Breakthrough!

I went to the pdoc today. I told him to look at me and not his computer, that it was very important to me that I be able to trust him. He obliged and had a real conversation with me.

It was a little difficult on my end at first because I knew there was so much to say and not a lot of time to say it (15 minute appointments, Hello!). I even said I was in a bit of a quandry because of the time crunch and I didn't want to sound like I had 'pressured speech' but what can I do?

First of all, he thought it very smart of me to up that certain medicine on my own. He says he is here to work with the patient and that I obviously did the right thing. (I guess because I'm better today?). He praised my intelligence, which was, well, nice.

We talked honestly about Abilify. There was some questioning as to why I got off it, why I had asked him to take me off it. I explained that my husband was worried about the shakes, and that he worried that they were permanent, especially because he would see the damn Abilify commercials and it said something about permanent issues. Before the pdoc could say anything, and he tried, I continued that I thought the commercial was talking about tarkive diskonesia (a supreme effort on my part to spell that!:). The pdoc confirmed that - he said that the shakes are a side effect of Abilify (and later I confirmed that anxiety is also a side effect of it!) - but they are not permanent, as is obvious because when I stopped the Abilify the shakes went away.

So upshot: we decided to put me on Abilify again.

I am much happier with this scenario than any other, although I might have been willing to go on Lithium again, yes I feel that bad.

For those of you not familiar, the whole drug thing and mental illness is such a crapshoot. The fact is, we are all different and different drugs work for different folks. That is why I am not fond of posting what I am on, or saying to someone this is what you should be on. Also, there are plenty of people that don't want to be on medications, although in my view there are plenty of people that need them regardless. I have been doing this - meaning taking medications and advocating for myself - for a long time. I know, without a doubt, that it is the wagon that I need to be on.

I know that I have the right diagnosis. The more time goes on, the more I read, the more textbook I realize I am. That is a good thing. Thank God, and I mean that with all my heart, that He saved me at a young age with my real diagnosis. I know many are not so lucky.

But what sucks, is that even with the right diagnosis and the knowledge that I should be on meds, even with taking the meds religiously and correctly according to how they are prescribed, even with complying with all outpatient activities, so to speak, the Monster still has the capacity to take me down. I am not immune, nor probably ever will be, to the effects of my bipolar. I am bipolar, or should I more correctly NAMI say it, I have bipolar.

Additionally, that some of you may find of interest, I realize that I must compartmentalize my life, in some fashion. This idea came to me when I was watching a recent documentary on the Kennedys (after Ted's death) on PBS of course (the channel full of documentaries!) and they were talking about Teddy's older brother JFK. Whatever you think about the Kennedys, it clear that JFK had a womanizing problem, even while married to Jackie. They were discussing it, with a cameo of one of the his secretaries saying that he admitted that he just couldn't help it. But what was interesting to me was that JFK certainly had to compartmentalize his life in order to have all the aspects of it, to keep some grip on it. He must have sectioned off, in his own mind, these different aspects of his life, in order to perform all his duties, be enormously in the public eye, be a husband, a father, an occasional runner with the 'Rat Pack,' and so forth, not to mention that he had Addison's (sp?) disease, and worked diligently to keep it from the public eye. He was actually quite sick, it was cortisone shots that made him look healthy for the Nixon debate.

In some way, I know I compartmentalize, because even though I discuss it ad nauseum here on the blog, that fact is I've got an illness with a massive stigma, and I don't wear it on my sleeve for the outside world. I'm sure most of us do it in some way, to keep our lives in order.

Blah, blah. The real point is I have some HOPE after seeing the pdoc that maybe things can be better, maybe Me will come back (which has been a serious concern for me). I will try to keep everyone updated on how that switch from no Abilify to 10 mgs of being on Abilify goes (people should know they can get shakes and anxiety with the stuff. I know I would have appreciated knowing!:).

Gonna go make dinner! Hope Things are going well for blog land!:)
And we're out,
:)'Tart

What has been going on with me.

I have been busy.

The things that seem to come first in my life - my animals and my mental illness - have kept me busy.

This week Blossom, the new Pug puppy, got spayed, got her nose roto-rootered (as my husband puts it) and her soft palate shaved off, I guess to stop any potential snoring and it's supposed to elongate their life because they can breathe better.

That was two trips to the Vet in one week, for drop off (and waiting a day - wanh!) and pick up.

Today I took my cat for his yearly, that was another trip to the 'other' doctor.

Yesterday was Mental Health Day. I sold my angel pins for Trillium Center for a tidy sum, at least I thought so, and manned the selling of the beaded necklaces, which we sold a few of.

The best parts of our Mental Health Day were regular mental health consumers coming up and talking at a podium and just being themselves and the comraderie of the mental health consumers in general. We know each other from different programs and I got to see some people that I haven't seen in a loooonng time. Everyone's a hugger practically, because damnit - we're sweet. People don't think twice about hugging long lost friends.

They gave out silver ribbon pins for spreading Brain disorder awareness, as mental illnesses are brain disorders. I also liked the suicide prevention button in the shape of a heart "I Love Life."

The Ebay thing, which is taking a considerable amount of time, is a learning experience. I have discovered Auctiva, the free site that will put up pictures of everything you're selling in each listing, which I just Know is super! I am getting the courage up to sell my Dad's books and everything I learn will just help that much more.

Improvement

Whew! Within a day - thank God!

Things that cheered me up after having my brain chemicals wreak havoc on me:

1. My brain chemicals let up on me just a little allowing me to think. Thanks Brain Chemicals!!

2. I performed my face regimen: I had ordered Mary Kay from a friend, so I did my cleanser, toner, and moisturizers, pulled my hair back in a pony tail (because it’s greasy and I can’t handle the thought of a shower right now, soooo sorry), put my contacts in and considered makeup – maybe after exercising which should prove to be a big picker upper later on after I digest cheer-up # 3.

3. Ordered Chinese food. I am now full, and full of hot & sour soup, which is such comfort food for me I cannot express. I don’t know how to make it, therefore I order.

4. I had good telephone calls, that cheered me up immensely and made me know that I am loved. Thank you truly from my heart for those calls. Several were made by me out to the world, but it’s the one that calls in to check on me that is truly kind.

5. I am considering scrapbooking. Nothing serious like my wedding pictures that are an ongoing thing, but a bunch of cards that I have received, like for my birthday and for my Dad’s bereavement, so I can flip through and feel the warm fuzzies. I am trying figure out the best way to deal with those acidic (the paper, not the sentiment, hee hee!) little cards. What a problem.

6. Working on that cross stitch for a Mom that is due TOMORROW (what that must be like interests me greatly, and I feel for her, I really do). Can’t wait to find out Baby’s name.

7. Working on crochet projets (yes, that’s French for project, cause crochet was originally a French word. Yup.)

8. Love up a critter. Reese kitty is always trying to warm his lovely chocolate-colored feet on me. Sometimes I take advantage of it and let him love me.:)

9. Not to mention writing this all out. That helps me mucho greatly.:)

I am just sharing some things that cheered me up, because I printed such a downer below and I did find ways to work on shaking it. It’s a process of forcefully shaking it, not hoping to shake it. Something had to be done, and it's the little things that often help me.

I’m not working on the grant stuff right now, maybe mulling it around in my head. The thing now is the letter that will open doors, that’s a little bit of pressure, but I think I have most of the info needed to do that. Anyway, this is life for now. Ups downs and all arounds.

There's no shame in shaking

In fact to have the Abilify shake, the Lithium shake, the whatever-yer-on shake, in public no less, is Not a sign of weakness.

No, in fact, for every numnut (I like it spelled that way, thank you) that you feel like looks at you funny, you are empowering someone out there to be themselves.

What is it about our society that is so hung up on appearances anyway?

You've got to learn to love and be kind to yourself and you will attract kindness in your life.

Ignore the rest. Easier said than done, for me, but I know it's true.

I know because although my Atenenol has nearly obliterated my shake, I think about people I know that still do, and some pretty empowering people too.

Now for some of you the idea of having shaking hands or being embarassed of it doesn't even enter your mind. Well, nevermind for you. But for those of you that have it, you are not alone, and you don't have to feel bad.:)

A wonderful person I look up to that started a great program around here for the mentally ill - no no one you've heard of from me before - has got the shakes big time.

And I respect her so much that I thought of how empowering it is for me that she shakes to the dickens and doesn't worry about what anyone thinks of it, and does great, organizing, empathetic things for others and it just doesn't matter.

It's not a sign of weakness, rather one of empowerment.:)

Ready to Rumble

I get so mad about the Xyprexa, Eli Lily Lies because I was on the stuff for a brief while, feeding on carbs (how dare I, as that was the only disclaimer I was given out of the mental ward – DON’T EAT PIES! I am dead serious.) getting fatter by the moment and lucking out in not growing the pathos of diabetes.

Others: not so lucky. For years of lying and covering up the truth instead of spending the billions to make sure the damn drug was safe, Lily must pay, and pay well.

Every payout needs to take a serious bite out of da bizniss. It might was as well be the Mafia, what a setup and a ream the Drug Companies truly are.

I am a youngling, that means old to some of you, and it was in my prime when the Exxon Valdez oil disaster occurred. I know some tasteless jokes on that matter, but the best is when the Exxon boat driver realizes he ‘messed up’ Alaska. Yeah, messed up something, Boat Driver.

Well, Eli Lily has been forced thru court of law, to see that they ‘messed up’ schizophrenics and bipolars in the fine state of Alaska to the tune of $15 million dolla’s. Which is so paltry, considering the billions to settle just 30,000 individual claims.

Read it: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/26/business/26cnd-zyprexa.html?_r=1&8au=&oref=slogin&emc=au&pagewanted=print

Read about the pure greed, the cover up of playing down the drug’s risks (Diabetes and cholesterol problems) to doctors, all to make sure they sold the drug.

The thing is there’s such a thing as R&D, Research & Development, for every drug. This company clearly cut corners with finishing their job. Their deceitfulness gave a life debilitating illness to so many. Diabetes kills, especially on top of the confusion of Bipolar. My God, if I got it I’d contemplate suicide with sincerity.

I’ll never know what my Dad REALLY died of, but they say it has to do with the diabetes, never mentioning his possibility to tox out, like I almost did. He took his meds religiously. We all trust massively when we pop our medications in our mouth: the doctors, their knowledge, hospitals even.

To have to wonder if the drug companies are waiting for the pennies on our eyeballs is utterly reprehensible. Eli Lily, I barf on you. And all your little (always dressed in black) VULTURE DRUG REPS, too.

Make my Lithium right you little bitches, or you will just wish you had never been born. God, don't piss off a 'Tart.

A little love for other sufferers of chronic illness

Most of us can relate to wanting to do more, more, more. I admire people who accomplish so much, myself.

I really admire people who accomplish what seems to others: small things, or usually to themselves, small things - often in the face of difficulty, perceived by others or not .

As though we weren’t fast enough. As though we don’t accomplish enough. As though we were lazy, when in fact we are either working hard, doing the things we can, or mustering the strength for the next thing in our life.

To continue to want to improve takes courage and strength to forge ahead. It is the single most admirable trait I find in a person.

It can become demeaning to our self-esteem when we don’t take the time to recognize that we are working with what we can, to not compare ourselves to others (perhaps the hardest thing of all) and to know we are where we are supposed to be.

To chronic sufferers of illness, be it physical and/or mental, I salute you, and spread the seed of love, on this day of love remembrance.

May those who need to told, be kind to yourselves, for in doing so, we will be better prepared to TAKE OVER THE WORLD.
'Tart/Brain
('Pinky & The Brain' take over the world every day. Hope you're old enough to remember.)

For Jungletart's everywhere & especially Kenya: A Leopard in an African sunset

(Webshots)

May there be an end to the unbelievable inhumanity in Kenya. I pray for it's sunset end, and a dawn to civility and an embrace of a better way to treat each other and especially women with more respect.

Citizens all over the Earth hope that you will be brought to making courageous decisions and stop the hurt. It saddens the loving heart to hear of such at r oc ities.

This pain that I hear of sounds worse than Darfur, Sudan, which is vile and very bad, as well. The citizens of your sovereign nation cry and deserve for it to stop.

The Tart has limited powers, except to inform others. Kenya is in the NYT's constantly these days for its vicious attacks on leaders, women and anyone in the streets. It's a bad situation to say the least and I felt compelled to say so. Pray for peace, work for peace.

Abilify has changed my life...

American Pit Bull Terrier (Webshots)

...in the simple fact that I can now get up in the morning.

Yes, that is a miracle.

I'm paying the price for years of non-use of say, my stomach muscles, while sleeping for the past three years thru until Oprah time each day.

I am the proverbial 'Sleeping Beauty.' Let me tell you, there's nothing beautiful about a flabby belly and non-existent back muscles. I'm just sayin.'

Now I must work like crazy to get them back. Guh-roan.

I do take naps now, and I think I have to figure the best times for them, but for the most part I'm up and Adam, feeding my animals, eating some OATMEAL myself (which for years I refused to eat. It's so healthy.) and going from there.

I've been on Abilify since mid-December 2007, they upped me from 15 mg to 20 mg's a week or so ago. I don't crave food normally, but the number on the scale is stubbornly the same. (I'm working on exercise). If you like details.

My anger is significantly lower. I'm not normal, but I don't rage like I did. Hence I type here less, since when you rage, you have so much to talk about. What a miracle less anger is!

But I don't quite say that with religious fervor because that says to me that I'm a bit of a prisoner to the ol' chemical-aroos. Ya know? Take a pill, and chill, that bothers me. I take so much stuff to get a little effect, barely noticeable and then Abilify comes along and goes and makes massive changes?

Makes you wonder how many things are merely controlled by brain chemicals in your head. If a pill can alter - who the hell's in charge here???

And when is this stuff going to stop being so 'fun?' Is the effectiveness going to peter out and I'll be at ground zero, waiting for the next wonder drug?

Am I an Eli Lilly 'drug trial in waiting?' Are they using me to judge the effectiveness so the next generation of sniveling 'give it to me's' and 'I want everything now's' get the benefit of my suffering?

Still searching for that mentor. Where's MY MENTOR???

You see, I'm still ungrateful yet insightful and haven't changed much!:) Hey, it's my life. Bipolar is not a cake walk, but sometime you get to eat a cupcake.

Spanky, Spanky You Bad Military Junket of Myanmar

Novices, Myanmar, Webshots

What kind of military junket shoots and kills the most respected and honored aspect of their own pathetic lil country: known as monks? That would be the dumb folks running Myanmar.

Now being cut off the purse strings of World Banks everywhere, they don't know how to handle their shit and have gone straight to killing their religious community. Um, thinkin' hard here, has that ever solved anyone's problems? No, you silly junket what ARE you thinking?

Everybody's watching you. I'm just ashamed of this little country that sounds like a marshmellow candy bar and has been about as interesting on the international scene, has apparently lost all its screws and makes all the sense of Britney Spears in her hey-day (once again, having kids did not make her a better person, at ALL!). Relax a little, get loose, find a way to fix your gasoline issues without killing the guys who brought it to your attention.

Or else this little bipolar is going to recommend bombing your marshmellow asses - Cook 'er down, boys! Oh, and my government listens to my drivel or at least it goes without saying that its against the law to kill me. If I shave my head and wear a piece of maroon cloth as clothing, this PROVES I'm still better than your whole sad government. You need some behavior modification, Myanmar, and fast. Or someone's gonna take your funding forever and you're gonna be really lonely! Or just burnt to a crisp.

I let my fingers do the talkin'...

Okay, I know I told you I'm not talking much anymore in post below. I'm still being 'true to my school' because talking refers to the stuff that comes out of your mouth.

I cannot be blamed for the fact my fingers do exceptional walking on the keyboard. They don't wanna stop talking. Thank God, for that's my favorite way to express anyway.

Who needs flesh people who will ALways let you down, poo on yer parade, bore you with their stories and tell you to your FACE you are a bore - when you've got internet, a keyboard and come equipped with ability, and you can always unplug, change email, codes or flat out turn the daggone thing off? THIS is a no-brainer, people.

*********

Been busy this morning. Belief.net had a very small article about depression which was good in and of itself, but for once the responders weren't rabid, psycho-mongerers that tend turn this bipolar away with their trash talk. No, in this case they seemed nice, so I gave them some of my best work. (Funny how people with mental illness bring out the best in me, as compared to the 'normies' that crap up MSN. So many undiagnosed, no?)

I love to see someone type the truth: yes, you are a survivor, and I am
very heartened to see a 14 year old write about her depression - and no, you are
not boring anyone.

Depression is one of those things that can seem
so quiet and insidious, but the truth is, for a sufferer it nearly always takes
over their life.

I really like the one the line of this article,
"The person with depression usually can’t see a way forward. They may fervently
believe that nobody can help them, and life is pointless. That doesn’t
mean that they’re right..." I think its really important to stress
that the extreme stinkin' thinkin' that comes with depression - is not correct
thinking! This seems obvious to 'normal' people but I think it's a jolt, a small
wake-up call, for a depressive. Just because the meanest thing (depression) that
has ever happened to you makes you feel like a sack: it is a bold face lie! You
are not such a thing no matter what your mind tells you.

The
problem with depression is that it can suck you in, and really the person with
depression can't help but be consumed with their issues, and in many cases the
little stuff a person has to do survive seem like insurmountable
tasks.

I write this with compassion, being a survivor not only of
depression but having soared extreme scary heights, with mania: I have bipolar
disorder and I have run the gamut of nearly every emotion you have heard about,
and all the half sizes in between. Being a survivor does not mean you are
'cured' - it means that, sometimes by miracle, you get up every day and keep on
trying. I know intimately the struggle, it is my life.

The biggest key is not giving up. I know that some people have 'issues' with the thought of medication, but I know that it has and still is saving my life. I do see
doctors. I've got a tiny family, but they understand my fight, and support me
like a pit bull. All of these are how I survived. I put it forth for those
wondering what to do for themselves or a loved one.

The thing is, we have hair commercials that sell the concept of 'I'm worth it' and sometimes I think we have to let that sink deeper to know those three words cover everything you see on the outside of a person and all the stuff inside too, especially the soul. I wish the best for all of us that suffer. Please know that you are worth
it and you are not alone in the struggle.

Unicef & The Child Mortality Rate, 2007

Hey, I bet you didn’t know this, because I sure didn’t, that Unicef was recently happy when the numbers came out of how many children have died this year worldwide: now under 10 million.

My God, I thought, Heaven must be a huge place when we are sending 10 million children a year there.

The reason for happiness is that if the numbers/percentage were the same since 1960, when they first started counting such things, if things had not drastically improved, 25 million children would have died in 2007.

I am getting my figures from the NYT article I read today. May I say that it is a real eye opener.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/13/world/13child.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=slogin

The littlest things helped these numbers improve: breast-feeding instead of mixing formula with dirty water, mosquito nets for babies, vaccination drives – and Vitamin A drops, “which drastically reduce the chances that a child will die of measles, diarrhea or malaria.” It amazes me that something so small could do so much good.

The hardest hit areas in the world are Southern Africa, because of AIDS, and the Congo and Sierra Leone because of harsh fighting where so many people are hurting, including children.

The thought came to me, what if five Westerners or do-gooders of any nation went forth and gave everything to help. And then five more go to another place, and so on. That would become a cell structure, like the ‘carcinogenic Al Quaeda’ has been described to us, for Good. Cells for a Better World. I guess they call it Unicef.

And before we get overwhelmed and sad with all of this information and every other upsetting thing they give us on the news, may we contemplate that already Many must have gone forth to create these better numbers in child mortality, to have cut it in over half already. That is so heartening to the Tart.

The best quote is at the end of the article:

"Success, Ms. Veneman said, “is not just linked to money, it’s
linked to setting priorities.”

My eyes were opened today, and I wanted to share. Sometimes you don’t know about things, until given a little information. :)

Because I love Christopher Walken!

Yeah, yesterday was my birthday. And due to the extremely elongated enjoyment of my 'adolescent youthful state' that I am enjoying, and regardless of my true born on date, I wanna see 'Balls of Fury.'

http://movies.nytimes.com/2007/08/29/movies/29fury.html?th&emc=th&pagewanted=print

Thank you, New York Times, for that insightful movie review.

B_tch about the quality of movies if you like, but I say you probably shouldn't be using those fantastic analytical skills on the actual nature of your own job, job description, ya know, like what 'cha do for a living, moron. :) Watch a crappy movie, go on vacation, watch another crappy one. Now's there's a paid po-si-tion, and the life of a true writer, at the New York Times for me!!

Mr. Walken is deeee-light-ful in 'Hairspray.' He's a wonderful, supportive dad, with no visible drinking problem or proclision for ladies other than his wife, and who delights in gag gifts. Maybe what's so fascinating about him here: his ability to relate joy, despite the fact that he pretty much has the smile of the overly-Botoxed. It truly was a joy to watch him dance with John Travolta, as his very large wife. We know Travolta/wife has got skills when he/she can boogie even with a big (prosthetic) behind! I think that gives ballroom dancing lessons a hopeful possibility for all of us.

If you catch even 1/25th of the 'original' 'Hairspray' movie you will see that this new one is truly head and shoulders about it. It really has the capacity to make you happy, just by sitting and looking at it. In this day and age, how many movies can raise the endorphins like that?

One of the best movies of Christopher Walken being Christopher Walken, is 'Joe Dirt.' I find this movie to be just the cutest, maybe because I am David Spade lover too, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

I think that movie has substance, and yes, to my droning Movie Professor who still yaks on in my head, it is a comedy. (Explanation: I asked prof why the were no comedies on the extensive list of movies he gave us do our paper on. He said because they weren't any with substance that really could be analyzed. So I was forced to do my paper on something that still gives me nightmares. I am bitter.)

Walken is just himself, what you expect him to be, especially if you had heard of 'Deliverance' and other war movies (heard and not seen. No woman who's been around a man holding a beer hasn't heard of the 'squealing pig' scene, and I've lived my life nicely without watching it.:) and it was fun to watch him on screen. Does it have to be more over-analysed than that? Rent 'Joe Dirt.' Own 'Hairspray' when it's available. Desire to watch a stupid movie just because you know one actor will make it worthwhile for you. Because Gosh darn it, you just wanna.

Have you heard Connie Talbert sing?

Connie singing ‘Over the Rainbow’:



Connie sings ‘Ben’ and wows a certain Mr. Cowell (again):



Connie is 6 years old. Her mother says she does not take singing lessons, she simply sings all day long and to herself. Connie says on that 2nd YouTube video that she was not nervous and yep, she enjoyed herself.

This clearly is a situation of a person completely immersed in their passion. That she is 6 and goes for the TV show, record deal, big bucks, accolades and recognition doesn't surprise me. She hasn't reached the age where a person might squash their own hopes and dreams because they start listening to people. She doesn't care, and she's obviously had a good mommie that's helping keep it that way. I really hope that she got to meet/perform for the Queen. Does anyone know?

Oh, and everyone's making a big beef over the apparent fact that Simon promised to give Connie a record deal and took it back because of her age. Whatever, if she keeps on having almost perfect pitch and singing well, Renee Angelil will divorce Celine Dion to get on an even younger train. Oh, Celine, you know I love you. He wouldn't do that. He'll probably be dead by then. :)

Do you think You could ressurect Your hopes and dreams that you innately had before letting the World squash them? I think at this point, most self-help gurus and what-not would say - You should try! Go for it! Sometimes you do have to ressurrect yourself, remember what it is you really loved to do. You pull your own bootstraps up at this age, and that includes figuring out how to make yourself feel better. Think clearly: Who's job is it to fix you? YOURS 100%. Accept that and you'll be doing much better.

If you do what you really LOVE to do, what could be better? When I think of people like Dog the Bounty hunter, or all of the great writers, past and present, or knitters & crocheters who adore their crafts, our Aunt Bessie who loved to tat and was supreme at it, The Crocodile Hunter, and now his daughter 'The Jungle Girl,' both with such great and needed passion, the great actors who blow us away, and some are not even the most famous of the famous, or any person that gets to participate in something they really love to do and enjoy it thoroughly, it doesn't matter if it's MY bag, the thing I like to do, those folks are in fact inspirational because the joy they have for what they do permeates, glows nearly, from them and they make me, almost subconciously, want to be a better person.

The thing is, I know a lot of the things I like. And I also know that I'm am fighting an illness, one that sometimes steals joy from me and makes me have to fight it and I often feel off-course, off-track, because of it. But I know that the fighting, the pushing against it, is something I must do. When in the midst of premenstrual and/or bipolar hate in my life, I have thought, I am cursed, God hates me. It does feel that way sometimes. But in better moments I see that somehow, no, in fact God loves me because he tests me so damn hard. I don't understand it all, but I know to call on Him, I know He's the Guy to talk to - and I know that I will win. If it is a game of winning/losing I know that the greatest thing I have going is not having taken myself out. If I endure to the end, taking it all, and leave this world the way God intends it, I win. My Dad did it, I have a wonderful example. Sometimes for me, the most awesome thing I've done in a day is just breathe.

No Sleep, Morrisette's Musings & the Great Elizabeth Taylor (No She Hasn't Kicked Off!)

So, I haven't slept at all tonight. Turns out that Seroquel really isn't enough to knock me out, I need my Lunesta. I have been out of it for a few days, including this past evening and have finally procured it from my drug store after literally days of hounding my doc.'s office (regular doc) to please respond to the drug store's request for refill. My experience with all doctors is as follows: the more competent the Dr., the more incompetent the staff. So that requires the consumer to make a decision: do I want an awesome Dr. and deal with his staff's inability to do the simplest things (my choice at present time) or do I finally get pissed with incompetent staff, ask for the form to get my records and leave them with one less person to bilk for their insurance pleasure needs (done this many a time).

Alrighty then. What I really want to talk about today is some vaccuous happiness! Yes, it's been so long. Before I do I will share what is helping me be a calmer, more centered person today.

In my flipping of the channels throughout the night, I saw 'Cribs MTV' with Alanis Morrisette's house on display. As in, Ms. Morrisette was showin' her crib herself, complete with little 'asian altars' and other various multicultural furnishings. I was impressed however by her very pagan/Buddhist altar in her room where she has crystals (hasn't been my thing since college), candles, and apparently performs 'cleansings' for herself and friends, depending on the negative vibe or experience that needs to be weeded out. Anyway, she said something like she does this to remind herself why she is on the planet, that sort of thing, and admitted that she needs to be reminded often. Very human, and oh so interesting for this bipolar, I'll tell you that.

I still believe in Jesus & the Bible, etc., and I'm starting to feel a wee bit guilty because that Buddism stuff is sounding really good, as I don't recall anything in my religious experience that immediately goes for a mediatory cleansing, or flat out encourages such centeredness. I'm not trying to mess with anyone's religious anything, I really don't want to mess mine/or lack of mine. But it certainly was interesting and managed to make me feel better somehow, and so I say so.

Alright. So today's vaccousness is: Ms. Elizabeth Taylor! I have the Time Life book on Hollywood and right on the cover is the utterly stunning Ms. Taylor while in bloom of her unbelievably gorgeous youth. I believe that with coverage like she had in the day, beauty that was unrivaled - there was a price to pay. That I believe, besides living long enough to have some literally back breaking illnesses, is to grow old enough to not have any of her leading men around and instead be surrounded by the insolent youth who didn't know her back then, and who tattle and b_tch behind her back. Shame on them!

Not too long ago, I heard them say Ms. Taylor fired people who would not have s_x with her, and that some staff felt like a 'human trampoline,' make your own inference. I find this utterly silly, considering the truth is, much like Franklin D. Roosevelt, she is mostly wheel chair bound and doesn't want the public to know it. If she's got the kind of libido to perform what they are saying, at this age I frankly say, 'More Power to Her!' This woman has had the most husbands, she's got the world's most fabulous jewelry and even if she had Alzeimer's (which no one has ever said, nor is there proof of) and was living in a complete fantasy world (entirely possible without a devastating illness) I still say she is fabulous and more interesting, talented than anyone this generation has chugged out. She also had the opportunity to work with the greatest actors: Brando, Newman, Burton, Montgomery (Ward?), just to name ones off the top of my head. Great movies: Cleopatra, Butterfield 8, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, soooo many more, and of course, well-deserved Oscars.

Wear all the contacts you want, Fergie, Gwen, Madonna, Christina, Mariah, Whitney, Scarlett, Reese, Nicole, Meryl, etc. - you will NEVER have naturally violet eyes. I see few stars/starlets of today ever having the staying power of Elizabeth Taylor or the fortitude to withstand old age as she is exhibiting. And how many people of her rank/caliber (read: loaded with money) get mad about something as devastating as AID's (her beloved friend Rock Hudson died of it, talk about stigma, Darling!) and just rock the world by practically establishing a fund/and continuing public awareness where she still speaks about it, still works it. If she were to die tomorrow and I admit putting her at the top of my 2007 Pool of the Dead (to be explained below), these are things that people should say and focus on about her. Now, the pictures. Um, mostly stolen from MSN, I 'think:' she's beautiful thin, she's beautiful a little plump, still a source of fascination and always, always Darling: talented.

Elizabeth w/ Richard Burton_1967 - She looks positively happy. I have always liked her predilection for malteses and the fact she won't leave home w/out them, even to this day.

I saved this as: Elizabeth, Anne of The Again Great Britain (I'm going to assume its a name of a movie. I don't know EVERYthing!) Look at her 'daywear' jewelry. Good golly, it's stunning!

Elizabeth Taylor_Anne of the Thousand Days_1969 Can't get over how pretty she is.

Elizabeth Taylor, Suddenly Last Summer_1959 Definitely in her youth. Can't help thinking this would be unbelievable in color.

Elizabeth Taylor_off MSN This is the young/thin stuff like the cover of the Time/Life Hollywood book. Insanely gorgeous.

Elizabeth Taylor w/ Richard Burton_1964 What a volatile relationship! Married and divorced this guy twice, I know that much. 'Taming of the Shrew,' boy that was a little too real I think. That was like marital therapy caught on film.

What is the 'Pool of the Dead?' Right around the time Anna Nicole kicked off, Husband's fellow office worker started a Pool of the Dead, where you could pick 10+ an extra that you thought would die in the year 2007. Whosoever had the most correct, as the most who died off their list, was to be treated to a free drink. I made our list with the understanding I get a free dinner since I don't drinkola. Well, of course, ANS was off limits (as if ANYone would have predicted THAT!) and 'unfortunately' Merv wasn't on mine (I don't know if anyone else picked him). As sick as it all sounds, I am an obituary hound by nature and it makes some famous old person's death a little more palatable, eh?! Oh, except my +person is Dale Earnhardt Jr., which Husband noted is kinda cruel, but hey, oh so plausible, no? And there you have it. Picks are in stone when we turn them in and we just have to wait for all the ravages of Death until the strike of midnight Dec. 31! And you thought pools were baby births and silly stuff like that!

Whatever Keeps You on The Planet

So, re-vamped the immediate warning sign on the blog a moment ago. Found myself on another person's blog (they were posting one of the my articles urls) and this other person actually warned potential clickers of my article [on someone else's site, as they clicked to come to my site] that there 'may be profanity.' Hunh. I tend to think this makes people die to come here, with a warning like that. Somehow it makes me look like a cussing fool. No, I am an honest fool. I let the inner angst out the way it wants to come out. I can cus like a sailor, a criminal or a sweetheart that spent way too much time in a state mental hospital. It took a looooooong time for me not to say f_ck every other word after the 6 month stay and family & friends were shocked every time I could figure out how to curtail it's use, in fact. So, I have skills, and sometimes they get used.

I just put the disclaimer up because I think honesty's the best policy and while I put it all over that I'm bipolar, there's still fools that don't understand how mad we can get. Righteously mad. But still, we are the sweetest of people.

So, on to other, perhaps similar subjects. I was feeling sui c i dal this evening, after being subjected to your average everyday women, the judgements of me firmly in her eyes and attitude, and the upshot was 'Tart felt like a freak, despite being as nice as I could be. I will never fit in. Now, Husband calls this 'low-self esteem.' Can you imagine me telling him that that I obviously won't be selling X to the female masses, the actual reason for the trip into b_tch country in the first place which was looking into the possibility (foolishly), because they just make me feel horrible. He says, 'Oh, that is your low self-esteem.' (He believes I should 'buck up' and not care what anyone thinks. Um, we can't all be HIM!) I almost injured him but I thought better of it since he was driving us home. 'THAT is blaming it on ME!" I said, "And clearly you could see how the ladies were treating both of us, actually." Why, why is it always MY fault when I point out other people not acting right, 'people' (or are they really demo ns?) basically crushing my spirit?

When the wife of a long time friend of Husb.'s tells me that Cancer is worse than Bipolar because they can die of it, I don't know why I inexplicably held my tongue, even though that Beyotch needs a lashing more than anyone I know in the flesh. (I don't need to tell YOU, dear Reader, that death by horrible natural cause is STILL more socially acceptable than death by own hand. How about the stigma of mental illness? Where are the walk a thons, ribbons, and CARE for mental f'n illness?) She had NEITHER illness? How did I ever let her get away with it? Oh, the mental floggings actually to myself, that occur to this day.

That was a case of, we've all known each other 15+ years, and Yoko (that would be moi) has been dragged to see these wretched people for years. You'll be quiet, won't you Yoko, for the sake of the friiiiieeeeeeeeennnnddddshhip? Hunh? They are wretched, time and time again doing & saying things that are unfathomable. In recent years, I have called them on one or two things. They have the nerve to say, "We're sorry your feelings are hurt," in nonsense emails to me, that take no responsibility. No, I'm looking for, "I'm sorry I did something that hurt your feelings." They word it like an f'n publicist. And if the wife weren't bad enough, she's essentially the naive, clueless one in the family. Her mother and sister are vipers, snakes that eat people up for breakfast. If the one is clueless, the family units are judging and conniving and near embodiments of evil. When her sister produced a child, I asked Husband if she had eaten it yet. He gave me the 'look,' I said, "Well, her kind usually does eat it's young."

Many stories involved with that one. I rue the day that I didn't kick the b_tch out of my car and make her walk to her sister's wedding (I'm speaking of viper sister, in my car, still bitter because our lovely hair crew told me I had beautiful lips. You'd think Viper would, and still does, pop a vein over that one!). Instead, I actually took ABUSE for the mere 45 excruciating minute ride that I was forced to bring her, and I wish that I HAD GIVEN HER A REASON to hate me, a reason for her incessant b_tching and hatefulness toward me for no god_amn reason at-all. You just wonder, really wonder what goes in those heads, the lack of brain chemicals perhaps, the practice they have gotten from being horrible their whole lives. People like that are a step above in the unbelievable chain, they really are worse than your average idiot judging-woman. Having been subjected to both kinds, I just don't have an explanation. I don't know why cruelty and judging feels so good to them.

I want my ranch. LOTs of acres. I want my animals. My pugs, other dogs, and alpacas. I'll take a stinky alpaca hug any day for the lies, the excuse that human beings represent. I'll go to the grocery store with my shades on and order most things online. Contact with people will be when I have what they want: information, buy an animal, a scarf, look around and say, "Gee, wish we could do this." Then they leave to carry on their insignifcant lives and CAN'T HURT ME.

I was going to come on here, after describing my su ic id al thoughts and tell you what snapped me out of it.

It was my usual checking and looking at MSN and, for once, clicking on videos. Normally, I'm all about reading the news/drivel, I don't like videos, any more than I like television news. But I clicked on the one about the Dad attacking his son's murderer in court, good but not satisfying enough. Love the concept, a whole movie w/ Kevin Bacon (ooh, free pub. yer welcome) is coming out about that.

No, the one I loved and broke my spell for me was the store robbery and how the robber (or clerk) almost bit one from the shotgun. Here's how it goes: robber demands money, clerk slowly gives him bills at a time, greedy f_k puts down gun and demands it faster, clerk grabs gun, (b4 getting to shoot a__hole, darn!) robber flees. Moments later (you know this guy's on meth) robber comes running back, over the counter and WANTS GUN BACK! Nope! Says clerk, struggle, Gun Goes Off! but damn it, no one injured. Robber flees, Good Sam writes down plate #, police track him down, and after THREE HOUR standoff (THAT really pissed me off) jerkoff is caught and toted away.

I thought, My God, a piece of cr_p like that causes so much trouble, ties up the 'valuable (that will be another post)' help of the public servant for 3 hours and has the nerve to not kill himself and save us the taxpayer money and waste on his sorry a__. And THAT was what made me feel better! Thank you, criminal, for making me realize that I am better than you. That I am occasionally, possibly helpful and that my life has worth. For I see that his does not. And if I can't be better the 'perfect women w/ children' that surround me, I am better than this f_ck. And that's why I'm calmer and not trying to figure out how to kill myself, right now.
:)
Another fellow mentally ill person I knew once said, "The mentally ill are nothing but a step up than a criminal, in the public eye." He was a smart individual who said this, who unfortunately wasted his time trying to change our County mental health system, to, of course, no avail. But not only does his smarts prove that mentally ill (and oh, believe me, he was) by no means, means 'mentally retarded.' (They are so hard-working in our area, but we mentally ill do give them such a bad rap).

So it proves true, no. I have no problem feeling above a criminal, and getting much needed respite from those suicid. thoughts. Sadly, the average woman, with all her judgements, are like punches to my person. Well, I guess it's the miracle of writing/blogging/my only therapy (die UT) that may someday uncover the reason and why that is. Because I refuse to believe that it's my 'low self esteem' and I'll kick anyone's ass who thinks so.

Bill Moyers talked to me (via my television) and the real reason Chauncey Bailey is on my sideboard.

Bill Moyers spoke live (LIVE!) to a Journalistic Association this evening, and I was riveted. He talked about what the new generation of reporter(s) means to the rest of us: a generation who has their cell-phone inexplicably (he says words like this so fascinatingly) tied to their computer and any other tech equipment like it was no big deal. They understand instant news, and probably expect it. The generation he was speaking of are his grand children and my sis in law's gen, had any of them done anything important with themselves, like journalism (okay, that last 'dig' was mine. Sheesh.)

So what I'm saying is Bill Moyers is NOT geezing into a lack of understanding of the 'newer' generation and sounds MUCH more unafraid of them than I would ever profess to be. You can see why I find him more/okay, almost as riveting as Billy Graham. Why would I compare? Something in my heart compares them, except that the Lord is most like taking Billy from us before Bill, but I was thrilled that I could sit and WANT to listen to Mr. Moyers talk about my chosen trade and it was really special for me. As in, I was proud of myself for sitting thru the whole thing and LISTENING, unlike some of you I bet who are still scanning and waiting for something good. I knows ya.

Well, further highlights include him making my heart proud, speaking of blogs and more independent media. For as cranked out as I or Reader get, my blog truly is of the independent nature. And Mr. Moyers explained why this is increasingly important, in a world of conglomerates with one company for EVERYthing, including your news sources - this should SCARE you people.

I've already had the discussions in the early 90's journalism classes about how scary it would be to have ONE television station, ONE newspaper source in this world - and how we are rocketing right to it! For the lazy (think Homer Simpson and 3/4's of you) that sounds great - makes everything easier, at least that's what some Big Brother advocates have been trying to make you believe for years.

....And Big Brother was first brought to you by the illustrious Orsen Welles (not some dumbass TV show or any other cr_p), and this guy was considered too smart to have been a reality. Oh but he was. Prolific guy too (look it up 20 somethin's, its good for ya) he scared the crap out of 1930's radio listeners in War of the Worlds (people died if that makes it more interesting for ya), wrote 1949 (mm, maybe I have year off, but the switching of the #'s has big significance) which DOES refer to the original Big Brother, made one of the most adored and fawned over (and I must admit, damn good even for a Bl&White) movie, the 'Rosebud' thing - Citizen Kane! (see you just have to remember a little to inform, anyway!).

So I digress. But you can research this concept of how nasty One newspaper, One TV station would be for truth. The worst thing would for there to be Not Divergent voices, Or voices that that were bought and so stayed silent. What if a paper wouldn't SAY anything about something, wouldn't inform you, the consumer and citizen, because they were owned by a corporation that would look bad if it's reporters took a look-see and said something.

That is why independence is incredibly valuable. To be independent and not bought, and top THAT off to be brave and nearly unshaken and go after a story because you know that is RIGHT, you know that is what you were put here to DO, and it is a responsibility that person CHOSE and we should all bow to these kind of reporters, editors - people who do it in the face of death. (This is the Lord of the Rings moment when the hobbits are told that they bow to no one. Hello, am I the only one that wants to bawl then? Do NOT answer.)

So this kind of talk about corporation blah blah that I just exPLAINED to you in above paragraph lead Bill to the inevitable discussion - that of how incredibly brave are journalists that died for their craft - and on came the list which, I may have to do some looking up to find pics for them and present them here, where I would be mighty honored to present their memory.

You see, Mr. Bailey is only the latest in journalists that has been gunned down in a hope to shut up and stop a story. I guess it is obvious that it's done in the 'name' of e vil, stupid and shortsighted as well, a smutball(s) would take away the life of someone for this reason, but it also shows how important the work that the editor, reporter, journalistic person does.

Can you imagine? Places like Turkey, South America, Pakistan (these are my direct knowledge at the moment, there are MANY more places) yes, with cowards in covered faces (there are no words. Don't they care that they're going to Hell?) but now its AMERICA, Your Land, My Land people, a citizen, I just can't help pointing out, where we all apparently thought, "You just can't do that, and not for that reason!?! Oakland, California does not have to be considered thug central (even tho that's what the rest of us think) and this was not a 'standard' gang killing. It wouldn't matter to me who's coward self would gun down an upstanding hard working man (and that's how I felt about Mr. Bailey as soon as I read the story) who's job is was to be editor of a newspaper for these ingrates.

I wonder what it's like for his family, I wonder what it's like for his colleagues and I'm glad it was priority enough that they are starting to really get a handle on the perpetrators (I do mean plural, in terms of who really wanted him dead). But he's dead and it does matter. Exactly as terrorists, they wanted fear for all involved. And that is why I hope they tear the perps apart. But that's just a little JungleTart rage, you know how it is.

But Mr. Bailey is on my blog because I care. I cared before Bill Moyers mentioned his name today, and I care about all of them. Daniel Pearl and many whose name does not seem as familiar, all that kept doing what they were doing and faced death right on. For information, for you to be informed. If that is not the supreme of canastas, I just don't know what is.

intellectual copyright 080807 - that means I can legally hunt you down and make you quit using my stuff as your own, Numnut. All of my material is copyrighted, and has the same warning.

Oh, numnut will continued to be spelled n-u-m-n-u-t on this blog. Not only because I hope daily to enrage the num_nut that complained about it, but because I wouldn't spell it any other way. It reminds me of num-nums, which is kind of cute, like something Chip & Dale would say to each other. I felt then, as I do know, that adding a b to the mixture was just too crass. I was never thinking of the scrotal area of a man, and I don't think you should have to either, every time you see it. I'm not lascivious on purpose, only when necessary. I'm glad we've had this talk, and if your child misspells numnuts on their next test, well, you'll know exactly what to do.

Burn it, Burn it and tell them they're going straight to HELL!!!!!
'cause any good Mom (hah!) knows that's the proper thing to do.
:)
Have a JungleTart Day!!!!!:)

Slate: Mummy Slummy and some usual Jungletart hatred. :)

Okay, I read this review about a book about incompetent moms in the NYT, in the stupid Slate (hate the Slate! My responses about a botched Hemingway piece were so underloved on their site. Bite me, Slate.), (I get NYT in my email for free. Apparently, I'm being liberalized and buying into media hype, for FREE). ANYhow, focus, about the story, pay 'tention: You know the type, walking around in pajamas, clueless about how to buy a stroller, ya de yade YA DE! What we're talking about is INCOMPETENT PEOPLE, people! And this reviewer, had some pretty harsh words about THAT! Can't have the world falling apart like that, AND writing about it too - right Drill Sargeant??!! NOO!

Nah, I don't care. I don't care that the reviewer was bitch-y (see that is not a noun, it is an adjective:) or that her minions posts concerning the described article were bitchier c_nts (okay, one of those might be a mean nasty noun. But I do that. I cus. And have a disclaimer. You have been warned). Anyhow, wretched x 100. Don't take MY word for it, I know that all that come here, do their research! Their homework! They want to SEEEE if for themselves. I understand.

What to Make of Slummy Mummy http://www.slate.com/id/2171428/fr/flyout

The reason I don't care about what THEY said is cuz, I took care of them in MY RESPONSE. See that's what I do on a Saturday, waste it away, typing and thinking, or is it thinking and typing? Well anyway, as Slacker #1, bipolar screwed up life speaking, I get to type kick ass responses that I am extremely proud of and you get forced to read it, or at least, I post them on my own blog to not only take credit for it, but to hold it here in glorious terpitude, as well (yes, its a word, I'm pretty sure I used it right, look it up).

Oh, in case you think this slacker has it TOO easy, I had to break up fights between my Pug and Siamese. You have no idea what it's like. The Pug is adorable and wants attention and be on Mommy's lap (I'm Mommy, eat your heart out) so she's standing there with big, big Brown Eyes. Kitty, Reese Kitty, Kitty Boy (Pretty Boy, hell we don't know what to call him) He just doesn't like her being in his room (which the office IS his room, so he's always got a point when he starts pulling this). He YOWLS at her, and if you know what a Siamese sounds like, its a wee bit LOUD. Truth: I wouldn't care about their problems, except he pulls this yowling stuff. Oh its hell. As a comPLETE side note: I don't have stretch marks from children. Aw, I'm just rubbing it in. I've got stretch marks from being fat from being alive. Bipolar and take drugs for it, you'll find yourself fat with stretch marks. Watch anybody care about that. THAT's why my slacker life is hell. And so counter culture. But maybe my 315 other posts explain about that.

Yes. Working for no money, typing on the computer all afternoon, do it for free (um, nobody does it for free. StripTease individuals AND prostitutes get paid, and so does everyone else - so what does that make me?) A brilliant bipolar on disability that quit her last job and resists the guilt to work some MO, and loves the computer and typing crap. Wow! I didn't know I could be described so well! If only it would fit on a resume.

So anyHoo, just go to the url to understand what got me mad enough to spend ALL Saturday afternoon on and never realize the time (that's how you know you're in heaven, no concept of time. That's for artistic types. I have no idea for the boring Everybody Elses. A h_rd-on 'cause the day is done? That's why they rule the world and make it hell for everyone else). THEN, OR you could just read what I have to say. Maybe you'll be interested in the original crap after doing and click on the url above and then somehow I helped this dumb b_tch. Oh well, I always get s_rew_d somehow.

Oh pah-lease, exactly. As a bipolar, 35 (read: No kids YET??!!), married
woman who thankfully has a blog to get out my ‘frighteningly’ similar issues of
slacker lifestyle, I’m thinking “Thank you!” for bringing this apparently
‘terrible book’ to my attention for some intense perusal for my own research, or
at least apparently, mild chuckling, for my own book.

After all,
if this even hint of ‘counter culture’ (read: reality for thousands) bites the
bottom of a bunch of dull, ‘perfect’ people as yourselves, I’m already drooling
thinking of the ‘paper’ (that means money) the publishing house will have to put
out for some well-written slacker lifestyle ‘drivel’ (with admitted bipolar and
brilliant tendencies) by someone who can tell you how it’s
done.

You idiots, there are TONS of almost non-functioning people
out there, yes especially, but not contained to, moms saddled with that ‘most
important of jobs’ which, in my view, has been culturally shoved upon them.
There are many who feel alone and utterly clueless, waiting for some real
information, especially anecdotal, and for a body of people to call their own,
attach to and feel better about themselves with, whether because they simply ARE
everyday ‘slobs’ and clueless, or have something more of a problem and can
finally get help if it’s needed. Thank God they are getting a
voice!

It’s strange that you nearly describe them as the slime of
the earth – have you all become so derogatory and critical that this is what it
takes to make YOU feel better? Methinks you protest the existence and the gall
to speak of the ‘annoyingly less than perfect’ a little too much, eh?

Look, lipstick/no lipstick,
how-dare-these-people-talk-to-me-at-the-playground Stepford-mommie meanies– get
off your high horse. I swear that you really aren’t perfect, better or whatever
your beef is, and need to finally be quiet and realize that what you really are
is: cruel & catty - a game that’s been over since high school and only gets
revived when you get a chance to ‘express your opinion’ on the web and in
reality – do you get that? It’s my sincere prayer that you would stop the
cruelty (which is the bullying of your fellow sisters, whether in your head or
sadly, aloud). You stop it, that would be some significant change in the world.
The first step is understanding that yes, it’s you.
The interesting
question for the reviewer of this book is ‘Are you disturbed because slackers
even exist and that alone is your ‘simple issue,’ or does it gall you that they
would say something and you really think they should be embarrassed, and by God,
it’s your job to embarrass them out of speech? Because I think this is just the
beginning, and rightfully so, of ‘slacker expression.’ If you hate it this much,
I hope they flood the market with it. The time is coming for
judgmental/perfectionist (funny how it really is a combo) so-called ‘normal
folks’ to take your ‘shut-up and eat it’ juice and like it. For your every push
and incessant yammer that insists ‘be like me or say nothing at all’ there ought
to be a slue of those nutty ‘counter culture’ writers to put you into your
place, and I plan to be one of them.

Oh my God! You are so Irreverant, Tart!! aka Mountcastle Funeral Home is a wretched establishment that I wouldn't take an enemy to. That is all.

Normally, (hah!) I try not to cut on people/institutions LOL! Well, mentally I’m cutting apart institutions like the meanest of people cut on other people.

Here is a fantastic one! Telemundo is reprimanding a reporter because she was having an affair with the mayor of L.A. (California, a United State) and (here’s the key component) she announced on air his separation from his wife while this same reporter was carrying on said affair with the Mayor. So, if she just handed that story to some other reporter (Oh no! I Couldn’t report That!!) then would she be scot free?

Yes, I know we’re saying who the hell the cares? Whoever Jennifer Flowers worked for could have fired her and we’ll still know who the hell she is (one of Mr. Clinton’s many affairs, hello!) and I’ll never remember the name of the lady involved in this. But moreover, when did Telemundo or Mexican television ever become a moral indicator of anything? I can’t imagine a radio/TV station in the U.S. reprimanding ANYone for anything like this (we bitch about Imus being fired, because he actually did something morally reprehensible). This lady had a private thing going on with a piddly Mayor. And I’m sure it was just a blip in California. Raise your hand if you recall our L.A. Mayor getting a spanking.

It’s like Mexican television saying, “Look, here’s our first reprimanding, ever! Aren’t we so morally clean!” or something. What the? Isn’t that what those people have the Catholic Church for? Couldn’t they have sent the offending reporter for some Hail Mary’s and tape it for a segment about the price of sin on their show? Probably high ratings among the demographic. I’m just sayin.’


Next topic:

I get all kinds of crap in my Yahoo mail account. ‘Best of all,’ are the stuff written by someone whose going through depression coupled with a struggle with sobriety or something like that and gets to spam us all with her ‘issues.’

I’ve said before, to the detriment of people getting upset at me in the past because I actually tried to say things about it that I’ve never struggled with sobriety. It’s always been with me and never tried to slither away. So I’ve been advised to not talk about things I know nothing about. Fine. I know enough about the seedy sides of life to not need another problem. And I won’t cut on a lack or inability to find sobriety (where’d it go? I couldn’t resist) or expound. Either way, I’m safe.

Oh, but I will say I had the equivalent of 2 Tequila shots a few days ago and can report absolutely no repercussions. It was fun and exhilarating, but I know it can’t become a habit. See, sobriety still sitting next to me like a best friend.

BUT, I know loads about depression. I also know about that much nicer state of just thinking you feel fine! And I know about my various levels of being too high (Hunh! If there such a thing!!!!!) and would NEVER want to compare that to others, because apparently there’s ALL kinds of levels to that. Differing levels of suffering too, but to each our own piece of what we call our own, no?

So, anyhow this writer, I hope to God I don’t have to remember her name since I already deleted the stupid thing, was saying they were in what I would call a ‘stasis’ period, basically unhappy as all get out but no longer looking up gun stores or researching various ways to kills herself (let me tell you, it’s hard as hell to do it properly. Just think, people near death still need an ugly fuck like Dr. Kevorkian to reach the next level. There’s something to chew on). She just felt jealous of terminal patients who were {this is a quote} almost on a paid Sandals vacation to Death.{end sort a quote} (I would not want to ‘steal’ such a brilliant four word sentence). She scanned the obituary column to see who had gotten lucky lately.

Hunh. That got me to thinking, since I put the Obits in my local paper for nearly two years. A very depressing job, and ridiculously bizarre ‘choice of job’ for a manic-depressive to hold, and for so long. It was my job and I didn’t have time to think these morbid-repressive thoughts this bitch came up with. No, I was too busy getting my butt chewed out by people who have no concept of “daily paper” and that neither I nor the paper is here to get Daddy’s rank or the family address to be PERFECT, although I surely F’n tried to every single stinkin’ day, although told NOT TO EVEN BOTHER on day ONE. Just as an aside, try considering reality when placing these ads, I don’t care that we actually charged for it! No obit is bringing your kid, parent, best friend back. And most people are so stupid whether in spelling or their English skills (whether writing something or reading something) that THEY WILL NEVER NOTICE OR CARE. And riding the butt of the low level, lowly payed individual that you talk to on the phone will NOT make you feel that much better and will earn you my undying hatred. I think people need to hear that. Cause I never got to tell them, if I did they’d lose an electron or pop something important, somewhere, and I was forced to still care.

So, blah blah someone responds about people she heard of or knew of that killed themselves. I guess because that is this person’s contact with mental illness. And ‘Why is it some people kill themselves and other’s keep trouping on’ or something the hell like that.

As if dumb bitch (Beliefnet writer. I hate it. I wish I could unsubscribe but they seem to have me screwed and send me all kinds of shit regardless, every time I try) would have any clue or balls to answer a question like that.

But I would! First of all, this is an easy designation: the one’s who killed themselves were either weak (mentally or physically) and gave up. The rest of us have some thought or something at some point, perhaps support from family and or friends, or intelligence that outlasts most, sometimes regardless of reason, and continue to hang on. Or we’ve got a bipolar gene and are lucky if we make it, and continue past, 30.

As distasteful as that first explanation is I’ll put forth that even the most intelligent, brilliant, incredible, possibly even moral individuals could kill themselves because they just don’t see, or want to see, that it’s worth holding on. They accept the lie and don’t realize that they are in fact throwing away something precious. Their mother, family, friend, can all see quite clearly that it was THROWN AWAY and that it’s a god damn travesty but that does Mr./Ms. Dead Person no good, now does it?

And I’ll tell you this. If we were to analyze Dead Person’s life we probably would see that not only could they have been helped (an effort on our part) but in the end this person ultimately chose to commit a final SELFISH act. As all readers know, Tart hates Selfish even in the dead. So maybe I’m a little bitter if not most of all heart-open honest. And that’s MUCH more than you can say about most people. And I had to deal with Death every day I went into that stupid part-time job. For $8.00 an hour. Does that seem compensatory? Nope. And certainly not for the screaming and abuse I put up with from one Mountcastle Funeral Home. I wouldn’t take even my dead mother there. Hah-hah, that’s Obituary column humor. Dead humor. Beat it with a dead-horse, Tart. :)

Reading: Good for you? Perrrrhaps.

I’m more excited about the movie ‘Hairspray’ coming out than the last Harry Potter book. To be honest (am I ever anything other?) I haven’t read a book since graduating from college in 2003. I didn’t really think about it, but I guess I have had my fill. I found out last year that I had to get new glasses because my eyesight IMPROVED 3 entire notches. I had never heard of such a thing, but my optometrist assured me he’s seen it before. Anyway, I’ve done my fair share of reading of books in the past, I now read on the Internet all the time, but who knew it wasn’t the same.

I respect J.K. Rowling’s personal story, a lovely rags to riches story for her as a writer. But if it weren’t that they keep making her books into movies, I wouldn’t know what happens because I have not, and probably will never, crack the book open. It really doesn’t interest me, I don’t see getting attached, it’s just not my bag (baby).

I read voraciously as a child. Age 11 and up I could not get enough of books. Most favorite of all was the Laura Ingalls Wilder books for two distinct reasons: I loved the Victorian age, 1890’s era and she is so descriptive, I am sure her work was the fire for my passion for non-fiction. The books were better than the television show, and yes in real life she had a sister named Mary who had gone blind. Her passion for description, and ease in writing with lots of it are clearly from describing the world to her sister. And the thought that even though they were all dead and gone by the time I discovered her was an amazing feeling, as I thought to myself ‘That’s what a book can do.’ Provide immortality, plain and simple.

Today's Headlines 7-17-07

The lowdown on the hodown on today's hot topics. I used to work for a newspaper. Now I use it to do crafts on.

They’re talking about not stripping Miss New Jersey of her crown because of racy pics. Have they just given in? If any other Miss America has ever been stripped of crown for these reasons, why are they just saying ‘fuget about it’ now? Ms. Williams, the first black Miss America ought to be seething cause that’s how they got rid of her and Everyone acted like it was the End of the World. Just because today’s youts are a bunch of sluts is no reason to forget the standards.

Today: '90 more people killed in Iraq bombings.' Last week: Bush says 'War Worth It.' Really? Just how is it worth an ave.100 dead per day? You know, there’s people around today that won’t be tomorrow, that thought blows me away. What blows me away even more is over 3,500 American boys are already dead and nobody’s marching in the streets over this. The Harris Poll says only ¼ of Americans support Bush at this point. So does this mean that the other ¾ are sleeping, or is that all illegal immigrants?

'Intelligence says: Al Quaida will most likely attack.' Oh well, do you think? This revelation is to stop the after-attack bitching of ‘You didn’t tell us this would happen.’ It’s usefulness pretty much stops there, since we don’t what’s going to happen. Well, all you canners and emergency paraphernalia securers better get on it, that’s all I have to say. Personally, destroying the Internet would be enough to make me cry daily, but you didn’t hear it from me.

Well, this was fun. We should do it more often.
:) Tart