Party in PsychoTown

Enigma has suggested a blog party and since I have insisted on throwing one for myself at work, there is utterly no reason why we can't have one here!!!! I love SoBe and I'm a pig for tortilla chips and nacho cheese (the kind you nuke in a glass jar). The tortilla chips are a ruse: I could in fact swill the entire contents of the cheese by itself. Mmmm..love cheese. Somehow I am not surprised that Mysti is a former pastry chef. I would like something deliciously moist, like my wedding cake was (that was gooood. When they asked if I wanted ribbons of marroon in it I thought they meant some flavor thing. Noooo, it was real ribbons! Which I thought strange but I appreciated their truthfulness!)I trust your judgement so flavor is entirely up to you.

Bless you all for bringing me to my senses. Actually, having only two days of work left and having, like I said, informed them where my good-bye party will be, I feel not-so-strangely vindicated and freeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!! I am starting to feel the true 'Tart' return. It is that strange feeling when your blinders are ripped off and you can actually see again and gosh its so awful purty out, the trees and all (channelling Gomer Pyle, here) just a bustin' out in colors that I am starting to feel like free lil' butterfly flitting a-round.

I was feeling rotten yesterday. And I guess I made my one reality friend feel bad when I told him so, because I had hung out with him to try to feel better, but nothing could take away how I was feeling. It's so funny that you can dupe even your best friends. Of course, while he has an illness its not the same as mine. So we can listen to each others personal beefs, but sadly as a non-bipolar he just don't get it.

I could have killed someone at my job who asked me over the phone, "I'm confused. Are you going to be here after Friday or not?" I just pretty much lost it, and did in fact try to explain to poor confused soul the situation, but by doing so I informed everyone around me what was going on, and my real boss was sitting two cubicles away and I felt MONSTROUSLY EMBARASSED that she heard all of it, which was partly my take on what was going on. In my mind, I wanted all that to be just that: In my mind. I did not want her to know what I was thinking, I wanted whatever was going to go down to happen without my intercession and I mean it when I felt like a true idiot that A) Dumbass had gotten me to say anything and B) that I could be such a dumbass and spill the beans.

Attention: Below is trigger stuff. I know you read this, Dad. Why don't you not right now. It's a guarantee trigger for ya.

All of this were things I didn't want to say on blog last night. But I guess what I really didn't want to say was, I thought most seriously about cutting out of here. As in, I had all my pills with me, in all honesty was originally just to take my regular dose of, when I left the house to go get my nachos bell grande from Taco Bell at the odd hour of midnight or so (did I mention I love cheese?), and the thought of taking all of them at once was the only way to just leave. As purely sad as this sounds, I believe we would not be adult humans if we didn't consider the fact...ok, I consider this about myself, I cannot pretend that this is everyone's life, because it sure as hell isn't. I am 34. I do not have children. In ten years I will be 44, most like without children. Forgive me for what I am about to say, and with all sincerity: Only retards think that dogs or cats can take the place of children. I'm just thinking its a long and lonely life, and I don't have that thing I read about moms doing, you know, well, I've got to be around for the kids. As if moms can go slit their wrists when the kids finally walk out the door but maybe they're so elated they forget to, I don't know.

I looked around me. I was parked outside of a Best Buy and A.C. Moore, with my nachos in the dark. I looked at some of the buildings in my town. I wondered what its all going to be like in 10 years. And Bipolars, you know what it feels like to just be so rottenly sad, just know that you mean nothing. And I was sooo angry. I remember now, how angry I was that God had seen fit to scourge me with this, and as far as I am concerned, left me with nothing to deal with it. If I had a firearm at that moment, I think I would have done the deed. I thought about things I wish I had done on Earth. I thought, I should go buy cigarettes because if I'm going to die...well, I'm not concerned about that cancer in 5 to 10 or years, ya know? I thought, I wonder what pot really is like, because in all honesty, I've never tried it, and you'd think it was the damn be all end of everything according to music and youts everywhere, so I did miss out on that. I was just so blase about it, not bawling, just very calculating like I was here, and then I would be gone. People die every day, friends, who better to inform you of this obviousness than a soon-to-be-defunct obituary writer? Some people live a long time. Others don't. Did the ones that lived a while and annoyed us more accrue more points? I know their families think so. Not so. You're here, and then you are not. Either you contribute something (I think in most people cases that would be a new generation) or you don't. You wish the ones that hurt others would be the ones to quietly kill themselves, but that doesn't seem to happen either. So you're left with brilliant people like me, who cannot think of a purpose for themselves. And are too darn smart for their own darn good. And honey, I will leave this wretched overcrowded, ready-to-blow up, pathetic, lying, politically dishonest, (insert something from the A & E network here) planet anyway, why do we have to stretch it out?

I think dear reader, being the brilliant university degree-holding, muchas self-help book reading youth that I was, the truth is something so stupid that it must be true: Now, that my months long search and retrieval of a special cat has been accomplished and simultaneously, the job that I went to every day for 2 years is ending, I am having that weird...well...what do you call it? Empty nest in my heart for a need of something to do? I don't know what the answer for it is. Such unrest. Its bizarre. Is this what its all about just one stupid problem to another. Have I just it on the head? The meaning of life: One stupid problem after another. (No wonder I was so good at Philosophy. It just never occurred to me it was a real major.)
How to deal with the true meaning of life:

Follow Christ or get religion (or meditate, you go, BP guy) to deal
Drink, drug and do that which kills sensibility to be in haze and not feel
or blog senselessly, until people think you are brilliant or should be shot after all

I think most of us keep living out of that 'state of inertia' thing (I know someone will correct me about the wording of that). Essentially, it states that it is easier to keep on living that to kill oneself and that is why most of us are still around.

Well, don't you just want to leave that one on a nice note? I think some of this is the expression of my anger about bipolar. We do all die, whether we rant about it or not. Whether we make a difference to others or not. I would be a bastard if I said I didn't make a difference, hell, I know I do. And that's without kids, hah! But if you don't make a difference to yourself, what's the point? And even if you know the name of the illness that is prodding you into hating yourself and wanting to die, and you take all the medicines that the 'nice' doctors tell you, and you still fall prey to its whiles, well, I ask you for the forty millionth time, where is my Nobel prize for putting up with all this???!!!!

Now, now, at the same time I'm doing just fine. It's not a disorder for nothing. It's perfectly understandable to want to kill yourself one night, and then get up the next day and look like nothing ever happened and to carry on with life. Seriously, one way one moment or evening, another the next. I am so cool. I am bipolar. It's just the coolest mental illness. One of these days it will be so 'in' and (like) college students will be trying to contact me for their (like) term papers. Pop culture will ooze with the cooolness of bipolar. Oh, wait, that was Grunge. My bad. At least is occurred in my era. Today's yout's, would they even know how cool that was? I think I'll go find my flannel shirts and wear them open over my t-shirt. It's a lifestyle. I'm telling you, it all comes back. My husband's little sister had an 80's day. She wore shoulder pads and God knows what else. It was absolutely horrible.

Oh, while we're (?) confessing things: I get these urges to just fly out somewhere. No not on my broom, to actually get a plane ticket and go bye-bye. I want to flyyyyyyying awaaayyy. I want to find that cottage in my mind and somehow have the money to live there and have many cats and pugs. Or, I could just jump into the ocean on the other coast. It's a little up in the air right now.

Have a pleasant day! :)
Psycho Sally
ooops, I mean Tart