Sabotage!

Like most Americans I am a part of the "Instant Gratification Society". The difference between the majority of the sufferers and myself is that I don't desire material things. My desires are of a personal nature, ones that you can't purchase or obtain easily. Therein lies my constant internal struggle: Longing for changes which ultimately I have no control over. I also have a tendency for self sabotage when I conclude that my goals cannot realistically be met. Not that I'm incapable of realistic goals, in fact the bulk of my goals are obtainable and I work diligently to accomplish them. 


When something I want becomes unobtainable, my brain processes it through my psychological immune system. My reaction usually depends on how emotionally invested I am with said subject. Regardless of it's it's realistic or not, I can either be reasonable or say, "Screw it. I don't want it anymore."

The latter process is actually known as "adaptive preference formation" and it's what we do as humans to justify failures and reduce cognitive dissonance. Dan Gilbert says that, "Our 'psychological immune system' lets us feel truly happy even when things don’t go as planned," but I completely disagree. Never once after experiencing dissonance reduction have I ever felt content. I'm usually muddled with resentment and it forces me to distance myself from the stimulus.

Affective forecasting is a terrible beast, and many cultures play off of these often hopeful expectations. You see it in Disney movies, leprechauns, and wishes given to burning balls of light. People base many decisions on affective forecasts, predictions about their emotional reactions to future events. They often display an impact bias, overestimating the intensity and duration of their emotional reactions to such events. One cause of the impact bias is focalism, the tendency to underestimate the extent to which other events will influence our thoughts and feelings(Timothy D. Wilson 2005).

This is why you get let down on your Birthday, Anniversary, or Valentines Day. Something didn't meet your expectations.  This is why I get disappointed, and this is why I won't approach things without a hazmat suit afterwards. So to hell with sabotage. You can call it my emotional conditioning.

Why You Should Write | Why I Don't Believe In Therapy.

I've spent countless hours with therapists, psychologists, and psychiatrists, but never once have any of the visits yielded noticeable results. The medication they provided helped, but talking and "working through my problems" just left me embarrassed, angry, or profusely depressed. Even though my mind works rationally and I'm consumed by science I remained confused by the outcome. I never understood how psychology, a science I continue to study, could fail me. What was I doing wrong?

In several studies, participants who have experienced a traumatic event have been encouraged to spend just a few minutes each day writing in a diary-type account of their deepest thoughts and feelings about it. The results revealed a remarkable boost in their psychological and physical well-being, including a reduction in health problems and an increase in self-esteem and happiness.

So why would talking about a traumatic experience have almost no effect but writing about it yield such significant benefits? From a psychological perspective, talking and writing are very different. Talking can often be somewhat unstructured, disorganized, even chaotic. In contrast, writing encourages the creation of a story line and structure that help people make sense of what has happened and work towards a solution. In short, talking can add to a sense of confusion, but writing provides a more systematic, solution-based approach (Jeff Atwood 2011).

Writing is my favorite hobby besides photography. While some of my pieces may disturb some readers it is extraordinarily therapeutic for me. Through prose I can shed some of that pulsating rage that's coursing through my veins. I have this inability to express myself to those I'm close to, but I'm able to cryptically bleed on paper for complete strangers. I enjoy seeing how many people can decipher my messages(very few do), and if I help someone along the way the reward is that much sweeter.

The Letter S.

Saturday brings stalking superannuated consorts,
scheming to subject and extort.
They creep into a dreaming lover's ear,
smiting love as a spiteful new sport.

As quickly as they surface they abort,
leaving her stark and without support.
In the dark she clings to the lasting souvenir;
scathed by the past and a future cut short.

Help.

She was extending a hand that I didn't know how to take, so I broke its fingers with my silence. She said, "You don't want to talk to me, do you?" I took my daybook out of my knapsack and found the next blank page, the second to last. "I don't speak," I wrote. "I'm sorry." She looked at the piece of paper, then at me, then back at the piece of paper. She covered her eyes with her hands and cried, tears seeped between her fingers, she cried and cried and cried. There weren't any napkins nearby, so I ripped the page from the book - "I don't speak. I'm sorry" - and used it to dry her cheeks. My explanation and apology ran down her face like mascara, she took my pen from me and wrote on the next blank page of my daybook, the final one:

"Please marry me"

I flipped back and pointed at: "Ha ha ha!" She flipped forward and pointed at: "Please marry me." I flipped back and pointed at: "Thank you, but I'm about to burst." She flipped forward and pointed at: "Please marry me." I flipped back and pointed at: "I'm not sure, but it's late." She flipped forward and pointed at: "Please marry me", and this time put her finger on "Please", as if to hold down the page and end the conversation, or as if she were trying to push through the word, and into what she was trying to say. I thought about life, about my life, the embarrassments, the little coincidences, the shadows of alarm clocks on bedside tables. I thought about my small victories and everything I'd seen destroyed. I'd swum through mink coats on my parents' bed while they hosted downstairs. I'd lost the only person with whom I could have spent my only life, I'd left behind a thousand tonnes of marble from which I could have released sculptures, I could have released myself from the marble of myself. I'd experienced joy, but not nearly enough, could there be enough? The end of suffering does not justify the suffering, and so there is no end to suffering. What a mess I am, I thought. What a fool, how foolish and narrow, how worthless, how pinched and pathetic, how helpless in the universe. None of my pets knows their own name. What kind of person am I? I flipped back, one page at a time:

Help.

-Jon Foer

Instinct and evolutionary adaptations.

Last night I was thinking about the difference between the things we desire and what we require and I wanted to share this. Mostly to ease a mind or two about situational responses. While this should be common knowledge, I believe most of us tend to forget and get lost in what we desire and that could harm your relationships. Here is your refresher course.

Emotions are adaptations whose purpose is to solve basic ecological problems facing organisms (Darwin 1872). A want or need can be accurately identified by whether or not your emotional response was conscious or unconscious. If I'm not starving I will want something to eat, say a chocolate chip cookie. Wants are always a conscious decision, often fueled by emotions and the desire to feel better in some way. Without my body physically telling me so I decided that a cookie was a good idea, so since it was a conscious decision it becomes a want.

There aren't many things we need, and everything we need is based on survival and is a primal instinct--shelter, clothing, health care, social interaction, and consumption. If you're seriously injured your body goes into an acute stress response(fight or flight) and your emotional response isn't a cognitive one. You fear, you need safety/assistance, and you instinctively need these things.

I'll give another interesting example. If biologically speaking all of your needs must be satisfied first before you can even consider wanting something doesn't that mean reproduction qualifies as a want not a need? We instinctively require pair bonding and social interaction so that certifies it as a need, but mating and reproduction require cognitive thought and the desire often increases and decreases in time.

I just fucked your Saturday up. What are you going to do about it?

Here I am.

Sometimes I am unsure of what is worse—the notion of sadness or the fact that others know you are sad. When I was younger I was instructed to feel less, and that sadness was weakness. I didn’t like being exposed so I learned to restrain myself. I spent most of my life trying to feel less and less regardless of how pleasant or unpleasant. I constructed elaborate walls trying to prove how tough I was, and guarding me from other people. In the end you are the only one who has caught a glimpse behind my barrier without running. I bury these things inside me so you don’t have to hurt, so instead I force myself to live with it.

We all have imperfections but they are always amplified in your loneliest hour. In this hour I’ve realized how deeply my ruse can cut. It makes me believe that I am not a good person and I’m not deserving of good things. The reality is I’ve really never done anything to deserve goodness. I've never been a good daughter, a good friend, a good lover, or a good wife. There just has to be something genetically that I lack.

The shame that comes from the absence of humility can overpower you. Like the moon my egotism waxes and wanes, and once it fades I’m left with this shadow of guilt. Guilty for not being selfless. Guilty for having pride in the first place. Guilty for feeling anything ever.

I will dispose some wisdom on you from a conclusion I've drawn tonight. No matter how bad you think things are there is nothing worse than finding a spider web with your face.

My new resume.

Objective: To get a fucking job. Are you a Pediatric Dentist? I can restrain those bastards. Are you a Periodontist? I can help scrape that shit off. Are you an Oral Surgeon? I will remove their nasty sutures. Are you a Prosthodontist?  I would be more than happy to gag your patients with impressions. Are you an Endodontist? Well you're in luck because I love not sleeping.   

Education and Certifications:

• Ohio Radiology Certification: Have someone that needs cancer? I can provide that shit.
• Arrhythmia recognition: Some fat ass patient going into SVT? I can point it out.
• Ohio CPR Certification: I can also revive your stupid patients.
• Chair side assisting: I know how to work sharp objects.
• The Safe and Effective use of Radiation in Dental Practice: So I don’t give everyone AIDS.       
• Medical Transcription: I can type really fucking fast.

I LOVE PUTTING A LOAN ON MY CAR TO GO TO SCHOOL AND NOT BEING ABLE TO FIND A JOB! I think this one has potential though.

Satiate.

Most of the time my thoughts are aimless, but they often lead back to connecting the dots of my future. Do you fear the unknown as I do? It slithers and coils around your mind leaving you helpless to wandering ideas. Countless scenarios replay over and over until you can no longer tolerate consciousness. Certain unnamed variables make me unsettled and restless. I cannot relax until everything is laid out before me like a medieval feast.

I want to crawl back into your sanctuary. Slip back into blind trust and forget the outside world exists. As comfortable as you may seem, the very thought of you makes me want to mark my territory like a wolf. Never in my life have I feared so much based on so little. As impermeable as I make myself out to be truthfully I am weak and human. I have illogical desires, simple thoughts, and animalistic needs. I wish I was more like you because things would be easier to process.

I want it more than you do. I want many things more than you do, and that’s disheartening and dampers my spirit. These meager portions you provide cannot satisfy my ravenous appetite. All I require is stability, and in times of famine the desire will never vanish. All I can do is hope things move in the direction I want them to. It's too bad hope is often the last card a fool has to play.

______________________________________________________________

April always creeps up on me each year and leaves pieces of me scattered amongst the weeds. It is beautiful yet merciless when it has to be. This April did not differ from the ones of previous years. I cannot piece you back together so I will use words to sew the holes shut.

You are not here and I am left with the horrors that plague my mind when I close my eyes. The regret I feel for not being a better person when you were around. The anger I feel when I realize I’m left with people in my family to whom I cannot relate, and yet the one person who understood me is no longer here. I try to remember the good but as I get older it becomes harder to remember. I’m just stuck with the heroin overdoses and blood. Now your brother is walking your path and we know where this path ends. Drugs and firearms will be the end of what’s left of our family.

It seems each year my network of close friends and family gets smaller. I live with the reality that assholes are immortal and babies die. People are tortured for taking different paths and left without tongues. Their bodies are dragged on foreign ground and all recognizable features dissipate. For this I integrate my walls with steel and barricade the doors from all of you.

Amygdala.

She glances down at my near empty beverage then at me with this expression that would send chills down the common man. Fortunately for her I am not the common man, so her contempt does not influence her tip. She’s young and hasn’t mastered the ability to mask her true emotions. I would say her problem is that she has them in the first place but I would be lying in saying that I feel nothing. I do feel varying degrees of rage and hatred. I wake up with a fire in my heart and I can focus that fire on you at any time. My rage does not discriminate nor does it reason.

I secretly await the chaos that a catastrophe would bring, but not the temporary events--the real deal. The day oil production becomes too costly, or a massive world war over food, water, or basic daily essentials. This is the day I will reveal my true nature without hesitation. I will rise from the anarchy and take rein of the remaining scavengers who have a taste for blood. My unjust horror will quickly sweep over the land.

Sighing she grabs my empty glass and leaves to fill it with my favorite caffeinated drink. The mindless hum of the conversations from the establishment lure me to somewhere else. They take me to a place in the near future: a future filled with promise and adventure. This future does not contain morals or a respect for ones general well being, especially yours.

Your ability to reason will be confounded with my unpredictable behavior. The admirable can suffer the same fate as the fiends next door. The miles of cities burnt and necks gashed open will tell my story. You will know where I have been from the trails of bowel I leave behind. When you meet me that fateful day my eyes will tell you everything you need to know.

I am the monster that everyone talks about at the local watering hole. “Did you hear about the recent killing? His head was severed and mounted on a broken shovel outside of his house. What sort of animal would do such a thing?” Me, you motherfucker! Suddenly she snaps me back to reality and I know she could tell I was daydreaming.

“Are you going to order something or not?” she asks while chewing gum loudly.
“Yes sorry,” I respond, “I’ll have the blackened chicken with a side of mixed vegetables.”

Blameless.

The personal baggage I drag down the road stinks like a corpse rotting at the peak of summer. I cannot avoid it and it is becoming harder to lug around as time passes. When the weight becomes unbearable I can understand why people falter. The burden pulls the flesh off the bone and leaves you breathless. It's not as if you can just toss it aside or pass it off to someone else. You can't forget so you just keep moving.

Regardless of what you think we are the ones who decide our fate. We cast the stone into our lives and it will forever make ripples. You pull the trigger, drive away, but the bloodstains never leave you. You live with the undertow from this event everyday. How amusing it is when you to curse the stars for your misfortune. In the end no one gives a damn. No one is going to pity you for your bad genes or poor environment so it is always in your best interest to shut your mouth.

I may be the only person alive who actually looks forward to old age. I want to get dementia and forget my name. Forget what you've done, and what I have done. To be able to sit down and relax with no thoughts filled with hatred or sadness. No regrets--nothing horrible. The only downfall is that I'll also have nothing beautiful.

It's best to picture your life as an intermediate point between good and bad. That way if you fail you don't stumble too far, and you constantly have somewhere to advance. There will always be someone who is better looking just like there will be someone more foolish.

Nothing.

On occasion I try to purify my mind with masochism. People ask, "Why do you keep putting your hand in the fire?" Because it feels so good when I stop. We all do it from time to time. Bloodlust takes over and we swing wildly in attempt to grasp bits of glass. The more we know the more we crush ourselves. Beat the information into our skulls until we bleed and lay hopeless in the midday sun. Eventually we heal and start the process all over again. Humans are gluttons for pain and self abuse.

The night sky has a way of pacifying even the largest of egos. We are nothing but particles of sand in an infinite desert.  I am neither rare nor memorable. I am not an anomaly. How I so desire to be an exception to the rule! In a sea of beautiful women I want to be the one you see when you close your eyes. I need to resonate in your mind after a hundred years. The sensible, logical part of me realizes the fallacy and my happiness is spent. The truth cuts deep and takes no prisoners.

In My Sky at Twilight/Body of a Woman

In my sky at twilight you are a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet.
My sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.

______________________________________________


Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant’s body digs in you
and makes the son leap from the depths of the earth.

I only was a tunnel.  The birds fled from me,
and night swamped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.

But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
Oh the goblets of the breast!  Oh the eyes of absence!
Oh the roses of the pubis!  Oh your voice, slow and sad!

Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road.
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.

-Pablo Neruda

My friend the double-edged sword.

Extend your hand and let me drop a nugget of wisdom into your cup. If someone offends you there is nothing you can do to change that. You cannot change a person; if you believe you can you are naive and are doing yourself a disservice. After we reach a certain point in our lives we become impermeable to change. We are impossible to move. We are all stone fortresses that you may reach only if we allow you to cross over.

Your complete and utter ignorance disgusts me. Your stupidity makes the bile rise and bubble over. My intelligence is insulted when you open your mouth. For this I will speak slowly and treat you as if you have severe brain damage. No offense, right? Your eyes are glazed over so I’m assuming I’ve made no foul. I will hold your hand and treat you as a pet regardless. You will be one very simple companion to lead along the long path ahead.

The long nights and years spent wasted on someone incapable of change was all consuming. As if it was a personal project and goal of mine to warp an already formed body into what I wanted. Now it is just a notch on my belt of wisdom. Wasted time and energy I could have put into something else. Not you, no. You have found me and I will be your lucky charm. I will tell you how the world works. I will pull the veil away so you can see its true form.

Look deep into my eyes and never forget what I say. Run. Break away and run as if your hair was on fire. The longer you stay the faster the lines will start to blur. You will begin to believe the lies and the problems will seem muted. Wonderfully constructed fabrications they will be. Yes, but I am authentic! My tongue is coated in silver and is sharp as a tack. You have no choice but to believe me.

This monster will make your blood scream. It will keep taking from you, and never give anything back. You will be left with an empty cavern that could once be called a body. The vultures will not circle and no one will recognize you. I will not be there waiting to pick up your carcass.

MAIM Yourself

I want to grasp that impossible dream. I want to hold it and protect it like you would intricate blown glass. To find that person who doesn't make you feel strange. Where you can reach a happy medium, and where you don't have to sugar coat the truth. I'm tired of creating lies and painting over the bad for acceptance. I'm sick of never being the one who you would risk everything for. I don't want to be a stepping stone to something better.

 I have severe writers block so I"ll leave some Rollins to fill the void. Inc. tl;dr >:(

There is no need to speak. We will communicate by touch and instinctual expression. We don't need words. We're well past all that now. It is our destiny to be born beautiful into an ugly age. We breathe life in the face of Death's high command. It is your animal grace that keeps me alive. It is your feral eyes and taut skin that brings my veins to the surface. You are beautiful like demolition. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don't need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours. The nights belong to us. Everything we do is secret. Nothing we do will ever be understood; we will be feared and kept well away from. It will be the stuff of legend, endless discussion and limitless inspiration for the brave of heart. It's you and me in this room, on this floor. Beyond life, beyond morality. We are gleaming animals painted in moonlit sweat glow. Our eyes turn to jewels and everything we do is an example of spontaneous perfection. I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. The time I annihilated while I waited like a man doing a life sentence. Now you're here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natrual disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know.

Black arrows Part Two.

#8: There's something enchanting about her beauty. She keeps a safe distance from the new age monsters of your world. They were created to destroy. They grab and want what they can't have. These monsters break supple necks and devour young hearts. All she wants is to be safe from all the bloodshed. She wasn't made for your world.

#9: You've dug yourself into quite the hole, my dear. Stop wanting and waiting for someone to throw you a rope. Let's get down to the lean meat. Waste down to the bones. Learn to feel hunger and desire. Deny yourself of anything that keeps you breathing. Maybe after there's nothing left you can start again.

#10: Hey honey your breasts look nice in that tight shirt! What do you mean piss off? Your loss, sweetheart. Good luck finding anyone better than me in this shithole.

#11: The pressure in your veins builds steadily up into your brain. 948 millibars of pure fury circling around your frontal lobe. The perfect storm indeed. You're sleeping in bed with your lover's arm around your waste. You think you're screaming in your head but your mouth doesn't open. Without much notice or sound your life ends as quickly as it started.

#12: Trust is a two way street and I live on a cul-de-sac. I want nothing to do with your serpent tongue and body of lies. You keep handing me this basket of shit but I keep throwing it back to you. One day you'll realize that your heart is deflated. Meaningless quests to find something that never existed in the first place. One day soon someone is going to punch you in the face. A thousand pounds of pressure right through your delicate ego.

#13: Sometimes I write within four walls, two walls. No walls. I write in sunlight and darkness. Red ink and black. I would write anything just to make your pain subside. Nothing I have ever said has made a difference in anyone's life. It means nothing if it doesn't mean anything to you. Whoa man, that's deep.

#14: When I close my eyes at night I can still see the inside of his skull.

#15: Alone at last! You would never hurt me, would you? Your surface is so beautiful and pale. It's a bit rocky and big, but I'm sure we can make it work. Why do you only come out at night? I wish I could caress you but you're just out of reach. You're just a little too old for me but age is just a number right? Oh it's getting late. Same time and place tomorrow night?

#16: A million different faces and yet you're all the same person. You're all liars. Having morals these days is like trying to light a cigarette in a hurricane. You lie to get out of trouble and to feel better about yourself. Find a human who says they do not lie and I'll show you a coward. You're lying to yourself.

#17: Some days I want to get away. I want to disappear to where no one knows my name and I am lost. Where it doesn't hurt to take a breath. As I dream about this faraway place I begin to think that maybe you're there waiting for me. The sand is hot on my feet as I walk out to touch the shore. Tiny sweat beads drip into my eyes and I have to squint to get a better look. I can see a smile but you have no face. Your eyes seem kind and forgiving. You have known of my pain and are apathetic to the aftermath. I have no fear now. One day I will get there, and when I do I hope you'll still be waiting.

#18: Please breathe life back into my desolate heart. Pump it full of blood so I can know what it is to be alive. Take this knife and stab it into my stomach. Good or bad I just want to feel again. Something, anything. Please.

Black arrows.

Note: Before you read please note that I often write for both therapy and pleasure. Non fiction or fiction it doesn't matter.


#1: He's standing in the produce section when he comes across a wide array of peaches. He eyes the most juicy fruits and starts to pick out a few. "Ugh," he says, "This one has bruises!," and tosses it back with the others. Even though it tastes the same it gets looked over. Only a damaged fruit can appreciate another damaged fruit.

#2: My life is one of instant gratification. I move fast, talk fast, eat fast, and act fast. If the background isn't a blur I might as well not be moving at all.

#3: Fear can be a fire that consumes all it touches; but panic is like a landmine that keeps going off in your head.

#4: No one looks forward to losing people they love, but sudden death brings a new meaning to the word agony. It gets easier but it never goes away. All the regrets you have and the words you never said all surface. There's no conclusion. You're stuck in emotional limbo for the rest of your life.

#5: I've watched as one event and one man destroyed my family. Even after it passed it wasn't really over. It never will be. We will never see the world the same way again. The swift hand of revenge will not touch him. The rage I have incinerates all the way to the marrow.

#6: Is there someone out there who won't run away if they really got to know you? The funeral dress you never got to wear. The blood stains on the floor. The scar tissue. You can't hide everything forever. They will find out. When they do they will run away screaming as if their hair was on fire.

#7: I have a gift for you and it's handmade with the utmost care. The nails and screws bring a twinkle to my eyes. If you come through that door again I will show it to you. I've been waiting for days. No more running. No more. I will festoon my bed chamber with your entrails.

Autumn.

I love the smell of autumn. I look forward to it every year, and it never disappoints me. It renews my spirit and gives me focus to brace for the cold winter. Let's just hope this winter is mild.

Maybe I really am cold and heartless. After all that's gone on lately I've accepted my destiny with open hands. A while ago I looked at my situation objectively and realized there isn't a point in wallowing in despair because it won't change anything. In the end it doesn't matter how much shit life throws at you because you still have to swallow it eventually.

Like all scar tissue, this has made me stronger. It's like the veil was lifted and I could see how disgusting my life was. I am deeply inspired and motivated.

Recluse.

Some of the best people are known to be recluses. Emily Dickinson. Trent Reznor. The brown recluse(not a person, but still badass).

"The alien man waved his arms up and down and noticed that he couldn't wave in the right language so he stopped." Well I'm tired of waving to you. The truth is most of you are epic pieces of shit. And if you think this is about you then it probably is. I don't want to be your damn friend because you soil the word. I'm burnt out on people and their lies and bullshit.

You know the feeling of falling? The feeling you get when you miss a step and it feels like your heart is in your throat? I feel like that all the time. My entire life is one big panic attack and it never gets any easier. It never goes away.



“Oft expectation fails, and most oft where most it promises; and oft it hits where hope is coldest; and despair most sits.”

Sometimes in April.

I fill the void to occupy my loneliness and boredom. I have very little to say anymore.

Finally.

Tara is crawling so fast now, and I swear she just started about a week ago. And she's not happy unless she's getting into something or flying across the room to pick up a leaf/dust/string. She says, "Baba," and, "Dada," now.

I started applying to photography jobs, and there aren't many positions out there. Fortunately some are what I'm looking for. I've worked in such strange fields that there aren't many decent jobs out there. Sleep Tech? No. SEO website coder? No. I'm just going to stick to what I'm good at. Matt has had better luck finding things, and he is supposed to take his pharmacy certification test sometime this week.

In a perfect world people would start paying me for photoshoots so I can do what I love and not have to worry about money.

Interesting.

Interesting is the word to describe the events of today. Most of it was standard activity, but half way through the day I suddenly couldn't see. First I could focus on one object but when I moved my eyes everything went blurry. It progressed enough to where I had very little peripheral vision, and none in some spots. I then got this terrible headache and my right hand started to tingle. I thought about going to the ER because sudden vision loss is usually super serious, but I was home alone with Tara so I said screw it. Right now my vision is somewhat better. Better being that my direct vision is okay and I can read but my peripheral sucks.

I have perfect vision. There has only been one other time in my life where I had something sudden like this happen to my vision. I went blind in my right eye for about 30 minutes a few years ago. What happened today was almost stroke like, and considering I have/had two blot clots in my right calf I'm worry that something has happened. I started my intense exercise program today so I wonder if all that movement moved a clot?

The hematologist should've just given me fucking blood thinners. I'm extremely pissed off now. If my vision is screwed forever because they didn't want to give me a blood thinner because I'm only 24 I'm going to implode. Of course some of it is my fault because I haven't gotten around to getting my PAI-1, Protein S, and Homocysteine levels checked out again. Tomorrow will be the day! Along with another 45 minute MRI I bet.

Since this entry was all doom and gloom I have a gift: Loaf. In. Hat.

Good news.

I went to the Hematologist today(who is also an Oncologist unfortunately) and I found out that I don't have to take a blood thinner for now. I do, however, have to take Folbic(2.5g of Folic Acid and Vitamin B12 &6) for the rest of my life. I'm okay with that. But if I get one more blood clot..it's blood thinners for life I believe. I've already had two behind my knee and one TIA, so I can understand that. I don't like just waiting for it to happen though. It's just a matter of time before I have another one. I'm just going to get older.

Loaf keeps getting bigger and bigger. Somedays I wish she would just stay small so we can cuddle forever.

I got a callback on a job in Hartford, CT. I really don't want to move there, but they keep calling me. I might as well see how much they pay. $40/hr and I'm there I think.

Getting smaller.

These are the days in which it is hard to remain a nonsmoker. Tara had two shots, developed a fever, did nothing but scream all day, and I had a mental breakdown at the local UDF. Wasps kept coming in the car and I was trapped. I was torn between running for my life and protecting my baby. I FUCKING HATE FLYING INSECTS! Screw PETA. Species which I believe should go extinct: Bees, Wasps, Hornets, Yellowjackets, Any sort of flying insect with a stinger, Geese make me want to bomb Canada, The Surinam toad! YOU EXIST TO HAUNT ME, TOAD!



Life is squeezing the lifeforce out of me and is making want to punch strangers in the face. I want to ruin someones' day before they ruin mine. So easily stability is lost! The undying truth is that I'm a lot of things and none of them are good. I'm lonely. My creative outlet is plugged. I'm weak and out of touch with myself. I want to peel off my skin to regain some sense of normality. Most of what I'm saying feels like bipolar vomit.

Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong, and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't come back. You're left so alone that you can't explain.

Disappointing.

I hate it when you realize the majority of your friendships are unrequited. I bet that some of it was my fault when I worked third shift, and I know it's not helping to have an infant, but some things aren't all my fault. To not be invited to large gatherings makes me feel rejected. Especially when I go out of my way to include everyone.

I'm going to stop trying to be your friend now. The sad thing is that I bet you won't even realize this entry is about you.