& One more for the road...(but to fully get it, gotta listen to it)

Grace Jones~~~~~~"I'm not perfect (but I'm perfect for you)"

I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm
Had we met at a different time we'd be perfect for each other,
Now we're spending all our time, in this world come together,
My heart is aching, from all the love you're giving,
We're not faking, is this the life we're living?

I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,

More and more we are together, tryin to discover,
I see a flicker in your eye, are you lookin for somethin better?
You once told me lying on the ground, but keep goin up and down, yo!

I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,

I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,

I feel right on time,

Why waste it thinkin about it? taste it,
Don't waste it thinkin about it, taste it,

It really doesn't matter wherever i may go,
We're tied together, that's one thing we both know, yo!

I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,

I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,

Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, now i'm right on time,

Other Songs I just love

Nina Simone's "Here Comes the Sun", she also does a great cover of "ooh child", her "Mississippi Goddam" is outstanding, and I like quite a few of her other stuff.

Lionel Ritchie has done so many songs that just hit the spot.  But, I heard "Hello" today and I realized that I know all the lyrics of that one, even though I've not heard it in years.

Terence Trent d'Arby's "Who's Loving You" is incomparable.  Here it is:

When I had you
I treated you bad and wrong my dear
Girl since since you been gone
Don't you know I sit around
With my head hanging down
And I wonder who's lovin' you

I, I, I, I should have never made you cry
And girl since since you've been gone
I sit around with my head hanging down
And I wonder who's lovin' you

Life without love is oh so lonely
I don't think I'm gonna make it
All my life, all my life belongs to you only
Come on and take it girl
Come on and take it because

All, all I can do
Since you been gone is cry
And don't you ever wonder
And worry your pretty little head
'Bout what I do
Don't you know I sit around
With my head hanging down
And I wonder who's lovin' you

Back to School

but not for me, just yet.

My guy is starting his second year in the PhD program.  Yea!!   He is soooooooooo busy, and yet maintains 4.0 gpa.  Amazing.

My mom, she is amazing, too.  Back in December 95, the sewing factory that she worked for, closed.  Actually, it was padlocked.  They lost all their contracts to Mexico and other countries.

This was due to the trade agreement.  NAFTA also had provisions that if you lost your job because of the agreement, ie contracts were taken overseas or to Mexico, then you might be able to qualify for 18 months of retraining.  Mom checked into it, urged others too.

Mom did qualify, so she returned to school and earned her Associate's when she was 50.  She then picked up and packed up and cleared out and headed South from PA.  She lived in the Smoky Mnts for years and then moved to Arkansas.  She now lives in the Ouchitah Mnts (which are the only ones to run east west).

Now, she is re-entering school.  Starting with the local community college this term, she hopes to transfer (she's already checked into which credits and classes will transfer) to the university at Fort Smith so she can get her Bachelor's.  The timing ought to coincide nicely with her 60th birthday.

My mom, the scholar.

I am proud of her.  I also am proud of my guy.  And I am sorta living vicariously through them when it comes to academics.  Cuz I'm proud of where I am RIGHT now, and I feel that I need to only focus on NAMI for the time being.

Currently reading...

I'm reading Patricia Cornwell's "Portrait of a Killer:  Jack the Ripper (Case Closed)".   Interesting read.  She applies today's techniques and knowledge to a very old case, such as gathering DNA off stamps that were licked and afixed to envelopes and comparing letters, drawings, and incidences.

Repost from original Debra's Daily Dose (Wed 8 Sep 04)

Do you think I'm mental (paraphrasing KDLang)
ok, it's like this...i have no intention of writing my complete memoirs in one sitting.  but there are some things past that help us to understand the present and prepare us for the future.  so, i cannot tell you when exactly my madness began, but i sure fooled alot of people for a long time.  I was always a tad different and special, gifted, in some way or another, in almost all contexts in my childhood.  As a teen, I did not go through the typical angst period, but i did not really fit in anywhere.  Most of the kids my age thought I was strange.  Most adults thought i was mature.  Then in my twenties and on, as an adult, i was just a tad eccentric.  Sometimes, i would be too far out there, inappropriate in behavior.  But since i moved so often, very few folks got to know me well enough to know that may be there was more going on then what meets the eye.  

Leaving aside most of the details, in sum, early last year, i accepted the diagnoses that classified me as having mental illnesses.  THAT was quite slippery, i had the hardest time wrapping my mind around being MI.  I mean, at the time, I was a graduate student, working on my PhD, with a master's in sociology, and three bachelor's.  I was teaching undergraduate students, doing research, working in a computer lab for the department, and maintaining a very full social life as well.  Being mentally ill was not part of the plan for the big picture.

Now, I had already dealt with having learning disability.  I have dealt with poor health most of my  life.  I had dealt with abuse, surviving, coping, and (I thought) moving on.  What I did not recognize was that much of this was not dealt with at all, rather it was squashed down until I simply lost my resiliency, losing my ability to continue to cope, losing my mind it seemed.

Currently, I am affected by bipolar disorder (rapid cycling), borderline personality disorder (THAT is misunderstood even by psych-peeps), PTSD, panic/anxiety disorder, depression, and compulsive overeating disorder.  No two people handle their diagnoses in the same way, because no two people are affected in exactly the same way.  So, for instance, I do not self-mutilate.  I amnot an impulsive spender/shopper/etc.  I hate the mania more so than the depression.  I do not "look" like I have an eating disorder.  I despise whining, abhorring it in myself.

SO, I am learning to go a bit lighter on myself.  I am learning that it is not ok to push myself beyond my limits.  I am learning just where those limits are and how to pull back when I need to.  I am learning that I might not have developed a great sense of self, so now I am doing just that.

I tire easily.  I am not always chipper.  I am not always quick with wit.  Sometimes, I am irritable beyond belief.  Sometimes I cannot comprehend a sentence, let alone a paragraph, let alone an article.  Sometimes, I feel so utterly defeated that I am sure isolation has merits.  Sometimes, I cannot explain myself very clearly.  Sometimes, knowing me, can be pure unadulterated hell.  I try to know myself enough to be able to recognize the warnings, the shifts, the need to be still and quiet, the need to rest, the need to withdrawl from social circumstances.  sometimes I am sure that my toxicity spills over, tainting relationships.  sometimes, though, i go too far with my self-monitoring.

and most of the time, people enjoy being around me.  they are glad to know me.  and that's when i know that i am worth all the fuss.  i deserve to be healthy, happy, to know love. 

i hope this has been clear, as i am entering a manic period, not having slept for quite some time. racing thoughts, speed....so, i am off to see if i can't rest before i get much worse.  thanks for listening, it ain't easy, to read some of this, i am sure.  but i am not always maudlin, so serious, so intense.

have a good day.  til next post.

Was lost, but now am found...

I don't know that I will be able to spit it all out, or spin it so eloquently that it makes a cohesive tale to tell.  But here are some of the places I've been roaming.  Or haunting, or stomping.

Yesterday's NAMI support group facilitation training was a smashing success.  Thank you to all you how sent me notes of support and encouragement.  Now the others who are going to be co-facilitating know what to expect and what to do, and I think they are not quite so intimidated as they might have been, when it was a big unknown.

Next step is to establish days and times for the group to meet.  I have already arranged for the place, and for free childcare for the participants that need it, and transportation assistance too.  Then it's a matter of getting the word out, doing a press-release, calling Mental Health Care Providers who might want to refer their clients for support group (not as a substitute for counseling, but as a supplement).

So, once this last bit is done, and the group is up and running.  I'm pulling back a bit, cuz mania is escalating and I am worn out.  Gonna attend and be a member, but let the cofacilitators go for it.  They'll do fine.

My guy has been in a whirl of activity, getting ready for the second year of his PhD program.  He is taking on new responsibilities and projects.  As well as maintaining his work schedule and attendance of conferences and seminars.

So, last week, I was with him.  I couldn't sleep one night, so I downloaded some stuff and tweaked his computer.  It runs much faster and cleaner now.  Once again, my thanks to Victor and Andi.  Love ya guyses.

I missed three days of meds and have been reminded once again, that is  SO not the good thing to do.  I was driving on Sunday, so delibrately did not take them because some make me less alert than I need to be to drive.  Then Monday, I was so keyed for the day with NAMI training that I forgot to take the meds with me for the day.  D'oh.  And today, I didn't take the day stuff, cuz I need to eat with the meds.  But I will take the night stuff.  ahhh, sleep.  mmmm.

I need to improve my diet, my eating habits, my schedule of when and what I eat because of health reasons, but also because of med issues.  My head feels froggee and my body is not liking me too much at the moment.  I get physical withdraw symptoms almost immediately within missing a dose of certain meds.  And my body and mind is used to the mixture and when I mess with that, it is bad bad bad.

So, now, I need to rest and recuperate til I get my wits about me and find myself again.  See you soonest.   Love me

I got butterflies in the belly (&/or the belfry)

Tomorrow is the NAMI sponsored one-day support group facilitation training seminar/workshop.  I've waited for about 6 months for this.  Now that it's here, I'm skairt.

(gargle, ahem, aam) me me me me meeeeeeeeeeee

This meme was passed on to me by Paul Little up there in Canada.  It is about books and that is one of my favorite topics.  If I could eat them, I would.  But that just goes to show how I relate everything to food.  And that is neither here nor there...

So, how many do I own?  Well the short answer would be:  LOTS.  I've left more books behind in all my 50+ moves than I've retained, but I still own lots.  Most of my books are academic.  Lots of theory authors like, Marx, Durkheim, Weber, DuBois, Giddons, Freud, and the like.  Then I also have a small grouping of Stephen King.  I own some others that I love to reread like, "Bastard out of Carolina" by Dorothy Allison and "Joy Luck Club" by Amy Tan.  Then too, I am a huge fan of libraries.  I cannot afford to buy books I want, and I also would like to try books that I don't want to spend huge sums of money for...and the library lets me sample authors and genres I might not otherwise try.

The book I am currently reading is "Scandal in Fair Haven" by Carolyn G. Hart.  I have been reading quite a few of her books lately.  She writes in several genres.  But I like these the best I think, the ones that are mystery/suspense/who-dunnit types.

Five books that mean alot to me:  Everybody Poops (shocking, I know, but everyone really does poop); Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster (wonderfully witty); Fried Green Tomatoes (at the Whistle Stop Cafe) by Fannie Flagg; my Life Applications New International Bible (lots of footnoted explanations of cultural and historical references); and the COURAGE TO HEAL by Bass and Davis (cuz I really do have the courage to heal, it's an ongoing process).

who to tag?  who to tag?  I don't know, lemme ponder on it....

Tracy Chapman

Back in the 80s, I listened and sang along with Tracy Chapman as she wistfully spoke of a fast car that would led to a better life, and a mountain o' things, and all those songs from that album.  I knew them all and could belt them out in my little ford escort when I was zooming from class to work to home and back.

She continues to release amazingly great music.  She touches my heart and soul.  She has also been involved in so many worthy causes. Tracy's new album is soon to be released, within the month. Maybe I'll get it for my birthday in November.

Cars, love em when they run...

hate em when they don't.

Last week, I bumped into a friend of mine at the library.  We got to chatting.  Then we went for coffee (well, I drank tea and she had a peach shake, but it was at a coffee shake, did you really need to know that, no, but now ya do).  We ended up parting very late.

I hopped on the interstate and cruised on north a bit, and noticed my "check gauges" light lit up.  So, I checked the gauges (cuz I'm good that way).  And I noticed that I was running a little warm (ok, I was hot, but the engine was running a little warm, wink).

Then, just as I merged onto an east bound extension of another interstate highway, I saw the "check engine" light come on.  I thought, hm, well, ok...but here?  I don't THINK so.

Turns out I didn't have a choice.

Cuz right after that, as I was nearing the exit ramp from that interstate to the road that goes home, my car did a shake, shimmy, hump, shudder, and bump.  All power was lost so I coasted as far off the road onto the shoulder as I could. and popped the hood.  No smoke so THAT was a good sign.

There were lots of lights overhead, because this was a new interstate extension.  So, as I rooted around in the trunk for my big ol' flashlight (it's a mega mag-lite, ya gotta love that), the FIRST patrolman pulls over.  He was friendly.  Not helpful.  But friendly.  That's a plus, in my book.

Then I remember while I am chatting with the officer that OH, yeah, my flashlight was in the front of the car so that if ever I felt I needed to have a heavy wand to crack someone's nuts, well, it'd be right handy.  So, I go searching for it.  So thankful I was wearing jeans and not a flirty skimpy lil ol' swishy skirt.

Flashlight in hand, I headed for the popped hood.  When another police officer pulls up.  He is not happy.  He was helpful.  But not happy.  Very suspicious.  Yes, I staged this so that I could meet my connection and get my fix, wow, you are too smart for me.  But he did call AAA on his cell phone for me.  Though he was NOT happy about it.  Still he was helpful.

So then as I find the problem and am laughing like a loon, a road-side stranded loon at that, a THIRD officer pulls up.  Of course, I am appearing as though I might be on drugs, and thusly a menace to society, so he approaches with caution and is not happy either.  But neither was he helpful, because there was nothing for him to do really.  AAA was on their way.

He did however insist that I explain the whole thing.  I mean it wasn't enough that I am standing there holding an incredibly long belt which did not break, but slipped in one intact loop right off ALL my pulleys.  Cuz that belt drives the entire engine.  It's not obvious to him that I am having engine problems of major proportions.

Or maybe he was wondering why I was reacting as I was.  I already assured him that Officer A and B had been by.  That AAA was on their way.  That I felt reasonably safe until the tow guy got there and that I would be fine riding home with the tow guy (after all, I had my handy dandy nut cracking mega mag-light).

After he left, I put the belt in the back of my car, on the floor behind my driver's seat.  I slammed the trunk.  I slammed the hood.  I got all nice and comfy in the driver's seat and pulled out my book because the light was THAT good.

The 4th officer comes to see me, by now, I am tired.  More than a little loopy.  I haven't taken any of my meds.  Cuz I am not supposed to drive on them, and although I wouldn't be driving, I wanted to be as alert as possible.  But I had a sack of the Rx from the store in the back seat.  The officer shines his light around the interior of the car.  My eyes are bloodshot and I am developing a tic under my right eye.  My hands are shaking when I show him my Driver's License upon request.  He demands to know why I am so nervous.

So, I tell him, well, it's been a rough few HOURS and you're the fourth officer to stop by and I appreciate the safety that implies, but the strobe lights from your flashers are wrecking havoc on my system.  He asks me to step from the car.  I was going to, but just then the wrecker pulled up and so the officer backed off and gave me my license back.  He stayed long enough to ascertain that the wrecker was indeed spoda tow me home.

Then he left.  The car and I got home around 4:30 am.  The belt slipped off because the tension pulley was crooked.  SO replacing the belt and pulley, parts and labor, and tow (cuz AAA covers only one tow per incident) ran about $300.

My guy of course came to my rescue.  I generally am a cheap date.  I'm generally low maintence.  (much to the chagrin of my southern female friends who try and try to do something with my hair, makeup, clothing, etc.  but ya know, it's just not ME)  I like to pay my rent, electric, gas, insurance, phone, and garbage on time, if not early.  And that's that.

So this car has been good to me and my guy, cuz he uses it too.  Whenever we are together, this is what we take.  Other than oil changes, new tires, this is the only thing gone wrong.  So, that's not too bad.  Especially since I've had the car for 2.5 yrs and it's a 1993.

I appreciate him covering this.  I really do.  But I don't ask for much.  Really.

Just a car that runs.

To paraphrase Meredith Brooks:
  That's all I need, see how easy I am to please?

They are

My folks....ya gotta love em.  I do, cuz they are mine.  So, there's that.

But even if they weren't my folks, I'd most likely still love em.  I'd've picked em for friends and I love my real honest to the bone friends.  Ya know?

But, I gotta tell ya, this takes the cake....

wedding cake, that is.

Yep, they got remarried.

(sniffle, sniffle)  Couldn'ta happened to a better couple.  sigh

Monty's Python, revisited

Ok, dudes, remember the python that was in the delivery truck that I mentioned a few entries back?  Well, if not, go read about it, then come back, I'll wait.  WE WILL ALL WAIT, cuz I believe in group solidarity, in some cases, but I'm digress...

The rest of the story is this:  there was a 19 yr old PA dude that ordered a female python to get in on with his male python, so they could have a bunch of baby pythons.  So, where ever he ordered this female from, they put her in a plastic tube, long and slinky, cuz ya know, it's all about accessories.  And then they put the tube in a box, long and well, boxy.  Cuz really what can you do with a box, besides look, boxy?

Turns out pythons are strong (no!!  gasp, who'da thunk?!?) and she perhaps got tired of not having lots of squiggle-wriggle room.  I dunno, maybe she was getting a cramp from being in one position for so long.  Anyway, she moved. and cracked the plastic tube.  And slithered out.  And hid amonst the rest of the boxes where there was probably a little more variety, cuz that's important.  And what's even more important, at least from her perspective, I'd imagine, is the knooks and crannies and dark spaces.

So the delivery dude delivers an empty long box to the other dude, who notices it is not quite as heavy as perhaps it should be, sssssssssssssay...this is empty!!  So python-breeder dude chases after delivery dude who doesn't see the pursuent.  Next, delivery dude finds python in truck, ack!  Enter humane society.  THAT incident is on record with delivery people so when the python-breeder calls delivery company to say, hey!  My python box was empty and what's the dang-deal?!  The delivery dudes can say, oh!!!!  and put all the pieces together.

End of the story, python-breeder claims female python from humane society, after showing ID, packing slip, and fax from delivery company explaining damn-deal.   The delivery dudes still aren't too sure how this happened, cuz ya know, they still don't deliver live animals.  That's their policy.  And they are sticking to it.

I wonder if the whole thing has been too traumatizing for the python to get freaky with the new male of her life...

a quickie

just wanted to post and say,

(ahem)

"still here, hope all is well there, will write later when i have more time, lots to tell, take care, love ya bunches, bye!!"

;-)

Fresh figs!!!

A few years ago, when I first moved to Mississippi, one of my office-mates brought in some succulent little creamy rose-tinted fruits.  I tried one, it was soooooooooo good, that I ate another three.

Finally, I asked her what they were.  She seemed surprised that I didn't know that they were figs.  I didn't even know figs grew in these parts.  But yup they do.

So, my landlords have three "bushes" (that's what they call em, but they look like fully grown trees to me).  The figs are ripening as I type.  There has already been a first picking.  But, I can meander down that way and pick me some in a few days when these ripen the rest of the way.

Now for those of you who have never eaten a fresh fig let me tell you that you are missing a real treat.  Think of a grape and then a raison.  Ok, THAT'S the difference between a dried fig and a fresh one.

A fresh fig is soft, bursting with sweet honeyed nectar mixed with a slight berry taste.  The seeds are reddish pink and are not hard and gritty, but are flavorful themselves .  So gooooood, your mouth will be happy you tried one.

I can hardly wait to go fig pickin'.

sthanx for all the mammorees

Last year, in my original AOL journal, I was severely frightened by the discovery of lumps in my breasts.  It started out quite routine.  I went for my yearly pap, the nurse practioner was doing my breast exam which usually goes with a pap.

I noticed that while we were conversing for a time, she was palpitating one spot for a very unusually long time.  Like so long we made it all the way through 5 or 6 different topics.  And this is in Mississippi where we speak slower than the national average.

She said something like, "hmmmmmmmm hm, no, no I can't say as a like the feel of this."

I replied with, "no, I'm not liking it too much either."  I meant the continues poking and prodding, cuz I am a lumpee-bumpee person and always have been.  That's why I was not overly concerned about a lump or two in the breastages.

Then there was a bunch of other talk and setting up of appts with consulting surgeons and such.  Whoaaaaa. k.

So, during the manuel exam at the surgeon's office, he discovered a few more suspicious lumps.  I went for a mammogram and they found all sorts of things to alert the doc about.  During the ultrasound (I did not know they do ultrasounds on breasts, but it makes sense, I just didn't know, ya know?), we plotted (yes, I said PLOTTED) six major sacks.  Three in each breasts.  And a multitude of pebble-like grit, the size of um pebbles.

So Dr. Han Some consults with another Dr.  They agree that in all likelihood, these sacks are lumps, of the lumpee-bumpee kind.  We'll just keep an eye on em.

So we did.  Six months later, I went back for another feel me  up courtesy of Dr. Some.  Now we are at a year.

Yesterday, I went in to have the mammogram.  I was singing the Hokey Pokey because it really is what it's all about.  The nurse fit me in, tucked here, pulled there, tilted this way, ok, move your CHIN up and to the left (cough twice, no just kidding, threw that in to see if you were paying attention).

She said that I was a real trooper.  Holding up admirably well (shoulda seen me when I was younger, I held up even better, perky even, ya might say).  And because she liked me so well, she tipped the proverbial radiologist's hand.

Cuz they really aren't spoda tell ya.  Cuz that's the doc's job.  But, hey, I'm looooking gooood.  Nosignificant changes from last year.  Keeeewwwwwwl.

Still, I will keep my doc appt on the 23rd, when he squirts boob-lube on me and using his wand.......oh, yeah, that's the ticket baby.

Monty's Python

Yesterday, I read about a woman who found a four and a half foot python snuggled between the dishwasher and the countertop.  He was basking in the warmth found there.  Apparently, the previous tenant left him in the apartment, cuz...well, he got tired of having a python.  So, not only did the duplex come with all appliances, but a rather large snake (a hidden benefit that not everyone appreciates).  This woman said that after her initial fright wore off, she grew very angry.  Cuz, ya know, what if it had been in her children's room?  They at age 2 and 3 are considerably smaller than the python, even the terrier would have made a lil bite.  But, no harm done, snake went into a pillow case (i wonder if it was one of the body-pillow cases?) and set for sale....

In other python news, this morning I read that a UPS dude found a nine footer in his truck.  He thought it was a stuffed toy or a rubber realistic looking albino python, til it raised its head.  Then he stumbled away from the truck and whipped out his cell-phone to call the local humane society for help.  They manuevered said python into a canvas UPS sack and carted him off.  The UPS dude said that he has no idea how the snake got in the truck, cuz it's against regulations to deliver live animals.  I rather doubt the python knew or cared about that particular policy.

Holy Schmoly Schmack!!

Looks like Friday's Freakdom on Monday...

So, I'm reading about this guy, who goes to a doctor cuz he's got a sore throat, running a fever, and experiencing shortness of breath.  The doctor takes x-rays of his lungs.  AHA!

The culprit is a lower denture consisting of 8 teeth.  Stuck in his bronchial tube.  OMG!

Seems he lost the denture...been looking for em for ohhhhhhhhhhhh THREE YEARS.

Thanks, Paul!!

My thanks to Plittle over here and the man behind CarnivAOL.  A few entries back I was saying what a twit I could be, using losing my entry as an example.  Paul offered a wonderful suggestion to me, in e-mail.

He said that I could right-click anywhere on my desktop and choose a new text document.  That way I could write the entry, then post it, with no fuss or muss like those annoying stylistic computer language do-hickey (my words, not his) that comes when inserting word documents into AOL journal space.

Yippittee skippittee!!!  It works wonderfully well.  Thanks, Paul!!

On the Mental Health/Illness Info Front

We have scheduled a one-day support group facilitation seminar for this area.  The people with NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illnesses--name changed last month) are in large part to thank for so much of the assistance with helping us to meet our goal.  Our goal is to establish an ongoing support group for those with mental illnesses and brain disorders.

For some of my readers, you might be well-versed on my journey through this process.  This is the last of several seminars that we (a core few of us) have been attending so that we are able to conduct the support group.  We already have arranged a meeting place, with a local community-based service provider.  It's FREE, and child-care will be provided!!!  And I have offered assistance with transportation.  So it sounds like most of our bases are covered.

So why am I so nervous?

Well, actually, it's not that unreasonable to be nervous.  Why?  Well, because this is new.  It's a huge amount of responsibility.  And there are other reasons as well.

But, I am already exhausted.  This summer has been a very labor-intensive effort for me.  There was the Peer to Peer education workshop in June.  Then I attended the IN OUR OWN VOICE training in July.  And now this seminar in Aug.

And to think that the support group is set to meet on a weekly basis!!  We need it.  I will not be alone in efforts to administer to the needs of the startup and continuation.

I'm just so tired.  Happy that it is coming together so well.  But exhausted.

Just venting...

Wed cont'd

My guy had called.  His truck was in need of repair.  Great need.

The AC went out.  His brakes were going out.  And what is that bing, gurgle, bing sound??

So I drove up to his place after some heavy duty nappage.

We went to the garage.  Then went to a local sorta-deli.  It's a soup/salad/sandwich place but with a twist.  Hard to describe much more than that.

So today, Thursday, my guy gives his final!!!  Yea!!!!  finally!!  this was such the suck-ass experience for him.  I felt just awful for him.  I wanted to tell him you'll get used to having part of the class failing, no matter what.  But in the ten years I've taught college courses, I've discovered that even if you give them the exact questions prior to the test, there are some folks who are still gonna fail.  Ya can take in to the bank.

Recap Wed

Yesterday, I called Medicare.

But wait!  Let's revisit last Thursday.  I went to the local Medicaid office, who sent me to the social security office, who told me I must call the Medicare offic.  I asked if I couldn't speak to someone, face to face.  The woman looked at me, snapped and swiveled her little head on her little neck and all but shouted, I said, no!

Yeah, so ok, it took til yesterday for me to gather my wits about me and call medicare.  She wass rather nice and answered as many questions as possible.  Then she started to refer me to the medicaid office for help on the other questions I had written.  So I told her about medicaid palming me off on social security and so on.

She was shocked.  Horrified.  And dare I say that I detected a little relish in her voice?  Why, yes, I do dare!

So she typed up a few complaints at my request and submitted them and I should hear something from someone on Monday or Tuesday.

ANother Tuesday Tidbit

Cole Porter wrote and sang, "It's Too Darn Hot".

I couldn't agree with him more.

Temp:  99

Heat Index:  OMFG, nappage required.

Oh, and I'd like to say,

damn, it's HOT.  93 degrees.  In the shade.

Take into account HUMIDITY, and right now the heat index is around 105.

AND the hottest part of our day usually falls between 2-4.  So, the projected temps reach 98.  The heat index is forecasted to hit 110.

I have the PERFECT excuse for not mowing my lawn today.  You'd need to be insane to get out there in this heat.  And I am mental, but not insanely stupid.  Take THAT to the bank.

"Home, Home again, I like to be here when I can"

Well, although I had a good weekend, visitting friends, having picnics and such; I was immensely relieved when I parked in my own yard last night. Which brings up an interesting point.  And it fits nicely with Monday's Mental Illness Information.

While many people with mental illnesses are NOT rainmanesque in their need for routine and familiar surroundings, most of us do function better if we do have some amount of routine.  This routine can be highly individualized and often times whatever works for that particular individual.  Very few of us like to have our lives hemmed into a box that someone else forces upon us, but discovering what works well for us and then sticking with it makes life a little more predictable, a little less threatening, and a little more enjoyable.

Many of these things can be said of everyday people, not just those with mental illnesses.  By no means do we corner the market!  So, not only am I happy to be home, with my pups, but I am also glad to be in my own surroundings, able to adhere to my own routine.

hey there from alabam

yesterday was a very odd day.

i tried to do my medical stuff.  they sent me from one office to the other to the phone, cuz they said that there is no person that i can meet face to face.  how can that be?

anyway, i decided to worry about it next week.  so i drove over to alabama.  see some of my friends.

but first, i wanted to make the rounds i have been dreading.  stopping by to see my old properties.  seeing folks who were my life of then and have no place in it now.

o m g, my life is so much better now than it had been then.  omg.  i cannot even begin to express the horrific conditions of my previous life, as evidences by the blast from the past.

on the upside though, i did also see some wonderful folks that i've missed.  in fact, now i am spending the weekend with some of my friends i've not seen in awhile.  and i think it will all be just fine, even fun.  grin.

i'm getting sleepy.  yesterday was a big day.  more when i get home.

love  to  ya's

me

Don't phunk w/my mind

Long story, somewhat shorter.

Last week, I had an online chat with a technical customer service rep from GATEWAY.  She told that I would be receiving a replacement keyboard.  She said that I would not be charged unless I failed to return the damaged keyboard.  She said that all the information and instructions regarding both the installation of the keyboard and the return of the damaged keyboard would be included with the new keyboard.

I know this because not only do I remember our chat.  But I saved it.  Smart girl, I can sometimes be (as yoda would say).

Ok, so I get the keyboard.  No instructions.  No problem.  I download installation of replacement keyboard and print instructions for ease of access while replacing said keyboard.  I call GATEWAY and speak with a customer service representative regarding returning the damaged keyboard.

She tells me how to return it.  I write everything down.  I write very very slowly.  It's a problem I have always had.  (That's why I type so often, and use my keyboard, thus wearing it out, hello!!)  I repeat everything back to her so that I can verify that I have written everything correctly.

She tells me that I needn't be so concerned because the information she is giving me will be emailed to me in about five minutes.  She also tells me that my account has already been charged and will be reimbursed upon receipt of damaged keyboard.  This concerns me greatly as it is so not what I was already told by a representative.

I know this because not only do I remember the conversation; but, I wrote everything down.  Wise woman, I can sometimes be (as yoda might say).

So, Tuesday evening, my keyboard is replaced (yea!! Victor!!   Yea!  GATEWAY).  Wed.  damaged keyboard is returned (yea!!  FED-EX!!  Yea!!).

UMmmmmmmmmmmm, Thursday, oh about 36 hrs after telephone conversation in which I was told that I would receive information via email within 5 minutes (hm, 5 minutes, mmm 36 hrs....seeing a problem here?) I finally receive email from GATEWAY telling how to return keyboard I have returned already.

So, I replied.  I pointed out that this was extremely untimely.  I pointed out the troubling inconsistency of the information regarding billing of account.

Also, I wrote that I hope that the rest of the transaction (meaning reimbursement) will progress smoothing and in a timely manner.  This is particularly because their conduct has not been very promising.  Also because the account being affected is my guy's debit/checking acct.  Don't phunk with my guy's accnt, when it comes to my matters.

Fear w/in Me & My Mask

Wanna know sumpin scares the piss outta me?

I can be a fairly intelligent woman.  I know sometimes that might hard to believe, especially when I am using language like that above.  But I know who I am, for the most part.

I know I wouldn't have a Master's degree if I weren't intelligent.  I know I wouldn't lived through and done some of things I have, if I weren't somewhat intelligent.  I know I wouldn't be establishing an ongoing support-group for those with mental illnesses and brain disorders, if I weren't intelligent.

So what's the problem?  What scares me is when I am not intelligent.  No matter how temporary the objective time period is; subjectively, time becomes elastic and I hate every single solitary moment that I am battling for and sometimes against my own wits.

I'm speaking of times when I read some of my old academic books, and I can't seem to comprehend what I wrote in the margins.  I'm speaking of times when panic has sped my world into a whirl that I feel cannot slow or control.  I'm speaking of the wired-but-tired times of peaked mania when I feel I have donned my red dancing shoes of death and am spinning relentlessly.

Sure, everyone makes bad decisions from time to time.  Some more so than others.  This is true for us all.

It bothers me; unsettles me; that I cannot seem to clearly express, explain, or convey what is happening to me sometimes because I have no words for it.  I tell someone, please be prepared, I am not like I was three years ago, or even two, and in some ways, not even one.  I might seem dull to some who knew me, back when.

I have isolated myself in the past two years in some very radical ways.  The internet has been my connection to the outside world for weeks on end.  For months, I only spoke with a handful of people in real-life.  Slowly, I have started to widen that circle somewhat.

If I feel I cannot deal with interaction, I don't.  I turn off the ringer on my phone and let my answering service take messages.  Few people have been to my home.  Even online, if I don't want to chat, I don't sign on to Yahoo!  IM or AIM.  I guard my privacy with intensity.

Travel tires me.  I used to drive from southern Georgia to northeastern Pennsylvania, pretty much non-stop.  But now, there are times when a trip to townand back are more than I can handle.

I haven't driven to see my folks (8hrs away) for over 2 years.  Very rarely can I make the hour trip to Tupelo and back in one day.  When I drive the 2 hours to my guy's, I am out of sorts, exhausted, irritable, worn, for a day or two.  That's why when I go to see him, I plan to stay for an extended period.

It isn't just the travel, because sometimes I sleep while others drive.  It's the change in routine, the change in space, the feeling that I am off-balance.  I used to "handle" being off-balance.  But I can't anymore.

What I am trying to say, and have no clue if this is coming through....is that in many ways I feel raw and stripped-down.  Delovely (not in the way Cole Porter meant) and ungraceful, ackward and fragile....as I try to move forward from day to day, activity to activity, decision to decision.

Sometimes I can fly.  Sometimes all I can do is be.  Just exist.  And sometimes that HAS to be enough, because it's all I can do.

This post wasn't meant to be a "pity/woe is me" party for one.  Rather, to explain what I am like sometimes.  What I fear sometimes.  How I am different than I used to be, sometimes.

Why am I typing this now?  Well, two reasons hit me both this week.  My medical coverage is about to change in some very radical ways.  I was not prepared for this.  I am not sure how all this is going down.  I'll be making rounds and visiting all the governmental offices I must in order to learn what I can, to make sense of this for myself.

The other reason is because some friends whom I haven't visited in years have a special event occuring this weekend.  They've invited me.  I want to go, but I am so afraid.

I am afraid that the trip will exhaust me, that I will be irritable, that I will not be the "fun-loving weird freaky friend" they are used to.  OR the trip could very easily trigger a kindling effect.  Rapid cycling into a hard mania is worse than depression for me.  That would so not be a good thing to happen.  Especially when I am not in my own space, my own environment, my own routine.

I'm worried that the combination of the medical unknowns that I am currently struggling with, the questions of coverage (for instance, I don't even know if my counseling will still be covered)....I am worried that those concerns coupled with the concerns of the trip and weekend....I am afraid it is too much for me to handle.

I am thinking I need to bow out.  It hurts me.  I feel I am hurting my friends whom I plan(ned) to visit this weekend.  I feel I have betrayed them.  Yet, I know I have not.  I think to go, may be betraying myself.  Hurting myself moreso.

So, may be I am more of a mental-case than some folks realize.  And ya know what?  That's alright.  Cuz I have to do what I need to do to insure that I am ok within my own being, my own mind.

Does any of this make sense to anyone?

Repost from original Debra's Daily Dose (Sun 5 Dec 04)

tid bit (snicker) Whenever I feel penis envy coming over me, I simply pump my own gas.  Shaking the nozzle for that last drip...it being the right height and everything, well, there ya go.  I pump my gas always, but don't feel penis envy always, kinda like the square/rectangle thing, ya know?

Wonderful Discovery

Stick with me here, I promise it all comes together.

Ok, most of y'all know I got two TV channels, fuzzy and fuzzier.  And most of the time, they don't even come in that good.  It's all static to me.

But that's ok.  Mostly, cuz I love to read and write and I got this lil baby (the computer, internet, I mean to say).  Also, since I didn't really have TV when I was a kid, I don't really miss it all that much now.

BUT, when I am around a functional unit, I tend to get sssssucked right in.  I become fascinated with the commercials.  I forget to swallow and my eyes become glazed over.  Picture a drooling ijit with the dumb cow enrupted look and that'd be me.

Every now and then though, I hear about a show that sounds really good.  Last year, when I was visiting my folks in Arkansas, I saw an AD for MONK.  I thought, heeeeyyyyy, now that's a show I'd like to see.

Did not.

Ok so a few weeks back my "T" key on my laptop came off.  I swear I did not pry it!!  Gateway sent a new tab, but no instructions and while trying to replace it, I ended up tearing the silicone cone right off.

I am such the klutz.

So I call them, the Gateway folks send me a new keyboard.  K, now I think there is some weird logic there.  Hmmm, can't replace one key, let's send her a whole entire board.

I call on my friend's expertise.  PPpppppppppppuleeeeze help me.  He says, sure.  So I go over earlier, he fixes it, I'm a happy camper.

PLUS, I got to visit with a really cool guy.  AND he lent me the entire first season of MONK.  How cool is THAT?!?

I just watched the first disk which contains the pilot and two other episodes.  It is wonderful stuff.  Sheer delight.

See, and you didn't think this all was gonna get tied together somehow.

Oh ye of little faith.

wwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnee

I don't care if it's a dry heat or humid.

105 fahrenheit is HHHHHhhhhhhhot.

That's all I have to say about that.

(I don't have enough energy to say anything el

Tuesday's Tidbits: On Being Me

Giving you a little piece of my heart, sharing the love, can ya dig it?

I love to read, to visit with good friends, to do cawfee and tawk, to play with my dogs, to write, to eat really good ice-cream, to visit with my parents, and most of all, I love being with my guy.

For those who don't realize, my guy and I live 2 hrs apart.  He is west of Oxford and I am north of Starkville (that's Mississippi).  We get together when we can.  We talk either by phone or IM almost everyday, even if it's just to say, I care, I love ya, I'm thinking of ya.

My 65 lb. black lab has been with me since was 2 months old.  She is almost four years old.  Shaddow is so beautiful, soft, and sweet-mannered.

She loves Ziggee, who joined our home in April.  He is 2 yrs old and under 10 pounds.  He is a "rat-cha".  Rat terrier are often called Feist.  There is some chihuahua in him too.  So he is slightly bigger than a chihuahua, but smaller than a feist.  His coat is not as soft as Shaddow's.  But he does not shed nearly as much either.  Shaddow has two coats, and webbed toes, to help her swim.  Cuz that's what labs are supposed to do.

I was a cat-person til a few years ago.  Even though I loved em, I was terribly allergic.  But we never had dogs that weren't puppies.  So I did not know if I really liked Dogs or not.  By default I ended up with Shaddow.  I wouldn't give her up for the world.  I've also grown very attached to Ziggee in the short time he's been here.

The pups get along fine.  They play together.  Ziggee copies the way Shaddow lays to sleep.  It is so very calming to pet them when they are sleeping and all relaxed.

So sometimes when I think I am going to pull the cool earth over me and sprout thick green grasses, I focus on my dogs.  Because they are more than dogs to me, more than pets.  They are my companions.

I need them just as much if not more than they need me.

Panic Attacks

Around 7pm, I checked my snail mail.  There was an envelope full of Medicare stuff.  I receive Medicaid.  I freaked.

See, as mentioned in an earlier entry, last year here in Mississippi, the legislators decided that folks that receive both medicare and medicaid don't need medicaid and so those folks lost medicaid benefits.  So, I'll look some stuff up now.  I'll look some stuff up tomorrow.  I'll make phone calls.  I will try to deal with this as best I can. 

With a lil help from my friends.  Thanks Anne, Dan, and Scott.  It meant lots to me that you'll stayed online while I went on my roller-coaster ride for one.  whew.

So now, I am very afraid.  A little more clear-headed then an hour ago when I began to hyperventilate, sweat, get chills, blurred vision, heart rate tripled (at least that's what it felt like).  That's what panic is like for me.  Oh, throw in some tears, a hurting head, and the inability to form cohesive thoughts and you're a little closer to the target.  Ok, actually, if you can imagine an overwhelming need to flee that'll just about do it.

There is nowhere to run to, baby.

Monday's Mental Illness Information: NAMI's Mission

Fairly recently, NAMI changed it's name from National Alliance for the Mentally Ill to National Alliance on Mental Illness.  I think it is a good change because we can focus on generalities common to a particular disorder at a national level, while it seems it would be difficult to focus on individuals with mental illnesses at a national level.  In my opinion, labeling a person as MENTALLY ILL identifies their whole person as their diagnoses.  That's just not the case.  People first, as the ADA's language is coached, means that a person with mental illness can be seen as a total person who has a disorder but that their identity is not merely their illness.

Below is a blurp straight from the NAMI literature that I'd received this past weekend at the In Our Own Voices Training.  It focuses on the mission of NAMI.  NAMI has really changed and grown in the last 25 yrs.

"The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) was esablished in 1979 by a group of family members of those with severe mental illnesses.  Its mission was threefold:
~~To support those with menal illnesses and their families in finding coping mechanisms for their daily struggle with these illnesses;
~~To educate those with mental illnesses, their families, and the general public about mental illness with the goal of dispelling ignorances and stigma; and
~~To advocate for more research and an improved system of mental health services across the nation.

Today NAMI is a powerful self-help and advocacy organizationn.  It is the nation's largest grass-roots organization dedicated to improving the lives of all people with severe mental illnesses."

(please note:  italics are my emphases)

Ice Cream Cone Day

I went snooping at 123greetings.com to see what sort of events and holidays that might have listed.

They've declared it "Ice Cream Cone Day".

I did not have an cone, but I did have ice-cream....

Does that count?

"the hours" ticked by

Earlier today my guy and I had driven past an old closed movie theater.

I said, "The last movie I saw there was also the first one I saw there, guess that'd make it the only one I'd seen there."

My guy agreed.

I continued, "It was "The Hours".  Did you ever see it?"

My guy denied it.

I pressed on, "It was the one about, oh what's her name, she was very very depressed and eventually put rocks in her pockets and waded into the river and drowned.  Oh, you know....Nicole Kidman played her."

My guy remained silent and gazed out the windshield.

I muttered, "And Myrle Streep was in it.  And ah, ah, ah, oh, that other woman that was sorta popular for awhile and she was in that other movie with uh, ya know the one after "Silence of the Lambs".   Ya know, she played Clarice Starling?"

My guy maintained his silence and was now gazing at me.

I was becoming increasingly flustered, "K, so anyway, the movie, "The Hours" was really good.  I just can't remember who it was about.  She wrote all the time."

Very tentatively my guy offered, "Sylvia Plath?"

"No, no, no, she has her own movie and I think ummm, uh, either Paltrow or Diaz portrays her."

He tries again, cuz obviously this is really bothering me, "Dorothy Parker?"

"No, no, no, she was played by Winona Ryder I think, or maybe I'm wrong...."

He lapses into silence.

I admit momentary defeat, but vow that I will win the battle I waged against myself, "You know good and well that as soon as I get home, I am looking it up on the net."

He nods.

About 15 minutes later, I cry triumphantly from the study, "Virginia Wolff!!"

He agrees with relief.

I feel better.

I think he feels better that I feel better, cuz I'm pretty sure it was starting to get to him.

He puts up with lots.

I love him so.

A common complaint

undergraduate student:
    You mean, I was supposed to buy the textbook?

Instructor
    Yes.  Reading it would have been the next step.

Student
    But since I didn't read the book, can't you let me take a make-up?

Instructor
    No.  That would be grossly unfair to the students who read the syllabus, bought and read the textbook, attended class, and followed the instructions.

Student
    but, this is soooooooooooooo stupid.  I mean this course isn't even all that important to me.

Instructor
    Then neither will the failing grade you've earned seem important.

Student
    stk (this sound is accompanied with a roll of the eyes, a glare, a flip of the hair, a stomp of the foot, and/or a slam of the office door)

**A side note:  I really like it when the student tries to slam a pneumatic door.  Hey, I take my chucks where I can get them.

Not a Real Cop,

didn't even play one on TV; but, Victor Edward Willis was the cop in the Village People.  Remember them?  Heard of them?  Ya know, YMCA, MACHO MAN, and IN THE NAVY?  Flashback to the 70s?  Yeah, them.

Well, it seems recently Willis got pulled over in his Corvette by a real cop in California.  Things aren't looking so good for the guy.  No valid license, no registration, no insurance, then there's the lying...cops are pains about that pesky lil thing, like pretending you are someone else...oh, and let's not forget the .45, coke, and all its paraphenelia.

Although Willis lives in a mobile home, he was able to post the $100,000 bail.  Gosh, Wally, how'd that happen?  Anyway, Willis faces arraignment 16 August.

On a lighter note,

well, actually, I'm sure to the Mom of this baby girl, the matter was definitely NOT light.

"CORBIN, Ky. - A baby girl weighing a whopping 14 pounds, 3 ounces was born in Kentucky, a hospital official said. The baby was born Tuesday by Caesarean section and appeared healthy, said Susan Whittymore, a nursing supervisor at Baptist Regional Medical Center"

OK, just the IDEA of that makes me cringe.   That's a really, really big baby.  Really.

Rally in Support of Protest

Rii'cher in Starkville, Mississippi

Dorothy Bishop has a beef to pick, so do most of us who receive medicaid coverage (or lack thereof) for medication.  The MAJOR difference is that this 62 year old woman stepped up to the plate to grab the public's and representatives' attention.  Or rather she lay down, upon the bed she made, on the porch of Oktibbeha County's Courthouse.

See, last year Haley Barbour and the Merry Band of Mississippi's Legislature decided that receipients of both medicaid and medicare don't really need both.  So, he dropped medicaid benefits, affecting over 65,000 constituents directly.  This does not take into account their families, care-providers, etc.  B'bye to services besides absence of medications.  Services like, oxygen tanks, dialysis, diabetes supplies, and more were poof! gone.

If THAT weren't enough, medicaid has been cut this year (actually this month, and we only got notice about it mid-June, wonderful, eh?).  Among other changes, we now are limited to coverage of a MAXIMUM of five (5) prescriptions per month, with a MAXIMUM of two (2) of those being name-brand.  Most pharmaceutical companies that do offer assistance to the indegent, have criteria such as you cannot have any prescription coverage at all.  So for those of us with medicaid, even though coverage is severely inadequate, we cannot qualify for most other programs.

Not only was this not a smart move socially, ethically, etc.; but Barbour cut his nose off to spite his face.  The largest demographic to put him in office are those very folks now hurting because of his legislature's actions.  Elderly, disabled, and poor be damned is the message most of us are hearing loud and clear.

I myself am prescribed more than the allotted five and more than two are brand-name, because there is no generic alternative.  And you probably already guessed that most of my meds are not cheap.  About $500 worth of medication passes over my lips per month.  Three of my medications are about $100 each.

So, today, there is a rally protesting legislation and the cut-backs.  Supporters of Bishop won't be alone at the courthouse.  In fact, I'm fairly sure that we'll see a nice crowd of people representing various demographics. Young, old, disabled, single, family, working class, professionals, white, black, hispanics, and college students will be there.

I hope it does SOME good, although I have my doubts.  Call me cynically jaded if you must, but the truth is North Mississippi doesn't seem to exist to the folks calling the shots down in Jackson.  Not surprised, just disappointed.

In Our Own Voices

National Alliance On Mental Illness --  NAMI

From Friday 8th through Sunday 10th, I participated along with 16 others in NAMI's In Our Own Voices Training.  First let me say, it was awesome.  We had a great trainer who kept us focused and on track, was patient, and she had a wicked sense of humor that we all loved.  A great big shout out to Miss Sarah!!!

We had a chance to hone our own stories so that we can speak to various audiences in the hopes to better educate them about being mentally ill.  The ultimate goal is to decrease stigma and discrimination.  Knowledge is power.

Also, if the group is made up of those who are newly diagnosed, then we can offer them hope and a brighter beacon.  Even though all of our experiences are different, tthere are many similarities.  Like deep feelings of despair during darkest days when we hit rock bottom.

Acceptance for all of us occurs differently in the details, but follows a general pattern.  Treatment generally includes medication, therapy, maybe group support, etc.  Coping skills commonly include routine, rest, good diet, exercise, support network...but some things work better for some than others.  For instance, I love to read and write.  But someone else might find painting to be calming.

Then we wrap up with focusing on past, present, and future successes, hopes, and dreams.  One of my successess is that I have been, am, and will be working to establish a support group for this general area.  I hope that one day I will be able to finish my PhD.  I dream that the relationship with my guy continues tto grow and we might one day marry and have a family.

So, that was my weekend in a "nut" shell.

Posting possibilities

This weekend, I will be participating in NAMI's In Our Own Voice Training down in Raymond, MS (which is just west of Jackson).  So I most likely won't be posting til next week.  As for this week, I am preparing for the conference so I might not post much in the next few days either.

No sleeping with the Fishes allowed

I don't run with wolves; I sleep with my dogs.

     OR

Blog + Congestion = Blah

     OR

Ya know, sometimes my life and its events may seem boring to others...but then again, that's not really my problem, now is it?  I am not owning THAT problem, I got enough that are legitimately mine in the first place without going around looking for problems.  So if this isn't your cup of tea today, move on.  It could be my life and its events are never your cup of tea, because you cannot abide by the stuff.  If so, that's fine.  There are other fishes in the sea, blogs to read, move along.

Having said all that, I'm ready to resume my post.  Whew.  (don't go twisting MY panties in a wad, she mutters as she shleps off)

My brain has been swirling with activity one hour and then frizzled into exhaustion the next.  At which time, I climb aboard my newly acquired second-hand queen bed and set sail for oblivion.  The dogs usually climb up after I have arranged myself just so.

I love my slumber.  Especially deep restful sleep that revitalizes all the spaces deep in my soul and psyche.  Even if I have troubled dreams, even if I awake as exhausted as before I dropped into the realm of subconsciousness...even then, I welcome sleep.

That is because I know what it is like for me to not sleep.  I am not speaking of your late night/early morning "burning the candle at both ends" shortage of sleep.  I mean the extended periods of about 72 hours or more with no rest, let alone sleep.

I am not an intern.  I am not attempting residency.  I am not participating in extended marathons requiring alertness.

In fact, I strive to maintain healthy sleep hygiene.  Admittedly, sometimes I fail miserably at that, setting of a nasty cycle of events that could quickly escalate into hypermania.  This is not pretty to witness.  It is not pleasant to experience.  It is something to avoid at nearly all costs.

Having said that, I know that sometimes lose of sleep and disturbance in sleep routines cannot be avoided.  I just try to minimize that sort of occurance as much as I can.  That really is all I can do.

Adequate, quality sleep is a must for everyone.  If you yourself are not getting the sleep you need, please do yourself (and every one else around you) a favor and work towards setting a better schedule, creating a more conducive environment, and achieving the sleep you deserve.  This message has been brought to you by the letter "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz".

My Big July 2nd (grin)

So, ok, this morning started off with us both being a bit on the short side of our tempers, not for any one particular reason but the damn heat and humidity was not helping matters at all.  My guy and I were in his pick-up, rolling down my dusty-ass country dirt road when we meet this other vehicle coming toward us with the two men and one woman waving frantically at us.  So we stop along side them.

"I lost me a lil ole brown n white mule.  She sho is a beeeyooouuut."  says the driver.
The woman leans over, as though the additional 6 inches is going to help us hear her better over the truck engines and such.  "the game warden said she's out this-a way"
The other man seats silently against the passenger door.  I have a feeling he must be no stranger to that position.
The driver says, "yap, so if'n ya see her, give us a call."

We didn't have to.  Because the mule came out of the tall hay onto the gravel road behind them and started to amble on away.  So we pointed out that the mule was right there, behind them.  The woman shoved the man out of the way, he held the door open for her and then got back in to resume his position once she grabbed the pail and rope from the bed of the truck and went to catch her the mule.

The driver was right, she sure was a pretty lil thing.  The mule, not the woman.

We continued on into town, where I was going to upgrade my sleeping accomodations.  I was thinking it would be a simple deal.  Not a big production.  Nope.  I thought wrong.

See, a couple months ago, I decided that the reason that I was not getting much sleep when my guy came over was because my bed was a full size while his is California King.  We were both accostumed to our own sprawl.  Now, that was not to slight my guy, cuz there are other reasons I might not get much sleep when he is here, but being mindful of AOL's TOS...well, I'm sticking to the "not enough room to sleep" story.

By the way, no one has box SPRINGS anymore, they have platforms (which they call springs, but there are no springs involved).  Platforms are usually poorly constructed from cheap materials and cannot withstand wear and tear.  The yellow pine 1x1 which is stabled to the cardboard is NOT the same as springs.  Just thought ya might like to know.

So, long story somewhat shorter...I found this good deal where I could exchange one of the mattresses I had for a complete queen sized set.  Or so I thought, cuz it may be not such a good deal.  It's all said and done with, over, so now we wait.

But right now, it ain't looking so good for the mattress queen, I mean, team.  Tonight, my guy mutters to me that the bed is too friggin hard.  On the prepice of sleep he mumbles that he might as well go on, because he can tell he won't be able to (snore).

I have enough room to arrange my limbs just so.  Settling my head at just the right angle, I close my eyes and sigh.  Then after two hours I finally get up.  Cuz my guy is doing the herky jerky in his sleep and I'm not getting any (sleep that is).  I don't know if he has restless leg syndrome, if he was having a bad night's rest, if he was dreaming of falling, or what.  But it was one spasm after another and not quite enough time for me to get to sleep between times.

Anyway, we find the mule, we exchange bed sets, we get said set set-up, take showers, and head out to Old Navy.  My guy has been so sweet to me.  Especially during the whole mattress, bed, "how does the friggen frame fit" thing...

Now folks, ya ain't gonna be believing me on this, but...I hate to shop.  Very rarely will I enjoy shopping.  We went to Old Navy (I thought) so we could get some clothes for him.  Cuz he likes to look good and rightly so.

Before today, I have never been inside an Old Navy.  Freaky, huh?

Well, let me tell ya, those folks in the fitting room were probably glad to see my butt leave the store, because I must have tried on every style of clothing in the plus size in that store.  We found a very cool jacket, sorta "Spanglish" like, in a sage green.  Love it, love it, love it.  Two black halter-tops...blush, I decided to try on one of the maternity tops and it fit better than the regular ones, so I bought it, dammit!!  Actually, these were all treats from my guy.

He took me to a chinese restaurant.  Wonderful.  Then he took me back to Old Navy and I tried on 12 pairs on pants (I kid you not, I even threw in another pair so I'd have a baker's dozen).  Sweat was rolling down my cheeks, I was reminded why I don't really care to shop.  It's not fun struggling in and out of stuff and painful for me to stand there and stare in the mirror.

But I modeled for my guy, and we would laugh and joke about some of the stuff.  No right minded company should have ever cut size 2xl warm-ups with pink and purple elephants dancing on them.  That's just WRONG, people!!

My guy was amazing and helped enormously with the decions of what looked good and what did not.  The shopping trip turned into an all about me spree and he was really cool with that.  In fact, I think he was pretty tickled with my "kid set loose in a candy store" reaction.

So, first we find a mule, then we take it to the mattresses (not the mule, just a phrase I thought would be appropriate), then we go shopping, break for dinner, and shop some more.

But wait!!  It's not over.  Nope.

We went to see "War of the Worlds".  It was pretty good.  Towards the beginning of the movie, just as all hell breaks loose (I feel I can say that and not be spoiling any surprises here, right?), I think, "what would I do, if something so totally beyond my realm of comprehension were to rear its ugly little head and bite my butt..."  Let's hope THAT never happens, cuz I would be about as useful as a semi-formed bowl of jello.

Anyway, that was my big day, and it's not even the fourth yet!!  Enjoy the rest of your holiday weekend and be SAFE.

Dedicated to the one I love...talkin' 'bout my guy...

When my guy and I first met, my life was undergoing some radical changes.  I had gone from being a graduate student working on a PhD to being disabled and not coping very well with that.  I was living off savings, having not yet been cleared to receive my SSI/SSDI checks.  I was terribly uncertain about any aspect of the future.  I had tried to work as a cashier for a few days with a grocery store, but tired easily and had debilitating panic attacks when I forgot a procedure, thus gumming up the works and having to wait for the customer service manager to come unravel the situation.  In general, I was a mess.

When my guy first came to my house, I was very nervous.  I had no idea if I was ready to even consider dating someone, let alone actually doing it.  I was very anxious that I would have a panic attack, and I knew that worrying about it was increasing the odds of having one, but I just couldn't seem to get a grip.

My guy was very gentlemanly.  He was quiet and observant, calming.  He spoke with me about my many books and some various academic theories.  He put me at ease because this was familiar terrain to me.  He asked questions and listened to what I had to say.  Given my past relationships with men, that was a bit of a marvel to me.

We took things slow.  Really spent the time to get to know one another.  It was the first time, the only time really, that I've ever really DATED anyone.  He was very patient with me, concerned, caring, and attentive.

Gradually, my panic attacks in public places grew less frequent.  He had been safely encouraging me to take more and more baby steps, further and further, in my path of rediscovering myself, remolding myself, and coming to terms with the very idea of being "Mentally Ill".  Because he accepted and loved me, I began to, too.

He has seen me at high hysterical peaks of Mania and low despairing depths of depression.  He has seen me happy and lively, laughing.  And he has tucked me in to bed when I could barely drag the covers over my body.

While all this was going on with me, he was and is there every step of the way.  During this, he has decided to apply for PhD programs, interviewed, and been accepted.  Those of you who are regular readers know that he has just completed his first year.

He works as a psychologist for the State.  He also is coauthoring a chapter on interviewing children, their teachers, and parents.  He is also teaching 50+ undergrads in a summer course that is very intense.  He is also taking on other responsibilities.

His own personal life and relationships with others has taken some rather sharp turns since we've known each other.  His grandfather has died.  Family members have been ill.  He's moved and helped his siblings move.

He is there for me.  He is there for his mother.  Should his sisters ever call upon him, he's there for them, too.

Is he perfect?  No.  But he may be perfect for me.  We communicate well.  He is willing to discuss misunderstandings til we clear them up.  We laugh together, but he lets me cry too.

He has times of doubts.  He worries that he might be over-extending himself with all the work that he is committed to doing, and doing well.  Sometimes, I think he is too hard on himself, expecting and pushing himself toward perfection.  Ease up, I tell him.  Give yourself a break, I say.

Sometimes, he shows far more consideration for others than he allows himself.  He even lets me take my dogs with me when I go to visit him.  During spring break, he got a hotel room that allowed pets so I did not have to make other arrangements.  He did it without me even asking him to.

He tells me I look wonderful, that I am wonderful, when I feel horrid and am sure that I look just as bad.  He encourages me to exercise, but doesn't harp on me about it.  Sometimes, he watches me with a special look in his eyes and on his face, and I know that I am loved.

Ya know, I don't have to hold out for a hero, because I've already found him.  So, as yet another song says, let's hear it for my baby!!

I'm a spaz, see...?

Ok, I am sometimes reminded, painfully, of just how much of a spaz I can be...

A couple of months ago, toward the end of April, I think, I was outside and managed to fall UP the concrete steps leading into my trailer.  I cracked my kneecap into the edge of said concretely immobile, hard step.  My knee swelled and turned lovely shades of purple, black (oh! yes! there are shades of black), red, and blue before fading to a sickening combination of yellow and brown as most bruises do.  I thought, given time and ice and elevation and naproxium sodium, it'll be fine.  Just fine.

WRONG!!

So I am still having unstable moments (with my knee, I'm talking about here), where my knee feels like it is going to twist.  My muscles are twitching.  I have a soft squishy mass (how's that for medical terminology?) floating on top and around my kneecap.  Any time something brushes me, including the friggen bed-sheet, sharp stabbing pains take my breath away.  But all this is occassional.

So, Monday, I go see the doc.  She scolds me, I shoulda came in when it happened in April.  Yeah, well.  I'm a spaz, we are not entirely responsible or rational people.  She schedules me for Physical Therapy today.  I ask about x-rays, she says no, I go away.

So, I go today to see what I will see.  The therapist says that she doesn't like the way my knee feels.  I don't either.  She says that she isn't comfortable with it.  You're telling me!  She says that she would really like me to be x-rayed.  I go back to doc, get orders, and go get x-rayed.

Now, we wait.  The radiologist comes in at 8a (I'm sure s/he'll have other rays to read too).  After the radiologist reads said rays, s/he notifies my doc, who notifies me and the Physical Therapist...at least that's how it goes in theory.

IN other spazziness...

I went to the pig drawing site.  I drew a pig.  I reloaded to clear the drawing board a number of times.  Finally, I just drew as best I could, cuz my muscles were getting more spastic the more I try to steady them.  That sucks.

It's ok to laugh at my pet pig.  My friend's 6 year old daughter could do much better than me.  BUT, that's MY pig.  stomp.

Draw a Pig

See my pig and what it has to say about me.....

Boy gives birth to baby?!? NOT

Today must be the day for amazement as I glance through the BBC news.  A 16 year old boy in Bangledesh was complaining of stomach pains.  Doctors discovered a four and a half pound fetus that had formed inside him, with the exception of a head.

WHAT?!?  How is THAT possible?

Well, very rarely there may be a situation which arises in which two fetus develop as conjoined twins (as in the "siamese twins" scenerio); but, one fetus absorbs the other, resulting in a case of inclusion twins.  The absorbed fetus continues to develop, as a tumor would, inside the other twin--even after birth.

Ok, my thoughts are:

"Oh... my god"

and then

"good thing this is very rare."

I can't quite imagine the sorts of trauma the 16 year old boy and his family are enduring.  I can't quite imagine the situation.  What a very odd thing...

"Ta-Ta For Now", Mr. Winchell

Who patented an artificial heart in 1963?

How about a disposable razor?  Or invisible garter belt?  Or a flameless cigarette lighter?

It was the same man as was the voice for Tigger in Winnie the Pooh.  Tigger is known for his jovial parting phrase, ta-ta for now.  Paul Winchell applied the tag line, borrowing it from his british wife's repetoire.

Winchell voiced Disney's Tigger from 1968 to 1999
Paul Winchell did many things in his life.  Surprising that he had accomplished such a wide variety of noteworthy feats.  It is sad to say, he passed away, at age 82, today.

NAMI (California) & Tom Cruise

Well now, it just doesn't get any stranger than this...at least, not tonight.

NAMI-California
RE:  Tom Cruise/Access Hollywood

"Departing from his more familiar role as a movie hero, actor Tom Cruise recently made a foray into medicine," playing doctor of the day..."what you do is vitamins," Cruise asserts.

Yes, vitamins can sometimes supply helpful doses to the depleted systems, no doubt.  But, "(b)ecause of sharp drops in hormones, as many as 80 percent of women feel some depression in the first two weeks after giving birth. For about one in 10 women, though, the depression grows more and more acute" resulting in post-partum depression.  These women " have a real illness one that needs treatment by professionals, not amateurs," the Houston Chronicle states.

NAMI & the Silver Ribbon Campaign for the Brain

It's sleek, elegant, and classy.  It is a pin that looks professional enough to wear on my jacket's lapel.  It stands for anti-stigma, first and foremost.

"Always Wear a Silver Ribbon:
To show you care about someone with a brain illness
To help break down the barriers to treatment and support
To help eliminate the stigma against those who suffer
To show you believe there is HOPE
Through education and research"

National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) has a website with many informative and helpful links.  Not only can you learn about various brain disorders and mental illnesses, you can also learn about what sorts of resources and support groups are available in your area, you can enroll in their FREE education courses (Peer to Peer and Family to Family, just to name two), what YOU can do to make a difference, and so much more.  I encourage you to educate yourself because chances are you know someone who has depression, bipolar disorder, or some other brain illness.  Help to fight the stigma, take the first step, arm yourself with knowledge; because knowledge is power.

...by any other name, is just the same

Well, that's not entirely true.  But whether you call them sandwiches, scrammiches, crammiches, sammiches, sammies, hougies, sub, BLT, clubs, pb & j's, fluffer-nutters, po'boys, stackers, reubens, sloppy joe's, burgers, et al.; you basically know that you are going to get some sort of filling, stuffed in bread.  Lots of folks have extremely rigid rules about what constitutes authentic sandwiches and any particular derivation there of.  I insist that reubens must be served on toast rye, with sauerkraut, swiss, thousand island dressing, and corned beef.  But that is just me.

The other day, I got a hankering (that's right, I said 'a hankering') for some sandwiches.  So off I went to the deli (not a real one, but as close to, what we have to make do with in this area, Wal-Mart's deli, while not being bad, it is not a DELI, ya know?).  I got some lunchmeats and cheeses.  I found some tomatoes and chips.

Since I already have multigrain bread, the first thing I did when I got home was stack it with provolon cheese, tomato slices, and braunschweiger (liverwurst).  I had not had a sandwich like that since I lived in Pennsylvania, sitting in my grandfather's kitchen as a child, munching away.  In fact, it was so good, I fixed another one.

I also am fully stocked on nutella, peanut butter (smooth and creamy as well as crunchy), various jellies, marshmallow fluff (creme), and a snicker's flavored PB MAX (which is actually quite good).  I even found some Smucker's GOOBER striped strawberry jelly and peanut butter in a jar at the local "2nd Chance Grocery" (like a bent and dent).

Now I am sure we can all come up with concoctions that others found to be just downright gross....Personally, I don't think I could stomach a peanut butter and onion sandwich, but if you can, more power to ya.  I don't mind that some folks turn their noses up at my peanut butter and banana sandwich, it means there is more for me.  Cuz when I crave (ya know, get a hankering) for a certain combo, I get stuck on them for awhile.  Currently I am well stocked.

I have not gone to the extremes of joining any of the Sandwich Clubs.  I have no sandwich named after me.  I don't collect sandwich recipes (well, I don't collect recipes of any kind, I kinda wing it).  I am not going to go into the entire history of sandwiches, cuz you can do that on your own if you want.

But I will gladly recommend Lenny's Subs.  It is an expanding franchise that strikes as close to authentic subs as possible.  If there isn't one near you, there most likely will be soon.

NAMI Peer to Peer Education

I have a notebook of information to go through from the workshop that took place over the last two weeks.  Most of the hand/print-outs are very straight-forward and do not require much attention.  However, there are a few pages that are very detailed and noteworthy, so I expect to get to them sometime this week.

The workshop was a good thing.  We had a few rough spots, but that is to be expected in just about any sort of gathering.  There were some light-hearted funny moments and some very intense, draining periods too.  Thing is, we all learned something and we all contributed something.

For me, I think one of the most important points I have made to myself is that I am capable of organizing and seeing something through.  I had a few moments of serious doubt, but I was able to push through those times and make adjustments for myself.  Every afternoon, I would come home and take a two hour nap.  I would then get up and do a few things and still make it to sleep at a reasonable hour.  The sessions were very tiring for me, but not impossibly exhausting.  Overall, the good and positive outweighed any negative.

Dad's Day

If I had to pick one thing about my father that defines him for me, I would say that it is that he never put himself on a pedestal, remaining human and not at all perfectly god-like.  You might think this is a left-handed compliment, but in reality, it is one of the highest compliments a child can pay to her father.  I hope I can clearly express what I mean, but if I fail, just know that I love my dad and I know he loves me too.

See, since I knew my dad was a person (like me), I knew that he would and could make mistakes and that when he did, he never tried to excuse them as not being his.  He owned up to his perceived short-comings.  Sometimes, he would be a little too hard on himself and this while not being condoned, allowed me to identify with him as a person more so.

Dad served as a paratrooper in Vietnam, before I was born.  He was a truck-driver in my earliest childhood memories.  I remember that when dad was home on lay over, we had to be really quiet or go outside to play, so we wouldn't disturb his rest.

As a very small child, I thought dad defined dads, and men in general, by comparison.  Nobody beat out MY dad.  He took the time to be with me, where as lots of my friends' fathers seldom spent time with them.

When I was about 6, we had a large garden and dad was forever showing me which was weed (pull em) and veggie (DON'T pull em); then, before long I was back to pulling all the tender green no matter if it was weed or seedling.  Dad would come back and show me all over again.

He was fun too.   Dad took me swimming in the scaree water, held me securely while I got used to the rushing chill and the tiny minnows.  He would load us up and take us to get banana-splits for an extra special treat.

Then as I grew older through my teens, it seemed that although dad was spending more physical time around, he was absent in some ways.  He always had time though to discuss endlessly with me.  Eventually, I came to realize that dad was coping with things I would not TRULY understand, although I could be supportive of him in his efforts.  Some of those things dealt with PTSD (Vietnam), self-worth/esteem issues, addiction (alcoholic, dry for 15 years now!!!  good on you, pop!), and sorting out how he feels and thinks about a variety of issues that challenged assumed perceptions.

In a very big way, this makes me very proud of him.  Knowing that he has come a long way in realizing/recognizing, dealing with, resolving, etc. and seeing how he has grown and changed, adapting reactions from anger or rejection to acceptance and understanding is so very admirable.  My dad has had lots thrown at him over the years, and not all of it has been of his own making.

In my mid-twenties, my father and I grew alot closer than we had been.  We traveled together.  We also experienced some intense bonding, such as getting tattoed together.

We began to accept each other as adults, although I will always be his daughter and he, my father.  In the last few years, as I wade through my thirties, he has supported me in many ways in my own struggles.  Dad has been a silent strength for me to rely on when I was udderly bewildered by diagnoses and treatments of my mental illnesses.  He was rock steady in his support, a constant in shifting sea of chaos.

He is a source of guidance, intelligence, humor, comfort, and so much more...but most of all, love.  My dad is a wonderful person, man, father.  I admire him for all that he is.  It is an honor to claim him as my dad, the whole of him, with all the perks and quirks included.

Dad, I love you.  Thanks for being you.  Love, your darling daughter debbie

Just a quick note

Last night, as I was hanging up the phone, I heard a man's voice.  It just about scared the crap outta me, and I was wearing my cute little cotton pj's with little red cherries all over em.  So instead of sticking near the phone, a sign of true intellegence...I rushed toward the front of my place in the direction of the man's voice.  This is just what Shaddow my almost 4 year old lab would have done.  Thank god it was Scott.  It only stands to reason.  But it was such a big huge surprise and a very pleasant one at that.  So, I just wanted to let y'all know that I'm still alive and will be updating very soon about the NAMI workshop that was, the NAMI workshop that will be, brain-surgery and other ambitions, and stuff like that.  Ok, I just threw the brain surgery thing in there to see if you were REALLY paying attention.  Huggles to all the dad's out there.

Long Time, No Write

It has been over a week since I last posted an entry to my journal.  One of the main reasons is because Saturday (a week ago) I drove home and went to a Green Party meeting immediately after unpacking the car.  The meeting was interesting and I saw folks I have not seen in 2 years.  That was in large part because last year, I was very very isolated to the farm and did not venture forth to be social on very many occasions.

After the meeting, a good friend and I went to the ice-creamery and sat and visited for hours and hours.  We caught up with each other and discussed many things.  It is always great to visit with her and I am so glad that she had the time to do so.

The following day, I met with another friend for lunch at Ruby Tuesday's.  We both got the Salad Bar and loaded baked potato combo.  We visited and it was so great to see her.  I do see her often in her home, but it is usually with her small children, so it was wonderful to just focus on her.

Monday was her birthday and I went to Wally's World and bought items to make gift bags for several friends.  They were all pamper-me bags.  The one for the Birthday Girl was filled with melon lotions, body butter, wash, and spray; as well as, a huge bottle of caramel scented 3 in 1 wash, conditioner, shampoo.  I also enclosed money to pay back for the lunch.  I had wanted to treat her to lunch but was able only to cover my own.  So I told her Sunday that I would be paying for her lunch the next day.  She was very gracious about that, because she understood that I was not inviting her to lunch and then making her buy her own birthday dinner!  She really liked her bag and couldn't wait to use some of the products.

Another bag went to a friend who just received the final confirmation that she can fly to Guatamala in July and pick up the baby girl that she and her husband have been in the process of adopting.  The baby will be 11 months old then.  They have known since she was 3 weeks old that she was their daughter, but it takes time to clear everything.  In the meantime, they were able to receive pictures and videos of her and they were able to send her clothes and things.  But it is so exciting to have the last piece click into place.  So, her bag was baby products that you can't really get enough of...q-tips, baby shampoo, baby powders, A&D ointment, etc.  She thanked me and that makes it all worthwhile.  I like knowing that it was an appropriate gift and that the recipient is happy with the gift.

The other bag was also filled with lotions, body butter, cocoa butter, sprays, fizz balls for the bath, body scrubs, foot scrubs, etc.  I had given that to my friend that I met on Saturday over ice cream.  Her birthday is next month.  So I included a "just because" amount and a birthday amount of stuff.  I included a line of warm vanilla sugur products because I love them and I really thought she would like them too.

Monday I saw my therapist and we decided that we should start meeting every week for awhile.  Especially since I have been having a rough time with staying stabilized and not swinging wildly to euphoric mania and plunging deep into depression.  I have been having a hard time regulating my meds and sleep patterns.

Then, Thursday and Friday were the first two days (the first half) of the NAMI workshop that I'd been helping to bring to this area.  NAMI is the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill.  They are a not-for-profit organization with grass roots, for consumers, by consumers.  I had contacted them in February because I wanted to know how and what we could do to establish our own ongoing support group.  This is the first in a series of steps.  It is Peer to Peer Education.  The second half of the workshop will be this week, Thursday and Friday.

So, Tuesday and Wed, I had been contacting folks to remind them about it.  We had set the dates for this back in April.  At that time, I had 10 folks commited.  Only 5 showed up.  Some folks had poor health issues, which is always a real risk that is present for any obligation.  That's why so many of us don't or can't commit to things because we are not able to predict how we might be feeling at any point in time.  Some of the folks forgot that the workshop was coming up and planned other things which conflicted with their being able to attend.  I was rationally understanding, but emotionally I was worried about how many actually would show and whether they would conduct the workshop anyway.   They asked for a minimum of 6 to 12, but they said that it was ok that only 5 were there.  It actually made for a better group, I think because we are able to participate more and to move along at a faster clip.

However, those days exhausted me.  On Friday, we had storytelling/sharing scheduled.  So I was even more tense.  OF course we have the option to pass and not disclose, but I felt as though it would be good for me to be able to disclose to a friendly group as practice.  Because as self-advocacy and an advocate in general, I need to be able to speak about MI and not give the impression that it is shameful, embarrassing, or criminal.  So, Friday I shared and then came home and was exhausted with headaches and muscle tension and spent much of the weekend recuperating from the emotional drain and physical wear and tear.

So, that's how this past week has been.  Busy, busy, busy.

Me, me, me, meeeeeeeeee...meme

Andi Klee has tagged me with a meme, which is "a unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another", that has been bopping about blogs and journals everywhere...on the net, that is.  The general idea is to select and complete five of the sentences below.  Then, tag three folks to participate in the perpetuation of the meme.

If I could be a musician...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a justice on any court in the world...
If I could be a world famous blogger...
If I could be married to any current world politician...
If I could be a scientist...
If I could be an actor...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an innkeeper...
If I could be an agent...

Although I know that my occupational options are not limitless,  I do believe that I can be quite a few of those items listed above.  Indeed, I already am a some of those things; take for instance, a writer (and most likely you are too).

I would not be, nor could not be (gee, doesn't that sound sort of Seussian?) a psychologist, a lawyer, an architect, a justice, nor a politician's wife.  But if I could....

...be a psychologist, my guy and I could set up practice together, although I don't know if that would be such a great idea.  For a few reasons, but one would be tension, from spending work and home lives together.  What if we championed conflicting schools of thought?  shudder

...be a lawyer, I would NOT be a divorce lawyer.  In fact, I think I would opt for a fairly non-confrontational route, like intellectual property, dealing with patents, trademarks, and copyrights out of the the United States Patent and Trademark Office.  yea, yea THAT'S the ticket.

...be an architect, I would design my own home.  And libraries.  Cuz I love libraries.  sigh.

...be a justice, I would NOT be a Supreme Justice, way way way to stressful.  Might possibly could maybe look into a very small town justice of the peace.  See the above comment on lawyers.

...be a politician's wife, I would give thought to marrying the first woman president of the US....and how probable is THAT?!?

who to tag, who to tag, who to tag...?  I have no clue so I'll post later on that.