IPOD
RADIO
I have a friend that may have just gone crazy. She's teetered for awhile on the brink, said for years that she's bipolar. But she has fallen into such a deep depression. It annoys the piss out of me.
Let me explain...
I am in therapy right now though I'm starting to believe I don't need it (or it means the therapy is working, not sure yet). This friend hasn't had the best of lives though as far as anything truly detrimental happening to her she says there's nothing. No abuse, no dependencies. Nothing but possible chemical imbalance. In fact, the only "bad" that has happened in her life she did herself. She forced a man to marry her and wanted his child at 21, to wait would make her too old, she thought. After years of marriage neither of these things that would complete her brings satisfaction. I'm trying to find the point where this suffering began for her. She endured at least two miscarriages before bearing her son. I'd almost say it was that far back, before actually giving birth. But she has always been... prone to manic behavior. She literally beat the shit out of her husband because he let his ex baby momma in their house once when she was picking up his older son. It is my thought that she has suffered from abandonment issues and doesn't feel anyone truly wants or loves her.
Apparently my email telling her that the reason her and I don't stay in touch, which she laments, is because she doesn't. That was when she informed me how even balled up in bed she can't do anything right.
I know depression is a personal thing. Everyone feels it differently and for different reasons. But the issue she has, of not being cared and loved for is bullshit. She is loved. But because her son doesn't listen to her ALL the time he doesn't love her and would be better off without her. Granted, I'm not the best person for her to unload on. I've been fucked over in relationships, I haven't had a fucking relationship in over ten years now, and she possesses all those things I always thought would make my life complete. She is fucking living my dream, the dream she said she always wanted and is unhappy with it. All I ever wanted was someone who gave a damn. Even if she can't get such from her family, I've always been nearby to lend support. But listening to the same laments and seeing her make no moves to resolve them is not support.
Yes, this post is cruel. But my thought of depression is simple. At least for me, it's a longing for something that is lacking in life. You see it in stroke victims who have become burdens on their families or cancer patients who have no family and will die alone. That is my fear: to die alone without ever being able to share a life with someone/someones. I am alone, I am in a deadend job. I have felt the bite of a razor and tasted the gun barrel. It's because I don't matter. Never have. I have therapy to help me come to grips with that and move on with my life. My friend, on the other hand, needs therapy or something (fuck drugs, they don't do shit) to help her be happy with what she has. And that's bogus
Let me explain...
I am in therapy right now though I'm starting to believe I don't need it (or it means the therapy is working, not sure yet). This friend hasn't had the best of lives though as far as anything truly detrimental happening to her she says there's nothing. No abuse, no dependencies. Nothing but possible chemical imbalance. In fact, the only "bad" that has happened in her life she did herself. She forced a man to marry her and wanted his child at 21, to wait would make her too old, she thought. After years of marriage neither of these things that would complete her brings satisfaction. I'm trying to find the point where this suffering began for her. She endured at least two miscarriages before bearing her son. I'd almost say it was that far back, before actually giving birth. But she has always been... prone to manic behavior. She literally beat the shit out of her husband because he let his ex baby momma in their house once when she was picking up his older son. It is my thought that she has suffered from abandonment issues and doesn't feel anyone truly wants or loves her.
Apparently my email telling her that the reason her and I don't stay in touch, which she laments, is because she doesn't. That was when she informed me how even balled up in bed she can't do anything right.
I know depression is a personal thing. Everyone feels it differently and for different reasons. But the issue she has, of not being cared and loved for is bullshit. She is loved. But because her son doesn't listen to her ALL the time he doesn't love her and would be better off without her. Granted, I'm not the best person for her to unload on. I've been fucked over in relationships, I haven't had a fucking relationship in over ten years now, and she possesses all those things I always thought would make my life complete. She is fucking living my dream, the dream she said she always wanted and is unhappy with it. All I ever wanted was someone who gave a damn. Even if she can't get such from her family, I've always been nearby to lend support. But listening to the same laments and seeing her make no moves to resolve them is not support.
Yes, this post is cruel. But my thought of depression is simple. At least for me, it's a longing for something that is lacking in life. You see it in stroke victims who have become burdens on their families or cancer patients who have no family and will die alone. That is my fear: to die alone without ever being able to share a life with someone/someones. I am alone, I am in a deadend job. I have felt the bite of a razor and tasted the gun barrel. It's because I don't matter. Never have. I have therapy to help me come to grips with that and move on with my life. My friend, on the other hand, needs therapy or something (fuck drugs, they don't do shit) to help her be happy with what she has. And that's bogus
With the new way to view music and album art in iTunes I've spent more time than I should have collecting such artwork and applying it to the tracks I acquired by "other" means (which includes eMusic downloads and my own CDs, don't judge me as you burn that CD-R!). Looking for the artwork for a song done by Beth Orton and Orbit and found out it was on a sampler CD that came from the UK mag Uncut. Being they didn't have a cover to their sampler CD I had to peruse some art on their website, including previous issues. I stumbled upon this one...
The Fly is my hero
The Fly is my hero
The other day I was kinda, sorta, in a way, almost compared to Mozart. Except he was a child prodigy, a genius and dead at 36 (five years to go!) But the guy who said it spent 20+ years in opera, performed Mozart many of those years and pursued Mozart even further when he switched focus to psychology (see The Magic Flute). So from that aspect I'm very flattered.
He explained the element of the play Amadeus (no theatre performing it around here so Netflix is delivering the movie form to me... dammit, too; that means I have to see F. Murray Abraham in a role besides High Inquisitor, the only role I think he's played SEVERAL TIMES IN SEVERAL MOVIES besides Salieri). Salieri is the big fish until Mozart comes around. Suffice to say he doesn't care much for Mozart once people learn of his ability. Salieri prays devoutly and has always asked God for talent. After falling into obscurity while Mozart thrives, Salieri turns on God saying he is now the enemy: Salieri only ever prayed for talent yet God had given that Austrian idiot genius
I do not doubt the genius of Mozart though one has to ponder, as the one I was speaking with said we will always have to, if he is more a genius for dying young. What would he have become if he lived to a ripe old age? Is genius enough to carry us? Is genius always superior to talent?
I have had the issue all my life of striving for perfection. I can't remember it someone instilled it in me, obviously not my less-than-perfect parents, or if this is an internal strife that I created myself. And in my mind perfection is being genius. I am no genius. I find that greatly troubling; so much so that, permit me the fancy of being talented, I cannot pursue my talent for I know I will always fall short of a genius, short of perfection. Mozart was a shattered soul. Because of his genius, however, he pieced himself back together in less than four decades of life, it all culminating upon viewing his last opera, The Magic Flute, which many say is the rejoining of his psyche in musical form. He died shortly after it premiered, professing that he understood it all.
Most people never reach that level of self awareness, of completeness. Most never have to weather the Hell it is to concern yourself so deeply with the fundamental roots of our beings. Every artist has to and many of those fail to find it. Mozart did, at an early age. Personally, I find it difficult to strive for that perfection anymore. Because surely one can't survive once reaching such enlightenment. So if one never follows the path one doesn't have to face that end. It's not a fear of death, I came to grips with that long ago. It's the thought that once you realize everything that is when you must let it all go. Perhaps that's the way of the universe; perfection has no place in the mortal realm.
I'm really starting to wonder if Buddha knew what he was talking about.
He explained the element of the play Amadeus (no theatre performing it around here so Netflix is delivering the movie form to me... dammit, too; that means I have to see F. Murray Abraham in a role besides High Inquisitor, the only role I think he's played SEVERAL TIMES IN SEVERAL MOVIES besides Salieri). Salieri is the big fish until Mozart comes around. Suffice to say he doesn't care much for Mozart once people learn of his ability. Salieri prays devoutly and has always asked God for talent. After falling into obscurity while Mozart thrives, Salieri turns on God saying he is now the enemy: Salieri only ever prayed for talent yet God had given that Austrian idiot genius
I do not doubt the genius of Mozart though one has to ponder, as the one I was speaking with said we will always have to, if he is more a genius for dying young. What would he have become if he lived to a ripe old age? Is genius enough to carry us? Is genius always superior to talent?
I have had the issue all my life of striving for perfection. I can't remember it someone instilled it in me, obviously not my less-than-perfect parents, or if this is an internal strife that I created myself. And in my mind perfection is being genius. I am no genius. I find that greatly troubling; so much so that, permit me the fancy of being talented, I cannot pursue my talent for I know I will always fall short of a genius, short of perfection. Mozart was a shattered soul. Because of his genius, however, he pieced himself back together in less than four decades of life, it all culminating upon viewing his last opera, The Magic Flute, which many say is the rejoining of his psyche in musical form. He died shortly after it premiered, professing that he understood it all.
Most people never reach that level of self awareness, of completeness. Most never have to weather the Hell it is to concern yourself so deeply with the fundamental roots of our beings. Every artist has to and many of those fail to find it. Mozart did, at an early age. Personally, I find it difficult to strive for that perfection anymore. Because surely one can't survive once reaching such enlightenment. So if one never follows the path one doesn't have to face that end. It's not a fear of death, I came to grips with that long ago. It's the thought that once you realize everything that is when you must let it all go. Perhaps that's the way of the universe; perfection has no place in the mortal realm.
I'm really starting to wonder if Buddha knew what he was talking about.
a coworker came in this morning and began talking about how these scientists had created a small black hole, in an attempt to reenact the beginning of the universe. Now I know that the two topics you don't talk about are politics and religion. The other coworker there this morning obviously doesn't know this tidbit of a safe and meaningful life. This is not a debate about divine origin or Darwinism; this is just a comment that when someone comes in sharing the news, like she does every morning about what she had heard on the way in, do not take the time to input. This girl scoffed at the scientists "Know how the universe was made? GOD!!" See, this is it, you little bitch. There's a large part of the scientific community who do not believe in God or gods or anything. Just science. So it would be pointless for them to try to understand your God and makes much more sense for them to use science to try to create what they think science created. Why is it so important for you to interject your Belief mechanics into a story that does not threaten them nor concerns them. If they proved the universe was formed by science you'd still scoff and say God did it. Fine. You don't believe the Big Bang. Fine. Our coworker probably doesn't either but what the scientists accomplished, despite their goals, was deemed interesting.
When this girl had finished mumbling about God the other coworker commented that she was kinda rooting for the scientists... she figured a new Creation would at least get her out of work today. No Darwinistic probe. Just an update of the scientific world and how it could benefit us.
When this girl had finished mumbling about God the other coworker commented that she was kinda rooting for the scientists... she figured a new Creation would at least get her out of work today. No Darwinistic probe. Just an update of the scientific world and how it could benefit us.
If I have one more bitch of a decrepit old woman come into the hospital whispering racial slurs to me, like just because we're both white we're part of a secret society with the same beliefs and mindset, I'm going to have to tell her to fuck off, that I'm not going to monitor her diseased heart in the hopes that she dies for the world will be better off once her myopic generational sect of haters are dead. The only thing worse than white, black, yellow, green, red that live up to the stereotypes connected to them are the fucking bitches that actually still believe them.
I've got to get out of this job. I'm going to tell someone off very soon and not have a choice in the matter.
I've got to get out of this job. I'm going to tell someone off very soon and not have a choice in the matter.
In movies and cartoons everyone is always going to the supermarket to get eggs, bread and milk. Those are about the only things I don't get. Milk spoils, bread molds or gets hard and I don't trust eggs (do they spoil? I don't know!)
Anyways, it's an old stereotype. How about the new collections of necessities be something like bottled water, rice and yogurt? Beer, burgers and Slim Jims? Tea, rice and chicken?
I don't know, I spend too much on groceries. Then when I run out of something I usually just opt to make nachos.
Anyways, it's an old stereotype. How about the new collections of necessities be something like bottled water, rice and yogurt? Beer, burgers and Slim Jims? Tea, rice and chicken?
I don't know, I spend too much on groceries. Then when I run out of something I usually just opt to make nachos.
I visited my family a couple weekends ago. My brother wanted to compare WOW characters. I showed him my female Bloodelf Paladin (yeah, I'm one of those, shutup) wearing Outrunner leggings (which is basically panties and swaths of mail on the thighs) he put a finger to the screen of my MBP (didn't touch it, he would've had to die for that) right at her crotch and said, "scratch and sniff."
What. The. Fuck?! Seriously, what kind of retard, bucktoothed asshole gesture is that? Why the fuck would a person think it important to share such? I'm not a woman and I'm fucking offended by this neanderthal of my blood.
Perhaps I'm out of touch. I don't think fart jokes are funny and I don't like the over-placement of bodily functions in everyday speech.
My therapist tells me I'm not allowed to be around my brother anymore. I asked if that could include my father he said yes, it could. Now I have reason to stay away from at least two assholes.
What. The. Fuck?! Seriously, what kind of retard, bucktoothed asshole gesture is that? Why the fuck would a person think it important to share such? I'm not a woman and I'm fucking offended by this neanderthal of my blood.
Perhaps I'm out of touch. I don't think fart jokes are funny and I don't like the over-placement of bodily functions in everyday speech.
My therapist tells me I'm not allowed to be around my brother anymore. I asked if that could include my father he said yes, it could. Now I have reason to stay away from at least two assholes.
101º temp., severe drainage from the sinuses, rattle in lungs. These are symptoms of "crud.' I have little problem with my coworkers using this term but it's hard to see my primary healthcare provider use it. Um, could you tell my professionally what "crud" is, FNP? Sinus infection? Bronchitis? Somewhere headed towards strep? Nope, sorry, you've got the "crud." This is why I tried to stop going to her in the first place. I just had no reason to go to a provider again before now so I ended up there. I got my antibiotics, Nasonex (which I really suggest to anyone... I began breathing better than anytime I remember after shooting that stuff up my nose) and was told to get mucinex. The pharmacist, a first cousin twice removed, told me it was a waste of money. Hey, at least I had someone on my side.
And I called out of work. Haahahahahahahahahaaa! Amazing how much that alone made me feel better.
I tried to trick a coworker, a nurse out on the floor, into taking her photograph. She didn't scream and run away. She let me do it. Meanwhile another monitor tech when I did the same to her kept herself hidden long after I put my phone away. What is this aversion to having a picture taken? What does it matter when it comes down to it? Reminds me of what Bono said: "Don't think before you laugh, look ugly in a photograph." Vanity can be a bitch sometimes.
And I called out of work. Haahahahahahahahahaaa! Amazing how much that alone made me feel better.
I tried to trick a coworker, a nurse out on the floor, into taking her photograph. She didn't scream and run away. She let me do it. Meanwhile another monitor tech when I did the same to her kept herself hidden long after I put my phone away. What is this aversion to having a picture taken? What does it matter when it comes down to it? Reminds me of what Bono said: "Don't think before you laugh, look ugly in a photograph." Vanity can be a bitch sometimes.
OCTOBER 2008