The Meh Page

2011-07-14T22:35:00.001-07:00

Goobye my friend.

2011-06-24T08:06:00.000-07:00

It has taken me almost a month to write this.
It took me more than two weeks to find out.
She was my mentor.
She taught me to shoot a Canon instead of a Nikon.
She was my friend.
I cried enough tears to fills a thousand flower vases.
I will miss her.
Good bye, Charlene.

THE Blog

2011-01-07T08:00:00.001-08:00

There is a blog that has been rattling around in my head for almost 2 years now, and I keep starting it and finding that I get to a certain point and *BANG* it just dies.
I either run out of words to say, or it just gets too personal therefore making it too hard, or it just seems to go on and on and on and I'm sure that no one will have the patience or the interest to read my humongous ramble of a blog. I keep saying I'm going to write it, nay PROMISE I'm going to write it, and you can usually tell by the post dates that I write a bit at a time and then leave it alone again.
Instead of going off on the big blog here, I'm going to let anyone who is still reading me know that I am still alive, and while I'm not going to write a resolution or a bucket blog, I am going to kick 2010 in the as and move on to 2011 with a better attitude and an attempt to improve my health as much as I can, all the while writing THE blog bit by bit. I know that it needs to come out, even if it's only for me and me alone. You can continue to read and see if the blog makes it out, but I know this...this year will be a better year than the last one.
I have made other promises to myself as well.
I will get my camera out more often.
I will go back to the gym.
I will find a job that fulfills me.
I will write more often.
I will try harder to be a more social person and spend less time alone inside my own head.
I will keep moving forward.
These are the best things I can do.
I will write THE Blog.

2010-10-08T11:40:00.001-07:00

Lately a lot of people I know are having kids, or their kids are starting to send their kids to school and they have all their cute stories about first days of kindergarten and their cute little things their little ones say on the way to school, or at the dinner table after the first day.
I know that most of you who read me also read Buddha Mama and we all followed her pregnancy and now the first year of their new and second little ones life. Of course Mama has lots of funny stories, funny blogs about the new dancing baby and Cracky, who is so funny that her blogs about him are enough to make me snort like a laughing pig.
I once wrote in a comment of one of Buddha Mama's blog that her stories about her son ( how does she end up with the hilarious children's stories she puts out good babies) and I said that her Cracky stories made my uterus ache.
I chose not to have children, so I suppose my withering uterus is my own fault, and the time to have a baby has passed me by, I think, as I don't want to be 60 taking my kid to his or her first day of school....
But for the first time I am seriously thinking I may have made a mistake when I decided not to have a baby.
The tumbleweeds rolling through my deserted town of a uterus are a little noisier than they have in the past.
Then again,I am happy being a godmother to 5 or 6 kids,an Aunt to two nephews, and I am always happy to spend time with the little ones, fill them up with pop, give them loud toys, and send them home full of sugar and energy.
I am always relieved to get them out of my house so that I can sit in the quiet with my cats and remember why I never had kids of my own.(stop it with the crazy cat lady jokes, please
Aunts and Grandmas are the ones that you let spoil their family little ones as we have earned the right to spoil them, Grandmas because they went through having and raising your sister or your brother and they are now the Queen Mother of the family. Aunts had to put up with you siblings all our childhood, which means we are entitled to give your kids some chocolate, or snack til their bellies are full, and then send them home to you all jacked up.
Thinking of that, I have let my nephews do some not so Motherly things, but we sure have a good time breaking all Mummy's rules.
Maybe it's not the tumbleweeds that are making the noise, it's the sound of thundering feet that belong to your now hyped up, over excited little ones that will now have Auntie Lori stories to tell. Maybe they will even be cute or funny, and not just about all the Chocolate I gave them.
I will gladly watch them for the day.
Do they like Coke or Pepsi better? Drums?
Hmm.. perhaps my uterus is not so lonesome and dried out after all.

To my 17 followers

2010-01-25T13:39:00.000-08:00

I have a new blog site, a place I am blogging with two very humourus other women. I'll still blog here, but this page will probably end up being on the more serious side.
So come on over to read some funny stuff instead of hanging out here and reading the depressing stuff.

http://threefunnychicks.blogspot.com/

Cheers! See you over there.

Lori

With the Good comes the bad

2009-12-19T23:15:00.000-08:00

My last blog was full of Christmas-type joy, and the happiness of reconnecting with old, best friends and how that was more than a good enough present for me.

I should have known.

I should have been watching over my shoulder for that shitty surprise that seems to lurk over my shoulder right around the time the good thing is happening. (I feel like I'm in an episode of "My Name is Earl except I could never pull off that sexy 'stache Jason Lee sports.)

It may sound like I'm whining, and maybe I am, but I'm entitled, plus it's my blog and I can whine if I want to.

I guess because I had finally stated to dip my toe into that pool of belief where when something good happens, more good will follow.

It seems I forgot that people can be hurtful and cruel, and promises are seldom ever kept, and trust should really be a four letter word, because it sure shows up as much as fuck does in my vocabulary, and though I can do it, fuck as a positive adjective is hard to pull off on a regular basis. Believe me, I try.

I spent a lot of years building up those walls that keep people out, that it takes a big effort to let someone in, and in the last few relationships and even some friendships, I have found I would have been better off leaving the door into my life and my heart sealed shut.

Don't get me wrong, I don't believe the worst of most people and even over the internet I have made some good, strong friendships with people whose hearts are pure, whose honesty is truth, and whose friendship is a gift.

I am truly grateful for those friends, because I would have been stranded (emotionally and other ways) for the last two years were it not for them.

Then there are those, that for whatever reason seem unable to be honest, to keep their word, or to be the kind of friend that is kind, and cares about other people's feelings as well as their own, not putting one before the other.

I've gone back to therapy again, somewhere I will probably need to stay in for the rest of my life, because I feel like all the work I did with my last therapist around the issue of trust and letting people in got lost somewhere along the way. I need much more than a refresher course.

And I need to tend to the heart that was so filled with happiness the other day. It feels a little broken again.

End pity pot pontification.

I'm writing a blog!!!

2009-12-16T17:28:00.001-08:00

It's been months, I know, and I really don't have any excuse since I haven't been working, or really doing much of anything but being sick. I haven't been out with my camera (for shame, I know)and like I said, I have not been posting blogs either. I have been writing, I just never feel like posting them.

I thought I'd post this one because it fits with the season, which unfortunately seems to be the one time of year when people remember to be a little kinder and gentler, to give a little more to those in need, and a time to celebrate the love of family and friends.

I'm not a big Christmas person.

I don't put up a tree or anything, and last Christmas it was me, my cats, and the movie channel. I don't have a large extended family, so there isn't much of a reason to put up a big Christmas to do. Plus, I'm usually so broke I can't even afford the less expensive, more meaningful gifts.

We have a small dinner, exchange small presents, but Christmas always feels like a child's holiday to me.

I do love to see the children's eyes light up when Santa is mentioned,for once in a year I love the sound of thundering feet as the kids who have already had too many Christmas treats and are running and bouncing off the walls ( Although that sounds like a Friday night at the bar to me..)which is where you do the celebrating with people from work, or social groups get together, or you spend it with friends.
I don't go out, I don't really drink, and most of my friends are married with kids, or just married or dating someone or have their own family plans.

So, there is a good chance I will spend Christmas with my Cats eating Mandarin oranges and watching on demand videos.

Now it may sound like I'm whining, but I'm not. I expect this to be one of the best Christmases in a few...

I have reconnected with a very, very good friend. In fact, I'd say she was my best friend. We haven't seen each other in near 20 years, but when she picked up the phone the other night it was like no time had passed at all. We laughed at the same things we always did, we told stories about the bad(ass) old days and the people we know, we talked about everything you can cram into an hour and a half after a decade or so.

The best part of all of it is that she will be out here for Christmas, and we will get to see each other for the first time in forever.

My mood has gone from melancholy to super-excited. I feel like a kid at Christmas again, and even though there will be no big presents, there will be lots of conversation and as many laughs and hugs as we can cram into a visit or two.

There can't be a better Christmas present than that, can there?

I feel the twinkle in my own eye when I think about the best present I've gotten in many, many Christmases.

Thank you, Santa.

Alley Shopping days 3 and 4

2009-07-31T13:26:00.000-07:00

Too hot to move.
Sorry.

Alley Shopping Day 2

2009-07-29T15:33:00.000-07:00

I had a whole bunch of errands to run today, so I did not take a long look down more than two alleys.
However, here is what I found-

1 A velvet Sofa-

2.two pairs of free sneaks-

3.Free Boots. I am sure theses are related somehow to those fuggly things-

4. A white couch-

5. Some Matresses in case you need a nap-

6. A 70's Area rug-

7.Another Printer-

8.A chair-

9.And lastly another coffee pot and microwave-

The weekend of moving is approaching fast, and I will continue to report from the front lines!

2009-07-28T16:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I wrote a blog about alley shopping.

Today, and until after the weekend I am going to post (daily) what I find, what I take home, and what I leave behind.

Please feel free to comment if you would have done differently with an item.

Also just leave damn comments and subscribe to my friggin blog. What am I, mildly amusing cow poo?

I write this for

YOU
so is it too much to ask for a comment?

OK. Rant over. Sorry.

Tuesday July 28.

On a very short walk I saw

1.An 80-ish Microwave.

2.An Iron maybe 5, 6 years old
.
3.A stereo receiver

4.A computer monitor approx 17"

5.A mirror I saw on my way to the Dr. that I figured I'd get on the way back, but
BURN, as I turned the corner into the lane, a shopping cart sweetheart was attaching it to her shopping cart.

That's all so far, but I'm going on a walkabout later to take pics, maybe I'll add them to this blog.

Until later then? And did I keep any of it? Would you have?

2009-07-27T10:58:00.000-07:00

It's getting close to the end of the month which in my neighbourhood spells treasure hunting!
I'm sure it happens in a lot of cities, but here it's like a tradition.
At the end of the month, when everybody moves, they leave behind the stuff they no longer want or have room for. There's a lot of TV's lately, as people are switching to flatscreens, they no longer want their old tube TVs . The only thing is, some of these tube TVs are less than 5 years old and are in perfect shape.I haven't collected any TVs as my family has dumped off two on me, and I have a flatscreen, so, no need for another TV, but I have found an old steamer trunk that someone had to carry all the way to my place(tyk),a solid wood table with mahogany veneer which I plan to strip and shakerise, along with the solid wood hutch that will get the same treatment-just in another colour. I'm keeping it to primary colours. Reds, Blues, Whites and Blacks.I found a cedar bedsides table and a wooden drying rack.I also found a pine side table. All free. I once saw a gorgeous in perfect shape velvet lounge (ideal for swooning whence fainting from the vapours.)Plus, this is a long weekend I think, so more time to browse.
Wish me Happy Treasure hunting-I need new drawers!!
Not those kind, you pervs.

And so it goes...again

2009-02-16T07:29:00.000-08:00

So, you would think that I'm just here at 9:30 to dash off a quick blog before work.

You would be wrong.

Because in order to do that, one must have a job, which I no longer do.

"What the fuck???" you say. "Pina, last week you had TWO new jobs. Now you have none? How can this be?? You're super smart, and we mean SUPER smart (although we know the theory of everything sounds like bull shit to you- it does to us too) not to mention gorgeous and all that, so we just don't get it!!"

Well folks, neither do I.

I was once fired at a store called Roots for not having enough "Rootsitude" and I laughed while she was firing me because "Rootsitude" is a fucking made up word, and you can't fire someone with a made up word, I looked it up in "The Big Book of Jobs" when I was trying to see if strippers, I mean candy stripers have to pay taxes the way everyone else does, and there it was- Rule 467- "If you fire someone with a made up word, they can laugh in your face because you are a super douche" Totally true.

Now I would gladly take that shit job back on my knees.

SHUT IT.

Pervs.

2009-02-15T13:24:00.000-08:00

For all of you that are stuck on what to serve your hungry little brats on hallowed President's Day, look no further!!
The good folks at RecipeSource have sent me the PERFECT meal idea for you!
It looks so good, that I couldn't help but re post it for you here...trust me, you and your kids will thank me later.



     Title: FRENCH FRY SPAM CASSEROLE
  Categories: Main dish
       Yield: 8 servings
  
       1 pk Frozen french fry potatoes,
            -thawed (20 oz)
       2 c  Shredded Cheddar cheese
       2 c  Sour cream
       1 cn Condensed cream of chicken
            -soup (10 3/4 oz)
       1 cn SPAM Luncheon Meat, cubed
            -(12 oz)
     1/2 c  Chopped red bell pepper
     1/2 c  Chopped green onion
     1/2 c  Finely crushed corn flakes
  
   Heat oven to 350'F. In large bowl, combine potatoes, cheese, sour
   cream, and soup. Stir in SPAM, bell pepper, and green onion. Spoon
   into 13x9″ baking dish. Sprinkle with crushed flakes. Bake 30-40
   minutes or until thoroughly heated.


  Yummy, huh??

You're Welcome!!

2009-02-06T05:53:00.000-08:00

On what is officially my last day as an unemployed lazy assed couch sitter who has watched every single episode of CSI Vegas (the ones with Lady Heather the dominatrix are my fave, because you know Grissom is in to some creepy shit and he seems to know a LOT about the domination/submissive culture) and they did do that episode about the furries, an issue I have a real problem with, but I didn't have much else to do.
It used to just be sports mascots that would send me screaming into the nearest bathroom stall when one was coming any where near me, but at least those people are doing a job, they're getting paid, paying taxes, etc. but plushies or furries or whatever they are called, these people get off by rubbing up against each other in giant raccoon or bunny or floppy eared beagle costumes headed costumes *shudders* and they fly all over the country to meet up with chickens and cats and...well you get the idea.
I know there is a name for this fetish, but I'm just to lazy to look it up, so you could go do it if you want.
They even have a bunch of made up words to describe what they do to each other at conventions, and the mental image I have now put in my own head of stuffed animals climbing all over each other has totally made me want to cry, or vomit, or both, I should move on to the real blog.
In April of last year I bought a camera. Just one of the higher end Canon point and shoots, and I started taking pictures. Some of the ones that I love the most (although they are tragic in nature) Usually, I would go downtown to the part of Vancouver where the walking dead get their dope, and I would give them a pack of smokes, or maybe a hot lunch, to let me take their pictures, and have them tell me their life stories. My whole idea was to contribute stories and photos to Sara's website on Myspace called "The Bum Chronicles."
I got some pretty good photos, and some really tragic life stories, stories that needed to be told even if it was just to remind all of us how much we have in comparison to others. To show that in spite of the fact that Canada has universal medical, and programmes to help people living on the streets, usually fleeing from situations far, far worse than sleeping in a doorway and pan handling for dope money, that just for a short time we should remind ourselves just how lucky we are, and just how poorly our social systems are being run, or even that a hot meal may be something that means far more to someone who hasn't eaten well in months that someone cared.
I took a lot of pictures, listened to a lot of stories (most of which would make even the hardest hearted person tear up) and I came home and started to write.
Then I hit a wall, big time.
It was the worst case of writer's block I've ever had since I learned to write "I love you Daddy" with my big box of 64 coloured Crayola crayons.
I couldn't make the words fit with the pictures, or vice versa. The words were there, but they were jammed in, stuck, and were not moving and no matter how I tried to get them out, the bigger the word log jam became.
And it sucked.
I kept all the notes and the pictures, figuring that when it was time, they would come together. Probably like a massive geyser, but they would come. And since I was sick, and not working, I was sure I would be able to write, I mean I had nothing but miles of empty days stretching out in front of me.
Still, 7, 8, 9 10 months passed and those stories and ideas and the ability to get them down, even on paper stayed stuck like the nasty gum that plastered the underside of my Grade 2 desk.

Until last night.

I sat down, and I started to write, and it was exactly as I thought it would be. Old faithful sputtered out some steam and then it felt like it was exploding. I couldn't type fast enough. I was up all night, and I managed to get out three separate blogs/articles.

The words and pictures came together like a 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzle.

They're raw, and need editing, but I feel like a huge part of my brain just cleared itself the way an early morning fog will suddenly disappear, revealing the bright blue sky, and the first warm Spring day when you need only a light sweater to keep the breeze off your shoulders.

And while I am a big fan of irony, especially the dripping, delicious irony of rain on your wedding day (that's for YOU, Char) it looks like after a whole year where I could have been writing every damn day, the words chose to come with one day left before I will have an entire free day to myself until at least April...the end of hockey season.

Stupid brain.

Sometimes the Universe gives you some good stuff back...

2009-02-05T20:18:00.000-08:00

I have written a few blogs over the last year bemoaning my health, my money issues, boyfriend (or lack of) woes, my chronic pain, loneliness and unemployment.
Suffice to say, the last year has sucked it.
Some women think turning 40 is just a number and attach no real significance to it- 40 is the new 30, you're only as old as you feel blah de blah blah.
Now I don't know if it's the turning 40, or if I was just due for a bad year because I'd had 3 or 4 good ones in a row..(I'm a glass is half empty kinda chick to begin with) but I repeat, this last year sucked,
And hard.
I won't go through the litany (and bore the hell out of every one who has listened to me pontificate from the pity pot) but today, I got a little bit of the good stuff back.
I've been unemployed on a full time basis since about May, some it because of illness, some because it's no longer an employees market here, and competition is stiff -I said stiff. Heh- but it has been really tough (notice what word I didn't use) to find any barely above poverty level paying job here.
I've had to string two and three part time jobs together, over use both my credit cards and I've beaten my overdraft like a dead mule.
I've sent out over 350 Resumes, been to God knows how many interviews, and have laid a big fat dodo egg landing only a job that gave me no more than 7 5 hour shifts in an entire month.
That was until today.
As I was finishing getting ready to head out for a second interview for an HR position of 25-30 hours per week, my phone rang, and I was offered another job that I even forgot I had interviewed for as a weekend/night auditor in a bed and breakfast starting Saturday.Only part time, but still...
So off I go with a little more hop in my step to Interview two where the Managing partner tells me that she has no need to look any further, that I'm exactly who she needs and is looking for. She hires me, announcing to the ten people in the waiting room that the HR position has been filled, but that there are still sales positions available.
I start that job Monday morning. It's semi part time, but since I get to set my own schedule, I do not need to give up either the B&B job, or the Beer wench job and between the three jobs, I'll really only be putting in a 45-50 hour week, and I will be able to start to caw my way out of the Grand Canyon of debt that I've been camping out in, eating cold Spaghettios and meatballs.
It will also help with my new obsession...ebay.
See, sometimes the Universe is not too shabby after all, and the glass is looking a wee bit more half full than half empty. ( Of course,that could also be because of the big splash of Vodka I added.)

2009-02-02T21:11:00.000-08:00

My Friend and Mentor (and now worst enemy) tagged me in 25 things about me (I fucking hate tags) but here we go.

1. I have 4 cats. They annoy me endlessly.
2. I am the oldest of two girls. (I'm the fun one)
3. Women who can't drive stick shift (or drive it badly) should have one finger cut off. (their choice of finger, of course.) What am I, a Mafioso?
4. I can put me feet behind my head. (creepy, huh?)
5. I have only been in love, truly in love, twice. (that worked out well)
6. I love cheese more than any other food on Earth.
7. I am not a shoe girl, but I LOOOVE boots. (not hat I would turn down a free pair of Laboutins...)
8. I HATE Internet Explore. I'm a Firefox girl all the way.
9. Pansies are my favourite flower.
10. I am phobic of stuffed mascots. They scare the living shit out of me.
11. I love food that starts with the letter P. Pizza, Popcorn..ok you get it
12. I have never seen a single episode of lost. Nor do I care to.
13. Sometimes I will eat only orange foods for weeks. I know, weird.
14. I lived in Istanbul for 9 months and Greece for 3.
15. I swear waaaaay too much. Ah fuck it, who cares. If you know me, you know this already.
16. I despise socks.
17. I don't tuck my sheets in for the same reason I hate socks. I am afraid there will be a fire and my feet will get all tangled and I'll burn to death, which is the worst death ever. Except maybe being crucified. That would hut a lot I think.
18. Anything pink should be put in a huge pile and set on fire. Sort of like the Burning Man Festival.
19. I have 7 tattoos. No, you can't see them.
20. 2 Is my favourite number, Uneven numbers bug me.
21. The only bug/creepy crawly I am afraid of if is the earwig. Those things go in your ear and lay eggs. It's true Science. You could look it up.
22. Black is my favourite colour. it IS a colour, too. Look that up as well.
23. I suffer horribly from Insomnia. Always have.
24. Spring and Fall are my favourite seasons.
25. I spell with the U because IT IS NOT SUPERFLUOUS!!

The End.

2009-01-29T08:05:00.000-08:00

First of all, I want to apologise to all the people whose blogs, flickr pages etc that have been remiss on commenting on. Then, an apology for not blogging or being out using my spectacular new camera, and lastly, a big I'm sorry for all the whingey 3am phone calls telling you how much pain I'm in.
Really, I should be blogging like a wailing Irish banshee being as I have all this free time on my hands, but to be honest, aside from the pain, I've just been lazy.
We had like 10 inches of snow which pretty much shut our city down, but instead of writing about it, I just crawled deeper under my duvet and waited for that stupid underground rat to not see his shadow, or to see it, or whatever it is he does that means Spring is coming.
Because it' been pissy and foggy, I haven't dared take out my new camera, although I have started my"dead things" set for Char, And I hope to have it finished before the new stuff sprouts.
Thanks to a most special friend, the coolest camera bag (shown above) is on it's way to me. I love you, you, gorgeous little round egg!! (Yes, it is actually a diaper bag, but I HAD to have it, and since it's only available in the US, I needed a generous friend to order it and send it to me.)
Perhaps it will bring my photo mojo with it.
I had my surgery on Monday, thanks to all for the prayers and well wishers. The pain is still pretty bad, but I'm hoping it will pass soon.
The clutch burned out on my step father's car, luckily he is paying for it.
So, I guess it's back to ye olde job hunt with wreckless abandon, fingers crossed and all.

There, that wasn't so hard, was it?

Um, yeah, it really was.

2008-09-07T11:46:00.000-07:00

07 Sep 2008

Happy Birthday to yo...OW MOTHERFUCKER...FUCK!!
Current mood: sore
Category: possibly dying of pain Life

These are my very adorable nephews. On Friday, It was the little one's 5th Birthday. The older one (who is 7, had a challenge for me)
Since the right side of my body feel like someone ran me through with a fucking Samurai Sword, I will post a picture blog instead.

Ready?

This.........

Plus.......

This.......

Equals .......

This.

A cracked Rib and some cracked cartilage.

I think what really did me in was the little one jumping on my stomach whilst I lay on the pavement in tears praying for death.

At least I got a bunch of these......

Now I get to spend the last few Summer Days laying on the couch watching reruns of House, which I have already seen because I was sick all fucking Spring.

I hate this year.

The Needle and the damage done

2008-05-26T18:05:00.000-07:00

Watching someone you care about being devoured by their demons is perhaps the most painful thing that I think anyone ever has to go through.

I am currently watching it, and my heart is in constant pain.

It doesn't matter whether it's mental illness, or an eating disorder, or drug use, it's all the same.

Knowing that you can do nothing to help someone who doesn't want to help themselves is agonising, and knowing that it can only end two ways, either in death or the person getting well, is the coldest of comfort.

I suppose I have an even more acute understanding of both sides of this issue now, because not so long ago I was the one destroying myself, and people had to watch me, knowing that I would either get help, or die.

And there was nothing they could do to fix me.

Now, I sit in the ironic position of watching someone I care about destroy themselves more every day, and the pace of his destruction is picking up.

He looks thinner.

His face is drawn, and the bags under his eyes are stretching down toward his cheekbones.

He looks ill, and he has a sick smell that only another who came close to dying from the same choices can recognise.

I doubt he's slept in the last 48 hours.

I know he hasn't eaten, because every penny he has goes up his nose, or into his arm.

He is dying line by line, and I'm not sure he even knows it.

He stole from me to feed his demons, and while I am angry, angry enough that I considered selling his debt to someone that would probably beat him senseless for my money and then make him pay for their time, I am more saddened then pissed.

I cry for him daily, in spite of the fact my tears aren't doing him, or me, any good whatsoever.

I've been through this before, my ex was a junkie too.

But we were both using at the time, and I couldn't see past my own pain to even begin to look at his.

We were together 5 years, and almost all 5 of those years included copious amounts of dope.
I loved him, but by the end, I loved dope more, and I wasn't too concerned about what happened to him, so long as I got what I needed.

He's not clean.

In fact, I hear he's working boy's town, blowing strange men for crack.

My heart aches for him, but it's different, because I can't and don't have to see it.

I don't have to see it every day, and I wouldn't even want to dare to look for him.

But this one, this one that I gave a piece of my heart to, this one who I trusted and allowed into my house and my heart only to have him steal from me, him I have to see every day.

It won't last much longer, I know, because either he will have ripped off the wrong person and they will finally catch up with him, or he will get fired from his job, or he will disappear down that rabbit hole the way we all do when we have finally exhausted every person and every option we have.

When there is no one left to beg borrow or steal from, we bolt.

If we are still healthy enough to work, we move onto another menial, useless job, and a whole new set of people who don't know the truth of who we are.

Some end up like my ex, hustling in dark alleys for enough money to buy ten more minutes of oblivion.

Dignity is so often the first thing a junkie sells, and believe me, it doesn't come back cheap.... if it comes back at all.

Some things are just to ugly to look at in the cold light of sobriety.

Thankfully, there are some of us, when we get backed into that corner, we finally give up, and we get help.

But rarely does that help come from those who love us, because they aren't around. They got tired of watching us sit around in our self pity and self destruction and cleared out weeks or months or years before.

I want to take this boy, and really, a boy is what he is, and shake him, and yell into his face until I make him understand that he is dying, and that I may very well have been the last person who cared enough to try and help, and he pissed in my face.

But I also want to hold his head to my chest, stroke his hair and let him listen to the heart of someone who has lived where he now lives and survived. I want to give him hope, and show him that it is possible.

I can do neither of those things.

He is no longer speaking to me, because I did the unforgivable.....I talked.

I told others what he did to me, and essentially what he was doing to them.

I made sure that everyone who didn't already know he was using ( and believe me, there were not many of them) now knows.

I told the person that we work with that used to be his using buddy that he was helping him kill himself, and I told him that he was no kind of friend.

So now, he feels I have betrayed him, and will not say a word to me.Yet every day and for 8 and a half hours I am forced to work in the same place as him, to watch him stumble around with that look of the walking dead etched on his face.

And each time I see him, my own shame and guilt wells up and I think "This is what it feels like.

"This is the pain I caused others"

This is what it was like for people who loved me watch me die a little every day.

They couldn't help me.

I can't help him.

And it hurts.

My heart is so very heavy.

2008-05-20T19:18:00.000-07:00

I have cats.
A lot of them.
Shut it, Kurt and Brina.
It all started with two, and when I took one to the vet he said "don't worry, she's too younng to get pregnant"
WRONG.
She had 4.
Now the thing about kittens is you have like a 5 week window to get rid of them before they become cats.
Everyone loves kittens.
Cats, not so much.
So.
Of the 4 original, two were girls and two were boys.
Guess what, I didn't get them fixed fast enough, and ended up with three more litters.
Best part?
The one that is a boy...and fuck you, I know what testicles look like, he/it had 7 kittens.
So, I have an amazing hermaphroditic cat.
I should sell those things for like 400 dollars each, because they're like magic or some such shit.
Anyhow.
I am down to 7 again, and the adults all have appointments to get fixed VERY soon.
The rest of the kittens go tomorrow, so you can all stop calling me the crazy cat lady.
Assholes.

2008-05-13T19:04:00.000-07:00

The last six months have been incredibly up and down for me.
There have been incredibly good things (a reconciliation with my sister and my nephews becoming a part of my life) and there have been some straight up suck ass things (losing my job, losing a relationship I was sure would be the last one I ever started, because I never figured it would end) and there have been some totally weird ass things (there was an encounter with a semi famous cock that I promised NOT to blog about)
I have had two root canals, five bladder infections and found a lump in my breast.
I have owned two cars in the last six months.
I have been ripped off by the person I was sleeping with to the tune of almost 1500 dollars. It will take me three months to dig myself out of that hole.
I have had trusts broken, and have been offered friendship from people I never would have expected it from.
I have had people I had never met come half way around the world to help me nurse my broken heart and help to heal my wounds simply through friendship.
I have spoken (and written) openly about things that I never thought I would share with anyone, other than say, my shrink.
I have lost close to 30 pounds, and am about as fit as I have been since my 20's.
In the last six months I have cried harder than I have ever cried in my life, and I have laughed until I actually peed my pants a little bit.
I have felt like I was losing my mind, and I have questioned my own sanity more than once.
I have remembered (at least I hope I have) to tell the people that I love that I love them, and I have tried my best not to cause hurt to the hearts of others.
I have tried to be grateful at least once a day, and although some people may think I failed, I have tried to be gracious in the face of the actions of others that caused me pain.
Despite my best efforts to piss away almost four years without drugs, I have managed to fend off the demons that laid me so low just a few short years ago.
I started taking stock of shit a month or so ago, because I am fast approaching my 40th birthday, and although it is no longer the milestone it was for the generation before mine, it still feels symbolic.
To be honest, I don't know what to make of most of it.
Had you asked me at 20 if this is where I'd be at 40, I would have said "Fuck, no" (not that I had any idea where I would be....but still...it sure as shit wasn't here)
And then yesterday someone at work asked me if I am happy.
I started with my stock answer which is , "Well, I'm not terribly unhappy..."
And I stopped.
I told the person the truth.
I said, "Some days I am happy. Other days, I am the epitome of fucking misery, and it is best to steer clear of me on those days"
He asked how he should be able to tell the difference.
And when I thought about it, I guess the truth is, there feels like there is so little distance between happiness and misery for me that I could never even warn someone before the tide were about to turn.
I'm not even sure when it's going to happen myself.
Yet despite that teeter tottery feeling, I am more mentally stable than I have been since, like, ever.
My medication still works for me.
I get out of bed every day, even when I don't have to.
I try go to the gym almost every day. I try to read more and watch less mindless TV.
I try to remember how even though the last six months have had more bad then good in them, I have seen and lived worse.
Much, much worse.
And I suppose as I slide down towards forty, that's about the best I can hope for.

2008-03-19T05:17:00.000-07:00

I like this page, because I know there are very few people who read it, and so if I choose, I can say things on here that I'm either not willing or ready to put out for myspace consumption.
So, it's kind of like confession. Baring in mind of course that I'm not, nor have I ever been Catholic, which given the context of this blog is probably a good thing, because the content of the blog, and the actions that inspired it pretty much put me on a fast track train headed straight for hell.
Woo Woo!! (that's the slutty train, in case you were wondering)
So, hello to the two people I know are reading this for sure, and since one of you asked for the story and the other is currently staying in my house, I think it may at least be mildly interesting, or at least a good way to waste 3.6 minutes. (It's not going to be a long blog, and since I know my friends can read real good...)
Anyhow.
I'm tired, so don't expect too much.
I have not had sex since June 27 2007.
That's not a record for me, I once went almost three years, but it's still a sucky ass long time to go, and "those" feelings have been creeping up on me for the last week or so.
Now I suppose it could be because I went on the date with the oil and lube boy *snicker* from my new job last week and we kissed but did not "consummate" the new relationship, which is weird for me, because I like to get the sex part out of the way early, you know, in case it sucks, I don't want to be tooo invested, or it could be that ever since I turned 35, I have been somewhat insatiable where my sexual appetite is concerned. Or it could be that I finally feel my heart recovering from the thrashing the last person I was with gave it, and I'm ready to get back on the horse (not that I like that kind of thing you understand)
God, could this take any longer you ask?
Fuck off, I'm getting there.
Yesterday was a boring ass day at work to begin with, I managed to be completely ineffective at the time management thing and got all of my work done by noon, and it didn't help that O&L boy walked by my office all 6 foot 5 inches of yumminess that he is and blew me a kiss, but about half way through the day, I was fairly sliding off my chair thinking about climbing up onto the mountain of a man and..well...claiming the land in the name of Canada to put it politely.
Because I am not supposed to "fraternise" with the mechanics, and workplace politics demand that our relationship stay away from the workplace, I couldn't just go up to him and tell him to meet me in the bathroom so I could bang his brains out against the sink, could I?
So instead, I oh so very subtly suggested that he meet me in the closet off the parts department for a little kissin' and gropin'.
He was amenable to this arrangement, and we agreed to meet up in 20 minutes.
Unfortunately, he was called to actually go do some work, so all I got was a quick smooch and a bit of an ass grab, but he said that he would drive me over the bridge after work (which is at least part of my bus from hell commute) and I said "groovy" figuring that traffic might at least allow for a little more..um...kissing.
I was finished before him, and I'm not sure if it was while I waited or when I got into the car and could smell his sweaty work scent (I loooove that smell. A man who has laboured all day is like one giant pheromone to me) but at some point before we drove out of the auto mall I told him.
" I want your cock in my mouth"
Not very subtle, but fuck it. I wanted what I wanted.
"Drive up that dead end street" I told him.
Of course we never made it to the end of the street, cause I had that boy out of his pants and in my mouth before he turned left.
There is something so filthy about any sexual act that is performed in a semi public place, and it is made sexier by the fact that you might get caught.
Whether it was that, or the length of time, or the need, or that I am really attracted to this guy, I don't know.
But this was no varsity blow job.
I went all pro on this one, baby.
If talent scouts from pornos had seen me, Jenna Jamieson would be out of a job today.
Suffice to say, he was done pretty damn quick.
I would like to think it was my mad skillz and not the fact that he hasn't gotten any in the last 6 months or so.
So I'm going to go with that and end here, mostly because the witty ending I had planned has died along with my sleep deprived brain.
I will, however, have a hard time not yelling "ROAD HEAD RULEZ!!" when I see him this morning.

2008-03-16T19:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I really question my own sanity.
I mean, I have managed to make it through a shit load of years on what I can only guess is survival mode, because I have certainly made some piss poor choices that have lead me into some pretty shit ass situations.
That being said however, I think the majority of the damage was perpetrated upon my own person. I mean, I don't think that I was ever intentionally cruel, I was never a bully that's for sure, and the hurt I inflicted...well, let's just say that on the scale of damage people do to each other, I think I still fit in the lower end of the rankings. At least I hope that I do. I suppose if you were to ask the people I have hurt, you may get a slightly different answer, but I really do think that for the most part, I've been a pretty decent person when it came to the handling of others. I know that most of the time I tried to put the feelings of others if not first, at least I'm pretty sure I considered them at the same time as my own, and I really do think that I imagined what some of the things I did or said would feel like were the shoe on the other foot, and I hope that I made different choices because of that thought process.
So when I add all that up (and bare in mind that math is NOT my strong suit) I wonder where the fuck this Karmic debt I seem to have incurred comes from.
I must have really pissed someone off a few lifetimes ago, because I swear some days I may as well be a goddamned maggot on the corpse of a two week old dog in the ditch.
Now don't get me wrong.
I'm not a victim.
And I am fully responsible for the choices that I make, and the people that I choose to make those choices with or around.
But... holy fuck.
Some days I just wonder if perhaps my intelligence is sub simian, because I seem to make the same choices over and over again.
I fall for the same bullshit stories, and with only slight variations each time, I keep getting my heart run over by emotional dump trucks.
I am drawn to the same people.
I make the same poor choices in friends and lovers.
Me.
I do.
And so I guess that's why today (actually this started yesterday) I'm wondering if there isn't something severely wrong with my ability to make choices about things and people.
Because it can't be everyone else, can it?
I mean I am driving this bus, at least most of the time, right?
So either I'm a moron, or I owe like 98% interest on a several million dollar Karmic debt, or...
I'm crazy.

2008-03-15T10:27:00.000-07:00

I love the beginning part.
You know, the start when you’re not really sure where it’s going, or if it’s even going to go anywhere?
When you want to spend all the time you can with them, stand as close to them as possible drawing in their smell to recall later. Memorising the way their lip curls just slightly on the right side when they smile, especially when that smile is just for you?
When looking at them makes your heart beat just a little faster and you almost feel like there’s less oxygen in the immediate atmosphere because it gets a little harder to take a really deep breath.
When it feels like there are just not enough hours in the day or enough words in the entire English language to share all the thoughts that are bubbling up trying to burst free.
When he puts his hands on your waist for the first time and it makes you feel safe and protected, and you think in the back of your mind about the guy who’s been trying to look down the front of your shirt all night is going to finally realise that you belong to someone else and that he should probably just move on down the bar.
When the first kiss tastes so sweet that it threatens to send you into insulin shock, and you know that you will never forget it, that memory is placed firmly in the "wonderful moments" part of your brain that if you could see it would look sort of like an old shoe box, but is really more like a treasure chest of happiness.
When you can’t wait for the phone to ring, or to here a car in the drive, or a knock at the door.
Or a thousand other things that suddenly make the sun shine a little brighter, make the music sound a little better, and make the air seem that much cleaner.
When the shift happens and your heart which just a short time ago was a wounded, damaged animal that would never heal and wanted to crawl into a dark and cold place away from the whole world starts to look more like a tiny creature taking its first tentative steps back into the world again.
Yeah, I love the beginning part.

Sometimes...

2008-03-10T07:15:00.001-07:00

Current mood: contemplative
Category: Life

Shitty things happen for what seem like no good reason at all.
People move in and out of your life, you lose jobs, a whole bunch of crap ass motherfucking illnesses happen one right after the other...and man, it looks like your life could not suck any worse.
But then....ever so slowly at first, changes start to happen. It feels like it's taking forfuckingever, but the pace starts to pick up. s-l-o-w as fuck, but at least it's no longer stagnant to the point where you sit on the couch and cry enough tears to overflow Lake Titicaca.
The deep pain takes time. A lot of fucking time.
You don't forget the pain of the last few months, and you still grieve the loss of love, you still miss the person that has left your life almost every minute, and you start to second guess what you could have done differently, if the relationship could have been fixed or saved...... your ego still smarts because you get fired from a job,(even though the job sucked hairy donkey cock and you're better off without it..but still, it stings.
Your health still isn't 100%..and when you get rid of one thing, inevitably another one pops up (DAMN YOU TO HELL DEFECTIVE URINARY TRACT!!)
But...
It gets a little better every day.
I know this seems a little vague, and I will add some more details when I'm not so fucking exhausted, but since people have been asking....I'm ok.
I'm not great, and I'm miles from great, but I'm as ok as I can be for now.
xoxo

Currently listening :
Better Days
By Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes
Release date: By 25 August, 1998