It's official. Ive moved

Here is my new place . Im still unpacking and rearranging stuff but come see me!

Confidential to Ash: I am not dead but don't tell anyone!

No I kid. I kid because I care. I don't blog because I suck. I will blog soon. In fact, mostly due to Ash's sweet message, I decided I needed to move blogs. Because it is a pain in the ass to log out of gmail every time I want to blog. (It is also a pain in the ass to have a two year old slam down the laptop lid every time i want to blog but I figured Id start with something easy to change). So I have a new blog. It is called The Crseum once again allowing me to feature my complete lack of creativity when inventing a blog name. But at least it's a place now and not a pseudonym that I can't really explain to anyone and is never addressed in my actual blog. So please come visit me there. I feel good about this people. A new age is dawning..... and as Trelvix said, spring is so close!

Signs of personality deterioration or "you might be watching too much c-span if...."

I want to blame the illness but in my darkest heart, I fear and know the illness is only a mask. I think if I had more free time and television control, this could easily become my life. It's too late for me friends, but to make sure this doesn't happen to any of you, here are warning signs to look for:

- You are bummed on the weekends because you know the congress segments are all reruns.
- You watch the segments anyway in case they are showing different parts you might have missed.
- You become giddy when you see they are re-showing an oversights committee hearing involving Roger Clemens testimony on steroids.
- You plan your day around the hearing.
- You find yourself holding your bladder until the fifteen minute break so you won't have to miss anything.
- While trying to rest and listen, you are playing your own personal guessing game of trying to figure out the political leanings of each representative based on their line of questioning.
- You have stats for the game.
- You won't be able to play much longer because you are starting recognize reps by their voices without even looking at the screen.
- You become enraged with other reps and shout insults at the screen between fits of coughing. (you subsequently get an unpleasant glimpse about what being old is going to look like for you)
- You find yourself repeatedly fantasizing about how, if an oversights committee ever got shitty with you during whatever hearing you might be subpoenaed to, you would suck up all their allotted time being argumentative and chastising them for rudeness.
- You realize that maybe just maybe, your crush on Russ Feingold isn't...well...normal.


On the positive side, Ive made my decision for the primary. More later....right now I have to get back to catch Vladimir Putin....

Why I can't win friends and influence people

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random slashes of my thursday morning

- The first is simply a corollary to my post from Tuesday. We will call it texts I never wanted to receive. "You have to get here soon. {Client x} just told me she thinks she is gay and that she and {her best friend} are in love".
- When you are in mental health, you HAVE to keep your beliefs out of your work. For example, you may want to offer a congratulatory hug and words of how happy you are for your teen-aged client when she expresses her sexual identity as mentioned above. However, the fact that she was raised in a conservative religion and that she is completely emotionally dependent upon, yet barely tolerated by her family of origin even now causes a professional to reflect upon the grave professional responsibility (e.g. exactly how many ways bad therapy could fuck up her life right now) in handling this issue appropriately.
- I am sad that I still live in a world where it is not yet safe for a teen-aged girl to explore her sexual identity (and I mean this in terms of emotional soul searching and expressing her thoughts freely, as opposed to explore in the "my license says yes but my daddy says no" way).
- We have a Big Meeting today. I am skeert. I cannot sleep. I dreamt last night that I was homeless and sleeping in fields that had cow-poop everywhere. Apparently, Gill had left me and was trying to get custody of the kids so he could raise them with the help of my mother (who made one of her many inspiring cameos in the dream) and the cow-poop field sleeping was really detracting from my position. I did have a nice stable-like things for the kids to sleep in and I thought it might strengthen my case.
- The dream could have stemmed from the Turnip pooping on the living room carpet last night and the subsequent argument that ensued immediately afterwards. (Yes our carpet is getting quite the work-out this week). I have to say though folks, even retrospectly, I still firmly hold my position that when there is a naked baby in front of you and a pile of baby-shit on your carpet, blame-placing is petty and futile.
- The nails are rapidly deteriorating. I keep looking at my hands and thinking of the Agatha Christie novel "And Then There Were None".

Conversations I didn't want to have today

(directed to me)
Every sentence involving the videogame "art of persona" or anime, or anime conventions.

A vivid description of a show involving a tribe of folks who circumcise their boys at age five and force them to live apart from their mommies until the wounds heal nine weeks later.

A detailed list of all the ways a mother could die. A list so detailed that she forgot why she even brought the topic up. (needless to say, I did not remind her)

A recap of the episode of "intervention" where a lady let her two year old play with a pack of crystal meth.

(coming from me)

A weak and sad explanation as to why I tear you from your crib as you sleep, force you to ride "stuck" for twenty minutes and then leave you at the sitters.

A weak and defeated explanation as to why it takes more energy to scream that you are too tired to make nachos than it actually would take to make the nachos.

A four hour cycle of repeating the phrases "please stop stepping on me. Please don't climb on my head. Please stop irritating your brother. Please stop screaming. Please tell me what you want. Please. Please. Please."

Actually having to defend the presence of spaghetti on the living room floor which was so not fair since my position on babies and the grossness of mixing them with red sauced foods has been clearly documented for the past five years. (everyone knows babies are best mixed with cream based sauces!)

I will end with a realization I had tonight.
It finally occurred to me tonight that sometimes, when I think people are being nice, they are actually being kind of passive aggressive and mean but I don't even realize the shittiness of the act until years later. Which is disappointing on several levels not the least of which being that for several years Ive been giving undue credit in my mind for the nicety. I realize that probably shouldn't bother me but tonight it really really does.

Every Turkey Dies But Not Every Turkey Truly Lives

I did not sleep at all last night. At all. It is 603am. I waited until 6am to get out of bed. Because of the "death hour". Last post i discussed some of the non-trivial reasons Ive been away, so let's dedicate this post to something more familiar. Things that make a crse crazy in the night. Or another installment of "what goes on in the mind of a slightly off-balance insomniac in the dead of winter"

- Ill start with "the death hour". SCAREDY CAT WARNING: IF YOU DON'T LIKE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU GO STRAIGHT TO THE NEXT SLASH. You all know I love my boss Lonnie Manko. I am not at liberty to discuss why the show "paranormal state" drew her attention (well I probably am but this am I feel mysterious) but she shared it with us one day at work a few weeks ago. Those who know me well would not for a minute, nay- for even a mili-second think that I would watch this show. (Did I ever post about the "blair crse project?" remind me friends...) Still she innocently shared a piece of alarming information with me. Apparently the hour between three am and four am is the darkest time of the night for all things spooky. I refuse to elaborate more than that. Why? because I cannot leave my room/pee in my bathroom/look at the clock/emerge from a bastardized attempt at sight and sound-proofing through blankets during this hour. As well you can imagine, this is pure insomniacal hell. I am pretty sure Lonnie M. is not happy to know this either although she is somewhat braver than me.

-"what would you do if your son was at home cryin' all alone on the bedroom floor cuz he's hungry and the only way to feed him is to sleep with a man for a little bit of money" I HAVE to remember to not start singing that around Norm. Did we handle the Jamie Lynn Spears thing correctly? Man Im so glad we got the satellite radio. It's so awesome. I need to clean my car.

-The medical cycle. This goes something like "I need to find a dentist. I wonder if I have that gum disease that eats bones away and now I won't be able to get dentures. I really don't know how I feel about my new dr. I should switch before it goes any further between us. But Moe really likes her. And she did that blood test in her office. Should I get the boys tested for lead? I hate to put them through that. I still owe co-pays on Turnip's birthing bills."

-Needless to say, this leads to The financial cycle. "I need to call the student loan people. What will I tell them. I really don't feel obligated to pay the damn mafioso dentist. Will we ever get our finances straightened out? I really need to invest in another toothbrush. Maybe I will buy the mean green machine tomorrow. We need a larger george foreman grill. We are better than this."

- I wonder if Im bi-polar. Would my therapist tell me if I was? I think Im going to ask her.

- Could I redecorate the house in a completely low impact way? Do they sell "healthy" paint at lowe's?

- I think I need to cut my losses on the lost adderall prescription. I go for a med-check next Tuesday. I am going to try to eke by on day meds, old straterra and the 60 mgs I have left. (Im saving those for this thursday. We have a special meeting.)

-Man my hands were cold today. I really want the carpal tunnel surgery but what will I do with myself if I cant play video games or write?

- I wonder why the turnip never says he loves us. Did we do something to make him so emotionally unavailable or did something happen in his past life?

- I am worried Norm is getting a kind of goth streak. He is really into the mourning aspects of death (BTW we no longer have a gerbil)

- WillyWonka WillyWonka. Man I wish Norm liked that movie.

- How the hell could I miss Rambo's birthday? I talked about it for five solid days? Why must I suck?

- (Im leaving the mind ramble format to share here for a minute folks, I didn't know how to put this in mind ramble form)Here is the thing about my hair cut. I was feeling incredibly insecure about it but lately Im feeling better about it. Why? Well you would think it was because of the millions of people that i like and trust telling me they really like it and that it looks nice. But no. It's not because of that. I'm very very ashamed to admit this but it's because an older single bloated creepy guy who Im fairly certain was arrested (although not convicted) on sex charges in the late 90s who happens to work with us (Lonnie DID NOT hire him. I feel compelled to tell people this) told me it was "cute". Now why is this significant? I will tell you why. Because he is a lewd creepy guy, if he found it to be a non-descript soccer mom cut he would have called it "nice". Calling it cute made it sound well...fashionable. And I feel ashamed of myself friends. Especially in regards to my real-time friends who have also called it "cute" and "nice" and (in a little grateful shout-out to Spike) "a lot better". It's not that I didn't believe you all but there was something to having the creepy guy accept my hair that validated me in a way that nothing else did. I don't know what that says about me but it's probably not good. Well...Im pretty sure it's not good at all.

ok I think Im going to email rambo a birthday wish and do some work now. It's kind of good to be back.