nirbhao

this is the response I got from blogspot about my stolen images:

they go on with their contact information, etc., but it is insanely frustrating.

in between the time that I decided I needed to put together the letter for the asshats at blogspot and the time that I had my planner open to write it in my to-do list, I forgot what I needed to write down. I sat with my planner in my lap, trying to remember what it was that I need to do tomorrow (I came up with a few other things), and I got to the point of swearing because I could not remember why I got the book out.

it seems as if it is getting worse every day. I called on Wednesday to get a prescription for cognitive rehabilitation. it can't happen soon enough.

I had a phone interview for another collections position at a bank on Friday. I have applications in at a few other places that I know are hiring, like Best Buy, and I desperately hope something comes through. I had given myself until tomorrow to go back to driving taxi.



I was denied for unemployment. getting that letter hurt for reasons that... well. I ruined so much by going off my medication. I don't know if I can fix it.

I fantasize about being discovered as this incredibly capable employee and getting this incredibly fantastic job and I let myself day dream about it. I do. I think about how cool it would be to be-- I don't know-- expected to come up with solutions for problems and to be able to do it. to be given assignments with minimal direction and to go out and to do a kickass job. it's actually very sad how badly I want that.

but tomorrow I'll go see about driving taxi. at least with that job I get to give myself a lot of pep talks.

I spent the weekend with my family, some of whom were visiting from Scotland. ironically enough, my uncle from Scotland did not bring a kilt, so it was just the American men in kilts.

Saturday night I snuck off to Clutch Cargo and I actually got to see people other than my family! although, apparently I missed my grandma doing a shot of jager, so it's a good thing I had a damn good time.

EvanX already had his pants on for the night's other activities, and so I finally got to do more than hear him protesting from another room. I also met SYH and Kira, the latter of whom I had never actually communicated with but was very friendly; the former of whom I had a pretty good idea who I was meeting. let's just say I wasn't disappointed. I know there was someone else, but I only remember his real name and I doubt I should plaster that all over cyberspace. and of course I just can't get enough of MistressMissy over here on the west side of the state, so it's a good thing we met up on the other side of the glove. now we just need to get some Brandywine!

depechemode.com

when Playing the Angel came out, Nothing's Impossible was without hesitation my favorite song. I have to admit that the fact that Dave Gahan wrote it made me turn up my nose for about two seconds, but, as I've said before and as I will say again, his genius is in his simplicity. plus, Martin Gore plays a fucking stellar guitar solo, so I was satisfied that my guy got a good part.

it became the "our song" for, what I say very sadly, one of the healthiest, most loving relationships I've had in my life. due to certain situational circumstances (money), I stopped taking my anti-depressants. I was off them for a week, bit the bullet and paid for a week's prescription, and then went back off for three weeks. two months later, I'm still enduring the fallout.

I lost my job. I lost my partner. everything in my life fell to ruins.

I didn't realize how irrational I was being.

if things had, you know, gotten as horribly bad as they did between my ex and I and then we found our way back to our supportive, loving environment of togetherness, choosing this song as our song would be quite poignant -- almost prophetic. instead, it's just ironic.

this is pertinent not because of the person but because right now, so much is broken and I want to be able to fix it and I am just begging the universe for a chance to fix anything-- for a miracle-- to go back-- I so FUCKING BADLY want to believe that I can fix anything that I've broken in my life. it's not actually a love song. it's a life song. it's a life song for people like me.

Dave Gahan got over herion. maybe I just need to make him my hero for right now because he wrote these words and he's been in the pits of hell and he has found love in this world after coming through it. instead of avoiding the song because it makes me think of my ex, I need to know that I can have things that good again. I just need to remember that it's not a love song.

I need to remember why I still wear my wedding band. I need to take care of myself first. I need to love me again.

I used to have nightmares so vivd that they would leave me emotionally disturbed throughout the day. since my heart surgery, I've only had really vivid dreams a few times. last night was one of them, and they were some of the most disgusting, horrifying, ugly dreams I have ever had. it was as if they were condensed.

I dreamt that while in Clutch Cargo, while very intoxicated, I encountered a cousin and her husband. he has always been a bit overly affectionate with me, but in my dream he was agressively hitting on me. for some stupid reason, my only reason for hesitating was that my cousin was right there, and when I told him this, he suggested that she should join us. this dream became quite the debauchery adventure, and not in a pretty way.

I dreamt that the hotel we stayed in over the weekend became some sort of refugee camp, and it was flooding outside, but everyone there spoke Farsi and so I was riding in the elevators (which just would not go fast enough!) trying to relay messages between my mom, who was up on the fourth floor, and the refugees who were making space for themselves on the hallways on the ground floor. as I was doing this, parts of the hotel were being shut down and closed off in such a permanent way that I was afraid for my life of being trapped behind one of these areas.

when I woke up, I seriously wondered whether some of these things had actually happened-- they were that vivid. I was worried that I had been drugged or gotten drunk enough to get high (I haven't used anything other than alcohol and nicotine in years) and that I had seriously changed some family dynamics. I have no clue what caused the nightmares to resurface, but I hope it was extremely temporary.