So here is where you can find my pics of my vacation.
Thanks to My Hero, I can't think of anything but happiness when I think of California. Not that I'll move out there anytime soon. I'm a New Yorker, born and bred. But for vacation spots--yeah. The bestest ever! (Until I get in swimsuit shape and take my first trip to a tropic island).
As to the Crazy Plane Girl tally, Dawn has tilted the seesaw into the "RUN!!!" category. Which was my inclination at the start. Which is why I asked for advice, in case it was just me being the unmedicated me. And which is why I haven't called her, with or without advice. Too many warning flags. She needs me in a professional capacity, not a personal one--and still, no. I'm not the only therapist on the east coast.
Thanks all! Enjoy the pics!
Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
Monday, August 4, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Med Life And Other Oddities
So in Cali, on Saturday, I ran out of my medication. I had the option of calling my doctor back in NJ and having him/them/it call in my perscription. But
1) I was having too much fun to make a pharmacy pitstop,
2) I was being transported, as opposed to transporting myself, and so I didn't want to interrupt their flow
3) I missed a med before and figured I'd just ride it out until I got home.
So let me tell you the two things that happened to me on the plane rides back to New York. I hesitate to give too many details because I don't want the ladies in question to somehow find this story from a Googlation.
But anyway, leaving Cali, I had an aisle seat. There was a young couple next to me. The fella asked me if I would trade seats with him because his wife was feeling ill and it would help if she had an aisle seat. So I got the window--a nice view. (Whatever meds left in my system let me enjoy the scenery. I'll be posting pictures.) When the fella said, "My wife," the girl in question made a little gasp and said, "You called me your wife." It took me a few minutes, but I asked, "So you guys are just married?" Happy nods. I sidled into the window seat and spoke briefly with the groom. They were heading out to their honeymoon. They'd been married in one of the San Somethingorothers. His name was Such-and-such. Me, I took some pictures out of the window, put on my mp3 player to drown out the dental student in the seat behind me who had that kind of voice (proceeding to use it for the ENTIRE trip), and when "Save The Best For Last" came on, I bawled for a half an hour. Good thing I had a window seat.
Now, it seems likely that this happened to me as a result of being off my meds. However, the elements were also in place for a good drenching. First off, I was leaving my friend behind and there was no telling when I'd see him again. I missed him even though it was only just three hours since he'd dropped me off at the airport. Secondly, here was another example of the M-word sitting next to me, young and fresh and new, just starting their adventure together while I was going back to Alone Street. Thirdly, "Save The Best For Last" by Vanessa Williams has some sad-ass chords in it.
Eventually I dried up and the bride justified the need for the seat change all. the. way. to. Texas. Barf bags are your friend. Unfortunately, she ran out of them and commenced to using a plastic (read; poorly insulated and in no stretch of the imagination airtight) bag. It helped eliminate my doldrums like Raid helps kill roaches.
Okay, now for the connecting flight from Texas. My seat was on the two-person side this time instead of the three-. To remind you, I was off my meds, so I didn't want to hear it. On Headphones! Switch to Janet! I was in musical bliss. EVentually my seat partner came in the guise of a normally configured gal who slept for most of the flight. Me, I read comics (my stash from the Comic Con) and eventually used my laptop battery power on some script pages for My Hero's second season of audio. This seemed to get her attention. When the battery beeped at me, I saved the document and put the comp away ... and she asked me what I had been doing.
The conversation that ensued was an anomaly from out of time and space, largely because it was happening to ME and not Joe College, backwards-fitted hat, flip-flop wearing, "dude"-sayin' Johnny Square-Jaw. She opened up immediately, revealing her profession. The nature of it was a cross the Scarlet Witch and Psylocke. (Sorry non-geeks, but I can't describe it any better. In laymen's terms, she was a mystic.) Of course I was skeptical. She tried to give it as much legitimacy as she could manage, but it was coming out like this; "mwah, mwah-mwah, mwah mwahhhhh" (my best typed impression of Charlie Brown Adult speak). Then I went and told her what I did (for the uninitiated, I'm a therapist) and it seemed like my attractiveness factor went up exponentially at that point. Oh she went into her manic depressive ex-husbands and boyfriends, and her New York friends, and why did her life take this direction, and what she told this one and that one and "honeychilde" this, and "okay?" that and rolling her neck, and snapping her fingers. And no, she was not black. She was adapting to me, who is. Not my favorite style of communication, may I add at this point. After she'd brought herself to tears, she started in on me. She actually asked me ... ACTUALLY ... "When's the last time you had a lover?" This came on the heels of her showing me a picture of herself when she was a model. It was quite a tasteful b&w pic. Topless. I sh!t you not.
And then I got them digits (ie; phone number). Again, no sh!t content to this.
But here's what needs telling. She was a total wreck. She was as manic as Brad Pitt is famous. She was completely inappropriate with me, a stranger. She was over the top.
And she was ready.
I know with all my heart and soul that she'd be an AMAZING lay. She'd sing opera. She'd have me swinging from the ceiling and speaking Portugese.
She'd swallow.
Now, here's the question. Should I call her?
See, I was off my meds. I had a real life crying jag that morning. But even so, I didn't feel attracted to this gal. (Isn't that just the story of my life?) In fact, I felt a little scared. This was something out of a comedy movie like that one with Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock--she was a nutter and he was getting married. But her wildness attracted him and he threw everything away to be caught up in her whirlwind. But here in my case, it wasn't scripted for maximum laughation. And it wouldn't end conveniently with a roll of credits.
And Scott, also also notable is that she lives in your city, not mine. She invited me to go hang with her, but all I was thinking about was that it would be an opportunity to go hang with you as long as I was in town. Now that's no way to treat a lady, right? And as sure as I have size 9 1/2 shoes on, I just know that even if she and I made an arrangement to be eff-buddies, she'd catch feelings and make my life miserable if I didn't commit. When I said she brought herself to tears, I mean literally cried as she mentioned one of all those exes. Now, I'm a good therapist, but damn. I wasn't doing therapy per se--I was just making conversation.
So tell me people, is this the second coming of Glenn Close, or is this the unmedicated fearful me talking? Guys, what would you do? What have you done in the past?
Meanwhile I hadn't started my meds again until this morning, and I'd been dizzy for the past two days, which the doctor's office said was a side effect of stopping the meds so soon. Which sucks. Doc offered to have me come in to have my blood pressure checked, so evidently the meds affect my circulation in order to assist my brain. That's a little scary. And I hate being dizzy. But I like not being anxious more than that, so I re-upped.
Anyway, I need feedback on Crazy Plane Girl. Let 'er rip!
1) I was having too much fun to make a pharmacy pitstop,
2) I was being transported, as opposed to transporting myself, and so I didn't want to interrupt their flow
3) I missed a med before and figured I'd just ride it out until I got home.
So let me tell you the two things that happened to me on the plane rides back to New York. I hesitate to give too many details because I don't want the ladies in question to somehow find this story from a Googlation.
But anyway, leaving Cali, I had an aisle seat. There was a young couple next to me. The fella asked me if I would trade seats with him because his wife was feeling ill and it would help if she had an aisle seat. So I got the window--a nice view. (Whatever meds left in my system let me enjoy the scenery. I'll be posting pictures.) When the fella said, "My wife," the girl in question made a little gasp and said, "You called me your wife." It took me a few minutes, but I asked, "So you guys are just married?" Happy nods. I sidled into the window seat and spoke briefly with the groom. They were heading out to their honeymoon. They'd been married in one of the San Somethingorothers. His name was Such-and-such. Me, I took some pictures out of the window, put on my mp3 player to drown out the dental student in the seat behind me who had that kind of voice (proceeding to use it for the ENTIRE trip), and when "Save The Best For Last" came on, I bawled for a half an hour. Good thing I had a window seat.
Now, it seems likely that this happened to me as a result of being off my meds. However, the elements were also in place for a good drenching. First off, I was leaving my friend behind and there was no telling when I'd see him again. I missed him even though it was only just three hours since he'd dropped me off at the airport. Secondly, here was another example of the M-word sitting next to me, young and fresh and new, just starting their adventure together while I was going back to Alone Street. Thirdly, "Save The Best For Last" by Vanessa Williams has some sad-ass chords in it.
Eventually I dried up and the bride justified the need for the seat change all. the. way. to. Texas. Barf bags are your friend. Unfortunately, she ran out of them and commenced to using a plastic (read; poorly insulated and in no stretch of the imagination airtight) bag. It helped eliminate my doldrums like Raid helps kill roaches.
Okay, now for the connecting flight from Texas. My seat was on the two-person side this time instead of the three-. To remind you, I was off my meds, so I didn't want to hear it. On Headphones! Switch to Janet! I was in musical bliss. EVentually my seat partner came in the guise of a normally configured gal who slept for most of the flight. Me, I read comics (my stash from the Comic Con) and eventually used my laptop battery power on some script pages for My Hero's second season of audio. This seemed to get her attention. When the battery beeped at me, I saved the document and put the comp away ... and she asked me what I had been doing.
The conversation that ensued was an anomaly from out of time and space, largely because it was happening to ME and not Joe College, backwards-fitted hat, flip-flop wearing, "dude"-sayin' Johnny Square-Jaw. She opened up immediately, revealing her profession. The nature of it was a cross the Scarlet Witch and Psylocke. (Sorry non-geeks, but I can't describe it any better. In laymen's terms, she was a mystic.) Of course I was skeptical. She tried to give it as much legitimacy as she could manage, but it was coming out like this; "mwah, mwah-mwah, mwah mwahhhhh" (my best typed impression of Charlie Brown Adult speak). Then I went and told her what I did (for the uninitiated, I'm a therapist) and it seemed like my attractiveness factor went up exponentially at that point. Oh she went into her manic depressive ex-husbands and boyfriends, and her New York friends, and why did her life take this direction, and what she told this one and that one and "honeychilde" this, and "okay?" that and rolling her neck, and snapping her fingers. And no, she was not black. She was adapting to me, who is. Not my favorite style of communication, may I add at this point. After she'd brought herself to tears, she started in on me. She actually asked me ... ACTUALLY ... "When's the last time you had a lover?" This came on the heels of her showing me a picture of herself when she was a model. It was quite a tasteful b&w pic. Topless. I sh!t you not.
And then I got them digits (ie; phone number). Again, no sh!t content to this.
But here's what needs telling. She was a total wreck. She was as manic as Brad Pitt is famous. She was completely inappropriate with me, a stranger. She was over the top.
And she was ready.
I know with all my heart and soul that she'd be an AMAZING lay. She'd sing opera. She'd have me swinging from the ceiling and speaking Portugese.
She'd swallow.
Now, here's the question. Should I call her?
See, I was off my meds. I had a real life crying jag that morning. But even so, I didn't feel attracted to this gal. (Isn't that just the story of my life?) In fact, I felt a little scared. This was something out of a comedy movie like that one with Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock--she was a nutter and he was getting married. But her wildness attracted him and he threw everything away to be caught up in her whirlwind. But here in my case, it wasn't scripted for maximum laughation. And it wouldn't end conveniently with a roll of credits.
And Scott, also also notable is that she lives in your city, not mine. She invited me to go hang with her, but all I was thinking about was that it would be an opportunity to go hang with you as long as I was in town. Now that's no way to treat a lady, right? And as sure as I have size 9 1/2 shoes on, I just know that even if she and I made an arrangement to be eff-buddies, she'd catch feelings and make my life miserable if I didn't commit. When I said she brought herself to tears, I mean literally cried as she mentioned one of all those exes. Now, I'm a good therapist, but damn. I wasn't doing therapy per se--I was just making conversation.
So tell me people, is this the second coming of Glenn Close, or is this the unmedicated fearful me talking? Guys, what would you do? What have you done in the past?
Meanwhile I hadn't started my meds again until this morning, and I'd been dizzy for the past two days, which the doctor's office said was a side effect of stopping the meds so soon. Which sucks. Doc offered to have me come in to have my blood pressure checked, so evidently the meds affect my circulation in order to assist my brain. That's a little scary. And I hate being dizzy. But I like not being anxious more than that, so I re-upped.
Anyway, I need feedback on Crazy Plane Girl. Let 'er rip!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
A Bit Of Anxiety Indulgence
Because I had to go and read this article on my Yahoo Mail Main Page.
Because they survived, I will continue with my plans, and would even do so if they didn't, but it does open the door for ghosts of Worst-Case Scenario Man to whisper sweet dreadings in my ear.
I leave tomorrow morning at 6 AM. If for some reason my plane does not take me home safely, and I never walk soil again, I'll tell you right now, it will suck and it'll have been the worst way imaginable for me to go out (which is why I can't watch the phenomena of the TV show LOST, what with all that effing flashback to their plane crash) but on Monday night, with it having been all over with and it only existing anymore as just news articles and film footage and impassionate news reporters' words as they move on to their next topics, like the pulling of a bad tooth, I will thereforth be experiencing relief. Mourn me, curse the world for it's unfairness, pour one out on the ground for the departed, but believe me when I tell you--this last month of my life has had me living my dreams and I'm quite okay with it coming to an end on a high note.
And with me being dead, I now have all my questions answered. Was I gay? Is God real? Did He love me? Did He take me to Heaven? Was there a Hell?
And all my challenges are over. Would I ever find love? Would I learn to manage my finances to assume the life of an independent adult? Would I ever have made a child? No longer an issue. No longer a problem.
So, I leave you to your own coping mechanisms. As for me, I appreciated every one of you. You enhanced my life. You made a difference on Planet Earth, if only for the life of One.
But I still hope I'm around to blog on Tuesday because I've got some AWESOME pictures to share!!!! :smile:
Because they survived, I will continue with my plans, and would even do so if they didn't, but it does open the door for ghosts of Worst-Case Scenario Man to whisper sweet dreadings in my ear.
I leave tomorrow morning at 6 AM. If for some reason my plane does not take me home safely, and I never walk soil again, I'll tell you right now, it will suck and it'll have been the worst way imaginable for me to go out (which is why I can't watch the phenomena of the TV show LOST, what with all that effing flashback to their plane crash) but on Monday night, with it having been all over with and it only existing anymore as just news articles and film footage and impassionate news reporters' words as they move on to their next topics, like the pulling of a bad tooth, I will thereforth be experiencing relief. Mourn me, curse the world for it's unfairness, pour one out on the ground for the departed, but believe me when I tell you--this last month of my life has had me living my dreams and I'm quite okay with it coming to an end on a high note.
And with me being dead, I now have all my questions answered. Was I gay? Is God real? Did He love me? Did He take me to Heaven? Was there a Hell?
And all my challenges are over. Would I ever find love? Would I learn to manage my finances to assume the life of an independent adult? Would I ever have made a child? No longer an issue. No longer a problem.
So, I leave you to your own coping mechanisms. As for me, I appreciated every one of you. You enhanced my life. You made a difference on Planet Earth, if only for the life of One.
But I still hope I'm around to blog on Tuesday because I've got some AWESOME pictures to share!!!! :smile:
Thursday, July 24, 2008
In Cali!!!!!!!
My flight landed successfully. Twice. (Once in Texas and once here in California).
So I hereby declare my next four and a half days as Drama Free Days.
I'm going to party like a Geek Rockstar.
I will have pictures.
And I will put the Church Drama Resolution Heartbreaker Extravaganzafest on hold.
I encourage you dear ones to do the same. :-)
So I hereby declare my next four and a half days as Drama Free Days.
I'm going to party like a Geek Rockstar.
I will have pictures.
And I will put the Church Drama Resolution Heartbreaker Extravaganzafest on hold.
I encourage you dear ones to do the same. :-)
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Happy
I was at Geek Central and just wanted to post some fond Convention highlights which reminded me that I was happy;
The guy to the left is that guy I posted about a few months ago who conversated with me over pizza during the NY Con geek get together and I wasn't on meds yet and didn't go to the bar afterwards, but then again neither did he. But later he turned up on a podcast I like and shouted me out. One hell of a nice guy. And cute too, right? :p He drove to the con from here in NY like I did, and circulated, meeting people, shaking hands, hanging out. And it's funny, I had my group who I hung out with, and he did too, but he would find his way to us and he and I had great conversations. I complimented him on the way he made friends and he said that it was not as easy as it looks. Then I noticed his fingernails--every one of them nibbled away to the quick. Isn't that something? Everyone's experience is different, I guess. Big props to him that he faces his fears and plows through to happiness. and again, you can't ignore the cute!
The guy in the Hulk shirt is the maker (1/2) of the Charlie Brown vid. Check out MY guns, Gyuss! And mah sexy bellah!!
And here is the face I make when I ... have fun. LOL!
The guy to the left is that guy I posted about a few months ago who conversated with me over pizza during the NY Con geek get together and I wasn't on meds yet and didn't go to the bar afterwards, but then again neither did he. But later he turned up on a podcast I like and shouted me out. One hell of a nice guy. And cute too, right? :p He drove to the con from here in NY like I did, and circulated, meeting people, shaking hands, hanging out. And it's funny, I had my group who I hung out with, and he did too, but he would find his way to us and he and I had great conversations. I complimented him on the way he made friends and he said that it was not as easy as it looks. Then I noticed his fingernails--every one of them nibbled away to the quick. Isn't that something? Everyone's experience is different, I guess. Big props to him that he faces his fears and plows through to happiness. and again, you can't ignore the cute!The guy in the Hulk shirt is the maker (1/2) of the Charlie Brown vid. Check out MY guns, Gyuss! And mah sexy bellah!!And here is the face I make when I ... have fun. LOL!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Post-Vacation Blues
The bad news is that I forgot my camera for the trip.
The good news is that everyone else remembered theirs and are geeks, so they are posted at Geek Central. Warning, in them you will see a very happy, very social Alan. More on that later. Also in the pics is one of that guy I met back at the New York geek gathering, when he and I both declined going to the bar, and I thought I missed my chance for friendship with him, but he shouted me out on a podcast later on.
None of them know about this blog, so they don't know what was swimming around in my head during my trip, which was mostly "Oh my God. How glad am I that I'm on these meds?"
The meds have honestly, actually made a change in the quality of my life. Things that I wanted to do, I did. There were comic creators that I walked up to and started conversations with. People that I promised online to come check out--I actually went and checked them out. In comic book panels (auditorium rooms where the comic creators address the audience) at question-asking time, I actually asked a question. And when it came to meeting my geek friends whom I only knew from typed words at Geek Central -- I got my hug from every one of them.
The first guy I met was the creator of the Hey Ya, Charlie Brown vid (STILL located at the bottom of this page). Normally, I'd be shaking, afraid to death. But not this time (Dawn, it really WAS Worst Case Scenario Man's corpse you discovered!!) When my geek buddy crossed the street, towering over me, I said "Give me my hug!" (for I had warned them that they would have to do so ahead of time.) From that point on, it was golden. All weekend.
When you follow the link to the thread that has the pics of the weekend, you'll also find that my fellow geeks had the same experience. They felt the miles dissolve and love took their place. These guys say things in the thread that I dare to say, such as, "I love you, man." This was one of the reasons I listened to their podcast. They're married geeks (yeah, these blokes are not yer father's geeks) and they aren't afraid to show emotion for one another. They say what's on their minds, and show love for whoever they want to show love to. And you'll find a lot of them shared their love for me, and described me in ways that I want to be described. That was because I was who I wanted to be this weekend. I was social, and honest, and happy, and not afraid.
And they showed me such love. And I showed it right back! And it was glorious! These guys are my brothers. They took me in, just like you guys do. Miles and miles between us all, but the love is strong and right here in our hearts. It's a beautiful thing.
And of course, I'm aching for more of it.
So here is a treat for you all. Being geeks, one of the brethren made a video. Like to see it, here it go!!
The good news is that everyone else remembered theirs and are geeks, so they are posted at Geek Central. Warning, in them you will see a very happy, very social Alan. More on that later. Also in the pics is one of that guy I met back at the New York geek gathering, when he and I both declined going to the bar, and I thought I missed my chance for friendship with him, but he shouted me out on a podcast later on.
None of them know about this blog, so they don't know what was swimming around in my head during my trip, which was mostly "Oh my God. How glad am I that I'm on these meds?"
The meds have honestly, actually made a change in the quality of my life. Things that I wanted to do, I did. There were comic creators that I walked up to and started conversations with. People that I promised online to come check out--I actually went and checked them out. In comic book panels (auditorium rooms where the comic creators address the audience) at question-asking time, I actually asked a question. And when it came to meeting my geek friends whom I only knew from typed words at Geek Central -- I got my hug from every one of them.
The first guy I met was the creator of the Hey Ya, Charlie Brown vid (STILL located at the bottom of this page). Normally, I'd be shaking, afraid to death. But not this time (Dawn, it really WAS Worst Case Scenario Man's corpse you discovered!!) When my geek buddy crossed the street, towering over me, I said "Give me my hug!" (for I had warned them that they would have to do so ahead of time.) From that point on, it was golden. All weekend.
When you follow the link to the thread that has the pics of the weekend, you'll also find that my fellow geeks had the same experience. They felt the miles dissolve and love took their place. These guys say things in the thread that I dare to say, such as, "I love you, man." This was one of the reasons I listened to their podcast. They're married geeks (yeah, these blokes are not yer father's geeks) and they aren't afraid to show emotion for one another. They say what's on their minds, and show love for whoever they want to show love to. And you'll find a lot of them shared their love for me, and described me in ways that I want to be described. That was because I was who I wanted to be this weekend. I was social, and honest, and happy, and not afraid.
And they showed me such love. And I showed it right back! And it was glorious! These guys are my brothers. They took me in, just like you guys do. Miles and miles between us all, but the love is strong and right here in our hearts. It's a beautiful thing.
And of course, I'm aching for more of it.
So here is a treat for you all. Being geeks, one of the brethren made a video. Like to see it, here it go!!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Pre-Vacation Blues
If one more of my day job clients has a problem, I'm sure I'm going to go postal.
JOKING.
But I'm so ready to get in my car and drive south that I can taste the Waffle House grits & sausage already.
It's been crazy this last week--literally, given my profession. Daytime clients punching staff in the nose and nighttime clients nearly losing their life and vitality to drugs and alcohol. And get this, I opened up one workday to taking clients at the NY center, and within a week, it filled up to having SEVEN of them. That's SEVEN in ONE DAY in addition to the TWO PER NIGHT Mon-Thurs. It's really making me think that I could let go of the dayjob and do therapy at the center full-time.
That would actually be my dream come true. Work in New York, live in New York, and get rid of my car, car insurance, car payments, and the need to find parking constantly. Plus it would pay me a nice amonut of money, and I wouldn't have to work more than 30 hours a week.
The only drawbacks is no insurance benefits (unless I find a carrier) and I have to pay my own taxes, plus the flow of clients are not guaranteed. Somehow, I think those things are surmountable.
Let me just go on my vacations (this weekend and next month) and take a few breaths before I consider this again, because right now--oh my. It sounds good.
I promise to take pics. :-)
JOKING.
But I'm so ready to get in my car and drive south that I can taste the Waffle House grits & sausage already.
It's been crazy this last week--literally, given my profession. Daytime clients punching staff in the nose and nighttime clients nearly losing their life and vitality to drugs and alcohol. And get this, I opened up one workday to taking clients at the NY center, and within a week, it filled up to having SEVEN of them. That's SEVEN in ONE DAY in addition to the TWO PER NIGHT Mon-Thurs. It's really making me think that I could let go of the dayjob and do therapy at the center full-time.
That would actually be my dream come true. Work in New York, live in New York, and get rid of my car, car insurance, car payments, and the need to find parking constantly. Plus it would pay me a nice amonut of money, and I wouldn't have to work more than 30 hours a week.
The only drawbacks is no insurance benefits (unless I find a carrier) and I have to pay my own taxes, plus the flow of clients are not guaranteed. Somehow, I think those things are surmountable.
Let me just go on my vacations (this weekend and next month) and take a few breaths before I consider this again, because right now--oh my. It sounds good.
I promise to take pics. :-)
Friday, June 13, 2008
Vacation, June '08
For an idea as to what I'm doing to improve my mood/situation, this podcast has 4 of the 5 main guys I'm going to be hanging out with down at the comics convention next weekend. I'll be staying in a hotel room with the first two guys that you hear when you follow the link, plus one other guy (the sleepwalker that they joke about). Also, one of these guys is the one I told you about who did the "Hey Ya, Charlie Brown" video. Within the first 10 minutes you get the idea of who they are, and you get to hear them mention me.
So you see, sometimes I'm bummed, but more often these days, I'm taking the bull by its horns and kicking it in the nuts. That's right, I said NUTS!! (Lookit me, all masculine an' vulgar! I might even drink some alcohol next week. WOO!)
And to warm it up, look what I found over at Tera's blog!!
The text from "bizarremedia" explains this stuff comes from VHS tapes made in 1995. There's a whole series of his outtakes called "Roving Reporter Etiquette." I LOVE how he switches from "sterile news reporter" to "skeeved out brotha" in 0.5! LOL! And yes, we can all do it. LOL!!!!!
And now one of a much more popular TV personality...
And our own darling Sue Simmons here in the biggest, most sophisticated city in the world;
"Party on, Garth!
Party on, Wayne!"
So you see, sometimes I'm bummed, but more often these days, I'm taking the bull by its horns and kicking it in the nuts. That's right, I said NUTS!! (Lookit me, all masculine an' vulgar! I might even drink some alcohol next week. WOO!)
And to warm it up, look what I found over at Tera's blog!!
The text from "bizarremedia" explains this stuff comes from VHS tapes made in 1995. There's a whole series of his outtakes called "Roving Reporter Etiquette." I LOVE how he switches from "sterile news reporter" to "skeeved out brotha" in 0.5! LOL! And yes, we can all do it. LOL!!!!!
And now one of a much more popular TV personality...
And our own darling Sue Simmons here in the biggest, most sophisticated city in the world;
"Party on, Garth!
Party on, Wayne!"
Friday, October 5, 2007
Cry If I Want To
Alternative side of the street parking suspended? Check.
One roommate in Timbuktu, or it's geographic equivalent (in other words, Not Here)? Check.
The other roommate departed way before I awoke? Check.
Lay in bed until I dang well felt good and ready to move? Check.
Surfed channels to watch Kella Ripa, Matthew Perry in a horrible comedy, the news, Robert DeNiro in a horrible comedy, the weather, an infomercial on how to make more money than God, the traffic, snippets of the movie "Fame", and Cher as a trashy mom trying to raise her facial/cranially deformed son? Check.
Things were going well.
Then my left eye dropped a tear, and the right eye--not to be outdone--dropped its twin with cinematic perfection.
At first I was going to title the post, Shouldn't Be Crying This Early In The AM. But then I thought, nah.
See, Rocky Dennis was getting his awards in the ceremony at his Jr. High. And his trashy Mom, along with her biker boyfriend and their crew, were on their feet, all loud, being embarrassingly encouraging for the boy with the big, bloated head. And one of the bikers, who I will call Big Sad, looked especially choked up--almost tragically so.
So afterwards, when Rocky watched the girl of his dreams go off to Summer with Blonde Hunk, and his family gathered around for a second round of rowdy congrats, Big Sad biker steps again to the forefront to lay a special one on Rocky. He's fat, he's hairy, and he's got tears in his eyes.
"I'm ... v-very ... p-proud ... of ... you ... R- ... R-Rocky."
Seems the Big Sad has a Big Speech Impediment, and physical defect was something he shared with Rocky. So he saw Rocky achieve something despite his "handicap" and Big Sad decided he would achieve something too. Tears were in Cher's eyes and they were in Sam Elliot's eyes as the scene was shot. They were in Big Sad's eyes, of course, and then they were in my eyes too.
Did I cry because I was moved by that sudden, unexpected bond between the two struggling outcast characters? Did I overidentify?
And why did the actors in the scene get choked up? Were they just commanded by the director? Or do most people know what it's like to be the Big Sad guy, watching a hero triumph and then feeling the personal victory of it because the hero represents the person inside of you. The person that you want so badly to be. Especially when that hero has flaws--it brings you that much closer because they know, like you do, what it means to struggle. And when they win, not only do you win--but everyone like you wins. Everyone who has ever known what it means to be alone and lost and hopeless and scared. Everyone who ever asked the question, "why me?"
Which, actually, is everyone.
It's all of us. Why do we hide it under layers of fashion and muscles and bravado and shallow sophistication? Why do we segregate ourselves into cliques of Better Thans? We're every one of us alone. We're all inside these skins alone.
And that makes us Not Alone At All.
Tonight I go to see My Hero. I've written my expressions of admiration and gratitude in several different ways so that he and others can read, but every time we're in earshot of one another I only usually manage to say surface "Aren't I Clever, Please Don't Hate Or Leave Me" things. Treading water to keep him in my life.
Tonight, the way Big Sad did to Rocky Dennis, I'm going to stammer out my appreciation. Even if it kills me. It just feels like something I should do.
Oh, that, and get a haircut.
Last night at B&N, I made the mistake of telling Jabberjaw that my birthday was on Monday. She asked how old I was going to be. Me, thinking I had made perfect peace with it through the last series of posts and comment responses, went ahead and told her.
"No way," said she. I watched the muscles in her face systematically fall, cord by cord. "Well," she said as she attempted to recover, "You look great!"
How did my age become equivalent to brain cancer that she thought I needed consolation? "Jabberjaw. She's mostly harmless too." My ass.
One roommate in Timbuktu, or it's geographic equivalent (in other words, Not Here)? Check.
The other roommate departed way before I awoke? Check.
Lay in bed until I dang well felt good and ready to move? Check.
Surfed channels to watch Kella Ripa, Matthew Perry in a horrible comedy, the news, Robert DeNiro in a horrible comedy, the weather, an infomercial on how to make more money than God, the traffic, snippets of the movie "Fame", and Cher as a trashy mom trying to raise her facial/cranially deformed son? Check.
Things were going well.
Then my left eye dropped a tear, and the right eye--not to be outdone--dropped its twin with cinematic perfection.
At first I was going to title the post, Shouldn't Be Crying This Early In The AM. But then I thought, nah.
See, Rocky Dennis was getting his awards in the ceremony at his Jr. High. And his trashy Mom, along with her biker boyfriend and their crew, were on their feet, all loud, being embarrassingly encouraging for the boy with the big, bloated head. And one of the bikers, who I will call Big Sad, looked especially choked up--almost tragically so.
So afterwards, when Rocky watched the girl of his dreams go off to Summer with Blonde Hunk, and his family gathered around for a second round of rowdy congrats, Big Sad biker steps again to the forefront to lay a special one on Rocky. He's fat, he's hairy, and he's got tears in his eyes.
"I'm ... v-very ... p-proud ... of ... you ... R- ... R-Rocky."
Seems the Big Sad has a Big Speech Impediment, and physical defect was something he shared with Rocky. So he saw Rocky achieve something despite his "handicap" and Big Sad decided he would achieve something too. Tears were in Cher's eyes and they were in Sam Elliot's eyes as the scene was shot. They were in Big Sad's eyes, of course, and then they were in my eyes too.
Did I cry because I was moved by that sudden, unexpected bond between the two struggling outcast characters? Did I overidentify?
And why did the actors in the scene get choked up? Were they just commanded by the director? Or do most people know what it's like to be the Big Sad guy, watching a hero triumph and then feeling the personal victory of it because the hero represents the person inside of you. The person that you want so badly to be. Especially when that hero has flaws--it brings you that much closer because they know, like you do, what it means to struggle. And when they win, not only do you win--but everyone like you wins. Everyone who has ever known what it means to be alone and lost and hopeless and scared. Everyone who ever asked the question, "why me?"
Which, actually, is everyone.
It's all of us. Why do we hide it under layers of fashion and muscles and bravado and shallow sophistication? Why do we segregate ourselves into cliques of Better Thans? We're every one of us alone. We're all inside these skins alone.
And that makes us Not Alone At All.
Tonight I go to see My Hero. I've written my expressions of admiration and gratitude in several different ways so that he and others can read, but every time we're in earshot of one another I only usually manage to say surface "Aren't I Clever, Please Don't Hate Or Leave Me" things. Treading water to keep him in my life.
Tonight, the way Big Sad did to Rocky Dennis, I'm going to stammer out my appreciation. Even if it kills me. It just feels like something I should do.
Oh, that, and get a haircut.
Last night at B&N, I made the mistake of telling Jabberjaw that my birthday was on Monday. She asked how old I was going to be. Me, thinking I had made perfect peace with it through the last series of posts and comment responses, went ahead and told her.
"No way," said she. I watched the muscles in her face systematically fall, cord by cord. "Well," she said as she attempted to recover, "You look great!"
How did my age become equivalent to brain cancer that she thought I needed consolation? "Jabberjaw. She's mostly harmless too." My ass.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
My Psychotic Break, And Other Tales
Many, many things happened over my vacation that made it a real report worthy event, and I am loathe to type it all out in prose form. Almost as though the magic would leech out of my mind if I were to type it all out.
But speaking of "out of my mind" I still will share it. Because I appreciate that there are eyes reading these words of mine at this very moment. Especially those of the Irish--(Scott, Steve, I'm sure you understand).
1. I rode on four planes and none of them crashed, even though as far as I'm concerned any one of them could have at any conceivable moment. Because I'm just saying. Six thousand pounds of steel jetting through the air thanks to the two explosive blenders nailed onto the shreddable, actually-shaking-when-there's-turbulence wings. I'm JUST saying.
2. The Star Wars Convention filled with my generation and down. Costumed, outfitted, brave community standing up in their element, ashamed of nothing and no one. I will have pictures and comment more when I post them. There were whole families of Jedi, which second to My Hero's (which is one-of-a-kind) is my favorite costume in the world. And so it makes sense that my favorite Convention event was the Jedi Academy where a curly-headed balding man and his lovely, red-headed assistant tutored kids from maybe 3 years old to probably 11 or 12, and most notably a lad in a wheelchair who appeared to have MS, in seven moves with their plastic lightsabres, and then they faced Darth Vader one by one. The Jedi Master had his hand on each of their shoulders and coached them through the moves, effectively fighting Darth like a true Jedi. Those who know me know what captured my heart and brought the tears to my eyes here; the guidance of a strong father-figure helping them each fight the battle against darkness. (That the Jedi Master had a slight Scottish brogue and enunciated like a Shakespearian didn't hurt either.)
3. Bonding more with My Friend The Doctor, and learning how to dislike him at times without hating him or wanting to flee forever away from him. Because despite all his qualities, he's got a pretty sour attitude about life. This is one of the reasons he doesn't appreciate my hero-worship. He seems to hate people. He has a bad temper and little to no patience. And here he is with a doctorate in psychology and is about to become a licensed psychologist. Yes, the stories you've heard about us are true. We're as crazy, if not moreso, than our clients. More's the miracle when we manage to actually do someone some good, which he and I have also done. So go figure.
4. Hanging out with My Hero. He let me into his life. I entered his beautiful home, I played with his dogs, and I rode in his economically friendly car. We walked and we talked and we walked and talked some more. Then we rejoined his wife and her family and I lived a new reality. One that didn't involve costumes. One where the superpowers consisted of Interesting Conversation, Appropriately Engaging Strangers, and Fitting In. I then used these powers again as he took me into the inner circle of his friends. The people in his life that did not live thousands of miles away and type their love to him through the internet. The people who "knew him when" and made fun of him as only real friends can. He brought me into his circle. He made me special because he trusted me with this secret life. In other words Jimmy Olsen got to hang out in the Fortress of Solitude while Clark hung up his cape, peeled off his boots, and had a nice cuppa joe.
5. California became solid in my mind. I will from henceforth understand most, if not all, of the vehicles in which California is the setting. I know what its' sky is now. I know what its' beaches are. Its' flat-topped, pastel-colored commercial buildings. Its' towering palm trees. The smog that makes every morning a day threatened with drizzle until it burns off near to noon. Its' internally lit street signs. Its' poverty. Its' immigrant population. Its' economic disparity. Its' breezy golden air. I understand it now and I like it.
6. I had a brush with real schizophrenia. I woke up one night with my palms afire. There were no real flames, and I didn't actually see any, but they burned. Like there were a billion bugs crawling over them, they burned. I rubbed my hands together so hard I thought they would combust. That scratched the itch viscerally, causing my heart to pound and my breath to ooze up from my lungs like the wax in a lava lamp. And then the itching would come back again, worst. I woke up MFTD with this and had to turn on the light. I enlisted his help by asking him to get on the computer and find out why it might be happening, all the while realizing that I already thought I knew why. It was all over. I had finally lost my mind. There was very apparently nothing on my hands, but they would not stop itching. I gripped handtowels and wrung them, pacing back and forth like Lady MacBeth cursing at her "damned spot." The coarse terrycloth scoured my flesh until the skin peeled. Meanwhile, I'm verbally diarrhetic with freeform prose, tracing my psychotic break back to my mother who was mentally ill. MFTD is trying to field my questions and reassure me that I'm not going crazy, but the more I think about it, the more my palms itch. Finally he calmed me enough to read his internet findings. I'm having an allergic reaction to something. Was it the shellfish I ate earlier that day at Rendondo Beach? Or was it the sand I scooped in my palms as I knelt under a hazy Pacific Coast sky? Or maybe my sheets were infested with the infamous bedbugs we've all heard about. Whatever it was, listening to the reassurances of MFTD calmed me down long enough for him to take me to the Rite Aid on Wilshire Blvd. at 2:00am for Benadryl. By the time we returned to the hotel, the pill was swallowed and the itching stopped. I put myself back to the same possibly lice-ridden bed, exhausted and embarassed. In the morning, I woke up bespotted in a rash. Whichever the cause, I was relieved to see it was indeed physical and not mental. As much. Benadryl is now my new best friend. The itching is gone and the rash is faded to just a stipling up my forearms. And I don't cough as much as I used to, as an added bonus. Well, in fact, I don't cough at all anymore--as long as I'm on the Benadryl.
But now I know what it feels like to have a psychotic break. And I'm glad I'm in the business of helping the others who suffer from it. If for no other reason, I want to stay alive for them, if not myself.
7. I reconnected with my friend who moved out to the coast last year. By accident. He was lost at the convention and walked right by me as I sat on a chair feeling vaguely lonely. At that point MFTD was on a distant line in a galaxy far, far away getting autographs, and My Hero hadn't been available yet to meet me. I had been wondering if he ever really would (and I should've trusted him, but because sometimes disappointments happen, especially in This Redeemable Life of mine, I was gearing myself for it) and so I called Grim Reaper while sitting and watching people, but he wasn't home so I had to leave a message, and just as I closed my phone, this friend walks by me. I cried out his name and scooped him up in a huge embrace. (He is smaller than me). Coincidence? I think not. He at first could not believe it was me. Then he was mad it was me. Because I hadn't told him I'd be there. And I hadn't communicated with him much since his move. And out of the group of us (Grim Jester and my other D&D buddies) he and I hung out before when he lived in New York City. But when he left to pursue and achieve his dreams, I guess my jealousy made me leave him to it. He and Grim Jester kept conversation, but he was out of my sight, and so, out of my mind. We've made up now. I met his California friends and then we had dinner and pie the next night on a very Greenwich Village-type street in Northern LA.
8. On the plane ride home, I made Ali Larter smile as she boarded with us. YUP. Ali Larter, who played Nikki/Jessica on Heroes, the best show on television, was a passenger on our plane. And not in first class either. And that made two stars from the TV show that I've made smile. Both blonde. Both pretty. And before our plane took off, I called My Hero to let him know that I had gotten home safe the night before and that Ali Larter, a "Hero," was on my plane--and that I appreciated him more than I could actually, literally (and so didn't) say for the time he had spent with me. But he was the grateful one, he said, that I drove out to meet him since he had so much to do and couldn't really afford to spend travel time to hang out with me like I wanted. And I was just senseless with misunderstanding. He was grateful that I went to see him? HE was grateful?? And then he called me again today to make sure I was back in New Jersey safely. And I finally felt the wall come down. See #4 above.
So that's all right then.
9. My manuscript was waiting for me, returned unread, from the publisher. Seems they changed the policy I found on the internet. Either that or the nice secretary who I though had my back gave it to the wrong imprint. I thought I was submitting it to Patrick Nielsen-Hayden at TOR books, but the rejection form letter came from St. Martin's Press. So either that or Patrick found it so beneath contempt that he just slapped a generic "we don't read unagented materials" letter in my SASE. Even though his wife was nice enough to stop by my blog back in the day. So I guess I'd better start sending the manuscript to agents now instead of publishers. At least I have more "published work" under my belt now as I approach these landsharks.
So anyway I'm back. Let's talk!
But speaking of "out of my mind" I still will share it. Because I appreciate that there are eyes reading these words of mine at this very moment. Especially those of the Irish--(Scott, Steve, I'm sure you understand).
1. I rode on four planes and none of them crashed, even though as far as I'm concerned any one of them could have at any conceivable moment. Because I'm just saying. Six thousand pounds of steel jetting through the air thanks to the two explosive blenders nailed onto the shreddable, actually-shaking-when-there's-turbulence wings. I'm JUST saying.
2. The Star Wars Convention filled with my generation and down. Costumed, outfitted, brave community standing up in their element, ashamed of nothing and no one. I will have pictures and comment more when I post them. There were whole families of Jedi, which second to My Hero's (which is one-of-a-kind) is my favorite costume in the world. And so it makes sense that my favorite Convention event was the Jedi Academy where a curly-headed balding man and his lovely, red-headed assistant tutored kids from maybe 3 years old to probably 11 or 12, and most notably a lad in a wheelchair who appeared to have MS, in seven moves with their plastic lightsabres, and then they faced Darth Vader one by one. The Jedi Master had his hand on each of their shoulders and coached them through the moves, effectively fighting Darth like a true Jedi. Those who know me know what captured my heart and brought the tears to my eyes here; the guidance of a strong father-figure helping them each fight the battle against darkness. (That the Jedi Master had a slight Scottish brogue and enunciated like a Shakespearian didn't hurt either.)
3. Bonding more with My Friend The Doctor, and learning how to dislike him at times without hating him or wanting to flee forever away from him. Because despite all his qualities, he's got a pretty sour attitude about life. This is one of the reasons he doesn't appreciate my hero-worship. He seems to hate people. He has a bad temper and little to no patience. And here he is with a doctorate in psychology and is about to become a licensed psychologist. Yes, the stories you've heard about us are true. We're as crazy, if not moreso, than our clients. More's the miracle when we manage to actually do someone some good, which he and I have also done. So go figure.
4. Hanging out with My Hero. He let me into his life. I entered his beautiful home, I played with his dogs, and I rode in his economically friendly car. We walked and we talked and we walked and talked some more. Then we rejoined his wife and her family and I lived a new reality. One that didn't involve costumes. One where the superpowers consisted of Interesting Conversation, Appropriately Engaging Strangers, and Fitting In. I then used these powers again as he took me into the inner circle of his friends. The people in his life that did not live thousands of miles away and type their love to him through the internet. The people who "knew him when" and made fun of him as only real friends can. He brought me into his circle. He made me special because he trusted me with this secret life. In other words Jimmy Olsen got to hang out in the Fortress of Solitude while Clark hung up his cape, peeled off his boots, and had a nice cuppa joe.
5. California became solid in my mind. I will from henceforth understand most, if not all, of the vehicles in which California is the setting. I know what its' sky is now. I know what its' beaches are. Its' flat-topped, pastel-colored commercial buildings. Its' towering palm trees. The smog that makes every morning a day threatened with drizzle until it burns off near to noon. Its' internally lit street signs. Its' poverty. Its' immigrant population. Its' economic disparity. Its' breezy golden air. I understand it now and I like it.
6. I had a brush with real schizophrenia. I woke up one night with my palms afire. There were no real flames, and I didn't actually see any, but they burned. Like there were a billion bugs crawling over them, they burned. I rubbed my hands together so hard I thought they would combust. That scratched the itch viscerally, causing my heart to pound and my breath to ooze up from my lungs like the wax in a lava lamp. And then the itching would come back again, worst. I woke up MFTD with this and had to turn on the light. I enlisted his help by asking him to get on the computer and find out why it might be happening, all the while realizing that I already thought I knew why. It was all over. I had finally lost my mind. There was very apparently nothing on my hands, but they would not stop itching. I gripped handtowels and wrung them, pacing back and forth like Lady MacBeth cursing at her "damned spot." The coarse terrycloth scoured my flesh until the skin peeled. Meanwhile, I'm verbally diarrhetic with freeform prose, tracing my psychotic break back to my mother who was mentally ill. MFTD is trying to field my questions and reassure me that I'm not going crazy, but the more I think about it, the more my palms itch. Finally he calmed me enough to read his internet findings. I'm having an allergic reaction to something. Was it the shellfish I ate earlier that day at Rendondo Beach? Or was it the sand I scooped in my palms as I knelt under a hazy Pacific Coast sky? Or maybe my sheets were infested with the infamous bedbugs we've all heard about. Whatever it was, listening to the reassurances of MFTD calmed me down long enough for him to take me to the Rite Aid on Wilshire Blvd. at 2:00am for Benadryl. By the time we returned to the hotel, the pill was swallowed and the itching stopped. I put myself back to the same possibly lice-ridden bed, exhausted and embarassed. In the morning, I woke up bespotted in a rash. Whichever the cause, I was relieved to see it was indeed physical and not mental. As much. Benadryl is now my new best friend. The itching is gone and the rash is faded to just a stipling up my forearms. And I don't cough as much as I used to, as an added bonus. Well, in fact, I don't cough at all anymore--as long as I'm on the Benadryl.
But now I know what it feels like to have a psychotic break. And I'm glad I'm in the business of helping the others who suffer from it. If for no other reason, I want to stay alive for them, if not myself.
7. I reconnected with my friend who moved out to the coast last year. By accident. He was lost at the convention and walked right by me as I sat on a chair feeling vaguely lonely. At that point MFTD was on a distant line in a galaxy far, far away getting autographs, and My Hero hadn't been available yet to meet me. I had been wondering if he ever really would (and I should've trusted him, but because sometimes disappointments happen, especially in This Redeemable Life of mine, I was gearing myself for it) and so I called Grim Reaper while sitting and watching people, but he wasn't home so I had to leave a message, and just as I closed my phone, this friend walks by me. I cried out his name and scooped him up in a huge embrace. (He is smaller than me). Coincidence? I think not. He at first could not believe it was me. Then he was mad it was me. Because I hadn't told him I'd be there. And I hadn't communicated with him much since his move. And out of the group of us (Grim Jester and my other D&D buddies) he and I hung out before when he lived in New York City. But when he left to pursue and achieve his dreams, I guess my jealousy made me leave him to it. He and Grim Jester kept conversation, but he was out of my sight, and so, out of my mind. We've made up now. I met his California friends and then we had dinner and pie the next night on a very Greenwich Village-type street in Northern LA.
8. On the plane ride home, I made Ali Larter smile as she boarded with us. YUP. Ali Larter, who played Nikki/Jessica on Heroes, the best show on television, was a passenger on our plane. And not in first class either. And that made two stars from the TV show that I've made smile. Both blonde. Both pretty. And before our plane took off, I called My Hero to let him know that I had gotten home safe the night before and that Ali Larter, a "Hero," was on my plane--and that I appreciated him more than I could actually, literally (and so didn't) say for the time he had spent with me. But he was the grateful one, he said, that I drove out to meet him since he had so much to do and couldn't really afford to spend travel time to hang out with me like I wanted. And I was just senseless with misunderstanding. He was grateful that I went to see him? HE was grateful?? And then he called me again today to make sure I was back in New Jersey safely. And I finally felt the wall come down. See #4 above.
So that's all right then.
9. My manuscript was waiting for me, returned unread, from the publisher. Seems they changed the policy I found on the internet. Either that or the nice secretary who I though had my back gave it to the wrong imprint. I thought I was submitting it to Patrick Nielsen-Hayden at TOR books, but the rejection form letter came from St. Martin's Press. So either that or Patrick found it so beneath contempt that he just slapped a generic "we don't read unagented materials" letter in my SASE. Even though his wife was nice enough to stop by my blog back in the day. So I guess I'd better start sending the manuscript to agents now instead of publishers. At least I have more "published work" under my belt now as I approach these landsharks.
So anyway I'm back. Let's talk!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Just In Case
Tomorrow, I'm getting on a plane and heading to California. My Friend The Doctor is sponsoring my part of the trip because he wanted to go here, but not alone. Originally I was to pony up my slice of the trip in cash, which would have gone towards what I owe him in the overall scheme of all the money I already owe him. This was how he enticed me to go. But then I had the car accident and I had to pony my money to the dealership. But he still wanted me to go. So I'm going on his dime, and what I'm supposed to give himfor money is beyond me. Payday is tomorrow, but so is my second payment for the car. And my school loan payment. Which leaves a few hundred for food for the next two weeks, plus scrimpy savings.
That financial aspect is 1 out of 3 things that are in the way of full enjoyment of this vacation.
#2 is that My Hero seems busy at the moment.
Of course I lobbied for face time with My Hero. He lives about an hour from L.A. So I'm more excited about that part of the trip than what MFTD wants to go for.
But My Hero is juggling a lot of things, and I'm ready to make any excuse for a reason that he might cancel out on me. Ultimately, I know he wouldn't want to be unavailable when he said he would see me, so he'd squeeze me in somehow, but that only seems to illustrate how sad it is that I need his company so much. The Jimmy Olsen Syndrome.
In fact, I'm not sure if anyone, anywhere, needs me as much as I've come to need them.
#3 is that I have to fly on planes to get to California. I hate planes. And we have to fly two of them there, and two of them back. Now here's what Worst-Case Scenario Man says, "Isn't it about due for a plane to crash in the US?"
Nice, right? This guy lives inside my head and it's not pretty.
So, this is my schedule;
Flight: NW 0537
From: New York-La Guardia, NY
To: Detroit-Wayne County Int'l, MI
Departure Time: May 25, 9:03 am
Arrival Time: May 25, 11:09 am
Flight: NW 0327
From: Detroit-Wayne County Int'l, MI
To: Los Angeles Int'l, CA
Departure Time: May 25, 12:05 pm
Arrival Time: May 25, 1:57 pm
Flight: NW 0770
From: Los Angeles Int'l, CA
To: Indianapolis-Int'l, IN
Departure Time: May 30, 9:45 am
Arrival Time: May 30, 4:49 pm
Flight: NW 4779
From: Indianapolis-Int'l, IN
To: New York-La Guardia, NY
Departure Time: May 30, 6:25 pm
Arrival Time: May 30, 8:36 pm
If any planes crash within this time frame, and it was one of these, then really, listen--it was for the best. If I went down and died, it's because I wasn't really going to win all these battles I'm fighting. And I would rather die now than linger in loneliness and misery and confusion and depression for another twenty years.
I go to see my shrink today, by the way. She cancelled on Tuesday so I'm seeing her today. Maybe later I'll feel "better" about death. (Which translates into not wanting the plane to go down in flames, and so will want you to be outraged for me and will also want you to carry my memory and the meager imprint I may have left on the world).
Do I have anything to uplift you with as I sign off for now? Well, I still think you all are pretty wonderful. Thanks for caring enough to read these words of mine.
See you when I see you!
That financial aspect is 1 out of 3 things that are in the way of full enjoyment of this vacation.
#2 is that My Hero seems busy at the moment.
Of course I lobbied for face time with My Hero. He lives about an hour from L.A. So I'm more excited about that part of the trip than what MFTD wants to go for.
But My Hero is juggling a lot of things, and I'm ready to make any excuse for a reason that he might cancel out on me. Ultimately, I know he wouldn't want to be unavailable when he said he would see me, so he'd squeeze me in somehow, but that only seems to illustrate how sad it is that I need his company so much. The Jimmy Olsen Syndrome.
In fact, I'm not sure if anyone, anywhere, needs me as much as I've come to need them.
#3 is that I have to fly on planes to get to California. I hate planes. And we have to fly two of them there, and two of them back. Now here's what Worst-Case Scenario Man says, "Isn't it about due for a plane to crash in the US?"
Nice, right? This guy lives inside my head and it's not pretty.
So, this is my schedule;
Flight: NW 0537
From: New York-La Guardia, NY
To: Detroit-Wayne County Int'l, MI
Departure Time: May 25, 9:03 am
Arrival Time: May 25, 11:09 am
Flight: NW 0327
From: Detroit-Wayne County Int'l, MI
To: Los Angeles Int'l, CA
Departure Time: May 25, 12:05 pm
Arrival Time: May 25, 1:57 pm
Flight: NW 0770
From: Los Angeles Int'l, CA
To: Indianapolis-Int'l, IN
Departure Time: May 30, 9:45 am
Arrival Time: May 30, 4:49 pm
Flight: NW 4779
From: Indianapolis-Int'l, IN
To: New York-La Guardia, NY
Departure Time: May 30, 6:25 pm
Arrival Time: May 30, 8:36 pm
If any planes crash within this time frame, and it was one of these, then really, listen--it was for the best. If I went down and died, it's because I wasn't really going to win all these battles I'm fighting. And I would rather die now than linger in loneliness and misery and confusion and depression for another twenty years.
I go to see my shrink today, by the way. She cancelled on Tuesday so I'm seeing her today. Maybe later I'll feel "better" about death. (Which translates into not wanting the plane to go down in flames, and so will want you to be outraged for me and will also want you to carry my memory and the meager imprint I may have left on the world).
Do I have anything to uplift you with as I sign off for now? Well, I still think you all are pretty wonderful. Thanks for caring enough to read these words of mine.
See you when I see you!
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