Sometimes you have to Pay Full Price July 28, 2009

Bra Bits

What I wanted to write about was this new bra.  It is manufactured by the same company but they stopped carrying my style and so I had to switch.  It’s not what I want but it is the closest thing I can find and I had to pay full price.  Maybe that is why I am having such a hard day, because I am wearing this bra I had to settle for because I had no other choice.  Anyway, I am just waiting for it to make a mistake.  I can already see all its little defects, getting ready to jump out and make me start ranting.  I can’t put anything together right now.  This is best I can do.

Vomit Bits

I am having one of those vomit filled days.  There is no actual vomiting but I wish there was.  I wish I could get this awful heap of anger and sadness out.  Yesterday I thought about food about 100 times and that is always a good sign, it means I am starting to care about existence (mine specifically as well as the planet in general).  Today I am quite unclear as to how hummus was ever on my mind.  I could give a shit about garlic and lattes, although I still hang on to the possibility of Sugar Plum Faeries with urns of Vodka.  Urns might be a little heavy…maybe they could carry martini glasses.  I am supposed to focus on all the positive changes that have occurred (I certainly have not made any changes, they just keep appearing) since my last…Thing.  It is too hard to come up with anything to focus on, just when I need it most.  We used to do this horrible exercise in my last group where you had to go around the room and everyone had to say something nice about themselves.  What torture.  You could always tell who was having what kind of a day by what they said.  Many times I could not think of anything and had to be coaxed into saying something stupid like I had managed to shower.  It isn’t that it’s not a big accomplishment for me but seriously?  That was it?  At least I never had a panic attack waiting for my turn.  But still. 

Reality Bits (at least I am still funny)

Thinking about how bad things could be does nothing but make me worry that one day they will be that bad.  Until recently, until my Thing that I should name, I’ll call it my Realization.

A Realization that I was a huge lying liar who lies especially to herself about what is wrong nothingswronglifeisjusthardnoreally.

Until my Realization I knew that no matter what happened, living would never be as hard as it was when I had my first Thing (which was not a realization more like the tip of the iceberg of many things to come).  And then I woke up and it was worse.  It had been about ten years although honestly everyday feels like an eternity to me so it felt more like a hundred years.  I felt bad for the person I was and how hard everything seemed to be for me.  Mostly because things were hard and getting out of bed and not doing terrible things to myself or to other people was only a dream.  But ten years passed and somehow I eased (I did not really ease, more like forced) myself into a life where I could exist.  A life where I could go to work everyday.  I don’t want that to be the only thing that matters but it just is.  Without something to do everyday?  I am fucking done for.  I knew it.  I know it.  I am pretty sure there is enough to do where I am going to that as long as I adhere to a schedule I should be okay.  No one will judge my task lists posted on the bathroom mirror there, in fact, I bet my sister offers to laminate them.

 I wish I could find a balance between support and life, between what I want and what I need, between work and love.  One or the other.  One or the other.  One or the other.  I don’t want it to be like this but so far it is the only success that exists for me. 

Moving BIts

I was happy to move here because I thought being close to my mom would make things easier in my head, and that was before my Realization which I think, says a lot about my life at that point.  Once I got here I remembered how I got myself in this whole entire situation in the first place, yeah, I was born.  Guess who was responsible for that?  Not me.  I also conveniently forgot that someone doesn’t believe in mental illness.  How helpful!

Crazy Bits

 The only thing that bothers me about suicide, mine in particular, is the worry that no one will learn any lessons.  No one will wish they would have tried harder to understand or not been so judgmental.  Every situation results in failure.  Anyway, I have gotten nowhere with this long useless thought and although it comes off of the heap in chest that I want  to squeeze the life out of, it is always replaced by more.

Cleanser July 17, 2009

Note: This is actually a post about cleanser, it is not some code word for depression or men or liquor. 

While reading The Advice Smackdown I came across some entries about skincare and some miracle product that is not loaded with skin stripping acid, which I’m not knocking because I use that kind of stuff everyday it’s just that I can’t help but think my skin is planning somekind of mutiny.  I guess it would be like finding out that your mother is poisioning you, well maybe not like that but we’ll use that as an example anyway.  So you find out your mother is poisioning you, what to do next?  Your next move has to very careful.  She is your mother, she may know you are on to her before you even do anything.  Your attack must be sudden! Ah-ha!  And unpredictable!  That is what I think my skin may be up to and in fact I belive there was a pre-emptive strike a few weeks ago when out of nowhere my face started assulting me.  It was terrible and there was nothing I could do because I already use the best balance of pre-treatment, regular treatment, evil abrasives of death and noice lotion-y application.  What else could I do? 

Back to the post about face wash, or whatever real girls call it.  Here it is, filled with things that sound like they would be great in ice cream or tea or some combination of both.

The best-selling cleanser contains infusions of sage, chamomile, and carrot. 

WTF ever, putting food related items on my body usually creates some sort of angry protest, in spite of my birth control pill (skin-clearing miracle pill, my ass).  Tea Tree Oil is often recommended for HSV outbreaks (and everything else).  First of all it does nothing for my outbreak except making my nether-regions smell like Tea Tree Oil.  On top of that it does terrible things to the rest of my body (forget about going anywhere near my face with that shit).  I find I can’t convey things properly without using the word shit.  Sorry. 

I don’t want to close this on a  negitave note so here’s a really accurate tale of using fake eyelashes, compelte with Spider Monkey Reference.  Initially I accidently typed Spider Money and although I think that should be some kind of new Jay Z album I could not find a way to work it into the post, so this’ll have to do.