Knowing What You're Worth...

Can sometimes make it hard to be with someone, to have a relationship with someone, on a romantic level. See, I know what I'm worth. I know that when it comes down to it, I'm an amazing person to be with.

I'm kind, caring, generous... I'm always willing to be flexible, to compromise, to work at things until my partner is happy. I often put their needs, wants, and desires ahead of mine, just because I want to please them. I'm affectionate, and sensual, and sexual. I'm intelligent, and funny, and a good kisser. I like to go out, or stay in, to be with groups of friends, or have it be just the two of us. I'm laid back. I go with the flow. I know how to have a good time. I know when to be serious, and when to crack jokes. I have a gigantic heart. And I don't ask for a lot in return.

I don't want gifts, especially not lavish ones. I don't need fancy dinners out, or expensive weekend getaways. I don't want a slave, or someone following me around like a lovesick puppy. I don't expect to come first on their list of priorities. I don't need to see them every waking moment. I don't want them abandoning their friends to spend all their free time with me. I don't expect their life to grind to a halt because of me.

All I want is someone to spend time with me, to make a little bit of room in their life for me.

I'm not hard to please. I'm really not. Just a little bit of attention and affection every couple days is enough to keep me content. That's it. That's all I really need.

Well... That and a good sound fucking every so often *wink wink*

Is that all really so much to ask?

One Year Anniversary

Today, is the one year anniversary for my blog. Well... of its existance anyway... I didn't post for a good 5 months, so... well... yeah anyway. One year. Wow. Who knew.

In celebration of my one year anniversary, I'm going to share this funny story of two people who are way too easily amused, and have a tendency to twist things towards the sexual side of life.

The guy I'm seeing and I were driving back to my place the other night, mispronouncing the exit signs on purpose, just for shits and giggles, when we passed a sign saying "oakland zoo and airport next exit." Conversation ensued about how odd it would be to have a zoo in an airport... And then conversation about bringing the animals on the plane. My response?

"Putting a petting zoo on an airplane would bring a whole new meaning to joining the mile high club"

*big grin*

I'm soooo bad. LOL

Medical Update

Alright, for those of you who have been pestering me to find out what in the hell is wrong with me:

Last week the headaches got worse, and started becoming accompanied by mild bloody noses when I woke up. Let me say that there is no nastier way to wake up than waking up to find your nose full of blood clot. Ew. Then I started getting dizzy, and my appetite dropped off so I was really only hungry once a day. Yesterday, when I woke up, the bloody nose hadn't quite abated, and kept on at a trickle until my workday was almost over. I called the doctor.

My appointment was first thing this morning... Not the way I usually like to start my day... But I did wind up getting a laugh while waiting for my exam. In the next room over was an older gentleman, perhaps about 55 or 60, who was in for a follow up of some sort. I know this, because the walls in the office are so thin that I could hear every single word him and the doc said. I wasn't exactly eavesdropping... But there was nothing to do while I waited, so I listened a bit... And nearly fell off the exam table laughing when I heard the doctor say "alright then, assume the position!" and the patient say "that's not funny!" The poor guy was getting a prostate exam, and I was hearing every word! I'll skip the boring details about the man's enlarged prostate... It wasn't the least bit interesting. What was funny however, was when the doctor was walking the man out to the desk, I over heard him say "well, I've had a great start to my morning... Was it as good for you as it was for me?" I nearly died. Especially since the doc came straight in to see me afterwards, and made a show of washing his hands extra well! LOL.

But yeah, back to the stuff you all really want to hear about. I'm fine. I'm not dying, I don't have a brain tumor, my brain isn't leaking out my nose. I have an inner ear infection thats been flying under the radar (no fever, etc.), and the headaches are tension headaches.

So now, I'm on antibiotics, and muscle relaxers, and I should be just fine in a few days.

See? Nothing to worry about. Don't you all feel silly?

My "Cingularly" Wretched Experience With Cingular:

-- The following is a true account. It has not been embellished or enhanced in any way. Only personal information such as account numbers, names, and dollar amounts have been omitted for my privacy. --

On Sunday, I placed an online order with Cingular Wireless for a cell phone, and service. Shortly thereafter I received my order confirmation which stated that everything was copasetic, and I would receive my order in 3-5 business days. 10 minutes after that, I got an email stating that I needed to pay a security deposit of an unspecified amount within 7 days, or my order would be cancelled.

Confused, I called the customer service number:

Me (after navigating voice recognition menu trees in vain): Hi, I received an email stating that I need to pay a security deposit?
Customer Service Rep: Oh, no you don't actually. That email was sent in error.
Me: Really?
CSR: Yes. The actual issue on the account is that there was a problem with the system in recognizing your legal name.
Me: Oh?
CSR: Have you changed your name recently?
Me: Uh... Like 5 years ago...
CSR: Okay, so can you please verify your legal name for me? It didn't register in the system.
Me: (states my name)
CSR: That's your full legal name?
Me: Uh, yeah. Thats what's on my social security card, and my ID, and my credit card...
CSR: Okay thanks. I'll reprocess the order.
Me: So... I don't need to pay a security deposit?
CSR: No, you don't.
Me: So why did I get an email saying I did?
CSR: That was a computer glitch. The system didn't register your current legal name, so it sent out an email to say there was a problem with the account. It sent the wrong email. We've been getting these calls all day.
Me: Oh, Ok. So really, no security deposit?
CSR: Thats right.
... blah blah, end call.

Okay, great. Problem solved. Or so I thought. I check my email this morning to find another email from Cingular, dated monday, that says: Because we haven't heard from you in a few days, your online order has been cancelled. WHAT?? I just talked to them on Sunday!

So I call customer service AGAIN:

CSR: How can I help you today?
Me: I got an email...
CSR: Oh yes, your account is showing that you need to pay a security deposit.
Me: What?
CSR: We need an "X" dollar security deposit per line on your account.
Me: Alright, now I'm a little frustrated here... I placed this order on Sunday. I got the confirmation email. Then I got an email asking for a deposit. When I called to make that deposit, I was was told that I didn't need to make a deposit, that all I needed to do was verify my legal name...
CSR (interrupting): Let me consult with my support resource...
Me (interrupting right back): Wait one minute please, I'm not finished.
CSR: Sorry Ma'am.
Me: Now the reason I'm calling today, is because I got an email from you people saying that because you hadn't heard from me in a few days, my order had been cancelled. And now you're telling me that I got that email because theres a deposit owed on my account that I was assured on Sunday I DIDN'T have to pay?? What exactly is the problem here?
CSR: Let me consult with my support resource...
Me (noticably annoyed): Fine.
-- Hold for a minute or two --
CSR: Okay, so when you verified your legal name, the system re-ran the credit check, which is why you're now showing you need to pay a deposit.
Me: So why didn't I get an email saying that??
CSR: Um, it was a computer glitch.
Me (now rather irate): I know this isn't your fault, and I don't mean to take it out on you...
CSR: Yes Ma'am.
Me: But this is ridiculous. If you people can't even get your computer system to work right, why on earth do I want phone service from you??
CSR: Uhhh...
Me: Look, just cancel my order. I'm not comfortable doing business with your company.
CSR: Yes Ma'am, I'm cancelling it now.
Me: Thank you.
... blah blah... end call.

Let me just say:

A tech company that cannot even get their automated email system to work correctly does not deserve my business.

A tech company that cannot properly interface with the social security agency system does not deserve my business.

A company of any sort that does not appologize for its errors, or try to make some sort of amends for my resulting inconveniences does not deserve my business.

I personally provide a very high level of customer service to the people that I deal with, and I am never anything but professional. I always appologize immediately for any problems my "clients" encounter, whether or not those problems are my fault (they very rarely are). And any company that cannot offer ME that level of service will not get my business. Even if that means I have to pay higher rates elsewhere. Even if that means I have to get something different from what I originally wanted. Even if that means I have to do without a product or service entirely.

Needless to say, I won't be doing business with Cingular again... Bleh.

My Day Is Being Totally Wasted

I spent most of my morning in a class learning how to use the new AP/AR system (web-based, PeopleSoft 8.8), only, I didn't need to take the stupid class because web-based applications (and indeed, most software) is intuitive for me to operate. Sit me down in front of a new program, give me an hour or so to play with it, and I'm good to go. Classes are generally pretty pointless for me unless they're going into the really advanced stuff, and even then, I do better with a manual than I do with a lecture or even a hands on tutorial.

I'm not entirely sure why I learn better from books, but I think it has something to do with my almost photographic memory. I just retain more of what I read, and I understand it better. I'm not sure why. That's just the way I am.

I also learn better if I have to puzzle something out on my own, as in, not having someone give me step by step instructions, but actually having to figure the steps out myself. Just like having to get lost a couple of times to really learn your way around a town.

Anyway, I have another class this afternoon which is an even bigger waste of time because its training for not only a web-based system, but a web-based system I already know how to use. Pointless I tell you, pointless. And its a damned THREE HOUR class. Oh dear god, please someone kill me now. It only took me 15 minutes to figure out the thing the first time round. Now I get to spend THREE HOURS "re-learning" the piece of shit application. Gawd.

Name Fun

Discover the hidden meaning in your name

Okay, this is fun.

Tess:
Reaper : Greek

You are a humanitarian and idealist concerned with the welfare of others and doing what you can to make the world a better place. A visionary with strong intuition and wisdom you seek knowledge and have high aspirations. Although at times preferring solitude your generous, compassionate and understanding nature attracts many friends from all walks of life.

My real name:
Princess : Hebrew

Peaceful, poised and understanding you do not let anyone or anything disturb your innate calm. You are tolerant of others no matter how their behaviours or beliefs differ from your own. Not attached to material or worldly affairs you are free to express your true self. Displaying great wisdom and serenity people are naturally drawn to you for guidance and counsel. Your courage and presence of mind see you through any adversity.

Both are fairly accurate... except for the "you do not let anyone or anything disturb your innate calm" part. I may seem innately calm on the outside... But that is very far from the truth.

The Art of Breaking -- Part 2

The second half of the story... A story in and of itself, and several stories in one

---------------------------------------------

I didn't fully regain consciousness until I woke up in the hospital the next evening. How I'd gotten there was somewhat of a blur, and there were sizable chunks of time missing from my memory. My ex had gotten my message, and taken me to the emergency room of the only hospital in the area with a psych ward. Not the county asylum, thankfully, but a private hospital. I was dazed, and scared, and still very much at the bottom of a pit, but mostly, I was numb. Weirdly enough, I discovered that one of my ex's distant relatives had a room two doors down from mine. I didn't talk much the first two days, and when I did, my voice sounded small in my own ears. Small, and cold, and distant, as if I wasn't even in the same room as myself. The Dr's and nurses tried to get me to hold conversations, but they were lucky if they even got a full sentence out of me. I didn't want to get dressed. I didn't want to shower. I didn't want anything except my own couch, my own TV, my own bed, and my teddy bear. I felt tiny, like I'd fallen in on myself, like a child -- fragile and small -- and I carried that bear everywhere. There was group therapy, arts & crafts, food... It was a little like preschool, except with smoke breaks and strong narcotics.

The Dr. put me on Topamax (a mood stabilizer), Welbutrin, and Trazadone at first. When I wasn't "getting better" fast enough, he upped my dosages. Then I started getting panic attacks, so he put me on Ativan and upped the Welbutrin again. The diagnosis? Bipolar II, depressed episode. That was mis-diagnosis number five. And the amount of antidepressants he had me on knocked me into a manic state, so he upped my ativan to bring me down. That all, was mis-medication number two. He should have reduced the Welbutrin or taken me off of it entirely.

My stay in the hospital ended up being a horrific experience. There was a woman there, a little older than my mother, who also had bipolar disorder. She had gone off her meds, and gone into a manic state so severe that she had walked through Oakland, barefoot, for weeks without stopping to eat or sleep. She lost toes. She lost all hold on reality, and spent most of the night screaming at the top of her lungs. She couldn't dress herself, couldn't feed herself, couldn't clean herself, couldn't take herself to the bathroom. She didn't recognize her family when they came to visit. When I looked at her, I saw what I could become, and it terrified me. It terrified me to the point that I swore then and there that I would never go off medication. NEVER. No matter what.

Another thing that happened while I was there was that one of the patients (J) tried to kill one of the counselors. Six or seven of us were in a group session, and J suddenly gets up and starts walking towards the counselor with her arms outstretched. At first we thought that she wanted to give the woman a hug, but instead of opening her arms and leaning in, J wrapped her hands around the counselor's throat and started to squeeze. Three of us had to pull J off the woman while others went to get the nurses.

That was the first time I'd ever seen someone try to murder another person. The first time I'd ever had to STOP someone from trying to murder another person.

The look in J's eyes as we dragged her off the counselor will always stay with me. The cold burning fury, the intense calm, the emptiness behind that calm calculating blue flame of rage -- like J was being operated by remote control... In a way she was I suppose. J was a paranoid schitzophrenic with psychotic episodes.

And as we were holding her, waiting for the nurses, she kept chanting "You have to die. They said so. Kill you... Kill you all... They said... You have to die," over and over in a stone cold voice that sounded almost mechanical. Shortly thereafter, the police showed up and took her to the county asylum in restraints...

A day after the attempted murder, they let me go home. I was supposed to go immediately into an outpatient program at the hospital, so I wasn't assigned a psychiatrist. But there was an insurance snag, and my admission was delayed. During that delay, I started having adverse reactions to my medication.

I couldn't walk straight. Literally. I would end up walking smack into the wall. I couldn't think, couldn't remember things, couldn't follow a conversation. I lost the ability to speak, almost entirely. The words were in my head, but my tongue couldn't form them. I would stutter at best, and slur so badly that I was unintelligible. My mom began to freak out, saying that I sounded drunk. I didn't know what was going on, and I didn't have a doctor I could call to help me. I began to freak out myself, and ended up bursting into tears while on the phone with the HMO, stuttering and slurring and blubbering, begging for some kind of help. My mother called the HMO too, and pointed out in her best NY style attitude (bitch mode, she calls it) that they could easily have a lawsuit on their hands if they didn't authorize treatment for me immediately. Less than an hour after that call, I was admitted into the outpatient program, and the staff psychiatrist took me off the Topamax the next day.

No one there had ever seen someone have the reaction to the drug that I had had, but it was obvious that's what had caused it. Within a few days, the fucked up side effects had pretty much gone away... Though, I do still have the remnants of the speech difficulties. I trip over words, mispronouncing them, or slurring them if I try to talk too fast... As it turns out, tongue paralysis is a side effect that Topamax causes in a full 10% of people taking it, but it usually doesn't show up in the people using it as a mood stabilizer. Topamax is also an anti-convulsant, and the people taking it for that purpose are usually the ones who get the nasty side effects. Mis-medication number three, by the way.

So now I'm on two anti-depressants, 1 anti-anxiety medication, and NO mood stabilizer, in an outpatient program that I can barely get myself out of bed to go to, and I still can't sleep. Mis-medication number four.

If there's one thing you never want to do to someone with bipolar disorder, its hype them up on anti-depressants. So what does the doc do? Up my Welbutrin to the maxium dosage, and switch me from Trazadone to Remeron, which is about ten times stronger. Mis-medication number five. The thing about anti-depressants is that they generally take a few weeks to kick in fully. So after a few weeks I hit a manic high SO high that I literally could not sit still. Then and only then did they realize that they A: mis-diagnosed me in the first place, and B: forgot to put me back on a mood stabilizer.

The diagnosis got revised to bipolar disorder type I (mis-diagnosis number six), and they put me on Lithium, kept the Welbutrin the same, took me off Remeron, kept me on Ativan, and gave me Restoril to make me sleep. This ended up being mis-medication number six, because being on Lithium was almost as bad as the Topamax. My body shook uncontrollably. I couldn't write to save my life. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't read. I didn't get quite so manic anymore, but I still got the depressive lows. I couldn't handle stress of any kind. So what did they do? Put me on Lexapro, another anti-depressant, gave me three more months off work, and shoved me out the door without so much as giving me a refill prescription or a psychiatrist to see. Mis-medication number seven, by the way -- the last thing I needed was more anti-depressants.

What happens after that? Well... My meds ran out of course, and I had to find a psychiatrist on my own, which, due to the side effects from the Lithium, was extremely difficult for me to do. Thankfully I found a good one. He took me off all those different pills (at that point, I was taking 10 pills a day of various different substances), and put me on ONE medication -- Seroquel. He also changed my diagnosis to Bipolar Type I and PTSD (the RIGHT diagnosis, in my opinion).

Seroquel is my miracle drug. I can function pretty normally on it, and it treats my symptoms well enough. The only side effect I get is being very tired most of the morning. I still have mood swings, but they're not nearly as bad, and fall mostly into the "normal" range. My anxiety level is one tenth of what it used to be. And I sleep, and eat normally. I don't hallucinate anymore either, thank god. I can't, however, handle stress very well at all anymore. I just don't have the strength for it, unfortunately. Maybe my meds need a little bit of tweaking. Or maybe I just need to recover more fully. Maybe I rushed back to work too quickly. In any case, here I am, surviving, as always.

Maybe, just maybe, I'm stronger than I think.

The Art of Breaking

This is the first of two posts. I decided to split the story into two pieces, because of length for one, and because, really, it is two separate stories.

----------------------------------------

I suppose this story actually starts when I was a child, or at least, when I was physically a child, since I never really got a chance to be one...

Even as a kid, I have always suffered from violent mood swings. One minute I'd be quiet and content, the next I'd either fly into a rageful fit, or dissolve into inconsolable sadness. I never knew why. There wasn't any apparent reason for any of it. Its just how I was. I didn't know it wasn't normal -- I was just a kid after all, and kids don't stop to think about whether or not their feelings are appropriate. I wasn't a bad kid mind you. My teachers all loved me, my friends parents did too. But I think it was obvious to them, and my mother (not my dad at first, because he wasn't around much), that I wasn't quite right.

My test scores were off the charts, but I couldn't seem to do my homework. I was always daydreaming. I wouldn't talk in class. But if you gave me a workbook, or a book to read, I would go through it the way most people only go through oxygen. I could have easily skipped grades, except that I refused to do more than the bare minimum, and I wasn't socially advanced enough to interact well with kids my own age, let alone ones older than me. And then there were the mood swings...

My mom, out of desperation, consulted with child psychologists and was told that I was just "a difficult child." See, in the early 80's, almost nothing was known about bipolar disorder in children (especially not children as young as I was), PTSD hadn't even been invented yet, and only specialists were trained in recognizing the emotional signs of molestation -- and children were only sent to those specialists if someone knew that something had happened. That was time one being mis-diagnosed.

After my parents divorce, I got worse (added stress does that), so I was sent to see a therapist. I was maybe ten at that point, and didn't much care for the woman I was sent to. So I didn't talk to her. We'd sit there in silence for the full hour. The diagnosis? Unresolved anger about my parents divorce. No matter that my behavioral idiosyncrasies started before that... But like I said: Child psychology in the 80's was ignorant of a lot of things. That was time two being mis-diagnosed.

My stability got worse as I got older. My mood swings got more and more extreme. My behavior became more and more irrational. I started sleeping erratically. Finally, my grades plummeted as I stopped caring about school. The grades were what really got my parents attention, since I'd never gotten below a B in anything except phys. ed., and suddenly there I was in 9th grade, failing my best subject (English -- shocking huh?). So they threw me back into therapy. This time, I talked, but never about what actually mattered. I talked about anything and everything except what was going on inside my own head. In truth, I didn't know what was going on inside my own head. But I used my therapist to get out of my mother's house, and into my dad's. And my therapist came up with a diagnosis of me being "cyclothymic" (having mood swings that were slightly more pronounced than normal). No treatment was provided for me other than therapy. None. What. So. Ever. That was time three being mis-diagnosed.

After moving to my dad's, I did okay for a while, but after a bit the freedom I had there started to negatively affect me. There was no one watching to make sure I went to bed on time. There was no one watching to see if I slept all afternoon. My dad was still very absentee, and his wife knew nothing about kids, let alone teenagers, so I ended up stopping sleeping with any sense of normalcy. I would stay awake for a few days, then sleep through classes or weekends. The mood swings got worse, faster, more drastic. The highs got higher, the lows got lower, and by 16 I'd become a cutter. A cutter, for those of you who don't know, is someone who cuts themselves in order to feel better, or to distract themselves from emotional pain. I did it because I could control the physical pain. I could control it when I couldn't control anything else I was feeling. I understood where it came from, and why it hurt so badly, when I couldn't understand my emotions, or why I felt so miserable all the time. I also did it as a reminder -- a reminder that there was a way out, no matter how hopelessly trapped in life I felt. I would cut, and I would feel relieved... Calm, and relaxed, for a little while at least. But things kept getting worse.

I would vibrate from insanely happy to morbidly depressed, sometimes several times within the space of a day, and it was exhausting. I had all but stopped sleeping, and had started hallucinating. I was terrified, seeing things that weren't there, hearing things that weren't there, even feeling things that weren't there. Going to take a shower in the morning, pulling aside the curtain, and seeing the walls and floor covered -- seething -- with insects, ants, spiders, wasps, mosquitoes, feeling them crawl over my hands and feet, only to have them disappear when I'd scream. I can't count how many times I lied to my father, saying that I'd screamed because a spider fell on me... I felt like I was going insane. I probably was, actually. I couldn't take it anymore and, at 17, tried to slit my wrists. I failed miserably the first time... But did a little better at it the second time. Better enough that I shocked myself into finally calling a therapist myself.

I was in therapy for 10 months that time. The woman was nice. She was caring. She asked all the wrong questions. She never asked if I hallucinated. She never asked if I slept. She never asked if I got too happy and acted crazy. All she asked was how sad, how hopeless, how suicidal I felt. She diagnosed me as clinically depressed, and sent me to a shrink for medication. He prescribed me Paxil. That, was time number four being mis-diagnosed, and time number one being mis-medicated.

Paxil turned me into an indifferent bitch. I didn't care about anything or anyone. I was too happy, all the time. I couldn't write, I couldn't draw, I couldn't create. I screwed over boyfriends, I screwed over friends, and none of it bothered me. I began to notice though, the lack of anything interesting in my life... And began to hate the person that I was. I stopped therapy, and took myself off the medication. I convinced myself that I could handle everything on my own. And for a while I did. I graduated high school. I started culinary school. And then I lost control again.

I partied with the wrong people, dated the wrong guys, got pregnant... But I still insisted that I was fine, that I was emotionally stable. Funny how we can be so blind to ourselves... I thought I was in control. Looking back though, I was out of control. Totally and utterly.

I got married, and lasted through it, clinging to sanity by a thread the whole time. I stayed awake for days and days at a time, full weeks, and crashed for days afterwards. My mood swings got worse again, and I would cry for no reason, I would yell for no reason, I would get surges of energy that drove me up the walls. But I was managing. I was aware, through research, of what was wrong with me, and thought that I could ride things out.

Then I got divorced. I started a long distance relationship. I went back to school. And the weekend before classes started, my ex moved out, and took my son with him. I screeched to a halt when that happened. That Friday, when I came home from work, I was looking forward to seeing my baby, and playing for a while. I was looking forward to his hugs and kisses and silly little games. I was planning dinner in my head. And as I was walking up the stairs, I realized... He wasn't there. He wasn't going to be there. He wasn't waiting for me. I can't begin to describe the grief... I was sobbing as I came through the door... Instead of setting my things down, I sank down in the middle of my living room, and cried. For hours. I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of the end.

I threw myself into work and school like never before, trying to stay so busy that I wouldn't have time to think about the fact that I didn't have my son around. I threw myself into work and school so hard, that I kicked myself into a manic state that lasted for months. Months of not sleeping more than an hour at a time, not eating. Months of working harder than I ever had before. Months... I crashed on Thanksgiving. The first holiday I spent without my son. I fell into a depression so bad that I couldn't get out of bed all weekend. But I snapped myself out of it, I drove myself back into a manic state, back into a forced high... I stopped sleeping all together at the end of December. Planning the visit from the guy I was involved with, planning my family "vacation" back east, finals, work, divorce stuff... I started to wear down. The hell that was my Christmas break, was the proverbial last straw... And as I started to go back to work, as I looked at registering for another full load of classes, I saw that I was hanging on to the edge of a very, very, tall cliff... By my fingernails. I could see the abyss below me... I could see the darkness reaching out for me, beckoning me... I called a therapist as fast as I could find one. Unfortunately, I was too late.

The day after my appointment with the therapist (who I do see now, by the way), I broke. I couldn't see straight, I couldn't stop crying, I was soooooooooo tired... And all I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep. And never, ever, wake up. But I couldn't sleep. I would close my eyes, and terrible things would come up behind my eyelids. Living nightmares. Blankets of crawling bugs, images of death and destruction, nightmares I thought I'd long left behind me... It all was there when I closed my eyes. I started searching my cupboards for something to help me sleep. I was crazed. Completely and totally insane at that point. Anything would do. Alcohol. Anything. Anything to make it STOP. And then I found the bottle of codeine... By the time I'd drank half of it my mind started to slow down, and I realized what I'd done. My body was shutting down as I called my ex, over and over, finally leaving a cryptic message ("I did something stupid") before falling into a deep coma like sleep.

Just A Quick Note...

To say hello, and let you know I haven't forgotten my blog. I'm hard at work on the whole breakdown story, which you all should be seeing show up here soon... Its turning out to be more of a novel than I had planned... Oh well.

A Day For New Things

Today has been a day for new things.

This morning on the way to work, I started a new (new to me anyway) Terry Pratchett Disc World novel called "Thief of Time." As is typical with Terry Pratchett, several stories are being told all at the same time, so the 45 pages I am into it already haven't told me too much. Or rather, they have told me too much... Of the wrong sort of thing for me to make out the immediate plot. That may not sound like a good writing style, but really, its rather ingenious, in that it catches your attention well enough and makes you wonder well enough that you are compelled to keep reading to find out what in the fuck is going on.

When I got to work, I was rushed into an emergency meeting in which I was assigned a new supervisor, and new "team" (whatever the fuck thats supposed to mean). Thankfully I'm familiar with the woman who's going to be my new supervisor, and her "team," so I'm not all in the dark... But the funny thing is that while I'm being transitioned to my new supervisor, I am not yet transitioned into my new position... Nor am I transitioned into the new organization. Fun shit.

After I got out of that meeting, I was dragged to another meeting in which the "new organization" was "officially launched" (again, whatever the fuck thats supposed to mean). This meeting lasted an hour and a half, and was followed by a "congratulatory BBQ" for the entire department. Most of the food sucked ass, which was NOT new, as they always use this particular caterer, with this exact menu, for every "staff appreciation luncheon," and it ALWAYS sucks ass. Except for the coleslaw, which is usually pretty damned good. The new part was the level of suckage that the potato salad attained. I have never had worse, not ever, from anywhere. Bleh.

When I finally got done with that, I found a voicemail waiting for me telling me that my new glasses had arrived and were ready for me to pick up (a week early), so I headed over to the optometry school for some more immensely wonderful personal service, and I'm now trying to get used to the things. Not only are they new glasses, with a new prescription, but they're a new shape as well, and have new features (such as photosensitive, and anti-reflective coatings). And while the world is looking remarkably clearer for the most part, I'm still getting used to seeing the edges of my glasses all up in my field of vision. Let me tell you -- that is NOT fun. It totally weirds me out, and has me thinking that I've got my glasses too far down on my nose or something, even though they're not. I do look amazingly cute in them though, so I'm not actually complaining... Just saying that the experience is a new one.

So yeah, lots of new things today.

Yes, I remember that I promised a post about the whole breakdown thingy... I haven't forgotten. I may write that later on, as there is literally nothing I can work on today because both the accounting system and the financial reporting system are down for the next week. FIIK how I'm going to get anything done... It may all just have to wait til next week. *shrug* Not my fault.

4000!

As of right this second... I've had 4000 hits on my blog... wow!

Thats all I wanted to say...

My Co-workers, My Family -- Part 2

Today is going to be one of those days where I don't actually get anything done. I can't concentrate. I just can't. I have a headache again... This time from crying though.

I've just gotten back from the going away party for D, and as much as I wanted to stand up and say something, I was too choked up to do it. I wasn't the only one in tears, thankfully, or I would have felt like a fool.

The party was nice -- people from all over campus showed up to send their best wishes, which meant that I got to see a couple of old co-workers that I hadn't seen in a long time. Catching up with them was pleasant, and they all seemed a lot happier after having left the department...

Things only got weird when they asked about where I'd been for the 6 months I was gone. I mean, having had a breakdown isn't really something you want to advertise in a work environment, no matter how much you like the person you're talking to. But everyone I talked to kept saying how I look great, and how the time off must have been good for me, how I look more relaxed, and so on...

People are just treating it like I took an extended vacation... Which, while better than assuming I was on respirators the whole time, is just as inaccurate.

You know, I don't think I've really gone into detail about all that here... I will though, I promise. Maybe today even, since I can't concentrate on work.

Anyway. So there were ups this afternoon as well as downs. But as usual, its the downs that are sticking with me.

I am really REALLY going to miss D. And I have no clue how we're all going to manage without her, especially me.

Dammit... Here I go with the tears again. *wanders off to try and find a tissue*

My Co-workers, My Family

Wow, I guess I had a bit of a meltdown last night.

Surprisingly though, things dont seem quite so bleak this morning. Yes, I'm still stuck in a dead end government job, but this morning I was greeted by smiling faces in the hall, and friendly banter in the copy room... And it dawned on me that I work with a group of really good people; people who are genuinely caring and considerate, people who care just as much about me on a personal level as my own family -- If not more so.

When I mentioned this morning that I was anxious for the day to be over and done because the guy I'm seeing is picking me up, the person I was talking to asked about him and wanted to hear everything -- how we met, what he's like -- everything. And she was genuinely happy to see me happy. Whereas, when my mom heard that I'm finally seeing someone again, she didn't want to hear anything, and pretty much pretended that I hadn't said anything about it.

As much as I hate my job, I love the people that I work closely with. We're like family to one another. And even while that family is being broken up because of management issues and people finding other jobs, we still care enough about one another to throw going away parties, and birthday parties, and keep in touch.

Today is my supervisor's last day (we'll call her D, for anonymity's sake). She got a job at the Rec Center here on campus. Its her dream job -- ultra cush -- and we all wish her the best. But I'm going to miss her horribly.

When I first started here, as a temp, her daughter and I worked together under someone else. But D still happily helped train me. She's been somewhat of a mother to all of us, always asking to make sure we're doing alright, and seeing if we needed anything... When I had questions, I would go to her instead of my own boss whenever possible, because she never made me feel stupid for not knowing how to do something. When my boss quit, and I found out that D was going to be my new supervisor, I couldn't have been happier. When I was out on disability, she called to see how I was doing. She sent me emails to check on me, and reassure me that things would be better when I came back. When I did finally come back to work, she made a point to make sure I wasn't overwhelmed or overloaded. She watched out for me, and cheerfully took anything off my desk that I couldn't handle.

D is the only supervisor I've ever had that has truly had my back, and cared about how I'm doing as a person, as well as an employee. Once she's gone, I'll be left to deal directly with upper management on my own. With no buffer zone. While I've been in that situation before, and can handle it, its not a pleasant experience... And I'm dreading D's departure like nothing else. Not just because of the management thing, but because I'm going to miss her motherly care, attention, and encouragement. She's always believed in me, trusted that I could do well, and told me more than once that she thinks I could go really far here, even without a degree.

I'm actually in tears writing this... I really feel as if I'm losing a close family member... And it hurts a lot more than I thought it would...

Miserably, Horribly, Stuck

Well this is a change... posting from home, I mean.

I am totally and utterly emotionally drained tonight, and yet, I still cant stop my brain from running circles... See, I had a therapist appointment today, and I'm always the worse for it afterwards... I know that doesn't sound like a good thing... But really it is, in a kind of weird way. I think it means that I'm actually thinking, and talking, about the difficult stuff, and trying to work through it. I mean, its not like no progress is made... Its just that I get caught up in all the hurt and stuff, and that stays with me after the session. I have an obsessive mind, thats all. My therapist says thats because of anxiety... I dunno if I buy that though. I just obsess, even about things that aren't bothering me. I get fixated, and can't seem to let go of things. Last night, for example, I was talking with the guy I've been seeing for the past month (OMG a month? Jeez... ) about this creative thing... Making a parody of a game we're both familiar with... And I just kind of got stuck on it. Couldn't stop thinking stuff up. I was even thinking about it today at work.

So yeah, back to what I was saying. I obsess on things that most people wouldn't. I can't help it. The meds I take help with that a little bit, but really not enough to put a stop to it even by half. They basically just stop it enough so that I can get sleep, but don't help much during the day. And my latest obsession is frustration with work. I feel trapped in my job... Wholly and completely trapped. I've been applying for jobs all over campus, but can't seem to get any. And because my job is so specialized, and so specific to campus, I don't have the experience necessary to get a job in the private sector. It doesn't matter how smart I am, or how skilled I am at analysis, or how quickly I can learn software... It doesn't matter that I've been doing AR/AP for almost 4 years now. All that matters is that I don't have a degree, and I don't have private sector experience. Admittedly, private sector is MUCH different from public sector... But not so different that I couldn't do it. Besides, I have taken accounting and management classes... I just don't have a full on degree. I need a way to get my foot in the door... And I don't have one. People keep telling me that I should go back to school... But theres no way for me to do that and keep working full time. And I can't afford to not work full time. And even if I do go back to school again... What would I study? I really don't want to be an accountant for the rest of my life... As good as I am at it, I rather hate the lack of thought that it requires. I hate to say it, but its too easy. And yet, the stress levels are ridiculously high. Its a volume thing, and a politics thing, not a difficulty level thing. Its the stress level that I despise you see. I just can't handle them. And as much as I'd love to be an English teacher, the stress levels there are ridiculous too. So what to do?

I haven't a clue really. I just need a break somewhere. Someone to give me a step up, give me a chance to prove myself... I'm SO good at the conceptual stuff, the abstract business principles... Its intuitive for me. I barely have to think about it to be able to pull that kind of thing off seamlessly. But because I don't have a degree, the higher level positions, the positions that deal with the abstract and conceptual work, are denied to me. No matter that I'm better at it than most MBA's that I know... No matter that I live for that kind of puzzle... No matter that I have a natural attention to detail that would make a brain surgeon look inept... All that matters is if I have a degree, and if I've proven myself elsewhere. And it frustrates me.

I can't get ahead... I can't even get sideways. I'm stuck. Miserably, horribly, stuck. And I don't know what to do about it. And neither does my therapist. And neither do my friends. Or my mom. And my dad doesn't understand about being stuck in a job, cuz he's never had to look for one in his life. He's always had them handed to him on a silver platter, or offered to him on bended knee... And he's never had a job that he hated. Ever. So his view is that I should just keep working, and be content to try to move up the ladder where I'm at. He doesn't realize the hell I'm in, and every time I try to explain it to him, he passes it off as mild discontent...

I hate feeling trapped. I hate feeling helpless. Especially when it comes to my own success or lack there of... GRRR.

Yet Another New Look

Thanks to Cat & Sapphire, who gave me the link for this template site where I got the basics for the new look! (those of you reading my RSS feed should stop by the actual site and check things out).

Today... I have wasted my entire day updating my blog. I really should do some work, but I'm just not feeling it, and with the accounting system still down, theres no big rush for me to do much of anything.

In the course of updating my blog, I had to go through and change the font color on 2 months worth of posting, so that it would show up against the current backround... oy. Talk about tedious. But I shouldn't have to do anything more to it now... Though there might be some minor changes later on. And I even figured out how to keep the blogger comments in my posts with the new template. Yay me! But I did get a chance to go back and read through a lot of the things I'd written... And wow. Am I a bit of a different person now or what? I mean, to me, I seem more mellow, more laid back, more content... And theres a lot less of that drastic mood change stuff. No more huge roller coaster. Just your normal every day rolling hills.

Its kind of strange to look back at yourself that way... And see how different you are, how much you've changed, just in the space of a year or so... Its like when I go back and read my journals from when I was a teenager... I read and read, and then I stop and say "Wow. Was I really like that??" I think its healthy to look back at yourself like that from time to time, to remind yourself how far you've come... It gives one hope. It makes you realize that if you've come so far already, you'll be able to go just that much further in the future.

A good thing, all in all... Though it is a little weird to relive your life through more mature eyes... But it's worth it.

Weird Things You See In The EE Dept

Walking down the hall, I saw a pile of boxes stacked against the wall. One of the boxes had a neon green sticker on it that said:

"Do Not Fork Here"

I laughed, and wished I had my camera.

Um... Suggestions Anyone?

You know, I've always considered myself in pretty good health, but lately I'm starting to wonder if that's an accurate assessment. I don't have anything life threatening wrong with me, and my doctor always gives me a clean bill of health when I have a check up (which I do have yearly), but I always seem to have some sort of small health annoyance going on, and almost never feel perfectly fine. There's always something that hurts, or I have a cold, or my allergies are acting up, or I just generally feel run down... I've even had aquaintances inquire whether I have something systemic to blame for my constant list of complaints.

Take today for example: My allergies are still bothering me (small cough), I have a headache that won't quit, my stomach is queasy, my shoulder and neck ache, and my knee still hurts from Saturday. Overall, I just feel crappy. And thats the norm for me.

Thing is, theres nothing major wrong with me physically that would cause such a constant level of discomfort. I do have old injuries that act up occasionally (the shoulder and the knees), and I do have PCOS (poly cystic ovarian syndrome)... But the old injuries only explain the body aches, and the PCOS symptoms are either sporadic, or for the most part unnoticable.

Headaches and upset tummies are becoming a regular thing for me, instead of an exception... And I have to wonder whats up with that. The headaches aren't eye strain related. I just had that optometrist appointment, and there was barely a change in my prescription. So small a change, in fact, that the doctor said I didn't even need to get new glasses (I am anyway because I want some that are more stylish, have that photo sensitive stuff, and are non-reflective). And the headaches show up whether or not my allergies are being bitchy, so its not that either.

As for the tummy thing: I eat pretty healthy. I don't overdo sugar or greasy stuff or anything else. So I haven't a clue whats causing all that.

Except... Maybe... Stress? Its hard to think of stress having such a physical manifestation like that, but thats got to be it, right? I mean, like I said, theres nothing else wrong with me that would explain it. I've heard of people breaking out in rashes from stress, having heart attacks from stress, fainting from stress, all sorts of things. So maybe the whole being back at work thing might finally be starting to take its toll on me in more than just a mental way? But how do I do anything about that? I have to work -- I need an income, and sitting at home all day gets real boring real fast. I've never been very much good at the whole "de-stressing" thing... My mind is a little too overactive for that. But I try to distract myself as much as possible -- by listening to music (er, blaring metal more like -- and no, thats not causing the headaches either!), reading, watching TV or movies, and occasionally getting myself a bit tipsy... And it works in the moment. But the second I stop, everything comes flooding back, and I'm beyond tense again. Bleh.

Any suggestions???

Catching Up

I know, I know, I'm not keeping up on posting... But yesterday was one of those days that was spent running around in a tizzy, not spending enough time at my desk to accomplish any work, let alone write here.

So, having explained my absence, let me recap the past few days:

Friday I left straight from work with my mom and my son to head up to her cabin for the weekend. We stopped in Davis to pick up my sister, and grab dinner, and didn't end up getting to the cabin until about midnight.

Why did it take so long? Well, let me give you an idea of just how out in the middle of BFE this place is. From Berkeley, you have to drive an hour and a half to Sacramento. From Sac, another 45 min to Marysville. From Marysville, its another hour and a half North East, past Plumas National Forest, before you get to a teeeeeeeny tiny little village (a general store with a bar in it, an RV park, and a post office -- population? Under 200) called Clipper Mills. On the outskirts of Clipper Mills, you go off the paved road for a good 2 to 3 miles before you end up on the 7.1 acres of undeveloped forest my mom and her husband own.

When I say undeveloped, I mean just that. There is NO electricity and NO running water. There is a cabin, of sorts (which I'll describe in a minute), and an outhouse.

The "cabin" is actually kind of cool. It was originally a 20ft metal shipping container (like the ones you see on trains) and has been outfitted with a door and windows. My mom's husband sided the thing with cedar, and built a loft onto it... It actually looks pretty good. They put in a wood burning stove, and a propane range/oven, and furnished the place pretty simply. Its cozy... althought, to be honest, I would have been happier in a tent... But that's mainly because Mom stuck me up in the loft to sleep, and not only am I deathly afraid of heights, but the ladder to get up there was murder on my knees. In fact, I ended up wrenching my knee climbing the cursed thing, and spent the entire weekend in wicked amounts of pain. I refused to be deterred from hiking at least a little bit, but ooooooh am I still paying for it! OW!

The outhouse, and I know this next bit is going to sound odd, was cool too. See, they built the thing way up this hill, away from the cabin, facing out over this wonderful vista. And because its so far up, you can leave the door wide open, and enjoy the view while you do your thing. Weird, I know, but... Hey, when have I ever claimed to be normal? There was also a little mouse who'd taken up residence in the thing. He was remarkably civilized for a mountain mouse; leaving his droppings in the urinal thingy, and clawing up the TP as if attempting to get a piece small enough for his little butt... My mom didn't appreciate the humor in it, but my sister and I got quite a laugh.

Lessee... Other memorable moments...

My mom scared my son while hiking by telling him to be careful of rattle snakes. So, the poor kid spent the entire hike asking if any rattlers were around, and then asking if there were cobras too (because, you know, if there is one deadly snake around, there must be more... right?). And we could not convince him that there wasnt anything to worry about.

My sister and I were watching a humming bird that sounded like a Harley and had a red patch on its throat, and I turned to my sis and said "Look! Even the birds up here are rednecks!" (damn I'm funny).

On the drive up, Mom and I had my son singing along with The Beatles "Hey Jude," "Yellow Submarine," and "Octopusses Garden." My kid has some seriously good taste in music. I wonder where he gets that from? *wink wink*

I had rather disturbing dreams while crammed up in that loft... I kept dreaming that I couldn't breathe. Not that someone was suffocating me, or choking me, or anything like that. Just that I couldn't breathe. And I kept waking up gasping for air. Weird shit man. Weird shit.

Oh yeah... And I made quite the fool of myself several times by shrieking when crickets jumped at me unexpectedly. In my defense, I have huge phobias of a variety of bugs (not crickets mind you), and have huge issues with things jumping at, or being thrown at, my face. So the combination of "unknown bug," "thing in my face," and "surprise" was overwhelming enough to make me scream like a girl. And no, I am not a girl. I am a woman, thank you very much, and should scream accordingly!

By the time I got home Sunday, I was desperate for some non-familial adult interaction *ahem* with which I was enthusiastically provided *blush, cough cough*

You know... There's something about having someone to fall asleep, and wake up, next to that is amazingly pleasant. Especially when its someone you really, really like a lot. *grin*

Okay... Where was I? Right, lost in sappy romantic day dream land. *shakes head vigorously* Thats enough of that! On to Monday!

Monday was easily one of the most hectic days I've ever had. First thing in the morning I was asked to serve as union representation for my department in a barganing session about this stupid re structuring thing. That afternoon. I agreed of course. I mean, what was I going to say? "No thanks, I don't give a shit about my job at all," or "Nah, thats okay, no one needs to hear the staff's side of the story"?? Riiiiiiight. So I spent all the rest of my morning (an hour or so after all was said and done) trying my best to prepare for this impromtu obligation.

The meeting was weird. I mean, this is the first one of these things that I've ever been to, and I felt entirely out of place, seeing as I was in jeans and a tank top (as usual), and everyone else was much more formally dressed. I was also the youngest person in the room by a good decade or so. The thing that was the strangest though, was that people actually listened to what I had to say. I mean, truly listened. They were even TAKING NOTES while I was talking! I'm used to my concerns and opinions being automatically dismissed because I'm "young and inexperienced." I am NOT used to being taken seriously.

Immediately after the meeting, I had to dash all the way back up the hill to make an optometrist appointment at the optometry school here... which they ended up taking me an hour late for... *grumble grumble* Cool thing though, I got one of the strangest compliments ever, during that appointment. After they dilated my pupils, and the student clinician had done her thing, the attending doctor came in and had his look. While he was using some arcane apparatus to blind me (temporarily), he says to the student: "Wow! What did you rate these?" The student says: "4 plus" Then the doctor explains to me that they have a scale to rate the size of dilated pupils, and that on that scale of 1 to 4, I'm about a 6. Then he went on talking to the student (still blinding me) saying things like: "that's textbook!" and "these are amazingly healthy!", all in a tone of voice that made it sound like my eyes were the greatest things since sliced bread. So yeah, I have textbook retinas, my eyes (despite having myopic astigmatism) are amazingly healthy, and dilate off the scale by half. Yay me.

And the day's not over yet!

When I finally got home (after picking out some very cool new glasses), I immediately jumped into a 2 hour explanation of various accounting concepts, and totally fried my brain. I didn't mind though -- helping out someone I care about is always, in my opinion, worth my time and effort *smile*

Wow, have I been busy or what?

Probably won't post tomorrow... have to actually work for once... but yeah... *sigh* oh well.

Days Like These

Have you ever had one of those days where you just feel completely detached from reality? Where everything feels distant and surrealistic, as if you're watching life play itself out on a movie screen, like a Fellini film? Thats kind of how my day is going today...

Maybe the weather has something to do with it? The grey light, filtering down through rain laden clouds, washing out the already stonewashed concrete of the city... The air filling with that sticky, static charge of impending precipitation that always seems to upset my equilibrium, and makes you feel like there's more depth to the air around you than there actually is, as if its a curtain waiting to be pushed aside... Sound takes on new resonance; footsteps and labored breathing echo in your ears, thick and heavy, like a lead pipe banging against a dumpster. Everything seems louder than it should, or maybe the world seems quieter...

Its days like these that make me feel as if I don't quite belong here. Days like these find me longing for a home I've never seen... A home that may not even exist... Days like these, I feel different, as if I belong to another land, another world, another dimension. I've never truly felt at home anywhere on this earth, and days like these, I feel the outsider -- a tourist from a far away place... Or maybe a far away time. I feel out of phaze with the world around me, like you could put your hand right through me, and I wouldn't feel a thing.

I'm bursting with energy, and yet, at the same time, I feel drained... As if I'm acting as some sort of conduit; pulsing with electricity, yet keeping none of it for myself...

And my mind... Is in a world of its own. Daydreaming of a mysterious green land, full of mythical creatures and magic. I can see myself there, and it feels right somehow... Losing myself in the daydream... A sorceress on a legendary journey...

I need to write so badly... To lose myself in that dream world.. To live through my own words... So badly... My hand refuses to set down the pencil for more than a few minutes...

And here I am, stuck at work.

I Work In Hell

Something funny happened this morning as I was out for an extended smoke break with some women from another office...

We were all standing out behind the building in the "smoking section" (as we have lovingly dubbed it), talking about all the crazy shit that's been going on in my department (M, S, and myself), when suddenly M turns to me and says, "Aren't you freezing?"

It's 60 degrees out, overcast, and slightly misty... And I'm in jeans and a tank top. Hey, I'm from NY. Its not even chilly until it hits 40.

"No," I say, "It's nice out here"
"Of course she's not cold," S says, "she just came from hell!"
"Yeah," I say, "this weather is a nice change from the pit of molten lava under my desk."
We all laugh...

So it's official. I work in Hell. Even people from other departments think so. The only thing that could make it any more obvious is if the Deputy Director sprouted horns and a tail, and started wandering the halls carrying a pitch fork. Just you watch -- He'll dress up that way for Halloween! LOL

She's A Devil In Bed

So I illegally downloaded some music a couple days ago... and among the songs I got was this one:

She's the kind of girl you bring home to your mother
She looks good in blue jeans even better under covers
She's a devil in bed between the sheets
Ask her if she's a saint and she'll get down on her knees and pray
Yeah yeah yeah

-- Silvertide "Blue Jeans"

It soooooo reminds me of me... especially that last bit... *wink wink* (at least one of you -- and you know who you are -- knows what I'm talking about... *mischevious grin*)

Anywhich... I know I haven't posted in a while... work has been keeping me busy, and I really haven't had much to say.

Right now I'm in a very UP mood... just kinda flying along, minding my own business, rocking out with my ipod, while people walk past my desk and look at me funny. Don't ask me WHY I'm in an up mood... really I shouldn't be... work is hellish, and my boss just quit, and today is the last day to get anything done in the accounting system for 3 weeks... blah blah blah... but I don't give a fuck about it right now. I really don't. I'm feeling damned good, and I'm going to enjoy that, no matter what!

Oh yeah, going camping with my mom this weekend... that should be um... interesting... er... yeah. I'll fill y'all in later. I'm hungry. Gonna go eat somethin spicy, and full of carbohydrates and saturated fats. YUM.

Outraged!

One of my very good friends from work is volunteering with the Red Cross to go and help in New Orleans. She goes to training tomorrow, and will be flown out first thing Monday, for two weeks. I wish I could go with her. I wish I could do more than just donate ad space on my blog. I want to actively do something.

My friend is originally from Algeria (that's in Africa, for those of you who are geographically challenged), and she was telling me that every day, New Orleans reminds her more and more of Africa -- the lack of care for people, the lack of government assistance, the anarchy, the devastation and chaos. She says its worse in New Orleans now than in most third world countries, and she is outraged at the US government for their ineptitude.

I share her rage.

The US is one of the most powerful countries in the world. We send aid to other countries when they suffer natural disasters. We meddle, and fight wars on foreign soil. We take in refugees from other countries. But we can't save our own citizens when disaster strikes on our own soil!! We leave them to suffer in completely uninhabitable conditions for days on end, with no food, or water, or medicine, whining the whole while that we don't have the resources to do more.

FUCK THAT!

This is the most resourceful and innovative country in the world, and we can't figure out how to evacuate a couple hundred thousand people?? We have military bases sitting empty and unused, and we can't house thousands of refugees?? We pay farmers to throw away crops, and we can't feed thousands of people??

Am I the only one who is so completely and totally appalled at this? I mean, look -- I'm a 26 yr old accountant with no college degree, and even I can figure out how to fix this mess!!

1. Open up every abandoned military installation with plumbing and electrical capacity.
2. Staff the installations with Dr's and Nurses.
3. Stock them with food, water, and medicines.
4. Allow the Red Cross, and other humanitarian aid organizations access to the installations.
5. Commandeer every working Greyhound or charter bus in the area, and bus refugees to the nearest functional airport.
6. Commandeer every working commercial airplane in the area, and fly refugees to those military installations.
7. Send all available military troops to New Orleans, and other devastated areas, to rescue remaining victims and evacuate them, to restore order, and start cleaning up the mess.
8. Use the Superdome (or whatever the hell they call it) as a make-shift morgue instead of a shelter (its not fit for the living, use it for the dead) until bodies can be flown in cargo planes to a more suitable location, identified, and cremated.

Now... How hard was that? Its completely do-able. And its better than anything anyone else is doing at the moment. And a nobody in a crappy government job thought of it. If I can think of it, why can't our oh-so-knowledgeable government figure it out?

Man... This country makes me sick. It really does.

The Beginning Of The End

One of the most powerful countries in the world has been crippled. Not by war, not by terrorism, but by the wrath of Mother Nature; by one single storm.

I have to wonder if anyone realizes yet, that Katrina is the beginning of the end -- of this country's stability, of this country's power, of this country's society -- of life as we know it.

Just the lack of oil, gasoline, and natural gas is already causing the entire South East United States to grind to a halt, and it won't be long before the entire Eastern Seaboard feels the crush as well. Next will be the West Coast, and soon thereafter, the rest of the world will be noticing the loss of our commerce...

We thought the economy was bad before? Just wait a month. The GNP will drop through the floor. The forced poverty of the South East will cause higher taxes, higher insurance premiums, sky high gasoline prices (as is already being demonstrated in Georgia and Alabama), higher transportation costs, product costs will go through the roof...

And as the waters recede from devastated areas, health risks and disease will flourish and spread. Diseases that the US hasn't had to face in a hundred years or more, if at all, will rise up and take even more lives: Malaria, cholera, deadly molds, bacterias...

The Gulf Coast will become a graveyard... A death trap... If it isn't already worthy of those titles.

And still the looting continues... Violence is taking hold, and isn't going to be letting go any time soon. Police officers are shot protecting material posessions. People are shot, for trying to make off with material posessions. Evacuations are put on pause because scared people are shooting at eachother...

Refugees... I can't believe I'm actually using that word to describe Americans. Americans are never the refugees. We're always the refuge. But that's changing too. Refugees will flood other states (and maybe even other countries), creating a burden on local governments, and building animosity between themselves and the previous residents...

Martial law will have to be set in place as scared, sick, and starving people overrun local law enforcement...

Call me pessimistic, but I can see how this national disaster could eventually be the cause of a revolution or civil war. Maybe we need a revolution, the way this country has been going... But I had hoped it wouldn't happen in my lifetime, or my son's... And its looking more and more like it will.

Katrina may have just been a hurricane, but she's turning out to be a catalyst as well -- And I, for one, am afraid of what the future has in store for us.