“The angel from my nightmare”

You break my heart every day, but I would fix it for you.  You’ve been so far away for a while now.  You’re way over there and only now do I realize how much I miss you.

“The shadow in background”

It bugs the shit out of me.  Why couldn’t I do this when we had a chance, why couldn’t you be this way then?  Am I only feeling this as an avoidance technique?  You are right there and I miss you.

“The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley”

I’ve known you a thousand different ways, but you just know the real me.  I’ve avoided you out of fear and mistrust, and you let me.  You’re always so close, but I miss you.

“Don’t waste your time on me, you’re already the voice inside my head”

I gave myself this weekend to fight my funk.  I prescribed a combination of sleep, couch time, and catching up to try and clear my head.  Sleep would kill the apathy I have for everything right now.  Relaxing couch time to decompress, to let go of stress.  Getting stuff done around the house, tying up loose ends and being caught up will give me less to stress about next week.  It’s the best plan I could have made to try and combat this cloud that’s been hanging around all week.  I can’t change the big things that are stressing me out, but I can do these steps to make it easier to handle.  I went into it trying to believe that by Monday morning I would be ready to do this life again.

It’s not working.  Instead of feeling more ready to put up the fight next week I feel like I’m drowning.  Sleep is a mess because my neck and back are on fire.  I can’t get comfortable enough in bed to fall asleep, but I pass out on the couch when ever I lay down.  Couch sleep is probably causing half of the knots in my back.  An insane amount of stress is causing the rest, and the heart palpitations.  Ever have those?  They hurt in a way I can’t even describe.  Besides the uncomfortable sleep, I have the dreams.  Dream isn’t the best word for these, you have to be sound asleep to dream.  This is my brain, screaming, while I toss and turn.  Do you know how long it’s been since I had a full eight hours of sleep?  If my face isn’t giving it away, it’s been months.  It’s a vicious cycle when the stress won’t let you sleep, and the lack of sleep makes you unable to deal with stress.

I passed out on the couch seven hours ago while waiting to see if I was going to be stood up tonight.  I woke up three hours ago and played the “Depressed Asshole” card to get myself out of the other obligation I had.  I crawled in bed, cranked up the heating pad, and prayed for sleep while I watched the Flickr pictures scroll across this screen.  An hour and a half later I finally drifted off.  The phone started ringing, and I was annoyed as I rolled around looking for it.  What, do you want to see if I’ve killed your dog, or bitch because I didn’t come out this weekend?  What?  Picture Caller ID is the best invention ever, even in my angry sleep haze I smiled when I saw his face.

Hearing his destroyed voice on Monday is a part of what made the last week so unbearable.  Knowing that he is alone in this and that there is nothing I can do to help has weighed on my heart all week.  Our third gets frustrated with me that I allow other people’s problems to affect me so much.  But I can’t help it, there’s no in between with me.  I care, or I don’t.  I’ve avoided talking to our third all week because of my mood.  Historically he doesn’t handle me well when I get like this, and he’s in the same boat I am, our boy is hurting and we can’t help.

The call that woke me was the one I have been dreading.  He and I are so similar, it’s a big part of the reason we became such fast friends.  It’s also the reason I worry so very much about him.  The silence is hard in this situation, but knowing him the way I know myself, every phone call while he’s in this is a sign of how bad it is.  It’s four in the morning where he is, and he’s driving around trying to wear himself out.  It’s one in the morning here at home, and I’m going to crawl in bed and try to sleep until Monday.  I have no one who can, or should have to, handle me when I’m like this.

This week continues to suck ass.  I can’t remember a week this bad since last December when I had to lock myself in my house for five straight days.  Alas, I don’t have time to do things like that without offending just about every person I know.  Which I’m learning will not be that difficult because the people hate me.  Seriously, they hate me and aren’t being very shy about it.  Been a long time since I had to deal with that, and it’s foreign.  Women… they are teh suck.  Of course boys aren’t all sunshine these days either so I guess I’m left with the cats.  Hey, I walk like an old lady, I might as well get more cats and complete my spinster transformation.  I wish I had a lawn so I could look forward to yelling at anyone who dared get on it.

My back hurts, I can barely move my neck, I’ve had a splitting headache for two days, I still have a fucking sore knee from the fall, and (boys, look away!) I’m having some very annoying plumbing issues (told you so!).  I want to take a handful* of multi-colored pills and sleep until Monday.  I want to forget that I’m lost and alone, that I’m broke and broken, that I can’t seem to get anything to work and I don’t even feel like trying.  I want to block out that I don’t understand you, you don’t understand me, you are making horrible decisions, and that you are in pain through no fault of your own.  You both gang up on me, you are avoiding me, I don’t even know what to do with you, and you are just freaking me out.  Did I leave someone out?  Sorry.

So, if you couldn’t tell, I’m a huge crab ass right now.  You really don’t want to deal with me.  Instead I leave you with my all time, forever and ever, favorite Jon Stewart moment.  You cannot beat this clip, and even from my perch in IHateEverythingville it makes me snort.

The math at the end is literally my favorite thing in the world right now.

*Simmer down, I really do only mean sleep.  I’m not hinting at something sinister.  I’ll be back to normal when everything stops fucking sucking.

I’ve been driving a lot lately, and not for pleasure.  Getting here and there I have passed just about every place that holds old memories.

Someone I love enough to take all his problems on to myself so he can be happy is hurting, and I can’t fix it.  I can’t even make him feel better.

I am not happy at work.  There isn’t much I can do about it.  And no one will just listen to me without offering asinine solutions.

The first thing that happened to me Monday morning?  I had to lay on a heating pad for almost an hour to be able to get up.  The second?  Tatum threw up on me.

I’ve been looking forward to today for two months, and when it arrived I couldn’t get excited.

I just had to warn my household that we may be finding carcass in the morning.

I don’t have any free time until Sunday.  I am sleepy and overscheduled.

I am poor.  My camera is broken, I need new shoes, I’m behind on my savings plan.  I am broke.

So, this week is going great.  I wouldn’t be surprised at all if I woke up face to face with The Carcass on my pillow.

I am mildly bummed out, but I know it will pass.  I don’t know when I learned that I have the ability to just get through it, and laugh in the process, but I’m glad I believe in the light at the end of the tunnel.

Most Random IM conversation:
Between John and I where we used the word hump eight times in twenty minutes.  I don’t think I have to tell you none of it is fit to print.

Laugh of the Month:  A friend made this from a picture she took off my myspace page.  It was such a surprise, and so damn funny, I almost woke up the house with my laughing.

Best text messages received:
Won’t hit u on the ass with y door.  I’m not that type of whore.
I’m house sitting and the cat ate your mexico present.
So I have concluded a whole bottle of irish whisky will make u forget everything that bothers you.
That’s cause u got the name
:p I am simmered down
So I know y I have been all emo lately.  The stupid full moon
Me and Mike played a game, pick out each others clothes.  I lost.  I look like I was dressed by a blind, handicapped hooker

Strangest text messages I sent:
I see you.
I am too honey.  And I rarely admit that to myself.
Tonight was the first night in five years that YOU didn’t understand me.  If you don’t understand me no one ever will.
Pickle?  You are sooo on the list.  Ew.
I’m in a room with three strangers while my oil gets changed.  Three of us are making fun of the commercial to start your own alpacka farm.  The other one is reading her book aloud to herself.  This is a new hell.

Number of completely intoxicated “Why didn’t you take my phone away?” texts:
67.  Wow.

Do anything this month I’d never done before?  The women in our family spent a weekend morning getting pedicures.  It was awesome.

Strangest Email Exchange:  I sent myself the following email.

Exploding orgasms.

And I got an email for mutant dicks.

Well that’s exactly what I look for in a dick, that it be mutant in some way.

It took me a few minutes to get over the shock* and remember that it was from a phone conversation Lindsey and I had about the junk mail she’d received that day.  I had taken notes as we spoke because I intended to write about it someday.  I was very relieved when I realized that was why I had a dirty email from myself, and that it was not a perverted split personality taking over my email account.

*I should apologize to our mothers for their shock at having to know that their daughters had this conversation. 

Proud of:  Myself.  Not only did I quit caffeine, but I cut out over half of the cigarettes I smoke a day.  Even when a coworker dropped these off at my desk because he quit I locked them in a drawer until I could give them away.  (Okay, I tried a few but they are not my brand and tasted like dust.)

If I keep saying things like this someone will have me committed:
People should be forced to wear a sign that states their malfunction so that we can avoid the ones we don’t want to deal with. -  I said this to John last year, I’m surprised he hasn’t made my sign already.

Come Back that actually made someone laugh:
Until I start beating the children or sitting on the front porch in my underwear we won’t be as bad as them. - To my neighbor when he tried to compare our house to our new neighbors who are complete white trash.

Good Stuff:  Me and Emily saw two movies this month, Cars and The Lake House.  I hadn’t been to a movie in months!

Crappy Stuff:  Have I mentioned before that caffeine and I don’t get along?  At all?  I thought maybe my body was over it’s caffeine hatred and started having a soda now and then a few months ago.  The migraines and crankiness soon followed, so I cut out all caffeine, even chocolate.  So it was quite a shock to my system when some girl (who doesn’t quite like me, by the way) gave me a shot with Red Bull in it without telling me.  What followed was a pretty intense level of intoxication, especially considering I’d only had a few drinks.  Combine a wet dance floor and me drunk with flip flops on and what you get is a total wipe out.  We’re talking face down on the dance floor.  It’s a good thing I don’t get embarrassed.  I immediately stopped drinking and just tried to sober up.  That apparently failed since the first thing I did when I got home was fall off the wall in my front yard and scrape half the skin off my leg.  So, does anyone doubt that caffeine and I do not get along, or do we need to pull out pictures of the injuries and the fact that two weeks later I still have a limp?

I don’t remember doing this (Also, it appears caffeine makes me black out, lovely!) but it’s good to know I’m a lover when I’m super intoxicated.

Birthdays?  Kevin, and we celebrated exactly like he wanted with many, many sake bombers.

Brigette

Weirdest night:  Jenika, Mike and I spent hours lying in their bed watching movies while she recovered from surgery, and no, that’s not the weird part.  We plowed through two romantic comedies (Rumor Has It and Say Anything) and started in on the third, one that a student Mike had worked with recommended, Suicide Club.  It was in Japanese and I missed most of the subtitles because I had my hands over my face while I screamed in horror.  We never thought the title of the movie was actually going to be the plot line, but 50 school children jumping in front of a train in the first scene made it clear we were wrong.  So very wrong.  If all three of us hadn’t been intoxicated and in complete shock we should have turned it off and buried that DVD in a fire proof box, six feet deep, in a field many miles from here to contain it’s evil.

Favorite Random Picture:  This is the ultimate in random pictures.  Since I have been unable to take any pictures that aren’t complete crap I’ve just been handing off my camera to people to do the work for me.  This is courtesy of my five year old neighbor, Noah.

Money News:  My spending on cigarettes, liquor, and dining out all decreased.  This is excellent news because those are pretty much the only things I spend my “fun” money on.

Gratuitous Kid Pics:  Look who holds his own bottle now.  He also pulls himself up, walks along the edge of the couch and coffee table, and laughs at Zach.

This one can practically run now, loves to play on the spa steps, and wants me to pick her up whenever she gets home.

And the oldest runs, climbs, cuddles and talks all the time.  He’s asking questions constantly, and answering every question you ask him with “I don’t know.”

Last year:  A year ago was my first experience with combining liquor and caffeine.  Lindsey, Jeffy and I all chugged some Rum and Cokes before a set.  At a show that my ex-boyfriend who was in town visiting attended.  My ex who had only seen me drunk once before, and who is a complete non-drinker.  All I remember is many, many people coming over to whisper “You are in so much trouble” in my ear.

Two years ago:  On June 11th Kevin, Mom and Sarah flew into D.C. to have a mini-vacation and then to drag me back to Phoenix.  That was the start of a very chaotic eleven day road trip, not to mention an entirely new life, for me.

Any mileposts?  I can’t actually tell the story behind this one, except that it was a year and a half coming.

Obsessions:  I think we can call my playlists evidence of my obsessive nature.  Do you realize that I have listened to my two favorite AVA/TBS songs over two hundred times each?

Looking forward to:  Angels and Airwaves/Taking Back Sunday concert.  Did you actually expect a different answer?

Music:  I’ve only let two new songs creep in.  Tyler Hilton’s cover of “Missing You” doesn’t technically beat Tina’s version, but I just don’t like listening to female singers.  So it’s surprising that the female backing vocals on the Sufjan Stevens song “For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti” are a big reason of why I love it.  Hey, I never said I made sense.

Song Lyric of the Month:
I hear your name in certain circles
And it always makes me smile
Missing You

Best Show:  Hands down the Digital Summer show at the Marquee Theatre.  I’ve never been more proud of him.

Not looking forward to:  The heat.

Hair Watch 2006 Status:  I need a trim desperately.  But I know that if I go in alone I’ll have it all shaved off.  I actually inhaled a chunk of my hair one night, and fishing it out of my throat was the best evidence for short boy cuts I’ve seen yet.

Graph:  To be honest the original intent of keeping track of my drinks was to show some people (Hi Mom!) that I don’t drink too much.  Unfortunately June was the worst month to try and prove this point.  We celebrated a lot in June, and with that came celebratory drinks.  I won’t be revealing the actual values that I pulled this graph from.  Maybe in August I’ll try again.

Click through to flickr if it’s too tiny to read.  I don’t work magic here.

Things That Must Get Accomplished This Weekend
* Month in review post for June.  I know!
* Fill out paperwork to get camera fixed
* Find paperwork
* Sleep
* Take loaner dog for one more walk

Things I Want To Write About Soon
* The falls.  Yes, more then one fall.
* Flagstaff Trip
* My ability to completely warp my own train of thought.
* Circus Side Show
* Picture based story once a week.

Nicknames I Still Use In My Head
* Rampant Pervert
* C.C.
* The Soul Sucker
* I.B.
* Reggie

Things We Will Probably Shout At The Bar Tomorrow
* “Oh yeah!”  “Oh no!  Look what you’ve done to this beautiful home!”
* Peanuts
* Citrus Fruit
* Circus Side Show!!!
* Shit (Only because it remains my most frequently used curse word.)

Luxuries I Desperately Need, But Am Too Poor To Swing
* Pilates Instructor
* My own dog, even though loaner dogs are wonderful.
* A private jet.  (I would be in North Dakota right now, just because I could.)
* An On-Call doctor.  Seriously, so much is broken right now.
* Grocery Delivery Service.  (I can barely afford groceries.)

Credit where credit is due, check out these lists.

My best friend’s birthdays always promise to be interesting.  Three years ago I picked up a moving truck on this day to get the hell out of here.  Away from this city and away from him.  It wasn’t hard, we’d given up on each other already.  No love lost because I decided to move away, physical distance was the least of our problems.

But, two years ago I was back, and suddenly, so were we.  It was like the three years we had spent hating each other melted away.  We’d both grown up, made the decision to let what happened to our friendship go.  That year he turned 25, proving us to be too old to hold on to the grudge.  What better way to celebrate then wrestling?

Then another year passed, all smooth sailing, and we celebrated his birth even harder.  And yes, it is possible to celebrate harder then mud wrestling.  His 26th was three straight days of bars, movies, shows, swimming and late night talks.  I could barely move by the end of it.

This year is a little different, as the boy is off celebrating in Hawaii.  Without me.  Ass.  No worries, we fit in the party before he left.  It’s also different because we hit a bump in the road this year, a bump we couldn’t ignore as it involved a screaming match outside a restaurant and me pinning him against the building.

The biggest difference is the way we handled this fight.  Our turn around time is vastly improved now, we were on our way to being okay before he even walked away from me that night.  Every year on his birthday I can look back and see how much we’ve grown.  Every year on his birthday I can look back and see how much he has taught me.

He sounds happy in Hawaii, he needed this vacation.  He sounded positively giddy when I freaked out because he wouldn’t tell me what he bought me.  I don’t like surprises or anticipation, I want to know what it is now.  But in some way I trust him, he knows me well enough to pick something, even if all I wanted was a postcard.  He wouldn’t put me through the anticipation if the feeling wasn’t worth something.

Some how in the last ten years he has managed to teach me faith, and I would have never believed it possible.  From screaming matches in high school about faith being bullshit to breaking his heart when I told him I didn’t trust him, we’ve ended up here, a place where I know that even if we duke it out he’s going to be there the next day.

I don’t think I could do this without you, and this year on your birthday I believe that I’ll never have to try.  Love ya, Happy Birthday!

I could write for another hour.  I could have been writing the last four hours.  The process starts in my head, and my head has been cranking out the tidbits all day.  Seeing your eyes for the first time, closing the door completely, trying to open the window, surprises.  I could do this, I could.

But I won’t.  Not yet.  I can turn the faucet on, but I’m not ready to think about things yet.  Actually, that’s incorrect.  I’m content to think about them the way they are, in my head alone.  Once I start processing them, making them digestible, that’s when it all gets away from me.  I hate not being in control.  I’m worried I won’t be able to turn the faucet off.  I’m scared I won’t ever take that risk. 

I’ve been trying to make believe that I am still on vacation since I got back Sunday night. Working Monday was only a small bump in the road, as I had Tuesday off. Maybe I wouldn’t normally spend my vacation scrubbing my house, but it felt good to get it done. Then we hit Wednesday and it’s like a regular work week.

I can’t trick myself any more. I’m tired and want it to be Friday already. I’m behind, and my whole weekend is going to be spent catching up. With people I haven’t seen in ages, with my bills, with sleep, and yes, with the website. Pictures are nearly caught up. They’ll stay caught up as the camera, well, she is broken. I know, I get sick just thinking about it. I have many posts half written, and I mean actually typed out half done. I have several other subjects I must cover to make myself happy. And yes, there is the month in review for June. I know, girls, I know. Ideas are floating around for it, but month in review posts take me hours, I have to actually research since the memory is not so good.

I haven’t been able to sit down and do it though, I just keep hanging on to the “I’m on vacation” mindset, and I don’t want to go back to work yet. I do view this as a type of work, and it’s a good thing I’m my own boss, otherwise my ass would be fired.  Just keep in mind that I was on the losing end of a fight with my arch enemy, Caffeine, last weekend and have been hobbling around for days.  I don’t know how I’m trying to justify that injuries* to my legs keeping me from writing, but just take pity on my broken body and give me a few extra days, huh?

*Hey, I mashed together a picture of the injuries.  Don’t look at the picture if you’re all squeamish and weird about bruises/scrapes.  I’m not big on peeping other people’s injuries, but for some reason when it’s my body turning 18 different shades of green and blue I am transfixed.  Unfortunately I could only photograph my knee bruises and the scrapes on my foot, calf and upper thigh.  I would have loved** to document the elbow bruises, but really?  How do you take a picture of your own elbow? 

**I’m totally aware how insane it is to be so interested in my own bruising, but maybe this will serve as a fierce reminder that caffeine is a fickle, bitter bitch.  Besides, my knees are more colors right now then my hair has ever been, and that’s saying something.