine or the circumstance, I break out into a pretty heavy sweat. And although I'm not breathing heavily in the same exact way as I would doing some sort of cardio exercise, I'm definitely exerting my breath and strengthening my lungs. I'm actually surprised and amazed. I mean, I always conceptually understood that yoga had benefits. How could something endure with such high praise for so long if there were not benefits galore? But I've always had a hard time in the past finding time to fit a yoga practice into my life. I thought I had to take a class and that would be expensive, and I was working so much and making so little, it just some impossible. But finally having the peace in my life to find myself and what I really need and love has done wonders for me already. My Mom has cable so I can follow the yoga practices on the On Demand feature. And eventually, because of the help of my mother, I will have my license and a car and a job, and school, and hopefully then I can take a real class and get certified to teach. Hopefully doing it as much as I can now will give me a foundation for when I want to take it to the next level.

What I really wanted to write about though is how much yoga has helped my shoulder. it still hurts, but not nearly as much as it did before. I think the pain has been causing me to readjust the rest of my body to try to avoid moving my arm at all. So I was getting twisted and off balance. After a couple weeks of doing stuff to open my chest, shoulders, back and hips, I feel like a different body. It's like I want to do yoga right now because I feel so good afterward. It's really helping me build muscle to because you have to hold these fricken poses in, like, a lunge position. So you're lunging one way, holding your arms out and circling them about your head, all the while breathing deeply and controlled. It's damn hard. Harder than a good curves workout for sure. I'm looking forward to taking this activity further.

2010-06-25T11:44:00.000-07:00

So I was watching a movie the other day and there was a concept I found very interesting. Have you ever thought about what your last meal will be? What's the last song you will hear? Will I know ahead of time? Will I get to pick my last outfit? I know that my last outfit might sound silly, but doesn't it make you want that outfit to be a good one? The thought that what I'm eating right now might be the last thing I ever eat makes me want to make this meal awesome. And it is in a way. Fresh basil, fresh tomato and spinach, toasted on just made bread with perfect cheddar melted on top. It makes me want to make every song I listen a really great one. It just makes me want to make everything I do worth it, because if it is my last, I want it to be a good one.

An Apology Post

2010-06-22T08:19:00.000-07:00

Oh my, I have to counteract the massive purging of negativity on my part this morning. I don't take back the truth in anything I wrote. And since no one in question reads my blog, there's no feelings to be hurt. I guess that's, in part, one of the biggest reasons I use Blogger. If I get it out here, I'm less likely to take it out elsewhere. But I went to the clinic and for my morning walk, and I learned a few things.

1. It really helps for me to get out of the house and just walk.
2. It's even better if I can get myself to stop and do some stretching and breathing exercises.
3. I am not as angry after I calm myself down and relax.
4. I do have the ability to let things go.
5. I will not be here forever, this is only a moment, and moments pass.
6. I can get to where I want to. I have seen a lot of change so far.
7. I'm going to have to separate my dogs, and one by one, make the like people. I have a plan.
8. Yoga does actually change your body chemistry. It's amazing.

I know I sound cheesy. But I'm really trying hard to make this time I have here a transitional period. I'm done making excuses for myself. I have to take control and make happen the things I want. I know I've already taken strides in the right direction. I do feel empowered by the change I see in myself over time. It makes me feel like there is hope.

I apologize to anyone who may have stumbled across my angry post. I needed to get it out but I hope it didn't stick to any of you.

I am now sending out very positive, happy vibes to everyone! Thank You!

2010-06-22T03:31:00.000-07:00

I need a little reassurance. And sometimes just writing something down makes it makes a bit more sense to me. I often feel as if I am my Mom's employee, not a member of this household. She thinks we're getting on great, well except for the past few days she's been horribly mean to me because I say something about the way her boyfriend treats people. I didn't scream it, swear it, or otherwise deliver the information in an obnoxious way. I was a bit upset because he's a bully. All around, to everyone. And she knows it. She lets everyone, but me, I'm her punching bag and always have been. That's why I moved to begin with. I can't stand being the person she takes out everything on. If she's mad at my sister, takes it out on me because I won't be as mean as Lily, ever, or as loud as Lily, ever. I won't hit her like she's afraid my brothers will. But she is the one who cultivated the relationship to be the way it is with everyone around her. And then she doesn't want to fix anything, she just wants to complain. I'm sick and tired of her crap. I've been sick and tired of it since the days she manipulated me into sitting around listening to her bad mouth my father and bitterly complain about a divorce that she asked for! I'm SO MAD right now. I just, simply find my mother to be a sad, simple, pathetic woman who is angry at the world. She thinks the world owes her something for her crappy life. If you ask me, she's blessed. She has a home, money without having to work, four healthy (physically) children, and honestly, the world at her fingertips. She could do whatever she wants. But all she wants is to complain.

And when I'm around it's suddenly as if her own arms and legs don't work. Nellie do this, Nellie do that. Now I really don't mind helping around the house, but this is way beyond that. She mad as hell right now because I spent yesterday painting part of the floor of the basement I have to live in. I just want to make it livable before winter. I also need to set up a desk so I can go to school and be able to do homework. I also need to take some time to myself so I can find a job. I spent pretty much all my money on my methadone payments. So I need a job because I'd rather spit up blood daily than ask her for money. See my siblings have always ignored her bullshit, let it slip over them, so they ask, ask, ask. I've always wanted to ask her for nothing. She's the typical sour Italian woman who will give you something and then hold it over your head for eternity! I can't take the guilt, the stress, the lies. Because I think behavior like that is one big lie to yourself. You can't tell yourself what is really the most important to yourself, so you are unable to stand up for what you want. How do you get to be on this planet for 60 years and be so scared to look inside yourself?

Example: She's been wanting this oldish, 1920's type crystal chandelier. It helps to know that buying things is one of the only ways she feels whole. So she finally bought it the other day when she dragged me to the antique shop on the pretense that we were trying to find the feed and grain store. So she bought it. She got a hundred bucks off because she sort of knows the man. So she was wicked excited to hang it. And she had asked her horrible "boyfriend" to come up to help her do some stuff around the house. She probably would have gladly had me do it since he complained the whole time and took, like, five hundred breaks, but I'm not strong enough or tall enough for certain things. So anyway, he fancies himself some sort of expert, because he's got to be the cheapest man alive, on obtaining things for a deal. And unless he's the one to find the deal, he puts it down. So he's ripping on this thing that my mom bought, making her feel shitty. Saying it was worth only fifty bucks. And she's just doing nothing. Sheepishly giving him some sort of satisfaction by getting red-faced and upset while scrubbing the dirty crystal furiously to clean it to hang. And he's just sitting there, in a lawn chair, watching her work, criticizing. I think he's a poor excuse for a man. And I know she just wants help and companionship, but only when it's convenient for her. That's always sort of been her thing. Something is cool, only if it's cool with her at the moment. And you never know which moment is which. He does passive aggressive stuff like that everyday, all day long. He's snide, sneaky, and cheating. And I know, and this is telling, that my Mom though he was rich when she met him and that colored her opinion of him. She would have seen him more realistically if he hadn't posed himself as something other than what he actually is. He was RENTING a house in Westport, CT from his friends for really cheap. My Mom thought the house was fancy. Now he's living in his daughters vacant apartment while she's away since the other people came home and didn't want to share their house with Larry anymore. But at least he had my mom go down there and break her back cleaning it for him so he could get his deposit back. And she thought he had this great business until she realized it was going under and he needed money, lots of it, to stop that from happening. He's mid divorce, was fired from his last job and leaves the Volvo he bought with money he stole from his dying father at my mom's house so he doesn't have to share it with his wife in the divorce. Cool guy. I think I'll find someone just like him. And then I will stick hot needles in my eyes for fun. Sweet role models I've always had, I wonder why it's been so hard to find up from down. Anyway, I swear my Mom treats me badly when she knows something I said was right but she doesn't want to admit it. She was annoyed with him too. He's sitting under the umbrella outside while she's lugging stuff around. Of course she is crazy and doesn't know when to stop and wants everyone else right there with her. Except when she overdoes it, every couple days, and has to lie in bed puking to recover. Then she doesn't think you get to rest too, because you were her minion the whole time. Now you must serve her. Get me eggs, go pick up my medication, vacuum the house, do, do do. I'm sick of it. The family therapist says to write down everything I do, and once it equals what I would pay for rent, tell her and then anything I do over that, she has tom pay me. She didn't like that idea. I did.

Do You Like Jackson Pollock?

2010-06-21T11:10:00.000-07:00

I Know that there are very many people out there who really don't like this type of art. Although I wouldn't call it my favorite, I think there is some merit to it. Part of what makes art, well, art I guess, is that whatever it is makes people feel something, some strong emotion. And if the so-called art does this for enough people that it becomes well-known, I think that's enough for it to count as "real" art. Of course being well-known or not doesn't really matter for something to be art, it only matters if the artist desires recognition, right?
Well, anyway, I like these paintings because they are visual representations of the way I sometimes feel inside, emotionally, psychologically, just the way I feel as a piece of matter walking around. All frazzled and crazy. Not necessarily bad or not beautiful, but definitely hectic and hard to follow. A little misunderstood.

Even though this is, actually and truly, just a bunch a splatters of paint, there's something to it. I think. I like the black spots. They are like concentrations of anger for me, or anxiety, which are still all compacted while the rest of the soul of the painting is trying to break free. Maybe calm people hate these paintings because they don't ever feel this way and don't understand. And maybe anxious people hate them because it reminds them too much of themselves. Who knows? But I like them. We owe this random post to the inspirational paintings by Jackson Pollock.

Ham Croquettes: The Recipe

2010-06-16T12:06:00.000-07:00

This post is for Gledwood: What is a Ham Croquette?

I know you like to eat, you're always writing about food. So I figured I'd give you my croquette recipe to try if you would like. It's a rather inexpensive, yet tasty meal. I think you can make a croquette out of just about anything. The properties must include something mushy in the middle, covered with, like you said, a crunchy outside. In my version I grind up previously cooked ham, leftovers are great for this, and mix it with a basic white sauce to hold it together. White sauce is my new favorite thing. So simple, yet so yummy! Start with 2T butter, melt the butter in a medium saucepan. Keep in mind you can double or quadruple the recipe per your white sauce needs. After the butter is melted, the 2T of flour is added to the butter very slowly, mixing it all the while. Keep the flour/butter mixture over med-low heat, continue to stir until it starts to thicken and turn sort of golden, not brown and not too thick, maybe five minutes. Then, once your butter and flour mixture is ready, you want to slowly add one cup of milk. Add some milk, stir vigorously until well blended and smooth, then add a bit more and repeat. You want to use a whisk or something so that your sauce doesn't get lumpy. Smooth, smooth, smooth is what you want. So, it will seem considerably more thin once the milk has been fully added. That's okay, it will thicken a good deal as it cooks. Just keep the heat med-low, and stir consistently, don't let it sit too long ever or it will lump on the bottom of pot. Once it begins to thicken, I like to add a smidge of nutmeg. Now you have a basic white sauce.

I always use as much ham as I need for however many people are eating. So obviously that can differ a great deal depending on the situation. So this is where you just have to use good judgment. It's sort of like adding mayonnaise to tuna or egg salad, there's a fine line between just right or too much. You want to start slowly, add just a bit of your white sauce to your ham, mix it up and test it to see how well it holds together. You want to add some moisture, but the main goal is to have your ham be able to hold together when you mold it into little elongated, round patties. You'll want to have all your ingredients together before you get started. This includes two bowls, one for an egg/milk mixture, and another for bread crumbs. I like to use Panko bread crumbs. They're these Asian bread crumbs that are hip right now, they're definitely better than your average bread crumbs. So I usually do one at a time. Mold your ham ball, dip in egg, dip in bread crumb. I like to repeat the procedure so each croquette gets double dipped. They get a crunchier crust that way, I think. Although it's probably more calories that way. Then once you've got all your croquettes dipped and breaded, they should be stacked on a plate. You'll want to let them chill in your fridge so they firm up. Give them about half an hour. They'll be easier to fry and they won't, shouldn't anyhow, fall apart that way. After chilling, take out your croquettes and fry them until golden brown and crispy. I use a couple inches of canola oil in a cast iron frying pan.Make sure your oil is really hot before you begin frying. And they are so delicious. After I use whatever white sauce I need for adding to the ham in the beginning, I like to have some leftover to top my croquettes with. I like to add fresh peas to the sauce and let them cook in the sauce until the croquettes are ready. This is a very tasty topping. I hope you try them, everyone!

2010-06-13T17:44:00.000-07:00

Wicked good dinner tonight. Ham Croquettes topped with a white sauce with peas, roasted asparagus, and spaghetti squash. Blueberry pie for dessert. All homemade by moi. I must give my mother credit for the menu.

I'm so stuffed, I have to stop myself.

Wagon Hill Farm

2010-06-08T08:36:00.000-07:00

Wagon Hill Farm, Durham, New Hampshire. Otherwise known as my Heaven on Earth. I've recently discovered this little piece of paradise. I found it a little over a month ago as I was searching for an out of the way hiking area to take my dogs. Since they are still little demons, despite my trying desperately to retrain them and myself to be more calm and thoughtful. We all have a long, long way to go. But things are getting easier. In part, because of this place. It happens to be right around the corner from my new clinic. So it has become part of my routine to take the dogs with me every morning now, and go for a walk with them before heading home. I think the whole shebang, the walk, but even just being in the car, has been very therapeutic for them. And me. Because I'm learning that I don't need to be so tense over the dogs, and in turn, that makes them less tense too.
We have to go through a toll booth every day to get onto I-95. And at first it was terribly embarrassing because the dogs would freak at the attendant. They would start barking as soon as they saw that there was a person there. But now we can roll right through. Happy and silent. I consider that a major milestone. Whoo-hoo.

So these first two pics are what you see at the very beginning of the walk. Clearly it's an old farm that was turned into some sort of reserve. I guess I should read their info next time I visit. That will be tomorrow, I guess. So anyway, there is a big white farmhouse next to the two, upper and lower, parking areas. Then mostly fields just like this until you hit a small rim of wooded area, a buffer before the marsh, and ultimately, the bay.

You can see here the water snaking it's way into the forest.

And my incredibly spoiled dogs lounging in the marsh, soaking up the sun.

I like to sit on this driftwood log and read a book or a magazine. It's the perfect little perch.

Most of the paths are like this one. Mowed through the fields so most days I go barefoot. It's perfect. And there is a peak at my little beach. I think I could swim here once it's a bit warmer.
The picture of the tree hanging over the water reminds me of someplace tropical. I have pictures of a trip to Jamaica that look just like this. I think if I were to slip this picture in with those no one would know the difference. It's just such a peaceful place. I feel so lucky I found it. I never see anyone else there. Besides the fishermen on their lobster boats out in the bay.

And then, of course, more dog pictures. Because I'm one of those annoying, crazy people who takes their dogs everywhere, leaves the A/C on for them, puts them in little outfits and gives them hot dogs for treats.

Well, that's it for now folks. Good vibes to you all.

2010-06-07T11:55:00.000-07:00

Another day, just another day. Not good, not bad. I made some progress in the way of getting my driver's license back. Made a bunch of phone calls. The dreaded Dept. of Motor Vehicle type crap, the long, long wait on hold, all the things which make me put it off for so long were all in order of course. But I didn't let it get me down today. No, as soon as I noticed my ear aching from holding the dang phone next to it for so long, and I hadn't even spoken to anyone yet, I decided I would make use of this time so I wasn't super pissed by the time someone helped me. So I put the phone on speaker, set it down on the coffee table and got out my family's laundry to fold. My Mom is sick upstairs, which, as much as I'm sorry she doesn't feel well, gets her out of my hair for a bit. So I don't mind doing the laundry at all, especially if it means she won't do it and then get upset about it. But anyhoo, by the time a representative came to my rescue, I had folded forty-five minutes worth of towels and my sister's clothes. But I wasn't pissy with the woman, and what do you know, she was very helpful. So I guess it just goes to show that it's worth whatever it takes to try to stay calm and relaxed through all of the crap in life. Not that I am any good at it, I just know I should be. And I think I deserve a medal every time I don't act crazy. As if I shouldn't just expect for people to expect me not to be crazy to begin with.

2010-06-05T16:39:00.000-07:00

Am I crazy or does the volume get louder during commercials than during the main show? Is it really because people generally walk away during commercials and advertisers want people to be able to hear the ad from the kitchen/bathroom whatever?

2010-06-05T10:57:00.000-07:00

For so many years I didn't have television in my apartments. Not because I have any moral reasoning against it, I just couldn't afford to pay for cable. I would have if I could have. We always had an actual television, so we mostly rented movies. I love Redbox. But now that I'm living at my Mom's house, I have cable in my room. And I'm really torn. I love it, and I hate what it does to me. Or rather what I do to myself with it.
I'm hooked on all the crime shows that are on ALL the time. So I'll be down here trying to get stuff done and put the t.v. on in the background, and the next thing I know I'm sitting on the edge of the bed with my jaw hanging open in awe. Some of this stuff is so unbelievable.
There was just a show that was talking a lot of the psychology of being a victim and the guilt and shame which accompanies it. And it was just so sad and upsetting to see what had happened to some of these kids who had survived an abduction of some sort. I have a hard time understanding how people can be so disturbed.

Orange Pride

2010-06-03T13:56:00.000-07:00

Oh My, I have to share this. I'm cleaning my dungeon, I mean my room in the basement, and I have the cable on in the background. It keeps the overwhelming pressure of total silence from bearing down on me until I can't breathe. And I'm not making this up, there was a Hooters commercial that wasn't trying to solicit customers, but employees. And it was clips of a series of women stating how proud they were to work for Hooters because it helped them pay for this or that, or it taught them the "value of customer service", or whatever. And I don't really care if someone wants to work at Hooters. But let's face it, it's all about the money, not the sense of pride they feel walking through those doors every day. That's really the only reason 99% of all women who make the decision to sell their bodies do so. Whether it's only part of their bodies, or the whole thing doesn't really make a difference. It's still a compromise they're making to make the most amount of money possible. Most women would rather be able to do something else and still make what they make by baring flesh and being ogled. That's why as soon as they are able they leave to attempt whatever it was that was their goal; at least half of the women said they were proud because it helped them accomplish something else, something better, something they were really proud of. Who they hell is really and truly proud of the pile of money in front of them when looking at it elicits visions of shaking your tits in the face of a fat, greasy, pathetic man who you would much rather smack and tell "Clean yourself up, Man! Have some self-respect or you don't get to see titties like these unless circumstances involve a load of desperation and pity!".
I guess what I'm trying to say is: do what you gotta do, but call it by it's real name. Don't make it out to seem like anyone would work at a place like Hooters for any other reason than waitressing is the only thing they're qualified to do and Hooters gets better tips than Denny's. I only feel like I can write this, and no one can say I'm just a prude bitch who just doesn't get it, because I've been in the position myself where I've seriously contemplated working as a stripper or at some crappy Hooters type place. And it generally takes one to know one. And I know that in my heart I didn't smile when I pictured myself there, I cringed. Because even though most guys, or even women in some rare cases, probably go to Hooters and even strip clubs to have a good time, with no ill intent in their hearts, that is not always how things turn out. I mean...even working a "regular" type job, like a bakery, farm, or trucking company you get the weirdos from time to time who say or do something borderline inappropriate or uncomfortable. And then when you add full or partial nudity, or even in the case of Hooters, no actual nudity but a scarcity of fabric and a strong sexual insinuation, boundaries become less clear. And when it is part of your job to be very friendly, it's hard to know when to draw the line. I know that I personally put up with way more crap from bosses and customers than I would from anyone else.
I don't know, I guess my opinion is not that well thought out. I guess it's sort of like how most people are born just knowing right from wrong. It's just something you know, you feel it like it's an extension of your own self, knowledge that just came with your brain when you got it. And there is something about the way in which sex is sold these days that just seems unhealthy to me.

Wait. I have to explain something. I am NOT against the exchange of goods for sex. But it must be an even, safe, fair, and respectful trade. The purchaser must understand that they are buying something very special. As it is, people look down on the person who sells their body. In the current climate, such people are looked upon as morally loose, less worthy of respect , lacking respect for themselves, and easily disposed of. I suppose I can't really speak of what goes on in other places, but in the United States certain jobs are considered more worthy than others. In most cases, the service jobs, the manual laborers, even teachers and police, the people who really do the jobs that NEED to be done get paid barely enough to live on. While the people who are entertainers or work at jobs which have only developed as life has changed to give people more luxury and leisure time, they make more money than they even know what to do with. And we equate money with worth in this country. But those jobs could disappear and no one would die because their services are no longer. I think we need to reevaluate what is important in this country. We need to move away from our obsession with material possessions and focus on connections with ourselves, the people around us, and our physical and spiritual worlds. And if you consider such connections our purpose of living, than sex work would be considered a very important job. In a way, being a sex worker could be considered working in health care. Because all people crave physical touch, human connection. Lonely people who have no one to connect with tend to develop illnesses and die years before those who do have close connections with other people. But some people don't know how to create those connections, they need help. A lot of times it's those folks who visit prostitutes. Sure, there are the weirdos, but often it's just that they don't know how to ask the people in their lives for what they need, or they have no one to ask. Sex is a great way to alleviate stress and relax on a deep level. And many times, sex workers create close relationships with their customers over the years and even add aspects of talk therapy into their sessions. In a perfect world, sex workers would be considered well-trained healers, physical and mental. They would be respected. But they are not. And I don't think it's right to put commercials like the Hooters ad on t.v. where young girls see that and think that's the reality. It's glorifying a really crappy, demeaning job and perpetuating an overall acceptance of women as sex objects.

Well, this turned into a really long rant. I didn't see that happening when I began. I was shocked in a sort of humorous way but then I began to get kind of angry as I thought more and more of the injustice in the world. There is just so much of it everywhere I look. It can be overwhelming to think of all the things that are wrong in this world. I apologize for the harsh, judgemental tone, but the subject is very important. So have a good day, all.

Oh yeah, my title today is Orange Pride because that was, like, their thing. You know, orange is Hooters' color and at the end of the commercial they were like, "Whooo-hooo, Orange Pride, Yay!" Gag.

Hazy Tuesday

2010-06-01T09:21:00.000-07:00

Today I am happy. Not every day is like that, so I think I should really try to savor it. The dreaded brothers are at work, so there is no bitching, no messes, no pee on the toilet seat, or ashes in the sink. At least for a few more blessed hours, I hope. I hope the rain holds off so I can have a few more peaceful, quiet, happy hours. Even my Mom is still away at the moment, and Mikey is off at his buddy's house. I know I would probably get lonely, very lonely if I were to be all alone like this all the time. But I am really and truly all alone so infrequently that when I do have a solitary moment I cherish it.

Took the dogs for a good walk up at Wagon Hill Farm on Route 4, on the way to the University of New Hampshire. It's a gorgeous area, right on the bay, with a mix of woods and fields rolling down to meet the marsh. There is generally a breeze coming off the water, cutting the humidity which is common this time of year. Right this minute is no exception. The best part of the location, for me, is that it is not clearly marked and therefore not ever too populated. My dogs are still terrors; they are getting better, just very slowly. I try to avoid people, which only serves to draw out the problem. But it makes me so tense when they are all barking and snarling and jumping at passers by. I keep them on harnesses that strap around their neck and chest so I have total control over them going anywhere. But still, they jump in the air and spin in circles, howling and shrieking almost, I swear. Today, though, they didn't bark at the man in the tollbooth which is a MAJOR accomplishment for us. Generally I have to practically throw the money at them and take off. But today I stopped long enough for him to remark about the dogs and even give me treats for them. It was amazing. I'm trying to be a better pack leader, but I'm not a dog so I think I give mixed messages sometimes. But it's getting better.

Today I went in a different direction than I normally take. And it was awesome. I found a small, hidden beach with oak trees hanging over mini bluffs. At high tide you could sit in the branches which dip low over the water and feel the waves with your feet. I suppose you could even swim there. A beach on the other side of the trails is designated for swimming, but I generally prefer to be alone. And it's not often you can find a beach in the summer where dogs can run around. It was kind of magical. The property which is public runs alongside a private home and grounds. I can't imagine, well, sure I can, living in a place like that. In fact, I think I would be quite good at being very wealthy. I would really appreciate it. The whole public trail system, the whole farm I walk at, they have the equivalent all to themselves. And I have never seen a soul on any of those magnificent properties which rim the bay.

I had a friend, growing up, who lived in a mansion in Manchester-by-the-Sea. That's the actual name of the town. It's a pretty well off community on the North Shore, south of Gloucester. A lot of people I went to boarding school with were very rich, so I had a momentary glimpse into that lifestyle as a teenager. I think the distaste I eventually developed for them tainted my understanding of money in general for a very long time. It was like I rejected everything to do with having money because I thought everyone who was rich was a bad person. I know that that is not necessarily true, now. Often, maybe, but not always. Anyway, my point was to be that looking at the Manchester bay from the inside of the mansion is not very different from looking at the Portsmouth bay from the woods. Either way, for me, it is quiet and peaceful and I don't own any of it.

Anyhow, I have to get a move on. My mom is coming home in the morning and she will be much easier to get along with if I get a few more of her list items accomplished. I got some things done but it's hard when my brothers are around all weekend. And Sam had his friends all hanging around too. So I'm going to bust ass today before it starts raining. It is in my own favor to do so. Hope everyone out there has a safe and happy day. Peace.

Happy Day

2010-05-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

Well, it seems as if summer is well on its way. We've had more hot sunny days already this spring than we had all of last summer. It's looking like we're going to have a good year for gardeners. My Mom likes to garden but she has a relatively small yard in a pretty populated neighborhood. She gets plenty of sun in the front yard where she keeps a couple beautiful perennial gardens; but it would be too unconventional for her taste to plant our vegetables in the front of the house by the road. Oh, how the neighbors would talk about us then!

So we have our vegetable garden in the back yard in the space she has allotted for us. She probably would have planted a small veggie garden whether we were here or not; but I believe that us being here lends some excitement to the task for her. So I'm hoping the year will be a good one, with plenty of sun and just enough rain. My Mom ordered some rather cheap siding for raised beds and Mikey assembled them in the back yard. For some reason, though, my Mom insists on them being in a location the doesn't really get full sun. Maybe it gets about three-quarters of a day of sun, but that's about it. And almost all veggies need a lot of full sun in order to produce fruit. So hopefully we'll have enough sun for all the stuff we planted.

There is a decent herb garden in one bed with all the typical herbs present: parsley, basil, oregano, dill, thyme, sage, chives, mint, rosemary, and savory. Among the herbs we've planted nasturtium which is supposed to help keeps the pests at bay. And in addition it has beautiful, bright orange and yellow blooms. The second bed is filled entirely with types of squash. Of course we have zucchini, summer squash, and cucumbers. But we also have lots of acorn squash. My mom must have figured we would need a lot of squash this fall. We didn't get any pumpkin plants, but I think we should. And we still have time as long as they are started already in a six pack. I like ti carve designs or names into green pumpkins and when they are grown the scar remains. The third new bed is filled with cold crops, like broccoli, cabbage, and kale on the upper level, and peppers on the lower half of the bed. We have some decent patches of rhubarb and a fledgling bed of asparagus. And we couldn't go without a small raised bed, constructed two years ago, filled with tomatoes. We have mostly cherry varieties but also a couple big beef types just in case. I'm sure our neighbors, however much they despise us, will gladly accept gifts of vegetables come mid-season and we have more than we can possibly eat. I'm sure we'll have plenty to jar after giving too.

One of the things I'm most anticipating is the growth of our morning glories. They have taken to dropping seed every year and we don't even have to bother with them and they come back fierce every spring. They are practically six inches high and twining amongst themselves already. They grow so lush that they almost cover the two sides of our screened-in deck. They twist up both sides and over the top of our front door, cream centers glowing in their deep purple halos. I hold a certain regard for plants which are both beautiful and dangerous. And morning glories fit that bill with their gorgeous flowers, heart-shaped foliage, and psychedelic seeds.

It will be interesting, as well, to see if all the work of dead-heading the supposedly ever-blooming lilac bush will pay off. Apparently, if you remove the small, browning flowers that appear at the end of the spring, this variety will produce another couple rounds of fresh, scented blooms. Here's to hoping.

I've always been into gardening myself, and so I don't mind helping out. Most of the time it's pretty enjoyable. But it's a lot of work and a lot of time. It takes a couple hours just to water the whole shebang. And we had to fill each new bed. I filled one, my mom filled one, and Mikey filled one. And we all planted a bit of each. But it takes constant care to keep them kept up and producing. We still haven't even come close to mulching all our existing beds for the summer. I believe mulch does a great job keeping moisture in. It's worth the effort alone in the amount of time and water it will eventually save. But it's a big job. And my Mom is away a lot, so it pretty much falls to me. My brothers are finally working, which is great. So they're gone on weekdays and sometimes Saturday. So I don't mind doing house jobs since I'm not working. But there are just so many. My classic complaint. I can't get a single post written without bitching about housework.

Anyhow, my Mom also rented a dumpster for "spring/all the crap since she moved here" cleaning. But we only get it for a certain amount of time. So she's been on me to get everything thrown away before it's too late. But most of this stuff isn't mine since I just moved here. So I don't really know what I should throw away. I want to have a huge yard sale too, before just throwing stuff away. But even with just throwing away stuff I know for sure is crap, I've half filled the thing. And it's enormous. Since my Mom couldn't care less about any of it, I'm hoping I'll be able to keep any money I make from the yard sale and save it towards buying my own car. Once I actually, finally, get my license straightened out that is. I've been tossing a ton of stuff from the basement. And that's been making it better to stay down there. It's opening up the space and I feel like I can breathe. Getting rid of all the crap will cut down on the cost and the labor of having it remodeled. I'm trying to talk my Mom into having the basement re-done before the fall. It would be pretty nice if it were just me down there and it was just re-finished.

Well, writing of all this work that needs to be done is making me feel guilty about just sitting around blogging. The day is more than half over and I've been taking it pretty easy since I woke up. I had to drive to the clinic first thing, of course. But even that hasn't been so annoying ever since I found out about the clinic that is much closer and discovered I may be able to go there instead. It would cut down on my travel time significantly.

I hope all is well with everyone. Have a great Memorial Day. That is the holiday we're celebrating, correct? I can be a little spacy sometimes. Until next time......

Mount Hale/Mount Hell

2010-05-24T14:18:00.000-07:00

So, I still have not been able to figure out how to get my pics to go to in the order I want them. But oh, well. What're you gonna do, I guess. It's alright the way it came out.

Mike and I went for a quick hike on Sunday. Getting there wasn't quick though. We drove all the way up to route 302 in the White mountains. It took about three and a half hours and then we had to search for a place to hike because we didn't plan very well. Mike thought he knew where he wanted to go because he's been going up on a few day long hikes with his buddies the past few weekends. But he wasn't driving and he has a really bad sense of direction. So we ended up driving around for a bit before we picked a place. I haven't been to the white mountain area since I was a teenager, so I was no help, it all looked the same to me.
We ended up on the same trail Mike had been on a couple weeks earlier. Only a mile or so up the trail, though, we hit a river that was totally uncrossable with the dogs. Because, of course, we had all seven chihuahuas with us. How practical. Anyhow, Mike still wanted to cross after several failed attempts. I was up to my knees in white, rushing water. Standing upon slimy rocks in my bare feet and clasping to the harnesses of my dogs. They could make about half to one third of the way across before they encountered water that was rushing so furiously there was no way they could make it across.

So, basically, I refused to go any farther. If it was this hard to get across the first time, while we still had plenty of energy, what would it be like on the way back when we were exhausted and the sun was going down? The water was totally freezing as it was, and the dogs were already soaking, having fallen in and caught themselves on rocks, thankfully, several times by now. Mike thought I was being a picky bitch by making us drive to a different trail. But it's instances just such as that, where you know it's not the best idea, but it would be a pain in the ass to switch courses at such a late date, so you go ahead regardless of the possibly disastrous consequences. I didn't want to end up the late spring version of the people who freeze to death trying to climb Mount Washington in early March. I finally convinced him that I was turning back, with, or without him. So we trekked back to the car, loaded the dogs back up, and went in search of an alternate trail.

We finally found one nearby and I couldn't say much about it since this was already the second pick. There were no white water rapids crossing the trail at least. It was, however, straight up about two thousand feet. Maybe it wouldn't have seemed so strenuous if we hadn't had to race the sun to the top and back down again. Because we got there so late (bad planning, again) we had to hurry not to get stuck in the dark. Mike was super intent on getting to the summit. He's recently obsesses with hiking all the four thousand foot peaks in New Hampshire. One of his ole friends who lives around here is really into hiking. He hiked the whole Appalachian trail, like, twelve years ago. And Mike really respects him and is therefore adopting his tendencies after spending quite a bit of time together. And don't get me wrong, that's awesome, I just wish I didn't have to adopt those tendencies as well. I thought we were just simply going on a nice, leisurely hike. Nothing too crazy. Boy, was I mistaken. It was totally breathtaking. But not without working for it.

I shit you not, this is snow that was on the trail. It was getting towards the top, and it was pretty high up, and only late May, but it proves how high we must have been. There were places with even more. And Mount Washington, that could be seen across the way, was still covered with it.

This is a sign post for the trail we took. It was called mount Hale. It was two miles up and two miles back. But there was hardly more than ten feet of semi level ground at any one point. My legs felt like noodles.

There wasn't much of a view from the top unless you stood on that pile of rocks. Even then it could have been better after that crazy-ass hike up there. There should have been a golden unicorn at the top that flew you down to your car upon its back. But all there was was a big pile of rocks.

The best thing was that my dogs were so freakin tired from hauling up this mountain that they slept all the way back and all the next day. They were too tired to even bark at my brothers sitting on the couch when we got home. I wish I could devise some sort of pulley system to drag them up a mountain once a day. They would be so much better behaved. I don't think I could deal with that much of an incline on a daily basis. It really takes a toll on the knees.

Anyhow, I'm done with this post. I've been coming back to it for days. It's haunting me. So that's it, hiking pictures.

2010-05-10T10:35:00.000-07:00

Here are some pics of our Mother's Day celebration. I think my Mom had a really good day. Her, whatever he is, I guess her boyfriend, came up for the weekend. I made a nice brunch. All us kids, except Lily, of course, were present. And I got her a necklace she had mentioned she wanted for Mother's Day.

It must have been February when she pointed it out in a catalog that we have delivered to our house. I remember having made a mental note at that moment that it would be the perfect gift for the occasion. I was determined that was what we had to get her. But once May came around the original catalog was long gone. Of course I should have kept it hidden away in a safe place; or better yet, ordered it right away and kept the necklace itself hidden until the special day. But I'm not organized enough to carry out either one of those practical plans. No, I waited until the very last minute and was very lucky to have found the exact necklace online. I had to pay a little extra in order to insure that it would be here in time. But it was totally worth it because I think she was really happy that I remembered it.

This is a close-up of our table on Sunday. I stole some of the lilacs from our neighbor's yard at five-thirty that morning. I really hope they didn't see me. I had meant to do it the night before but I fell asleep waiting for my mom and Larry to go to bed. Then I snagged some more for a big bouquet that I put in the living room adjacent to the dining room. They were so beautiful and fragrant, the scent filled both rooms.
And lastly, this a picture of my Mom herself on the big day. I think she was happy. Of course for her it would all have been better if Lily had been there. She is the only person in the world who can be treated like shit by that girl time and again and she still sees her as an angel. I don't think I'll ever be able to accept that fact. But I'll keep trying.

All I can really do is do what I know is right and try to be okay with myself. And I feel really good about all the effort I put into celebrating an important day for her. I can only be me, right? I can't be my sister or my brothers or Mikey or my father. They are them and they are responsible for their own actions.

I hope everyone else had a good day.

2010-05-09T11:18:00.000-07:00

Happy Mother's Day!

Judgements, Expectations, and Family Ties

2010-04-06T06:39:00.000-07:00

Growing up I had a friend named Olivia. Her mother was from England and she was very proud of being English. Although she must have lived in the United States for at least twenty years by the time I met her, she still spoke with a thick accent and refused to change her vocabulary to accommodate us dumby Americans. She would always call bathing suits swimming costumes, and the back yard was a garden, rain boots were Wellies whether they actually were or not; and there were a million more that I have since forgotten. It could sometimes seem charming, but more often than not it came off as pretentious; clearly she knew that people did not quite always understand what she was referring to, and she didn't care, she just wanted them to know she was from England. She always seemed to be of the opinion that English people were more cultured and civilized than Americans. And not just some English people like herself, no, no, she thought the whole country was better. So why did she move to the states, marry a Greek man from Charleston, South Carolina and live out the whole of her life as a United Stated citizen? I think it probably came down to money, because she was obsessed with presenting her family as very wealthy and civilized. The more money her husband made from his computer jobs, the bigger the houses became, the fancier the cars, the gardens became more and more extravagant, the clothes they wore were suddenly so posh, and they were living the American Dream.

But no matter what, no matter how many years it had been, or how many good friends had been made, or how successful the family became, in her mind it still was not England so it could never be quite as good. There is a point to all this, just bear with me a bit longer. It was not just language, ideals, and possessions in America that did not live up to her idealized dream life; she made it very clear to everyone that her husband and her daughter, my friend Olivia, were not up to her standards because they were tainted somehow by too much Greekness. That seems like a crazy claim to make, right? How could I know such a thing about the way someone else feels unless they came right out and said such a thing? And why would a mother feel that about a child, much less say it outright? Why would a woman marry someone she felt was not good enough? Well, people like to think those things don't happen, but they do happen, they happen all the time. Having such a dysfunctional family myself, I am fascinated by the dysfunction of others. And the older I get, the more I realize that there are very, very few families out there that do not have some sort of issues with communication, or understanding each other, or maybe there is mental illness in the family, or addiction, or whatever it may be, they are human too. But people hide that stuff and portray their lives as perfect to the outside world, not wanting their weaknesses to show. For some people this may be fueled by competition, others may simply not want to expose their vulnerabilities for fear that they may be hurt that way. Who knows, but hiding the dysfunction of billions of families behind creepy plastic painted facades of happiness only serves to weaken bonds and perpetuate the disintegration of the family unit. But I'm running off on a tangent, my point is much simpler.

This woman had two daughters, Olivia and Eleanor. Olivia was the elder sister, my friend, and she took after her father in looks and character. She was quite pretty with very thick, dark hair and huge brown eyes. She had rich, buttery, olive skin and strong bones. But her mother would constantly make all these passive-aggressive comments regarding her coloring and her obvious Greek characteristics. She would unapologeticly compare her to her sister Ellie who had received her mother's looks. She was fair skinned, slender and had dark blond hair like her mother. And in her mother's eyes, all these traits were far more English and therefore more acceptable. She fiercely disliked her mother-in-law who was a short, round, Greek woman from the south. She was loud and boisterous, she liked to cook and eat, and she was very NOT English. She would liken her daughter to the grandmother and the father and then put them down; and Olivia knew how her mother felt about her.

Now, my Mom has always talked about these circumstances as if they were just so sad. How could a mother treat one child as if they are better or more important than another. How could her daughter's looks make her less lovable, she always cries. And over the past couple days, as I've listened to her go on and on about this family, even though it's been almost ten years since we've spoken to any of them, I've realized that she is just like that woman. And maybe it bothers her so much to think about her because she knows, however subconsciously, that she feels the same way about her own daughters and is ashamed to admit it. Projecting much?

I basically stayed away from my family as much as possible until recently. And coming back here has been a crash course in acceptance. The only way for me to move on with my life is to accept that I will never have the relationship with my mother that I wish I could have. I simply have to accept the only relationship she can offer and try to make the best of it. Trying to fight it is only making me fight with myself. I'm fighting with myself over something I want and know I can't have and it's driven me crazy for over fifteen years. My mother sees me as the frumpy, embarrassing child. I don't dress right, I don't speak correctly, I'm not polite enough, I'm too quirky, I'm too shy, and she's always told me. And my sister can be crude and disgusting, she can act like a mental patient, but all is forgiven because she fits into the picture of life that my mother has in her head. My mom wants herself to be living in a huge, antique home with a very handsome, very successful man with her very attractive, blond children standing primly around her. She pictures herself and Lily as fitting into this mold, she's delusional of course, but she has no idea that she sees herself so falsely. They are prim, and thin, and beautiful. And they act like the world owes them everything. They look like two little English garden statues. And me with my brown hair and breasts and my ass, and my crazy, unconventional tendencies simply shatters her picture perfect illusion.

I struggle daily with wanting to accept myself, because I actually think I'm pretty enough and really cool. But it's hard to stay positive and move forward when someone is constantly questioning things that you thought were fine. We went out to dinner last night, it was the last evening we had alone, and we walked to the other side of town to eat at the Exeter Inn. It was a very warm night and I had overdressed slightly. I sweat very readily and profusely if I get to warm, much of it is due to the methadone but I'm sure being overweight does not help. So by the time we got there, I was definitely sweaty and my forehead was slick with shine, my feet were slipping in my boots from the moisture I worked up chasing my mom to the restaurant. And when we walked in my mom asked me where we should sit, and I immediately said let's not sit at the bar, let's get a table in less light with less people. But no, she wouldn't have it because then we wouldn't be on display, she wouldn't be able to shamelessly flirt with someone else's date then. So she dragged me to the bar, and we sat directly under these lights that were making me even more hot and sweaty, so then I started to get anxious because I knew I looked like a wet seal on a bar chair at this point and everyone is staring and my mom is scrutinizing my skin and whining about why it's so blotchy and why don't I go get the facial she set up for me, blah, blah, blah......it got so bad I could feel my ass sweating. I couldn't even think about eating because now I felt sick I was so hot, the lights above me felt like flames and my Mom is looking at me like I have three heads, "what is wrong with you, Nellie? I don't remember you being such a sweaty person. You know, that will stop once you lose some weight". It's always about my weight or my skin, is it possible that all the pressure makes both worse? Finally she relented and let us move to a table in the corner, away from the lights and a breeze coming in from the open doors. It was the table I really wanted to begin with. But she wanted to sit at the bar because she likes to put on a show. And the whole night I knew she wished she didn't have to sit there with me. And I try and try to talk to her, to relate, but I just don't know how she sees the world as she does.

Anyway, this is a big ramble and I know to anyone reading this I probably sound like I'm seeing more into things than what's really happening. But if I went into more detail, I swear you would see that my Mom really is ashamed of the way I look and she treats me accordingly. And it makes it hard to not obsess over things that someone harps on you about all the time.

So I'm off to Curves which she made me join. I'm glad I get to go, but I don't think she wants me to go so I get healthy and feel better. I get the distinct feeling that she wants me to go because if I'm going to live near her and be seen with her I can't be fat. And I can't have bad skin. And I can't wear weird clothes. She signed us both up but she's gone once while I've gone every day. Honestly, I like going alone. I just wish she could accept me for who I am and I'm starting to consider that that's never going to happen.

2010-04-03T09:58:00.000-07:00

It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful day of the Spring season so far. It is warm, almost hot actually, and sunny with a slight breeze. Never mind that it could still snow again; the crocus and miniature iris don't seem to be too worried about it, so why should we?

Today is an unusual day because it is just my mother and I at the house. Many things have occurred in order for this situation to be, not many of them good. But still, I can't help but appreciate what is, no matter how it came about. It's so quiet and peaceful without everyone crowding into this little house, six or seven cigarettes being smoked at once, legs to step over everywhere you walk, shoes left to trip on, pee on the toilet seat, and always at least one person bitching about something. None of it, we have none of it today. Or tomorrow, or the next day....and then back to the same old.

I have yet to clearly explain why there was this trip to Virginia to be made in the first place. Oh, before I really get into things I should mention that I may have to run off abruptly as my Mom and I are heading to the mall shortly to return some china she bought and replace some and buy some more, I think. I'm just being dragged along for the ride. I better get some good lunch out of this, she said we could go to Legal Seafood, yummy, she better keep her word. If I have to lug in the boxes of wrong china, stand there and talk about china, and then lug out the new china, I should get a lobster roll for lunch, right? Sorry, I know I sound bratty and spoiled when I write that kind of thing. But it should be known that I really don't like malls, or shopping very much for that matter. I love clothes, and if I had a lot of money I would buy a ton of clothes. But I would go alone and have the people working at the stores help me with decisions, and get it done, bing, bam! My Mom loves to wander around and buy frivolous things and it drives me crazy.

But I have to go because in addition to my brother, Scooter, having to be in court in Virginia on Monday, my sister Lily has finally been asked to leave the house. And, of course, my Mom is all torn up and depressed over it. For some bizarre reason, Lily has always been my Mom's favorite. I know every parent says they don't have favorites, but they do, they're only human, they can't even help it. Some people, related or not, just get along better than others. Lily and my Mom are really similar, so it's not really surprising that they get on better than her and I. And she just has a totally different relationship with my brothers because they are boys. As far as mother/daughter time goes, she'd rather be spending it with Lily. That's okay, I've definitely begun to accept it over the years. I sort of think I know why, so it makes it easier to accept. I don't just let her buy whatever she thinks about wanting whenever, I'll force her to consider reality, and she hates that. I'm just a drag to her, I think, because we're so different. I'd rather hang out outside and drink beer or wine, barbecue, listen to music, go to the beach and smoke weed or something and my Mom just doesn't get it. It's cool though, I'm trying to be chill and just do the stuff she likes while I'm here. She won't be around forever, so if I were to be an ass and not spend time with her now, I would definitely regret it when she isn't here to spend time with. It sucks to think about, but it's true. I really wish I had spent more time with my grandmother and I don't want to feel the same about my parents. Although getting through to my father, never mind spending physical time with him, is quite interesting, to say the least.

Anyhow, I love my Mom, no matter how different we are, or how much I disapprove of the way she goes about life, or the way she deals with Lily; I have to go do some lame stuff so she doesn't freak out even worse about my sister. My sister, who by the way, didn't just get kicked out on her ass like she probably deserved. No, she is being put up in a hotel for the next two months while she finishes her student teaching and the last few classes she needs to graduate. And then, in two months time, she is supposed to have decided on a place to go next. I'm hoping that going to a shrink with my mom and my siblings will help make that happen. My Mom has a tendency to give in and give everyone a million and one chances that they don't deserve. I can totally see her letting Lily move back in after school is over. But that would negate all the progress made by having her out for these two months. We deserve to have a sane, calm existence. And she makes that impossible. Two months is just enough time to begin to feel normal again. To be able to sleep maybe. To get the screaming out of our heads. To get used to some kind of routine without having to constantly worry about when the next outburst will be. Then we deserve to have the time to try to accomplish something. Because of Lily and her craziness, the lives of four other people have been put on hold in a lot of ways. Of course, Lily is not solely to blame. We all made our own choices and my parents did a lot of damage all on their own. But as we became older, it was Lily and her insanity that has made life really hard. So to get rid of her, just to live in peace, my Mom has to pay for a weekly hotel room for her to stay in......oh, I'll have to finish later because Mom is ready.......I'll be back later, I hope...unless I die in the china store.

Another Bunch of Craziness

2010-04-01T07:38:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures of my sister at Christmas time. It's hard to believe that someone so innocent looking could be such a witch. She's really narcissistic and rageful, but you couldn't tell by looking at her, and these pictures don't really do her justice. She's really quite pretty in person, very small and pale and blond. She looks like she couldn't and wouldn't hurt anyone.

This is my Mom with Lily

This is Lily with our cousin, Emma. And then Lily, below, holding up her Coach purse she had to have for Christmas.

There has been much activity in Crazyland, New Hampshire these past few days or so. My sister is off on another rampage which always affects everyone in the family in so many ways. Living with Lily is like living with any addict or alcoholic, although drugs are not what makes her act like this, she's simply mentally unstable all on her own, without any help from narcotics of any kind. Of course the misuse of her medication clearly exacerbates the problem, it's not the sole issue here. That would almost be a relief to have addiction be the issue. At least then there is a clear problem with a clear solution. Drugs are an issue, stop using drugs, get clean, live life. But in her case, as most people who are addicts, she has more than just that issue. She is an addict, prescribed or not she takes opiates, but she also suffers from several personality disorders; that is, of course, probably what caused her to want to self-medicate to begin with. But it's getting so out of hand now, something has to be done. Even my mother is beginning to understand that it's gone too far. That's huge, Helen admitting that Lily is super crazy and needs help is a revelation for our family. We have been pleading with our mother to do something about Lily for years, and she would always blow us off by saying Lily was depressed or was more affected by the way things were growing up, my dad was the most mean to her, or that she just doesn't know how to deal with life. And she would make sacrifices so that Lily could finish school, promising that as soon as she finished that semester she would have to move out, but of course that would never happen. And it would just go on and on. We couldn't do anything ourselves without the support of our mom, she was the owner of the home and the only one who could say "Get out" and mean it. But finally, after twenty-five years of manipulation and anxiety, my Mom has had enough. She's getting too old to deal with this crap. She's done her duty for her children and it's time for her to be able to live her life for herself. Whatever it was that broke the camel's back doesn't matter to me nearly as much as the fact that it has been broken and we may have a possibility of living in peace in the near future.

My Mom is listening to people tell her about having a person who is an adult sectioned. I'm going to have to look into what, exactly, that entails. I have a lot to do today, but tonight I'm going to try to do some research on what that would mean for all of us. Maybe it could help other people who have someone like Lily in their own lives. From what I've heard in passing so far, my understanding is that the police and judges get involved and basically force the person to get help from a mental health hospital. But the person has to be proven to be a danger to themselves or others. Lily is definitely a danger to others, and without a doubt there is a major likelihood that she could hurt herself acting the way she does. Maybe it would be the best thing for her, she would finally get in depth therapy and there would be no point in lying to her doctors because they would already know it was pretty bad if she had to be sectioned to begin with. Because she is so manipulative that her doctors now just buy into her crap and prescribe her whatever she wants. It's crazy how the way someone looks can be so deceiving; blond hair, blue eyes does not an angel make. But men in particular are very susceptible to her wiles. She flirts a little and this man prescribes suboxone, an opiate replacement medication, to a young girl who has really had no history of opiate abuse to the degree that she should need that type of medication. She got him to give it to her because she still gets high from the crap. Someone like me or my brother, who shot dope, we don't even feel it, it just blocks our receptors so we can't get high. Well, methadone is what I prefer to take, and do take, but it does the same thing as suboxone. But my sister never did enough heroin or opiates in general to make her need replacement therapy. She uses he script to get fucked up everyday legally. She sniffs a chip of suboxone every couple hours or so. The sniffing makes it hit her just as hard as sniffing dope, how is that any different from just using illicit drugs? And then the idiot doctor gives her a benzo script too. That's, like, a really bad combo which can be totally lethal. If she were to take a bit too much of a mixture, her heart could stop and she would die. And she has a history of having a bad reaction to benzos, they make her crazy. So my Mom is trying to call her doctor now to tell him she is misusing her meds, and she's given her the option to stay here at home and go to a really in depth therapist who does, like, four hour long sessions. It's that or she needs to get out as soon as she graduates. And she doesn't want to go to the therapy, so hopefully my Mom will stand by her word.

I'm actually hopeful that things may be different this time. My mom made an appointment for her, my brothers, and myself to go to a family therapist and she's promised to do whatever the therapist tells us to do. And I know that the therapist is going to agree with us and make my mom stand up for herself. Having an adult, mental health professional say it like it is could be just what my mother needs to hear. She thinks that we are just biased and being mean sometimes, but having an outside source back us up could be the catalyst we need to make a change. Especially because we have a lot of Lily's outburst lately recorded either by video, audio, or a combo. It's hard to lie when the actions are right there in front of you on a t.v. screen. There will be no denying the level of crazy once we're in an office away from the mayhem. It's easy to want to downplay it when it's not actually happening. It's easy to not want to think about the problem when you're away from it because there is so little time in life to be peaceful when you live with a crazy person, you try to take what you can get. But that ends up biting you in the ass because then when it happens again, which it inevitably will, you haven't set up any supports for yourself and you're just stuck in the same cycle. Having her actions taped makes us unable to downplay it after the fact as not that bad. It IS that bad, and we need to remember it and do something.

Lily got into an argument with my brothers last weekend, and for the rest of the week it has been a disaster. She and her boyfriend were sitting on the couch in the living room, lounging around, chain smoking cigarettes, food and glasses all over the coffee table, being basically loud and obnoxious as usual. And my brothers came out to get some of the breakfast I had made for everyone (eggs, potatoes, danish, etc) and there was none left because they had taken huge portions and didn't wait for everyone to have some. So that wasn't even the issue, it got worse when Rob started talking about how he was going to take out the kayak that we all got for Christmas next weekend. And my brothers were like "No, you're not taking that out before anyone in our family takes it." And they were kind of getting annoyed and one thing led to another and Rob jumps up from the couch and puffs his chest up, sticks out his chin and is towering over my brothers now. He knows that was a confrontational move, he knows my brothers don't appreciate him using his height to attempt to intimidate them. Sam and Scooter are not very tall but they are very strong. Especially Scooter, it's unnatural, he can eat whatever he wants and he never gains weight, he stays fit beyond believability. And he's beat Rob up already on several occasions when Rob has challenged him. So it was just a bad move. Clearly, things were slowly getting more and more physical. Rob stands up, they move forward, and the defining moment came as my sister kicked her foot out at Scooter's head and he catches it with his hand. At the same moment, with his other hand, he flicks a lit cigarette at Rob. Sam notices that the cigarette landed on the new couch cushion and reaches for it, passing by Rob in the process. Rob mistakes this gesture as a move toward him and flails out a fist towards Sam, this creates an instant reaction in Scooter and he jumps on Rob and puts him in a face-reddening headlock. Now my sister is screaming for them to get off Rob and my mom and Larry (oh, yes, Larry was here for the weekend as well. Although he was surprisingly easy to get along with this time. I'm actually glad, for my Mom's sake, that he was here) come running down from her room upstairs and join the melee. So now both my mom and my sister are screaming their heads off and Larry jumps on Scooter, putting him in a headlock. So it's a big pile of men in headlocks, flailing around on the couch, until they must have become tired out and they separated. But not before Lily had called the police, again. It's her favorite thing to do, yet it always seems that she gets herself in more trouble than anyone. At this point the police in Exeter know my sister is insane. But they have to come out to make sure no one is hurt once they get a call like that. So Saturday at Noon we have two cruisers parked outside our house, Lily is screaming bloody murder so loudly that all the neighbors must have thought she was being murdered inside. It was totally humiliating, yet they left without doing anything about her, once again. She can drive through town in the middle of the night with no headlights on, all wacked out on benzos and they let her go, they catch her with weed and let her go, she smashes her car and gets away with it, when is it going to hit the fan? When is she going to be held accountable?

So after the cops leave, Lily goes crazy because my brothers weren't arrested because Rob didn't press charges because my Mom told him he would never step foot in this house again if he did. It was hours and hours before she stopped screaming and smashing things. They dogs ran and hid in the bushes behind the house because she was freaking them out so much. And now Rob isn't allowed back in the house, for now anyway, we'll see how long that lasts this time. He's always never allowed back, and then there he is, smelly feet, loud mouth and all the very next morning. Lily sneaks him in at night and my Mom doesn't want to create more problems so she says nothing. Lily has the ability to drag something out longer than anyone I've ever met. I don't know how she has the stamina to stay angry for so long. I feel so emotionally drained after just a short time of being angry about something. I actually become physically tired when I've been upset for too long. I just don't know how she manages not to collapse after being so angry and dramatic for so many hours and days in a row. But manage it she does. She's the Champion of Grudge Holders, the Queen of Condemnation, the Czar of Revenge, she never lets anything rest. She never passes up an opportunity to make a scene, and it's quite exhausting honestly.

I think my mother really knew that something was wrong, beyond what she had been previously willing to accept, when Lily began to use feces in her revenge plots. Yes, you read that correctly: feces. The first time, she simply picked it up with bare hands and flung it at Scooter's door to his bedroom where it splattered, hung, and slid down the white wooden door. It should be explained that she came by the excrement due to the fact that our mini little rat terrier becomes so terrified by her that she shits herself everytime Lily screams. So Lizzy had just crapped on the hallway floor when Lily happens by and an amazing idea popped into her pea-sized little bean brain and she scooped up the poo and flung away. Then, she must have been so pleased by the horrified reaction of all who were present and she added it to her repertoire of hideous go-to revenge tactics. She decided that it would be better if the person didn't know the shit was there and just smelled it, not knowing from where it came. She stuffed it under doors so people would step on it when they opened the door. She's really gone bonkers. We can't leave our bathroom products in the shower because she'll pee in mouthwash and shampoo or spit in body wash. We're not sure of our food is safe. How can people live like this?

Sorry if this post was all over the place and hard to follow. I'm just so stressed because you never know when she's gonna blow. So we all walk on eggshells. When is she coming home from school? Will she come in screaming or crying? Will she start problems later tonight? Will it be a good night or a bad one? It can take a lot out of a person to be so anxiety ridden all the time.

Anyway, on a positive ending note, I'm really hyped about joining Curves. I think it's really going to help me to lose weight finally. I really need to not be so fat. I can't wear anything properly. Everything I own is too tight or too baggy and I just look ridiculous. But it feels good to get some exercise and hopefully I'll start to see results soon.

2010-03-31T11:07:00.000-07:00

Wowee, sorry it's been such a long lull between posts. Not like my opinions and thoughts keep the world turning or anything, but, you know, I would prefer to be consistent. I'm just popping by for a moment to let people know I'm still here. I've been super busy. Most days I get up no later than six-thirty and I stay busy all day. My Mom just paid for her and I to join Curves, we went today for the first time. I'm so overweight so this will be really great. I was really into it. I think it was a little hard for her, but it will be good for her the more we go. I'm going to try to go everyday, but they're not open on Sunday, and I can't walk there, so we'll see how things work out. I think it will really help me get in shape.

So anyway, I need to get going because I have a lot of baking to do for Easter still. My siblings eat whatever I make almost as fast as I bake it. It's driving me crazy. I think my Mom is going to try to store it at the neighbor's house until the week after the real Easter when we'll be able to celebrate. We have to celebrate on the week after because my Mom and brother have court in Virginia on the 5th. That's lame but unavoidable, I guess.

So, until later......

My Weekend in Westport with the Misogynistic Tyrant

2010-03-23T07:36:00.000-07:00

It's supposed to be APRIL showers that bring May flowers. There's supposed to be snow still melting in March...... I'm back from the weekend in Westport. However, I've been rendered speechless the past couple of days, unable to relate the horrors of my trip until now. It was so bad, I don't even know how to begin to explain just how bad it was. So bad, so, so bad.

This past weekend was just the third time I met Larry Lieberman. Yet, one looking on as a fly on the wall, would have thought him my horribly overbearing, slightly mad, father. Or worse, a step-father who now feels it is his duty to discipline the much too old children of his crazy lover. From the moment we arrived, until the moment we left, this man had only one of two expressions; he was either creepily smirking, or frowning with frustration.

I can't believe how much work my brother, Scooter, has done for them down there, basically for free. It's really crazy, actually. This man started a business the same year he separated from his wife and was fired from his job. Now he's trying to get not one, but three businesses off the ground; and not a single one is closer than a hundred miles to any of the others. Does this make sense to anyone so far? Probably not, but wait, it gets worse. His previous job was, supposedly, as floor manager or something along such lines, at Macy's in New York. Whoop-dee-fricken-doo, you'd think he had been Vice President of the United States the way he puts on airs. I'm really, quite frankly, not surprised he was fired. He's a technological moron of ridiculous proportions. He doesn't even know how to set up his own e-mail. He just recently bought a digital camera one of the weekends my brother was down there acting as his indentured servant, and Larry hands him the newly purchased camera and tells him to go put it together. What, I ask, does he think there is to assemble? Basically he wants everyone to just do everything for him. But how does that work when the task comes down to simply being able to understand something? How can I know or understand something for someone else? I can't just carry the knowledge around in my head until he needs it then simply ESP it to him or something. But that's what he wants, really. That's what he wanted from me when it came to setting up their eBay site. He wants what he wants, and he wants it NOW. I can't believe he worked there for as long as he did. His personal skills are virtually nonexistent. He doesn't listen to a word anyone else says. He doesn't communicate his expectations, he communicates only when his absurdly unreasonable expectations haven't been satisfactorily met. Let me try to prove my point.

We arrived at Larry's rented home at approximately eleven-thirty on Thursday night. We had driven almost four hours from Exeter, after Scooter had been landscaping for his actual real job all day. I had been at home getting everything settled for our absence; buying groceries, cleaning bathrooms, doling out allowances, packing my own things, taking the dog to the vet, et cetera. Basically, it had been a long day and we were ready for it to end. Upon our arrival at the house, we realized that Helen (my Mom) and Larry were out. Fortunately, Antoinette, the woman who acts as a maid but who is really a home care giver with her BA (that is for later in the story) was home and awake, and she let us in to get settled. We had only been there for about ten minutes when Helen and Larry showed up with some groceries. I had spoken to my Mom earlier and she had said they were totally out of food because there had been a storm earlier that week that caused the power to go out; so she had given most of the food from that trip to Antoinette so it wouldn't spoil. So I was glad she had gone to the store that night rather than waiting to the next day like she had originally planned because we were starving. Already, though, Larry was disgruntled because he felt that it wasn't necessary to buy more groceries that night, or at all; so we started off badly because he felt put out I guess. Even though it was my mother who actually paid for the groceries, for us, specifically, to have stuff to eat while we were there. But you could tell he didn't really want us to touch anything. My Mom kept telling us we could eat whatever we wanted because she paid for it, and then he would say things like, "Who ate all my shortbread cookies?". When there were plenty left and they weren't just his at all, he's just so greedy he can't deal with anyone else using up anything. Actually, is it accurate to label him greedy, or should it be cheap? Or both? So, right off the bat he's pissed that my Mom spent money on food for us.

Then, as we're finally getting ready for bed, around midnight, my brother, who had been there before and knew more than I, called out to everyone in general, "Let's not rush out of here in the morning, it's been a long week for me". And how does Larry reply? "You're going to be getting up with me first thing in the morning to get started." Scooter didn't even say anything back. He knew there was no point because it would just be an argument, I guess. Plus, he knew he was driving me to the clinic, so Larry would just have to deal with that. And that is where things really began to turn sour.

I had assumed that there would be WiFi access at Larry's house. It's in Westport, CT, and I figured everyone has Internet nowadays unless you live in the boonies and they don't have access. It just didn't even occur to me that he may not. So I had the address for this place in my computer. All I had to do was get to a place with WiFi; which anyone, who hasn't been living under a rock, would know can be done at any Dunkin' Donuts, McDonalds, or roadside pullover in major cities. But Larry, apparently, is a rock dweller because the man was clueless. He kept asking where the clinic was and I kept telling him that I needed to get on my computer in order to tell him. But he just wouldn't hear that. He kept asking me names of places and asking me if that was familiar. He was listing street names as if I would remember if I heard it. Despite the fact that I had repeatedly told him that I rely entirely on my laptop and I would not recognize the street name because I didn't read it, ever. I wasn't planning on caring until the moment I typed it into the GPS. But the man had clay in his ears. He pulled out a CT phone book and proceeded to bully me into dialing random doctor's offices in Norwalk (where the clinic was located) to ask if they were the clinic. Now, anyone on methadone knows that health care professionals who do not deal with methadone regularly, do not respond well to being asked about it. So he's standing over me, waiting as I ask these random medical receptionists if they know where the Norwalk methadone clinic is. And they're answering me like I'm crazy and really offending them. And this whole thing is making me more and more frustrated by the second. I've told him that I can find it just fine, and that calling all these places is just a waste of time because I can find it on the GPS in, like, five seconds. If he would just let us get going, we'd be back in less than an hour, or we could meet them at the store or wherever. But the man is relentless. Finally, I'm sweating profusely, my face is getting red, I feel sick to my stomach, I want to throw the phone at him; but I walk into the bedroom with him lingering at my heels and I motion to my mother that this has to stop. I'm facing her trying to make a distressed face and the cut-off/stop this motion with my hand swiping across my neck, like "kill me". She does get my point, thank God, and tells him to stop making me call random doctor's offices and let us just get going. He was, as you can imagine, not pleased with me for that. He's the type of guy who does not like to be wrong, especially when the person correcting him happens to be a women (more on that later). I could feel him fuming from the other room, I should have known at that moment that there was no repairing the rift that had been created by me enforcing my will over him, however minutely.

Then, after all that, he decided that HE wanted to drive me to the clinic because then Scooter could get started right away on the chores he had lined up for him. Get this, he planned for my brother to landscape the yard of the home is currently trying to sell with his not quite yet ex-wife. And Scooter has already done other work at his house, he took down his kids' childhood tree house, he cleaned asbestos out of the basement for a day before my Mom found out and put an end to it, and that doesn't even begin to cover the work he did setting up this guy's store. So, anyhow, more on all that later. Right now, I'm trying to write about this guy wanting to take me to the methadone clinic in the middle of this shitty part of Norwalk so my brother can do more work for him. I should mention, also, that it is eight in the morning, and his store doesn't actually open until ten. All his actual employees show up around ten fifteen and take their sweet ass time getting set up; but we, for some unknown reason, have to be there as close to the crack of dawn as possible. He seemed not to accept the fact that we were there for our mom, to see where she lives down there, to check out this business she's dumping money into, and most important, to get to know what this guy she likes is all about. And so far, he's making a really poor impression.

But we finally convince him that it would be best for Scooter to drive me and that we could find it, no problem, once we got to a place with WiFi and those are everywhere. It was like trying to convince someone that worms talk or something. He was dumbfounded by this talk of these newfangled devices called WiFi, Internet, Cell phones, Digital, GPS, it was like he'd rather we took a horse drawn carriage everywhere, for crying out loud. We didn't so much convince him as insist that that was the ONLY way it would work. And as I have said, he was not accustomed to a young women being so assertive and sure of what she wanted. I was being polite, but he was really getting on my nerves. At that point, however, I was still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. I kept telling myself that he'd been through a lot recently and he's was under a lot of stress. But the more I saw him in action, the more I thought he was just an ass. A pompous, misogynistic, self-centered, classist, sexist, greedy, delusional ASS!

I really have to end this installment of the Tale of the Dreaded Westport Weekend. My Mom is finally home and despite how angry I am at her, my brother convinced me, after a little while of being stand-offish with her when she returned, to keep it to myself because she would eventually figure out what an ass he(Larry) is on her own. He and my counselor both said that. I can't make her see this man for what he is. She already knows he treats her terribly, and she's acting the same way she has with so many other pathetic men she's had in her life. It's this shit that made me leave so young to begin with. I often feel as if I stepped out of this house just yesterday, that I may as well still be seventeen because so much is the same. I wanted to believe she had matured, like the rest of us have to some extent. We're all trying, some more successfully than others, to grow up. I guess she's trying too, because outwardly she seems to have changed for the better, at least somewhat. But she just still makes these hideous choices. I'm hoping she will see, in time, that she doesn't need this guy trying to control her. I can't wait to write about the way he treats women. I just promised I would start (and finish) to bake all the Easter stuff. She wants anise cookies, all these Easter breads, sugar cookies, sticky buns, I didn't even look at all the recipes yet. I'm going to be cooking for days. But I owe her, especially since this thing this weekend didn't work out. I'll fill in the details once I have more time. And I'd rather bake than do other things. At least I like baking. And I'm really perfecting some of these recipes, so I can make them for my own family some day.

Anyhow, it's snowing here today. It's going to be a good day. Despite the angry tone of this post, I'm feeling fine today. I didn't write about this weekend until it was processed somewhat for me, so the anger is more what I felt over the past few days. But now I'm just documenting it, and then moving on.

Just Another Day

2010-03-18T07:12:00.000-07:00

Well, well.....after a whole, entire, gut-wrenching day of searching for this dang dog....and Mikey locked him in the frickin garage. I could seriously smack him silly for it. I must have asked him five million times if he remembered letting the dog upstairs or outside, because Chili is definitely his dog. There are some of the others who have bonded more with me, but Chili isn't one of them. I mean, he'll sit with me, and come when I call, but he's Mikey's little guy through and through. Mikey gets way more upset than I do when he runs off, but he still doesn't pay enough attention to him when he takes him outside or upstairs. It drives me crazy. I'm constantly telling him that he can't just let them out in the yard and come back inside to make coffee or whatever, you have to stand there with them so they don't leave the yard or go running off after someone's dog. Granted, I should have checked every nook and cranny in the house as well, I can't believe I didn't, I feel SO stupid. But Mike was so convinced that someone must have let him out whether they knew they did or not. He waited until it was almost dark and we'd been searching the town all day before he mentions that he went in there that morning to check on his glass and Chili was with him! Why didn't he check there first, knowing he'd gone in there. I'm so annoyed with him, as usual.

It's embarrassing to have to tell neighbors that you lost your dog, they think you're so irresponsible and thoughtless. And we called the dog officer and the local SPCA, and then you have to call them all back and thank them and tell them you found the dog. It just sucks. It took over the whole day because both Mike and I worry so much about our animals. We really are good pet owners, they get treated better than some people's children, for sure. But sometimes circumstances arise which are out of our control. But people are still very judgemental.
The stressfulness of the day was only exacerbated when we realized, shortly after we noticed Chili missing, that Seneca (our other and oldest dog) had done something to his right front paw. It looked as if he just broke his nail on something and busted his paw, but he was limping around and would screech if someone attempted to touch his paw. So we had to take him to the vet and couldn't look for Chili right away, at least not as thoroughly as we would have liked. So that probably contributed to making Mikey forget about going in the garage and messed up our search making it so much longer. It was just a bad, crappy day with a lot of stress over the dogs.

If Mike could just pull himself together and act like a man about shit, life would be a whole lot easier. But he's such a baby about everything. It's humiliating to deal with him when he acts like that. I called the vet beforehand to obtain directions, just to try to make things easier so we weren't searching for it with all the dogs in the car. Because we didn't just take Seneca who was hurt, we also had to take three of our other dogs because my brothers freak out if they bark while we're out. So we took three with us, put two in their kennel because it only fits two, and left one out because she's good; and Chili, of course, we thought was missing at the time so he stayed in the garage. So, we're all stressed about the dog missing, and Seneca is hurt, and the dogs are all stuffed in our little Honda Civic and we're on our way to the vet, just across town. It's not the regular vet my Mom goes to, either, because she refused to change vets when she moved and her vet is, like, over an hour away. So that was out for sure. No way was I going to haul us all that far away. So I found a different vet, in town, which is why I had never been there before. So Mike decides he's going to look up how to get there on our phone GPS thingy, which sucks and never gets us to the right place. And the stupid thing is telling us that the vet is right in front of us on the Exeter side of the highway, and I'm telling Mike that there's no way because I called for directions and the woman, who was IN the building told me that it was on the other side of the highway, in BRENTWOOD. Hence, the name Brentwood Country Veterinarian Hospital. But he's like, "NO, NO, NO it HAS to be here! The red dot is saying it's RIGHT here!" And I'm like, "Those fuckin' things are wrong all the time. It's just a satellite or something and it's just getting you sort of close. It sucks man, listen to me, the woman said it was OVER the highway. She made it very clear. It's a big green farmhouse, with a big red BARN, do you see a barn anywhere near us? Hum, DO YOU SEE A BARN?!?" And he just won't give up, and he's driving onto little side roundabout streets into office parks and shit all, "IT MUST BE HERE! It's telling me it's here!" And I'm finally saying to him, "Then you call her, you ask her what she meant if you're so convinced it's on this side of the highway." And after yelling at me that there was nowhere for him to pull over to use the phone and why didn't I just call her; and he's driving like a total asshole, pulling u-ies (is that how one would spell such a thing? You know what I mean), he finally calls the office himself. And of course, unsurprising to myself, she explained that they were, indeed, located on the OTHER side of the highway. That he needed to drive a bit further than he had gone the first time." And when I said, "Well, there now. Why can't you ever just listen to me, man. If you ever listened to me, we'd be there, and we wouldn't be this upset, there was no need for this. I think you owe me an apology." Do you think he gave me an apology? Oh, No. He actually had the nerve to continue to blame it on me; because I should have been more definite and sure about where we were going and I would have known that it was further than a mile down the road on the opposite side of the overpass. Because he did drive over the bridge just less than a mile initially, just to try to prove I was wrong. But the way the road is, with all the trees and houses, you can't see ahead very far, and they were basically just around the corner. How annoying is that? He does shit like that all the time.

With the way he acted on the way there, and the way he acts in general, in public, I didn't want him to come inside the vet office with me. So I made it seem like I just thought he should wait with the dogs outside because it was pretty hot yesterday. So I brought Seneca in and got him all signed in. No sooner was I inside the office with the doctor than I hear him out in the reception area harassing the receptionist. Asking her questions about the cost of this and that, and what about advantage, and what about the tracking device you can put in the dog's ear, he just goes on and on. He tells everyone everywhere we go that we're opening a head shop. Now that's fine, if you happen to be speaking to your target audience. But when the person you are conversing with is, say, a very elderly woman who clearly does not smoke weed, and probably doesn't even know what a head shop is, just spare the poor woman the confusion. You should see some of the looks I get when he's talking to people. He'll tell them really personal information they didn't ask for, or the worst is when he asks someone for help in a store when I already know what I want and where it is, I'm just still deciding. Like I'll be looking at the meat, thinking about what I should get, and he'll go to the butcher counter and make someone come out and stand there and tell him about each cut and ask a MILLION questions, it drives me CRAZY. And I can't even go anywhere without him because I don't have my drivers licence. Dear God, I hope I get it back soon, it's all a matter of money at this point. As soon as I pay up, I'm good to go.

Man, I have to stop bitching today. I have so, so much to do today. My brother wants to leave to get to Westport tonight at six. So I have to get the house all cleaned up so that it's not a disaster by the time I get back on Sunday with my Mom. I mean, it will probably be a disaster anyway, but at least I'll know I did what I could. But besides cleaning up the whole house, I have to get myself ready too. I really should go to the storage unit where all our crap still is from when we just moved, I need to get some clothes. I only have a small bit of my clothes out because we're staying in the basement, which really sucks. It's not really refinished; it's not dirt or anything, but it's not a real living space either. We're supposed to be refinishing it slowly, but it's going much slower than anticipated because it's expensive and time consuming. So we've made a bedroom size area as livable as possible, and it's alright. It's livable is what it is. But dreary and dusty and I don't want my clothes down there until it's all painted and stuff. But if I'm going to be working in my Mom's store I guess I need some nicer clothes. I've been told this Westport place is kind of fancy, it's, like, all mansions and rich people. We'll see. Last time my brother was down there, that girl that was in that show Sabrina, The Teenage Witch came in to buy mirrors or something and Scooter waited on her. That's kind of weird. I wonder if I'll see anyone famous?

2010-03-17T13:46:00.001-07:00

I have a six year old Chihuahua and he's always been a really easy dog. But lately, since we moved here, he's been taking off and disappearing for hours at a time. He's been neutered for years, so it's not those hormones responsible for his yearnings. I don't know what's gotten into him. We take him for walks, maybe we should take him out more, but he doesn't like the snow, or rain, or the cold, so it's a little hard to get the best exercise all the time. And it just stopped raining after days of gray and drizzle. But just because I know why he would want to run off doesn't mean I'm not extremely stressed out by it. I worry mostly about him getting hit, or stolen, or, at best, picked up by the dog officer. It really ruins my day/night, whenever it is he decides to take off. And it's not as if I can just explain to him how terrible and dangerous it is for him to do. He's probably just running around in the woods behind our house, but he got lost last time he did this and we found him roads away from our, just aimlessly wandering it seemed. It just really worries me that he won't come back, ever, and I'll be left wondering what happened to him and if he suffered a lot. I feel like it's our fault he got out. But nobody let him out this time, he just snuck out when someone opened the door. I really don't know how he got out without anyone noticing. I just really hope we get him back soon.

2010-03-17T08:45:00.001-07:00

Happy Saint Patrick's Day

Nantucket Dreamin'

2010-03-17T05:43:00.000-07:00

Today's inspirational visuals are of Nantucket Island. I admit I have never yet been to Nantucket. My parents, for some reason, were into Block Island instead. Block Island is definitely nice, in fact, I've been told it's quite similar to Nantucket. But still, Nantucket is where I want to take a summer trip this year.

I Love the ocean, the beach, the atmosphere of a small, vacation oriented island. The pace of life is slow and no one expects for you to hurry.

There is something calming about the sound of the waves and the smell of the water. And the breeze makes sleeping by the ocean in summer so comfortable.

This is an aerial view of the Island. It's quite small, isn't it? I think it's bigger than Block Island though. I've always wanted a black Vespa to drive in the summer. I'd drive it to the clinic and the grocery store, even. As long as it wasn't raining, I'd drive it anywhere. I love those things, and they're way better than a car on gas mileage.

I thought that maybe I should learn just a little bit about the place before I decided I had to visit. Makes sense, right? So I thought I would share what I learned with my few devoted readers, just in case anyone cares, or is perhaps planning a Nantucket vacation.

Nantucket is, without a doubt, a summer destination. There are, certainly, a small number of year-round residents who enjoy the quiet, isolated winter months. Just about ten thousand people live there through the winter, a population that swells to over fifty thousand come summer. According to recent census information, there are only about four hundred students attending the high school in Nantucket. That's about the size of my high school, back in the day. And let me vouch for the fact that it is quite a small number of kids. It gets pretty cozy pretty fast. It's really expensive to live on the island, as you can imagine any island would be. Simply due to the fact that everything, and I mean basically everything, has to be shipped in by boat or plane, the prices are quite a bit higher than they would be on the mainland just thirty miles away. Therefore, the majority of actual residents are quite wealthy. There are a good number of celebrities who own homes on the island. I hope I can even afford a hotel there for a long weekend.

I've always been fascinated by history, mostly the history of people and the way they settled the land, one people always displacing another and then claiming ownership. And it is no different with Nantucket. Not surprisingly, Nantucket was mainly populated by Wampanoag Indians until the English began to sail by, taking notice, around the early 1600's. Traditionally, it seems as if the Wampanoag and similar local tribes spent just the summer months on the island, doing a lot of fishing and eventually harvesting whales that washed up on shore, then returning to the mainland for the winter. But as the mainland, around Cape Cod, became more, and more densely populated by Europeans the Indians began to make Nantucket a more permanent home in order to flee the unwanted influx of immigrants. They lived mostly undisturbed, in relative peace, until around 1641 when Nantucket was sold to Thomas Mayhew and his son by English authorities. It was about this time, similar to neighboring Martha's Vineyard, that this area south of Boston became a popular hub for fishing and whaling.

The real population boom apparently came around 1659, when Mayhew sold his interests in Nantucket to nine original investors. This is when sea merchants and whalers truly began to invade the island, displacing the native populations once again. Nantucket then remained a major port until the 1850's. Decline occurred due to a convergence of circumstances, some of which affected just the island, and others which took a toll on industries across the country. First, there was the "Great Fire" of 1846 which was so destructive due to all the whale oil and lumber. The fire managed to burn the main town and about 36 acres, causing a great many people to lose their homes and leave the island poverty stricken. Then, according to sources, the harbor began to silt up, making it impossible for large whaling ships to enter the harbor. That and the development of the railroad, made mainland ports the more logical choice.

Without the draw of the fishing industry, there was little to bring new settlers to the island. And it remained a rather isolated and dreary place to visit until sometime in the 1950's when investors began to see some potential in the island. With Martha's Vineyard being a model both of what could be done and what not to do, investors began to create a vacationland for wealthy New Englanders. And that is what it remains as today, a high class destination for super rich summer vacationers and the college students who serve them. With the occasional middle-class blemish like myself, trying to imagine, just for the weekend, what it would be like to be privileged.

So there it is. My speedy, probably somewhat inaccurate version of the History of Nantucket.

Anyhow, now that I have placed in the world something positive and happy for people to think about for the day, I can feel somewhat satisfied. I have a ton of crap to get done today. Turns out, the clinic in CT decided it would be okay for me to receive my host dose there afterall. I think, really, it was my counselor, and my clinic that was trying to create an uncomfortable situation for me in order to persuade me that marijuana smoking is bad. Well, screw them. They are not going to bully me into doing something I really don't want to do. I don't think it's wrong to smoke weed. Like Jeannie mentioned, it is not much different than having a drink of wine. And they don't make me take a breathalyzer everyday. They don't withhold take-homes to people who admit to drinking occasionally. Honestly, I equate smoking weed with smoking cigarettes. Once people smoke weed regularly, that is about how affected they are by smoking. I don't smoke tobacco, but the few times I have I got so sick and dizzy I wanted to puke. I actually have puked from tobacco on three occasions. And I would not be able to drive after smoking a cigarette. If I insisted on building a tolerance for it though, I'd be able to drive just fine. Same with weed for habitual smokers. I think that the clinics should only test for heroin, cocaine, and benzos, because those are the drugs that can have fatal interactions with methadone. And I think that after a certain amount of time, say five years, of testing negative for those drugs, they should just stop wasting money on tests unless behavioral signs show that something is off with a particular patient. Anyhow, I could go on and on about this particular subject. But I really don't have the time right now. And I wanted to devote an entire post to urine testing at methadone clinics. So for now, I think I'll leave you with what I've got here so far.

Life Happens

2010-03-16T08:02:00.000-07:00

Finally the rain has stopped falling, and the sun is out. It's soggy as oatmeal out there still, but I'm glad it's beginning to dry up. I usually enjoy the rain, the dark days, the slower pace it seems to bring; but for some reason, this latest rain spell made me feel somewhat depressed or something. I couldn't get the fire to burn well in the fireplace because all our wood got wet and a draft was coming down the chimney, along with some rain drip, and everything felt wet and raw.

I did manage to get part of the front lawn raked before the rain, but I have a lot left to finish and I can't wait to get started. I would like to have the whole thing done before my Mom gets back from her latest trip. She spends a lot more time away from here than she spends here. I'm not really sure why she keeps this house except that I think she wants a place of her own in case things don't work out where she is. Maybe she also feels like she can't sell this house because then where would we all live. It's not really her problem to provide living quarters for a bunch of adults, but it's pretty nice to have the option to live here, rather than rent some over-priced, crappy apartment. Between all of us, we should be able to pay most of the bills if everyone were to contribute. But I'm not so sure I want to involve myself in that kind of hassle, arguing with them over who owes what every month. Then I'd be forced to pay it myself if they didn't hand over their share. I'm not sure it's worth it, but I don't have to decide today, so no point in stressing over it. I have enough to worry about without adding things that don't matter today.

My brother, the older of the two, spent part of his weekend in New York again with his new girlfriend. Only this time she was sick, and she passed it to him, and he's been lying all over the house moaning and groaning and being snappy with everyone, and now we are all beginning to feel unwell. So I'm going to make homemade chicken soup tonight, with a lot of fresh garlic, and some popovers or something, and hopefully that will help bolster our immune systems. I should also get some of that airborne stuff that you're supposed to take as soon as you think you may be sick. I hate, hate, hate getting sick. I feel so useless and icky. I AM useless, and nothing gets done and it makes me feel sticky and smelly. Yuk! I really hope I don't get it. Of course, we all could simply be a group of hypochondriacs and we just think we're sick because Scooter says he's sick. Maybe he's just crashing from using too many drugs and claiming "sick" to get away with it. Who knows? We're having chicken soup either way.

I'm trying to set up a host dosing at a clinic in Westport, CT so I can help my Mom this weekend at the furniture/fabric store she runs with her boyfriend. She needs help setting up an eBay account and learning how to use the computer. So I figured I would go down there to help her out with some stuff for the weekend to try to make up for some of the help she's given us lately. I do a lot around the house but she generally pays my brothers to go down there, so I know they need the help. Of course I don't expect her to pay me because I owe her a lot more than I could make in a weekend no matter what. But the clinic in Norwalk, I guess, is having an issue with my non take-home status. Because I refuse to stop smoking weed, I don't get take-homes. I have to drive to the clinic everyday to get my dose. That is my choice. I smoke weed and I accept the consequences of doing so in our society, in the current climate which does not entirely accept the smoking of marijuana. Don't I have the right to believe that some laws are not logical? Or have, perhaps, been designed to benefit a certain sector of the business world and are held in place by financial pressure from big business and the governments that work hand in hand to promote such underhanded tactics. Don't I have the right to argue against laws which seem to cause more harm than good to our society? I think I not only have a right, but I have a responsibility to rage against the machine.......

.....And basically, this is where I was in my thought process when life happened today and I was forced to carry on with the things nobody wants to do but everyone (almost) has to do. Brothers, roommates, mothers, everyone needs me to do something for them. As usual. So first I needed a shower, then to the bank, grocery store, home, and I've already made mini mango tarts, cupcakes, and homemade chicken soup. I'm awesome. Especially for someone raising a family who never had kids or got married. I received an instant family.

2010-03-13T05:20:00.000-08:00

I'm having a hard time writing anything lately. I've felt drained, tired, unbalanced, and uninspired. I feel as if I have a lot I need to do. Keep my Mom's house clean and orderly, dig out last year's tax forms from the storage space, clean, like, every closet and drawer in the entire place because my Mom is a pack rat, create an e-bay site for her store in Westport, and try to find time to re-write a more current version of my own business plan. And I wanted to take advantage of the warm weather and rake the front lawn today. I should probably make that a priority because my Mom, not so wisely, moved to a small, tidy, suburban neighborhood where we have become the freaks on the block. People who are very quiet and typical have been forced to witness the police arresting people from here, my sister chasing her boyfriend around the yard in her car, even cadaver dogs searching their yards for my brother whom my Mother was convinced had shot himself (he didn't). So I think I should do what I can to make them hate us as little as possible, at least over anything new. I'd like for my sister to move out and then we could try to become as invisible as possible. So, back to the topic at hand, which is that I have to put off all the other crap to rake the front lawn. Mostly because my siblings are disgusting and throw cigarettes, tea bags, and other various trash type items all over the driveway and lawn. Why? Probably because they are lazy and thoughtless. And they figure that someone else, namely my Mom or myself, will clean it up eventually.

So, I really have nothing to write about. Or rather, I have plenty I could write about, but am not going to because I feel crappy and tired. And I have a lot to do. So, until later.

Botanic Inspiration

2010-03-06T07:09:00.000-08:00

If you want to check out the website of today's inspiration:

http://www.hartley-botanic.co.uk/

Today's pictorial inspiration: Greenhouses. But not just any greenhouses, Hartley Greenhouses. They are officially approved by the Royal Botanic Gardens Kew, so they must be the best. As if I actually know what the RBGK is and what their standards are. I imagine, however, that they are quite high. Queen of the Greenhouse. They are absolutely gorgeous! And it is my goal to one day have one, albeit a small one is likey all I will ever be able to afford. I would love to be able to maintain a lush indoor garden during the winter months. It's so invigorating to be able to stand behind the glass in a tropical room while watching the snow fall. It really blasts the winter blues, it would be fabulous for anyone with seasonal affective disorder. I don't really get winter blues, but I still can see myself benefitting from having a winter greenhouse. Think of all the herbs you could grow to cook with all winter. Fresh basil in January would be divine. Even tomatoes, and flowers; think of all the possibilities.

I don't think I'll ever be able to afford anything as luxurious as these, but here's to dreaming!

I love the look of real glass with a brick foundation. Of course, the more typical plexi-glass houses are perfectly functional and I will probably have to settle for one of those, if I'm lucky. But the real glass just makes them look sturdy yet still regal in a way. There is something magical about greenhouses, about anything, really, that has the power to create something that doesn't seem possible. A greenhouse does something to plants that doesn't happen naturally, plants aren't supposed to be that green and lush in winter; in summer they also create an artificial environment that seems somewhat unnatural. The environment within can be regulated to such a degree that the plants are living in their ideal climate, all the time. It's as close to perfection as you can get in the plant world. It creates a surreal experience.

For someone who has spent a large portion of my life experimenting with ways to avoid and/or alter reality, a greenhouse like this would fulfill a certain purpose. I feel calmed by plants and lush, green environments. An escape, right in my own backyard, a place that would serve to transport me to a quiet, peaceful, magical world would be a dream come true.

More true to my goofy side, I have this other, older greenhouse dream. I've always been obsessed with Volkswagon busses. I've always wanted to get a really old VW model, like from the late fifties, early sixties, the ones with the split front window and all the little windows on the sides. So the top is already mostly glass. Then I want to cut out the roof and put in glass and use it as a greenhouse. I know that would not appeal to everyone, but imagine it at the end of a fieldstone path surrounded by by beautifully maintained gardens, So it would merely be quirky, not junky. You would have to fully restore the exterior, so there was no rust. And give it a nice paint job, have the work expertly done. And it could be super cool. Or use it as a garden tool shed. I will do it someday. I swear on it.

Positively Perfect Palominos

2010-03-05T11:25:00.000-08:00

These are my picks for today for my post about something positive to help remind me of my goals. I know it probably seems so typical; girl loves horses, what's new? But I guess I just have to accept the obvious, and admit that, yes, I am just another girl who loves horses. I used to want to be a cowboy when I was really little. And because I went to that crazy school I could get away with crazy outfits. I loved to wear my whole cowgirl get up, the boots, jeans, even the hat. But I eventually took riding lessons and it ended up being in the English style. No fancy saddle, no horn to hold onto. But I loved it, and I was pretty good. So I rode and did 4H and other shows for a bunch of years until I went away for school. Then it was too hard to find time to care for them the way they needed to be cared for. We had a couple horses at our own house by then; my dad had built a really crazy, not very functional, but very beautiful barn against a hill in our back yard. It was really sad to sell my horse, she was a really pretty quarter horse named Middy. But anyway, I really haven't ridden in, like, at least ten years, maybe more. And one of my goals is to start again. I want to take lessons somewhere locally. Just once or twice a week at first. Maybe I can find somewhere that will trade labor for lessons. It would be great exercise and I would feel like I was doing something true to myself. Anyway, the pictures are of Palomino horses. If I ever have my own horses again some day, I want one to be a Palomino. I've always thought they were so beautiful. I like how their mane and tail are lighter than their coats. They are so golden and light-filled. Anyway. Positive something for today.

2010-03-05T05:38:00.000-08:00

Oh my God, I am practicing some serious control over my emotions right now. I can't fuckin stand this asshole in my mother's kitchen. He just tried to use one of my Mom's linen dishtowels to soak up the grease from his bacon, that he took out of OUR refrigerator. And I'm the asshole for stopping it, and saying, "Are you fuckin daft?". Who does that? I mean really, who in their right fuckin minds does that? In someone's home? Someone ELSE"S home? I mean seriously???????? I hate, hate, hate him!!!!!! I really can't stress it enough. I tell them to use a paper bag, because they don't know what to do with themselves if there are no paper towels. Oh my God, what will we do? Nellie won't buy paper towels for you all to use as if they fall from the sky for free. Along with the eggs, milk, coffee, bacon, sugar, stove gas, electricity......

Why is he even here? He's married to some woman who is domestically employed by his family, get this though, he only married the woman so she would pay him to make her legal. How illegal is that??? Who do I call to report it? Does anyone know? Has anyhow dealt with that before? I mean, it's against the law on so many levels. Besides the fact that he is committing tax fraud, he's exploiting this poor woman to the nth degree. He's taking her money for his "payment", so she basically is being forced to work for nothing now because she feels indebted to his family. How fucked is that?? I mean, I'd feel bad for the woman, but really she should have to go through the same route as everyone else who wants to be a part of this country. Unless they were truly in love. But this purely a financial arrangement. I am sort of resentful of people who immigrate to this country and work for nothing because they take jobs away from people like me. So I'm competing for a spot against people who will either work for nothing and won't ever complain, and then on the opposite end of the spectrum are the people who are totally over qualified for the job but willing to work for less because jobs are so scarce. But anyhow, that's not the issue at hand. The issue is that I am willing to compromise my typical code of ethics by which I live just to get rid of this bloodsucking LEACH!!!!!! Would he be put in jail for something like that? Probably not, right? Unless he has a record, maybe, which he does, for sure. But not in the realm of tax evasion, just theft, drugs, domestic violence, destruction of property, assault, stuff like that. I sit and I think what can I do, what can I do, what can I do??? I can't murder him, obviously. Although, if this were the Wild West or something, he might just go off on a hunting trip and not return. But I could never get away with anything like that, and when it came down to it, I don't think I would have it in me to kill someone. (Although sitting here listening to him rant about all the drugs he's done to my little brother, is not redeeming him any. Sure, Sam is twenty, not ten, but still, is it necessary to sit here and go on and on and on about how much acid he bought and did when we were all teenagers. Nobody cares, we've all been there, we've all been on Phish lot, we've all sold drugs, we've all been spun, we've all travelled across and back across the country. Well, maybe Sam does think it's interesting, but it's not the kind of bragging he needs to hear. Way to be a good role model, asshole). I can't stand him. But is that enough to justify becoming a rat for the first time in my life? Is it okay to be a fink if the thing you're finking on is really wrong? I'm really not sure, I don't want to create really bad energy for myself. But maybe in the long run, I'd be doing her a favor. I think she would be better off going through the proper, albeit poorly designed, system rather than suffering through a modern version of indentured servitude. But maybe I'm wrong, and my dislike of this moron is clouding my vision.

Oh, and now the Mega Douche is downstairs, screaming like a banshee. She has no levels besides pretending to be civil and nice and then super insane bitch. There is no such a thing as reasoning with her, she can't have a logical argument with anyone. If you try to talk to her about anything, if you disagree with anything there is just no talking to her. She just starts screaming and swearing over everything you try to say. She tries to get you to her level, where you're screaming and flipping out too. But I have made it my goal to not be like that, ever again, with anyone, for any reason. It gets you nowhere. That's not to say I don't get upset, and that sometimes I react in a way I wish I hadn't after the fact. But I do everything in my power to stay calm and logical. I don't swear at her, or call her names. Despite her repeating, at the top of her lungs, over and over, "Fat fucking bitch, Loser, why don't you go suck a big, fat dick. Why don't you go eat some more, fat ass. Shut the fuck up you stupid cunt, all you do is sit around and do nothing but eat. Why don't you go back to school and do something, loser". How do you talk to someone like that? How? I just don't know. Everything I try, just doesn't make any impact, nothing works with her. You'll think you're getting along, you'll think you connected and she'll bitch to you about school, and her sucky, dirty boyfriend, and her schoolwork, she'll ask for help editing her paper, she'll eat the dinners I make and leave her dishes out in the hallway for me to do; and then without warning, she'll turn on you, just like that. Like just this last time she turned from "normal" to nasty because she decided that her boyfriend was coming to dinner at the very last minute and I was like, "Lily (sigh) I asked you, I asked everyone who would be here for dinner so I could plan for the portions. So I could buy the right amount of food. This wouldn't be so frustrating if I hadn't just asked and you said he would not be here." I didn't say he couldn't eat, I didn't freak out. But it goes from that to "Fuck You, we wouldn't want for you to lose any weight, NELLIE! You fat bitch, spend all day in the kitchen eating all the food, you fucking bitch". It sounds like I'm making it up, but really I'm not. She's that crazy. She can't have a disagreement and talk it out, ever. It's really frustrating.

The best thing would be if I just didn't have to be anywhere near her. That was the solution I've opted for until recently. But I've been holding in this anger and resentment for all these years because I feel like I was driven out of my own home because of her. I know that my Mom, like Jeannie so wisely pointed out, puts up with it because she doesn't know what to do about it, because she doesn't want my sister to hate her, and I think she also thinks I'm more capable of doing things for myself. But that sucks. Lily's more damaged, so she gets away with everything, because my Mom doesn't want to hurt her feelings? It's made my life really hard, my childhood was marked by Lily's outbursts, there was never any peace once Lily turned twelve or thirteen. And before that she wasn't right either, but she was a little girl. A little blond, blue-eyed girl, so people assumed she was innocent. Anything but. She would hit my brother when no one was looking, and then when he finally retaliated she would go rat on him, crying wolf all the time.

I'll always remember the exact day I knew for sure that something wasn't right. The first day her behavior scared me. We were on the swing set in our back yard and me and Scooter were swinging happily until Lily came out. She began to throw mud and rocks at Scooter for no other reason than she was clearly jealous that we were playing together on the swings and she has never known how to deal with anything, right from the start. And a lot of people would probably blow it off as normal kid stuff, as was undoubtedly Helen's take on the situation for years, "Oh, she's just a kid, she's jealous, she'll grow out of it". But she never has grown out of it. And it wasn't just kid stuff, she had a malicious look in her eye that day. Like the creepy movies you watch about children murderers; watching her was like watching a little blond angel rip the wings off an injured bird laying in the grass, and smiling. When the rocks and dirt didn't get him off the swing, she became more physical, trying to grab at him as he passed back and forth. Mind you, she was probably only five or six years old, but she had a mission. She wanted him off that swing, no matter what it took. She finally decided to take a stronger stance and she got behind him, as he came up for the back swing and she pushed, with all her might. And Scooter went flying forward, into the mud, and the rocks littering the dirt below him from her earlier projectiles. His hands were cut from the rocks, his face was cut from pounding the ground with his cheek, and he was crying in no time. And what did Lily do? She smiled, briefly, clearly, maliciously, and the she turned heel and ran inside crying that Scooter had hit her. And did she get reprimanded? Oh, no, Scooter did. Because she lied, and she's been perfecting her skills ever since. Scooter was sent to his room, and Lily got to swing. Alone. Because I have been wary of her ever since. You would think that the physical evidence of attack on my brother would argue in his favor. But it happens time and again that Lily physically injures people and gets away with it on the premise of self-defense. "I only hit him because he was swinging at me."

I really, and truly, believe that she has a mental disorder of severe standing. I believe she would stab me in my sleep, if she thought she would get away with it. I lock my doors. Especially after the day she was sitting in the living room, with everyone in the family, smoking a bowl, and out of the blue, for no known reason, Lily announces to us all that she would have no problem dismembering someone if she were high enough. Who says that? Who thinks about that? She worries me a great deal. And worse, she's studying to be a teacher for elementary school age children. She's doing her student teaching right now. Even if she manages to get through school, it's going to be really hard for her to find a job once employers conduct a back ground check on her. Most schools don't like to hire teachers with prior drug and assault charges. Not to mention she was let go from her last teaching job after she brought weed to the school and the whole classroom could smell it. It's the thought of people like her that make me wary of having kids to begin with. Looks can be deceiving. The kids will sometimes say mean things to her, like your dress is ugly; and rather acting like an adult, she'll reply, "Well, your dress is ugly". She comes home and tells us this, as if it's funny. She's crazy, totally crazy.

Well, I just really needed to vent. And I needed a way to keep busy while sitting here keeping the corner of my eye on them so they don't do anything drastically stupid. Like burn down the house. But they are finally clearing out. So I need to clean up after them so I can cook my own breakfast, and Sam and Mikey's too. Then I'll vacuum, turn all the thermometers down that I know have been turned up to seventy (thanks LILY). I know without looking because I'm sweating profusely just sitting here. They don't pay for it, so who cares?

2010-03-04T13:41:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of me at the beach in Hampton Beach NH.

I love the ocean. I'm not sure if I prefer the ocean in winter, or summer.

The beach in winter is nice because there aren't a lot of people, laying all over the sand, that you have to wind around to walk along. It's quiet and you can very clearly hear the water and the seagulls. You can bring your dogs to the beach in winter, and nobody cares. You can eat lobster at the seaside fry shacks, and it's much cheaper than in the summer. And it's very easy to find a place to sit. It's easy to find parking as well. You can park right in front of the sand, in any spot you like, there are so few other cars it kind of looks as if you were parked in the middle of the road.

But in the summer, there are so many people that it seems like a party everyday. All the stores are open and it's balmy and the salt makes your skin feel tight. There are ice cream stands open late into the night. You can swim without a wetsuit, and lay in the sun. Get a tan, wear hardy any clothes and it's entirely acceptable.

Maybe I'm simply being lazy right now, but if you go by my pro/con list, the winter is clearly better. Which is weird, I would have thought the summer would have many more positives. I'm sure I've left many out.

2010-03-04T10:09:00.000-08:00

Despite the fact that I'm going through some major transitions lately, and even though I'm uncomfortable and stressed out a lot, I'm really trying to focus on changing the patterns that brought me to this place. I want to make choices that create a different life for me. I want to feel successful and happy, like I've done something that meant something. So every post, I want to include something that reminds me of a positive goal of mine.

So, I started with some easy and obvious. I've always been into learning about natural medicine and health. I've kind of let my interests in that area fall to the wayside as my health as deteriorated over the fast few years. I want to regain my health and reignite the interests I once had. I've always wanted to study at Kripalu Yoga and Meditation Center in Massachusetts. So here is a pic of their catalog, to remind me of what I love.

Can you Smell the Rage from there??

2010-03-03T05:49:00.000-08:00

Is there even a way to fix things that have been broken for too long? For example: A chair breaks, if you fix it immediately, it may be okay, if it wasn't all that broken to begin with. But if you were to put it aside in the garage or something and wait five years, the chair would be so much more work to fix. Because now it's not just that a leg has been snapped, now the actual wood is corroding and you have to get a whole new peice. With a lot of repairs, it could be almost like new again, but never quite right. Aren't people like that too? If you don't fix the problems when they first start, it's that much more difficult to fix them at all. My family is a corroded chair thrown in the garage. Is it even worth fixing? Personally, I take chairs like that to the dump. Is there a dump for people????? I guess that would be like a jail or a state mental institution. And everyone in my family would probably fit the bill for either one of those places, sadly enough. My Mom and I would go to the loony bin, both my brothers would go to jail, and my sister would only be suited to a prison hospital, since she is a criminal and a psychotic.

I really wish I could put hidden cameras all throughout the house so professionals could see what I have to deal with. People think that if there is not overt physical abuse then there isn't anything that bad to deal with. But I've read articles about how psychological abuse can even cause post traumatic stress disorder. And that's if you take away the fact that whenever my brothers get angry, everyone in their path is in physical danger too. This morning alone, my youngest brother didn't like that my mom and I had our voices raised so he threw the laundry basket down the stairs at us. Then he came storming down, spit flying, voice hoarse with screams, flailing fists like a mini man hurricane of anger. He threw a punch a couple of centimeters from my face and then when I sat down in a chair he tried to wing the top of the cat tower at my head, but in his irate haste he misjudged and it hit my Mom in the head on the couch at the other side of the room. Then he started to scream about Mikey in response to me telling him that I hope the time that my Mom is gone works really well for him since I won't be buying him or anyone else any cigarettes, because I don't smoke. And I won't be driving him back and forth across town five times a day to get weed, and neither will Mikey. I wouldn't be doing his dishes, washing his clothes, making his meals, that I basically would no longer be his surrogate Mother. That's when he starts in on how neither of us do anything for anyone and he doesn't care, blah, blah, blah......and Mikey (who, what a surprise, didn't make it very far for very long, is back) thinks it would be a good idea to pop his head out of our dungeon space living quarters and ask if Sam has something to say to his face. And then later he acts as if he were actually defending me instead of himself. Because I didn't need nor ask for his help. I do just fine myself in arguments. See, I've learned that you almost always win if you stay logical and make sense and don't act like an idiot. Then you just have more weight behind you to back up the fact that you must be right, because you're not the one acting like a freak. It works for police and politicians ALL the time, so why not me? So when Mikey puts himself on my side w/out my asking and then proceeds to act like an ass, that pisses me off and makes things worse. So then him and and my little brother start fighting, Sam lunges at him and it gets physical. Then, my Mother always has to jump in the fray. So I'm yelling at them all to let go of each other, they're hurting my Mom, and they're rolling around on the kitchen floor, and my Mom's screaming, and I'm yelling at her now to just get away from them or she's going to get hurt. But in a fight no one wants to be the first person to let go because the other person might use that as an excuse to throw a sucker punch. But eventually they realized that they were hurting Helen (my Mom) and they separated. And then they act like nothing even happened and right away Mikey's all, "Hey Sam, I'll smoke you up". And I'm like "No, you won't, this is what the whole argument has been about". I get stuck in the middle because my siblings use all of their allotted money for the time Helen is away, and then they have nothing, no cigarettes, no weed, no money for food or gas, nothing. So then they start acting like horrible monsters, everyone has to walk on eggshells around them or another scene ensues where they are throwing things at you and screaming and calling you names. So I end up buying them that shit with my personal money or they money that Helen left me for taking the dog to the vet and buying groceries for everyone. She originally left me all their money too, to dole out as they needed it so it didn't get spent all at once, but that was a nightmare as you can probably imagine. Then EVERYTHING was my fault and I wasn't buying the right things and Lily didn't have enough of this or that. So I told my Mom I wasn't doing that anymore. So they have their own money allotted to them. But, like I said, they spend it all in about three days or less, and we're talking, like, a couple hundred dollars, not twenty bucks. So then she'll leave two hundred extra dollars in a "household" account that only I can access but then that makes me the middle man and puts me in a really horrible situation. I don't have a license but they're always bossing me around telling me they need this or that and they think I have all this secret money hidden away that I use to buy myself lavish things. And I'm so mean that I won't just give them what they want. They don't understand that that money is for emergencies or milk when we run out in four days, they don't understand the concept of planning and thinking ahead. So I end up doling out all that money in about two more days because now it's going to Lily, Sam, and Scooter because none of them have any of their own money left and so without fail, every week Mikey and I end up going through almost all of the money we live off on our own, which isn't very much honestly. I split Mike's unemployment with him every week which pays for my methadone, gas to get there, food for us and then, like, incidentals such as toothpaste, weed (which we hardly smoke very much of at all these days), shampoo and crap like that. I hate to admit it, but my dependence on that little bit of money is a huge reason why I am not more firm about Mike leaving. Because I have a bit of tax money I'm waiting for, but that will only go so far. I have to pay all my fines to get my license back and then Mike will take the car when he leaves, so it would leave me with very little money and no car. I maybe could buy a crapper with what's left after fines, or I could try to find a job within walking distance, but that's not proving very fruitful as of yet. So I feel really stuck and super pressured by parties on all sides. What's new? This has been my life for as long as I can remember. I know what I need to do in order to get where I want to be. I just never seem to be able to find an environment to reside in that stays stable enough, long enough for me to accomplish anything. Does that make sense? I feel like people are always making me feel as if everything really is within my control and I'm just always not making the right choices. But I feel like I try SO, SO hard to do the right thing, and work hard, and plan ahead and then something crazy, totally out of my hands happens. And I'm sort of left floundering and I have to sort of start all over again to figure out how this new situation works. And it just takes so long that way to get anywhere new, it seems so daunting that sometimes I just want to give up even trying. Not, like, kill myself. I can't stress enough how much I despise people who kill themselves. And I hate even more the people who simply act like they're going to kill themselves and then don't. Cry for help motherfuckers. Sorry to anyone who may be in that category and thinks I'm being insensitive; but I've had to live side by side with too many people who have pulled that crap. It's so hurtful to the people in your life, it's selfish and cowardly. I know there are certain instances when people have imbalances that are so severe that they really don't know what else to do, and I guess I feel a little sorry for those folks, but I feel more sorry for the people they left behind.

I think I must have been around eight years old the first time I remember being told that my Mom had tried to kill herself. She must have already had a history of being overly dramatic and self-absorbed, but I was a little kid and just saw her as my Mom still. I remember my aunt came to pick me and Scooter, my brother and the second oldest in the family, up from school. At the time we were going to The Atrium School, in Watertown, Massachusetts. It was this really liberal, artsy, private school where, looking back, all the teachers and administrators must have had their heads up their asses. I didn't get taught that you have to add numbers from the left to the right until I was almost ten years old. I just thought you were supposed to be able to look at them and know what they added up to. I just didn't understand how everyone could do it so quickly once the numbers we added got into the hundreds and thousands. Finally, one of them realized what I was trying to do and explained the correct, and much easier, way to do it. I remember being amazed. I had, at that point, acted out several Greek plays, made a Maypole and danced around it, disintegrated the shells of eggs with vinegar, made numerous cloth dolls, and gone on several treasure hunts. I could read anything, upside down and backwards. But I had no idea how to add. I guess they had certain priorities. But anyhow, back to the tale. We were picked up by my aunt, and I was surprised not to see my Mom. I always knew when my Mom was supposed to pick us up because usually on the days she didn't pick us up we had to carpool with my friend Jacob and his mom. And when we had to ride with him the car was always crowded and it smelled like baby poop and vomit, except when his little sister farted, which was often, and then we had the added benefit of two different poo smells. Yummy. I felt like I was going to puke the whole time. Every ride with them was a feat, a challenge of whether or not I could keep my stomach from ejecting it's contents. I dreaded those days. So I was highly concerned when I saw Meg rather than my Mother in the designated pick-up line. I was always an overly thoughtful, anxious person. Ever since I was born, my mother always said. My siblings were always fighting with each other and I would be sitting away from them saying, "It's not me Mom, right? You're not mad at me right?". And she would be trying to yell at them and turn to me finally and yell, "NO, NELLIE! I'm not yelling at you, am I? Just mind your own business". Or some such thing. Even to this day, she wants me to this or that, and I do it, and I try to please everyone, and she calls me a goody-two shoes. I just can't make her see me for who I am, which is sincerely a thoughtful person. I'm not doing what I do to get anything but respect and thoughtfulness in return. I don't want money, I don't want clothes or her car. I just want peace and consideration.

So Meg was there waiting for us, we climbed into her beat up old Volvo and asked where our mom was. She told us at that point only that Helen was in the hospital because she had been sick. Clearly we were worried as any children would be upon hearing such news. We rode in silence until we had made our way from Watertown over to Cambridge where my grandmother lived. But for some reason we didn't head to Grammy's house, and I really don't know what was going on as I've never asked for clarification from anyone who was old enough at the time to remember details, instead we stopped at O'Leary's which was a bar that my grandfather frequented. We were told to wait in the car while Meg ran in. She must have gone there to speak with either my grandfather, grandmother, or my Uncle Marty who may have been gathered there. So my mom's in the hospital after attempted suicide and we stop at the bar? Does anyone else think that's weird? Anyhow, from there I remember being brought back to our own house, over in East Cambridge. We lived close enough to the Charles River that we could see the Fourth of July fireworks from the roof of our townhouse, we could smell the chocolate from the factories that were next to the science museum. And I suppose we must have waited there with my aunt until my mom was released from the hospital.
I don't remember anyone trying to explain anything to us. I remember the hectic, anxious feelings in the air. I recall people rushing around and different family members coming and going. I don't know where my father was in all of this. I do know that was what we have always been told set it off that time. Helen and my father had separated, and she must have had some altercation with him. For a minute I almost confused this first time with another time. In the other incident, it was a weekend day and Helen decided to surprise my dad with fuckin donuts on a Sunday morning. And she finds him with some woman who worked for him. I guess, the story goes, she was sitting in the dining room with my father's shirt on and my mom walks in with home made donuts. I'm sure she made a scene. Probably donuts flew through the air. Sugar and cinnamon dripping down the front of the white collared shirt. But why, honestly, did she think he wanted his own place? So he could NOT fuck other women? At that point, after multiple infidelities, a woman has to make a choice. She either dumps the cheating bastard because she knows she can't live like that and he can't be faithful. Or she reconciles herself to what is the harsh reality and she finds some hot dude to fuck herself while continuing to live the life to which she has come accustomed. I would have respected her more had she made either one of those choices. But she picked an alternate course of action. Play the martyr and try to change an unchangeable situation; until everyone is so fucked up and angry that there is no foreseeable peace for anyone in the near future. Our life has been warped into this cluster-fuck of resentment, jealousy, anger, and depression.

And still, at almost sixty years old, my mother is not much different from that woman who was slumped in her bed in her East Cambridge townhouse with a wine bottle in her hand and make-up dripping down her face, blubbering to her three small children while they huddled in the doorway, unsure if there was anything they could do. We're still not sure what we can do when she decides she can't take anymore of the life she created. Not more than two nights ago she broke down because she spent too much money on Sam for his birthday, my brother Scooter went nuts with her credit card in NYC on a date with some girl he just met, my sister didn't act grateful when my mother told her that the Prius she drives everyday would be fixed by the next day; so that was it, nobody loves her, everybody hates her, guess she'll go make empty suicidal threats until we all want to pull our hair out. And the scene could have been any one from our childhood, only all of us are a little taller now. My Mom is freaking out on our siblings and I'm telling her to just calm down, she's overreacting and everyone is just tired. I tell her to leave the dishes and I'll do them very early so she won't even see them. And she turns and screams at me that she doesn't WANT me to do the dishes! Why don't I mind my own business, she knows how to run a home! So, same as twenty-five years ago, my siblings are spoiled to no end, act like assholes, my mom takes it out on me because they don't care when she's angry or upset and she needs someone to show a reaction so she fights with me instead when I'm just trying to be helpful and calm things down.

So, clearly, there is a lot more going on here than I could ever explain in crappy rant. But I'm sick and tired of having to deal with and clean up after this mess of monsters that Helen has created by never, ever setting ANY limits. She just throws money at anything that inconveniences her. If my sister is calling everyone big, fat fuckin cunts and calling the police on herself, my mom gives her money to go to a hotel for the night. Does anyone else agree that that is simply rewarding shitty behavior? I do. My sister thinks she's supposed to act like that, the worse she acts, the more she gets. Same with everyone. Except me, if I act out, even a little bit, or even if I'm not being unreasonable, if I'm just even questioning something my mother or someone is doing, I get attacked. She's thrown me out more times than I can remember before I even turned eighteen because I would try to tell her how to raise her kids. I'd tell her Lily was fucking twenty-five year olds and smoking cigarettes when she was fourteen, and my brother was doing acid at the dinner table, and she'd tell me to get the fuck out, I wasn't the parent and I was starting problems. She still resents me for pointing out the negative and wanting solutions. NO NELLIE! We look the other way, pretend it doesn't matter and let it eat away at our insides until we are so raw and bleeding that we need blood transfusions because the stress has caused ulcers that bleed through our ass, like you MOM.

Wow, I'm angry today. When I get treated the same as I did when I was sixteen, I get so angry, I want to burst. I don't even know what to do because I know that nothing I can say or do will matter. I just have to bide my time, try to get out alive, try to care more about myself, stop thinking that if I'm just nice enough, calm enough, if I do enough, if I clean enough than my mother will see that I'm good and and my siblings are not. That will never happen, she will never limit them, she will never reprimand them, she will never put her foot down, she will let them suck every single drop of energy from her and she wants me to do the same and I can't! I don't want for her to not love them, you can love someone who you think is wrong, you can tell them you don't love their actions while you still love them. She thinks that setting limits is the same as limiting her love for them. I think that if she loved us all more, she would have set limits when we we younger, she wouldn't have let us do whatever we wanted. Didn't she worry about us, worry is love, is caring. Letting your pre-adolescent children smoke cigarettes is not love, it nuts.

I have to go eat something before I faint. I can't not eat anything all day long like my mother and sister. Being a size zero is not worth my health and sanity, sorry. I won't starve myself because they think I'm fat! I'm so fucking tired of other people telling me I'm fat. Or talking about how fat they are in front of me when the are a size zero! Or telling me not to eat a brownie on my brother's birthday, it'll make it so I don't lose weight. Maybe I'm not all that concerned about my weight. I know I could stand to lose some, and I am, slowly. That's good enough for me. And lots of people still seem to find me attractive, so perhaps, Helen, it's possible to enjoy life and eat good foods and still people will love you even if you have a little roll on your tummy. I like having tits and an ass. I think they want to starve me so I look like a plank or a little boy, just like them. FUCK THEM! That's how I feel today, just fuck them all!

A Quick Morning Rant

2010-03-02T05:52:00.000-08:00

Ah, taking advantage of the few moments of peace and quiet before the whole house is alive with the raging personalities of those I now live with. Amazingly, everyone is still asleep. That's kind of unusual for a Tuesday morning, or any morning for that matter. Generally, my Mom is buzzing around me, picking up my coffee cup, to put in the sink, before I've finished drinking it or vacuuming under my feet. All the while on the phone or dictating plans for the day, hour, or week. I love my Mom, she is, of course, the woman who gave me my life. But she can be insanely overbearing, over-dramatic, and over-sensitive.

I'm trying to write this post and drink my coffee, just chilling. But I really need to clean up the mess from last night's Birthday dinner for Sam. It's a mountain of plates and platters, water and wine glasses. And I hate the way they load the dishwasher and my Mom will be put out if it's not done and I'm just sitting here writing. She'll say it's fine, she doesn't WANT me to do it, just stay out of the kitchen. But inside she'll be fuming, thinking I'm ungrateful and lazy. So I'm off to do some dishes, and then I'll pop back.....

Okay, finished all the crap that can be put in the dishwasher. We aren't allowed to put real silver, or ceramic painted serving platters in there. I guess they chip, which makes sense. So now I just have about five bowls, three or four pots and pans, some casserole dishes and all the silverware. And of course I know that nobody cares about this. But it's a more or less a permanent way to have proof of the shit I do. Blogger logs the time and date so I can't be accused of lying or tampering with facts. So when I have to defend myself to my Mom because of whatever (most likely because my sister is asserting I did or didn't do this or that), I can pull up this post and say, "See, remember this day, or that day, and remember I did all this work?". And then she can't claim I didn't. We've also begun to video tape my sister when she's being psycho so we can show my Mom when she's not here. And maybe one day we'll show Lily herself so she can see how horrible she looks when she's acting like that. Oh, look at me going on and on..........Listening to Joni Mitchell, and still the house is QUIET, it's a miracle.

Well, I made it pretty far into the morning with some peace and solitude. Except for the animals, but I much prefer animals to people. My brother came downstairs just as I was finishing up the final dishes. Kitchen is finally clean. Now it will probably stay that way for about an hour, if I'm lucky. I wish every morning could be this nice. I suppose that would entail me having to live alone, which I really don't want to do actually. I like living with other people most of the time. It's just that my family is made up of very temperamental people. Everyone has a short temper, including me. Some people here take it out in worse ways than others though. I may lose my temper and snap a bit, but I get over it very quickly and am ready to apologize when I'm wrong. And I only think I'm not as bad as the rest of them anymore because I've lived away from home long enough to learn that you can't act like that in public, in the "real" world. If you bug on the wrong person, you may get hurt. You can't swear at teachers, landlords, bosses, judges, police, neighbors, etc without suffering probable consequences. The rest of my family hasn't learned that because every time they piss off an outsider, they just pay their way out of it. And we're not really rich, so they end up spending a lot of money on lawyers and fines that could have been used for much more productive things. It's really frustrating that they haven't learned how to behave.

They take so much for granted, even each other. My sister and brothers just expect my Mom to support them. My Mom, thinking she's avoiding conflict, just gives in repeatedly to their expectations. So it's a real vicious cycle that's been created here, and I do not feel as if I have the power to stop it. I feel like the best way is to just try to stay calm and appreciative of all that I receive from this situation.

Warning: The following contains major bitching and complaining

2010-03-01T09:03:00.000-08:00

I've really been trying to make a workable living situation with Mikey until we can get our store going and find our own places to live. But it's really getting worse and worse. He lives here with me at my my Mom's, for basically free, and he's just never happy. He compares his situation to that of my brother's, and he's jealous that they get everything from my Mom and do nothing. He doesn't understand that he's not her child and their situation just isn't his business, at all. He just needs to concentrate on his own problems and needs, as long as he has what he needs to be comfortable, and he's fulfilling his obligations, what is there to fret about? But all I hear is him complaining about not saving any money yet, and my brothers and sister do nothing and get hand outs, and why don't I clean the downstairs NOW, and why does my mother do this or that, and bitch, bitch, bitch. I just can't hear it anymore. Meanwhile, he sleeps until at least eleven every morning, while I get up no later than seven to go to the clinic. He's supposed to be driving me anyhow, because I have no license. So every day I drive myself is a gamble, I may get pulled over - but he just hates to get up early, and we wouldn't want that. Whaaa, whaaa, poor Mikey. It's seriously a toss up, would I rather go to jail or be stuck in the car with Mikey swearing at me or lecturing me for an hour and a half? It's really that awful to be with him in the morning that it's worth the risk to me, really, it is.
He makes me SO MAD!!! I was having an okay morning before he got up. It would have been better if my sister's boyfriend hadn't still been here, blabbing in our living room, even though my sister had left at seven. He hangs around bragging about how awesome a skier he is and telling us all kinds of shit we already know about the mountains. And I just really don't like him, he just rubs me the wrong way, and he has ever since I first met him when he was about thirteen. He's always been an obnoxious little fucker. He sits in my Mom's living room with his sweaty feet up on the coffee table, and lounges back on the couch as if he owns the place, in his stupid, saggy, yet somehow uncomfortably fitted long underwear. With his dried out, frizzy-ass, Cramer hair-do sticking up all over his greasy head, UGH! I really hate him. He screams everything he says and laughs this jarring, dog bark laughter; this series of HA, HA, HA"S as if he's caught you out on something. ICK! So maybe, afterall, my morning was sucky as soon as I got home from the clinic and walked into him commandeering the living room with his shady energy and scheming ways.

So I snuck into the dining room to try to create my own area of chillness. But, of course, I could still hear him, which begun this battle in my head of "I can do it, just relax and ignore him vs. Grrrr, I want to smack him and kick him in the ass right out the door". I managed to stay away from him until he left, but I couldn't shake the heavy, itching sensation in my chest, the feeling of unease. But I had my space in the dining room, with my tea and my computer, and it was getting late and I needed to eat something before it made me even more upset because my blood sugar begins to drop. I get really cranky when I'm hungry, so I decided to make an egg around my mother and her baking, because I was really hungry. See, my Mom had already started making my brother's Birthday Brownies (his request, rather than a cake), and she had stuff all over the kitchen counters. So right about then, Mikey comes stumbling upstairs with his hair sticking up all over his head and his eyes still filled with sleep. And he wants a cup of coffee, so I start that for him. All he had to do was push a button and then add milk and sugar. Simple. Then I felt obligated to ask him if he wanted one. But I wasn't really into making it for him, and things were hectic, but I cracked him two eggs alongside mine. But then I only put toast in for myself and he bugged out. Why couldn't I make him some too? But I've been up all morning, for hours, putting out the trash, cleaning up closets, driving to the clinic, and I'm hungry. He just got up, why can't he make his own toast and put his own plate together. Instead, he walks right into the dining room, sits down right in front of the laptop where I was sitting, and proceeds to minimize all my pages and check his own shit. All my stuff was there, I only got up to make the eggs, and he takes over my whole shit. And he does this, like, every time I sit anywhere with the computer. It really pisses me off. So I was bitching about it and telling him to make his own shit if he was going to consider my getting up to make food a good enough reason for him to consider me done with the computer. And he kept telling me to shut up and quit bitching. So my Mom told him, partially joking but sort of serious, to stop swearing at me and calling me names. And he got all huffy and collected all his stuff and stormed off. He said he wasn't eating his eggs now, either.
So I brought his stupid breakfast down to him and told him I hoped he choked on it while he was packing his shit so he could get the fuck out of my Mother's house. And he was all, "Mlyaa, fuck you, I am". So I hope he is, but I doubt it, because that would be too good to be true. I've been telling him to go to live with his own family now for months, so what would possibly have changed to make him finally leave now? Maybe he finally realized that I am really just trying to get the store going so we can both have money, but that's it. We're not a couple, how can we be? I can't be with someone for the rest of my life who treats me like a mix between his mother and his sister. I was willing to let him be my roommate until we got a store going, but he just can't stay here if he can't be grateful and pleasant more often than not.

Whatever, I'm almost done bitching for now. I'm sure I'm going to have to deal with his bullshit for the rest of the day. Which is going to suck because it's also Sam's birthday, and even though he's twenty he still thinks that everyone should only care about him today, and nothing else. He was horrified that me and my sister didn't remember to wish him happy birthday as soon as we saw him. (And I did wish him happy birthday before I went to bed last night, and it was almost midnight. So basically I was the first one to say it at all) I wasn't even thinking straight at that point. And I don't recall him being very pleasant to me on my birthday, in fact, everyone was an asshole that day. I'm sick of everyone thinking that they are the only ones who matter. And all the rest of us should bow down to their needs.

You know, I'll miss him to an extent when he's gone, but how can I ever move on with him here? I really don't want to be alone, at my Mom's house. That's, like, totally reverting to being at the level of a sixteen year old, only I'm thirty-one. But I just feel like he's not helping me to help us to move forward. He is too depressed and angry for me to be around, dealing with that shit is a waste of time. We have too much to get done if we are ever going to have a store. And really that was always his thing, not mine. But I do think it could make money and therefore give me a certain freedom from having to work shitty jobs. I'd have to work, of course, only it would be for myself. That's harder to give up than him, I think. Is that awful? I just want to be independent and I've got so far to go to be there. It seems so daunting. I just have to keep telling myself that it will work itself out, I will find a way for myself to be happy and feel useful. After the initial shitiness, I think that I could be a lot better off if Mikey would just go his own way. I don't care if he wants to go open his store on his own, or whatever. And I know he's going to be super unfair about what he takes, he'll try to take everything, and for the most part I really don't care about that either.

Right now I'm just pissed off at everyone. I'm mad at my Mom because she expects too much from me and not enough from anyone else. Even she herself admits this to be true. I really can't take it. I'm not perfect, at all. She never listens to anything I say, she will sit and whine to me all day and then if I have an issue it's "yeah, yeah, yeah, not now, Nellie. Don't ruin your brother's birthday". Well, today it's the birthday but it could be anything. It could be Lily's upset already, or it's already been too much with Scooter's problems. Because I always kind of went off on my own people figured I was fine. It's like that at the methadone clinic too. Because I'm the best of the worst they push me to the wayside. I may be an addict freak, but at least I'm not an addict freak who's pregnant or already has kids, or is living in a box or something. So I'm not the priority. I don't really need to be top priority, really. But it would be nice, once in a while, to be on the list at all.

Fuck this whiny shit. I need to go for a walk, pretend I don't live here and that I don't have to come back. Sorry for anyone who may have subjected themselves to this drivel. I'm not sure if that's correctly spelled, but I like the word so I'm keeping it. Have a Good One.

Party Pictures

2010-02-28T06:45:00.000-08:00

Pictures from Mikey's Birthday night. That's me below, presenting him with his cake.

Then here is our dining room, decorated for the party. My brother Sam is going to be twenty tomorrow, so we've left the streamers and stuff up so we only have to add a few things for him. Just so it's a little different. We don't want him to feel like he's only good enough for leftovers. Aren't they spoiled. I'll probably just add a few more balloons and curl some ribbons and hang them from the chandelier. He's shy about celebrating anyhow. And my Mom gave him all his presents yesterday because he was in a bad mood. Personally, I would have made him wait. It builds character to learn how to pull yourself out of a slump.

Here, below, is the meal Mikey chose for his Birthday dinner. It sounds simple, but boy was it actually a lot of work. Homemade french fries, fried haddock, and a yummy salad. The french fries took forever to peel, soak, and fry twice. Because, my mother claimed, that is how the French do it so they stay crispy. They were, in fact, totally awesome fries. Perfection in a potato, but lots of effort for the outcome. Same with the fish. But Yummy, Yummy, Yummy!!!

And, of course, the cake. A white cake with a raspberry buttercream frosting, layered with raspberry jam. And, topped with fresh berries! Mikey likes chocolate but he really can't eat it because it gives him headaches and then we have to listen to him complain. So he got the chocolate haters dream cake instead. We liked it too. But it didn't really come out as good as it should have. I'm not exactly sure what I did wrong. I mean, it was edible, even tasty. But just not right. It should have been much more light and fluffy. It was supposed to be six layers, and it ended up being only three because my cakes just didn't puff up like they were supposed to. Maybe I didn't whip it enough. Maybe my raising agents were bad. Whatever it was, I don't know, but I do know that I won't rush to make this recipe again. I only like to reuse recipes that work great without a lot of fancy moves and rules. But, alas, it fulfilled its birthday cake role.

And lastly, Mikey's big smile as he blew out his candles. I think he was really happy that we did so much for him for his B-day. I haven't done much for the past couple years, just because we've been so bumming. We just had to work so much, any extra effort was just too much. So, finally, we can appreciate the finer moments of existence. We can enjoy the highlights of life. We have the time, finally, to pay attention to the details rather than just slogging through the best we can.

Happy Birthday, Buddy!!!!!

WE LOVE YOU!!!!

2010-02-28T04:06:00.000-08:00

Everyone must have a morning, at least every now and then, when they just don't want to get up and it seems like everything sucks even though nothing has even begun yet. Today is that day for me. Maybe it will get better by the time I get back from the clinic. I just don't feel well and it's cold and gray, again. Aside from nothing, I really have, oh, let's see, NOTHING, to bitch about. So I'll be on my way and see if it doesn't get better.

2010-02-27T16:01:00.001-08:00

Long day, too tired to post right now. Just made a really easy dinner. Egg noodles, broccoli, peas, chicken, garlic with lemon, butter sauce. Yummy, quick, cheap, easy. Goodnight.

2010-02-27T09:36:00.000-08:00

It's gray and snowy on the coast of southern New Hampshire today. It would be a beautiful day to go stand by the ocean. I imagine it as so pale and serene. Maybe I will try to find time to head over to the beach later on. Although, I feel as if the day has already slid away right beneath my feet. Where did the morning go? Where did the afternoon go, for that matter? One minute ago it was six-thirty in the morning, and now it's almost late enough that I could have a glass of wine without seeming like a total wino. But I'm not going to have wine because it's making me fat. Well, I don't think there is really a single ailment in the world that can be attributed to just one thing. Any occurrence is caused by multiple factors converging to cause a specific result based on that particular combination of events. Meaning, it's not just the wine that contributes to my fat cells growing. It's all the other food I eat as well, my over fondness for pastry, and my under active desire for exercise.

Who Doesn't Like Fairies?

2010-02-26T08:50:00.000-08:00

How cool are these pictures of smooshed fairies? Awesome!!! It's from a book called Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy Book. The actual book is SO much better, obviously, than just a couple of computer images. Totally worth checking out if
fairies are your thing.

Birthdays and An Electric Outage

2010-02-26T07:20:00.000-08:00

The weather here in NH has been nutty for the past twenty-four hours or so. It's been raining for a few days, but last night the wind became so strong it blew the screen off the second story window to my Mother's bedroom. A tree was felled in the yard across the road, and we lost electricity around eleven.

Luckily we had a fire going which created enough light to see by. We were able to gather candles and flashlights, enough for each of us to get to our rooms. And luckily the night was more or less at an end by the time the lights went out. Hours had gone by since we cleaned up from dinner. And because we live very near by the Exeter Hospital, our electricity was restored by about two a.m.; but the rest of the town was dark still when I began my drive to the clinic at six-thirty this morning. It was a traffic disaster because none of the traffic lights were working, people were charging intersections all at once, yielding to no one. And even worse, the gas stations were out of commission. And I was on empty. I thought that I could make it a few exits down to the next area with a gas station, but as I approached I realized that they too had no lights, and their pumps were also down. I was a bit worried at this point. It wasn't until I made it the entire forty miles to Manchester that I was able to find an open gas station; I putted in on fumes, just barely. It could have been a bad scene since I was alone and I still don't have my license back. If I had run out of gas on the side of the highway and a State Police Officer had driven up upon me, I would have had problems for sure. But luck was on my side, as usual.

I should have my license back soon though. My Mom has been helping me out so much, I feel absurdly indebted to her right now. I try to do as much around the house as far as cooking, cleaning, and various other chores and errands to make up for a small chunk of what she has given to me. Of course, as children, we can never really fully repay our parents for all that they have given us. In essence, we owe them a life, which is priceless. But just because I'll never catch up doesn't mean I can give up trying. It's important for me to show my gratitude as often and genuinely as possible. I think my Mom appreciates how much I am truly grateful for what she does for me. Because my siblings are often short in the gratitude department, I think it means all that much more for me to show thankfulness since she doesn't get it often enough.

But I still feel guilty and pathetic for having to accept her generosity to begin with. I know that for me to move ahead, I need to clear my blemished past. I need a license to do anything. I can't get a job without a license, and I can't pay my fines without a job. So I'm stuck in this vicious cycle. So I know that without accepting her help, I may never be able to help myself enough to ever repay her. So the fact that she paid off my NH fines is AMAZING! And she has promised to help me take care of the other states as she is able.

Even though in some ways I have reverted, like by moving back in with my Mom, and not having a job, accepting money to live from Mikey and my family, I still feel as if overall I am moving ahead. Not having the closest relationship with my family, harboring resentments, was blocking me from being happy and healthy. Working as hard and as long hours as I was just to scrounge by was causing such high levels of stress that it was making me physically ill. I was not happy being so isolated from my family, hours away with no license. If anything went wrong we were basically on our own. We were at least a half an hour from any of the few friends we had out there. If our car broke down, if we needed to borrow ten dollars for gas, if we needed someone to go to the doctors with us, it was always an ordeal. Now we have a support system in my family. They can be annoying, they can be lazy and emotionally volatile. But they will make sure that someone drives me to the clinic every day, no matter what. There is always someone there to talk to or ask a favor of, and it's a really satisfying feeling.
I'm beginning to feel as if I'm regaining a physical and emotional balance that I have not had for quite some time. My body is readjusting itself to not have to deal with as much stress and anxiety ALL THE TIME. I can finally relax, I don't feel like I'm fighting just to keep my head above water anymore. I don't have to take care of everything all by myself, I know my Mom will make sure we have food and electricity, whether we pay her or not, those things will be there. That's an amazing luxury that I have not had for over ten years. When my Mom doesn't see me struggling right in front of her, day in and day out, it's easy to think that we're doing fine. Especially since I won't tell her we're not unless something horrible has happened. So all this time, my brothers and sister have been benefitting from my Mom's generosity and I've been trying to go it alone. I should have accepted her help when I was younger and maybe I wouldn't be here now, in this humbling situation, at thirty-one years old. But here I am, Nellie the Late Bloomer (has anyone ever read the children's book, 'Leo the Late Bloomer? It's awesome.), but at least I feel as if I might actually be blooming, finally.

Anyway, here I go on and on, yap yapping about myself, as usual. I am, generally, my favorite topic. Aren't all Bloggers a little self-centered? We have to be to think we're interesting enough to publicly present our thoughts. Who are we to think anyone cares?

It's Mikey's Birthday today. He's thirty-two. He's been wanting to go to the casino in CT for his B-day for a while now. But, in typical Mikey and Nellie fashion, we didn't do our planning ahead of time and now we have to go a week after the original date of his actual birthday. It's also my brother Sam's birthday on March first, so we thought, since Sam and Mikey get along so well, that we would invite Sam along. He got wicked excited about it and then we realized that you have to be twenty-one to go to the CT casinos, and he's just turning twenty. So we found a place in upstate NY, called Turning Stone, and you only have to eighteen for that one. But it's, like, five hours away from us. And I didn't think, because I AM an idiot, about getting my methadone. Because we want to get a hotel room and stay for the weekend, so I'll need to set up host dosing somewhere. But since I just transferred clinics I'm not sure how cool they are about setting up guest dosing at another clinic. I imagine they'll be cool enough about it but since they have so many patients I don't think they'll be up for rushing the paperwork through on my account, and due to my own poor planning. So we're setting it up for next week. Hopefully it will be fun. I'm not really big into gambling, but I'll keep myself busy while they do guy stuff. That's kind of why I want to make it a group trip, so Mikey really enjoys himself and can play the games he wants to play.

But for tonight we're just making the dinner of his choice and this raspberry cream layer cake. Then he's getting some money to go toward the casino trip. And I think my brother's getting a laptop, thanks to me. My Mom was all talking about getting him a drum. And I was like, "Mom, Sam doesn't even know how to drum. And I've really never even heard him talk about wanting to learn". And she replied something along the lines of "Well, maybe he'll get into it, if I get him one. It will give him something to do". So I suggested a new laptop might be better because he spends all his time on the computer making videos and stuff. And he's been bitching, like, every day about how old, slow, and crappy his computer is. So, now, I believe that is what he's getting. I love him, but he's a spoiled little brat for sure. But at least I won't have to let him use mine anymore. Thankfully, because I spent, like, fifteen minutes this morning wiping the goop spots off the screen. I don't know how they manage to destroy things as quickly as they do, and with so little contact. It's a skill really.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a good day ahead of them. Everyone likes Friday's, right? It's the end of the week for a lot of people. It's almost March, almost Spring. Happy Friday.

Rainy Day Wednesday

2010-02-24T13:25:00.000-08:00

Rain, rain, most people would say go away, but not me. I like the rain. I may feel differently if it were to rain all day, every day. I lived in Portland, Oregon one fall, and I must say that I did get a bit tired of the rain there. But in general, I like that the whole world around me seems darker all day long. I like the slower pace of a rain day, cops don't want to get out of their cruisers so less people are pulled over, stores aren't as crowded because people stay in.

Ever since I read 'Another Roadside Attraction' by Tom Robbins, I make an effort to walk from my car to the house or store or whatever. By running you don't really get any less wet, all you do is stress yourself out and hunch yourself up. There's nothing wrong with getting a little wet anyway.

I had to do a lot of driving today in the rain. I don't mind that either. It's a little annoying being around other cars and the shit they spray up on the windshield, but it can be kind of pretty and relaxing, just watching the drops slide down the glass and get swooshed away. I had to drive my Mom to the doc for cortisone injections for pain in her neck or something. She can't drive herself home after the procedure because she's in pain and tired. So we did that today, and now I'm doing the dinner thing. I just put my dough for a blueberry pie in the fridge to chill. And we're having stuffed peppers and collard greens. Collards are really good if you tear them into smaller pieces of leaf and then saute them in a wok with olive oil and salt. They come out tender and juicy, and they're SO good for you.

Anyway, I better get cracking. I just wanted to check in today in case this is the only moment I could get my hands on my computer. Between Mikey and brother, it can be hard. Good Evening!

Trash Day

2010-02-22T04:52:00.000-08:00

I love, love, love having my laptop out all the time. I've been leaving it out in the living room so I have been able to write more often. Plus I've put the smack down on Mike using it ALL the time. I usually have to pry it out of his hands. But lately, the past few days anyhow, it's been the other way around. Technically, though, it's mine. But I can't really be like that because, technically, all the income we live off of right now is his. So who needs to push pennies, really?

Oh, what am I doing? Monday is trash day and I always, always, always wait until the very last minute to put the trash out. I always start to get it together on Sunday night, but I never finish. So I really should be out there doing it right now. I'll be back.

Eeww, my brothers, and my sister, actually, smoke like chimney's. And they have this nasty little habit of putting their cigarette butts into cans of soda, beer, red bull, whatever they may have handy. A plain old drinking cup will do just fine if there is any amount of liquid in the bottom to put out the butt. It's F'n disgusting. Especially for the person who ends up cleaning it out of the cup after it's been sitting there stewing for who knows how long. But it's even worse when you're out in the cold, lugging the recycling, and one of those cans falls out of the bin, onto your thinly gloved hand and seeps into the wool, leaving a lovely ass and water scent. Yippy!

Well, I better get on with my day. My Mom is coming home from CT or RI, or wherever she is, today. I think my brother is coming home with her too. But maybe not since he apparently met a woman last night as he was coming back from a movie. I have yet to collect all the details, but I will definitely dish when I do. It's SO exciting. He really needs a girlfriend. He has dated the same girl on and off for almost ten years. They finally broke up, hopefully for good, just a couple months ago. She really wants to get back together, but he's had enough. I hope this new girl is cool and things work out. This could be the best thing that could EVER happen to him, as long as she's not a drug addict. I can't wait for him to come home and tell me more!

Anyway, I have a ton of cleaning to do, as usual. So I better run. I have so much I want to write about so I'll be posting again soon. Everyone must be SO excited that I now have a new, Oh so accessible, location for my laptop. And now I can write about nonsense and housework ALL DAY LONG!!! Whoo hooo!

Yeah, Right. I'll try to spare you somewhat. I don't have a lot of self-control though. So beware.

Coffee, Bud, and Cleaning

2010-02-21T13:10:00.000-08:00

Most people would enter our house and see that it was really clean and well put together. On the surface it is, more often than not, vacuumed, dusted, and organized. But if you were to open any number or drawers or closets, you would be confronted with a mess that would assault all your senses.

I love my Mom, dearly; but she is extremely disorganized beneath the surface. It matters more to her that everything look at ease and pulled together upon first glance. I would rather clean things from the inside out, creating a more thorough feeling of clean. That generally means that things will look messy while the project is being completed. But then there is longer lasting harmony and cleanliness because it's easier to keep a space tidy if it is not overcrowded and chaotic.

That being said, her refrigerator has always been a point of disagreement between us. I like my fridge to be very clean and easy to navigate. That means no dried milk flaking upon the shelving. No puddles of maple syrup. No molding food, no rotten meat. And I like to be able to see everything I have, or else it doesn't get used soon enough and goes bad, hence we wasted a bunch of money. But my Mom must figure that strangers don't generally go poking around in your fridge, so it's not one of her top priorities. Vacuuming is her thing. Since I can remember we constantly are getting on my Mom's case for vacuuming a million times a day. There will be, like, three crumbs on the floor and she has to vacuum right under your feet. She's always picking up cups of juice and coffee while you're still drinking it and dumping it in the sink and washing the cup. But she WILL NOT clean the refrigerator, ever. It's truly disgusting. So ever since I was a kid I've cleaned the fridge when she's not around. Of course, it never takes long for it to return to a state of nastiness. But maybe with me doing the bulk of the cooking and shopping these days it will stay nice and clean.

So that's what I'm doing right now. I'm taking a little break, but I'm almost done. I just have to wash out the produce drawers and put them and their contents away. Then I have the little condiment shelves that are located on the inside of the door. They usually get pretty gross. And I'm trying to wash my Mom's linens for her before she gets home because my sister slept in her bed while she was away. And then I have to admit I've begun to understand the obsession with vacuuming. With this many dogs and people, a lot of dust and dander kicks up. So I have to vacuum and clean the floors and get the trash ready for pick-up tomorrow. Man, I really believe that for every family to be really happy and comfortable, there needs to be one parent who stays home to care for the family. It doesn't necessarily have to be the woman either. Sometimes men are better at taking care of the kids and the house while the wife loves her job. Whatever works, really. It could even be a sibling or other relative or family friend. It's way too stressful to try to fit in cooking, cleaning, bill paying, yard maintenance, and everything else that comes with a home while working a full-time job. I think that a big reason the family unit has deteriorated to such a degree in this country is because there is no caretaker at home making it a happy place to be. It's no better than being at school when both parents are too tired to care about anything so there is no conversation, no family dinner, no connection or relaxation.

So anyway, those are my quick thoughts during an afternoon smoke break. A little coffee, a little bud, and slopping goop from the fridge doesn't seem so bad after all.

Sunday - A Toast to the Best Day of the Week

2010-02-21T06:21:00.001-08:00

There is just something relaxing about Sundays. And it's not simply because it's the weekend and it's been ingrained in our heads to feel more relaxed on weekends, even if it's not the part of the week that we get off from work. Saturday is the weekend too, but it doesn't feel like Sundays, does it? No, Sunday's are special. They are slow and sweet and lazy. You can wear sweatpants or even pajamas all day and people won't judge you too harshly, because it's Sunday. You can eat a lot and go for long walks, and feel as if it's just the perfect day for it. No matter the weather, or the season. I love Sunday.

So it's a pretty early start for me today. I still haven't rectified all my fines in order to get my driver's license back, but I still need to drive to the clinic everyday. Most days Mike drives me which I really appreciate because he hates to do it. But I really like to take that morning drive alone. It gives me time to wake up and think without having to deal with anyone else's crap. I like to get up early when no one else is up and the house is quiet. I feed the dogs, let them out and build a fire. I usually clean up the kitchen from the night before so that when I get home and everyone's milling about I don't have to clean with them crawling all around me like ants. So even though I shouldn't have, I drove myself this morning and took a chance. When I can drive my Mom's car nobody even looks twice at me unless I'm speeding. She has a nice, new, silver Volvo and I love driving it. It's smooth and has a loud sound system. There's not too many things I like more than a Sunday morning, in a nice car with the music blasting. I'm one of those people who dance in the driver's seat. I smack my hand to the beat on the steering wheel. I have to use cruise control or else I'll be driving along singing my head off, pounding my fist in the air and then look down and realize I'm going ninety. Yikes!

But I made it to the clinic and back, no problems. Thank you God, for watching over me, like, all the time, even when I don't deserve it. And I've said hello to my dogs, put the groceries away, tidied up and it's only nine-thirty. I still need to eat something. I'm the only one in my family, besides Mike, who eats breakfast. In fact, they hardly eat anything decent before three or four in the afternoon. And then they wonder why they are emotionally unbalanced. If I don't eat healthy, filling meals at least twice a day, with snacks in between, I want to murder anyone who looks at me sideways. I don't know why they do it to themselves. I believe it's pure laziness. Because if I make food they want to eat mine. Especially my Mother, she's the worst when it comes to stealing food off your plate. I hate that!

Anyway, just wanted to throw some blah, blahing out there. A toast to the best day of the week.

Sunny Morning

2010-02-20T05:47:00.000-08:00

Goooood Mornin' To Ya! (You have to say that with a Jamaican accent, or it just doesn't work)

It's a beautiful, sunny day here on the coast of Southern NH. We have a busy, busy schedule ahead of us here. Lots of chores to do today, cleaning, shopping, cooking. Ten dogs who all need a walk.

I'm totally obsessed with the Dog Whisperer, which really shouldn't be too surprising considering how many canines I have at my home. I really want to have all the dogs get along with everyone in the house, and all the other dogs. Right now, my Mom has two dogs, Seneca and Lizzy. They are really easy going and well-behaved. Then my sister has a little Bijon (I don't think that's how that is spelled, those little white fluffy dogs) who is friendly for the most part. Sometimes she shrieks when you go to pick her up and she'll growl and snarl at the other dogs if she gets jealous of another dog getting attention. Then there are all my dogs, all seven of them, who are terrible with any people but us. They are good with other dogs as long as it's not ALL of them against the others. If they get a "my pack" vs "your pack" thing going on they just lunge repeatedly at the other dogs and bark, and bark, and bark until one or the other group of dogs is pulled away. We can bring up to three of them at a time upstairs and introduce them to the other dogs, and they are generally okay. They may hide under the couch or crouch by our feet. If they try to growl or lunge at one of my Mom's dogs, we have to put them on their backs. They're getting a lot better, with people too. It's hard for them to get enough exercise in the winter. They get cold quickly, even if I put doggie jackets on them. And the booties they make for dogs are hideous and useless. They always end up flopping off the feet one at a time as you're walking along. You have to be absurdly vigilant about watching to make sure they stay put on the dog's feet. But all they are is a canvas and rubber sack with a velcro band meant to be used to strap the sack around the lower leg, or ankle, I suppose, of the dog's leg. Inevitably they slip off the sleek fur of any dog. I really don't have a better solution though, as far as dog shoes go. They best option I've encountered so far is a goopy wax-like substance that you smear on the pads of the feet before a walk in the snow or sludge. It's used, mostly, I think, on sled dogs. It keeps their feet sealed up from the elements. It seems to work pretty well as long as it doesn't get rubbed off too soon. It seems like it's mostly the salt that irritates their feet. That's when they start to hop around whining until you pick them up and wipe their feet off. So the point is, finally, that they don't get as much exercise in the winter as they should.

I know my rambling about my crazy number of dogs is just so interesting, but I have to get the hell out of here. I was sitting alone in the living room alone, eating my oatmeal and toast, writing my post, and then suddenly my brother, my sister, and Mikey all migrated to the same room. And they are smoking cigarettes all around me and it's making me feel like I'm going to puke. It's just too overwhelming, I feel as if each and every breath I take is killing me, slowly and with black mucus. I think I'll go for my walk and hit the store on my way home. I think I may have an evening alone tonight. Mike has a friend on vacation who needs his house heated with a wood stove and he needs his chickens fed. So Mike and my brother, Sam, are going to spend the night at the friends house with some of our dogs. And my sister is going out with her boyfriend. And my other brother is on his way to Rhode Island to pick up my Mom. It would be so, so nice to have a peaceful night to relax in a house that will stay clean for the night after I cleaned it. It won't be like it generally is, which is that I can't even tell I cleaned anything ten minutes after I clean it. I can't wait to have a relaxing night alone.

Just Another Winter Evening

2010-02-17T14:55:00.000-08:00

Tonight's Menu:

Pork Tenderloin with Honey-Butter Sauce
Roasted Gold and Red Beets
Rice
Artichokes with Melted Butter
Warm Foccacia

For Dessert is the Oreo Cookie cake w/Vanilla Frosting I made last night.

Having a glass of Pinio Grigio and about to slice a bit of bread for an appetizer. Then I'll get the beets roasting. I have to check my recipe for the pork and then get the rice started. I also have some leftover squash. I may serve that too.

On another note, every day that goes by I wish to God that we can open the store soon. I need to go my separate way from Mikey. I mean, we can run the store together, but that's about it. i want him to be happy. Maybe I can help him find a girl (or whatever) who he likes. I know that once I really put my mind to it, it shouldn't be hard for me to find another guy. I admit, it's easier for girls. I'm small and pretty. I'm smart and I like to cook and I just want to have a family to take care of. And soon, hopefully, I'll own half of a thriving business. It should be easy to find a rich, handsome man who wants to have passionate sex every night, right? Come on fellas, man up!!!
Uh oh, I think maybe I drank too much wine on an empty stomach. I'm being honest and, by default, vulgar. I can't help it. I know I'm a little chubby, but for real. Most men would be all over that butt. I'd rather have some tit and ass than be a skinny rail. I'm just so sick of dealing with whiny ass Mike. he's good friend, but we can't live together forever. I'm just not physically satisfied. I don't know how he can be. As soon as I know he can take care of himself because we're making money. And we can get him his own place. Right now I sleep on the couch upstairs every night. It's cleaner, cooler, and I'm not near Mike. I love him as a friend, but I know I can find more passion.

Just opened an old hunk of unused French Brie to have wit my Foccacia so I don't throw up before dinner. It will probably take longer than I have to soften to the desired consistency. And I think I just heard the Honda, which means I may puke anyway when I have to listen to Mike complain about how his back hurts, some more.

Oh, here he is. So he wants to play his dumb ass Mafia Wars and stupid ass Facebook. So I get to go make dinner and clean up the kitchen, vacuum, feed the animals, and all that crap while he smokes up and dicks around on the computer. And I'm supposed to be all enraptured, yeah, right.

Until Later.

Oh, Quit My Bitching Already....

2010-02-15T11:59:00.000-08:00

Despite all my bitching and complaining, I am surprisingly easy to satisfy. I like good food, good wine, and good company. I am sublimely content with a beautiful day and a little time for a walk with my dogs. I like a good bud, a clean bowl, and a safe place to smoke. I am happy with a clean, soft pair of socks. A sunny spot on a cushy couch, with a clean blanket and a book is a perfect afternoon.

Speaking of walks and afternoons, I better be going before the sun goes down anymore and it gets chilly. My little dogs get kind of wimpy if it's too cold.

But I must say before I depart, I am a Chiropractor convert. I just had my first chiropractic experience and I have to admit that it was amazing. It was as if my head was floating above my neck after he cracked it the second time. I feel as if little men jest finished scraping the cement out from between my vertebrae. And he said I wasn't really that bad. That makes me seriously wonder what other people feel like. I thought my arm was going to freeze and I'd never be able to move it again. I'd stretch and massage it and it would only help a bit. But between my massage last week (that I only got because my Mom decided not to go to her appointment so I got it) and this guy today, I feel like a new person.

I have to say to anyone who has a kinked neck or throbbing back muscles: GO to the CHIROPRACTOR!!!! NOW!!! I swear It WILL HELP!!

Happy Valentine's Day - No Hater's Allowed

2010-02-14T06:34:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day!!

I know that many, many people really hate Valentine's Day. I can understand why people dislike this holiday for various reasons; I, however, will always celebrate Valentine's Day happily. It serves it's purpose by bringing up my spirits during an otherwise long, cold time of year. I have celebrated some Valentine's alone and been a little depressed. It's great if you have someone to spend the day with, just the two of you. But if you don't, I think it can be just as nice to celebrate with family or friends. This year I am making a dinner party for Mike and I and my younger brother Sam is here with us so he's going to eat with us. My sister may be with us as well if she ends up getting home soon enough. I kind of hope she doesn't make it because she puts me on edge. I never know when she's gonna freak out and start swearing at people. And if her boyfriend is with her I'll be really disappointed. He really grates on my nerves. His voice annoys me as much, if not more than, that aaaahnt, aaahnt alarm clock buzzer sound. And I hate that sound.

Anyway, it is now hours after I originally began this post. Shortly after beginning, as usual, my computer was usurped by Mike so he can play his Mafia Wars (I hate Mafia Wars). And I've been cooking and baking all day now for my Valentine's Day Family Feast. We're having currant scones and sugar cookies that my Mom made for us before she left for VA with my other brother. That's a whole other story involving a KKK affiliated police officer and a sawed-off muzzle loader. That will have be a tale for a different holiday. Perhaps President's Day. That would be more fitting anyhow.

Let's end this rant with a favorite topic of mine: Food, of course. Keep in mind that I am aware that the combination of food is bizarre. It's because today's feast began in my mind as a tea party. But a combination of events and circumstances has led me to combine tea with dinner. So we have a sort of mish mash of desserts and tea cake type items, mixed with a hearty winter dinner. Besides what my Mom made, we're having lamb stew, chicken salad tea sandwiches, Madeleine's, deviled eggs, and strawberries with whipped cream. I'm really bummed because I tried to make eclairs and I really, really screwed them up. I love, love, love chocolate eclairs. I may try again later tonight. If I'm up for it.

Anyway, I hope everyone has an alright, at least, night. No moping allowed. I hate that!

Pride and Pot Roast

2010-02-08T11:20:00.000-08:00

Moving in to my Mom's home has taken its toll on my pride. Being able to take care of myself has always been something I was proud of. I didn't always do the best job of things on my own, but I always managed to do well enough. But as I get older I have begun to realize that I'm not moving forward very quickly, in fact, hardly at all. I live week to week and barely scrape by. And I know I set myself up to have a hard time by moving out so young to begin with. And I keep telling myself that there are plenty of people who have to move back in with their parents at one time or another because of hard times. I think sometimes I'm too hard on myself. I just want to be able to take care of myself but not have to struggle so much. We're paying my Mom rent every week, admittedly it's less than what our apartment cost. But we do a ton of chores around the house to make our stay less of a burden.

Less complaining and explaining about nothing worth wasting time on.....Let's focus on something I love: food. I've been making a pot roast lately that has definitely become something I will keep in my repertoire for handy, easy, yummy dinners. It's really so fricken easy I can't believe it. But it seems like it must have taken forever and required so much preparation once you set it on the table.
I start by looking for the least expensive cut of meat that is appropriate for the recipe. The first time I used a hunk of shoulder roast and the second time I used a bottom round. I had no preference other than whatever was cheaper and at least three and a half pounds. Enough to feed me, Mikey, Sam, Scooter, and my Mom. And we have extra meat that can be used to make a Shepard's Pie tonight. Anyway, then all that's left to do is brown the meat on all sides in a big, heavy-duty, metal pot with a tight fitting lid. Use just a bit of oil in the pot for browning. Once browned, add a bunch of chopped onion or a handful of boilers. I was so excited recently to learn about boiling baby onions for a couple minutes then transferring them to ice water to cool which makes popping them out of their skins super simple. They just slide right out with a little squeeze. Awesome. So anyway, add the onion, shallots, garlic or a mix and let those soften for a few minutes. Oh, I also rubbed salt, pepper, and some various Italian seasonings and a tiny bit of butter (I just LOVE butter) on the meat prior to browning. Once Onions are softened, the last remaining step is to add about a half a cup of wine to the pot. Let the whole shebang come to a simmer and then turn the heat to a very, very low setting and basically just let it sit for about three hours or so until the meat seems to almost come apart. Yummy.

I also tried a new chocolate cake recipe that I found on the Bon Appetite website. It was a bit more dry and crumbly than I would have liked. But it still managed to seem fluffy while not quite moist enough. The flavor was very good though, either way. The thing that made it good in the end was really the frosting. It used no butter and instead used hot cream and marscapone cheese. Wicked Good.

Coming Home to be Housekeeper

2010-02-03T14:00:00.000-08:00

I kind of feel like I have accepted a job as a live-in nanny/housekeeper. I knew that part of the reason my Mom was so accepting of Mike and I moving in, with all our dogs no less, was that she wanted help taking care of the house and my siblings. I guess I just didn't realize that by help she meant do everything while she stayed with her new boyfriend three states away.

It should be noted, as well, that all my siblings should be able to care for themselves by now. Should be able to and able to are very different things, however. None of them can hold a job, and they have no way of earning any income, so my mother supports them all. This is not really something she is able to do easily either. They are under the impression that my mother is a bajillionaire. In reality, we are lucky to be considered lower middle class on a good day.

I moved out originally when I was seventeen, partially because I wanted to live with my boyfriend at the time but mostly because I couldn't stand living in the mayhem that had become our life. My parents had just got divorced and my Mom was a basket case. She didn't know what to do with the three teenagers and one pre-teen she was left to raise on her own. She was overwhelmed by all the responsibilities of caring for an enormous, old, falling apart Victorian home. And her heart was broken on top of it all. So it's not surprising that we were all, very suddenly, left to our own devices. And perhaps due to the fact that my parents had, for a time, fancied themselves ritzy, they had taught us shockingly little that would come in handy in the real world. And we all know that the school system doesn't do any of us a lick of good when it comes to filling out job applications or opening a bank account.

I had been lucky in that I had both parents in my life for the longest amount of time. I had also been lucky in many ways (although also unlucky in many ways) because my parents were able to send me to boarding school for most of high school. So I was super fortunate to gain skills there that my brothers and sister just didn't learn. For instance, I have a lot more discipline than any of them because I had to live by very strict rules and uphold firm expectations that taught me perseverance. They are still under the impression that everything should be handed to them on a silver platter, literally. But I really feel like we all didn't learn many skills which could have proved useful when it came time to make lives for ourselves. Our parents were terrible with money, and so are we. Although, I really believe I am accurate in saying that I am the most frugal and thoughtful when it comes to finances. That's really not saying much when the people I'm comparing myself to are members of my immediate family.

For example, my brother owes my Mom a ton of money. He has been living off her with no job for months. He was arrested in Virginia right after Christmas carrying a sawed-off shotgun (long story. But it sounds worse than it was. He was hiking part of the Appalachian Trail and he was in town waiting for a package and he didn't know his gun was a couple inches too short. What an idiot, I know). So he owes my Mom for the lawyer and travelling expenses, the whole lot. And finally he gets his taxes back, and what does he do? First thing, he goes out and buys a PlayStation Three and a bunch of new games. And then he wants to sit three feet from the T.V. in the living room and play video games all day. My Mom is furious, to say the least, and he has no idea why "she's being such a bitch". Can anyone believe that? I find it difficult and I witnessed the whole thing!

Anyhow, back to the overwhelming amount of responsibility I have just recently had dumped into my hands. My Mom opened a household bank account from which I must purchase groceries and any household supplies or necessities. I have to help my brothers get to their appointments and pick up their medication. I have been doing most of the cleaning and cooking when my Mom is home and all of it when she is away. I stacked the wood we just got, and the pellets - after we called around for the best prices. Holy Shit, it's never-ending. If I thought I was a maid to Mikey before, I just didn't know the half of it.

Anyhow, enough bitching and moaning for now. I'm making a pot roast and I'm worried it's not going to be juicy and tender but dry and tough. Oh, I hope not, it's taken hours! And I'm also trying to assemble a cream tart that is going to be done around two a.m. if I'm lucky. Oh, sad you, I'm sure everyone cares just so much about my disastrous life. Not. Until later.

My Sister is Crazy...and making life Really hard.

2010-01-31T07:48:00.000-08:00

No time to write Anything! Ever! Living here is crazy. There are benefits but it IS in return for biting my tongue every second of every minute that my sister is in the room. And we are forced to be subjected to her craziness, anger, and malicious comments. My mother won't let anyone say anything back to her because it just makes it worse. I will try to write more later when I have a minute. I have to sit down in the basement and keep watch on the dogs and our belongings while my sister supposedly gets all her crap out of there. She's only had four years - but she has to do it NOW don't you know. If she had it her way, I would have had to get up from my hot breakfast and let her down there IMMEDIATELY. She wants what she wants, and she wants it NOW! Everything has to be an argument. Unless you are handing her money, you are an asshole out to get her. If she were not mu sister, Oh man, I just don't know what I would do. Certainly I would start by eliminating her from my life. Until later....

Blah, Blah, Blah....not much of nothing.

2010-01-15T11:20:00.000-08:00

Over in Chesterfield, NH we only had access to dial-up Internet. That must sound crazy to some people. I realize that now that we are living in an area where everyone has wireless Internet. This is the first time I have used the computer here in Exeter, NH, at my Mom's house. It's really fast. Cool.

It's been a really, really long time since I last posted. Sorry, I know that can be annoying even if I never really have much to say. It makes people worry that something bad may have happened, like an accident or overdose. I know it sucks to leave huge lulls in communication. But I do it to people all the time. Friends, family. I haven't e-mailed my Dad in months. It's terrible. I keep telling myself I'm going to write him TODAY. And then I don't. I just get so caught up in the daily grind that by the time I think of it again it's the next day and I'm in the car, nowhere near a computer. And then before I know it I'm falling asleep and then it's the next day again.

We've been moving from Chesterfield to Exeter the last week or so and it's been typically hectic. Anyone who has ever moved knows what that's all about. The packing and hauling, the driving back and forth, having to scrub the empty apartment when all you want to do is say "fuck it" and leave all the crap you don't want. Don't worry, we didn't do that. In my opinion, we left it in quite nice condition. Especially since we own so many dogs. But the landlord was well aware of that fact when we moved in. It was one of the only ads we saw allowing dogs, that's why we ended up there at all. But anyway, we're done. Well, for the most part. We have some stuff that was outside and it'd frozen to the ground for now. He said we could get it in the spring once everything thawed. So that was pretty cool of him. I'm glad that the main event is over anyhow. Now I can try to make my space here as livable as possible.

Mike and I are currently living in the basement of my Mom's house. We have begun to remodel it so it will eventually be a small apartment. It's not really my plan to stay here for very, long so ultimately it will probably end up housing one of my siblings. I really hope we're not here more than two years at the very, very most. Not that I don't love my family, I do. It's just that I haven't lived with them for many years now. I went away to school when I was thirteen and lived there for two years. Then I lived at home for a year. But a little after the beginning of my senior year, when I was seventeen, I moved out again. This time though the environment was far from rigid and controlled. I moved in with my twenty year old boyfriend and I've pretty much been on my own ever since. I came to stay at my Mom's a few times over the years, but never for more then a few months at the most. So this is really huge for me to admit that I need my Mom's help to get anywhere in life. Mike and I are at the point where we are living week to week and can barely make ends meet, nevermind save any money. And then I made the stupid decision to take the dumb job and really fucked us up. So we either had to move here or go into serious debt. And we're hoping that living here will enable us to save some money and eventually open our store.

But my Mom needs a lot of help because she isn't really all that healthy and all my brothers and my sister and her boyfriend live here too. And my siblings don't work. So she totally takes care of all of them. So living here means I have an obligation to do what she asks of me. But it's a lot because I end up taking care of everything when I'm here. And now she's been staying with her new boyfriend for weeks at a time and leaves the house with everyone here. And now that I'm living here I've been made responsible for the household account to buy food and stuff for my brothers and the rest of us too. So even now I feel super rushed because I have to go to the store and buy hamburger to make a shitload of shepherd's pie for dinner. There are six of us. I actually like taking care of people to an extent but not when it's not appreciated and simply taken for granted. And they don't seem to realize that I need some time to put my clothes away so I can find my stuff. Any way.

I want to try to get back on here later tonight to see what everyone has been up to. But I really need to get my ass in gear right now.

Moving, Again.

2009-12-28T11:37:00.000-08:00

I just want to wish everyone a Happy Holiday Season. Hope nothing truly awful or traumatic happens to anyone. And I'm sorry that for a little bit I'm going to be posting infrequently. We are going to be moving to Exeter to live with my Mom. There's a whole bunch of things I have to say about that. Some good, some bad. But that's for another day. We kind of have to, financially. I haven't actually live, permanently, with my mother since I was seventeen. So this is going to be interesting. The only thing that makes it possible is that we are re-doing the basement to our own apartment. So it won't be so bad once it's settled. But that's going to be a bit.
But anyhow, we're packing now and going back and forth a lot. Once we have our stuff set up there I'll have a lot more time. Mikey's back with boxes though and he'll be irritated that I've been on the computer while he was gone. So...until later.

You Can't Always Get What You Want....and bad bosses.

2009-12-28T10:37:00.000-08:00

Uh-Oh. Not even one post later and I'm back to my bitching and complaining. The typical narcissistic blogger. Me, me, me....

Wow-ee. It's been a stretch since I've last posted. And a crap load has occurred in my absence. Where to begin....Well, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit, but I don't work at the health food store anymore. It just was not going to work out. I technically quit before I got fired but he got his two cents in before I left for sure. I have to clarify that I have only been really fired from one job. By "really" I mean I didn't quit first like in this instance and I really didn't see it coming. Most of my jobs I've left on good terms and stayed at for years. I worked at a farm in VT for four summers and a grocery store there for three years. I worked at a youth center for two years and the crappy truck yard even for fourteen months. I have had other jobs for six months here and there because I used to travel a lot and then when I went to school and such. But my point is that I'm generally a hard worker and very thoughtful. Even the whole time I used I worked full-time and my employer liked me. I still use him as a reference and I know he gives me a good one. So really it boils down to the fact that the owner was just too hard for me to work with. I kind of knew he was weird, but I didn't know the half of it until I really started to have a lot of contact with him. It just got to be unbearable. He called my co-workers idiots in the middle of the store in front of a bunch of customers. And then later that same evening he called the cashier stupid and too dumb to put the candy away correctly, also in front of customers. And that's just a blip in the craziness. There was a "procedure" for EVERYTHING! Now, I'm all for an organized, well-run workplace. But it got to be crazy. Mostly because if you didn't think to ask if there was a procedure for something and did it wrong, even once, he'd bug out and talk to you as if you were the biggest loser retard in the world. And how could you BE so STUPID as to not think to ask what the EXACT procedure was for letting a customer use the bathroom. I'm not making that up either. There was a procedure for that which needed to be followed to the T. Apparently, we were not allowed to hand the customer the bathroom key, we were supposed to unlock the door and let them in and hang up the key and then wait for them. Because, he said, there was too much theft and we needed to check the bathroom after each customer use to make sure they didn't steal anything and also to check cleanliness. Which, whatever, a bit insane, but if that's what he wants, whatever. But I asked my co-workers if she could use the bathroom first and they said sure. They didn't mention anything about a specific procedure for this instance, so I figured common sense could prevail. But he (the owner) must have heard her or saw her leave the bathroom and he found me to yell at me about not asking about "procedure". This is when he called everyone idiots. It was really humiliating and that's when I started to lose it. I knew it wasn't going to work at the end of that day. But things didn't blow until the following day.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when he told me I should have finished putting the day's order away "hours ago" and why was I SO far behind. I was crushed. It was a huge order and it was the second time ever that I had put the whole thing away alone and only maybe the fifth time ever I had even touched an order there at all. And I had always worked with someone else. I still didn't know where a lot of products went. And I thought I had done an awesome job. Other employees had even come in throughout the day and commented on how much I had done so fast. Not to mention I had found products on the shelves that had been out of code date since JUNE! I must have found a total of thirty products in the time I worked there that were out of date. And rather than take them off the shelf, he'd just mark them down. Even dairy products, like yogurt. I also moved almost four shelves of back-stock onto the store shelves. Stuff that he was ordering new because he didn't even bother to see what he had. You have to understand that this store was rather small. So it's kind of really bad that stuff was so disorganized and not up to code. They kept saying that couldn't find any good help and they'd been so understaffed for so long. Now I know why. Nobody wants to work for this guy. During the interview I said (and I don't know how this came up) I was wary of businesses that always had an ad in the paper because it made me think they couldn't keep employees for a reason. Maybe they were bad places to work. He got all weird and started to explain why he always had an ad in the paper. I didn't realize that he was always running ads because I didn't generally get the paper that I found the ad in. I had no idea that I was talking about him. But now I know it's a good rule to follow.

Anyhow, after he dissed my work I was pretty frustrated and I wasn't really in to staying late to finish the order which I had been fully prepared to do before. You have to know that he had insulted me at least ten times that day already and I had received it gracefully. Despite the fact that most of the times he should have realized it was stuff I was hearing for the first time. He would yell at me or correct me over stuff that had happened way before I ever worked for him. Like stuff with price tags in the wrong place. (Every item had a SPECIFIC location in which the price sticker must be placed. Or else.) Or if stuff wasn't set up the way he wanted it. Or there was a lettuce leaf or a drop of water on the floor. It could be anything. And he would talk to you as if he just caught you stealing a hundred dollars out of the register. He'd say things all the time like, "Because you didn't remember to write that pudding down as a credit on the bills, I forgot to call it in. Now it's too late and that's going to be a loss for me you know". And then he'd give you this look like you idiot, how are you still alive. That really happened by the way. Except you should know that it was me in the first place who happened to notice that the Indian pudding we had just received had a code date that was bad in about four days. So if we had put it out we would have ended up eating most of it because it would have gone bad way before it sold. But they were totally surprised I caught it to begin with. Because, of course, I was new so when I noticed it I asked him what he wanted to do about it, he told me to tape it up and where to put it. I swear he didn't remind me to write it down. I think at that time, I'd seem him do that with some items but only after the fact or from afar. I hadn't been specifically instructed. And maybe that's common knowledge but I just didn't realize. And he was throwing way too much at me at once anyhow for me to remember everything I'm told after hearing it once. Obviously he knew about it because we had a lengthy conversation about the whole "procedure" of where it needed to go and how. He also checked the bills after the order was complete to make sure I checked every item off and hadn't done anything totally off base. So that was another opportunity for him to catch my mistake of not writing down the pudding. So how is it all my fault? How does he bear no responsibility? In my short time there I heard him tell another employee that he never forget anything important at least. And very rarely did he forget anything at all. I swear he thought he was the most perfect, flawless human in the world.

Could I get in legal trouble if I mention him and his business by name? Is there a site on which employees or former employees can warn other potential employees about bosses who are abusive or unethical? There should be. There are sites where customers can tell potential customers about how pleased or not they were with their escort, or prostitute, for the night. If we have that, then we should definitely have the same type of thing for the world of employers. Don't people have the right to be informed of a potential issue with an employer? Do they belittle their employees, do the make sexual comments, do the pay late or not at all, do they give breaks or just pretend to? Things like that are important and you can't ask them in an interview. No, on the contrary, the person being interviewed has to kiss butt, like the employer doesn't need employees just as much as we need an employer. You can't run a business, in many circumstances, with no employees, right? So why isn't the relationship more give and take?

Well, what it came down to it that he wasn't paying me enough to do the job at double speed, never make a mistake, EVER, and on top of all that be his emotional punching bag because he had a mental illness combined with massively low self-esteem. In the end, though, it has been a blessing in disguise. But I have to run now so I'll have to update on all the other news later. But trust me, there are BIG happenings.

Whoa, thanks for letting me get that out. It's been eating at me for days. I really wanted that job to work out. I loved the actual work. And the other employees were cool. The hours were great, the location convenient. But alas, not everything is what we wish it would be.

It's so Fricken Cold!

2009-12-18T04:29:00.000-08:00

Cold! So Cold! I hate the cold without enough snow. We have some snow but not enough to insulate the earth here in NH.

But anyhow -and I have to make this fast - I've been thinking a lot about how I can change the tone of this blog to be more positive and interesting. Really, nobody wants to read about someone's shitty life day after day. If there is no humor in it especially.
So I've finally ditched my shitty job and have a better one. In fact, working at the new place has reminded me of what I was interested in before I became obsessed with H. I wanted to go to school to be an herbalist and I was really into health and natural medicine in general. So I need to make that a priority in my life once more. It will make me feel better and may be more interesting to read about also. This is a rushed post since I should be getting ready for work. So as I am re-learning a lot of the stuff I need to know to be good at my new job, I thought I could also write about it a little bit here. Of course I'm sure I won't be able to help myself from bitching just a little bit. But we'll see if I even stick to it. I have a knack at no follow through. Have a wonderful, frigid day everyone!

Monday Funday

2009-12-14T06:14:00.000-08:00

It's Monday. I'm sure everyone was already aware of that. I didn't have to work on Saturday so it was like a real weekend for me. But Now, here it is, Monday. And I have a million things to do. First on my list was to figure out where the heck Mikey's unemployment money disappeared to. I figured I'd check the account balance on the freak chance that it just simply showed up over Sunday sometime; not actually expecting that to happen though. But it DID! It's here! Freakin' weird, if you ask me. But also lame, because it was probably actually in there all weekend just not showing. So it ruined my day on Saturday and Sunday because I thought we had no money. It would have been fine if one of the people we spoke to from the bank or the online site on Saturday had simply said, "The website is experiencing some difficulties. If your money was sent then it will probably have gone through by Monday. But don't get upset by what the screen is showing because it is inaccurate". That's all, but nobody had anything other than, "I don't know. You'll have to call unemployment." As if we were just crazy people who thought we had money we didn't. We tried to explain that unemployment has a website too. They showed that the payment was sent on 12/10 and it didn't go through until today. That's sucky. I hate money and banks and payments, it's all too rigid for my artistic sensibilities ; ).

Ick. I have to go to the clinic still. I hate the clinic. I like methadone, it works for me. But I think it's crap that I can't get take-homes because I smoke weed. That's it. Just the weed and the done for me. But I still have to go there every day. Even though I'm one of, like, two percent of the patients who has a full-time job and is trying to finish school. I still get treated like a degenerate because I smoke a fricken herb. It's not as if I'm still booting dope, so seriously. And they are only open until eleven-thirty so I really have to run. Super convenient, huh? Only ten on the weekends. And they bitch at you if you get there after quarter of ten because they don't want to be there after ten still dosing, they want to be closing up by ten-thirty. If they open at six, that's only a four hour day. Oh, poor, finger-to-the-bone things.

Well, to the clinic, then laundry, then back home to get ready for work which I only have to be at for two hours tonight. Kind of silly - but money is money, right.