zeptember

I had a disappointing phone conversation with my father about an hour ago.

He called to wish me happy early new year and went on and on about how buddy-buddy he is with my brother, now that he’s helping my brother run his skate shop. It’s all he ever talks about these days.

Here’s the backstory before the rest of today’s story:

My father and brother have been on really bad terms since about 1992, when Dad had to bail him out of a ten year prison sentence. My brother started off as The Good Son - an A student in high school. But by his senior year, my brother snapped. His grades started falling. He began doing drugs. By his first year out of high school, he was dealing drugs. I became The Good Daughter because I was in college. But even I had a falling out with my father and he kicked me out of his house less than a year after I graduated college. My brother continued to be the Bad Seed while I repaired my relationship with Dad - my brother knocked up a high school chick who was only 15 years old. He married her after her older brothers beat the living shit out of my brother, and both families threatened rape charges and disowning him for his actions.

By the time I moved to California, I was The Good Daughter again. My father trusted me with his Last Will and Testament information and appointed me executor - the highest most noble deed assigned to me ever.

But this year, my brother finally, after all these long years, repaired his relationship with our father, and begged Dad to help him with the bookkeeping on his business. After several months of Dad being wary, and making sure this wasn’t another scam on his son’s part (he’s been involved in several scams over the years and has run from the law as recently as two years ago), my dad finally agreed to help his son run the business. Things have been very good - almost too good, between them, ever since.

Yes, it is true that I’m still mistrustful of the situation. I know my brother. It’s just a matter of time before he fucks up again. But my dad ain’t gettin any younger. If he makes dad happy from now til death, that would rule. Here’s hoping on Dad’s behalf that my brother can live up to the expectation. But at the same time, I’m really not holding my breath. I’ll be really sad for my dad if his son disappoints him again.

This almost brings us up to tonight’s phone call. Let’s however not forget that last month, I borrowed a large sum of money from my father very reluctantly to make ends meet, because I have spending issues. Dad went over my budget with me and lectured me as to be expected, and lent me the money. I’m not to pay him back until I have the entire lump sum - no partial payments. This is what puts me back into teenager mode. I am under his thumb again. I’m just the kid. I’m the bad seed again. I’m on probation. I’m not to fail this test. I have to make good on my word, etc.

This brings us up to tonight. Dad asked what I was doing for NYE tonight. I said I was getting the house clean and also getting ready to go out with friends to a low key event.

I also mentioned that I was dying my hair purple.

My dad’s reply? “ooookay….” and not much else to say after that.

Then he said “don’t do drugs”. “be good”. “don’t drive drunk”….

Yeah, cuz purple hair equals drug use, apparently. I’ve fallen this far from him again, because I’ve borrowed money and I’m still dying my hair funky colours. I haven’t “grown up” yet. I’ve disappointed him.

The other day, he emailed me to ask if there was a chance he’d be a grandpa again, which is shorthand for asking when my man and I were gonna get married and have children.
I get this all the time from my mom and from my boyfriend’s father. But I never expected to hear this from MY father. He’s not usually that kind of person.

I wrote him back to thoroughly explain as tactfully as I could my position on why my man and I won’t be having children.

He wrote back a one-liner: “Hope your New Year brings you both good health and prosperity.”

Great. He’s disappointed in me. And today’s conversation didn’t help. I won’t bear him any grandkids and I’m still dying my hair purple. He must be thinking, “What a waste. What a failure. She’ll never grow up.”

And this brings me to my last journal entry - the one where I said I need to start letting go.

I’m not a kid anymore. I know I don’t want to breed. I know I’m not like the other adults out there. I know I’ll never be what the mainstream wants or needs. I need to be okay with that. I need to love my choices in life and respect myself as a mature grown-up in my own right.

This is part of what keeps me in depressions - the idea that I have to conform and please my elders and society. Why have I still not learned to pleasantly ignore all of that bullshit and live the life I want to lead for myself, guilt-free?

This is what I need to learn in 2007. I need to learn this well before my parents, especially my father, passes from this world. Because so long as I’m just the underachieving kid who’s always trying to please Dad, I won’t get anywhere emotionally in life. And if he goes before I’ve figured out I have a life of my own, there’ll be nothing to stop me from feeling like a complete and utter failure, and pressing the reset button.

2007 is a VERY important year for this reason.

Last night on the way home from work, I decided I want to redo my website and journal. I want to create custom rss feeds for my homepage. Failing that last night, I turned to a new journal design, which I’ve also been thinking about lately.

I succeeded with the journal design, at least.

The changes you see before you reflect change in the person as well. I got tired of all the depressing blue and black. I felt I was keeping myself in a cold depressive funk by the very colours and imagery I’d chosen to reflect my personality through this journal.

The new design I’ve picked and tweaked feels warm. I hope my overall tone begins to change as well. I’m tired of being the depressed pessimist with never-ending health problems. I want all that to change in 2007.

October 31st was my New Year’s Eve, and I’d started thinking about what changes I want for myself in the coming year. It took me about two months to even get used to the harsh changes that I plan for myself, and now, tomorrow, on the New Year’s Eve that is more widely acknowledged, I can officially throw the stone out to sea with the things I don’t want anymore.

I’ve realised in the last two months that I’d become an alcoholic again. I’d become chronically depressed again. I acknowledged consciously once more that all I ever talk about are my health problems. I realised that my grudge against my mother’s side of the family was at fever pitch again for no good reason. And then, to drive it all home, between December 17th and December 29th, I sprained my ankle while piss-drunk, threw out my back days later, got a horrible sinus infection, and got my usual debilitating period while still trying to recover from all the other injuries.

My first reaction of course was self pity and depression, along with the fatalist overtones I learned so well from my mother and her family. But I kept thinking of that song, and of my determination to finally GET IT on a conscious level.

I think I’m finally getting it.

Saturn is retrograde from December 5, 2006 until April 19, 2007.

According to Judy Collins of the Arizona Society of Astrologers, “A retrograde Saturn makes the individual seek a different kind of responsibility and purpose in life. The person may be challenged by either the father or other authority figures to take more responsibility for their actions. Through the past life experiences, they answer their critics with a slow persistence of reaching their goals in life. Where the planet is by house and where it rules shows the area where they will have to strive hard for success. A retrograde Saturn builds the character to accept small gains in the long process of success. Security issues need to be addressed in their present life and only when the ego does not interfere, does the individual feel a sense of peace. Saturn’s sign in the chart is where the person needs to address the demands and responsibilities of life.“.

Well hm. I don’t know how to do chart progressions. I’ve sat here for hours digging through my astrology books, before finally ordering a chart progression online from a site I’ve visited for years.

I do know where Saturn was at the time of my birth, though. Saturn was in the 2nd house of my natal chart. Not a good placement. Spells a life of financial trouble. I was set from day one to grow up in poverty and have financial woes. However, I firmly believe that I chose this path for myself, pre-incarnation.
It’s been a life-long struggle to overcome being so pissed off by my own karmic choice.

With that, I also know I won’t stop talking about my health issues as I continue to find a way to overcome them, but perhaps I can approach it without such a defeatist attitude.

In general, I want to start approaching what’s left of my life in a healthier manner for myself.
And by “what’s left of my life”, I mean exactly that. I have no idea when my life could end. I could live long or I could die before finishing this journal entry.

It feels good to think of letting go. I want to be able to believe that I can achieve letting go in 2007.

Susan Miller of Astrology Zone writes for this month’s Virgo forecast, “The past year has been a tough one for you, due to the eclipses, but you seem to have adjusted well. Pat yourself on the back for having shown so much strength and fortitude in the face of so many challenges, dear Virgo. I raise my glass of champagne to you.”

Thank you.

I went to work with worsening infection yesterday. Just barely got through the day. At the end of the day, george arrived. At least he was merciful enough to A) be on time and B) attack me after I got home.

As last night progressed, I missed two doses of Robitussin. I figured I’d be getting monster george cramps and that I’d need Tylenol 3. But as 10pm approached, my cough worsened and my throat grew more sore and scratchy by the minute. Finally, at 1am, I could stand it no longer. I woke up and took the Robitussin, whimpering from the sore throat.

Wouldn’t you know it, that’s when george decided to give me some lovely cramps!
So all night I was in and out of bed to either hack up lung butter or reheat the rice pad for my cramps.

This morning, my added fun was that I got the trots. I called in sick to work.

Bonus - I scored a doctor appointment this afternoon. Hopefully I can get me some cough syrup w/ codeine in it.

I can’t stop thinking of all the damage my body has taken since December 23rd. I need to ponder some more about what this means for me in the new year. The answer is obvious but I have not brought it forth consciously. Opinions?

1:45pm Edit: I just accidentally shattered a jar in the bathroom while changing clothes. I keep tallying up all the shit that’s happening to me or that I’m causing. I feel like I’m spiraling out of control. I just want it all to stop.

It was early afternoon at work when the scratchy sore throat turned nasty.
I sneezed and presto! Bloody yellow phlegm wad!
The coughing started shortly afterwards. I’d already had a bad sinus headache all damned day, but straight to bloody phlegm wads? My man didn’t ever get any of that! NOT FAIR!

So that, combined with pre-george pains made me one cranky bitch for sure. I got through my day without speaking much to anyone at work (but was my usual charming self on the phones), and got the hell out of there. I made it home in just under an hour, thanks to the fact that so many people are still on vacation.

I apologized to my boyfriend in advance, saying I’m as much at fault as he is for getting me sick cuz I let him get all cozy with me, BUT! I got sick and have no extra money to allocate towards doctor visits or even over the counter (OTC) medication.

To recap:

In the past ten days, I have:

• sprained my ankle
• thrown out my back
• obtained a sinus infection

And in the next 24 - 48 hours, I will also get george. And I’m still recovering from the first two issues on the list.

I am welcome to be as mopey as I please.

Well. It appears we’re having a swarm of earthquakes on the Hayward Fault. Four in one week so far, all ranging between 2.6 and 3.7 on the Richter Scale.
The Experts say that it’s nothing to worry about - swarms like this happen all the time. They say it is releasing stress on the fault line - that it’s not a harbinger of The Big One.

I of course don’t believe the Experts. I think that the fault is slipping. I don’t see stress relief by small quakes. I see slipping fault leading to huge quakes Real Soon Now.

Across the ocean today off the coast of Southwestern Taiwan, an earthquake between magnitude 6.7 and 7.2 struck in the ocean. What’s all going on in the Ring Of Fire?

I’m known for being negative, pessimistic and a bit of a doomsayer. I was, after all, raised that way.

When I avoid my boyfriend for a week to avoid the nasty cold he’s caught, for example, I mean it with good reason. However, with the Christmas holiday, I caved in and got cozy with my man. Today, just three short days later, I am paying for it. I have his cold. It ramped up really fast and led him to miss two and a half days of work.
For me it’s worse because george is slated to invade by tomorrow. I’ll miss work for that anyway, but with a hacking cold on top of george? That’s going to make me one cranky bitter bitch.

The cold, having george, and worrying about The Big One should do well to occupy me on this, the last week of 2006.

I don’t WANT it. It’s what I have to work with.

Saturday, we picked up our Seattlite friend from the train station and took him out to sushi, Christmas lights and Tiki. I am fortunate to have had two sugar daddies that night, cuz I didn’t pay a dime.

After we had dinner, we drove over to a neighborhood on the island that’s famous for nearly every house going over the top with Christmas lights. It’s dubbed Christmas Tree Lane. We walked up one side of the street and down the other side, gawking at some of the hideous houses. The worst crazy house had an American flag all done up in Christmas lights, with drummer boys on each side of it. We took some pix, maybe when I’m not so lazy, I’ll post some.

From the Christmas lights, we went on to the Tiki bar, where we got suitably smashed. Although I’m such an accomplished alcoholic, I think I was the more sober of the three of us, and I weigh much less. We each had at least three drinks. We came back to the house and stayed up chatting with our friend til after 2am.

Sunday, we all slept in nice and late, and then enjoyed a lengthy breakfast. Afterwards, we got ready to go on to our family destinations. We took our friend to the train station so he could go do Christmas Eve dinner with his family, and then we went on to my boyfriend’s father’s house to have dinner.

Today we had to get up relatively early to prepare food for a potluck gathering of friends, and of course to unwrap presents.
My man got me a SNOG CD, a bath tray, lots of bath soaps and salts, a genealogy book (a manual for researchers and writers!), “The Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook”, AND a Dr. Strangelove special edition DVD!
I got him the entire collection of the 1960’s TV series The Prisoner, as well as a sketch book by Alan Lee for Lord of The Rings, and the V for Vendetta graphic novel.

I also managed to get a couple loads of laundry done before we were off to our friend’s house. The early afternoon with friends lasted well into the evening, and we didn’t get home til about 10pm. It was a nice time spent in a low-key gathering - there were ten of us plus an infant, and we’ve all known each other for years. Over half the group is our regular Pissup Night group, so there was no social awkwardness for me. Woohoo!

The only downsides to this weekend were the fact that my back began locking up again today. I thought I was starting to recover, but before we even left to our friend’s house, my back began tightening. It grew worse over the course of the afternoon. I took two Soma while at my friend’s house, and I just took a 600mg Ibuprofen now. Hopefully I’ll be able to sleep tonight.

Speaking of sleep, it’s time to get my pajamas on and head to bed. I’m excited that I have leftover food from the potluck to take to work tomorrow - it’s one less thing to worry about having to prepare for the workday.

I hope you all have had a nice weekend and have enjoyed time off for whatever purpose. I was happy to have the free day, and even happier that our group of friends at one point had a round table rant about some of us having grown up in Fundamentalist households. It’s good to be understood. Many of us tonight it seems are non-Christian or downright athiest. All seem to still enjoy the idea of gathering on a free day off work, in spite of the meaning of the day at hand for others. I had a nice time.

Well, I didn’t get an appointment for tomorrow. The doctor is on holiday.

When I arrived back on the island from work this evening, I took a detour from the main drag to one of the side streets. As I drove, I passed a church, which was broadcasting a song. I checked the time - 6pm. That church always plays bell tolling songs at 6pm.

I say “plays songs” because this church is so lame that it has megaphones where bells should be in the bell towers, yet the music is of ringing bells. That annoys me to no end, because I’m a purist on so many levels.

As I passed the church, the music emanating evoked something emotional for me. My eyes welled with tears. I struggled to analyse my reaction. My boyfriend likes to compare me to Data from Star Trek: Next Generation, because I’m always coldly analysing things and I like to remark, “fascinating…”

Anyway, for the next two blocks, I scanned my memory for the name of the song that I’d just heard the church playing. In the process, I remembered that as a child into my early teen years, I LOVED Christmas. I used to start practicing singing all the Christmas songs I could find sometime around Thanksgiving. I’d tune into the classical music station so I could use the Christmas music played there as a sort of karaoke to practice my singing.
I felt sad that I’d changed so much, and I wondered WHY and HOW I changed the way I did. I was an innocent sheltered Christian up through early college. I’d began questioning Christianity as soon as it was shoved at me in fifth grade. I searched out other denominations of Christianity through my friends in sixth grade. Then I succumbed to my mom’s fundamentalist brainwashing. Through nearly all of my teenage years, I was innocent and obedient compared to my peers. I didn’t carouse with boys. I didn’t pierce my ears. I didn’t go out drinking.

The title of the song then came to me - Greensleeves.

And then bitterness replaced the sadness.

Greensleeves was the name of the song noted on some of the Christmas albums my mother owned. Sometimes though, the song was known as What Child Is This? I never questioned in my youth why the song had two names, but I always liked the title Greensleeves much better. As a kid, it made me think of the green garland that decorates bannisters and doorways at Christmastime.

I didn’t learn the history of that song til I was in college as a Social Science major with a History core.

That’s when I found out that Christians have a nasty habit of taking songs, prose, symbols and traditions from other peoples and cultures and rewriting it as though it was ALWAYS Christian.

That’s why I wrote that cheesy website four years ago. I really need to redo that site - bring it over to this domain or something, and use my own code rather than the stupid Yahoo design template crap.

Anyway. Christmas albums using the title Greensleeves is laughable, because that’s the original tune and title, which is about a spurned lover. But Christians have changed the lyrics to be all about Jesus Christ.

Typical half-assery and ignorance. I parked my car and fumed.

Still, I wondered as I walked through the courtyard to my front door, Why do I miss the family gatherings for Christmas? My sadness returned when I acknowledged that I’ve not been home for Christmas in seven or eight years.
I’ve had no need to go home for Christmas. I was full on Pagan for several years. I HATE the midwestern winters. My mom’s family relations, once the very glue of holiday gatherings, had deteriorated. Why would I go home? I’m not that person anymore. Everything’s changed. It’s simply the tradition of it all - not the meaning of the day. But the tradition was broken when the family disintegrated. And anyway, I know I won’t stop being angry at Christians in general for a very long time, so I naturally boycott Christian family holiday gatherings.

That said, there’s a gathering on Christmas Day at a friend’s house in town. But most of us are either athiest, Pagan or very loosely Christian. It’s all about gluttony and enjoying an extra day off work. There’s no baggage there, like I have associated with my family.

I am aware that every year I do a rant about Christmas. Every year I realise a little more about why I react to Christmas the way I do. It’s good therapy.

Changing subject now to my thrown-out back, I started to feel a little bit better today. I applied heat a few times while at work, which helped.
My ankle however is still sore and not ready to be out of a bandage. I should actually go get a brace for it tomorrow. Wearing a shoe has been uncomfortable, and getting in and out of my car is always painful. If after next weekend it’s not healed up (sprains usually take 2 weeks), I’ll arrange for xrays.

Last thought of the evening - lots of people are out partying tonight. Part of me wants to be among them but of course I am wounded. Even if I were not wounded, I’d likely not go out to a club or anything big tonight. I’ve become quite the homebody and I’m torn over it. But the social anxiety is too much and it’s better for me to avoid situations where I’m making an ass out of myself or saying stuff to weird people out at inopportune times due to my anxiety issues.

Still, my friend arrived in town from Seattle, and tomorrow we have a date with the local Tiki bar. He’s the one who told me and my man about the Tiki bar before renovation began on an old dive. So there will be fun this weekend. Just not tonight. And that’s okay.

Last Saturday I sprained my ankle when I was staggering drunk. A nice purple bruise is now forming under the ankle. I’ve been popping 600mg Ibuprofen and wrapping the ankle in bandages all week.

Yesterday at work, I brushed my hair out of my face by swinging my head to the left girly style, and my neck/shoulder went out. The pain that happens whenever my neck and shoulder go out always feels like a warm or hot trickle of fluid running down my back and/or left arm. My heart sank when I felt that feeling cuz I knew it meant my back would be out for at least a week. Good thing I went to the doctor on the 13th, plead my story, and had a sympathetic doctor who took me on my word to pre-emptively prescribe me some drugs.
I took 1200mg Ibuprofen by late afternoon yesterday while still on the job, and it didn’t even make a dent in the stiffness and pain.

I got home and used a hot pad and took, over the course of the next three hours, THREE Soma pills, until I was sufficiently stoned and could feel my muscles trying to relax.

My boyfriend tried to no avail to give me a massage, but he’s still sick with a sinus infection so even giving a massage wore him out. What a pair we are this week!

The last time my back tried to go out I think was early October, just before I quit the job at the Optometrist’s office. Somehow I managed to pop my shoulder back into place. It’s a mystery as to how I do that when I do - I just got lucky.

My boyfriend told me with some repulsion and amazement after touching my neck that the left side of my neck “feels like a thick cord”. This “cord” stretches down onto my shoulder/scapula area.
The pain radiates to my left elbow, which tingles. Usual behaviour for when my neck/shoulder go out. It’s been happening regularly for about the past three years, but it’s related to the car accident in ‘94.

Today is the last day of work before the Christmas holiday, and they’re already short-staffed, and I REALLY need the money. So I’m going in to work. I’ve placed a call to the doctor - hopefully the doctor can see me tomorrow.

Wow, that last post was angry. I didn’t mean it to be. I just get so frustrated trying to figure my shit out.

I woke up hungover. Go me!

I also woke up thinking about how much it costs to rescue someone stranded in the snow, because there’s been several more reports of people gone missing. This time, people were SAILING and some other people were ICE CLIMBING. But they didn’t bring enough gear or protection. Ultimately, these people were dumbasses by getting lost or stuck, but the media broadcasts the human emotional story. I have followed these stories with morbid interest, at times feeling sad for the people and their families.

However, since I’m more often a cold bitch, I wondered, “how much does it cost to rescue someone who gets lost or stranded, be it in the woods, on a mountain side, or in the snow, all because they didn’t pay attention to the extended weather forecast or bring enough gear or food or whatever?”

So I googled and found this article. “The search for climbers missing on Oregon’s Mount Hood is costing the county government there up to $6,000 per day, but national search-and-rescue leaders say that is just a fraction of the total costs of such a mission.”

“Officials said photos taken by James show the team was not well-equipped for a long stay. Ice axes left in a crude shelter indicate the men had a difficult stay and moved forward without crucial tools.” - sfgate

My next thought was just as cold hearted: “Nice going, dumbasses.”

I thought of the families of the lost and stranded, and of course got mad on their behalf again.

Oh, also, changing subject again…it finally happened. I woke up this morning with my workplace’s muzak in my head. We wear headsets. At the end of each call we have to record the call in the database. Muzak plays on the phone before the next call comes in with a loud beep.
I have tinnitus from this fucking job that gives bad headaches sometimes, on top of the cost to drive to and from work and well the job in general. I’m really PAYING to have a fucking job.

Oh look! Time for work!

So it’s one day shy of Pissup Nite, and I failed to remain sober.

I was so drunk on Saturday that I fell and sprained my ankle outside of my friend’s new home.
It’s a mild sprain but my left ankle is bruised to show proof, and my calf is sore from trying to walk flat footed all week.

Tonight, instead of another round of ibuprofen, I decided to take alcohol for dinner. What motivated me is what always motivates me - the fact that I’m broke. I have $140 til payday. Payday is this Friday, and rent is due the week after. I only get paid every 2 weeks. I don’t get paid again til January 5th and bills are due with rent.
Thankfully, xmess presents are already bought and sent. I wanted to do more for my boyfriend but I just can’t.

I haven’t been able to save ANYTHING aside from 10% of my paycheck. Can’t pay my dad back. Can’t pay my bf back. Can’t save towards Convergence next spring. Can’t save towards wedding which boyfriend now wants to happen in 2 years max when I thought it was three. Can’t save for trip to Michigan in October 2007. No money.

The trip to Tahoe to see my friend off to Canada next month will be an irresponsible expense that I WILL take on, because he’s moving away and he’s who I call my Buddha. He’s also a founding father of the Cabal that I belong to.
No way am I missing his ex pat party.

On another topic now - one I have been avoiding… and probably also why I’m drinking…
I went to the doctor last week. My doctor called a week later- tonight - to say she IS going to refer me to a neurologist for my babble issues.

I’m not used to divulging such things about my mental state.
My menstrual state? Sure. But telling you how mental I am? Not so much. I have this acquaintance on LiveJournal how tells ALL about his mental issues. It’s the very point of his LJ it seems. He’s inspired me. But not on LJ - he’s inspired me to divulge stuff here. But once I do, I seem to regret it for days afterwards.

So it’s been a few days since my last post. And now I’m piss-drunk and can barely type in order to get this post out as a result cuz it’s so difficult.

But, it’s true. I AM mental. I DO have babble issues. I DO believe they are related to my auto accident in 1994. If it turns out to be a psych issue over a neurological damage issue, it won’t change my belief that this was brought on BY the car accident in ‘94 when my HEAD BOWED OUT A FUCKING WINDSHIELD.

That’s all I can muster for now. GOOD NIGHT.