Sunday, October 28, 2007
7 killed in N.C. beach house fire - Anyone I know? (I'll never know since I didn't even get invited! I hear about people still going to beach houses, in North Carolina, in October no less, but again, I don't get invited.:) Who burns to death on the East Coast?
This one came off of MSN as well to get you on the Slate page - who I hate to give any advertisement to:
Lie to Your Children—It's Good for Them The terribly wrong message sent by Jessica Seinfeld and Missy Chase Lapine.
If a mother can't 'lie' to her children to get a little nutritious food down their spoiled throats then what has this world come to? America please listen and repeat to yourself Endlessly: You are in charge of your children, Not the other way around (And neither is the 'terribly' over-rated Slate, either, Thank God). If they won't eat their carrots when You Instructed Them to, then they deserve to have it snuck in with their orange juice. Repeat.
Thank God there are Moms addressing the problem, making all the other Moms feel better about the whole thing AND who know how to use their blender. Amen.
I refuse to see what drivel they have written about this and I'm going to have to partially categorize this post under hopeless_b_tches without even looking at it for all the women who have nothing better than get nasty with each other, the author, blenders in general, and the carrot industry.
You people ruined your chances of getting a decent review about any of your shit concerning anything 'motherhood' (which I do give careful, giving evaluations to the side of true motherhood) ever again with the Slummy Mummy disaster. I can't take the hatred.
Why don't they appoint a lawyer for every kid issued a Social Security card so they can sue before they even know how to yawn? It'll help with the lawyer surplus as well. (I thought that up, and I dedicate it to Mark, my favorite Idiot.) Put something new up on your blog, Mark. That goes for all of ya's.
Friday, October 26, 2007
"Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" Opens: Dec. 21 Why: Combine Stephen Sondheim's Tony Award-winning musical of a revenge-seeking barber, Tim Burton's distinctive vision, the charisma of Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen, and you're up for one hell of a bloody (literally) ride. Biggest Misconception: It's not a musical. Judging from the trailer, you would never guess it's a musical, but it is, and those stars will sing. Standout Performance: Johnny Depp is said to channel David Bowie in a rock-star interpretation of the demon barber role. Place your Golden Globes bets now, because he will definitely earn a nomination.
Post 391. 9 away from my 400th! Feel free to bake a cake and eat it! I only request that it have chocolate frosting. --Resume--
Even though I HATE to admit it, my mental health goes hand in hand with being physically sick, as well. The more I fight this reality, the more tired it makes me. The more tired I am, the harder it is to fight mania/rage and this week's bitter damn lows (where dooo they come from?). I don't believe in flu shots (ask, if you want to) but aspirin popped like candy is working much better that thought. Well, anyway, you're all up to speed on my health (did I mention I still sound hoarse, and I swallow snot at night? As for number 2, I'm glad I've a toilet near the computer. Yeah. You needed to know.:)
Alrighty then. Bring on the responsola. I think I'm spent, so this will have to do for a while. Oh, and Mage? Thank you for professing thy love for me. Right back at 'cha. About your blog - you could always make a new one, and you sure know how to operate Blogger.:)
The response from me:
It's okay, Mage. Your first comment gave me my first LOL moment all day, and possibly all week!
I know the Ono-meister is creeping up in age, like in her 70's! if I'm not incorrect on that. I think she has tried, thru the years to use some John Lennon things that she is willing to share with us - for instance, his quickly cartooned self-portrait released onto baby clothing, no less.
I bet you didn't know that Mr. Lennon was enrolled in art school, early-pre-Beatles when he was secretly married to Cynthia Lennon, his first wife and mother to John's first son, Julian (named after J.L.'s mother who was run over by a taxi in front of John's 8-9 year old eyes. Her name was Julia, and he wrote a song for her - check 'The White Album':). For some reason, John was also merciless about the physically impaired, making open fun of 'cripples' and drawing less than nice doodles of them.
He must have got over this sort of thing at some point, as eventually he was known for inviting the homeless, even mentally ill, on his property. I think many people think about this, how sad it was that partly because of compassion (at least that's how they've been saying it in biographies) he probably allowed 'nutcases/the sick' much closer access to his person than most people ever would, opening him up for assasination.
Why, I know you're asking, do you KNOW all that? Because I read one of his biographies, a good 5 inch tome, in my early teens, when it mattered, with voracious interest. I think perhaps these generations might read about Kurt Colbain in a similar way (which of course, I wouldn't mind doing myself. I would think there is plenty still unsaid, plenty to protect, as of yet, if I were to guess.)
And did you knnnnow (as a little aside) - Mr. Colbain is number one in raking in the moulah of the top ten famous rock & roll dead?! More than Jimmy Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, and yes - Elvis! Search on MSN & you will find! And you thought Courtney Love was stupid. Hardly. If there's one thing that woman loves more than her heroin, is Kurt's heir, France Bean, and she's not f- that up.
Also, you can be guaranteed that there will always be someone 'close' to Yoko that agrees with your assessment, Mage. Julian Lennon is BIT-ter that Yoko will only allow him to have 3% of Lennon's royalties. While that still is no small sum of money, I assume, I'm sure he's madder than a hornet. Unfortunately, I think Dad & son were still feuding at the time of John's demise, and unless she's made changes since, she certainly was acting on the 'love' at the time.
Your personal J.L. tome,
I AM spent. I'm going to pop aspirin and lay in bed. I'll see you all soon. Every body hang in there.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Craazy for feeling so lonely
Craaazy for feeling so blue
You'd love me as long as you wanted
And then someday
You'd leave me for somebody new
Why do I let myself worry
What in the world did I do?
Please don't expect more
Ya'll lucky ya got that outta me. I AM SICK.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
And I just want to say that I am PROUD of myself for my letter to Yoko Ono, when I made the probable mistake of alluding to my non-perfect mental health status, especially when she has dedicated the last 30+ years of her life keeping her late husband's killer in a mental ward. I guess I'm feelin' it when I didn't get a signed Yoko Ono photo. I'm not sure she even 'does' that.
And I AM proud of the letter I sent to Ozzy Osbourne, Prince of Darkness, telling him that, when he dies, I won't be thinking of him as the guy that bit the head off a bat, oh no, I will think of him as a champion (and incredibly sneaky) for keeping his bipolar such a secret and living through all of it. I suggested a remake of 'We are the Champions' which should be a Bipolar Anthem. My admitted mistake, I said if I was wrong about him being bipolar, he could throw my letter away. And I didn't ASK for a picture, but I think if he doesn't have mean-spirited/Satanic youth answering his mail, I might just have a chance on my next letter.
I am PROUD that I truly wasted my time writing ANYthing to some alpaca farm in Cana-Di-Ah and asked them questions about their Kommodore (sheep dog w/ dread locks) and their thoughts on why that kind of dog. Apparently they don't have thoughts. I do. Their blog was very incomplete and shared same info back and forth and they had an email address posted, which was very curious - because they either don't read, don't English, don't write or don't write English. Tak your pick, because they were Incommuncado, and I'm not talking Catholic sacrament.
No response-vous on my letter to Judith Warner, NYT's columnist. Welcomed to comment, I guess I could print what I wrote to her, perhaps eventually. I thought my work sent to her was definitely some of my most lucid, probably bottom-kissing stuff ever, and we all know how very unused to producing/sending that sort of thing, am I.
I don't know how it came to me actually, but I was quite sincere at the time and did feel that my effort was worth it, especially if she could take similar joy in finding that someone not only wrote on the same topic, without being forced to, but came to the same, very altruistic/loving conclusions.
Would it be so bad for a person of her 'caliber' to 'lower' herself to say 'Hi, hello good for YOOOOOOOOUUUU' (I feel a 'Will & Grace' moment coming and I am not gay. Must be a New York thing.)? So think 'Jack' from the show and say, "YeAY, I'm a LITtle bitter." As far as printing that letter online, I'm waiting, hovering and then I might print it. But I'll give it some weird name so high school and college kids can't easily google it for their bottom-kissing activities.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Mr. Simmon's is the sweetest of fairies (a lovely, delicate gay man) that gives hope to fat chicks everywhere (yup, that includes me). He's lost a lot of weight, he did it a long time ago and Mr. Simmons has kept off. He's proud of it and if he's not afraid for the world to see what looks like on a no-cellulite thigh day, then who the hell are you to pick on him? I'm thinking when it's all said and done, Dave, you probably wear something like this to bed.:)
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
I wanted to know why she was smirking!
It's because she thought it so interesting, but I am thinking it's because it just might make her day when she gets a patient smart enough to refer to themself in a way that she's read about in a textbook, or whatever version of the DSM we're on. Regardless though, I got some comfort out of her as she said,
"Well, you don't seem to be too unhappy about it."
Which is pretty true. Just like so many things, I wonder how 'normal' I am. She agreed with Husband that I have been hurt, and very sorely, by 'friends.' So are we all just going to give me that, as usual, my fortitude is an acceptable reason to not only continue living and my occasional consideration of even flourishing despite the fact that I sometimes think I should be 'doing' something to cultivate a friend?
I'm really not into that because when all my face friends have been the ones to be 'too sick for a dinner together,' and that was a year or so ago; or the typical 'I work and have two daughters' - well I don't touch that one with a ten foot pole; one who knew me 15+ years, was in my wedding, got a boyfriend, and then dropped me without so much as a single chicken-shit reason; or the one I knew for 12 years that just took to telling everything I said to him to 6 other people I didn't know, like I was a form of entertainment; to the recent 'mental mama' I met in the hidey-hole who, amongst other things, just plain didn't call, even though she swore she was gonna? I'm still not over how rude that is (and no Raine, if she forgot the first or second night, what is the deal a month and a half later?).
One thing significant: these were all things done to me. I don't think I could live with myself if I actually did any one of these things to somebody else. Strangely, I find myself the recipient of these single, aggregious acts, having to deal with them individually, as a shocking pile-up. I am starting to wonder if there's a big neon sign pointing down at me, "Please shit here."
The natural thing is to say no more, as if daily chances for close friendship come at all anyway. And there just may be reason for that. I don't know where these wretched masses come from, or what stone they think they are hiding under, but I know, deep inside, that I am better off without them. I won't say I'm not HURT, because I am. In some cases, nearly irreparably so, but here I am, still alive and typing.
I can only think the best revenge is living well, so sometimes I wake up before noon and think about where my 'living well' cloak went to. I really am dumb about these things, but I'm thinking that consistently sleeping too much is a form of depression. Newsflash: I am getting along fine, with my 'little' illness that wants to kill me, without being able to call Dad or anybody living that used to pretend to care. God, I am the shit. I'm glad I take my pills every day so that I can do battle. It's nice, every once in a while, to let myself feel good for being better than everyone else. And if you don't agree, I really don't give a shit.:) Because I'm not going to let you in. Frankly, it's my right.
Just like my Dad did, I like my alone time. If I want 'outside' time, I drive somewhere. This reminds me how great alone/home time is, with my fabu animals and in fact, plenty of hobbies, and my good ol' computer with cable connection.
Both therapist and I admitted I liked my 'anonymous' interaction on the web and my occasional telephone conversation with mysti :) I'm not going to the local 'day program for the mentally ill' just to have a friend. I don't think that would work out really, because every time I go over there, they freak me out by treating me like a rock star. There's no place for a mentally ill person with a B.A. degree and who's worked real jobs until she said the hell with it. So, I'll just stay at home until I get the book done, and then Oprah can do her yearly series on bipolar (as it seems she requires herself to, as she did let that vile Tom Cruise pound her couch) and promote my home-grown wit. See ya'll then.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Judith Warner wrote a very well-received book on motherhood and an article in her Friday weekly column (today) with the Times about Ms. Gotboum, frankly coming to many of the same conclusions as your good 'ol Tart.
I really had to work to try to contact her, as her comment section was already closed, that being the easiest way to speak.
So, there is no guarantee that she got my emails, but I certainly hope she did, and of course, I would just to be so honored if she lay her eyes upon this.
Now, I want to explain to Ms. Warner, and any other normies (muggles without mental illness), that my blog expresses my emotions, especially the frustration, anger and rage that I am truly sometimes overcome by, things that are not pretty because they are the opposite of light, love and happiness that I am also capable of - but I think I do a good job of showing the how and why of my feelings, how I got there.
I told her I was not perfect in my email. I have always offered up my thoughts, feeling, emotions, opinions all of it, for everyone, here on the blog. So, just like Sinead O'Connor (newly entered into the fold, just last week on Oprah), I'm not apologizing. I would be sad if things were taken wrong, and I hate to be judged unfairly. So, I guess that's about it!:)
I left the homestead today to get myself vittles at one of the local fast food rest-a-raunts. As I'm pulling up to pay, it is apparent that a teenage-to-twenty year-old is sitting on the cement in front of me and crying. Really hard. Trying to cover it with her hands, but in fact sobbing.
My first reaction? I am a creature of truth, and some even hate me for it, most adore it, so I'm not gonna tell a lie. I was like, "Oh, crap."
My main thing is that I don't work at a suicide hotline, I go to the local mental health county crap but would have to read the number out of my cellphone to someone else, not hand them a card.
In other words, I didn't feel like any kind of reference, my experience in life clearly doesn't match most (if you look at me I'm SUPPOSED to be a frazzled mother of 2-10 human children, either oozing with important things to say, or maybe not).
Also, my family instills in me that I am not the Saviour of the World, because having had some moments when I really thought that about myself (thankfully, not for too long, cause thoughts move quickly at those moments) well, they freak out if I start acting that way. It's a careful line that I don't want to cross, or give people the impression of. That is what crazy people do.:) And I've been trying to hide that for sooooo long!
I get literally torn between what a normie would (or Should do) and what is crazy. And which is right! And you normies thought YOU have it bad!!
But, what I did do is pull over in the parking spaces and mull everything from paragraphs above around in my head. I didn't want to just leave the situation, get back on the main thoroughfare, head home, and wonder about the poor dear for the rest of damn day.
I was torn, I DIDN'T WANT TO BOTHER HER, but it just looked like someone should sit down with her and ask her what was wrong. And listen. And it being me, I would be able to say in honesty, "well, I don't know everything about that, but please know that someone cares about you."
But her boyfriend drove up and all I could muster in the time allowed, as she rounded the frontof his car, was, "Honey, are you okay?" As she kept holding her stomach and looked truly physically pained and nodded yes (You know women, we're dying but we tell pure strangers that we are, "Just fine! Happy face!!)" She got into his car and collapsed on his shoulder.
I'm not sure what this 'taught' me. It seemed like a big deal, because she was out there and looking so unhappy, and fitting the parameters of 'we should comfort people' but My God, it is so hard. The truth is, I did not want to look like an idiot. I really don't know what more to say.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Daily I am challenged by a force whom I have come to call God. If I stay at home, I may be hit by something akin to a panic attack, I don't know what you call it, but it's pathetic and includes worrying, anxiety, and the complete inability to get anything useful done.
If I go out, which includes me driving my own automobile, something, I mean SOMEthing always happens, whether I am almost completely rammed into head-on by a Hispanic driver who never even indicated that he noticed my existence or that he was almost responsible for something: my death.(about a week or so ago). Or the absolute vile, hateful, unbelievably cynical and stupid drivers that populate in general in my area (we still vye for #1 Road Rage, it is an utter documentable fact.)
To tonight's unbelievableness, which should have been a nice night out with my mother at the movies. Old-timers to the blog may recollect my various beefs about the public movie viewing experience (which I can now say is so over-rated I'll be buying more and more of my DVD's and watch them at home on the new LCD, where, frankly, people can act right.) Because I can attest whole heartedly THAT PEOPLE CAN'T ACT RIGHT IN PUBLIC PLACES, INCLUDING THE GOOD OL' MOVIE THEATRE.
I'm referring to the time I went to 'Walk the Line' in a croweded theater and had four grown adults do nothing but talk and literally destroy my viewing experience. That's most memorable, besides seeing 'King Kong' in the degraded 'movie cafe' in my 'town' that means drunk person sit in front of me, talk on their cell phone, and drinks so much before the show even starts that idiot actually falls out of your seat on his fool ass. The wrath of Tart is everywhere and you better watch out. If any of this sounds like you, (if you get drunk & loud and get real proud) please kill yourself now, because I'm so tired of it, I'm going to start carrying a bat. Along with my pepper spray and stun gun, that I already own.
So tonight I go to see the 'Rock who's a football player and finds out he has a daughter' movie with the madre at a time when nary a soul is at the movies. Except of course, we sat behind a Mom and her two younger daughters. Well, the person beHIND is usually the problem, usually talking or tapping your seat, so I thought, 'Wow, how refreshing,' we're probably going to have a nice movie experience.
The movie's going along, and nothing sucks except the movie (yes, that's my official thumbs whatever, Roger Ebert) and then THE MOM STARTS PLAYING WITH HER CELL PHONE. CAUSING A BRIGHT LIGHT TO LITERALLY BEING SHINED INTO MY FACE.
I tried to actually put my hand way up blocking the light. This goes on for most of the stinking movie, and I finally realize that this bitch is not going to stop. I had to tap her shoulder (which I really was loathe to do) and say something like, "Excuse me, could you shut your cellphone? The light from it keeps getting in my eyes."
Where have we come to? Are people so common, mothers so stupid, no longer wishing to show their young daughters decorum, control, how the f--- not to be rude at the damn movies?
Because the woman put it away, and 20 f'n minutes was playing with it again. I'm serious.
For demographics, for all you wondering, she was a white plump woman, maybe in her 30's or younger, with kids (girls) with her.
People occasionally wonder why I don't have kids. Clearly because God realized I've lost my mind enough, and I for one, don't need further excuse for it. So when these people laugh (con-den-scend-ing-ly) saying I wouldn't understand, cause of this or that, couldn't it just be that they (the muthu?!) are just too stupid to understand?
When I was a kid I thought adults had it together. Yes, during the 70's adults and parents didn't do stupid things or least neeeever let on to me. So, I'm still in a bit of shock that the sad state of white trash that serves as motherhood these days are just children in fat people's bodies without a clue how to just pretend they know what the f- they're doing.
Did you really expect me to understand any kind of need that this poor woman had to play with the damn thing, make phone calls, cause she bored. Did you expect me to simply accept that just because this particular theater did not play the 'Please Turn Your CellPhones Off' statement at this particular time (I turned mine OFF in the parking lot and I am not guiding the 'minds of tomorrow'), that this person never considered the people behind her with her big ol light? And after BEING ASKED BY AN ABSOLUTE STRANGER (which most of us would be EMBarassed by), who used nothing less than what I would call an exasperated and commanding voice to stop it, just kept on doing it anyway.
No, I call that exactly what I described two paragraphs up and if you've got a problem with it please send me your address, because I want to move where you are.
To top off the evening, a veritable driving nightcap, as we waited to merge over into a busy-ass intersection (and you have no concept of busy 'til you've been to my 'town') when the jack-a__ behind me starts honking. I admit, in an inflammatory mode, I put my reverse lights on for a moment. More honking, so I start to go into the merge lane (all against my mother's best wishes) while asshole zips around me, nearly side-swiping me at the same time. (Isn't that just so mean!?) So I'm honking at him and keeping my brights on him in retribution til he moves over to the left lane to get on some other person's tail and spread joy, all of which of raises my blood pressure and make my sight grow dim - that my friend's is called road rage, and an everyday occurance, over and over, around here. All over a useless f-- that will probably die early from going everyday to the same boring, useless job that he hates, just so he can get retirement, for the last three years of his life, as he dies of coronary heart disease (turns out he didn't Really have a heart, after all) or just plain neglect.
That's whut our men die of 'round here, how 'bout yers?
I know some love watching scary stuff this time of year, some just have a penchant for dressing up or oddly.
Truth: Halloween is one of Tart's most Under-cared for 'holidays.' We've taken to leaving all the lights off and going somewhere else for the evening. No more candy, to a neighborhood I don't even recognize anymore, even our great dressing up days, they're mostly over. Yup, party-poopers on Halloween, I'll glady admit it - care not about any of it, do we.
However, I can tell that Pink loves it, and even left the pink hair at home to party on like a dead rock star. (All these pics snagged from MSN. Nothing says maybe you should be 'msn' your computer and just turn the dang thing off like MSN!:)
Anne Hathaway seems to always wear the right thing. Here she's wearing the right thing and looking downright 'glamorous' in it:
But really, all this is subterfuge for the my desire to put up this delis-cious pic of Ashton Kutcher at a 2002 Halloween party. Yummy.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
I have thought a lot about it today. I was so proud of the words her husband said of his wife. I am very heartened that he spoke frankly of her illness of alcoholism and how she was embarrassed to get help, and how wrong that was.
For people to even speak of our illnesses, mental illnesses, is such a wonderful step in the right direction, that people, it makes the Tart cry.
I would be lying if I said that I hadn't been at odds with the idea of alcoholism as an illness before, but I really should say I have been so blessed to only experience the horrible and nasty bipolar that I'm too familiar with, sans the alcohol problem, and it is not up to me to designate what someone else's horror is.
Many times I have come across the users of alcohol and drugs while in my various hospital stays, and in exactly that same place I have had anorexic roomates, all of us to go to our separate meetings and Dr. visits. We were all in the same hospital.
Well, that is all a tangent, an explanation of previous things said on the blog and an admitted retraction, as I come to understand how diabilitating bipolar is on its own, alcoholism is on its own, and the two combined together is most likely a tornado of hurt that I do not want to ever minimize for anyone.
But my thoughts about what I really feel is just a terrible situation, and bizarre ending, for this poor woman go further. It's something else her husband said. What if this situation could have been turned around, if she could have been calmed down, if just one person would have took it upon themselves to put an arm around her shoulder, or just spoke to her kindly, instead of say, taking her down like an animal, like she was screaming, "I'm ready to lob a bomb!" instead of the exact freakin' opposite!?
Would you have the courage to do that? Would I?
Would we be able to see that this lady was unstable and needed us? Would any of us, because it is obvious no one did that day, be able to get over the apparent innate belief we have that it is 'inappropriate' to get involved with another person's life? And, here's the worst question of all, but similar to the last: "Has this society gone so far in supposed individualism; a 'don't bother others, they probably won't bother me; take care of your own sh_t; it's clearly not my problem - attitude" that it is beyond us to comfort another?
I mull these thoughts in my mind, and they concern me. I know that empathy is not everyone's forte, but I just think a change must take place, if simply in the individual heart, and I'm willing to work with just mine, here.
Having been a person who HAS flipped out, and not just once in my life, I'm grateful for the small kindnesses given me, often by EMT workers, eventually nurses, and the like, not to mention my family and my bitty tight core of real friends.
I admit sometimes I am so anti-people and convinced they'd probably slit my throat when I'm not looking that I may not be one to make such a pledge as this and truly pull it off: But I don't want another one to die on my watch, you know what I'm saying? May I, just like everyone else, stop being a hypocrite for even a moment and really practice the beautiful, "Love One Another As I Have Loved You."
Additionally, and this thought Can Not have come to me first ('cause it's brilliant!), since the entire flying deal has become so stressful for Everyone, why not have sensitivity training and put special emphasis on this for a person in charge of security and do this in all of our nation's airports?
Also, I find it odd that they left this woman alone. My days working in the Men's Department of Sears taught me that Security would never leave a female suspect alone. (For some reason I got pegged as the 'female associate' to assure everything was on the up and up.) This woman at the airport only had an outburst, not completed a true criminal act, and was obviously mentally unstable - why did they leave her alone? These are all good reasons to have female staff on your security and treat everyone on the up and up.
America are you listening?!?
(additionally, not enough of you are checking out Jungetart's Good Stuff www.jungletartsgoodstuff.blogspot.com , my sister blog! Go ahead, I put some new Good stuff up! You can look:)
Monday, October 8, 2007
This is the picture today that the Western world saw in at least one of its newspapers, The New York Times. I'm sure that it will be in newspapers all over the place, because the AP wire is the considered the number one news source for newspapers big and small, all over America.
The story in NYT http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/09/world/middleeast/09iran.html?_r=1&8au&emc=au&oref=slogin
I was looking for the Web site for Amir Kabir University in Tehran, and while I don't feel that I found the The Official Website, I found some other interesting, home-made blogs like myself, in some cases dedicated to political unrest in general, or even ones specifically for concerns in Iran.
But I didn't feel comfortable naming or linking these sites to my blog, because I don't necessarily agree with some of the political thinking. But, I assure you, if you can find my blog discussing this topic, you can use a Search Engine (I'm still using my GoodSearch to send money to the well-deserving Save A Pet in New York!) and find video, commentaries by those in Iran, as well folks here in the U.S. who are seriously interested in these and many other pro-democracy topics.
What I most wanted to post and say is that it has always been clear to me that it is the students who literally put forth their lives and are truly the most ardent, hardest workers towards Democracy and change in their countries.
You'd think it was the old men, or maybe some middle class movement that wanted change. But we see time and again (Myanmar's student protest in 1988 - crushed cruelly by its present government, China's memorable student protest in 1989 - will you ever forget the student standing in front of a tank?) that it's the students that even attempt the incredible.
May the Iranian students know that there are Americans thinking of them, may they know that we salute your courage. Know that we pray, and worry, for your safety.:)
Sunday, October 7, 2007
It's funny because I have gone so long without expressing blatant happiness on the blog, which is what I use that one for anyway. I'm not over the things that cause me hurt, infuriation, sadness - I'm still a bipolar! And I hear I'll be one until my last breath.
I guess I'm not going to pursue the medical record thing anymore, not only because the Mage gave good advice (TY, Mage:) but my Mom actually had smart things to say about it, namely its not in my best interest to get sick over this (being nothing but frustrated with these people is not good for my mental health) and Dad certainly wouldn't want me to do that. So I guess I'm calling off the dogs. But they keep barking in the backyard, and everyone says, 'Just let them go!' I hope a nice shelter will pick up my anger issues and find them a new home.
So you see, true to form I b-ytced on the correct blog and place happiness upon the other. You don't want to miss that! J.'s Good Stuff is back in business!:)
Thursday, October 4, 2007
I haven't had to deal with something real-a-roni in a long time, maybe since I worked. It feels worse than when my Dad died, and has everything to do that overwhelming blip of Hell in my life.
I'm trying to get my Dad's medical record from his long-time doctor, in the tiny town that he lived in.
I talked to these folks last Friday and everything was going peachy-keen, as in I was going to pay for the copies and have them mailed, and then it just all went down the drain.
Basically, I started asking the medical questions that were burning on my family's mind, because I was asked if I had questions. BIG, BIG MISTAKE, because there's no way they couldn't take what I was saying to them as anything but inflammatory. I think they only reason they asked the questions they did was to try determine if I was planning to sue them. All further niceties went out the window. Gone-o.
Then it was, you speak to the lawyer (in same dinky town) that got me the piece of paper that good enough to prove who I was for the Postal Service (aka U.S. Gov't) when I just wanted Dad's mail and have it routed to my house, because the Doc office didn't think that paper was good enough for them. Even though they didn't know what that paper said and their fax machine mysteriously didn't work when I tried to fax el papier.
So now, I've been calling the lawyer's office All This Week, asking to speak to my lawyer that knows me, knew my Dad and was really kind to me while I had to take care of things earlier this year. She would be such breath of fresh air, if she's still kind, because everyone I have spoke to there have been horrible, truly mean creatures. And I so don't need that.
Not once have I been able to speak to her. I have, however, been able to speak to her vile, snoopy, nasty little minions who take my information and have the nerve to get involved, tell me its going to have to go to probate (and cost $500-1,000) to prove what my little piece of paper has already proven - that I am Dad's only daughter, sole heir, and recipient of his estate.
As if I'm going to stop calling and asking for the actual LAWYER, or listen to them. She had made that paper for me in hopes we wouldn't have to go to probate and it worked. It's like being in a crazy dream, or The Wizard of Oz, putting up with nut cases waiting to get to the wizard, or in this case, the lawyer that will hopefully work WITH me, not Against me.
Not once have these bitches (and I really mean it this time) said, 'I'm sorry for your loss,' or 'This must be difficult for you' and treated me like a human being. Quite the extreme opposite. I never saw people try to cover the asses of somebody else so hard. I have been told by several important people in my life 'Let It Go.'
That is REALLY HARD FOR ME TO DO.
As a bipolar. Ha! You better forget it.
As a daughter. I know my Dad would have gone to the ends of the Earth for me. You think a silly bitch who has nothing better to do than work the emery board could really deter me?
As a human being. They are just pissing me off now. Such a mistake, because it just makes me want to burn them a new one just for torturing me like this, and thinking they can get away with this. The gall.
I'm trying to imagine what 'let it go' would feel like. It just seems like giving in and letting Evil win. It's so hard to lay back and let it happen.
I should not have to pay hundreds of dollars to get what is rightfully mine. And it is rightfully and legally mine because I'm 'the deceased person's beneficiary' and have already proven it. They're trying to treat me like trash dirt, and have the nerve to think I'm going to accept any blah-blah coming from a minion. It just feels so personal, this being treated like shit, so you know it's so hard to not think how they should be paid for it.
My gift is writing. I have thought that if I can't afford to buy the hole to burn these assholes with, I can do other things.
Like print the name of the vile little town. These bumpkins may not understand the the power of Google/The Search Engine, but the rest of us do. I can make sure it's alway at the top.
I can write a letter. Namely, one to the Editor. I think people in the sleepy little town would be upset to find out what someone from mine thinks o' them. Or how much people in other states love their 'hospitality.' Oh, yes, I'm sure they would.
Still don't feel better. I'm like the living, walking Pissed. It takes everything within me not to tell these people off on the phone. When I get off the phone, I look to the sky and say 'I know I'm better than these people, Lord. I can't imagine being so cruel to someone with my issue. Please make it clear to these people Lord, that I am better than them. Because I am too busy keeping myself quiet, and not screaming.'
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
And I am feeling pretty poo-ty. I thought it was just me, some weird constant and abiding sickness because of the phentermine (now a 12 pound loss). But it turns out that other members of the family are experiencing hot & cold spells and plenty o' diarrhea. Today, laying down is the thing that feels best and somehow standing up near straight makes me want to barf. Watching T.V. shows like THS (True Hollywood Story) ABOUT 'Home Improvement' and their exciting 8-year run, is a clear example of my need for bland entertainment, like bland soup & crackers. Who but the truly sick subject themselves to that?:)
Tonight is bowling night, and I'd hate to miss it because I feel like throwing up. I may need earplugs for real because if the people around keep on getting sloshed just to throw a ball (read: Pathetic) I may be forced to let them know how much I hate them. I've done that once.
Then this year I was nice enough to the told-off person and she ended up speaking to me (this often happens when I let the nice part of me out, always a mistake) and I had to hear how I am moody - as if I did NOT know - and that was so weird when I told her off. I said I was proud of myself for standing up for me and that she really was annoying, and continually, and needed to be told (for my sake).
Why can't normies get it - Don't be an asshole if you can't take the heat for it? The really odd part is that I'm always the ONLY one to seem to be affected, the ONLY pissed off person so then I start to wonder - am I wrong?? Of course the answer is, No, the whole world is wrong - and that makes sense to me, as a person whose illness makes up .05 or 1% of the population. It's always been me against the assholes, and sometimes other normies even tag along, as long as long as I have the balls to do it first!
Speaking of needing earplugs, only for my hearings safety - because the Van Halen concert was Great! I wasn't kidding when I said I was going. I know it sounds cheesy, but it was utterly unbelievable to be in the same room with Eddie Van Halen - and the other guys put on a good show too!:) Roth sounded great and it was flat out cute that Wolfie, Eddie/Valerie Berntinelli's son was right there on bass. For any of you that play 'Guitar Hero,' he looks just like the character 'Axel' complete with the broad shoulders. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, you clearly need to get a life! That game continues to be one of my reasons to live.
So, I know that David Lee Roth saw me, because there I was, at the top of the nose-bleeds in an orange t-shirt with a parrot made of sequins on it. I danced the whole time (why, WHY go to a Van Halen concert only to sit there and act like a big dud???), waved my hands, gave two big 'love symbols,' especially when the light was shined on us and clapped up in the air to everything (because, you know, I have white-girl rhythm and clapping manically is nothing for me). I couldn't be missed and I know he waved at me. :)
Getting sweaty and acting like a loon in this way is probably the most exercise I've had in 6 months (well, publically at least:) and is the only legal high the state affords me. Again, why light up the same dubage (doobage? I don't have to know how to spell that) that you usually do in the car or basement when you've got Van Halen in front of you?? ?? Doesn't white trash have SOME limitations? Oh now, and we were getting along so well up this point.:) I'm kidding. I know you'd wait to get home to have your doobage. LOL I can't help being a bitch. I am so sick, didn't you read about that above?
Have a fabu day, won't you?:)