I hope everyone had a fun and filling Thanksgiving with people that they love. I did. :)

My friends are in to visit their families and such and Ben and I have had the pleasure of their company since yesterday evening. I had to work this morning so I wasn't able to spend much time with them last night, as I had to go to bed at 9:00pm. But we all went to see the Bond flick Die Another Day today. It was a pretty groovy movie. The plot was fairly predictable and the script was lacking in areas, but the gadgets and special effects made it a fun movie. Yeah...the dialogue was really, really cheesy at times...but hey, it's a Bond flick...what can you expect? It was fun though.

Everyone sort of split up to do different things after the film but they should be rolling back here any time now. Poor Ben has had horrible sinus congestion, so we stopped at Rite Aid to buy some medicine. I forced him to breathe Vick's Vapor Rub melted in boiling, steaming water with a towel over his head. His sinuses cleared right up! Amazing! I was actually right about something! :) (better whip out the record books)

Of course, since we were in Rite Aid we had to pick up a little gift for our boys: a nice bottle of Bacardi rum. I still have half a bottle of vodka left and a bottle of wine that Ken brought to me. So yeah...I think we'll be good to go! :)

Euchre and alcohol with friends. What could be more fun? Well...okay...sex can be more fun...and rollercoasters...and trippy dreams. Oh well, it'll do in a pinch.

"I can feel it's on your mind
Kristina falls down to the floor
She is fine and it's alright
She says to me
I'm drowned and drunk in you
No one had ever looked at me like you
Before you did"

Kristina by Howie Day

I am screwed. Royally screwed.

One of my fellow counselors quit suddenly today. Her caseload was divided among the counselors and, of course, the counselor with the least number of patients was gifted with the majority of her patients. Yup. That would be me. My caseload jumped from 16 to 50 in one bloody, fucking day!

So I'm stressed.

But I will not panic. I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....
I will not panic...I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....
I will not panic...I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....
I will not panic...I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....

On a side note, I packed pee today. Never did I think, as a young girl, that I would one day be packing people's urine specimens for air mailing to a laboratory. :) And I learned that urine comes in all variety of colors. Clear, yellow, orange, and even red! Amazing, isn't it?

"If you're pissing red, you probably need to see your doctor." ~ Patrick, a fellow counselor

Man, I'm tired. (wow! I've never posted that statement before! **oodles of sarcasm***)
I've had a busy weekend. Usually after a weekend such as this, I feel that I've had no time to rest and so I bitch and complain. and whine about being so damn tired. :) But this is different. This evening my soul feels sated and content. :)

I got a restful sleep on friday night, waking up saturday at 7:30am. The funny thing is that I was totally rested...I had actually slept in for 4 fucking hours! (Creepy.)

Anyway, Ben and I drove to Colombus to visit with Shawn, Ken, and Old Lady Berry on saturday. The boys played cards and threw back some shots of jim beam. I napped and ate because I was feeling shitty from this goddamned cold that just won't go away!!!! Actually, we didn't just drive up only to visit with our beloved friends. We went up for the Tori Amos concert baby!!! Woooohooooo!!!

The concert was on Saturday night at the Palace Theatre in downtown Colombus, Ohio. What a beautiful venue it was! The ceilings and walls were painted white and accented with an intricate pink and gold Renaissance style pattern. I couldn't say what color the carpet on the floor was, ( never saw it because of the throngs of people walking on it) but the drapes and curtains about the theatre lobby were all bright red velvet. Crystal chandeliers were in evidence everywhere. Honestly, I don't think there was a light fixture in that place that wasn't crystal. An elegant stairway, complete with shining bronze railings, plunged down into the midst of the lobby. This led up to the balcony seating, but Ben and I walked on past it to the main floor seating entrance. Our seat was 19 row back and to the right of the stage (or stage left). Though decorated in a very decadent manner, the theatre was a very comfortable, intimate setting. A perfect and magical place to enjoy the beautiful music we would hear that evening. :)

Tori's opener was a young male artist called Howie Day. Usually openers are okay or they pretty much suck. (Like P.J. Harvey who opened for U2 or Powerman 3000 who opened for KISS) But this guy blew me away! I was stunned by his ability. By his voice! By the music he was playing! By the lyrics! (or what I could make out at the time anyway) His voice was...haunting...mornful...pained...lustful...empassioned...worshipful...pleading...soulful...everything! Even Ben was as taken as I with this man's ability. Honestly, he was a tough act for Ms. Amos to follow...and that's coming from one of her most devoted satellites. :) He actually got a standing ovation at the end of his set. :)

What made his performance even more exciting (aside from his considerable abilities) was the fact that he was playing accompaniment to himself. How, you ask? Well, he was up on stage with his guitar, his voice, and some pedals hooked up to a sound and recording/playback system. He would mix his songs and do his own accompanying parts (if the song required them) right there on stage before us. For one particular piece he played the rhythm part on his guitar and recorded that. Then he set that to playing in a loop. Next he recorded himself tapping on his guitar to establish the beat. And then he set that to playing in a loop. Next he sang backing vocals and recorded that and then played it in a loop. Then with the guitar tapping, the rhythm guitar, and the backing vocal all playing, he played and sang the lead parts on his guitar. It was absolutely amazing! He was an actual one man band...and a fucking awesome one!

I downloaded most of his songs today. For some, the recorded version is not as powerful or moving as the live performance. If any of you are curious to check him out, try to get some of the live performance stuff. It's groovalicious!!! I really dig the songs Madrigals, She Says, Ghost, and Morning After. So make sure that you check out Howie Day today!!!!

And now for Tori. :) Howie left the stage and there was a short intermission. About 10 minutes later, the lights dimmed and the theatre was filled with Tori's beautiful haunting voice singing:

In our hand an old, old, old thread,
Trail of Blood and Amens,
Greed is the gift for the sons of the sons,
Hear this prayer of the Wampum,
This is the tie that will bind us.

The curtain lifted and the (approximately) 5'5" firey-headed sprite came hopping out on stage waving and smiling to the audience. She was dressed in a long white/silver silk medieval type dress with her long bright red hair spilling beautifully down her back. She hopped over to the piano and sat down (legs spread provocatively, of course) and immediately started playing. (Keep in mind that she was wearing a very long dress, so no leg or skin was to be seen, even though she sat with legs spread very wide.) There wasn't much conversing with the audience, but she did smile, make eye contact, and sort of flirted with the audience as she sang and played :) And god did she sing and play! She sang and she played and she sang and she played and she sang and she played. I think she was on stage for about 2 hours and 30 minutes and played a total of 20 songs. A very good show. :) When the music was angry and dark, the stage was bathed in an angry red or orange light, setting her hair ablaze. She would sit on the edge of her piano stool and bang away at the piano, singing breathily into the microphone. Sometimes she'd get so into the music she'd start hopping up and down on the seat, giving her the appearance of humping the piano stool. (Ben was convinced that she had a dildo strapped to the bench.) During a mellow tune the stage was filled with a purple or blue or soft pink lighting and her soft, haunting voice...at moments little more than a whisper...permeated evreyone and everything within the Palace. The images of a volcano and a nature goddess would appear alternatingly on the backdrop.

Accompanying her piano playing was her bassist, Jon Evans, and her drummer, Matt Chamberlin. In the middle of the show, Tori has something that she used to call "quiet time". This tour I suppose she's calling it the "Roadside Cafe" as a large sign bearing those words was lowered down just to the right of her massive black Bosendorfer piano when her bassist and drummer took their break in the middle of the show. :) And so she played some of her slow, beautiful, whimsical pieces during that segment. Bur fear not! The men later returned to the stage and they proceeded to rock the house down! :) Tori came back for two encores and on the whole it was a very good show. :)

I do feel, however, that I no longer need to see Tori Amos live, unless I get front row tickets. That would be well worth the cost and the show would be such an exciting experience. Maybe I'm just getting old? Not able to groove and boggie like I used to? Probably.

For those who are interested, here's the list of what she played: (not necessarily in this order)

A Sorta Fairytale
Little Earthquakes
Pancake
Space Dog
Black Dove
Spring Haze
Never Seen Blue
China
Twinkle
Taxi Ride
Cornflake Girl
Amber Waves
Honey
Sugar
Precious Things
Wednesday
Take To The Sky
Horses
Your Cloud
Tear In Your Hand

Ben is now convinced that Tori Amos is a manatee killer and, therefore, the most notorious musical artist alive today. His opinion was based on a mistaken lyric. You see, part of the lyric to one of her songs Twinkle goes like this:

And last time I knew, she worked at an abbey in Iona, and,
She said, "I killed a man, T. I've gotta stay hidden in this abbey."

I've showed him this says "man, T." rather than "manatee" but nothing I say will change his mind. :) Next I'm sure he'll have her clubbing baby seals. :)

Anyway, the rest of the weekend after Tori was as follows:

hung out a bit with Shawn and Ken and exchanged insults with said friends
ate at Waffle House (at Ben's urgance)
clocked old lady in the chin at Waffle House as I was putting on my jacket
became embarassed and apologized repeatedly
drove back home
went to an early Thanksgiving dinner at Ben's brother's house
wrestled children and told them I was going to make their heads explode with the Harry Potter wand I found if they didn't behave themselves
came home and downloaded Howie Day stuff
did laundry
blogged this
took a piss
swallowed my anti-baby pill
went to bed

what could be so wonderful about this
what could be so wonderful
the half light wakes you up the morning after
fall down with me and roll around now

~ Howie Day from Morning After

Today was my first real day of being a counselor.

Thirteen people were assigned to my care today, some of them new to the program, and some of them old-timers. Tomorrow I should receive about 15 more.
It's my responsibility to review each chart, make note of what needs to be done, and correct any errors in the chart all within the first week. To give you an idea of how
long it takes to review charts, I got three done today. :( Anyway, after the charts are reviewed, then I need to make a plan for how I'm going to get done all that needs to be done.

It would be great if I were given a bit of time to get organized before the flood gates opened, but oh no...it's just not that easy. I was unable to work the entire time on my charts because I had patients come to see me today. I had a total of four today and I talked to them all for about 20 or 30 minutes each.

But I must note that I really enjoyed meeting with the people and hearing their stories. I made an instant connection with one. He/she told me all about his/her brother's suicide 8 months earlier...and told me that incident was what had prompted him/her to clean up his/her life. I mentioned this to his/her previous counselor and he couldn't believe what he was hearing. I got something out of this person that his/her old counselor couldn't in 6 months of dealing with him/her.

I know that I will love this job if I can just get my charts caught up and organized. Once I get my system down, it'll be awesome. But until then, it's gonna be alot of
stress and hell. :)

My new job is the ocean blue. I am a boat. I just pray that I don't look over the railings one day and discover the word "Titantic" written across the side.

I just wanted to note that vodka chased with pink grapefruit juice is interesting. And vodka clears your sinuses. My nose is actually running. Wow. Who says that alcohol is a bad thing? (wait a minute...didn't I just write a song about alcohol addiction?) Ah fuck it!

Hey-dee-dee-dee-di-di-di-di-di-di. Penis, penis, vagina, vagina. And the magical number is 57!!!!!! MMMwwwwhahahahhaha!!!!

I took my GRE this past Monday. My scores for the Quantitative and Verbal portions fell slightly above the mean scores of other psychologist wanna-bes. I won't get my Analytical Writing section back for another week or so. Basically, the test told me that I'm pretty average...but average is better than below average. :)

As most of you already know, I was having trouble getting my sleep schedule regulated so I bought a "sleeping aid" this past week. The sleeping aid was none other than a bottle of vodka. I took four shots on Tuesday (?) night and slept like a baby. Four shots was maybe overkill because I was compelled to call all of my friends that I hadn't talked to in a while. (I'm sorry for interrupting Buffy, Pat! I know what she means to you.)

Tonight I feel that I may need to call upon the sleeping aid again. My schedule got all screwed up this weekend because I slept in until 9am! lol :) How ridiculous is this situation? I will officially be a substance abuse counselor by this weeks end, and I'm depending on alcohol to help me sleep. And if I purchase a real sleeping aid like Nytol...well is that any better? It's still a drug. Hmmmmm....

I've got a bit of anxiety creeping around in my tummy. Tomorrow I do my first intake or patient admission. I'm really not worried about dealing with the patients or getting the paperwork filled out properly...the thing that's bugging me is that I will be observed tomorrow by another counselor. Of course I understand that they have to make sure I can do this stuff on my own, however it's incredibly unnerving to have someone looking over your shoulder. I fucking HATE it when someone hovers over me when I'm trying to do something! Oh well...I'll deal with it. I always find a way.

Damn. I've been one big jiggling ball of nerves after another. What's wrong with me? What the hell happened to that girl I used to be? The girl that thought she could kick the world's ass? :) Hmmm...I think she got her own ass kicked one too many times. Actually, she got her ass kicked, her heart bruised, her head split open, her soul raked and torn, and she started spitting up blood. Yeah...that's a more accurate description. But I'm still here. And I'm not ready to lay down and die. Not yet.

I spent most of this weekend with my family. Wayne turned 31 this past Thursday, so we all got together to celebrate on Friday and Saturday. Good times. I love my family. They're all so freaking cooky (rhymes with spooky) and goofy and ditzy. :)

My little niece, Megan, is sick again. :( She's been sick off and on since they put her into day care in September. Her little nose was running yesterday and she just wanted to be hugged. She cuddled me and rubbed her snot all over my shirt for about an hour yesterday evening. It was really sweet, yet disgusting. :) Actually, I learned something from the experience. The snot of one's loved ones is not nearly as repulsive as the snot of others. Especially when the snot belongs to a little girl whose laughter and smile have made me understand a bit more of life's meaning.

The poor thing developed a really nasty barking cough today. Every time she coughed she would whimper and cry and little tears would well up in her eyes. She kept looking at me and Cheryl and Wayne with those tearful, questioning, blue eyes...and oh god it broke my heart!! She doesn't understand what's wrong...why her throat hurts or why it hurts when she coughs. She looked to us to make it better, but all we could do is cuddle her or try to take her mind off of it.

We finally got her to swallow some Children's Motrin at a little after noon and she seemed to feel a bit better. She and I sat on the couch and played with the Mr. Potato Head that I bought for her. She put an arm where the nose should be, the tongue where an ear should be...his eyes, one ear, and his teeth were in the proper places. :) She's also fascinated by putting things in and out of containers. She kept putting Mr. Potato Head's parts in his butt...and dumping them out again. Then she put all of his parts and him in a box. She also has one of those Bumble Ball things that vibrate and jump around. She got the clever idea of putting it in a box and turning it on, causing the box to jump around the room. I've discovered that a child can be loads of entertainment when you love that child.

The more time I spend with Megan, the more I know that I want to be a mother. But not just yet. I've got to get my life and heart to a certain point before I can begin trying to guide a little life through this world. I'm getting impatient with me though. I want to be at peace...I want to be happy...I want to be settled...I want to believe...I want to be sure. Sure of what I'm doing, where I'm going, and of who I am. Sure enough to make a life-long commitment. And this, I suppose, will come with time. Time I may or may not have.

If I don't get it right in this life, maybe I will next time around.

This evening, as I was walking back to the apartment after taking out the trash, I noticed the yellow quarter moon hovering up and to the left in the sky. I felt like it was sort of peering at me through the tops of the trees there on the hillside. I continued on back to the apartment and then looked up again and there it was again, by my side.

It reminded me of a storybook I had read as a child called "Harold and the Purple Crayon". In this children's story, a little boy named Harold finds a purple crayon. With this crayon he draws a moon and a path to walk on. He draws a forest, a city, and other sorts of exciting places until he becomes tired and wants to go back home. Eventually he draws his bedroom window around the moon, draws himself a bed, draws up the blankets, and goes to sleep.

What struck me about the story when I was a child was that through all of his travels, no matter where he goes or what he does, the moon always stays by his side. Like a protector...a companion...an old friend. When I was small I actually thought of the moon as god's eye. :)

Tonight as I recalled the story, I felt comforted. No matter where life takes us or where we take ourselves, some things will always remain constant and stable in our lives. And hopefully not only the moon in the sky.

Hard Days and Nights
I survived my first few days at the new job. Somehow I survived waking at 4AM to get my ass to work by 6AM. And I assure you, survived is the appropriate term.

Tuesday night: Since I was all nerves about starting a new job on Wednesday, I got very little sleep. Only an hour, actually.

Wednesday: As I’m sure you can imagine, I was exhausted come Wednesday morning. But I still had to go through an entire day of meeting people and learning new information. I came home that evening and crashed for an hour and then got up to spend a little time with Ben. That night I was sure that I was going to sleep well due to my exhaustion. WRONG! I experienced that ‘I’m so fucking tired, but I can’t sleep” buzz and I got only one hour of sleep.

Thursday: Thursday morning I was ready to cry. I was faced with another bloody day of no bloody, fucking sleep! Well, I went to work and tried to stuff more knowledge into my tiny, fatigued brain and then I came home and slept for an hour. I got up and hung out with Benjamin and I was luckily able to sleep 6 hours that night.

Friday: Friday morning comes and I find that I’m still exhausted, having had only 10 hours of sleep over the past three days. I go through the day and go to bed at 9PM that night.

Saturday: I woke up this morning at 10:30AM. 13 and a half hours of sleep, baby!!!!

The Perfect Drug
Well, let me tell you all about my new job.

The Clinic: I now work at an opiate addiction treatment clinic, more commonly known as a methadone clinic. Opiates include the following drugs: Opium, Codeine, Morphine, Heroin, Dilaudid, Percodan, Numorphan, Vicodin, Demerol, Fentanyl, Methadone, Darvon, and Talwin. These drugs effect the “pleasure center” of the brain giving the user a euphoric feeling or rush.

Those addicted to opiates will suffer from withdrawal if they don’t receive another fix before the drug is totally out of their system. Approximately 24-36 hours since the last fix, the addict experiences insomnia, vomiting, diarrhea, weakness, depression and hot/cold flashes. After 2 days they have muscular and abdominal cramps, elevated temperature and severe tremors and twitching. Most addicts don’t let it get this far. They take get another fix before they can become sick. Most people who try to quit won’t make it beyond 2 days, because they’re so ill. Some people become so dependent on the drug that they will experience extreme withdrawal symptoms (vomiting and diarrhea) that result in death.

Basically, it’s a really hard habit to kick on your own. So they come to the clinic where they receive methadone. Methadone, which is also an opiate, stimulates the same receptors in the brain as the other opiates. At the proper dosage, it eliminates cravings and relieves/prevents withdrawal symptoms in the addict, without giving the person a rush or high. (The proper dosage is dependent on height, weight, and how much of the opiates the addict was taking.) It essentially becomes a maintenance medication, allowing the person to live a normal life.

Once the stable dose is reached, the counselors try to assist the patients with further normalizing their lives. Most people come to the clinic with shattered worlds. Because of their drug use their family and friends have disowned them, they have no job, they may have criminal records, and they are usually in insane amounts of debt. So the counselor (that’s me) gets to help them make a plan to put it all back together. And they come in and see me as time passes and tell me of their progress and such. As goals are accomplished we revise the plan. After a time, most patients will want to come off of the methadone. They don’t want to be dependent upon anything, especially another drug. So the counselor helps them slowly lower their dosage until they’re totally off of the drug. Some people choose to stay on the methadone, treating it like any other prescribed medication.

Of course, there are some that come to the clinic and try to get their doses and sell them. Methadone goes for $1 a mg on the street. So if you’re being dosed at 150 mg a day and you pay $87.50 for a weeks worth of doses and then take them home and sell them…well that’s $962.50 profit for the week! Not bad.

Of course, no patient is allowed to take home their doses until they have displayed good attendance, good behavior, been cooperative, had “clean” drug screens, and they’ve been in treatment for a while.

I know that I’ll deal with a lot of bullshit, but I also know that I’ll be helping those serious patients rebuild their lives. And that will be worth any shit that I have to put up with. I think I’m really gonna love this job. :)

The Temperature: The building is fucking freezing cold! Everyone, including the men, keep their jackets on during the day. Most people have brought little electric heaters to keep in their offices. The reason for the insanely cold temperatures is that methadone must be stored between 65 and 70 degrees F. So they freeze us to keep the drug happy.

My Co-workers: Everyone seems nice. Seems. I’m sure that I’ll uncover the bitches and assholes after I’m there a while. I work with Matt McClure’s wife, Cyndi. She’s a pretty brash and loud person. Not one I could claim as a bosom buddy, but she’ll be a great resource for me when I’m through with training.

The Patients: These people come from all walks of life. Some are very poor and some are fairly wealthy. I've seen the stereotypical skinny, unwashed hair, dirty jeans and flannel shirt junkie types. I've seen doctor/lawyer looking men and women in business suits. I've seen your cute little cheerleader looking girls, with perfect hair, bodies, and smiles and sexy buff football player or model looking guys. I've seen mothers with their children. Husbands and wives. Boyfriends and girlfriends. And they all line up, every morning, waiting for those doors to open at 5AM, so that they can all get through their days. They usually start coming 30 to 45 minutes before the doors open, I'm told. So these people are getting out of bed at 3AM so that they can get a good place in line. Insane. Crazy and sad that they have let something so control their lives that they now have to plan their day around it.

Training: My trainer is nice, so that’s a plus. He’s a 35 year-old male who looks like he’s in his late 40s. He’s already had open heart surgery (due to his bitch wife, according to Cyndi) and he was in the military once upon a time. It took him 20 years to get his Psychology B.A. He takes his job very seriously and he’s firm but kind with his patients. He knows the job well and he’s a decent trainer, but he has certain flaws. Some things he has trouble explaining…he expects me to know what he’s talking about a little too often. And he’s stressed out because he’s expected to train and keep up with all of his patients and paperwork.

For the most part, I’ve been reading policy out of the Operations Manual. This sucks ass. I’m a hands-on or observation learner. Things I’ve read rarely stick in my brain too well unless I’m totally psyched about the subject matter. It's even more difficult for what I've read to stick in my brain when I have a serious deficit of sleep.

Friday, I pulled him aside and said, “Look, you’re getting behind on your paperwork. Let’s do some of that while you supervise me. I’m a hands-on learner anyway.” He was pretty happy with that and so was I. I learned more on Friday than any other day.

I just decided that it was MY training and I was going to take more control over how I was being trained. My job depends upon it, after all. After the training there’s an assessment. If I’m lacking in any areas, those areas will be reviewed and I will be re-tested. If I don’t do well on that test, I’m referred to the Program Director so she can decide whether I stay or go. I’m sure that I’m worried over nothing. I’ll do well. Maybe. :)

And the wind cries, “Study”!
And so here I am, feeling dazed and all out of whack. I managed to get some laundry done this morning, shower, and deposit some stuff at the bank. And now I’m faced with studying for my GRE. This will be my last effort, as I take the test Monday morning at 8AM. Where I will attend grad school is very dependent on this test…but my brain is so numb I really don’t care at the moment.

The more I think about it, the more I feel that I’m not ready to go back to school this January. I was thinking of the possibility that I may be rejected by MU and UK and I was trying to gauge my reaction. I found that I was relieved by the thought of Marshall rejecting me…and a bit stressed by the thought of UK rejecting me. But if Marshall doesn’t accept me, god knows UK isn’t going to. Or maybe I don’t give myself enough credit. Or maybe I won’t think about this right now and avoid stressing myself out.

Sorry this is so long. I’ve just had a lot going on and I haven’t written for a few days.

Well, as Wank says, “I’m all blogged out.”

The throat is a bit better. I was able to squeak out a song or two today, which was nice.

I feel so odd right now. And it's not the sickness. I feel...nervous...stressed...afraid, I guess. Tomorrow I start the new job. Actually, I should be in bed right now because I have to get up at freaking 3AM cause I have to be at work at 4:45AM. The good thing is that I get off at 1:30PM so I'll have the whole evening to chill at home. :)

Yeah...I'm nervous, I guess. But I'll be fine. It's just another one of those changes in life. And change can be scary.

I've got all sorts of stuff going on in my head and heart right now. I feel all twisted up or bent or scattered. Sometimes I feel like I'm just totally losing it. Lately, when I'm alone, my affect has been all screwed up. I laugh for no reason...or feel compelled to cry. I keep this under control when others are around cause I don't want them to think I'm crazy or anything. :) But like Dr. Pamela Mulder once said during a lecture in my Personality Theory class, "We're all a little fucked up. Crazy is just a matter of degree."

I suppose I'll figure things out. I just feel really lonely lately too. I don't have anyone other than Ben to talk to really. Not that I mind talking to Ben, it' s just nice to have a different perspective sometimes. A different and thoughtful perspective. I used to share stuff with my sis, but god love her, you know she's gonna tell me what I want to hear because she loves me and wants me to be happy! I talk to Shawn...he's really good at being impartial but sometimes but I think he gets overwhelmed with TMI. Poor guy.

What I need to do is make me a friend all my very own. I have friends, but they're all my and Ben's mutual friends. When I feel the need to bitch about him pissing me off and I go to them, I know it makes them and him uncomfortable. I need to find someone with whom I can discuss my feelings that will remain impartial and provide me with mature, insightful feedback.

So basically I need a therapist. :) I'm starting a position as a counselor tomorrow and I need fucking counseling. How hilarious is that? :)

Until next time...

"and both hands
now use both hands
oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing
graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of
how hard we tried"

~ Ani Difranco from the song Both Hands

My throat hurts. :(

After weeks of my niece being sick and infecting everyone else in my family but me, I've finally succumbed. After all, no one can resist the power of The Baby.

This has been...well..an interesting weekend. Saturday, for me, was one of those "I feel so depressed and dreadful that I could commit suicide, if I
didn't suspect that I might have a bright and happy future ahead of me" days. It seemed that NOTHING was going right that day.

Ben and I got into a sort of disagreement type thing. Nothing big, but still unpleasant. Rather than going shopping together as we had planned, I ended up going to the mall alone. I was the ONLY person at the mall (that I saw anyway) that was alone. Except for the cleaning crew...but that doesn't help because they work there.

So there I was, feeling very lonley, and I couldn't find what I was looking for...so that bummed me out too. On the drive home, I started feeling ill and this compounded the bummed feeling. I ended up getting back to the apartment and crawling in bed with my shoes and clothes still on. Ben tried to comfort me but I was beyond comforting. I was in the "leave me the hell alone" phase of depression and illness. So I laid in there for a couple hours. I wasn't really tired, but I dozed off a couple of times..and drooled on the pillow.

Pathetic.

Sunday and today were not so bad. I'm feeling a bit better this evening, which is good since I start my new job on Wednesday. I really don't want to try to learn new stuff with a runny nose, cough, sore throat, and that fuzzy-removed from reality feeling that comes along with a cold.

I guess what has agitated me the most about this being sick thing is that I haven't been able to sing. I enjoy singing as much if not more than I enjoy sex. It's very much a part of me. When I'm feeling bad, I can just let go and lose myself in singing along with something and I feel better. I sing to cheer myself up, I sing to entertain myself, I'll sing to entertain others. And I sing to write lyrics. I can't put something down on paper unless I work the melody out in my head at the same time. That's just how I do it. But if I can't use my voice properly, then I can't really figure out how something is going to sound. It's just really frustrating.

I'm broken!!!!

Oh well, I guess all I can do is wait for this bug to run it's course. Or maybe the Over the Counter Drug gods will shower me with their blessings and heal me of my infirmity.

I was rummaging through a box of notebooks and papers the other day and I came across a ton of old poetry, song lyrics, and, of course, a shit load of old muse vomit.

I'm going to post a little of the muse vomit that was trying to be poetry or lyrics but didn't quite succeed. I still like it, though. You all must understand that what I call muse vomit is possibility. It is something that could have been and still could be. And sometimes it still manages to find a way to become what it was intended to be. :)
Perhaps the idea that was trying to be expressed will inspire me again...or a word or a phrase...and then I'll actually create something from that. It's a thrilling process. It sort of makes me feel that nothing is wasted...nothing is truly a failure. If something doesn't go quite right the first time around then maybe it's just because it wasn't time for it to be.

I think that too many writers probably throw away their past attempts and failures...their muse vomit. Not me. I like to keep mine around. You never know when it's going to come in handy.

Anyway, six batches of vomit coming at ya! Blaaarhhhhg! (I especially like the last one.)

untitled and written April 1, 1998 1:15 AM

I can't understand everything that I have done
I can't understand anything that you have said
I speak your language
But you don't speak mine
And my world fades to red

I don't really know what I'm doing here
I don't really know why you stay
I can't fathom what there is to claim here
But you can have it your own way

I don't believe in this confusion
I can't believe love is this sweet
I never knew how cold the cold was
Until the night I felt your heat

I have never felt such exquisite torture
I have never loved one completely through
I had never willingly drank of poison
Until I had tasted you

I don't think I've loved one so honest
I don't think I've ever been so unsure
I don't know that I can take you
It may be too much to endure

I can't understand everything that I have done
I can't understand anything that you have said
I speak your languge
But you don't speak mine
And my world fades to red


Poison written in Jan or Feb of 1998

Lying eyes
Biting tongue
Hide behind a mask of control

Again I lie
Load the gun
Smilng sweetly as I bleed your soul

untitled and written June 15, 1998

sometimes, baby
you're all too human
the alter I built for you
collecting dust in the corner

sometimes, baby
you're way too noble
virtue oozing from your pores
acrid like sweat

and sometimes, baby
you're just perfect
your eyes honest and touching me
through the darkness

untitled and written sometime in 1999? maybe?

you like to bring blood
you like the thick warmth
so just twist your knife
and bleed me some more

Inside You written sometime in 1998

sometimes
you look at me
disgust evident upon your face
and I feel cold sick
inside me

one time
you said "forgive"
in a moment of truth, hope, and love
but suspicion breathes
inside you

Sleep written March 5, 1999

Twisting, it grows
Green around me
Tangled it shows
I'm going nowhere
Staining my skin
Slowly caressing
Tieing me down
It holds me again

Sleep, sleep
In the grass that surrounds you
Feel it, cool against your skin
Sleep, sleep
Now peace has found you
You won't ever be lonely again

The rain, it falls
Bathing me naked
There aren't any walls
Keeping me here
Sometime I pretend
That I'm resurrected
But then the earth calls
And I'm sleeping again