Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Because Shit Happens

cause shit happens

Cause shit happens.

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And the Burglars Were

and the burglars were foiled

And the burglars were foiled.

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This Is the Fix?

and thats the fix

This is the fix?

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cutting apple

I wish I was a food designer. I’m sure they’re out there. People paid to come up with flavors of things like chips, jelly beans and protein bars.

I think a girl named Twig makes all the protein bar flavors. They all in come in some kind of animal feed flavor – oats, wheat, or rice (crispy’s) and sugar.

Sure these things are good for a day or two and then they begin to wear on me. Fruit and grain, fruit and grain, day after day. Sure they throw in a few nuts every now and then, but it’s the same basic taste.

With my flavors I could open a Protein Bar Bar. So this is me ordering in my Protein Bar Bar.

“I’ll have the Chicken Fried Steak and Gravy Protein Bar, a side of Shrimp Fried Rice Protein Bar and a Margarita Protein Bar. Oh what the heck give me two Margarita Protein Bars. I’m not driving tonight.”

The waiter would chuckle and say, “Excellent choice, Madam.”

My sister would say, “Do you have the Lobster Dipped in Butter Protein Bar on the kids’ menu? I’m not very hungry. Can I substitute a Martini Protein Bar for the drink?”

I would roll my eyes behind her back and the waiter would chuckle again.*

When he left I would say, “You know they have a special key on that computer that says “Spit in the Food” and he just used it on your order.”*

She’d squawk, “No they don’t,” but she would closely inspect her food.

She thinks I don’t notice, but I do.

After she devours her little, tiny meal, she’d want a bite of mine which in reality would be half my food.*

When I’m sick, I would have a Chicken Pot Pie Protein Bar and think about my Grandma.

And sometimes late at night when no one’s looking, I would have 4 or 5 Chocolate, Chocolate Truffle Ice Cream Protein Bars and maybe 2 or 3 Turtle Cheese Cake Protein Bars. The next day I would pretend I didn’t know who ate them.*

Yeah, my protein bars would be like meals at the Jetson’s.

(*This story does not in anyway reflect the things I might or might not do in reality and as for my sister who thinks your friends might see this and think it’s about you, you might want to consider why.)

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99nnbSince I started keeping a journal documenting my feelings of anxiety and depression, I’ve begun recognizing my patterns.

love paper, old books, pretty patterns, and foreign magazines. I rescue broken books and posters from the garbage heap. And then they’re all just here and I can’t do anything with them. Tonight I have the urge to rip them all apart; keep the best parts; shuffle them around; and bind them back together, making something different.

It’s this souped up hyper feeling and all I can think about is tearing these books. It’s an itch you can’t scratch. Why can’t I get some obsessive urge to do something positive? Will I spend the next three days ripping up books to find myself surrounded by piles of paper?

Already I know this feeling will be followed by a round of anxiety and then exhausted depression. That part I’m afraid of. If I knew I would wind up with something; a great novel, a painting, or some break through research, I would plunge ahead, depression be damned.

Maybe just tonight under the cover of darkness I’ll free some pages from their old bindings. I’ll take my medicine and in the morning I’ll try to redirect myself in a positive direction.

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Shapeless lumps of teeth and flesh surround me, clawing and biting at my arms. Their talons are careful not to tear the green, Grecian gown I wear. Together we rise slowly from the pit.

A great flash of light.

I drop to a crouch, hugging my knees to my chest. The creatures ignite falling in columns of ash around me.

I wake to blazing lights cutting across the sky, punctuated by a barrage of thunder. The storm rages outside and I am sweat drenched in bed.

My sister asked if I was really depressed.

I started to explain and ended with a weak, yes. It’s like trying to explain clouds to the blind. They can’t understand. It’s not their fault. They wouldn’t know this side of me.

If I could paint the images in my head. The cavernous hall, filled with sights and words I cannot banish. I try to chase the ravens from my sills, but they return wanting more.

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Status on Ex

My ex collapsed recently. Just an update on his status. His fever is down to 99. His OT states are over 90. (They were 80.) His heart rate has come down, but is still beating to fast. His eyes are now tracking when people are speaking.

Not much, but still it is in the positive direction. Thanks to everyone for your support.


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