*Siiiiiiiiigh*

My mama called me tonight at a few minutes til 8. My grandma is back in the hospital. Apparently, she fell last night at my dumbass aunt's house. Then, said dumbass aunt didn't bother taking her to the doctor until today. *Eyeroll*

Anyway, when the doctor saw her, he realized she had bigger problems than the fall and sent her straight to the hospital. The doctors there said she had an infection in her neck (don't ask, I don't know, either) and no protein in her whole body. Nobody can or will say if the malnourishment is from the infectious colitis she also still has or not, but I'm gonna go with yes. Additionally, she has half the amount of red blood cells you're supposed to have and three times the number of white blood cells you're supposed to have.

So yeah. They don't expect her to make it. They've been giving her pain meds and are supposed to start blood transfusions tomorrow, but my mama has already reiterated the DNR orders.

I'm a terrible person, but I honestly can't say that I give a damn one way or the other. Yes, I realize just how awful my lack of give-a-damn is, but I'm sorry. Not one damn was given in the Land of Teh Bunneh.

I'm sorry for my mother. It IS her mama, after all. Even I'm not that much of a douche.

I just can't bring myself to be hypocritical enough to act all upset over the old lady's impending demise at this late a date. She burned her bridges with me a long time ago. I just dread all the drama that I KNOW is going to take place after she dies. Between my mama's money-grubbing sisters and having to deal with the "estate," my mama is probably going to go nuts.

And I'm probably gonna have to stomp some asses at the funeral home. Won't that make a great headline in the A/C paper?

I dunno. Like I said, I'm probably a horrible person. But I just can't be a hypocrite and pretend that I'm distraught when I'm not. I won't be a bitch about it or anything. I'll keep my thoughts about the old lady to myself, and I'll be nice to people who come offering condolences, but I can't pretend to love someone I don't give a shit about. The effort and the hypocrisy is just too much to deal with.

After all...the reason I'm not a Baptist now is that, as Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday said in Tombstone, "My hypocrisy only goes so far." Pretending that I give a shit about the old lady is beyond me.

I do hope I can make it as easy as possible for my mama, though. The old lady's put her through the wringer her whole life, especially for the past...20...or so years. Maybe one day, my poor mother can get some peace. She's made her mistakes, too, but I know that inside, she still has some humanity left. That's why I can have empathy for her and not the old woman.

Sometimes, intentions ARE a better way to judge people than actions. Especially when dealing with crazy people like this.

In any case, I fully expect to have to go home for several days for a funeral within the next week or so. God, give me strength. *Sigh*

Fascinating Stuff

So I was poking around on Wikipedia tonight after tackling a mountain of work, and I ran across something really intriguing. Please don't ask me how I got there. I love Wiki because it allows me look up something, then click through to something else, then to something else, then to something else. I can lose entire DAYS on there and have no idea how I got from my first search to the last article I read.

Aaaaaanyway...I somehow stumbled across an article on Borna disease a virus that causes neurological impairment and usually death in horses. Horses. Remember this. It's important.

Apparently, there's also correlation between humans having antibodies to a protein contained in the Bornavirus in their blood and...bipolar disorder.

I *really* hope they follow up on this research. I think it could be really fascinating and could definitely dispel some of the bullshit out there about BP.

Letters I Wish I Had The Balls To Send

Dear X,

I know that I should probably leave this alone...but I know in my heart that I can't. I hope you can forgive me for my inability to just walk away.

I have gravely misjudged you. I'm pretty sure I've never been so wrong in my entire life. I will never rest easy until I can apologize to you for that. And for listening to all the things your husband said and making the mistake of believing them.

You will never know how much you mean to me. I have said and done things that I never should've done, and I'm incredibly sorry. We got off to the wrong foot from the very beginning, and it only went downhill from there. There was much more going on behind the curtain than either of us knew. I should've known better, and I should've tried harder--much harder--to show you that you mean far more to me than a way to get to him.

We should've tried to be friends to start with. Then, there would've been a foundation underneath us when the shit hit the fan. As it was, there was too much mistrust on either side that was exacerbated by jumping into bed much too quickly. Without that foundation, it didn't stand up under the lies, the fights, and the betrayals on all sides.

I wish you knew how much I love you. It's completely separate from him. At the moment, I don't like him very much at all...but I still care very, very deeply for you. Would that there were some way that I could make you believe that.

As it is, though, I understand why you wouldn't.

I would love to make it up to you somehow. If I can't do that, I want to at least tell you to your face how sorry I am for how badly I misjudged you. I did you a grave injustice, and I doubt I'll ever forgive myself for that.

I jump headlong into things and say things that I don't mean or that aren't the right thing to say. I did that when I contacted you. I was wanting the opportunity to talk with you, and somehow, I ended up making it into far more than that. I don't blame you for turning me down. I made it sound like I was asking for "another chance," when that wasn't what I meant at all. I wanted to talk to you, to apologize, to explain my side of the story. I'm not a bad person. I make shitty choices sometimes, and I'm willing to take responsibility for them. But I'm not nearly as bad a person as this whole situation makes me look, especially given the new things that your email brought to light for me.

I wish we could talk. I wouldn't even tell you how much I love you if I didn't think you wanted to hear it. I wish I could have you in my life somehow, even if it had nothing to do with romance or sex or kink or anything. I don't blame you for not trusting me, but I wish I could show you that you can. I don't want you to be some sort of gateway to him for me. I want you to talk to me, and I want you to be my friend. If something else were to happen later, then fine. If not, I can handle it. What I can't handle is not having you in my life at all. The past 8 months have been hell, loving someone who didn't even want to speak to me.

Will you be my friend? Please? Even if this makes me sound like the most pathetic excuse for a human being alive?

~Bunny





Dear Y,

What happened? You've been my best friend, my confidante, my one true ally, my everything, basically, for the last 9 years. And now you're gone. If you believe that all the tears I've cried over this situation are only for X and Z, then you have no idea how wrong you are.

I'm sorry for all I did. I'm sorry for putting you through all the shit I put you through. I only wish you had told me years ago, so that I might've been able to fix it. Or I wish you'd let me try to fix it now. It's so hard to live knowing that I've hurt the one person in the world who, until recently, stood by me no matter what.

I'm sorry you thought I didn't care about you, thought that you were only incidental to my life. That was NEVER the case, I swear. I care about you

I'd hoped we could salvage our friendship. God, how I'd hoped. I don't know what I should do. I've tried to actively pursue fixing things, but I felt like I was annoying you or pushing you too hard. I've tried backing off to see if you'd make any motion to come to me. But I haven't talked to you at all in...probably a month now.

It makes me sad. For a lot of reasons.

But I feel like I lost you a long, long time ago, and I have no idea what to do to get you back. I don't know if you even WANT to be in my life anymore. The lack of word from you makes me think you don't, but maybe you've got your reasons, too.

I'll ask you like I asked X. Give me a chance. I don't blame you for being wary. I don't blame you for keeping your distance for awhile. But I want to make it up to you. Understand I've only been completely stable for about 6 weeks now. I was better after I got on my meds. I didn't have such huge mood swings. I had a floor and a ceiling, finally, but I was still rapid-cycling between the top of the ceiling and the bottom of the floor. But the last med tweak back at the end of May squashed that. And since then, a lot of things have changed in my mind.

I want to be honorable. I want to do the right thing, by you, by everyone. I want my best friend back.

Will you be my friend? Please?

~Bunny





Dear Z,

I don't even know what to say to you. You betrayed me. I don't...I don't even know how to react to that. You KNEW how I felt about X, and you sabotaged it, anyway.

I guess the problem with getting involved with liars is that everyone gets burned in the end.

And you know what? You ARE a liar. A fat, lying, balding sonofabitch. A fat, lying, balding sonofabitch who'd probably sell his own mother to the devil if he thought for a second that it'd save his ass.

I made the mistake of trusting you and believing you'd never lie to me. I guess I should've realized that if you'd lie to other people without a second thought, you'd eventually do the same to me. But I can't believe that you'd do it over something that you KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt was so important to me.

I never cared about all the bitches you fucked. Or the dudes. I knew about far more of them than you ever told me, but I honestly didn't give a shit. But the one thing I did care about? You destroyed it. Yes, I admit that I had my own part in it, but you destroyed it just as sure as if you'd doused it in kerosene and struck a match to it. I had a dream last night that I turned a blind eye while a man killed another man in the next room. I knew it was about to happen. But I let it happen, anyway. If that's not a metaphor for my letting you destroy any chance of a relationship with her because I desperately wanted to believe that you weren't a liar, then I don't know what is.

WHY? That's what I still want to know. Was it the undeniable thrill of the lying and the cheating, despite the inevitability of getting caught? Did you get off on knowing you had us all dancing like puppets on strings for you? Why were you so determined to destroy something you'd claimed to want for years? What would lead you to such abuses of power that would break the hearts of EVERYONE involved in this situation?

And you're lying still. I guess you'll never stop.

Who'd you lie to? Her when you said our relationship was over before she found out what was going on? Me when you said you wanted more than anything to have us both--or us all, if you count Y?

I don't recall our relationship being "over." I remember that we argued a LOT. And you know what we argued over? Your refusal to tell X the truth, regardless of how much you knew it was hurting me not to tell her, regardless of how much you knew it'd hurt her to find out. But "over"? No. It wasn't. Not until your ass got busted on your bullshit, anyway.

And as for our relationship being based on nothing but sex, who's to blame for that? I've tried for years to drag you out of bed to improve what we had together. YOU were the one who claimed to be addicted to me. I wanted to make it healthy. I wanted there to be more between us than sex and kink, and you KNEW that. You swore that there was, but apparently, from what you told X, there wasn't.

Do you remember how you told me, before she found out, that we needed to do something to make our relationship healthier? And I agreed and said I'd think about it. I told you that the sex was what was hurting it, and you said the sex should stop (not that we'd been doing much of anything since the fall). And I replied that I'd agree with you if I weren't convinced that it was only the sex that was even keeping you in my life? Oh, you disagreed vehemently. Blah, blah, we'll always be friends, I'll always love you, blah, blah, blah.

Well, now the sex is done. And where are you?

Yeah. That's what I thought.

I'm so angry at you. And what I hate the most about the whole thing is that YOU'RE the one who orchestrated all this bullshit. Oh, yes, I played my part. We all did. But we played parts that you wrote, scripted, and directed just for us. It was surely our faults for falling into them so easily without question. But you've got a lot to answer for yourself for staging the whole goddamn soap opera in the first place.

It hurts so much that you led me to believe things that completely wrecked my chances with X, someone I love more than she'll ever believe. You could've helped FIX it, but instead, you chose the other path. I hate that she thinks I'm an awful person because you were determined to keep up the charade 'til the end. I hate that YOU'RE the one who lied to her, but you let her think it was me because she desperately wants to believe the best of you, even after all this shit. I hate that it's ME she booted out of her life because of it. And I hate that you're the cause of all the shit, but somehow you managed to come out smelling like a rose like you always do.

YOU lied. You still have her. I did stupid things, like believe the shit you told me, and I don't still have her.

But you know the worst part? I still love you. I always will. Even though the veil has been pulled away, and I see you for what you really are, the thought of my life without you--without ANY of you--just makes my whole life seem not living.

~Bunny





Dear X, Y, and Z,

I don't know what to do concerning the three of you. I don't know what you WANT me to do. The answer probably IS that I should walk away. But, for the life of me, I can't. My heart keeps telling me otherwise. And I've never been able to tell my heart no when it tells me something. I've tried to stay away, tried to keep my distance, but I can't do it forever.

I'm not asking for a "relationship." I'm not asking for sex. I'm just asking you to not bail on me completely. Please. The loss of just one of you is more than I can bear. The loss of all three of you takes all the colors out of the world. I can only see in shades of gray now.

I love you. All fucking three of you. It's up to you to believe it or not, but I'd never pour my heart out like this if I didn't. I wish you all understood.

~Bunny

A Bunny's Work Is Never Done

Busy Bunny Is Busy

God in Heaven, I'm never going to finish. I know this is my constant bitch, but I'm REALLY shit outta luck right now. I'm trying desperately to write web content for one site, knowing that T., the designer, is way ahead of me. But I had to give up because I realized what I was writing sounded like freaking infomercials. I PRAY I can get it done tomorrow because that's when she's gonna be finished with the design. Then, I get to start on another one. *Headdesk*

$400. I just keep saying that to myself over and over. $400. Possibly more if he likes the sites we're working on now.

But I swear, every time I check one thing off my to-do list, I add two more. At this rate, I'll be dead before I can come anywhere near breaking even.

Yes, I realize I'm bitching when I could be working, but I think my brain's shot for the night. I've been going for 10 hours today. I think it's time to do my own personal blogging, have a bowl of cereal, and call it a night.

Tired Bunny Is Tired

Also, is that not the most adorable thing in the world? It's so fitting for me, being a "little" bunny and all.


I started on a post called "Letters I Wish I Had The Balls To Send," but I don't think I have the brainpower to finish it tonight. I do plan on working on it the rest of the week, though, because I DO have some correspondence I'm going to be sending out as soon as I can get my thoughts together and have a little time to sit down and put some real thought into writing them. I think "Letters I Wish I Had The Balls To Send" will help me with this.

Hopefully, I can do write that post tomorrow or the next day.

Ugh, fuck these people and their deadlines.

Whereupon Bunny Gets Good News Mid-Blog-Post

I have felt so weird all day long. I went to bed last night at, like, 9 pm because I was just so tired. I slept off and on until about noon today. Then, when I got up, I felt so disconnected that I couldn't *do* anything. I mean, I legitimately felt like I was dreaming or watching myself from across the room or something. I tried to go back to bed a couple of times, but, of course, I couldn't sleep. I distinctly remember texting K. one of those times to ask if we'd really been talking earlier or if I was dreaming, LOL.

It was 7:30 this evening before I got it together enough to actually do something. But, mostly, this day has been a complete waste. When T. called me to talk to me about the contract that we hope we're getting, I'm convinced she thought I was on drugs or something. And though I woke up some, I still feel like shit. Tired, vaguely nauseated, etc.

OMG, T. just messaged me to say the contract went through. OMFG, I'm going to get to go back to school. *Happy dance*

I'm going to eat a bowl of cereal, I think, and see if I can't rest. I've got to feel better tomorrow, right? Then, I can get started on this project and several others of my own. And maybe even get my thoughts together enough to decide what I'm going to do about the other situation.

*Squeal* I can't believe it!

OMG, OMG, OMG

So my designer, T., whom I <3 contacted me today about a business proposal. She's got a guy who wants complete rehauls of his websites, both design and SEO. She and I talked about it, and she sent him a proposal over.  He's supposedly reviewing now and is going to get back to us soon.

I have my fingers crossed because it means $200 for me for every one of his websites that I lay my hands on.

Please, God, please let this happen.

Wishful Thinking, I Suppose

I know I should be working right now because I'm gonna be one broke-ass motherfucker for the next couple of weeks. Work is SO dead, and these morons are steady hiring MORE people.

*Facepalm*

But I want to blog right now instead of working. I'm excusing myself for this by saying I've got all damn night to work.


K.--who I need to give a nickname like Fangbunny's got, instead of just calling her "K." all the time--came over on Friday, and she just left about an hour or so ago. We worked a lot and then made no money. Then, we cleaned today. The living room, bathroom, and kitchen are clean now. :D She's coming back next week to help me do the bedroom, which is like a jungle. So I'm happy for that. Not just the cleaning, but being able to spend time with one of my bestest friends.

Also--totally random--but I got the Allegra, and it kicked my headache's ass. :D I just thought of it 'cause I was talking about K. because she went to Wal-Mart with me Friday night to get it.


Anyway, last night after the pay period ended, we were sick of working ourselves to death for zero money, so we decided we'd do something else. I actually had two Hello Kitty coloring books, one My Little Pony one, and one Disney Princess one sitting in the floor with a couple of boxes of crayons. And, well, let's be honest, you can't put two littles in a house together with coloring books and expect them not to color, LOL.

So we did. And we watched Alice in Wonderland. And talked about how we both regress. And how NOBODY freaking gets it.


I dunno, the little thing is something I'm not entirely sure I get about myself. Most people think it's some kind of roleplay that's cute for a little while, but starts to grate on their nerves before too long. And, yes, I *can* roleplay it. Whatever, you know?

But to a large degree, it's unconscious. I'll regress without realizing what I've done. Or if I realize it, I can't stop it. It just sort of happens. And I really hate when people are like, "Well, you're not *really* x years old." No, *physically*, I'm not. And I'm certainly not saying that I regress to worm out of responsibility or anything like that. But in a lot of ways my mind DOES work like a 5-year-old's. I think that's one reason that people often don't understand things that I say and do because my mind works completely differently.

I think I feel things completely differently, too. I think that's probably partly the reason I keep dwelling on the shit I'm currently dwelling on.


When K. and I were talking, we both decided we weren't really submissive. Not in the generally accepted sense of the term. I've tried. God knows, I've tried. Part of what wrecked relationships with people I cared about was me trying desperately to be a "slave" because I knew that was what *he* wanted. But I couldn't do it. I don't have it in me. And I end up being resentful because I'm treated like one.

I'm a little one. I want to be a good girl, but I fuck up sometimes (read: a lot). It's not that I want to be "punished" because that kind of thing pisses me the fuck off, but I need to be treated consistently and helped to *not* fuck up. I'm kind of a little princess, but I'll do anything--and I do mean *anything*--to make the people I love happy. I'm a fiercely loyal and devoted little princess, LOL.

I don't really like the whole Mommy/Daddy thing because it vaguely creeps me out, but I guess that's sort of what I need. A set of "big" people, male and female, who let me be little and maybe some other submissive types to sort of boss around like little girls do, LOL.

I need to love and be loved so much that I'll never, never, never be happy in a monogamous relationship. That much I know.


I guess that's one reason I'm so angry and hurt and sad right now. I basically *had* that. I mean, yes, when it was good, it was great, but when it was bad, it was awful. But the times when the good outweighed the bad was incredible, and I was so happy. I'm angry at myself for fucking it up, and I'm angry at him for his part in it as well. How can you lead me to believe things that weren't true when you KNEW that they were lies, and you KNEW that it'd ruin the one thing I truly wanted in this world?

I don't know that I'll ever get over it.


I dreamed about them last night. :(

It was a dream about me being little. I was wearing a little girl dress. My hair was long enough to put in pigtails. It was totally not sexual at all. I was just curled up in the floor with a pillow and my huge Hello Kitty who wears a pink dress, coloring, at her feet. Kitty was there, too. For some reason, she was wearing Kitty ears and alternating between coloring with me and sitting with them. And I was *happy*. And they were all happy I was there. And it wasn't like I was being showered in attention or anything. Everybody was sorta doing their own thing, talking to me sometimes and sometimes not. But when I finished coloring a picture, I held it up, and everybody told me how pretty it was and how much they liked it. Then, I'd giggle and blush a little and color another one.

After awhile, I got sleepy and put my head in her lap, and she ran her fingers through my hair and called me her babygirl like she used to. :( And he was being nice, too, and not trying to be like, "Oh, I think we should go tie the little girl up," like he does every five minutes in real life. *Eyeroll*


I know where the dream came from. Obviously, it was partly influenced by my being little with K. last night and partly because I can't get this whole thing out of my mind.

I know I need to do something. I just don't know what yet.

Headache!

When I was younger, I was prone to migraines. When I was with my dumbass ex, I got on birth control--Depo shot--because he was a fucktard. (Too bad I didn't know then that I didn't fucking NEED it.) Depo made my bad headaches even worse, which culminated in a stint on Topamax for migraine control. Topamax made me absolutely batshit, so I got off of it and the Depo.

The migraines got better, but then I started having cluster headaches, which are even worse. Imagine being punched in the back of the eyeball and simultaneously stabbed through the temple with a dull wooden stake on the same side by a demon who lives inside your skull and waits until the most inopportune times imaginable to fuck with you.

But this post is neither about migraines nor cluster headaches, though I've been having bouts of both over the past couple of months. I dunno if it's upping the Lamictal or what.

BUT the last several weeks, I've had a headache I can't get rid of. It hurts in my temples, but I can ignore that. But the pain in my eyes and orbital bones is ridiculous. It's enough to nearly bring me to tears when I move my eyes.

I was bitching about it to Fangbunny earlier, and she said she's been having that trouble lately, too. She also said there was even a bit about it on the news last week because so many people are apparently having that issue. Supposedly, it's a seasonal thing or something.

It leads me to believe it's allergy-related, since hay fever and such are things Fangbunny and I both have issues with. I've been seeing Allegra commercials when I was at K.'s (because I'm too poor for cable and patently uninterested besides). It's recently gone over-the-counter, and I've been wondering if it sucked as hard as Claritin does. But I'm getting desperate enough that I think I'm going to give it a try because this shit SUCKS.


In other news, K. just crossed the state line a few minutes ago. I need to go put the sheets for the bed she's gonna sleep on in the washing machine. Also, my not-brother texted. He's going to be in town with his girlfriend this weekend, and I suggested the four of us should all get together for dinner or something. So maybe this weekend won't suck too bad.


Going to wash sheets now. Adios.

Just Gonna Stand There And Watch Me Burn....

The One Fortunate Thing

I'm so glad K. is coming tomorrow. This lonely, depressive, whiny, feeling-sorry-for-myself spiral is not healthy at all.

She'll know what I should do.

I think I'm going to get offline. I know I need to work, but I think sitting here is just making me feel worse.

Well, The Truth Is....

I am overwhelmingly lonely today.

I've been trying to work, but it's too much. I'm behind, and I'm only managing to get even more behind, but I just can't do it today. I don't eat a lot anymore. Well, maybe every now and then I will. But mostly, I just pick at my food nowadays. Everything seems like it's just too much for me to manage.

There are various reasons for this and not a single one of them is pleasant.


I can't stop thinking about the mess I've made with the people that I love. ALL of them. It's not so much a self-pitying thing as a "Why do I always screw up, even when I don't mean to, even when I think I'm doing the right thing?" I suppose the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I thought leaving it to him to explain to her what was going on between us was the right thing to do. I mean, HE'S the one who's married to her, after all. And I *begged* him not to lie, begged him not to hide it, begged him not to put us all through the same old bullshit again...and what'd he do?

I should've known better than to trust him. He lies. He lies a LOT. You know, like how he told me she didn't want anything to do with me and that she'd never let me have another chance. And she told me that she would've been willing to give me another chance.

I'm an idiot for trusting without verifying. But I'm not a liar. At least, not intentionally.

And I DAMN sure didn't do it for his attention. I know she thinks I did. But considering the only attention I got from him--if you can call it that--was him showing up twice at my house when I was half-asleep (because both times he texted me when he was 5 whole minutes away from the house, waking me up and not really giving me the opportunity to say, "Uh, this is a bad idea") and staying for maybe an hour each time and talking on fucking Yahoo? Yeahhhh...that pain in the ass was definitely not worth what little "attention" I got.

I did it because I wanted to repair the relationship with EVERYONE. I thought the best way to do it was to talk to the one person of the whole group who was still speaking to me. And I trusted him when he said he was going to tell her. And he betrayed me.

Motherfucker.


No matter what, this situation makes me look bad. Regardless of how I DIDN'T--and I swear before God, I didn't--intend to set out to hurt or deceive.

He told me the last time I talked to him (post "I can't do this anymore" email) he desperately wanted everything to work out between all of us and that he wanted to give me everything I wanted and needed, if we could only find a way to do it without animosity and jealousy. He said he WANTED me to talk to her. He told her that our relationship was over. He told her he just didn't want to hurt me. He told me he wanted there to be a way to make it work.

So which is it? Or is it a little of both?


She's not what I thought she was. She's not a sociopath. She's a scared and insecure person in love with someone who lies to her and magnifies all her fears and insecurities. She's desperately trying to preserve a way of life that he's determined to trample all over.

It's not easy being in love with someone like that. Believe me, I know.


She thinks I lied to her to get what I wanted. She doesn't believe I'd ever tell her the truth again. But I was going to tell her everything--even BEFORE she found out. I'd already made up my mind. But then he had surgery, so everything got sidetracked.

I just wanted to talk to her. I STILL want to talk to her. I was going to offer her the opportunity to never have to *wonder* if he's lying to her again. Because, regardless of whether he walked away from me for good (or I walked away from him for good), that fear would always be in the back of her mind. And I wanted to alleviate it. I intended to do this the right way.

But I fucked it up.


But you know what? Now that I know without a doubt that he's been lying and playing us off against each other still, I don't even know that I still WANT anything to do with him. I love him. I do. And I'm perfectly aware of what an idiot it makes me. But I can't trust him.

But I didn't approach her solely for him. I may have framed it that way, but I was too fucking scared to tell the whole truth, that I missed her as much as I missed him.

I know I need to leave it alone. But I want so badly to apologize to her, so badly to set the record straight, so badly to get these things off my conscience. I wish she knew how I felt about her. I mean, REALLY knew. I wish she understood that it wasn't just *him* I was trying to get to. It wasn't just Kitty. It was her, too.

I just wish I could make her believe me, and I wish I could make her understand.


I love her. She'll never believe me. I hate myself for being such a massive fuck-up.

And that's where it stands right now.

Can I please have my triumphant return to alcoholism now?

Sleep

All the shit in my life is having a deleterious effect on my sleep.

I don't sleep well. I wake up a zillion times. I have crazy dreams that exhaust me, so I wake up more tired than I was when I went to bed.

Last night, I took a sleeping pill in hopes of resetting myself. Instead, I woke up exhausted and didn't shake the fuzzy feeling off until roughly midnight.

I also had an awful dream that involved Fangbunny being in a train wreck. It was so godawfully vivid that I had to text her (in New York) this morning at 5 am to make sure she was ok. :(

It's not that I believed the train wreck really happened. I'm just kinda superstitious in certain ways, I guess. I wanted to make sure nothing had happened to her, train or otherwise.

I hate this shit. :(

Your Best Bet Is Just To Stay Away, Motherfucker

Ok, now that I have sufficiently calmed down, I will explain the last post.

My grandmother was to have come home from the nursing home today. My mother has spent the last three weeks cleaning and getting the house ready for her to return home. This includes buying new furniture for the living room (because the old lady shit all over the old furniture, so my mama had to throw it all out), buying air conditioners so it'd be comfortable (because the old bitch uses the HEAT in the dead of summer and never turned on the old air conditioners, so they didn't work anymore), cleaning up shit--literal shit--on her hands and knees like a goddamn slave (despite the fact that she's the only one with a *real* job and has used every bit of her vacation time and is going to have to use FMLA leave now to keep from getting fired, PLUS the fact that the last place someone who's had knee surgery in the last 6 weeks needs to be is on her knees scrubbing), setting up the sitters coming to sit with the old woman for 8 hours a day, and so forth.

Also, she's spent $2,100--of her own money, not the old lady's--buying the furniture, the air conditioners, and all that good stuff. She did all this HERSELF because my dumbass aunt was all like, "C. (my mother), you decide what to do. I can't make the decision. I don't know what to do. You take care of it," and so on and so forth ad fucking nauseam.

So you know what happens today, after all that time and effort and money spent by my mother and no one else getting that house ready? Oh, my dumbass fucking aunt decides it'd be "easier" on her if the old lady just stayed at her house.

All that time and effort and PAIN on my mother's behalf down the drain. Not to mention the $2,100 that she'll never get back.


I told you that story to tell you this one.

My sophomore year of college, my mother, foreseeing that the old bitch's mental capacity was going straight to hell in a handbasket, went to the bank and withdrew all the money my grandma had in her CDs, her interest-bearing accounts, etc. The only thing she left was the account into which the old bitch's Social Security check was deposited every month. This was so that if she ever had to go into the nursing home, they couldn't take all this money.

In all, there was about $50,000 taken out of the bank for safekeeping. Keep this figure in mind as you read the rest of the story.

What my mother did, instead of burying the money in the backyard or whatever, was get a safety deposit box at the bank. She put her name and my aunt's name on it. The money was then divided up between them *at my grandmother's request*. My mama and my aunt each got around $12,000 each. The remaining $26,000 or so was saved for my grandmother's use. This money was put into 3 different envelopes in the box and left there. My grandmother's envelope was not to be touched unless the old lady specifically asked for the money.

Within months, my aunt had already blown through her $12,000. Months, people. God only knows how. I barely made more than $12,000 all of last YEAR.

Anyway, after running through that $12,000 like so much water, she got into what was my grandma's money, even though she'd agreed that neither she nor my mama would take any of it for themselves as long as the old lady was alive. She "snuck" various amounts of money out for years.

Recently, my mother went down to the safe deposit box to take out my grandma's envelope before my aunt could get it all. Know how much was left? $5,000. Yes. $5,000.

Yes, this lazy, whiny, indecisive, "I'm-too-sorry-to-get-a-real-job" bitch flat out fucking STOLE $21,000. Not to mention spending her own $12,000 faster than it takes for water to get hot.

How in the name of bloody fucking hell do you just WASTE $33,000? I mean, even if I were rich and didn't need it, I don't think I'd piss away that much money in so little time. Maybe it's because I was born poor and brought up poor and still am poor, but I just don't get it. She literally wasted every dime of it on shit she didn't need, like "more furniture because the dogs had scratched hers up" and $1,000 mattress because she can't sleep on cheaper ones and shit like that.


So if we add the $21,000 that she stole, the $2,100 that she caused my mama to throw away on *nothing*, and the $40 a week my mama pays her to clean her house because she feels sorry for her, how much money does that amount to? Probably nearly enough to pay off my fucking student loans!

Now why do you think she wants the old lady at her house? Why, because she smells money, of course! If my grandma is there, my aunt can constantly hit my mama up for money "for their mother" because she knows my mama's a sucker and will give it to her.

These entitled motherfuckers won't get JOBS. They sit around and whine about how they don't have any money, and then they expect my mama to support them all. But my grandma's money is GONE because THEY pissed it away. Apparently, they think my mama has taken them to raise, and it makes me so fucking mad. They don't know what not having money is. Not having money is when you have to decide whether you want to eat or pay the power bill, so they don't cut your shit off, which would make it so you can't work. It's not "I don't have the money for expensive furniture."

Fuck you. You don't have any fucking clue what life's like because you've always had someone there to give you handouts. Grow the fuck up and work like everybody else has to do.


Oh, wanna know the kicker? My mama told my aunt that she was going to have to change the sitter arrangements because they were currently under the impression they were supposed to sit with my grandma at her own house. Then, my mama informed my aunt that it's going to cost about $500 a week to PAY the sitter. Know what my aunt said?

"Well, I can probably contribute $100 a month."

Oh, thank you for your generous contribution, you fucking cunt.


You know, it's not my grandma's money that bothers me. She's never given me anything worth a shit in my life, so why should I expect it when she dies? And, personally, I'm not one of those people who cares that much about money because I've never had it, I'm not likely to ever have it, and I've seen how crazy it runs people (see above if you don't believe me).

What DOES bother me is how my mama has run herself nearly crazy for these idiots. She gives and gives and gives--money, time, effort, sympathy, everything--and all they do is just stand there with their hands out and holler, "MORE, MORE, MORE!"

It's not fair. It's not right. It's going to drive my mother to an early grave. She says it's not worth it, to just let it go, but I think she's wrong. It IS worth it. My mama is batshit; I know this. But she's still my mama, and I know she's 100 times better than anything else that ever came out of that side of the family because, narcissist or not, she's still got something resembling a conscience.

Plus, all the bullshit makes her nearly impossible to be around because she takes her anger at them out on US (my daddy and me).


I still haven't decided against telling them what I think. Or telling my daddy what happened and letting him handle it. Or having us both go down there.

Of course, I guess the last laugh will be when the old lady finally dies, and all these money-hungry sonsofbitches like my aunt, my mama's other sister, my cousin, etc. all find out that there IS no more money left.

No, goddammit. The last laugh will be mine. I may not do it before my mama dies, but I'm going to tell my aunt that she can either give back all the money that she took, be sued, or sign her part of the deed on my grandma's house over to me. Her choice.

I don't want the goddamn money. By then, I plan on being independently wealthy. I'll donate it all to someone or give it to my friends or something. It's just the fucking principle of the thing.

What a fucking screwed up bunch.


I have tons more to say, but I have way too much to do before I go to bed tonight to say it. Maybe soon.

I'm Just Curious

I just got off the phone with my mother.

How much time do you reckon I'd get for firebombing a house? I could possibly plead insanity...or maybe even incompetent to stand trial.

I'll explain later. When I finish shaking with pure rage.

*Giggle*

For those of you who were anxiously holding your breath--that is to say, no one--I'm home now. I think K. is coming over on Friday to help me clean this place. I can stand it no longer, but I don't think I can do it all by my damn self.

The giggle in the title? Because my mother took my advice and reported the "incident" the other day to the sheriff's department. She declined to file charges, but she wanted it on record, in case there's any further troubles. Then, she crawled the director of the nursing home's ass for releasing the information that the old lady was there in the first place when they were specifically told NOT to in order to keep some bullshit drama like that happening.

Honestly? I'm hoping the bitch shows up at my grandma's house tomorrow, and I'm hoping my mama beats her ass and then has her arrested, LOL.

I'm still not entirely sure I shouldn't show up down there, too. You know, sit around and talk a lot of shit until I can provoke someone (because she'll probably bring her husband, too, this time for reinforcements--like anybody's scared of his fat, bald ass) into laying hands on me and then plant their face through the kitchen window.

Dear God, my blog posts get more redneck every day. Oh, well, back to my roots, etc., etc., etc. At least I've never actually *acted* on my violent impulses, yes?


I feel like I've been hit by a bus. I think I need to try to take a sleeping pill and get some rest tonight. I don't want to risk another round of batshit. After 2-3 nights of less than 8 or 9 hours of sleep, I usually try to drug myself to avoid a manic spell, since loss of sleep can cause mania, and mania can cause loss of sleep. Then, the two feed off one another until I'm imagining snipers in the parking lot again.

*Eyeroll*

Note to self: Stop listening to your father's conspiracy theories.

Anyway, despite the fact that the caffeine pills in the morning and the sleeping pills in the evening are making me feel somewhat like Elvis, I feel fairly certain I'm not going to die on the toilet. Not tonight, anyway. I'm pretty sure we'd need amphetamines and barbiturates for that, and I fear I can't talk anyone into giving them to me. ;)

I really do think I'm going to hit the Unisom and see if I don't feel better tomorrow. My eyes are burning, I'm so tired. Think I'll go read David Copperfield--which is slowly turning into my new favorite Dickens book, after the free Kindle download of Dickens' complete works--until I pass out.

Just Wanted To Say

I really want a teddy bear. A really soft, squishy, snuggly, fat brown teddy bear.

I'm not sure why. I just do.

I'm So Tired, But I Can't Sleep...

...mostly because it's hotter than sub-Saharan Africa in here right now.

I'm actually going home tomorrow. I need to get out of K.'s hair, *and* I need to go somewhere cool, so that I can sleep. I've felt like hell the past few days because when I'm *sweating*, my sleep suffers badly.

Incidentally, I will be popping a No-Doze before I drive home tomorrow.


Today has been extremely devoid of drama, compared to yesterday. There was a minor kerfluffle between my boss, T., and my former boss, B., who's now a manager, blah, blah, blah. (Yes, I totally wrote this paragraph for the sole purpose of using the word "kerfluffle" because I think it's adorable.)

B.'s using coke again. Personally, I doubted that she ever stopped. Anyway, she owes T. money for work she *didn't* do, and T. called her on her bullshit.

Somebody needed to. B.'s been crying to me, and I feel bad for her to some degree, but she also brought this on herself. But I also didn't have the heart to say, "Grow the hell up and take some responsibility for what you've done, so that you can go and get better, or else stop wallowing." I guess I enable to some extent.

But *damn*. I've fucked up a lot. I took responsibility. I'm better. Well, better psychologically. Emotionally, I'm still a naive idiot, which wrecked a bunch of shit, but....*Sigh*

I didn't like the person I was when I looked in the mirror, so I changed it. I still don't entirely like what I see, so I'm still working on it. I only have so much patience and so much sympathy for people who whine and whine and whine about how much their lives suck, but refuse to get up off their asses and do anything to change it. I mean, it's one thing to try to change and do the wrong thing because you don't know *what* to do. It's another entirely to just not do *anything*.

In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing is nothing. ~Teddy Roosevelt, whom I admire immensely

Ok, off soapbox now.


Speaking of good old Teddy, this one is a perennial favorite and one I tell myself every day of my life, so I *don't* just sit back and give up like B. and others.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

I'm a lot of things, folks. But a quitter is not one of them. Not when it's something I truly believe in.

The Level Of Batshit In My Life Is Officially Through The Roof

Ok, this is officially going to be the most white trash post I've ever made. But OMG, these people are fucking nuts.

So I'd been working for awhile earlier this evening, right? I sorta got hungry, and so did K., so we decided to go to IHOP. My mama called and wanted to know if I had some time. I was like, yeah, sure. And she said she was on her way home and to call me when I got back to the house because she had something to tell me.

Ok, I hurried to finish eating and got back and called her. She told me she'd been to the nursing home today to see my grandmother, as usual. And my grandma's other daughter--the one who we don't claim--showed up. My mama ignored her because she really doesn't give a damn about this bitch and her drama.

So, finally, she got pissed about being ignored and told my mama, "You need to get your act together," and flounced out. My mama ran her down and was like, "I need to do what? Where have you been the last SEVENTEEN YEARS when we had to take care of YOUR mother?"

And do you know what this crazy fucking bitch does? She turns around, calls my mama a bitch, and SLAPS HER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NURSING HOME.

My mama was holding a glass a water, so she threw it in this bitch's face. Then, the bitch tried to grab her and claw her, so my mama got her by the arm, dug her fingernails in, and said, "If you think you can handle it, bring it on."

Bitch jerked her arm loose and took off outta there, LOL. I guess she knew she was about to tote an ass-whipping.

I told my mama she ought to press charges. Not because she needs the police to do anything because I know she can handle it herself, but because how funny would it be for this bitch to get hauled off to jail?

I mean, really? You play this "I'm so good and pious and perfect" act in public, and then you, the deacon's wife, show up at a nursing home to see the mother you've never lifted a finger to help, then call your own sister a bitch and then slap her across the face? On a *Sunday*, at that?

Jesus Christ.

My mother thinks the bitch will show up at my grandma's house when she comes out of the nursing home on Wednesday. Since the house actually belongs to my mama now (her name's been on the deed for years), I'm pretty sure the shit will hit the fan.

I'm *really* tempted to go down there. I'd love to break that bitch's face for laying hands on my damn mama. I don't know who the fuck she thinks she is.

Or I could go burn her house down.

Hmm....

If I go to jail anytime soon, you'll know why.


Also, my not-brother texted *right* after I talked to my mama saying he's being kicked out of his house by his parents. Randomly. For no reason.


I was telling Fangbunny about all this online, and she was like, "God, is it a full moon?" So I looked it up, and, apparently, the full moon was last night. That's close enough for me!

Agony

So I've been here at K.'s for three days. Mostly--because we're so outrageous (and so busy working)--it's been enough to keep my mind off things. At least, except when we talk about them. But K. usually goes to bed a couple hours earlier than me. I wish I could go, but I'm still an hour behind her time-wise, and I usually stay up until nearly daylight, anyway. And then I can't help but think. Even when I don't want to.

As a matter of fact, I'm sitting here working on some work shit for the express purpose of avoiding writing this blog. But I know I need to do it. Maybe if I put it on paper, it'll stop churning around in my fucking head. The good news is, I'm pretty sure no one reads this fucker anymore, so I guess I can by God say whatever I want to, yes?

I've been agonizing. Over many aspects of this massive pile of bullshit the Universe has dumped on me. And praying, too, if you can believe that shit. Not like, "Oh, please, please, let me have what I want," mostly because I don't know WTF I want anymore. It's been more like, "Please help me figure out what I'm supposed to do."

I know she doesn't want me to contact her anymore. And I know I should respect her wishes. I *know* this. But, on the other hand, I feel like there's a great cosmic wrong that won't be righted until I a.) apologize for misjudging her so badly, and b.) explain a few things.


The other thing I can't figure out is why in the name of hell he lied to BOTH of us. Well, I'm going on the assumption that it's him. He's the one with the worst track record here.

She told me that if I'd gotten in touch with her that we could've talked and tried to work something out. Now, she could've been lying. I don't know. But I feel like there would be no point in her lying to me if she thought she'd never talk to me again.

He told me repeatedly that she didn't want anything to do with me. When I asked if I should approach her, he said he'd handle it. (Shame on me for believing that shit.) He said she'd never go for it again, that there was too much that had already happened between us. And I repeatedly questioned if he thought that not telling her was the right way to handle it, and I got told he'd do it "when the time was right." That is to say, never.


There are other lies that it's obvious he's told from her email. I don't know which of us he lied to, or if he lied to us both. But that's neither here nor there. What I really want to know is how much of my dislike of her and how much of her dislike of me is either from listening to his spin on things or from judging a situation that he has obviously manipulated.

A lot of the things she knows about me, she got through him. A lot of the things she's heard about me saying came from him. And vice-versa. So how much of this stuff has been run through his filter and made both of us look bad to one another?

And WHY in the name of all things holy did he try so desperately to keep us apart this time when *I* was willing to give it another go--really, really WANTED to give it another go, actually--and *she* was willing to give it another go if I'm to believe the email she sent me (and I don't think there's any reason not to believe it)? What the FUCK did he hope to accomplish by doing that? When I motherfucking BEGGED him to tell the truth because I wanted the people I loved back in my life? What earthly purpose did all this shit serve?


I have my suspicions. But I'm going to keep them to myself until I've had more time to ruminate.


It just bothers me that I let him manipulate me into destroying something with people I love. It bothers me that she thinks I'm a liar. It bothers me that even if I tell her the God's honest truth as I know it, she's not going to believe a word I say.

Even if I told her how much I loved her and missed her and wanted her back and DAMN him because I don't even know if I want anything with him anymore, given how much he's betrayed me.

Just Another Day In The ATL

I've had a pretty productive day at Kayla's today. I think she's gonna come back home with *me*, too, when I leave to hang out and help me clean the house. My boss, T., is paying me--get this--$150 for unhacking her site. I was like, OMG, it's so not worth that! But she won't hear of paying me less. So I guess I'm gonna take it, LOL.

As far as the other shit...I have some things I've got to get off my conscience. I just have to figure out exactly how I'm going to pull this off. I know she doesn't want to talk to me, but I'm the kind of person that if any injustice is done--to anyone--even if I'M the one who did it, I can't just let it stand.

I fucked up. And I need to atone for it.

There are other things I have to do as well, but I MUST do this. If I live long enough, I will see it righted, somehow. I know she's going to think I have some kind of ulterior motive, but I don't.

I just have to figure this out.

But first, I have tons of work to do. Thank God, I have K. helping me, or I'd die before it was all finished.

Bedtime. Night.

I'm A Fucking Idiot

Ever just had a realization smack you right in the face? Something you should've seen for a long time, but didn't because you didn't *want* to?

I don't feel like elaborating right now, but I'm going to put this out there. You know how I said that she was a sociopath? I was wrong. Oh, there *is* a sociopath in this situation, but it's not her.

My God, I misjudged so fucking badly. I've got to make this up somehow.

As Usual...

...I am going to see K. again. She's going to get perfectly sick of me showing up every time I have a hangnail. :(

But I honestly feel like she is the only person in the world who really understands what I am going through because she has been on the reverse side of the same situation. I can talk to her, and she can help me see things in ways I wouldn't have been able to see on my own.

Yes, it's the crazy leading the crazy. But, sometimes, that's the only way to see the light, you know?

Going to shower and pack and head out.

I can't even drink. I managed about 4 or 5 sips and couldn't stomach anymore. There are no pills worth a damn in this house. I have no one to talk to. This is the first time in my life I've truly felt alone. And I keep wondering, what's the goddamn point? The rest of my life is going to be just like this. So why do I bother?

Ok

Jack Daniel's. If I don't, I'll do something stupid.

Sitting at home alone drinking is far better than the alternative.

Once crisis mode has passed, I will sit down and compose myself and do what my rational mind thinks is best. But right now, I need to stop myself from doing *anything* because whatever I do will undoubtedly be ill-advised.

The one thing she's wrong about? She has no idea how I feel about her. NO idea. I don't suppose she'll ever know how much I'm in love with her. For God's sake, did she really think that this whole me swallowing my pride and looking like a jackass was ALL for him, the one who's determined to play both ends against the middle to save his ass til the bitter end? Some of it was. Probably half of it. The other half was for her. I just didn't want to say it. I was too afraid to say it.

And my fear of her, of her ability to shred my heart into a million pieces without even trying, is what wrought this whole pile of shit to start with.

I wasn't asking for another chance. I was asking for a conversation. And one of the people I love most in this world shut me out completely before I even got the opportunity to say what was on my mind and in my heart.


I wonder how long it takes to drink yourself to death....

What Was The Point?

Everything I said--everything--was misunderstood. Misconstrued. I...don't even know what to do with that. It's not the "no" that bothers me. It's that what I said was not what connected in her brain. In fact, it was just the opposite.

I'm going to clear the air, if nothing else. I've never been able to let misconceptions stand.

But I have to think on it some more.

So much for sleep tonight.: :|

The Dancing Monkey

So much for getting anything done today. Between fixing T.'s (my boss) hacked site and doing a couple of other things, this day's been shot to hell, too. I had to get up and go to the bank and the post office before they closed today, so I hurried over there, and I went ahead and went to the grocery store (finally) after that. Which took forever because Wal-Mart sucks. Then, the bottom fell out as I was trying to get everything brought in the house. Once I ate and was about to start working, I realized that one site of T.'s was down, thus beginning my quest to figure out what was wrong. It'd been hacked, like I alluded to in the previous post, and I had to UNhack it.

Which I did because I'm amazing. And so modest, too. But what'd 50 say? "I talk a lot of shit 'cause I can back it up"....


Anyway.

Yesterday was the pest control dude waking me up. Today was the roofers coming at 9:30 and staying up there until I left the house between 3:30 and 4. Also, it was about 6 before I got to sleep. So 3 fucking hours before these assholes started banging around above me. *Sigh*

God, I'll be glad when it's winter again. I hate the cold, but at least then there aren't always people fucking around here and keeping me awake.

I know it's super-early, but I think I'm going to finish this, do one more thing, have a bowl of cereal, and go the fuck to bed, perhaps with the help of a sleeping pill. Maybe an earlier start tomorrow will make me more productive. Besides, too many more nights of no sleep will make me crazy. This I know for a fact. Lack of sleep will cause mania, and mania will cause lack of sleep. If I go more than a couple of days without sleeping, I go on and drug myself nowadays to stomp that shit out before it really has time to get started.

Which I think is the best way to handle it, honestly.


Ok, this is something I've been thinking about awhile. It bothers me how I always have to be the one to reach out to people. I feel like I have to make an ass out of myself for their amusement pretty regularly. It's rare, though, that I have anyone reach out to me instead. I hardly ever get a "Hey, can we talk?" as a way to work through things before the shit hits the fan. I *never* get a "What's wrong?" or an "Is there anything I can do?"

Or, as has been the case lately, I reach out to people--multiple people, mind you, not just the current situation I've been agonizing over--and they just blow me off completely. It really hurts my feelings. I like to think that, as a person, I'm worthy of having my gestures responded to.

But maybe I'm not. :(


Speaking of the situation I'm agonizing over...I'm following up on it. I've already made enough of an ass out of myself. Might as well be the dancing monkey once more, right? :|


Edit: Never mind. I just got an email. Fuck my life.

HA!

Dear Hacker,

You really can't call yourself much of a hacker if your idea of having "own3d" someone is by cracking their Wordpress password, deleting the admin name, and changing the page template on the theme. It took me a whole 15 minutes to fix it, once I figured out what the problem was. Thanks for making it easy for me, and thanks for being a fucktard because my fixing your idiocy is netting me extra pay from my boss! :D

~Teh Bunneh

Also-Also

Today's horoscope:

Approaching conflicts in a direct manner is a wise strategy that will save you time.

Hmm....Not that I buy any of that shit, but it's probably good advice nonetheless.


Ok, really going the fuck to bed now, like I should've done 2 or 3 hours ago.

Also?

I want my best friend back, goddammit. :(

Dear Life, Please Stop Sucking

I am suddenly overwhelmed with everything. It's a combination of physical tiredness (I didn't get to sleep until nearly 8 am, and then I was rudely awakened by the pest control guy's creditor knock a few short hours later), mental and psychological weariness, too much to do, too little time to do it, and WAY too much drama in my life. I've reached that point where I don't want to do anything but curl up in bed and hide away from the world. I haven't logged into one of my jobs since last Wednesday. Admittedly, it's because I've been working on the other 2? 3? 4?

I don't even know how many jobs I technically have anymore. *Facepalm*

It was like the being overwhelmed feeling hit out of nowhere, less than an hour ago. I had plans to concentrate this week on things I've been needing to do but have put off in favor of other, more pressing things. And what have I done? Jack motherfucking shit.

I have literally accomplished two things today. The rest has been me doing a little here and a little there, all amounting to basically nothing.

The temptation to temporarily up the Wellbutrin is great. A week-long euphoric mania would get EVERYTHING done and then some. Then, just back it back down before it turned ugly. I could even get the house clean. When I first started the Wellbutrin, before I got the Lamictal, I cleaned it all except my bedroom in one night, basically.

But I know I shouldn't. Life is already making me want to pull my hair out, and I'm stable. Let's not make it any worse. So I shall resist the temptation.

My mother called me with more grandmother drama. I've also spent the last few days listening to my father bitch about my mother. If my mother weren't so caught up in this grandma shit, she'd be bitching about him, too. I have put up with this for TWENTY YEARS. Yes, you read that right. Twenty. I could repeat their complaints about one another verbatim. It's so annoying, being stuck in the middle. It's not as bad now that I'm out of the house now. Nothing like it was when I was in, you know, GRADE SCHOOL. But, good Lord, you'd think they'd get tired of saying the same shit over and over to the same person.

But you would be wrong. I honestly believe these people *live* to make each other miserable. They'll never get divorced because then what would they have to bitch about?

God, and people wonder why I have such a negative view of marriage and why I can't have drama-free relationships. You'd think it'd be patently obvious, LOL.

I need to go to the grocery store still. The cramps are so bad that I haven't even wanted to *move*, though. Unfortunately, there's really nothing here to eat. I totally had leftover "spaghetti" (read: macaroni noodles and canned chunky veggie spaghetti sauce) and a bologna sandwich for supper. You know you're a broke ass who needs to go grocery shopping when that's what you have for dinner. It sounds like the beginning of a Jeff Foxworthy joke. *Eyeroll*


****TMI Alert****

Also? This period? Jesus Christ. It's vile.

I use the Instead cups because they're a thousand times better than tampons and a million times better than adult diapers--err, pads. Anyway, the manufacturers say you can go up to 12 hours without changing them. I can usually manage to go 6-8 hours, whereas with tampons, it's more like 2-4. But, damn, this time, I'm having to change the cups like they're tampons, every 2-4 hours. :(

I don't know WTF is wrong with me. I'm blaming it on all the aspirin, Tylenol, and Advil I've been taking to kill these godawful headaches I can't get rid of. Maybe they're thinning my blood a lot? I dunno.

I think I'm hemorrhaging to death. :(

****End TMI****


God, I've turned into a whiny-ass bitch. Or maybe I've always been one and am just now noticing. *Eyeroll*

I can't decide if I want to go to bed or sit up and pretend to fuck around and work on various site shit. Can I have an official decision-maker? I'm about as good at making decisions as I am at singing, which is to say that I'm like the Taylor Swift or the Ke$ha of decision-making. I'm bad at it and would like to avoid it as much as possible.

Too bad the rest of the world appears to be even WORSE at it than I am. It annoys the living hell out of me that the majority of the people around me--mostly family, but others, too--just waver and equivocate and act wishy-washy until I get pissed off and make the damn decision *for* them. Dude, I'm TERRIBLE at this. Don't make me do it because you're too lazy, useless, stupid, or any combination of the three to do it.

Honestly, I think the problem is that most people would rather equivocate and waffle than make a decision because deciding to do something means you have to get off your ass and take action. And God forbid. We can't have that. It might lead to dancing. :O

/soapbox


Also, I saw this today and thought it was amusing, in light of my current "I hurt and hate the whole world" whining:

Also, it appears that "EverythingIDoIsWrong.org" is an actual functional website, LOL.

Tiredness

I just finished writing two websites' worth of content. But that's ok. I have my SEO sites up and running now.

Tomorrow, I have to rewrite four of those blogs I wrote last night for a stupid, ungrateful bitch who can't be bothered to explain what she wants or how she wants it done. *Headdesk*

If you pay for a service and don't say what you want, it's your fault if you don't get it. Just sayin'.

Mostly, I'm just trying to stay busy to forget about...things. It's not really working, but I hope if I keep telling myself it is, I'll start to believe it.

It's gotta get better sometime...right? :(



Solid on the surface as I crumble within
But legends are made out of vulnerable men
So on the brink of death, I still manage livin' life
'Cause so rarely in this world are these chances given twice
I indeed sold my soul without glancing at the price

To Add Insult To Injury...

Taco Bell didn't even have any chicken, so I didn't get any Chicken Ranchero soft tacos. *Cries*

So I didn't get to have the dinner I wanted, AND I didn't get to have the dessert I wanted. Which leaves me one very unsatisfied bunny. Which means I'll probably be grazing all damn night because I couldn't have what I wanted. :(

I hurt all over. I have no idea where my heating pad is. And I don't really have any meds here that'll help because I've been popping them left and right for these killer headaches I've had recently. Maybe I can get some tomorrow because I really need to go to the grocery store, anyway.

At least I know why my hip and back were hurting, I guess. They always give trouble around this time of month. :(

Ok, forgive me, but I'm going to be whiny. It happens when I'm in pain. Besides, this is my blog, so I reckon I can bitch and moan and whine all I want to.

I'm off sex for awhile. Like, that's my vow to myself. I mean, even if this shot in the dark works--which I am rapidly losing hope for, by the way--and I somehow end up with the world's biggest pain in the ass (a.k.a, the boy) back in my life, there will be no sex for a good while. I'm trying to get my head together, for one. And if--big IF--there's to be any chance of things working out between him and me, assuming I get the chance to even try, there can be no sex. We've had deep, deep problems for many years that we've never solved because we obscured them with sex. And those problems have continued to jump up and bite us in the ass repeatedly because we haven't dealt with them. Thus, sex is off the table until I see if anything is salvageable or not. And even if I don't get the chance to try to see if I can fix shit with him, I'm still exiling myself. I have too many sex issues to work out first before I go running out and finding the next dumbass who comes along to fuck.

Ok. That was a tangent, sorry. But I wanted to make this as clear as possible, LOL.

I'm a very lonely little girl. (Yes, when I hurt, I regress to little girl mode. Fuck you if you don't like it.) I want someone I love to come and snuggle close to me. I DON'T want sex. I want to be held. I want the warmth of a loved one's body to take the place of my lost heating pad. I want to be massaged. I want sweet words and maybe kisses. I just want to cling and cling and cling until I stop hurting and go to sleep. That's all I want. :(

I hurt outside. I hurt inside. I would like to escape it for awhile. Even my old pal alcohol isn't going to fix it this time. :(

As the days go by, my hopes for an answer get dimmer, honestly. I was hoping for a guarded "Ok, we can try to talk" at best or at least a "Kiss my ass" at worst. As I've said before, I think indifference hurts the worst. Hope is a cruel emotion, but I'm going to keep clinging to it and making excuses in my mind, at least for a few more days.

I wish she'd at least hear what I had to say before telling me to go to hell, though. :( I mean, I've *really* put a lot of thought into this, and I believe I've come up with something fairly revolutionary in the way of handling this shitty situation. But I dunno. Maybe I was wrong to even try. I probably was. :(

Yeah...this blog took a turn I didn't mean for it to take, but whatever. I'm not deleting. I don't care anymore. :| I really just wanted to whine about how much my back and hip hurt and how badly I want someone to baby me a little.


Good Lord. I'm sitting here eatimg sugar-free chocolate icing out the can and drinking diet sparkling strawberry lemonade straight out of the bottle. Straight out of the...*ahem*...two-liter bottle. I am truly the epitome of class and sophistication. A paragon, I tell you. A paragon.

See? If I were REALLY five years old, I wouldn't have this problem. ;)

This Blog Has The Presidential Seal Of Approval!

Not really. Fangbunny just said it, and I thought it was funny. :D


Yes, I am talking nonsense because I just pounded a minimum of 3150 words. A MINIMUM. I'm fairly sure there were more. This stupid bitch who always waits til the last minute to send me my writing jobs needed four 350-400 word blogs and seven 250-300 word ones. And of COURSE, she needed them by tonight. *Headdesk*

But I did it somehow. Unfortunately, now my brain is completely freaking fried, and I know I have shit I need to say, but I've got no fucking clue how to say it.

Also, my mama sent some peach cobbler home with me today, and I promptly upended it on my front steps, trying to get the sticking-ass front door to open. I wanted that for dessert. :( But given the run of bad luck I've had lately, it kinda figures.

Despite the talk of dessert, I've lost another 10 pounds or so, bringing the grand total up to about 25 since April.

NOW, I want Taco Bell. I started today, and I'm exhausted from not sleeping well at my parents'. So yeah. Even if this completely ruins my "diet," I need a couple of Chicken Ranchero tacos. The good news is, they're some of Taco Bell's "healthy" shit.

Yo quiero Taco Bell, así que me voy de aquí.

I'm Just Throwing This Out There

I hate my mother.

That is all.

I'm Branching Out!

Ok, I'm really excited, and I have to share! :D

I've been tossing around the idea of doing freelance SEO for awhile, but I couldn't decide if I wanted to do it or not. I mentioned something about it on my Facebook, and I got a pretty good reception, so I'm going forward with it. Going to have a couple of sites designed to do this, blah, blah, blah.

Ok, the really exciting part, though, is this. A girl I work with (well, used to work with now because she left the company, but we're still friends) who does design--she's the one who did the site design I was so excited about last month--had a proposition for me. She's going to refer her design clients to me for SEO for a small commission, and I'm going to refer my SEO clients to her for design for the same.

OMG, y'all. This girl does AMAZING design and has a shit ton of customers. I'm going to be OVERRUN with stuff to do. I'm going to have her do 2 websites for me, one for one part of my SEO business and one for the other. Then, I'm going to barrel ahead with it.

My Daddy has also lined up a bunch of SEO/web content jobs for me, too, so this couldn't come at a better time.

ZOMG, I get to actually use my degree, LOLOLOLOL.

Between this and the step I'm about to take into doing another business venture, I'm going to be extremely busy, but I hope I'll be happier professionally.

There are other things--serious things--I want to talk about, too, but I'm honestly too thrilled at the moment to do that. So I'ma just bask in my warm glow of happy for right now.

Résumé

One of my favorites, by one of my favorite writers.


Résumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Dorothy Parker


Bed now. I meant to go 2 hours ago.

Meanderings

Do you ever wish you could just say what you really feel? I wish that all the time. Even here, I don't really feel comfortable talking about things, even though that's the whole point of having this blog. I often want to go back and take things down that I've written, but I try to make myself leave them up. I'm censorious of myself, and I guess I expect other people to be, too.


I'm dreading going home tomorrow. I don't like being there. I like being in my house, in my bed, with my air conditioner on and able to stay up until I get sleepy and sleep until I'm rested. Plus, with all the family drama? Ugh.

My mama *did* order my prescriptions for me today, though. She said she called them in when she called hers in. So I won't have to actually go pick it up, at least, which is one less thing to worry about. Supposedly, I'm getting Freon and new brake pads for the truck, and hopefully, someone will be able to tell me why the damn thing goes dead if it idles too long. I'm hoping the idle just needs to be turned up. The other possibilities aren't so good.


The past couple of days, I've really been fighting the urge to go do something stupid sexually. I *know* it won't make me feel better. It'll just make me feel worse.

In my defense, it's been over 2 years since I did anything like that. I made a vow to myself after I fucked all that shit up that I wouldn't do it again because of the toll that it takes on me and sometimes on others. I've done pretty well so far, but it gets hard resisting the old urges sometimes.


*Sigh* His birthday is this weekend. I feel bad that I haven't done anything, no gift or whatever. But I know as precarious as the situation is, it wouldn't be advisable. Hell, I haven't even TALKED to him in nearly a month. I hope that it goes well for him, but I wish I could do something--anything, really. No, actually, what I really wish is that I could walk up to him with the solution to this mess in my hand and go, "Here. Happy Birthday. It's all fixed now. You're welcome."


I've gotten all my work done through the weekend now, so I don't have to worry about that, thank God. I need to get up and pack, but I don't think it's going to happen. I also need to clean the truck out, but I don't see *that* happening, either.

My days seem to go by in a blur. I feel like all I ever do is work, so I guess that's why. One just blends seamlessly into the next, and then I wake up and realize I've lost several days, pounding the keys.

I REALLY need to get out more.

Frustration

I'm feeling *really* frustrated right now.

Work SUCKS. There's really no other way to put it. And those problems I mentioned last week? Still there.

I've also got some suspicions that I'm being cheated out of traffic. No, this is not paranoia. This is based on evidence.

I'm tired of banging my head against the wall somewhere that I'm not appreciated. I get told things to appease me and shut me up, but my actual problems? Not taken care of. And probably never will be.

*Sigh* I'm going to have to do something different for the sake of my sanity soon.


I'm also nervous about the email I sent. I had to take a sleeping pill to be able to sleep last night, and I'm sure tonight will be more of the same. On the bright side, the knot in my stomach has kept me from eating much for weeks, so I should still be dropping weight. *Eyeroll*

*Headdesk*

I swear to Christ, if I had $100/mo., I'd get a fucking dedicated server. This Dreamhost shared server BULLSHIT is going to drive me mad.

Fuck you, Dreamhost. Fuck you and everything you stand for. Fuck you for taking my money and making my simple fucking Wordpress sites, none of which have more than 100 hits a day apiece, show 404 or 500 errors EVERY GODDAMN TIME SOMEBODY TRIES TO LOAD A MOTHERFUCKING PAGE.

The 404 pages are the ones most viewed on my sites. Know why? BECAUSE DREAMHOST FUCKING SUCKS and kills the fucking processes.

Every site I've tried to upgrade Wordpress on, I've gotten "briefly down for scheduled maintenance." More 404 errors. Crashes. The sites disappear until they decide to restore them.

It's not worth it. It's really not. In ALL, my sites--two of which aren't even on my own hosting--might get 300 uniques a day. No videos, no streaming, just goddamn Wordpress blogs, and Dreamhost kills processes when you try to go to a page because "it's a strain on their servers."

I...think...I...might...shank...somebody.

*Tears out hair*

*Screams*

*Cries*

FML.

Apologizing

Saw this somewhere and thought I'd share. :)

Apologizing does not always mean that you are wrong and the other person is right. It just means that your relationship is more important than your ego.

This is one of those things we'd all do well to remember.

Last Post, I Swear

Ok, this is hilarious. It's a "practical" look at the Jungian personality types.

Clicky

Want an example? I'm an INFP. Here's what they say about me.

INFP: The Idealist

The INFP is a dreamy, imaginitive, idealist, capable of finding the good in anything or anyone, even something as foul as Newark, New Jersey. INFPs are sometimes dangerous to the well-being of society as a whole, as they are prone to adopting subversive and destructive ideologies like "The world should be fair," "People should treat one another well," and "You know, 'Friends' is a really, really stupid television show."

These irrational thought patterns may sometimes cause INFPs to run off and join the circus, the Resistance, or the Rebellion, where they tend to do well in any position requiring excellent hand-eye coordination or mastery of the Force.

COMPATIBILITY: INFPs and ISTJs generally exhibit a natural predator/prey relationship, which, though it might appear harsh and cruel from the outside, is all part of the natural cycle of life. In fact, were it not for the predation of the ISTJ, the population of INFPs would soon grow to unsustainable levels, overwhelming the ability of their ecological niche to support them.

Famous idealists include that girl in your sixth-grade homeroom who got the teacher fired for saying that girls aren't good at math; that guy in the cubicle next to yours who got the manager fired for saying that women don't make good employees; and Anais Nin.

The others are even funnier than mine. Read!

It's Done

It is done. No more hiding in the safety of the shadows of cowardice.

I'm terrified. Not of her. Of fucking up what's most likely going to be my last shot at happiness.

Thoughts, prayers, etc. would be greatly appreciated.

Now the bunny is headed to bed. The emotional toll this whole mess has taken has worn me the fuck out. I'm too old for this kind of drama.

Not that I imagine I'll be sleeping much, with the fretting and the feeling sick to my stomach. But I feel like I should at least attempt to go through the motions.

An Evaluation

I've been doing a lot of self-reflecting lately on the places I screwed up in the past with this relationship I'm attempting to salvage. On the off chance that this email accomplishes what I want it to accomplish, and she agrees to talk with me, these are things that are going to need to be addressed. So, here I am, working the problems in my head out on paper.

Why wasn't I a math genius again? *Eyeroll*

Anyway. This is what I've been able to come up with.


I was wrong to protect him from the consequences of his actions. He's no better than anyone else in the world to have to face the music, and, after a while, it turned into me enabling his behavior. That was my fuck-up.

Not to mention the fact that even though I kept his secrets and covered for him, he never did the same for me. (In fact, there were a number of things--words, not actions--that I asked him to keep between us, and he didn't.) I'm a little tired of him putting my head on the chopping block to save his own ass.

It also damaged trust all the way around. I talk about him being a coward, but I guess in this instance, I'm not a whole lot better. *Sigh*


Another thing that I can think of that I did wrong was pushing for too much, too soon. I shouldn't have pressed it so hard. Part of that was *my* insecurity, my fear of the other shoe dropping. I don't like feeling like I'm always on edge, always walking on eggshells, always on the verge of being put out on my ass. So I pushed for reassurances that it wouldn't happen. The other part of that is that I hate having my freedom curtailed because OTHER people can't get their shit together. So I just said, "Fuck you," to the "rules" (because I despise "rules) instead of trying to explain where I was coming from.


The last thing is that I didn't have the proper boundaries. I set up an expectation that I would always let other people dictate to me my own behavior. I let them think they could make decisions FOR me rather than WITH me, and when I rebelled against it, everyone was surprised that, because I let it happen in the past, I'd be so pissed off about it now.

The boundaries thing wasn't just a problem there. It's an ongoing problem in my life, something I've never been able to do properly. I give and give and give and GIVE, and then people start to take advantage of me. Then, I get angry about it and have a meltdown. But while it's mostly other people's faults for being RAGING FUCKING ASSHOLES, it's also partly mine because I train that behavior. I reinforce it by giving in to unreasonable demands to keep the peace, and then I refuse to do it anymore, and then I give in again, and so on and so forth, ad nauseam.

And any psych major who graduated from my heavily-behavioral department should know that behavior that's reinforced using intermittent reinforcement is the hardest to extinguish. It's damn near impossible. The bird will peck itself to death, on the off chance that hitting the button will get him a bite of food THIS TIME.


I have my thoughts on how to fix these things if I'm given the chance, but I won't waste my time delineating them here. No point in it if I'm not given a shot, is there? *Sad smile*

When Your Hands Are Tied

Ok, first of all, I've discovered the most adorable game on Facebook called Ravenwood Fair, and it's kept me from being very productive the past couple of days, LOL. I guess it's just as well because work is SLOW AS FUCK.

The good news from today is that my newly-redesigned website hit page one of Google for one variation of its searched-10,000-times-a-month keyword. Still on page two for the other variation of it, but I'm working on it.

SEO = my addiction


Ok, my former boss (who's now the marketing manager at the company she sold out to--I think we've discussed that before) spent, like, an hour IM-ing me today. She has a shit ton of problems, some of which are related to her cocaine addiction, some of which are deeper-rooted than that. And I feel *really* bad for her. I mean, she threw away a multi-million dollar business, got her house foreclosed on, and had lots of other bad shit happen because of the white powder.

Yes, theoretically, it's all her fault. She definitely should've known better. But I can't stand to see people hurting. Especially not over ONE weak moment in their lives. Even over several weak moments. I know as well as anybody how those weak moments will build up and build up and build up until the whole mess has snowballed out of your control.

Supposedly, she's clean now. I don't know if I buy it or not, but I'm not going to doubt her word unless I have a reason to. I *do* know she spent some time in rehab.

She was talking tonight about how overwhelming her life is, how it makes her want to go back and get fucked up all over again. I kept talking to her, in hopes of keeping her ass at home, until she finally called up her sober partner. Or so she said. I sincerely hope she did.

I feel like I fail people when I can't help them. I want to help her so badly, but there's only so much I can do, what with her being there and me being here. Also, I'm not an addiction counselor, though I know better than most what feeling lost and hopeless will lead to.

I remember standing on that edge. I remember it well. I fully believe from the bottom of my heart that Lamictal--Wellbutrin, too, probably--saved my life. I'd be dead now if I hadn't gotten help. Not through an addiction or anything. But I'd have either offed myself, put myself in a position so that it basically ending up being suicide-by-proxy, or would've just collapsed from sheer exhaustion. The human body can only run on that kind of terrified, frantic "high" ("high" is in quotes because there was nothing good about it, as the word might otherwise imply) for so long before it shuts down. Or the heart explodes. Either one.

I never feel like I can do enough for people. I also feel like I attract some truly fucked up people to me. I've been seriously thinking about going back to school, not just to finish the M.A., but perhaps for an M.S. in counseling. My friend K. and I have both been talking about it. She's got her M.S. in the behavioral analysis part of psych, so it definitely makes sense for her.

We've both talked about being therapists for kinky people--those into BDSM, poly people, etc. Basically anyone outside the accepted heterosexual, monogamous, vanilla "norm." It's part of the reason neither of US want to do therapy, despite the fact that we've both been diagnosed as bipolar and both of us suspect that we've both got underlying personality disorders as well. There are other people out there like us who NEED help, but don't feel comfortable seeking it in conventional venues.

Yes, I realize there's a kink-friendly professionals list. I also know that the closest one's in Atlanta. Not doing anyone in this section of the country a whole lot of good. They're also not a lot of help for poor people who have to pay out of pocket. I'd love to offer a sliding scale for the people who needed it. Also, a lot of the ones who do it now in the general vicinity concentrate on things like depression and "adjustment issues," whatever the fuck that means. There aren't many who specifically work with the kinky outcasts of the mental health world--your bipolars and your personality disorders and your schizophrenics.

It's sad.

The other option that I'm looking into exploring is brushing up on my pitiful Spanish and trying to see about teaching adult ESL (English as a second language) classes. I don't think they really have them in this neck of the woods, but I don't plan on living here forever, either. They're all school-based programs for kids. No. Just...no. I hate kids. I'd hate them even more if I had teach them. Plus, I want to help people who WANT to be helped, and if adults showed up to an English class on their own accord, they obviously want to learn, unlike bratty, obnoxious children who are only there because they "have" to go.


Wow, that ended up going on a tangent I didn't mean for it to go on, LOL. There's more I want to say on a completely different subject, but I think I'm going to put it in another post.

Not My Day

So my phone started crapping out today. I figured I needed to do something about this. So I dug out a phone my not-brother gave me awhile back and decided I'd go buy a charger for it. (The lack of charger was the reason I wasn't using it in the first place.) I headed out toward Walmart, and I made the mistake of choosing the one farther away from the house because the sales tax is cheaper.

To make a long story short, a dickhead of a cop gave me a ticket.

Now, normally, I'd just pay the damn thing and go on. I drive like a bat out of hell; about once every 4-5 years, I get a ticket. It comes with the territory, right? Whatever, I deserve it.

However...this douchebag made two mistakes.

1.) He was incredibly rude to me, despite my being very polite to him. Most cops, once they see you're not begrudging them doing their jobs, will let their guard down and be courteous. Not this fuck. He made the mistake of trying to intimidate me.

See, here's the thing about intimidation. I can be intimidated. I don't have ice water in my veins. BUT...if you *try* to intimidate me, it's not going to work. My automatic "fuck you" kicks in, and it's just not going to happen.

2.) He wrote the wrong speed limit on the ticket. *Evil grin*

Thus, ladies and gentlemen, I will see this motherfucker in court, which he most likely won't show up to, anyway, as they hardly ever do. I have to pay court costs either way, so why let him get away with being a dick AND fucking up?

Ok, this kinda thing might be why people say I'm a bitch....