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Monday, October 17, 2011
Music has been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid I had a KISS poster on my wall. I listened to the Rolling Stones, Jethro Tull, Queen, Charlie Daniels, Hank Williams, Gordon Lightfoot, Janis Joplin & David Bowie among others. My Mom always encouraged my love of music & especially my fascination with Bowie.Yeah, my mom rocked & still does.
Since I broke off the relationship/engagement with the Bastard I have found myself reverting to music much more again. I have a tendency to avoid dealing with my problems because, you know, I hate talking to people. Eventually the voices will work it all out. I just sit back & listen to the music. It works for me.
Lately I have been terribly wound up. I really want to punch random people for no apparent reason. Jeb has suggested a physical hobby such as kick boxing. He's right, but I'm cheap & hate people. Then there is that whole I get embarrassed at the drop of a hat thing. No, don't ask. At any rate, I have come to find that two voices keep me rather calm. I have determined that it is, in fact, the vocals & not the music as they are two completely different types of music.
One I knew had this effect on me. I found out quite by accident a few years ago on a flight to New Orleans. I'm not really fond of flying in the first place & get a bit ancy when I do have to fly. Right after take off I hit the music device & put this album on repeat. Within 30 minutes I was right as rain & fell asleep at some point.
Lately I have been using this to my advantage. I can turn either of these artists on & if I concentrate on just the vocal portions I calm down within 10 minutes. So, at work, I pop it on the 'ol portable music device & walk around the building a couple of times. I have to be careful & not have either on when I go to sleep however as both induce some fucked up dreams of monumental proportions. Apparently they stimulate the "creative" portion of the grey matter as well.
What I don't get is why these two vocalists in particular? Why it doesn't work with all vocals? I would think that the concentrating on the one thing is what calms me down. I am thinking about that & nothing else, but that isn't the case. I've tried it with other music. It seems to be just these two so far. It is quite perplexing. Even better, when I talk to these two individuals in person, their speaking voices aren't particularly soothing to me. Yes, I know them both. Maybe that has something to do with it.
Oh! I know! Maybe I really am some genetic freak. A mental mutant if you will. I know I am different than the general population.
In 30 days I get to get away from the hell that is Vegas for five full days. I'm so happy I could shit myself. Really.
Jeb and I have been discussing what I would like to do while I am there. Now, let me give you a bit of a back story on good 'ol Jeb. Last time I was in town he had all these grand plans. We were going to go here and there because I had to have fun for my first time in that state. Yeah, none of that happened. We went out drinking two nights and that was that. He had something come up and couldn't spend as much time with me as he wanted. Whatever.
The next week I get a text. Something to the effect of, "I would have totally slept with you, but..." What. The. Fuck. He went on a camping trip the week before I arrived. Apparently he decided to get back with an ex during that camping trip. Mind you he was texting me THE ENTIRE weekend. But he couldn't "do anything" with me because it wouldn't have been fair to her. So, let me get this straight, you thought about nailing me, but you had a sudden attack of morals & couldn't. I applaud your honesty Jeb, but man the fuck up. There was absolutely no reason he couldn't have told me while I was sitting there with him. That is what pissed me off.
I adore Jeb & would do absolutely anything for him. We are essentially the same person. Our attitudes are identical. Our sense of humor is the same. We differ on some stuff, but it is really scary. But even with that I know what to expect from him. I'm fine with that as long as I know where I stand. I always have to know where I stand.
So tentative plans have been made and I am counting on none of them. He doesn't have a good track record. He left me hanging the last time I was out there and he didn't make it out here for my birthday. I'm OK with all that, but it doesn't give me much hope for hanging out with him all that much when I am there. That being said, I have an agenda of crap I want to go do while I am there. The best part? I can go do it all on my own with the help of public transportation.
Translation: I'm going on vacation for me. If Jeb wants to hang out with me, that's fine, but I am not counting on it or expecting it. I need the time away from here to think for myself. I need the time away from people telling me what is best for my life. At the same time, I'm terrified of being by myself. There's a little Zombie nugget for you. Maybe I'll go into ti more later.
You are not entitled. You are not special. You are not unique with your douchewear. You, my dear, are an asshole. Simple as that.
I've dealt with people like you for a really long time. As such, my asshole radar is probably in better working order than my gaydar. Needless to say, I can identify you before you ever make it into my personal space. You come around with a chip on your shoulder and I have the match ready.
Do you really think that demanding anything from me is going to get you somewhere? I really don't give a fuck who you say you know. I certainly don't give a fuck about who you are going to call to "make my life miserable." Why? Because I know you are talking out your ass. That's why. If you have to throw that shit around then I know you are lying. Plain and simple.
Oh, by the way, you do not intimidate me because you are male. You might have a cock, but I guarantee you are a bigger pussy than I will ever be. In fact, you really do look like the type of guy that would kick another guy in the dick during a fight. Even I wouldn't do that unless my life was in danger and I am a chick. Should you care to test me on this I will be more than happy to demonstrate.
So please, when you are ready to take a nap on my office floor, do come visit again.
Compliments: I'm not comfortable with them at all. They make me suspect people and I certainly can't take them at face value. I'm attempting to be better with this, but it isn't easy. At all.
This probably seems like an odd concept and that's OK. I think of it as one of my many self preservation tactics. Compliments at some point lead to feelings. Feelings lead to me getting squashed. Therefore, if I cut it off at the source I don't have anything to worry about right? Yeah, I know, fucked up way to think.
So this weekend I was hanging out with an old friend. I'm talking we've known each other since we were like 12. The last time she saw me was this time last year. I'm quite a bit smaller this go round. She commented on it repeatedly. I was uncomfortable. She told me several times that I was beautiful. I was uncomfortable. I really need to get over that. I know she isn't trying to get anything out of me & the compliments still made me way uncomfortable.
Just today two people have told me how "skinny" I was. I don't see it. At all. I know I should just take the compliment for what it is, but I can't. Ever. I am sure quite a bit of it has to do with the self-confidence I don't have. Sure, people think I do, but that's the wall showing. I can make people think just about anything. Luckily in today's society no one bothers to take the time to get to know anyone else so I don't have to worry about anyone finding out my secret.
When I was on vacation I got a lot of compliments. Some were in the traditional sense, some were a bit more veiled & came from Jeb. I still wasn't comfortable with those either. One person that gave me several compliments and other random bits of wisdom, well, nevermind. Let's just say I really wanted to (and still want to) believe everything, but my rational brain won't let me. Stupid fucking brain.
This is something I really should work on getting over. I find it amusing and yet sad that I can come here, to a blog that no one reads save fore me (thank goodness), and put the metaphorical pen to paper, yet I can't talk to another living being about this shit. If I do I will look like a fool. Well, that's what my irrational brain tells me. My rational brain tells me it would do me good to find someone (a friend, not a doctor thankyouverymuch) to confide in. Those two are constantly fighting. The rational won a battle not long ago and I actually expressed emotion to someone. Mistake. Now the irrational brain is kicking the living shit out of the rational one.
My writing sucks. I'm all over the place. I'm like a giant emo douchebag right now and it is pissing me off. A lot. I know what I want, I don't know how to get it and I am sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I am also being a total chick about some other things and that pisses me off as well.
Jeb has suggested that I see a shrink. Jeb can lick my ass. I'm glad it worked for him, but I refuse to see a psychologist or psychiatrist. I just can't do it. To me, if I do that I admit defeat. If I admit defeat I might as well go back to that shitty relationship I was in for 15 years. No offense to anyone that one of those doctors has helped. It works for some people, it just isn't for me.
Right now I think I will just have to switch back into angry, hard, sarcastic Zombie mode. Anti-social, hermit Zombie. I let my wall down and regret it. I let emotions show and I regret it. From here on out it is me against the world in the most literal sense.
One last thing before I quit I never wanted any more than I could fit into my head I still remember every single word you said And all the shit that somehow came along with it Still there's one thing that comforts me Since I was always caged and now I'm free
Smoking. I loved it. Really. I can almost guarantee that individuals are still alive because of my nicotine dependence. Well, former dependence. I quit smoking one month and one week ago today. I miss it every fucking day. Much like food, cigarettes were a constant. They never changed. They never judged. They never talked back or called me names. They were just there.
I'm still not quite sure why I quit other than it was just time. I had been smoking off and on since I was 15 years old. I'm almost 40. There was a former friend nagging me about it as well, but she played less of a part in it than she would like to give herself credit for. But she's a cunt that way. Don't worry, I'm not putting anything here that I haven't said to her face.
Anyway. I just stopped. There was no replacement therapy. There was no medication. I. Just. Quit. I woke up one morning and decided that was it. No more. There was a conversation the month before with a friend about quitting. They gave me some advice that worked for them. I followed that advice and it worked for me as well. So thanks for that. It means more to me than I could ever explain here.
One thing about quitting smoking though.... the smell of smoke simultaneously makes me wrinkle my nose all ewww like and want a smoke. It is a very odd dynamic. When I first walk into a club or casino it really sucks until I can adjust. However, I vow to never be one of those self-righteous former smokers. If you smoke that's your fucking business. If I am in public then it is my responsibility to stay away from you if that's what I want. I would never expect a smoker to move for me or anything like that. Fuck that noise.
So since January I have given up a lot of things that I love & ended a couple of toxic relationships. I gave up crap food. I have maybe two cups of coffee a week now. I quit smoking. I ended an emotionally abusive relationship that lasted over a decade. I have shed a terribly toxic "friendship." Fuck, pretty soon I might be "normal." Yeah right. No chance of that ever happening.
I can't stop those tongues a flappin' So I'll just keep my toes a tappin' I put the bullshit in the lost & found And never let the bastards drag me down**
People always chuckle when I tell them I hate people. I really, really don't care for people. From my experience the vast majority are manipulative & a lot more are, well, cocksuckers.
This town is full of people that would push their grandmothers in front of a bus for a quarter. It is sad really, but this isn't really a place where a person can seem to form a lasting relationship of any kind.
There was a time back in Dallas when I worked for one of the most popular rock bands in town. Those guys were like my big brothers. They even meddled in my affairs when guys showed interest. Being that they were musicians, all the little girls that were around wanted to get in their pants. They tried to use me to make that happen. Suddenly I was one of the most popular people on the entire scene. Not because of my shining personality, but because they wanted me to get them where they wanted to be. That was a tough lesson to learn, but it was an important lesson.
I've seen this happening again here. I've started helping a band by sitting with their shit at shows. Basically selling T-shirts. Who gives a fuck? Sure, I'm friendly with the guys, but I can't get anyone anywhere with them. Chicks don't see that though. They just see band guys talking to me after the show. Not my problem. But people latch on to that. People piss me off.
I happen to get along better when men than I do women. Always have. I can't stand the back biting, the rumors, the emotional bullshit most seem to engage in. That's why the band types talk to me. They know I don't give a fuck about what they do. As far as I am concerned they are just people doing a job. Nothing more. Nothing less. I seriously question whether or not the road whores would give a shit about these guys if they weren't on stage.
At any rate I am dealing with this now. I have made some really good friends, but it is the cunts that stand out. Some nights I just want to strangle some bitches. So far I have been able to take the high road. Not a single, solitary cross word has been utter about these individuals.
You never know when it's gonna get ya Your big mouth came back & bit ya Next time you better hold your tongue 'Cause one day your time will come**
I can't say the same for them. Apparently I have quite the reputation these days. It is kind of awesome hearing what I am doing.
If I only had as much fun as people are insinuating that I am. Hell, I sure wouldn't be as stressed out as I am.
** lyrics from All Talk No Action by Todd Kerns off the Go Time! album
Someone asked me why I didn't write anymore. Well, I never really considered blog entries writing in the formal sense. To me, they are just the poorly strung together phrases of a bitter chick that is possibly a tad mental. It never occurred to me that people might actually like reading this shit. I still think the people that do like reading this are in the minority. At the same time I miss writing all the time.
Writing and other creative endeavors have always kept me busy. If I am busy I have less time to think about what my life has or hasn't become. I don't have time to think about what is missing. I don't have time to obsess, which is what I do. Not to mention the fact that I can't sit still to save my ass unless I am doing something with my hands. That's how I ended up playing WoW for a while. It was literally something to do with my hands and then I ended up liking it. Now I am firmly into the crafting camp.
I am well aware that I am ADHD, but I refuse to take medication for it. I'm not big on taking any medication really. Instead, I really try to keep myself busy. I am constantly doing something. Let's put it this way, I can't sit and watch a movie in the theater without fidgeting like whoa. Jeb suggested taking knitting with me as something to keep my hands busy. It really is a fine suggestion other than the fact that I can't knit. I've tried, but I have yet to be successful. Even when I watch movies at the cave I have to be doing something else. Usually I am sewing, doing a cross stitch or some multimedia something or other. I just can't fucking sit still.
My brain never shuts the fuck up either. It is constantly going. You can guarantee that any important decision I have made in the last 25 years has been over thought. I have literally considered every possible scenario. The good and the bad. I can't just be spontaneous with some things. Fuck, I can't be spontaneous with most things. It sucks, but it's true. I lead a fairly boring life except for those few moments every now and then when I act like a normal human being and say "fuck it." I really wish I had more of those moments in my life.
I don't even leave much to chance on vacation. I have several things planned already and I still have a month or so to go. I get there on Tuesday morning. Wednesday I have an excursion planned (thank you bus system!). Thursday I have another excursion planned (thanks again public transportation) as well as a hockey game. Tuesday & Friday are my free days although I am sure Jeb will have something planned for Friday night. Saturday I shall be visiting the happiest place on earth and Sunday I head home in the evening. In between all those times I also have every intention of sitting on the beach doing nothing. See, I just can't leave shit to chance.
I plan on looking at a lot of this on vacation
That being said, I asked a friend for crafting suggestions, but I ended up deciding on several projects before I ever got an answer. So now on deck are a Halloween costume, a shrine and about ten Christmas presents. I suspect that by Thanksgiving I will be scrounging for more stuff to do. Feel free to hurl suggestions my way.
Zip-lining. That shit isn't all it is cracked up to be. Might be for some people, but when you are scared of roller coasters, zip-lining isn't for you. No matter how much you talk it up to yourself. No.
So, as part of this whole new "going to try things outside my comfort zone" thing I have going on I decided that the day after my birthday I would go zip-lining down on Fremont. I had spent a week or so working up to it. I told myself that I could do it. It was, after all, only going to last a few seconds, no one had died there that I knew of, I had never witnessed anyone fall off, although, I did witness several get stuck, but that's what they get for weighing 100 pounds. Eat a fucking Twinkie bitch.
Anyway, I go in, I pay for my ride. I wait in line. I get all harnessed up. See:
I even made it onto the platform. Just as they were hooking me to the line I lost my shit. Yep, done. I went all kinds of pussy & asked to be unhooked. I made the walk of shame back down & didn't give a rat's ass. Sometimes when you think you are ready for something you realize you aren't when you are about to simultaneously piss yourself & puke.
In the end I was much harder on myself than anyone else was. I figured Jeb was going to harass me relentlessly, but he didn't. He merely suggested that I start smaller, like with kiddie rides. Yeah, he's still a bastard. So a plan was formulated. I have a list of rides that I will attempt at Disneyland. I have been assured that he will not allow me to ride anything that might cause me to shit myself. Forgive me if I am mildly suspect.
Jeb made mention of being scared of heights. I'm not necessarily scared of heights. I do fine on rooftops & observation decks not to mention in airplanes. It is the whole not being enclosed thing that gets me. Being held to a what is essentially a metal rope by some straps & carabiners is not my idea of security. I like being secure. I am secure in my hard ass bitchiness. I am not secure in a harness being dangled & then flung down Fremont Street. Really.
So maybe that is what it all comes down to. Security. It isn't really being scared necessarily, but feeling secure. Of course going outside my comfort zone doesn't make me feel very secure, but it is something I feel like I have to do. Maybe I just need to take baby steps. Although, I'm fairly certain that if I told you some of the things that were outside my comfort zone you would point & laugh. A lot.