The things I got from my family
are a hinky heart and a hot temper,
a dark brooding streak and a propensity
to be alone; leave me alone, but listen
They were aggressively smart people
Good looking and full of seductive power
Careless and hurtful. Don't take it personally
It's all in your head. Snap out of it!
The house came tripped to crumble five years
Into the second great depression when I was
Finally left alone in the forest here at the back
Hiding on the alley locked and gated all but invisible
Just me and the dogs waiting
For the loud roar in the quiet of a late summer night
When the house implodes with it's secrets intact
And the roof comes tumbling down
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Twitter and My Bipolar Disorder
I woke up this morning feeling like the air was the weight and density of molasses. I felt like depression had claimed me and as I sat on the toilet I thought the next thing I should do is call my therapist and ask for an antidepressant change. But first I got coffee, slammed back a hand full of pills, and then the tall boy's girlfriend came out to visit the dogs. She's very sweet and smart. I love the energy these young people have. She's working on a studying film making at the U. (I was a film student there a year or two after the program began). They're having another dinner party this weekend. I heartily approve. When she left the phone rang. It was my friend Esther. Talking with her cheered me up even though we both just complained about one thing and another. She's far more cheerful and optimistic than I, but she'd had a pipe burst in her bathroom and needed a plumber, quick. I have a handyman who can do it all and I gave her his number.
I checked the weather forecast and realized I'd need to mow the lawn, and soon. Snow is forecast for this weekend in the foothills and higher. It won't stick, but still, it's almost summer. But when I stopped to check my email and look in on twitter I realized today is Friday. Fridays are celebrated on twitter with the hashtag #FF or #ff which means Follow Friday or FollowFriday. I had a bunch of follow Friday messages. I know it sounds very silly, but it's a way of letting your favorites know you appreciate them. So there are people who think of me as a favorite. People say good night to each other on twitter. People listen in and then let you know they wish you well, or hope things get better soon. People encourage one another and flirt with one another and tease each other, even as we tweet our reaction to politics and disasters. Even as we pass on breaking news stories. I've heard more news reported first there, often hours before I hear it on MSNBC or NPR. It's always exciting and interesting on twitter. I follow some very intelligent, funny and passionate people on twitter. They inform and entertain me. Life is sometimes more real on twitter than it is in the meatworld. I love the written word. Twitter is all about concise use of language. Twitter is pithy at it's best. Roger Ebert is really great on twitter. Can you feel how visceral my reaction to a dose of twitter is? Speak the written word. Forget rules. Write like you talk. I'm off and running.
So I'm no longer mired in the molasses like atmosphere of depression. In fact I may be rapid-cycling a bit. A transitional position on the bipolar roller coaster of tripping from pole to pole. It's hard to be around someone who is rapid-cycling because they will be motor-mouthed and oblivious of the needs of others. But on twitter I can have conversations with ten or twenty people about many different topics. It's a fast fast world on twitter. Perfect for the woman rapidly swinging from pole to pole of her bipolar disorder. "Disorder" is such a great word for it. When one is "rapid-cycling" there is very little order and what order there is can be smashed in a second by the next mood swing.
When I went outside to mow the lawn the lawnmower gas cap was missing. The tank was empty too. This made me angry at myself, since I was the last person, the only person to use the lawnmower, After I filled the gas tank I went in the house and bitched about the missing gas cap on twitter. When I came in after mowing the lawn there was a message to me with a warning from a tweeter about getting a replacement for the missing gas cap, with a command to do it soon. I'd used tinfoil to fashion a temporary cap. There's a risk of flash fire when you're mowing sans gas cap. Good thing I'd finished. And I won't use it again until I get a replacement. Thanks, friends from twitter. You changed my attitude and helped me keep from sinking into the quicksand of depression. Or maybe my drugs are working better than I thought. Maybe both.
I seem alright tonight. But who knows about tomorrow. I could wake up unable to pull myself out of the quicksand, unable to tell the difference between being tired and being depressed, because depression often begins like any other illness. It aches all over, it hurts to move, light is too bright, the dark might be the only comfort. It might be impossible to speak without slurring words. It might last an hour or a year.
It's an intricate dance we bipolar people perform with all the passion we can muster. Please understand, those of you who are not afflicted with this monster of an illness, but live with someone who is, that, in as much as everything is in one's head, this too could be said to be "all in my head." Ok, I'll give you that. It's all in my head. But no one can simply snap out of an illness. Only the illness can snap you out of it, and the illness can turn you into a tireless, cheerful, organizing wizard or it can turn you into a hot tempered shouting, sobbing mess so fast there seems to be no precipitating event. Would anyone choose to feel this way if they could choose the way they felt? Certainly not, especially if one lives in a disapproving and shaming family. It's painful to know that those you love find you embarrassing or think you're lazy and self indulgent.
There are times when this illness is wonderful. It bestows a certain access to a world of creativity that I never want to be cured of. Sometimes, in a blissful moment, I think I would choose to be this way, but then I live alone. I can do what I please on my schedule. I think for me it is easier. There is no one shaming me for my mental illness. There is no one calling me lazy, moody, too loud, acting crazy. There is no one yelling at me to "SNAP OUT OF IT!"
I checked the weather forecast and realized I'd need to mow the lawn, and soon. Snow is forecast for this weekend in the foothills and higher. It won't stick, but still, it's almost summer. But when I stopped to check my email and look in on twitter I realized today is Friday. Fridays are celebrated on twitter with the hashtag #FF or #ff which means Follow Friday or FollowFriday. I had a bunch of follow Friday messages. I know it sounds very silly, but it's a way of letting your favorites know you appreciate them. So there are people who think of me as a favorite. People say good night to each other on twitter. People listen in and then let you know they wish you well, or hope things get better soon. People encourage one another and flirt with one another and tease each other, even as we tweet our reaction to politics and disasters. Even as we pass on breaking news stories. I've heard more news reported first there, often hours before I hear it on MSNBC or NPR. It's always exciting and interesting on twitter. I follow some very intelligent, funny and passionate people on twitter. They inform and entertain me. Life is sometimes more real on twitter than it is in the meatworld. I love the written word. Twitter is all about concise use of language. Twitter is pithy at it's best. Roger Ebert is really great on twitter. Can you feel how visceral my reaction to a dose of twitter is? Speak the written word. Forget rules. Write like you talk. I'm off and running.
So I'm no longer mired in the molasses like atmosphere of depression. In fact I may be rapid-cycling a bit. A transitional position on the bipolar roller coaster of tripping from pole to pole. It's hard to be around someone who is rapid-cycling because they will be motor-mouthed and oblivious of the needs of others. But on twitter I can have conversations with ten or twenty people about many different topics. It's a fast fast world on twitter. Perfect for the woman rapidly swinging from pole to pole of her bipolar disorder. "Disorder" is such a great word for it. When one is "rapid-cycling" there is very little order and what order there is can be smashed in a second by the next mood swing.
When I went outside to mow the lawn the lawnmower gas cap was missing. The tank was empty too. This made me angry at myself, since I was the last person, the only person to use the lawnmower, After I filled the gas tank I went in the house and bitched about the missing gas cap on twitter. When I came in after mowing the lawn there was a message to me with a warning from a tweeter about getting a replacement for the missing gas cap, with a command to do it soon. I'd used tinfoil to fashion a temporary cap. There's a risk of flash fire when you're mowing sans gas cap. Good thing I'd finished. And I won't use it again until I get a replacement. Thanks, friends from twitter. You changed my attitude and helped me keep from sinking into the quicksand of depression. Or maybe my drugs are working better than I thought. Maybe both.
I seem alright tonight. But who knows about tomorrow. I could wake up unable to pull myself out of the quicksand, unable to tell the difference between being tired and being depressed, because depression often begins like any other illness. It aches all over, it hurts to move, light is too bright, the dark might be the only comfort. It might be impossible to speak without slurring words. It might last an hour or a year.
It's an intricate dance we bipolar people perform with all the passion we can muster. Please understand, those of you who are not afflicted with this monster of an illness, but live with someone who is, that, in as much as everything is in one's head, this too could be said to be "all in my head." Ok, I'll give you that. It's all in my head. But no one can simply snap out of an illness. Only the illness can snap you out of it, and the illness can turn you into a tireless, cheerful, organizing wizard or it can turn you into a hot tempered shouting, sobbing mess so fast there seems to be no precipitating event. Would anyone choose to feel this way if they could choose the way they felt? Certainly not, especially if one lives in a disapproving and shaming family. It's painful to know that those you love find you embarrassing or think you're lazy and self indulgent.
There are times when this illness is wonderful. It bestows a certain access to a world of creativity that I never want to be cured of. Sometimes, in a blissful moment, I think I would choose to be this way, but then I live alone. I can do what I please on my schedule. I think for me it is easier. There is no one shaming me for my mental illness. There is no one calling me lazy, moody, too loud, acting crazy. There is no one yelling at me to "SNAP OUT OF IT!"
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Stress, Anxiety, and Bipolar Disorder
I'm tired, so tired, and have been for days. I haven't been able to just sink into this fatigue, since there are still things to do that are time related. I've been working on deadlines for weeks. I've been spending money I don't have, trying to get things done that will at least allow me to have an income so I can start paying off the things I couldn't pay for once my bank account was emptied but the work not finished.
I always worked on deadlines (modeling and acting) and I always spent more than I earned (compulsive shopping is a symptom of bipolar disorder). This creates a lot of stress even without the horrifying thrill of knowing that your house might fall down around your feet. I have termites. And it's been the rainiest spring I remember. This is a dry climate, and so termites are not that common. But this year it might as well be the Pacific Northwest and termites are drawn to wet wood. So I'm exhausted and worried. That's not a good combo for anyone with bipolar disorder.
Those of us with bipolar disorder spend most of our lives coping with the stress our disorder creates. For people with families, bipolar disorder effects everyone. In my case, it has effected a man or two or three. I can only imagine how difficult it would be to know that my personal chaos was driving my children crazy. And then there is the genetic factor. I didn't reproduce because I'd been raised in an abusive family and wanted to stop the cycle of abuse. But in the bipolar family, if one person is bipolar, there will be others. Bipolar disorder is one of the few genetic illnesses that has not just one genetic marker, but two. This is a double whammy. There is no escaping the fact that if you have children, you will be passing this illness on to the next generation and the next and on into infinity.
I take my bipolar medications religiously. Even when I was on bipolar drugs that made me fat and lazy, I took them as if my life depended on it. And in truth my life does depend on it. I have had bad psychiatric care and good psychiatric care, but no matter the quality of care, I've taken the drugs they prescribed for me. Suicide attempts and hospitalizations for psychosis will scare the bejeezus out of almost anyone. Years of sleeping as if you were under the spell of an evil witch will make you hate your wasted life. Depression kills. There is no way around that. And after awhile, it is only on the way down or on the way up that you know you have a window of opportunity and the energy and the knowledge to plan and carry out another suicide attempt. Suicide is our leading cause of death. I know this, and so I take my medications.
I carry thirty to forty pounds of drug weight. But I'd rather be fat than dead. I'd rather be fat than in a sleep coma. I rather be fat than bankrupted by a shopping compulsion. And even with those extra thirty or forty pounds I'm normal weight for my height and age. It's just that as a former model I was always very slender. I am genetically predisposed to be thin. So "fat" to me is not "fat" to most.
Today I'm taking a day off. I'm going to stay in my little house and putter around. I'll do a load of laundry and make my place a little cleaner. I'm going to let the boys do their thing without any help or input from me. I'm going to ignore the phone. I'm going to nap when I feel like it. I'm going to rest my weary body and mind.
I always worked on deadlines (modeling and acting) and I always spent more than I earned (compulsive shopping is a symptom of bipolar disorder). This creates a lot of stress even without the horrifying thrill of knowing that your house might fall down around your feet. I have termites. And it's been the rainiest spring I remember. This is a dry climate, and so termites are not that common. But this year it might as well be the Pacific Northwest and termites are drawn to wet wood. So I'm exhausted and worried. That's not a good combo for anyone with bipolar disorder.
Those of us with bipolar disorder spend most of our lives coping with the stress our disorder creates. For people with families, bipolar disorder effects everyone. In my case, it has effected a man or two or three. I can only imagine how difficult it would be to know that my personal chaos was driving my children crazy. And then there is the genetic factor. I didn't reproduce because I'd been raised in an abusive family and wanted to stop the cycle of abuse. But in the bipolar family, if one person is bipolar, there will be others. Bipolar disorder is one of the few genetic illnesses that has not just one genetic marker, but two. This is a double whammy. There is no escaping the fact that if you have children, you will be passing this illness on to the next generation and the next and on into infinity.
I take my bipolar medications religiously. Even when I was on bipolar drugs that made me fat and lazy, I took them as if my life depended on it. And in truth my life does depend on it. I have had bad psychiatric care and good psychiatric care, but no matter the quality of care, I've taken the drugs they prescribed for me. Suicide attempts and hospitalizations for psychosis will scare the bejeezus out of almost anyone. Years of sleeping as if you were under the spell of an evil witch will make you hate your wasted life. Depression kills. There is no way around that. And after awhile, it is only on the way down or on the way up that you know you have a window of opportunity and the energy and the knowledge to plan and carry out another suicide attempt. Suicide is our leading cause of death. I know this, and so I take my medications.
I carry thirty to forty pounds of drug weight. But I'd rather be fat than dead. I'd rather be fat than in a sleep coma. I rather be fat than bankrupted by a shopping compulsion. And even with those extra thirty or forty pounds I'm normal weight for my height and age. It's just that as a former model I was always very slender. I am genetically predisposed to be thin. So "fat" to me is not "fat" to most.
Today I'm taking a day off. I'm going to stay in my little house and putter around. I'll do a load of laundry and make my place a little cleaner. I'm going to let the boys do their thing without any help or input from me. I'm going to ignore the phone. I'm going to nap when I feel like it. I'm going to rest my weary body and mind.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Bedrooms
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Ta Da!
The house is clean and welcoming. It isn't perfect but if you were 120 years old, you'd show a bit of wear too. I have one thing left to do in the kitchen and it's a bit of decorative cover-up. The old faucet was on the white tile wall behind the sink. The new faucet is on the sink. I'll cover the old faucet holes with a row or two of tiles three wide and two high. It won't be that hard and it won't take long to do. I'm sure the boys won't mind. They move in tomorrow and are having a small party to celebrate. I've been invited.
Here are a few photos as promised. I'm starting with the kitchen and working my way through the downstairs. I'll take you up to the bedrooms tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Missing In Action
I'm sorry to have abandoned you. I'm working.
`Today I finished painting the kitchen. This involved five colors of paint. I figure if you're going to paint a kitchen why not make it really difficult. And every color that's dried gets taped for the next color. It's a time consuming bitch. Three days of painting and cleaning up after painting has turned my hands to sandpapery claws with little infected splits at the tips of my fingers. I'll take pictures. Today I worked fifteen hours.
Then I started cleaning blinds. Holy fuck, that's a nasty job! And time consuming too. Then I washed the bay windows in the fireplace room and I notice that every window sill is filthy. Those damn kids.
I won't be able to participate in the current political conversation and a lot of things of are happening. I feel left out. I have three more long days of cleaning.
Don't forget me while I'm gone. All I'll need is a day of two of total vegitating and I'll be good as new.
`Today I finished painting the kitchen. This involved five colors of paint. I figure if you're going to paint a kitchen why not make it really difficult. And every color that's dried gets taped for the next color. It's a time consuming bitch. Three days of painting and cleaning up after painting has turned my hands to sandpapery claws with little infected splits at the tips of my fingers. I'll take pictures. Today I worked fifteen hours.Then I started cleaning blinds. Holy fuck, that's a nasty job! And time consuming too. Then I washed the bay windows in the fireplace room and I notice that every window sill is filthy. Those damn kids.
I won't be able to participate in the current political conversation and a lot of things of are happening. I feel left out. I have three more long days of cleaning.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Due To Old Age and Naiveté I'm Spent
The house and I may be too old to fix. But I'm trying to keep us both patched up with as little money as possible considering the need for much work. Now that the new countertop and sink and fixtures and cabinets are in, I need to verathane the unfinished wood or paint or stain it. But I'm going for the quick cheap fix. The whole kitchen needs to be painted. And if I can put it on the bill, I'm going to try very hard to get my handyman to help. He's painting elsewhere today. I have some of the paint I want to use. I want to paint the wainscoting a medium warm gray. I'll paint the walls a pale neutral close to the color of the wood and a fleck in the countertop. The upper cabinets will be brown. That is, if I can get the help and pay it off after the rent starts coming in. I had to pay cash for the cabinets.
But the bad kids left the house uncleaned. The carpets and rugs have gone unvacuumed the hardwood floors are dirty. The windows are smeared with dog nose mess. Feathers and dog hair and dust drift and every surface and drawer is dusty and gritty. The blinds Ms M and I cleaned before the kids moved in are all dirty again. Blinds are time consuming to clean. The tub looks as if it hasn't been scrubbed since Ms M last cleaned it. I'm afraid to think about the toilet. And my back and knees are giving out. I have cracks in the ends of my fingers. The kids left the fridge full of long-ago-rotted food. I tossed it all today. The oven is... Well, just thinking about it is about to make me cry.
And lest we not forget, I have to buy a new washer and dryer and get them installed. I'm worried about the floor under the old washer. Now that I'm thinking about it, I was going to get my laundry done today, but just didn't make it. But I did buy a couple of rolls of quarters. I'm going to bed early. I have an appointment with the Terminex man tomorrow morning.
The two handsome young men move in a week from today. And I want things to be finished by then. This is going to be tricky. Too bad I don't have a man in my life.
But the bad kids left the house uncleaned. The carpets and rugs have gone unvacuumed the hardwood floors are dirty. The windows are smeared with dog nose mess. Feathers and dog hair and dust drift and every surface and drawer is dusty and gritty. The blinds Ms M and I cleaned before the kids moved in are all dirty again. Blinds are time consuming to clean. The tub looks as if it hasn't been scrubbed since Ms M last cleaned it. I'm afraid to think about the toilet. And my back and knees are giving out. I have cracks in the ends of my fingers. The kids left the fridge full of long-ago-rotted food. I tossed it all today. The oven is... Well, just thinking about it is about to make me cry.
And lest we not forget, I have to buy a new washer and dryer and get them installed. I'm worried about the floor under the old washer. Now that I'm thinking about it, I was going to get my laundry done today, but just didn't make it. But I did buy a couple of rolls of quarters. I'm going to bed early. I have an appointment with the Terminex man tomorrow morning.
The two handsome young men move in a week from today. And I want things to be finished by then. This is going to be tricky. Too bad I don't have a man in my life.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Honest Scrap
I've been given this award for the third time and asked by the lovely Menopausal Stoner to give up 10 more things you don't know about me. At the moment I can't think of ten things you don't know about me. I tell all just about every day. And lately it seems I'm repeating myself a lot. So here is more or less what I said the first time.
I think I was the first American blogger to receive this award:
What makes this especially important to me is that Eizzy K is an Ugandan poet and a reader of my poetry. I write poetry so seldom that I have neglected the site. I don't know when I got this award the first time exactly, but I'm really thrilled that it came from a young poet to an old woman who hardly considers herself a poet. And Eizzy K, called me "Savage Queen" which makes me cry. It's one thing to write the occasional poem, but some of the poets in the blogosphere write a poem a day. That amazes me, since I only write poetry when a poem presents itself to me and gives me no choice. It's like having a vision or a little stroke or a mild seizure. So thank you Eizzy K.
One of the things I love about this award is the muscularity of it. It has an industrial, workman-like aspect that appeals to me esthetically and politically--it reminds me of my fondness for the labor movement. I love the wage earning working men and women of this world.
Now I have to think of ten things you don't yet know about me.
1. I fantasized a life as a labor organizer. I'm completely pro labor, and damn proud of it. I read The Jungle, by Upton Sinclaire when I was in my early teens. That was the beginning of my desire to be a labor organizer. Yet I have never been a member of a union.
2. Kindness makes me cry. I have toughened myself over a lifetime of cruelty from my family to be unmoved by the carelessly tossed off insult, but a kind and loving word brings tears I can't control.
3. I'm a socialist. I think the public utilities should be owned by the public. Water should not be sold. Nor should the oil and coal be owned by a company with a profit motive. If Alaska owns it's oil, why don't the rest of us own our oil? I'm not a fan of capitalism. Capitalism has given us a meltdown of the world's economies. What the financial services industries have done amounts to an enormous Ponzi scheme. Those responsible for the collapse should be prosecuted for gross malfeasance. I wanted single payer universal health care. I want the rich taxed like the rest of us. I want an end to corporate wellfare. I want an end to tax havens for rich fuckers trying to avoid paying their fair share. I want to see the end to obscene bonus and salaries for those who do nothing but find ways to fuck us over while raking in more millions for their billionaire friends. I want a redistribution of wealth. I'm a dreamer.
4. I love the underdog, literally. I will take an animal no one else will, just to give it a bit of happiness and security before it dies. I'm sentimental for the person or animal who has been treated badly. I would love to be able to rescue all those needing rescue. But I can only rescue one creature at a time. And at the moment I need rescuing.
5. I care little for wealth and have never been ambitious enough to strive for money. It shows now. I can't even get a line of credit on my unencumbered house to do long needed repairs. I worked in a industry where the pay is enormous for merely being pretty and showing up for a couple of hours of easy work and knowing how to move on a runway or pose for a photo. I was always embarrassed by this profession. Why so much money for something that is actually bad for society? I worked as little as possible.
6. I purposely avoided getting academic credentials as a way of pissing off my mother.
7. I married three men I did not love, and if asked, would not have married the one man I always loved.
8. I do not like my fellow humans much. I like people online more than I like people in the flesh. I like a few people very much, but generally I avoid places where there might be crowds. This will make political demonstrations difficult for me, but I may just have to gird my loins and participate, since there are so many things to demonstrate either for or against, like financial reform with very tough regulations on financial institutions deemed "too big to fail," or to my way of thinking "too big to exist." I fear the growing clamor for deporting "illegal immigrants." It feels like fascism to me.
9. I see everyone whose ancestors came here seeking a better life as illegal immigrants and I've told you why many times. I'm a descendant of indigenous people. I feel related to the indigenous people migrating north for the opportunity to make a living and feed a family. Once there were no borders on this landmass. Once this land was populated by indigenous people. Since you guys came here you've tried to exterminate and marginalize us. Well, fuck you. We're here to stay. Get used to it. And if you're one of those so righteously claiming that the white culture is the best culture, I can't wait for the day your favorite child calls you to say she just married Jesus Morales in Las Vages and is pregnant with twins. Cheers!
9. Poems take me like possession. They come on me like bad weather that can't be ignored.
10. Twitter has taken me like a favorite lover. I can't get enough of it. I have no idea why twitter claimed me and not the rest of you. But twitter is where I expend my political energy
Since this is the third go round on this award for me, I'm going to refrain from tagging you. I probably got most of you the first and second time I was fortunate enough to get this handsome award. I hope Eizzy knows how far and wide this award from her has gone. But I don't think Eizzy reads this blog. Eizzy only reads my poetry. Bless you Eizzy. Every time I write a poem I think of you.
Then the instructions for the 'chosen ones:'
1.You must brag about the award
2.You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger
3.You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.
4. Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog.
5.List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself.
Then pass it on with the instructions!
Remember, I did not make the rules, I just pass them along.
I think I was the first American blogger to receive this award:
What makes this especially important to me is that Eizzy K is an Ugandan poet and a reader of my poetry. I write poetry so seldom that I have neglected the site. I don't know when I got this award the first time exactly, but I'm really thrilled that it came from a young poet to an old woman who hardly considers herself a poet. And Eizzy K, called me "Savage Queen" which makes me cry. It's one thing to write the occasional poem, but some of the poets in the blogosphere write a poem a day. That amazes me, since I only write poetry when a poem presents itself to me and gives me no choice. It's like having a vision or a little stroke or a mild seizure. So thank you Eizzy K.One of the things I love about this award is the muscularity of it. It has an industrial, workman-like aspect that appeals to me esthetically and politically--it reminds me of my fondness for the labor movement. I love the wage earning working men and women of this world.
Now I have to think of ten things you don't yet know about me.
1. I fantasized a life as a labor organizer. I'm completely pro labor, and damn proud of it. I read The Jungle, by Upton Sinclaire when I was in my early teens. That was the beginning of my desire to be a labor organizer. Yet I have never been a member of a union.
2. Kindness makes me cry. I have toughened myself over a lifetime of cruelty from my family to be unmoved by the carelessly tossed off insult, but a kind and loving word brings tears I can't control.
3. I'm a socialist. I think the public utilities should be owned by the public. Water should not be sold. Nor should the oil and coal be owned by a company with a profit motive. If Alaska owns it's oil, why don't the rest of us own our oil? I'm not a fan of capitalism. Capitalism has given us a meltdown of the world's economies. What the financial services industries have done amounts to an enormous Ponzi scheme. Those responsible for the collapse should be prosecuted for gross malfeasance. I wanted single payer universal health care. I want the rich taxed like the rest of us. I want an end to corporate wellfare. I want an end to tax havens for rich fuckers trying to avoid paying their fair share. I want to see the end to obscene bonus and salaries for those who do nothing but find ways to fuck us over while raking in more millions for their billionaire friends. I want a redistribution of wealth. I'm a dreamer.
4. I love the underdog, literally. I will take an animal no one else will, just to give it a bit of happiness and security before it dies. I'm sentimental for the person or animal who has been treated badly. I would love to be able to rescue all those needing rescue. But I can only rescue one creature at a time. And at the moment I need rescuing.
5. I care little for wealth and have never been ambitious enough to strive for money. It shows now. I can't even get a line of credit on my unencumbered house to do long needed repairs. I worked in a industry where the pay is enormous for merely being pretty and showing up for a couple of hours of easy work and knowing how to move on a runway or pose for a photo. I was always embarrassed by this profession. Why so much money for something that is actually bad for society? I worked as little as possible.
6. I purposely avoided getting academic credentials as a way of pissing off my mother.
7. I married three men I did not love, and if asked, would not have married the one man I always loved.
8. I do not like my fellow humans much. I like people online more than I like people in the flesh. I like a few people very much, but generally I avoid places where there might be crowds. This will make political demonstrations difficult for me, but I may just have to gird my loins and participate, since there are so many things to demonstrate either for or against, like financial reform with very tough regulations on financial institutions deemed "too big to fail," or to my way of thinking "too big to exist." I fear the growing clamor for deporting "illegal immigrants." It feels like fascism to me.
9. I see everyone whose ancestors came here seeking a better life as illegal immigrants and I've told you why many times. I'm a descendant of indigenous people. I feel related to the indigenous people migrating north for the opportunity to make a living and feed a family. Once there were no borders on this landmass. Once this land was populated by indigenous people. Since you guys came here you've tried to exterminate and marginalize us. Well, fuck you. We're here to stay. Get used to it. And if you're one of those so righteously claiming that the white culture is the best culture, I can't wait for the day your favorite child calls you to say she just married Jesus Morales in Las Vages and is pregnant with twins. Cheers!
9. Poems take me like possession. They come on me like bad weather that can't be ignored.
10. Twitter has taken me like a favorite lover. I can't get enough of it. I have no idea why twitter claimed me and not the rest of you. But twitter is where I expend my political energy
Since this is the third go round on this award for me, I'm going to refrain from tagging you. I probably got most of you the first and second time I was fortunate enough to get this handsome award. I hope Eizzy knows how far and wide this award from her has gone. But I don't think Eizzy reads this blog. Eizzy only reads my poetry. Bless you Eizzy. Every time I write a poem I think of you.
Then the instructions for the 'chosen ones:'
1.You must brag about the award
2.You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger
3.You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.
4. Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog.
5.List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself.
Then pass it on with the instructions!
Remember, I did not make the rules, I just pass them along.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
No Money For Me
The credit union I've banked with since 1975 has turned me down for a line of credit secured by my unencumbered house. I'm now officially fucked. I can do nothing to take care of the problems with the house, and the boys have said they'll move in on the fourteenth, after the construction is done. Now there'll be no construction. And who knows how this will effect their decision to move in.
During the five years I was taking care of my mother, my own financial life went down the toilet with my sanity. I ended up with a bankruptcy. It's five years later and I have been a very good girl. I haven't any debt at all. But in the world of banking, that means I have no credit score. And with no credit score, no current debt and record of payment, despite the fact that my collateral is an unencumbered house means no credit line. With no credit line on the house, I can't do the repairs I need to do. I'm fucked!
And let's not forget those medical bills rolling in after my horrible hospitalization. And for a moment I forgot all about Comcast. I really am fucked. And saddest of all, I'm not alone.
During the five years I was taking care of my mother, my own financial life went down the toilet with my sanity. I ended up with a bankruptcy. It's five years later and I have been a very good girl. I haven't any debt at all. But in the world of banking, that means I have no credit score. And with no credit score, no current debt and record of payment, despite the fact that my collateral is an unencumbered house means no credit line. With no credit line on the house, I can't do the repairs I need to do. I'm fucked!
And let's not forget those medical bills rolling in after my horrible hospitalization. And for a moment I forgot all about Comcast. I really am fucked. And saddest of all, I'm not alone.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
I'm Alone But We're All In This Together
My doctor appointment went well. Kristen and I always chat as she goes about pricking my finger and testing my clotting factor. She thinks, given the shit, both literal and figurative, that's going on in my life, that I'm doing very well. I'm coping. I haven't spun off into thumb sucking depression or raging lunacy.
I've talked about the problems with my departing tenants. This would be mostly of the literally shitty kind. Three days of cleaning up other people's shit. I felt like the Sisyphus of Shit. They knew they were leaving then. It seemed so very deliberate and mean. His response was little more than a shrug. They'll be gone by tomorrow night.
Now I have to replace the dead washer and dryer. And since they flooded the laundry room floor and the basement, I may have to make repairs before I can replace these appliances. Shlepping laundry to the Laundromat is a bitch. It's costly, too.
In taking a look at some of the things that needed repair in the main house we, the handyman and I, found what seemed like termite damage under the kitchen sink, and into the cabinet. The kitchen dates from the very early 1050's, maybe earlier. You don't fuck around with termites. Though termites are not all that common in this dry climate. But the damage is in a spot where there has been a water drip. We won't know how extensive it is until we tear out the cabinets. My handyman has a sink that will work there. Sad that I don't get to design the kitchen of my dreams for that house. But it will probably be an inprovement. Hopefully more convenient, cleaner looking, better organized for a cook. I hear the Dartmouth boy likes to cook.
The handsome young gentlemen with nice personalities and sense of humor will still move into the house. Only not until the 14th of May. But in the meantime, there will be some costly remodeling going on even if it is fast and on a severely restricted budget. So today, after my doctor appointment, I went to vist the branch manager of the branch of the credit union I have a banking history going back to the mid 1970s. I have a house that is unencumbered. It's a big lot in a nice part of town. You'd think that would count for something, but still it will take two weeks. Two fucking weeks might as well be two months. I need money now. She asked me about family. I have none. She asked me for references. I must have given her a blank look. She said, "Friends?" I had to think about it. And though my friend and neighbor lives only three houses away, I don't know her address. Fortunately I do know her phone number. I don't have a cell phone with a bunch of programed in names and numbers. I'm a relic. I hardly exist. She asked for another friend. I wracked my brain. I thought of a couple of people, but didn't know phone numbers or addresses. I was ashamed and flustered. I had documentation for proof of property tax and tax valuation of the property. I had proof of homeowners insurance. I have little credit history anymore. But if she googled me, she'd see that I do exist.
Demolition starts Saturday. Anybody in?
I've talked about the problems with my departing tenants. This would be mostly of the literally shitty kind. Three days of cleaning up other people's shit. I felt like the Sisyphus of Shit. They knew they were leaving then. It seemed so very deliberate and mean. His response was little more than a shrug. They'll be gone by tomorrow night.
Now I have to replace the dead washer and dryer. And since they flooded the laundry room floor and the basement, I may have to make repairs before I can replace these appliances. Shlepping laundry to the Laundromat is a bitch. It's costly, too.
In taking a look at some of the things that needed repair in the main house we, the handyman and I, found what seemed like termite damage under the kitchen sink, and into the cabinet. The kitchen dates from the very early 1050's, maybe earlier. You don't fuck around with termites. Though termites are not all that common in this dry climate. But the damage is in a spot where there has been a water drip. We won't know how extensive it is until we tear out the cabinets. My handyman has a sink that will work there. Sad that I don't get to design the kitchen of my dreams for that house. But it will probably be an inprovement. Hopefully more convenient, cleaner looking, better organized for a cook. I hear the Dartmouth boy likes to cook.
The handsome young gentlemen with nice personalities and sense of humor will still move into the house. Only not until the 14th of May. But in the meantime, there will be some costly remodeling going on even if it is fast and on a severely restricted budget. So today, after my doctor appointment, I went to vist the branch manager of the branch of the credit union I have a banking history going back to the mid 1970s. I have a house that is unencumbered. It's a big lot in a nice part of town. You'd think that would count for something, but still it will take two weeks. Two fucking weeks might as well be two months. I need money now. She asked me about family. I have none. She asked me for references. I must have given her a blank look. She said, "Friends?" I had to think about it. And though my friend and neighbor lives only three houses away, I don't know her address. Fortunately I do know her phone number. I don't have a cell phone with a bunch of programed in names and numbers. I'm a relic. I hardly exist. She asked for another friend. I wracked my brain. I thought of a couple of people, but didn't know phone numbers or addresses. I was ashamed and flustered. I had documentation for proof of property tax and tax valuation of the property. I had proof of homeowners insurance. I have little credit history anymore. But if she googled me, she'd see that I do exist.
Demolition starts Saturday. Anybody in?
It's Snowing and I Have Termites.
I had to call my new tenants last night to let them know I'm going to have to tear out the kitchen cabinets to repair damage done by termites. So the day the new tenants were to move in construction will begin on the kitchen. The termite situation is due to bad calking around the sink. Water has dripped on the wood supporting the sink and this is where termite damage is visible. Having termites anywhere in your house requires the hiring of a good exterminator to surround the house with pesticide specifically targeting termites. It's expensive and a royal pain in the ass. And all this needs to be done quickly. I want the new tenants to be happy in their new home, and I want the house clean and in good repair. This is going to be expensive. After my doctor appointment today, I'm going to my credit union to apply for a line of credit on the house.
And to make all this just a little more painful, it snowed all night and I awoke at 7:30 to see snow on the ground. It's been snowing all morning as I've been making calls to exterminators setting up appointments for tomorrow. Now the snow is really sticking. This comes after I've taken houseplants out for the spring. If they die, they die. I have bigger problems than a few dead houseplants.
The bad tenants are slow-walking their departeure. Despite the fact that they have access to their new place, they are not going to be completely out of my house until the 1st. There is no way they'll be able to get the place as clean as it was when they moved in. I'm not sure they know how to clean. So I have scheduled a cleaning person to come Saturday morning to start cleaning the bathroom and both bedrooms. While were in the kitchen making a gawd awful mess, she'll be upstairs cleaning a gawd awful mess. I'll make sure the kitchen is sealed off from the rest of the house with both a closed door and a plastic seal.
I didn't find out about the termite damage until Tuesday when I took my handyman into the main house to have him look at a couple of small jobs there. I had the first of three exterminators look at it yesterday. I have two more inspections scheduled for tomorrow. So this place is going to be very busy for the next few days. This will seriously cut into my writing time as well as my twitter time. Damn.
And for some reason spellcheck isn't working on blogger. So if this is full of spelling errors, it's blogger's fault, not mine. I've never been able to spell well and don't notice typos.
And to make all this just a little more painful, it snowed all night and I awoke at 7:30 to see snow on the ground. It's been snowing all morning as I've been making calls to exterminators setting up appointments for tomorrow. Now the snow is really sticking. This comes after I've taken houseplants out for the spring. If they die, they die. I have bigger problems than a few dead houseplants.
The bad tenants are slow-walking their departeure. Despite the fact that they have access to their new place, they are not going to be completely out of my house until the 1st. There is no way they'll be able to get the place as clean as it was when they moved in. I'm not sure they know how to clean. So I have scheduled a cleaning person to come Saturday morning to start cleaning the bathroom and both bedrooms. While were in the kitchen making a gawd awful mess, she'll be upstairs cleaning a gawd awful mess. I'll make sure the kitchen is sealed off from the rest of the house with both a closed door and a plastic seal.
I didn't find out about the termite damage until Tuesday when I took my handyman into the main house to have him look at a couple of small jobs there. I had the first of three exterminators look at it yesterday. I have two more inspections scheduled for tomorrow. So this place is going to be very busy for the next few days. This will seriously cut into my writing time as well as my twitter time. Damn.
And for some reason spellcheck isn't working on blogger. So if this is full of spelling errors, it's blogger's fault, not mine. I've never been able to spell well and don't notice typos.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
POTUS Is Looking For a Few Good Writers
Peggy --
We're looking for a few brilliant writers and organizers to join the email team at Organizing for America and the Democratic National Committee.
It's a challenging role that requires the ability to think strategically about advocacy and elections, write at a high level on tight deadlines, and manage sophisticated national campaigns. (A working knowledge of HTML is also really helpful.)
The salary and benefits are competitive, the team is great to work with, and the gig offers a historic opportunity to help President Obama and millions of OFA supporters change our country for the better.
Find out more and apply today:
http://my.barackobama.com/
Hope to hear from you soon,
Patrick
Patrick Schmitt
Director of Email Campaigns
P.S. -- If there's someone you know who'd be a great fit, will you forward this email to him or her?
We're looking for a few brilliant writers and organizers to join the email team at Organizing for America and the Democratic National Committee.
It's a challenging role that requires the ability to think strategically about advocacy and elections, write at a high level on tight deadlines, and manage sophisticated national campaigns. (A working knowledge of HTML is also really helpful.)
The salary and benefits are competitive, the team is great to work with, and the gig offers a historic opportunity to help President Obama and millions of OFA supporters change our country for the better.
Find out more and apply today:
http://my.barackobama.com/
Hope to hear from you soon,
Patrick
Patrick Schmitt
Director of Email Campaigns
P.S. -- If there's someone you know who'd be a great fit, will you forward this email to him or her?
Friday, April 23, 2010
A Simple Solution To Illegal Immigration Now That Arizona Has Gone Crazy
I find it comical that there is such hysteria about "illegal" immigration. It is the people who self identify as "white" who are most hysterical about "illegal" immigration. This landmass was populated by native peoples for many thousands of years before it was "discovered" by the English and Spanish. Then came the hoards of others of mostly Eastern European descent. All these immigrants were, "illegal." We did not invite you, but we were not hostile to you until you started killing us, stealing our lands, and making and breaking treaties with us.
Let's be clear about a few things. You stole Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and California from the Mexicans. You claimed it was your "Manifest Destiny" to move from the East Coast to the West Coast, gobbling our land and "giving" us the least habitable lands on this continent, the poorest of soil, and without much water. You "gave" us the lands where little would grow and our livestock could not graze. You tried to exterminate us. Well we are now sick of you and we want you to go home. The only immigrants among you we will keep are those you captured, transported here in ships, and sold into slavery. These people are our brothers and sisters. The rest of you should start packing. Your time has run out. If you cannot claim ancestry on this continent (which does, by the way, stretch from Canada to Argentina) prior to the early 1700's consider yourself served with an eviction notice.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
This Should Have Been a Great Day
I took a nap yesterday. I got a good night's sleep and woke up naturally and dreaming good dreams. I love dreaming. I love the way I feel when I've been dreaming and wake up in my own natural time. I didn't have a list of dreaded chores and faced no looming deadline, didn't have a list of errands to run. So this should have been a wonderful day.
My friend and neighbor who likes to take Marley with her when she and her husband walk their Chihuahua every moring, called to let me know I needed to put Marley's harness on and send her out. That was fine. She's a good friend. But she's married to a man who can't stand me. I seem to have that effect on a lot of men. She offers to do things for me. I accept her offer. But eventually he gets pissed off that she's spending so much help either over here or on the phone with me. She'd talked me into letting her screen prospective tenants since she thinks I'm too easily charmed. She says I give too much information and that I tend to be too nice. Hard to believe, isn't it? But rather than argue with her, I say, "Fine. You do the initial screening." This means that her phone number is on the information sheet attatched to the For Rent sign in front of the house. Now her husband is pissed off that she's taking those calls. So she sets up a time to meet the poeple when they make an appointment to see the house, but he has forbid her from entering the house. He claims the recent plumbing problems have made the house potentially hazardous to her health. There was raw sewage in their kitchen sink a week ago this past Tuesday, but the New Kids were told by the plumber they had to wash everything that came in contact with the sewage with bleach. They're still alive. And there were two days of raw sewage flooding my bathroom/solarium. I cleaned it up and she's been over here several times drinking beer. I think mainly to get away from him and to drink beer without having him count the number and add up the cost. I buy beer and borboun for her so she can get her coping buzz on. Who the hell am I to judge? I thought part of the reason she offered to help me was to get away from his controlling behavior. But now it's her safety he's worried about. I won't let her help me anymore, since it always turns into a problem. I won't call her house since it seems to put her on the spot with him. My world grows ever smaller. But I'm sick of the bad vibe and the hastle. Seems the more contact I have with the world out there, even if it's with girl friends, the more my happy day gets ruined. I've had adrenalin poisoning all damn day.
I want to go back to sleep and dream it all again, have at least one good day this week. Is that asking too much?
My friend and neighbor who likes to take Marley with her when she and her husband walk their Chihuahua every moring, called to let me know I needed to put Marley's harness on and send her out. That was fine. She's a good friend. But she's married to a man who can't stand me. I seem to have that effect on a lot of men. She offers to do things for me. I accept her offer. But eventually he gets pissed off that she's spending so much help either over here or on the phone with me. She'd talked me into letting her screen prospective tenants since she thinks I'm too easily charmed. She says I give too much information and that I tend to be too nice. Hard to believe, isn't it? But rather than argue with her, I say, "Fine. You do the initial screening." This means that her phone number is on the information sheet attatched to the For Rent sign in front of the house. Now her husband is pissed off that she's taking those calls. So she sets up a time to meet the poeple when they make an appointment to see the house, but he has forbid her from entering the house. He claims the recent plumbing problems have made the house potentially hazardous to her health. There was raw sewage in their kitchen sink a week ago this past Tuesday, but the New Kids were told by the plumber they had to wash everything that came in contact with the sewage with bleach. They're still alive. And there were two days of raw sewage flooding my bathroom/solarium. I cleaned it up and she's been over here several times drinking beer. I think mainly to get away from him and to drink beer without having him count the number and add up the cost. I buy beer and borboun for her so she can get her coping buzz on. Who the hell am I to judge? I thought part of the reason she offered to help me was to get away from his controlling behavior. But now it's her safety he's worried about. I won't let her help me anymore, since it always turns into a problem. I won't call her house since it seems to put her on the spot with him. My world grows ever smaller. But I'm sick of the bad vibe and the hastle. Seems the more contact I have with the world out there, even if it's with girl friends, the more my happy day gets ruined. I've had adrenalin poisoning all damn day.
I want to go back to sleep and dream it all again, have at least one good day this week. Is that asking too much?
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Let's Imagine the Perfect Tenant For Me
Monday, April 19, 2010
For Hanging In There With Me.
When the shit hits the fan there's nobody like you to make me feel that someone feels my pain and wishes me well. There's nothing better than that, unless it would be a sweet, sexy, handy man in bed with me. Now that would be The Top! Make him a bass player and I could die happy.
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