This song by Elton John (copyrighted, all rights reserved, yadayadayada...) perfectly expresses the way it feels to be me, to have AS:
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Oh, I’m a dark diamond
I’ve turned hard and cold
Once was a jewel with fire in my soul
There’s two sides of a mirror
One I couldn’t break through
Stayed trapped on the inside, wound up losing you

Tell me how does it work?
How do you make things fit
Spent all my life trying to get it right
I’ve put it together and it falls apart
I thought to myself I might understand
But when the wall's built
And the heart hardens
You get a dark diamond
Dark diamond

Oh, I’m a dark diamond
But you’re something else
You read me more than I read myself
The one star I could count on
Only comet I could trust
You burnt through my life to the true meaning of love

Tell me how does it work?
How do you make things fit
Spent all my life trying to get it right
I’ve put it together and it falls apart
I thought to myself I might understand
But when the wall's built
And the heart hardens
You get a dark diamond
Dark diamond
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That's the way it is. I'm always the stupid one, the one who makes the stupid mistakes, who doesn't hear the vital facts even thoguh I strain and search for them with all my heart (literally). The one who just doesn't get it, who doesn't understand that when a guy is sitting there smiling at you and has been talking to you for hours, you don't mean a damned thing to him, not even as a friend, even when you can talk to him about anything. Anything, except that you love him. That sad fact reduces you to a trembling, shivering bundle of nerves.

The one who doesn't get that marrying a guy is no guarantee that he won't pick up his ex-wife and bring her back again, or, that it's a possibility, at least. Who doesn't get that you're not good enough to be seen in public with him, only good enough to fuck.

The one who doesn't get that it's easier to sleep over at another gals home rather than to come home to you, his wife. After all, her place is closer to work. It is strictly platonic. Damn, why can't I get that?

Who doesn't get that a guy will lay in your arms and gripe for hours upon end about his (soon to be) ex-wife, rant and rave about her, while you listen patiently and soothe his pain, until he feels well enough to go back to her.

Who doesn't get that what a guy wants, is for a girl who likes him, to act like she doesn't. That they want to chase something, and if they don't have to chase it, it isn't worth having. That you have to be false and coy in order to be decent and worthy of a nice guy, and if you're not, you'll probably get a jerk. If he isn't usually, he'll become one, because you were 'easy'.

Who doesn't get that a guy wants a pretty head full of fluff, especially if she acts like a confident know-it-all.

Who doesn't get that there is no seal of security- not sex, or marriage, or companionship, or statements of love or devotion, or children, or the fact that he's right next to you every night- he can still grind your heart to powder at a moment's notice, and with no real provocation, except that you're there. And, it'll be your own fault. There was a misunderstanding. It was *obvious*. He thought you knew that all along. What are you talking about?!?!?! Of course not! He *told* you. He didn't need to tell you. Anyone would know. Anyone could have figured that one out. Anyone except me......Being me really sucks. There are a _lot_ of things that I don't get.

So, I decided the other day that art is really the only thing that...let me think of how to word this.....

I don't really mind working 8 hours a day, 7 days a week, except that between that and my boys, it doesn't leave much energy or time or thought or, or time left for *seeing* things, so that I can paint or draw. I don't especially begrudge the fact that I barely get by, except that it it leaves me feeling uneasy about rent and bills, etc. What I begrudge is that basically, I live for art and for thought, and there isn't really any time for it. There isn't enough time to soak in the things that I love, their scents and textures and colors and forms and sounds....it all gets drowned in the stuff I sick to death of and by the time I escape from that, I am as drained as a wrung out dishrag, with little ....:searches mind for word:...vitality? creativity? life?....left over from which to pull the art, to really *feel* the subject and to see its essence. There is no passion left, and I am so dispassionate by nature anyway, that I crave it, I long to have feeling, to be excited and enthralled by something.

Anyway, I saw an orchid (yes, the moth orchid) on sale...there were several actually, but I bought this one because it was the sexiest, most passionate looking one of the bunch, the most erotic. It is a beautiful shade of cool blue-pink, with magenta wings and tongue framing and beckoning around the flower's sex organs. I find all flowers sexy, but this is one of the more explicit ones I've seen. I'm only sitting here wishing I'd gotten the white ones with pink/magenta trim. They were more modest thoguh, virginal in a way. They would have been easier to paint- this one's color is hard to match even thoguh I bought two new tubes of watercolor specifically to paint it. I will have to work and experiment to find the precise shade it is. See, if it had been white, I might have eventually loosened up to the point where I'd interject any color I wanted into it. Ultramarine blue orchids..... But with this one, I am so in love with the color that it's hard for me to go past it.

So the plan is thus: to paint this thing, the same plant, until it wilts or the watercolor paper runs out or I have nothing at all left to say about it.

Now, there is another thing, and I hesitate to mention it. When I am satisfied and happy and contented, I don't have much desire to paint. If I am debilitated by pain to the point where I can't eat, sleep, or get out of bed, I can't paint, either. But there is a balance, and it seems that solitude is an essential ingredient. Maybe. I do know that most of the work I've been pleased with has come from times when I was really frustrated and wound up, or longing and pining.

All I've ever really wanted out of life is to be an artist and to love someone. Love is too chancy a business to invest my whole being in. So, I have to do the art, I have to make time for it, or I'll die and be nothing but a time-punching drone with a body.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually capable of having a sustained relationship. I kind of think so, under the right circumstances...and then I wonder, why all the emphasis and worry? I do reasonably well by myself. If things cannot be right, if they cannot be healthy, I would prefer to be by myself. See, I think half of why relationships go sour is due to sheer smothering... But hey, that's just my quirky point of view.

I finished not one but TWO beaded necklaces and a set of earrings last night. It's odd but I don't like most commercially available jewelry. It's never what I want. So I make my own, and then it fits me. It is mine as someone else's work can never be.

Phalaenopsis are one of the sexiest things I've ever seen. Trying to decide if they outdo their namesake. :grin:

I have a lot of bitchy things I could say tonight but I think I'll spare it for now...ah, somethign good: I didn't *lose* a single game of chess tinight at the chess club! (Did I mention that I started up a chess club in this dead little town? Yes, I did. Predictably, attendance is minimal, but so far, people DO come.)

And then, there is the comfortable lovable old shirt feeling. It's sort of the way I feel about my favorite blanket. Someone seems and feels right and comfy. This is a nice state of being, and it can be quite lasting also. It is calm and soothing like a good warm bath or shower that you want to stay in all day long. As long as the sense of security and safety is maintained and my mind is challenged and fed, I can be very, very content in this state.

For example: Relationships.

I have a few patterns

• Become infatuated with someone. I don't usally approach or tell them. It wears off in a month or so. Were the person to respond positively I would panic and feel turned off....it is just a fantasy thing, not something I intend to follow through on at ALL.
• Or, if someone gets interested in me first, again, chances are very good that I will freak out and try to establish distance.
• Getting absolutely obsessed with someone and falling for them completely, so that even their most irritating traits seem valid. This is a long term deal, usually, and can be a near fatal condition. Thankfully it doesn't happen often. I spose it's what the call love. Or perhaps not....whatever it is, it hurts a lot but also makes me very happy at times
• Clinginess: if at any time in any relationship the other person should start to act clingy I have a strong tendency to throw them off just as quickly as I would a snake writhing up my arm, to run as fast as I can and not look back. This is unfortunate....but I feel really smothered very easily.
• Most of the time I simply get tired of a person. Of course, this happens a lot faster if they get emotionally demanding or clingy at all. But, even to me, it seems a bit unreasonable, especially since I have a distinct habit of getting clingy amd attached to someone, myself. But, if I feel that the other person's feelings are more intense than I'm prepared to deal with, I back off and cool down...I can't say that I really like that side of me.....

Currently: I feel anxious. I am having a harder and harder time concealing/controlling distinctively Aspie/autistic traits. If I suppress one stim, another one surfaces, immediately. Don't get me wrong, it isn't that I *mind* the stims, for my own sake....but I often snap into an awareness that I am rocking or finger flapping and that someone is looking at me, or that the way I just said that didn't have much inflection at all...or that soemone is laughing or staring at me for an unknown reason. It's unnerving, and all I really want is to be able to be myself and be at peace with that. Goddammit, I am *SICK* of having to squelch myself all the time, of having to conform. I just don't feel like I can do it any longer.

And what really sucks is that most of the people I have broached this subject with (only a few) seem to think it is just a new phase and that I do not have it....they do not understand......they cannot see me for who I am....they have always tried to cram me into a mold of who they want me to be, aughhhh!!!!!!

Things finally make sense though. To be continued.....

Love is like a cancer of the soul. From time to time I thik that I've gone into remission and am recovering, but it always reawakens, discontent to let me heal, leaves me pale and shaking. I'm so tired of loving you.

The only good thing I can say about it is that it frees me up, in a way....because I don't have to be absolutely phobic of getting hurt. After all, noone could hurt me more than you have.... so in a way, I can kick up my heels and really enjoy myself, get close to someone without getting all neurotic and obsessive. And I think, consequently, that I actually have a better chance now, than ever before, to have a real, balanced and healthy relationship. Being phobic of rejection automatically skews the balance towards the other party, places them in a position of complete power, the power to turn you away and break your heart into a million tiny fragments at the slightest whim or ripple of irritation. I'm not sure I ever want to walk on those eggshells again. There must be a better way.....and perhaps I'm finding it.
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On other notes..... I think I want to see about getting an official confirmation (or denial) of whether or not I have Asperger's. My entire life, I've wondered what was wrong with other people, _or_ what was wrong with me, because something has sure as heck been out of sync, and I'm pretty sure it's me. That doesn't necessarily mean I'm defective...I think that no matter what, the world's always going to seem a little fucked up to me. I just do not comprehend the way people operate, why they insist on all sorts of social niceties that are essentially dishonest. I don't understand their motivations, their nastiness, or, for thast matter, their insincere friendliness. I realize that I'm weird, but it would be nice to have some closure on the subject and a categorzied set to my weirdness, a way to say, "well, this is why X never made sense to me" and "This is why I find Y intolerable".

Also, it's gotten to the point where I'm having panic attacks on almost a daily basis. I'm not sure if it's overload from too many people, too much stress or sensory input, or what....but I'm kind of hoping that there's a reasonable answer that can be dealt with and settled.

I am depressed.... My life seems pointless......

I am working seven days a week and still not able to realize any of the goals I had set. There isn't time. There isn't money. What exactly is the point of slaving away if all you can do is maintain survival?

My life is a whirlwind. The most irritating thing about it is that people seem to take this as an opportunity to foist their wills on me, i.e., my life is 'out of control' therefore it is their place to either tell me what to do or to otherwise dominate me. That pisses me off!!! Just because it's busy and hectic, mayeb even sllightly crazy, doesn't mean I can't deal with it. What I just cannot hack is other people interfering.

Yeah, now I'm just ranting and have no substantial proofs or examples to offer. :-P

Still, I find myself mouthing apologies a lot lately, when I don't even mean it, and most of the time, it isn't even necessary in the slightest.

I'd give anything, anything, anything at all to forget you. If, by cutting off my right hand and arm, I could instantly get over you.... man, I'd do it without a moments hesitation.

Current mood: I spent almost the entire day feeling more broken up than I've been in, say, almost a month. I wasn't sure why, why today, when I'd finally regained some joy and happiness in life. Loving someone is like having a cancer of the heart, with its remissions and relapses. 
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If I could scream, if I could rage, if I could cry, I would....but I can't.  I can only write, here. So, maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.
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Is this normal: That I associate people with colors and textures, also sounds with colors, tactile sensations  or tastes, and so on.  No, I don't mean a certain person with a certain textile b/c that's what they wear. I mean, I associate certain very particular shades of color wioth certain people even though they may never have worn that shade, because that color seems as if it *is* them.

I cut my hair off about a month ago. I haven't had it this short since I was 14. I considered shaving or buzzing it all, but opted for something less extreme. It was still a pretty drastic change. I did it because:

• My heart was broken. It was an act of greiving, sort of.
• I was angry. I wanted to die, but decided that cutting the hair would be a less destructive expression.
• It was also sort of a starting over, cutting off the old stuff, turning a new page sort of thing.
• There was also an element of denying my femininity, desexing myself. I chose a man's haircut.
• Finally, I figured that I'd probably be alone for the rest of my life, so there was little sense in being attractive anymore. One of the prime reasons for long hair was that guys tend to like it. No guy in sight, why hassle with it any longer?? So, sort of a surrender.

Irony can be so sweet.........

There is some kind of a saying, either Buddhist/Zen or Judaic, to the effect that when you strive after something.. it becomes elusive, or that when you cease looking for it, chasing it, then you find it.

It's very true.

:smiling deeply from my soul:

Pet Peeves and Wayward thoughts:

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Guys who wear (and I assume intentionally) their underwear exposed by about 3 inches above their waistline. What is this supposed to do? Advertise the brand name? Why? Advertise the fact that they *wear* underwear? Turn girls on? Is it to bring one's attention to the underwear and thence to other, more bedroomly notions?

Yeah, girls wear thongs with low pants. But that's different, because of the shape of the thong and the shape of the skin exposed. It's sexy, and it's teasing, and I personnally find the shapes of the skin/thong/pants aesthetiucally pleasing and far more interesting than a plain waistlilne. That's just me.

But the guy's underwear doesn't show anything but itself, and it isn't even form fitting or erotic in a tactile way (such as silk would be). It just looks like a sloppy jock. Ugh....

Man, I can't believe that I wasted my lunch break ranting about such a trivial thing.

Anyway- current mood, for the most part: happy happy happy

It's like...so many thoughts swirling tumultuously in my head; a slurry mess of muddy blue-green-black-dirty gray (and maybe a few little streaks of red)fighting and struggling with one another. And then.....and then when....it's like a smooth, pure white stone appearing in the center of it all, an island of calm. And all the rest is insignificant.

Scattered but interconnected musings about love-

• Ah, yes...the four letter word. On one hand, the bane of my existence. On the other, the very reason and goal of that existence.
• Why is it that I asssociate love with pain, genrally speaking? Looking back, my initial reaction, upon falling for someone, was terror...not happiness, although that was there too, but real, bone shaking fear.
• And it seems a little odd to realize that I could actually love someone without the fear, without even a fragment of it.
• However, it seems to me that our culture, and probably others as well, romanticizes pain associated with love. Indeed, it is almost as though love and happiness in the abscence of pain would be less valid somehow. What a crock of shit!!!!
• It also seems to me that in the media, popular mindset, etc etc....pain is the acid test of love. You love him? (Or her?) Is it hurting? Is he she causing you pain? Yep, must be love. (I am sitting here rolling my eyes, and yet, I too believed this.)
• Also, why is it that love is seen as static and concrete, fixed. It's not. In fact, I think if it were, it'd be dead, that is, cease to exist.
• There is also this idea that it's a limited commodity, that there's only so much to share or to give, and that it has to be jealously guarded. That seems contrary to it's true nature.
• Oh, hell, I don't know. This is all starting to get a little abstract and amorphous for me....but I do know that I've had it with the love=pain and pain=love trip. That just sucks and I don't think it has to be that way.
• See, I *can* learn from my mistakes. I might be the sort who has to *do* to learn, but learn I can. :-)

This is the goodbye you didn't let me have....it almost has to be listened to, though...reading it is just not the same. Oh well. At this point I'm past obsessing about this sort of thing, or any of it, actually.

Letitgoletitgoletitgoletitgo.....Yep...I'm gonna let it go.

This song is perfect (well, except for pool and school). I've already mentioned the fact that communication is problematic for me. I tend to believe and try to rely on telepathy to some extent, but I think the cold hard truth is that this has been a figment of my (colorful) imagination and I just wanted to believe that such a thing was possible, that it wouldn't be so goddamned *difficult*, that someone would be able to see and hear past the faltering awkward words that are so labored and inadequate for what I want to say. In other words, wishful thinking. There isn't such a thing. Oh, I don't know....maybe there is, hell, I don't know... Even if there is...but for the momnet let's just assume there's not, how many opportunuties have been lost of simply never came to pass, how many unrealized interactions have there been because I thought that somehow, the other person could read my eyes or thoughts? (Read my eyes??? It is SO HARD for me to look a person in the eye, with *rare* exceptions).

But mostly, I think I just zone out, and probably look stupid while doing so. Even if there is telepathy, how many people would be receptive of it?

Ack...I'm getting sidetracked. Anyway, here is a portion of the above song that expresses how I feel. (Song is copyrighted, Elton John, etc etc)
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If you only knew
What I'm going through
Time and again I get ashamed
To say your name
It's hard to grin and bear
When you're standing there
My lips are dry
I catch your eye and look away
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Yeah. That perfectly expresses the almost paralyzing degree or shyness and social ineptitude that I suffer from.

AND WHAT REALLY SUCKS is when I finally get up the nerve to say something to someone (believe it or not I sometimes rehearse things I want to say hours, days, even months in advance), when I finally spit it out and then the other party doesn't even listen or really hear me, or they look at me like I'm nuts, etc etc..... Oh god, it is so frustrating!!! Or, they hear and listen but it doesn't 'get through' to them, or still, worse, they misunderstand me and don't give me a chance to defend myself before jumping all the hell over me (after which I go away and plan out a carefully executed reply for the next week or two). God, it sucks to be me. :sigh: :-(

I took this test and while I could have scored far worse than I did, I had an extremely difficult time with it. The answers I would have guessed weren't usually among the multiple choices. For example, for most of the women, my choice would have been 'sexy' or 'contemptuous'. The men, I wasn't any more sure about....I found myself throwing up my hands in exasperation- how can all that be inferred or read from someone's eyes??

The answers were far more complex and fine tuned than what I would have given: 1- playful, or friendly. 2, sad or else, old. 3, sexpot. 4, domineering 5, looking up thinking 6, sexpot. 7,looking back to the side as though he has just seen something 8,squinting in sunlight. 9, sexpot looking for someone. 10, rugged looking guy smiling 11, possibly a drunk or else tired. 12,skeptical sidelong glance. 13, open 14, scary 15, dreamy girl probably thinking about guy she likes. 16, I like this set of eyes. I can't be objective in my answer, so I'll skip it. These are the sort of eyes I go for. 17 dreamy slightly sad girl 18, bitchy sexpot, probably thinks she's very hot 19, I honestly don't know... 20, slightly walleyed friendly. 21, pretty-friendly 22, careful 23, alert. 24, old and sad and worried 25,sexpot acting flirty 26, unhealthy icky eyes, I would automatically avoid this person, not sure why. 27,28, sexpots looking sexy (what else could possibly be derived from these???) 29, dreamy 30, 31, same as 27 and 28. 32, old, determined, battle scarred. 33, another handsome set of eyes. This time they looked worried, or yes, concerned. Mostly they look good! :-P 34, sexpot, probably Californian. 35, sultry sexpot (whatever that means) 36, mean.

I suppose that to me, a woman wearing lots of eye makeup looks sexy and that's about it. I read no expression in those eyes, except for the dreamy ones. Not too surprising that I have difficulties forming friendships with women- they are almost completely inscrutable to me. The men are slightly better to read, but not by much. Hmmm.

All my life, I've felt like an outcast. I was never able to put a finger on *why*, but the sense of it couldn't have been clearer had it been branded on my forehead. I've struggled (mostly in vain) to make myself heard or understood, given up, sighed and fumed and raged at the perceived ineptitude and shallowness of the general population. They seemed always to be playing some sort of unspoken game that I couldn't see or figure out or read the rules to, yet was punished for failing at.... Now it all makes sense, total and complete sense (well, not the game- that will _never_ make sense to me).

As a child, I used to wonder at what people did...and I used to believe that it was my job to show them the error of their ways, of their stupid two faced social games and lack of forthrightness and honesty. I used to promise myself, that when I grew up, I'd remember what it was like to be a kid, and that I'd be true to myself, not like the adults that I puzzled over. As far as I was concerned, my mission in life was to offer my profound insights to the world at large, to teach them what was really important in life and to quit fretting over silly crap (ah, the idealism of childhood...).

But they throttled me, literally and otherwise. The happily curious and richly creative loner withered away into a brooding, withdrawn, and very confused and depressed 'dork' before I was through third grade. I kept hoping that I'd find someone who'd understand, that I could have a rapport with...really, truly...all I've ever really wanted is to have that rapport and bond with someone, just one person, and I'd be truly and deeply happy. I kept looking...and looking....and looking....and waiting, because I'm about as patient about waiting as a person could possibly be. I'd wait my entire life to spend just one year, or even a month, perhaps only a day of it with someone in that sort of a bond. Yes, I'd wait, and gladly...not begrudging a second of the time spent. Once, I thought I'd found such a person, and I was in seventh heaven for a few days, a few hours, until, until...he sort of vanished from my life. For years I tried to maintain the illusion that he had understood, that he had liked me as I really was...but finally I had to accept that he hadn't. If he had, he would have known me better than he did, he wouldn't have done certain things. He was a nice man, but he never really knew me.

In the bible, the word 'know' or 'knew' is used in a sexual context: "and Adam knew his wife Eve and they concieved a son, Abel." "Issac went into the tent and knew Rebekah and she became his wife". I don't believe in the bible anymore, but this use of the word moves me...sex and a relationship should involve really 'knowing' your lover. "And the girl was a virgin, no man had ever known her". My body is no longer virginal...but in a certain sense, I've never been 'known'. My soul has never been opened. And I'd give anything, anything, anything at all that was mine to give, to have that, but I'd sooner live and die alone than to ever settle for less again.

Anyway, long story short...whether there was actually anything wrong with me is debateable, but yes, I was and am defintely different: aspergia.com

I am really really depressed.....I think I'm an Aspie (a person with Aspberger's syndrome). I mean, in a way this is kind of a relief- it totally explains why I'm the way I am, and frankly I'm sick and tired of trying to go against the grain of my personality merely to fit in, and I've felt 'weird' my entire life- but on the other hand it feels like a sort of death sentence....it's pretty typical for Aspies to have a very hard time forming relationships, even friendships, beyond an aquaintanceship level. People with Asperger's have a very hard/near impossible time with 'reading' or misreading so-called normal people (among other things)...and this definitely seems to be a HUGE issue with me.

All I've ever wanted my entire life (other than being an artist) is to have *ONE* really close friend who'd understand me. I don't think it's ever going to happen. I've been alone my entire life and it looks like I always will be. :-( I don't know if that sort of a life is worth living.

What do you say when you can't eat, can't drink, can't sleep, can't get out of bed, can't face the world, when your mind feels like it's falling apart...and then it gets worse?

I'm trying to tell myself I deserve it, but somehow that's a little hard to believe.

Arrgh!!!

I'm depressed. I feel things so intensely, and I had might as well be a mute hermit for all the (lack of) ability I have in expressing it. The things that are within me- feelings, thoughts, ideas, insights, and so on, torment me, especially the feelings. I can be content to sit and think about the other stuff, except that it gets lonely...but feeling aren't rational and trying to analyze or transform them into something rational gets really tiresome after a few months (well, okay, sooner than that). Anyway, back to the main thought at hand: spoken words can never express or do justice to the things in my head, and it ****ing drives me crazy.

How can anyone cram what they feel into a few convenient, concise words and be contented with that? An idea- they're diagrams or images in my head, something almost tangible that I can turn over mentally and examine from several angles. It's always been this way for me- even numbers. How anyone can translate such a thing into sounds, and sounds not of music or even singing- for that seems possible to me- but of a voice speaking, just baffles and confounds me. Don't they sense the lack of vitality, the color fading from the thing, the difference between a living growing flower and a dead wilted one?

They don't seem to. Are they contented with that, are they shallow or are they able to say what they want to? How can that be enough for them?

Eh. What I'm really wondering doesn't concern them. I feel like a very plain understated package that people pass over because it just sits there, concealing what is within- many interesting and colorful things- because it is incompetent and powerless to describe them on little label. I can gripe about the bright and clearly labeled boxes or criticize the ones with the picture windows displaying their contents, but that only circumvents the real issue. I am jealous, yes!!- green with envy- because I sit on the sidelines as though paralyzed and dumb. I feel like a social retard, crippled by my ineptitude and clumsiness.

The only thing that even comes close to expressing it, (other than actions, which are inclined to be cautious) is art. I'm about ripe for another painting. People don't understand them, either, but at least I feel better afterwards for having expressed it..... :-P

Today's weird idea: they should make a watch that's a very thin patch which fastens with a waterproof adhesive to the skin. It should derive it's power from the pulsing of the veins on the inner side of the wrist. It wouldn't need batteries and it wouldn't fail until one died (and at that point, who cares if it quits oiperating for awhile? Besides, it would be a handy indicator of the time of death).

Two songs for today:white flag hello

Today's gripe (should be: "today's weird gripe"): Why is it that men have a word for their arousal- erections- and there is no suitable corresponding word for women? Men get engorged. So do women. I'm assuming that it can an uncomfortable state for them, as it is for women. It can be almost painful. I guess the fact that we don't have anything visible sticking out makes it less legitimate somehow. *Irk*!!!

I've moved to the new place. It's nice and quiet, peaceful. It's nice to have my own space and to be able to arrange matters in my own way.

Bad thoughts: I think it would be funny if soemone crossed a Shar Pewi with a Dachschund. That would be hilarious.

I had another one- oh, darn. I can't remember it right now. Dang.

Well, that was a bit extreme and not at all fair. I discovered that I was wrong, too: My grandma Amy, the one who helped raise me, loves me. She really does. :warm fuzzy nurtured vibes:

So let me restate this: I feel alone.

There may be people who love me, but if I feel so isolated that I can't feel it 99% of the time, what good does it do me? I've always been so different and struggled so hard to try to get people to acknowledge me for what I am, not what they want me to be...Let's face it: I'm kind of weird. Always have been, always will be.

The way people feel about me is largely immaterial, whether they love or hate me, if I can't be reached. If it's a protection, it's also a barrier. I have to feel like someone *understands* me- no illusions, no wishful thoughts about how I could be like other people, there has to be a mental connection; and most of the time, it's lacking.

I used to have a very strong sense of myself, and over many years I've tried to suppress it- to please people, to avoid punishment, to try to win love, worn myself out trying to figure out what they wanted me to be and trying to mold myself into that. The thing is, I was never really secure when they liked me, because I felt like a sham. And you know, I'm sick of it. I want to be myself again, and to hell with what anyone else thinks, because people who don't like you the way you are never really did in the first place anyway.

The other day I was walking through the store- (I think it must have been last Thursday, becasue I was at the store with a client in Sandpoint); and as I passed a case full of cookies with brightly colored frosting on them this thought came to me: I am unloved. There is nobody: family, lover, or otherwise. It stood out spare and bleak as against a flat featureless landscape, a plain fact. I looked at it as if from far away, as if from another person, and the thought was as though it were happening to someone else and I was unmoved....it was like coming across the corpse of something lying alongside the road- you look at it for a moment, you say to yourself, "It is dead" and the reality being what it is, you resume walking.

It sounds rather surreal, and that's the way it felt....

But I think it's probably true. There are people who *need* me, people who *want* me for whatever reason, people who like me, people who find me useful or beneficial to them in some way, there are people who feel a sort of duty towards me, and above all, people who try hard to go through life being kind and good natured towards everyone, so of course they're nice to me. :shrug: But love? I don't think so.

I think it's possible to love someone _and_ to need, want or find them useful, but if you can't love them without that, then it isn't love.

I never really got back about that painting, did I? Well, I'm not done with it yet. And actually, the idea I had sort of evaporated and was replaced by a similar but different one...but whatever. The point is that I felt like killing someone that night and I regained my sanity by painting a picture. If I go too long without enough solitude and no painting or other creative expression, I get that way, particuarly if I'm already stressed. It's abstract. I don't expect anyone will like it. I don't care. I like it.

:Searching brain for other news: I've been researching Georgia O'Keeffe and Aspberger syndrome.

Oh- I came up with this neat and arguably evil idea: one of the main limitations of clothing design is that fact that is has to be fastened to the body, and the shape has to support that requirement. There are all sorts of neat shapes and stuff that simply would not work b/c they'd fall off (or get in the way). Just about everythign functional about clothing is based on the fact that it has to cling to, wrap around, grip, or encase the body, when all clothing really needs to do is to conceal, expose, or warm the body. So I have the solution: what we ned are little skin toned adhesive patches, sort of like the medication patches they sell to stop smoking, diet, etc etc.. but the patch should hold a strong magnet to the body. The clothing can then incorporate magnets at key positions to attach to the one on the body. The magnets could be adjusted to make allowances for size and tailoring. Using this system, garments could be designed that would make the bikini look conservative, and risky (they're pretty bad about falling off). No more bands or belts or pink marks where something was too tight! Goodbye to snaps and straps and zips! No more worrying about a dress sliding down or, for that matter, riding up, if you don't want it to! Well....OK....I'm trying to think of applications for male garments and admittedly, I'm having mental roadblocks....but women would have a heyday with it!

I want to paint or draw....but I cannot come up with a picture to express the way I feel. I try: an image rolls through. Nah....not emphatic enough, not dark enough, not enough contrast there...too blah too soft too bland and half hearted too dull too.....too inadequate. They're all like that, if I can conjure anything at all.

OK wait....that might work. I can try. There is a painting on the wall upstairs that says it...sweeter, keener. It is the only painting that I have _never_ever gotten a comment or compliment on by anyone. They don't understand it. What I want to do now is darker, emptier, more spare bare boned, less bright.... Yeah. I'll give it a whirl. I kind of wish I could post the pictures here.

Need to get a digital camera.

Reading through these posts and the books I've begun reading makes me a little depressed. I don't finish half of them. I don't have the time, but it's more than that. I feel like the consant work and interactions with, well...the standard Priest River crowd (i.e. rednecks who get their kicks and thrill out of getting drunk every weekend and spending the rest of the week guffawing about the party and subsequent hangover and the coming weekend's party) is eroding my brain cells. When I'm not working, I'm surrounded and beseiged by children, which isn't much better.

It doesn't help that I have a constant comparison trip running; I compare myself with other people in different situations, or who've had different opportunities, or who have more time or solitude, etc etc (or are these just excuses??). The biggie for me is education- the lack of a solid foundation in some very basic subjects (math, chemistry, etc) makes me feel inferior. It doesn't really help that I know a lot about other subjects since these are frequenbtly discounted as unimportant (either by me or the other party) or I don't really do so well at verbalizing what I know. For me, ideas are not....they're not words. They're pictures. Even abstractions are mapped out in images or...I don't know how to explain it. It's not a picture but not words, either. Putting an image or abstraction into spoken words (written words are slightly better) frustrates me. It comes out bland and half baked. There is none of the vigor or excitement of the idea.

Anyway- I'm thinking that I will go ahead and apply for college- I was starting to question whether I would actually do this- not because I hope to get a better job out of it, though that'd be nice, or to get a degree, though I intend to, but mostly because I'm tired of feeling shorted in the areas that matter to me. The life I'm living now rubs against my grain and highlights all my weaknesses.

Sidenote: In the work with disabled people, I'm struck by the way that they pick out the person's weakest point and place a lot of emphasis on improving that rather than playing up the strong points and talents. Shy people are to go out in the community and interact with strangers. Talkative friendly types are to be quiet in public except when conducting a conversation. Energetic kids are encouraged to sit still, while stolid ones are nudged along to more activity....I'm generalizing of course, but this is the general way it works. Yeah it's good to round a person out a little, but don't they feel it to be an incredible strain? And, the minute you let the pressure off, they tend to revert to the way they'd rather be, anyway. I think there is a difference bewteen a person's natural self and their disability impairing the expression of the natural self, and the focus should be on the latter. Just a wild idea..

What the Bible has to say about women: here and here. Yeah, I'm beating a dead horse. I don't know why I even think about this crap since it's largely irrelevant to me now.

That's one way of looking at it. Another is that our cultural history is based on the bible and Christianity with the result that our society is still riddled with and tainted by these viewpoints. Like it or not, believe in it or not, we will encounter this mentality on a regular basis for some time to come yet. :shrug: For whatever that's worth (I'm not sure it's much).

Ha. Get a good look at the banner ads and the text they're related to here! I can't help being a little tickled by the twistedness of that...yeah, my sense of humor is just a little twisted too, I guess.

umm...let's see here.... I'm in the process of learning how to use command lines. I fear I'm just a little obtuse about these things at times...I sort of learn by trial and error and actually *doing* things though, so it's fairly forgiving. I need to edit my website to reflect the changed status of the herd....and uh....I think I'll actually have time to paint tonight....I've got this nagging sense that I forgot to do something, in town or somewhere. Probably it's in the deli and someone else took it over hours ago... heh. I'm like that.

It looks like I've found an apartment that I can rent, which strikes a compromise between price and size.

Cool- tonight the moon- which is sliver thin- had a weak enough shadow that I could see the non-illuminated part. (Surely there is a more graceful and or scientific way to express this, but it eludes me tonight).

Today I found some beautiful seashells at a store (alas, no I did not gather them from a beach. Soemday, I hope this dream will come true. Not that it's a huge priority right now, but hey, it'd be nice...), some cool art books at the library, and got bit by a dog at the animal shelter.

Pet peeve: no kill animal shelters that rescue mean, biting dogs hoping to find 'good homes' for them. What the hell kind of a 'good home' is going to want to *PAY* to own a biter???? Geez, people, get real! And it really pisses me off that they don't at least have a padlock on the cages of the mean dogs, when children and volunteers, some of them handicapped or retarded, are being encouraged to come on in and walk a dog. That is a HUGE liability. Sure, some of the cages have a 'do not walk, agressive to people' sign, but a good number of developmentally disabled people cannot read; besides which, the one that but me had no such sign and looked quite meek...

Life kinda sucks right now. Maybe someday it'll get better.

Found two Lary Niven books today, and Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. There was a nice selection of LeGuin too, but they were pricer higher than what I could afford. What else: still painting and drawing, trying to learn command lines. I almost fell apart in the library today. Client I was with asked me why I was sad...I just slapped a weak smile on and told him I was OK. It didn't fool him. Mentally disabled people can be surprisingly astute.

Don't know what else to say, except that things are actually getting better. I hate the way loneliness creeps up suddenly; in a store, driving, at work, and it's so paralyzing and overwhelming. Things can be going along routinely, and then, BANG! it grips me so tightly I can't think of anything else.

Reading through the posts here...I sure whine a lot. Ick!!

The typos are also in abundance. Oh well. Live with it!

Take a look at these love poems! LMAO!!! Ha. I've never had the nerve to write anything quite that...direct.... before. Well, close...but hopefully nobody's going to read it while I'm still alive! Somehow, it just isn't deemed appropriate for women to write stuff like that, but it's not too terribly surprising when a guy does.

No, don't sit there holding your breath. I'm not likely to do so and post it here (!)

More Adoration

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Pop idols, movie stars, fairy tales, romance novels, and fairy tales. All non-threatening objects to project adoration and love onto, where the battle-scarred face of reality will not intrude. Of course, whether we're talking about Michael Jackson or Jesus Christ, there also isn't much direct fulfillment or return on this sort of investment, other than what one imagines or conjures up in a fantasy...but that seems to be sufficient and truly preferable to the all too scary prospect of dealing with another live human, giving them your all, and accepting them for what they are.

Aside from the need/desire for a higher meaning, I wonder if the desire for/belief in God is due to an innate need to adore, trust, and love someone. Think about this: if you didn't have God, you'd still want to be close to someone, right? But people are sooo hard to trust completely, and being human, we goof up, so adoring a person has to be in balance with reality and taking someone as they are.

Loving and adoring God fixes all that. He comes first. You cannot love someone 100% or adore them if you love God. He even says so and makes no bones about it. Even your children, your flesh and blood, you have to be willing to sacrifice them as Abraham was willing to sacrifice Isaac. Principles come first, God comes first. It's pretty hard to argue with someone who believes that.

My point: perhaps loving God is a sort of protection against having to love and trust other people, with all their imperfections, zits, and wrinkles.

I don't have much of anything to say tonight, but the past week or two's posts have been so negative that I sort of feel obligated to balance it out somehow.

I'm still reading Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. My bosses in their office must wonder why I sit snickering (alone) in the break room... The other book is Life, the Universe, and Everything. Here is something else: the one I'm reading now is a FIRST EDITION. I couldn't believe that. On the other hand, I wanted to read it too badly to keep it mint condition, and it IS a paperback....maybe it is not a true first...

And, The Telling by Ursula Le Guin. I haven't begun it yet. It's a libary book. Also, The Blue Flower, based upon the life of Novalis. I never did get to finish reading Faust or Ecce Homo by Nietzche, and I want to. They were both too heavy to read with a brain already exhausted from working in the deli. By the time I'd get into the flow, it was time to go back to work.

I had some kind of an idea today, but now I can't remember it. The irritating thing about this job is that it is multi-tasking that entails CONSTANT interruptions. You cannot simply begin a task and follow through on it until it's done. Oh no. You begin sweeping the floor, and a customer arrives. You wait on them, they buy up all the chicken, and four or five more people swing through before you can cook more chicken. Someone wants salad, and the salad runs out, so you go to get more. FINALLY, you get a chance to rush to the back room and grab the chicken and pop it in the fryer. If a customer comes while your hands are gooey with raw meat, too bad! Someone else will have to deal with it! The minute you're done with that, more customers. They want meat, and wouldn't you know, it's meat that hasn't been sliced up yet. So, you do that, get the meat to them, and clean off the slicer, and package up the remainder of the presliced meat, all in between cstomers, of course. A crowd of teenagers march in and can't make up their mind. Then the buzzer goes off on the chicken fryer! You dash to the fryer and retrieve the chicken, get what the customers want, and start to put the chicken in the hot case. Oh- a co-worker walks by and asks you to stop doing that and do (whatever) first. So you do. Then you run back and finish putting the chicken in the case. The teens bought up a lot of other deli food, so you have to cook more of that. While it's cooking, you notice the tables are gooey and messy, so you wipe them off, and then get the stuff from the fryer to the hot case. Stand there a little dazed...because it seems like there was a loose end somewhere...ah yes: the sweeping. You resume this. Then, the phone rings: someone wants nearly all the chicken in the hot case....arrgh!!!

My point is that it's sort of remarkable if you can think about anything else at all there. Holding a thought until the end of the day would be...almost miraculous. I'm a focusing sort of person. There are things I care nothing about, and things that I focus on, with very, very little middle ground. The middle ground is merely and temporarily tolerated so that I can get to what I really thrive on: focusing on something. If I seem preoccupied, it's generally because I'm either trying to recover a thought, or trying to hold a thought until I can get some task or interaction over with and get back to the thought or preferred task. This holds true with people, too. If I look bored, don't take it too personally; I'm an introvert. If I'm focused, chances are quite good that I like you. If I'm focused AND missed you, it's exceptional, because you are.

Anyway, the scatterbrained nature of this job drives me nuts. I kind of hate it.

I'm tired of living if this is how it's always going to be. I keep on plodding along and trying various things in the hopes that someday, I'll find the magic combination of factors (that seem to come so easily for other people) and man, it just doesn't look too promising. I keep getting kicked when I'm down, but nobody ever kicks me quite hard enough to finish me off. Now that's cruelty.

Yeah, I guess I'm depressed. Need to get out the Saint John's wort again.

Have you read Animal Farm? Right now I'm playing the role of the horse (what was his name?); the one whose reply to hardships was always: "I will work harder". I've always identified more with the cynical donkey... think his name was Benjamin...

Seems like my mental world has shrunk down to two or three driving, insistent subjects. I'm so tired.

I want to paint. During the breaks and lunch at work, I draw with colored pencils. The pencils are cheap and waxy and the color doesn't build up like I want it to. Irksome!!

The doe who had the C section has been walking around and is actually still producing milk (!) This is good. The baby will have milk to drink. He screams if he sees a carton of cow's milk. I suppose it gives him a stomach ache or something.

Sigh. I want a day off, ideally a day where I don't have to watch the children all day long, too. There isn't such a day anywhere in sight. Last day off was 3/20. What sucks is that for as much as I'm working, I'm not even getting anywhere, but this is due in part to bills and debts being paid off, childcare, and gas. The car sucks down gas like a wino does 20/20.

Teeth hurt, my breath must be bad. Rotting teeth stink, at least my mom's did. Ugh.

Some few of the bulbs are blooming: 'Jumblie' daffodils, only 3-4" high and very cute and tiny, scilla, chinodoxia, as well as standard daffodils which have been here for a long time. Hyacinths will kick in soon. There are places that I planted chock full of bulbs wherre nothing at all is emerging, and sites where the bulbs grew last year but are making a very poor return this time around. Fucking pocket gophers.....grrrrrr.....There are only one or two oriental lilies, and I planted about $50 worth of lilies. But it isn't the money that matters, it's the fact that I've wanted and dreamed about these lilies for years, finally got them, and they failed before I even had a chance to enjoy them.

Is that all my life's ever going to be, a series of failed pipe dreams?

This is depressing: every day, I check my email, and there are 4-7 messages, all spam or INTP mailing list messages. There is never any personal mail I have three pages of mail (mostly old stuff I haven't sorted yet). Today, I check the mail, and there are seven pages, and I think, wow. What in the heck happened? Did the INTPs suddenly have a huge, dramatic increase in verbosity? Did I get a LOT of spam? Maybe I actually got a 'real' email today. I mean, seven pages, that's a lot, the odds are in my favor. Nope. I somehow got resubscribed to a goat mailing list that had dropped me. Nothing else but spam and one that was server related. Life sucks.

My P.O. box is the same way. No mail. Bills, flyers, adverts, religious stuff, an occasional catalog. No real mail. People gripe about my not writing. This is why. They don't write back. Correspondance is not my strong point. I always analyze it to death and wind up writing something that totally lacks color or spontanaiety. Email is better. I send it before I get to that point. But it's still an effort, and then when they don't reply, I go back and read what I wrote, trying to see if it was out of line or offensive or what. Ack!!!
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I went to my supervisor and told her that something has to be done about the gal who's been picking on me. If it dsoesn't change, I'm going to have to quit. Got my second paycheck today, and this also is depressing. I work my ass off there. In that last two weeks I've lost 5 lbs, and I was already lean. The pay for those two weeks is so little that it only covers the checks I've written (and asked people not to cash- yet) and gas and daycare for the next week, if I'm reeeeeally lucky. Basically it pays for me to go to work at the other place, where I typically only put in two days a week, sometimes three. I can't get ahead like this. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Scavenging: Got- milk, bread, yogurt, half and half for the baby (goats aren't milking and we'e out of formula), a bag crammed full of kid's clothing, for free, a pair of tennis shoes that fit me (my other two pairs were falling apart at the seams) for 50 cents, a chenille sweater for 50 cents, free magazines, and two more Douglas Adams books- Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and (I think) The Ultimate Hitchhiker's guide...something or other like that, 25 cents each. Also- 75 cents worth of cool little glass or metal beads to make earrings from, (I had to splurge a little) and 3 baby bottles at 10 cents apiece. Let it not be said that I've got extravagant taste!!

Anyway, so now I'm snickering and grinning like a dork over these books. They're just great. :>)

The gal I had a problem with was at work again and picked a fight with me- over a very insignificant nitpicky thing. Well, I'm done with this shit. Either she cuts it out, or they rearrange things so I don't have to work with her, or I quit. I just can't work and function when I'm cringing and feeling intimidated by her. Yeah, yeah....I know...don't *let* her intimidate me. But when you've had a lifetime of abuse, that's a little easier said than done; and dealing with it at all is a drastic improvement over what I've done in the past. I'm tired of having this **** bullying me. I've owned goats like her- they went straight to the sale barn or some other inauspicious place.

Anyway....I was feeling pretty miserable. I wanted a warm place to curl up in and feel safe, but alas...the upstairs was at home. What I realized (just now) was that I wanted to be held, to have someone run their fingers through my hair and tell me to forget about it, not to worry about it, etc. IOW, to be nurtured. Ew, that makes me squirm to admit.... but OTOH....I have it in me to do that for someone else, for my children, for the goats. What's so terrible about confessing a momentary craving for it myself?

Also- I would never treat another person the way this woman is treating me. Another adult, a child, my children; hell, I wouldn't even treat a goat that way unless I had a damned good reason to do so (such as an animal having shown aggression and having to really make it toe the line). There was a new girl today, her first day on the job. I was nice to her, showed her all the stuff the way I wish it'd been presented to me. I'm not a bad person, didn't deserve all the crap that's been dished out to me over the years. Sometimes it just happens that way. Honestly though, get enough of it, and you begin to wonder whether maybe this is, in fact, the measure of your worth. (!) To hell with that!!!! We can't change what's already happened, the fact that there are nasty, cruel people in the world who get off by making others absolutely miserable. All we can do is to make it right, to try to create in reality the way things ought to be, and hope it'll catch on, that it'll be contagious and crowd the bad out (in time).

Long day at work. Been working every day since the 20th. Life seems unreasonably difficult and complicated right now. I have no idea how I am going to make it through spring break. I cannot afford the child care. The cost of gas alone is eating me up alive. I often wonder why I am doing this, why I'm even bothering? Failure and defeat lurk around the corner, and so far I've managed to beat them off, but only barely. Hell, I don't even know how I'm going to manage tomorrow. I have *no* money for child care. Let me count- I'm rich today: a grand total of $3.31!! Ha. Maybe I can get several days worth of lunch with that, if I want to splurge.

Still sick. Yesterday was about a 12 hour day..today, 8 hours. I can't see that work really makes much of a difference, except tiredness at times, and it keep my mind off feeling crummy or depressed, so might as well make money. Ugh. I sort of hate the way mone has acquired such a prominent status in my life. Unfortunately, at this time it's the part of the puzzle that has to be dealt with in order for everything else to fall into line. I'll try to keep it in perspective, though- as a tool, not an end in itself. I don't really have the sort of mentality that could strive endlessly after $ anyway, though.

The gal I had a problem with was at work today, and we're on speaking/working/small talk terms again. It makes for a more comfortable working atmosphere. I didn't really want to have it out with her, in fact I tried everything I could think of to please her before I finally decided she'd have to live with the best I could do. Now, if they just won't make us close together again. Closing the deli is the most stressful part of it. I closed with another girl tonight and we finished early. :-)

I occasionally see guys that look momentarily appealing for...well, a moment or less. Heh. None of them are even remotely tempting.

I keep (over the course of days, weeks, months) find myself longing for and fantasizing about a nice hot shower or a relaxing bath. There are _no_ relaxing baths here. It just doesn't happen. Getting a bath once a week is uncommonly good fortune. I've considered renting a motel room expressly for the sake of the shower...eh..I guess not.... :sigh: How long is it going to be before things can be different, before I can take a hot shower for granted as part of a normal, daily routine?

Someday, I want clean clothes, clean towels that don't smell sour, washcloths without mildewed spots on them, to be able to eat without feeling anxiety about whether I should have reserved part of the food for the next meal, to never have to worry about having enough to eat again, to be able to rise above obsessing over incredibly small, trivial things that other people take for granted, like band aids, matches, and socks. To be able to wash my face or hair without spending 15 minutes (or more) finding the necessary supplies or heating the water, and so on. I know that there are people in the world who haul water in buckets or skin bags for miles, who could not even conceive of a hot bath, and who're fine with that. Man, I'm tired of that sort of thing.

Currently: sick. I feel crummy, run down. Heart hurts and jumps. Bleah! Girl at work had bronchitis which turned into pneumonia and had her down for at least two weeks. I'm hopng I haven't caught it; they made her come back before she was completely over it, and she was coughing all over the place. At any raet, it doesn't matter. I have to be up at 6:00 to go to work tomorrow. Fun fun fun.......

Current mood: ummm... wilted/forlorn/fighting off vapors of hopelessness and futility/upbeat/ready to go to work again and play with her head if she messes with me again/happy spring's here/planning more garden stuff/wondering why I should plant more/creative/popping with ideas.

Yeah, I really do feel that way, all of it. I think I missed some of it, if you want to know the truth. When people ask me something like, "How are you doing?", I always pause and scrutinize myself to see before formulating a reply. (Hummm, well, I felt suicidal this morning but then X happened and that cheered me up, but there's also this other little problem which will affect N if I don't do something about B.....) and then as the words come to fruition and I'm about to speak, I realize that the other party doesn't want to know all that, they're merely asking a ritualized question and an honest reply would be out of order, so I say (somewhat surprised and off-guard since I was jerked out of the other thoughts) "Oh! Er....I'm fine, and you?" They mince out more trivial politeness while looking at me strangely and make a getaway as soon as possile. I'm such a dork.....

The 'current mood' stuff bothers me for the above reasons. I can't really box in everything that I'm experiencing inwardly into one or two words. The best I can do is to express the predominant tone or the one that's most distressing. Why do I do it at all, then? Because. Part of the purpose of the blog was for me to try to record what's going on, to see if I could detect a pattern or recurrrent themes, to try to identify what's going on, because emotional stuff is just so hard/confusing/mystifying to me, like a foreign language that takes over inside my head. That's why. And one thing I've noticed is that, when I start off by saying something like, I don't know how I feel... there usually follows a lot of unhappiness and things that've been plaguing me and i wasn't conciously aware of them until I tried to express it.

Odd Random thoughts

• They should sell pre-decorated hard boiled eggs for busy people who lack the ability or inclination or time to decorate their own.
• It'd be really cool to have the eggs with a marbelized finish, you know, like the marbled paper in fancy books.
• I hate the way people address old/handicapped people, as thought they're children
• I had the *weirdest* dream last night
• So far, most of the does I wanted doelings from have obliged, but I can only keep a certain number of goat. Who am I going to cull??
• The new buck is posty (not enough angulation in the rear leg, where the hock is). This is a serious problem.
• Next buck used will have to be very strong in leg angulation. Buy?? From whom? Breed? Which doe?
• Runs through mental list of Sodium Oaks bucks in nitrogen tank with good angulation.
• Why is it that I bought two amarylisses, both supposed to be white, and one was red and the other is salmon pink? Do the bulbs get mixed up at the packing place? Do they just plop bulbs into boxes, with there being no real correlation bettween box and bulb color? I wanted white.
• This spring has been very dry. It will be a struggle for the garden and perennials.
• Coordinating the work schedules is a pain. I think I'll request to work Fri- Mon at the deli and Tue-Thur at the other (preferable) job.
• Now that I've got these jobs, the Forest Service work is out of the question, and I really wanted to at least look into that. Damn!
• I could let them go. It would look bad on resumes though, quit two jobs. Besides, I like the work with disabled people.
• Chess: two problems; One, the PK4,PK4,NKB4,NQB4,B4, (expecting B4 response), KN4. This leads into the Two Knight's defense. I'm having trouble with that opening. I don't always want to use the fried liver attack. I got aced night before last when I faltered about this.
• secondly: Sicilian Defense; I have yet to reply to PK4 with PQB4 and have the opponent reply in the expected manner with NKB3. I have been striving to become familar with this defense, have played it several times, and they always do something else, and then I'm left to wing it, which I do...but it'd be nice to at least know how it'd go if the standard route was followed.
• And, it's time for me to wash my clothes so I can go to work.

Work: A- the gal who had me cowed and B- work in general and my failings.

A- I did a lot better tonight. I thought about this a lot last night and today, and I decided that she gets off on intimidating me and throwing her weight around. I don't need a smart assed remark- that'd just give her the fuel to hand it back to me or go and report me to someone. Besides, why in the hell should I get myself all worked up and in a bad mood just because she wants to make me miserable? See, she's winning then. For almost every previous night I've worked with her, honestly- I rarely, rarely cry, but this woman, at this very stresssful time, has had me very close to it. Want me to hate you? Do that. >:-( Can't stand losing my composure, ugh.

Anyway, like I said, life is already so stressful right now, with two jobs and five kids and not much to eat ever, half the goats gone and a C-section and noone to be close to, that I just cannot take even one more thing, and especially something this minor. In the larger scheme of things, it's peanuts, extremely trivial. So I decided to leave her alone as much as possible, work as hard as I possibly can, do the best job I can, mind my own business, and be cheerful and let it all slide off me, whatever the heck she does. I am _not_ letting her control me any longer by getting me all upset. Life's too short and I've more important things to focus on. So, :-D That's what I did. She hated it. Ohhhhh, she was mad. I was nice, I was diligent, I hummed to myself, and the pissier she got, I just acted more laidback, even if I was all tensed up inside. She left in a hissy fit, and I cheerily bade her good night. She didn't respond. *shrug* I was more productive and efficient than I've been for, maybe a week, since I wasn't fuming and cringing and hesitating all the time. :rolling eyes:

B- This is more of a problem. I was late the day of the C-section. There was nothing, NOTHING, short of letting the doe die, that I could do about that. Nothing at all. Yesterday, I found out at the last minute that I'd have to find a babysitter for three children, and not one of the daycares or people nearby could be found to do it. Closest person who would was Vicky, 30-40 miles away. The back road is supposed to be faster, shorter? Arrrgh...it was not. It took forever, the car got hot, I got lost... By the time I finally found her and sped off to work (the main and supposedly longer route) I was about 45 minutes late. They all gave me strange and blank looks when I said I;d gotten lost taking the kids to the sitter....back roads, OK? I'd never driven that route before and had forgotten a small segment of it. Today, I went to the job in Sandpoint, about 30 miles away, and worked there from noon to 3:00. (They're flexible while I'm training. Anything at all counts.) Part of the initiation into this job involves checking over my car- brakes, lights, blinkers, etc. I left the lights on afterwards....that battery was dead as a flattened toad. Work at the deli started at 4:00, and here I am, 30 miles away, at 3:15-3:30, getting uptight because I had planned to be punctual...alas. The other employee's cars could not jump me, Les Schwab had to be called. I didn't get that car on the road until 3:40. Went 55-60 all the way (well, when the speed limit and traffic allowed it), but was still almost half an hour late. The guy who hired me said my lateness appeared to be a habit...I wanted to crawl under the table...I tried to explain, but the undeniable fact is that I was late, very late, for three days in a row. I think they could forgive the C section, but after that it became a problem. That guy is nice, I respect him; it really sucks to look like a flake and a loser. The thing is, i've replayed all three of these scenes over in my mind, and short of turning off the lights and taking the main route to Vicky's, I don't know what else I could have done. I certainly planned to be there on time, but crap happens. Why does it always happen to me...

I'm really starting to have a hard time with this job (deli). It isn't the work so much, though the combination of multi-tasking, people, and stress/time pressure is a little overwhelming. It's the woman I work with. I can't stand her. She never missses a chance to cut me down, to act condescending, to criticize or hurry me, or to make me feel small and insignificant. I'm rapidly approaching the threshold of hatred.... If there is a job I enjoy or like, she makes sure I don't get to do it, and leaves me the hard, dirty work, whatever she doesn't especially want to do, particularly washing our the grease encrusted metal pans from the hot case (these are what the deep fried foods sit in all day long and drip grease into- fun, fun, fun...) There are still occasionally things I don't know yet, things I haven't done. If I ask her a question, she acts as though I'm just the stupidest child she ever set eyes on and says she already told me, gets all impatient and put out. Never mind that she *didn't* ever tell me- she insists that she did. There is a checklist of tasks to perform before closing each night, and spaces to fill in with the initials of who did them. She does a lot of small things, so her name is all over the place. The more time consuming tasks each have just one space even though they're three times as hard. Also, there is no space for cooking or waiting on the customers, both of which increasingly fall to me, unless she wants me to do something harder at the time- then she shoos me away from waiting on the people and does it herself. This means that I can bread and cook enough chicken to feed an army, and have only one space- 'bread chicken' checked off with my name. And the worst part of it all is that she does all these things in such a subtle, domineering way that I am at a loss as to how to defend myself against her. Every night, I get mad, feel distraught, get angrier because she was able to make me upset, and fume and throw clean dishes into the rinsing sinks, trying to think of some way to get her, or to quit, or whatever. She's as plump as a fat hen. She's got plenty of food. She doesn't know what it is to be dizzy from not having eaten much of anything and still working your tail off. I do get confused occasionally, I'm lightheaded, for crying out loud... I mean, goddammit, can't she cut me some slack for a change??? Oddly enough, the deli food hardly tempts me, but it's hell to have to throw away the heels of the meat that's left after slicing it. If I could get away with it....man, it's a waste. If I make a mistake, she acts as though it's what she expected. If I do something right, she says, "There! You see! That's what I've been telling you all along. You *finally* figured it out." And that is another thing- she's forever acting as though I'm an idiot simply because I don't do well with verbal directions. If I ask again to make sure I heard it right, she huffs her breath out, puts hand on hip, and generally looks like she'd slap me if she could get away with it. I hate this....I hate it hate it hate it....and there is only one reason I'm doing it at all, because it's really the only thing for me left to do....

I do fine with any of the other people, any of them. If I thought I could do so without her getting wind of it, I'd ask the supervisors to not have me work with her alone anymore. She's quite a bit different in the presence of the others. Oh- the final straw- she's only been there a week or two longer than myself. She *isn't* my supervisor. She actually has little or no real authority over me. The bossiness is a total sham, but I don't know what to do about it.

I hate working with women. It never works. I want to be a box boy.... :-( Women are a pain. They're underhanded, they...they work in ways I can't quite comprehend. It's infuriating. Men aren't like that- most of them aren't. Most guys are pretty much above the pettiness in my experience. That isn't to say they can't be cruel, but it is different. I totally do not understand the way most women operate. A few people have suggested I should get a female roommate. I just go... ha. ha. ha. Uh-uh... No way. Noooo sireee. That is _not_ gonna happen. Don't want no females a-tellin' me what to do on mah own turf, no, suh....

Just about brain-dead... Tomorrow I've got to go to the food bank and get some food. I haven't had an entire day off work since the 4th, and I've missed going to the food bank for almost a week. It shows- it really, truly, does. I cannot think without nourishment feeding the old brain cells. Fridge is just about empty, cupboards have dry goods- beans, whole wheat kernels, that sort of thing; not helpful when you come home hungry after working and eating only one sandwich and a few grapes all day. I cannot compehend why anyone in their right mind would think I would want to continue living my life in this way year after year, when just making it through a week is an ordeal....

Delilah had her C-section: I had to take her all the way through Sandpoint for it, the local vet wouldn't do it. Hefty bill and two lovely doelings and a buck kid to show for it. I'll retire her now. :-)

Reflecting: I've played chess with a lot of people. I cannot recall playing even one woman. All my opponents have been male. Why is that? It's such a cool, beautiful game. Oh, I may have played my sister when we were in our early teens...I can't remember. I know I played my brother on a regular basis. I don't think she liked chess. Do women not enjoy chess? :ponders:

Currently: wiped out...exhausted...can barely think. Eight hours of strenuous work at the deli. I ate: 2 burritos, 2 energy bars. It seems like that should have been enough. And just now, I had about a cup of mashed potatoes. Anyway, I am so tired I feel almost brain dead.

Delilah (goat who needs C section): I just checked on her while feeding the herd. Her ligaments have softened up so that I can't feel them, meaning that she will go into labor in about 12 hours or less. I'm deliberating on whether it's more irresponsible to go to sleep and rest for tommorrow's work or to stay up to check on her through out the night. I'm kind of hoping she doesn't go into labor until morning, because I don't think the vet will cotton to working on a (gasp) goat in the middle of the night, which also entails waking up two or more vet techs to assist. Most vets will NOT work on a goat for any reason. This one tolerates them- he the only one in the area who does. I know better than to think he enjoys it, he sighs and is so reluctant about them, but at least he will do it. :-/ Think I'll go to bed and leave a note to check on her first thing in the morning. There's no way I could drive her to the vet's and stand there for an hour or two and return safely in my present state, and she also isn't uddered up yet- another sign of imminent birth. Hard calls... Don't know how my employer is going to like the notion of my being absent for some of the work due to a goat's C section..heh, heh.

I just worked the second day of my new job. (In case I didn't mention this before, it's as a Community Support Specialist- working with developmentally disabled people- adults and children). I'm very happy with it- it doesn't even feel like work. I came away from it with a sense of contentment and satisfaction. Life is good. :-)

Tomorrow, it's back to the old grind at the deli.

http://www.colourtest.ue-foundation.org

I took the color test- the results: (I picked orange, then the orange red, the yucky hot pink last of all)
Finds it difficult to bear the burdens of the present situation. Wants to be free of them. Wants to turn attention toward new types of experience that offer more hope. Expects that different circumstances will enhance potential freedom for wider range of experience.
(ultramarine blue/violet, midnight blue, warm tropical blue least appealing)
Does not want to allow any feeling of distance from the person who is valued as a partner to arise. Wants to avoid anything leading to personal isolation or loneliness. Wants to be totally immersed with intense enthusiasm and engaged communion in the beloved or a personal task and activity. Finds the beloved or the task to be what makes life worthwhile and its dominating force, bringing true contentment and fulfillment.

These color tests always baffle me. How can color preferences infer so much? I *always* would pick that shade of blue, unless I was in a very dark mood. Then it'd be midnight blue first. On the other hand, I can't really argue with it, arrgh.

While dragging a sledful of hay over moist snowless ground to feed the goats just now, I was thinking about this:

I sometimes feel that my past, my experiences, have marred me, left me a virtual minefield, like a surgical mess that the doctors gave up on and walked away from without bothering to suture it closed again. Or, putting it less kindly, fucked up. I sometimes look back on the things I've done, been, lived through, seen, and my life seems a little surreal. I'm certain that there are people who disbelieve that I could possibly have gone thorugh all this in 30 years, and for a moment, I'm tempted to agree with them and try to decipher whether I could possibly have imagined some of it? But no. The hard evidence is there, on scraps of paper, faded photographs, newspaper clippings, and the like.

I look at all this and wonder why anyone would want me, and also if I'm any good for anything at this point. (I'm not depressed right now, either- just trying to be objective). Don't men (the decent, intelligent sort) want someone pristine and untouched, who's never known love before, who's never tasted much pain, who's never awakened on the side of a highway or under a bush in a public park, someone dewy eyed and moist like an unfurling flower bud? Don't they desire someone who's never been violated, someone mallleable without a crystal clear idea of exactly what they *don't* want, next time?

I feel like a tree that's been hacked down to the stump, grown back, been girdled, survived, had limbs broken off, been frosted, sunburned, whipped by the wind....and I'm trying to decide if this makes me a damned ugly piece of work, or a arboreal sculpture, like bonsai.

I can get over the fact that life hasn't been perfect, that there've been evil or malicious people and those with good intentions and disastrous results. After all, it isn't like I can change any of it, so I might as well come to terms with it. What I can't quite hack is that, because of it, someone will come along and think I'm not good enough, that the past might spoil the future.

The painting- I never did mention the fact that it's of some sort of a bivalve. I could find out what species- the seashell book is upstairs. It's pure, pristine white on the inner surface, smooth and cleaner than milk. The hinge (arghh, I should find the technical/scientific term for it) is mauve/pink/purple depending on the light, the rim is edged in violet which curves sensuously into the white about halfway up both sides. It's really beautiful. I can't quite do it justice. Anyway- the painting. I found that the problem with it was the light. The bulbs we have installed are yellowish and dim, giving a cavelike atmosphere. I bought some special bulbs with a bluish tinge that reveal the true colors. When they're on, wow, what a difference. It's like having a physical weight lifted from you that you weren't even aware was there until it left. I love them. If I had my way, all the bulbs would be this sort. Unfortunately they aren't energy efficient. I actually have to run the generator if I want to turn *one* of these on (!). So the cavelike pall lingers on...

Obviously I wasn't going to be able to paint at night and get decent results if I couldn't even see the colors!! What looked reasonable in the amber dimness was positively horrid in the morning light. Geez... It wasn't my fault at all. So last night I installed the right light bulb and painted by that. The results are better. My technique leaves something to be desired for the subject (the blending is so delicate and subtle...) but I am 100% happier with it at this point. It isn't done yet.

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Work is going better. I've realized two things: my mood regarding the job is primarily influenced by who I've worked with, and that the strain of dealing with the other people (the other workers, I mean) is more stressful than the physical aspect. Today we cleaned the deep fryer. A word to the wise: don't eat deep fried food. Don't do that to yourself. Just imagine all that grease and crap lining the old coronaries, ew. I got a little magnetic chess set so I can play out openings during my breaks and lunch time. :>)

The notion that half an hour of my life is only worth about $2.57 depresses me....

I tend to think that people should be paid by the job, not by the clock. If more people used this system, quality and efficiency would improve. As it is, people are content to be sloppy and waste time at the employer's expense. Competition would ensure a certain amount of sniping and bitchiness, but also better results.

I think I mentioned the emergent bulbs- crown imperials, grape hyacinths, crocuses, daylilies (not really a bulb), and possibly daffodil and tulips. These are all just tips of foliage- no blooms at all yet. We should have scilla somewhere...huh. It should be up and blooming by now. I'll have to look for it tomorrow.

Hey, I've got the commenting option and trackback now. :-) I've wanted this for so long (as in, ever since I started the blog). I'm jazzed.Twasn't hard to do, either.

Another good thing I noticed today: The flowerbulbs are starting to emerge from the earth! I might actually have some blooming within a week or two. Spring! Spring!!!

(The job sucks but I decided to focus on positive things today and hopefully on other days too).

The painting is lame. Lame, lame, lame!!! It has not turned out as I wanted it to. It was the first thing I saw this morning, without my glasses. Looked at it for awhile, entertained limerent thoughts, looked at it again, and thought, hey, it looks OK- not perfect, but it has potential. Then I had to go and put the glasses on...

Called Vicki about the goats, just to make sure they were alright. It's kind of a drag to send them away just before the most exciting, rewarding time of the year: kidding season. Told her I felt terribly guilty, lke I'd abandoned them. Her reply, "Yes, you did abandon them, but you did it six months ago when you stopped taking care of them! You need to get your act together or else get rid of them!." Vicky's never been the type to tell you what you want to hear, she's pretty tactless and honest. (sidenote- for some bizarre reason, my closest, best friends are always blunt and tactless. Suppose I don't have any use for head games or trying to guess what someone else *really* thinks. Still, sometimes it's painful to have the truth shoved in your face.) I could whine, I could play helpless, but in my heart, I knew she was right, so I didn't. I didn't have the money, I didn't have dry ground for their feet, didn't have much time away from the kids so had to rush through chores and worst of all, I didn't have the heart for it when just living another day was a struggle. Yeah, I've definitely got to keep getting my act together.

I feel like an abject failure.....

The job is going better. I'm still a little inept and stumble my way through things, but I'm getting more familar with the routine and don't hide from the customers anymore. Believe it or not, I did have a purpose in mind with this job- that it would help me (force me) to get used to interacting with people. I'll probably still prefer to spend time only with a select few, but at least I'll be *able* to cope with other, including strangers, when I need to. Anyway- the other employess and staff are going out of their way to be nice to me, and I'm feeling a bit more positive about it now.

Books- Nietzsche, On the genealogy of Morals and Small Wonder by Barbara Kingsolver. Just started both of them. The former is taking me a while to get immersed in, but some of his ideas seem vaild and ring true. I love just about anything written by Barbara Kingsolver. There's a painitng I want to work on, so I'm signing off now.

I just sent 11 of my favorite does to be boarded with friends. It kind of tore me up to do it; some of them are due to kid within the month. I kept feeling as though I'd betrayed them somehow, even though it isn't permanent and I know that I can't adequately care for them right now. Those goaty faces peering over the sides of the horse trailer, expectantly, somewhat bewildered, haunt me. *sigh* When will I see them again? When will I care for them, pet them, milk them again? Will I see their kids? I don't know... All I can say at this point is that at least I'm not selling them, and Vicky will be feeding them up so they'll have be in good condition when they come into milk, which I've done every other year but couldn't this one.

:-(

This leaves... 10 goats total remaining here, and only one is due to kid in the next month or two. I kept her here because she'll be needing a C-section. She's.....9 years old this spring, a good old girl who's lived a long, faithful, productive life. A few years back, she had such a difficult birth that I was amazed she survived. Vicki was there to help or she would have died... So she lived and even managed to get pregnant again, but the birth left her with such scar tissue that her cervix doesn't dilate anymore, and it has to in order for kids to emerge naturally. I *should* retire her. The problem is that she's dear to my heart and has many good traits, and I have only one daughter to show for her entire lifetime with me. I want at least one and preferably two more daughters. Last year the C-section yielded triplet bucks, arrrgh!!! She looks like she's got another huge set of triplets in there now (please, please, at least one doe this time!). She's due the 13th. Believe it or not, I'm still paying off the vet for last years C-sections (another doe had to be done as well). It runs about $250 per goat. Not bad if there's at least one doe kid, but kind of a loss if they're all bucks. Another thing: last year I hauled her in the trunk of the Oldmobile- Hey! it was an emergency, OK??? This year, it'd be nice to arrange something more pleasant for her.
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The job is going about as well as can be expected. I can't complain- it's a job, they're decent to me, and they're incredibly patient with my bungling attempts to learn the ropes. Still, it doesn't pay well, and there's just no way I can get ahead like this without resorting to child care. I haven't heard back about the other job, but this is likely due to the fact that I'm out of the house much of the time during business hours, or online. In all honesty, what will I say if they call and want me to start right away? I guess I'd say 'OK, I'll be there' and then tear my hair out trying to find a way to make it all work.
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Books- just finished Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams. The title alone cracks me up...ha. I loved this book from start to finish, but I've had a hard time arousing interest or even amusement from anyone else regarding it. *shrug* For example:

The Electric Monk was a labor saving device, like a dishwasher or video-recorder. Dishwashers washed tedious dishes for you, thus saving you the trouble of washing them yourself, video recorders watched tedious television for you, thus saving you the bother of looking at it yourself; Electric Monks believed things for you, thus saving you from what was becoming an increasingly onerous task, that of believing all the things the world expected you to believe. Unfortunately this Electric Monk had developed a fault, and had started to believe all kinds of things, more or less at random.

See, I think that's hilarious. I love it. Ah, if only life were that simple, eh?

I just saw the movie Cold Mountain. It left me feeling as though a file had rasped across my soul, raw and sore. I'd read the book so there weren't many surprises; though I love the portrayal of Ruby, the best actor in the film, IMHO. It wasn't what I needed to see, to be honest. I had a really great day and now I feel depressed and empty inside again.

::sigh::...OK- trying to recapture the great part of the day: I went to another job interview and I'm 99% certain that I got it. I have to take a drug test first, which of course I'll pass. Child care issues still need to be resolved but it looks as though it could very well develop into a long term, reliable, good paying source of income. Oh! The important part of it: the job is caring for and working with handicapped and developmentally disabled children and adults. See, putting in time and getting paid for it just isn't enough in my book. Call me particular, but I like to feel as though what I'm doing *counts* for something, and this really does. I'll be happier doing this than I'd be if I were getting paid $1000 an hour to stare at a spot on the wall for 8 hours a day. There are all sorts of good things about this job. Once I can relax about the child care issues, I'll be tickled pink

I scouted out the thrift stores in Sdpt, but they were picked over and overpriced. Stupid trite romance novels abound, UGH! If ever a book were banned, they should ban cheap, trashy, idiotic books of that genre. Isn't it hard enough to forge a worthwhile relationship without filling one's head full of cotton candy foolishness?? Horror stories turn me off too: as if I couldn't dream up enough awful gory things, as if there weren't enough war and blood and gore and pain in real life, I need to read someone's fantasy of it? Thanks but no. Biographies- these can be interesting; but it occurred to me today that one person's account of life can be entirely different from that of another party living through the same experiences. The Poisonwood Bible comes to mind. In a way, an autobiography can be almost another form of fiction. I think it's safe to say that I like for whatever I read to make me *think* or to offer another perspective to consider. Anyway, long story short, I have only one Douglas Adams book to show for about an hour of scouting. I did find one I'd wanted- the Kama Sutra, but it was too expensive, about $18, ouch!! At that price, I can scout around on Ebay or wait until it surfaces for a lower price somewhere else. The bright side is that I did find a place where I can trade in the books I don't sell on Ebay for other books that I want, or one tenth of the list price if I want cash.

Bleh. I'm exhausted. I got the job at the grocery store and today was my second day at it. The first day went well, lots to learn, and my head was spinning a little, but I absorbed it quickly enough. Today I knew the routine a little better. They've got me working in the deli and bakery. I could complain about the gal I worked with today (slacker!) but you know, I'm just too tired. :-P

My blood sugar keeps diving and leaving me feeling lightheaded and so dizzy that I feel like passing out. The deal is that I don't have enough excess fat left to burn off when I forget to eat, and to be honest, I don't eat much because I'm rarely hungry. When I am hungry, it's for meat or other protein foods, fairly rare around here. Anyway- I had an interview on Monday but got so funky that I was afraid to drive- had two very close calls locally- so moved it to tomorrow. :note to self: Eat! Do not neglect regular insertion of food into mouth!

One of the jobs I do at the deli is breading chicken to be deep fried. I never noticed it before, but the pink unbreaded flaps of skin and flesh look oddly, umm....labia-like. It was kind of a shock the first time I noticed it. No, I *don't* have a dirty mind. YOU bread a few cut pieces of chicken with skin and fat hanging down, take a good look, and then get back to me, if you think so! Besides, I don't think of sex or gentials as dirty.

What is dirty:

• Acting stupid and hung up about sex
• Using sex as a mean of aggression and dominance
• Teaching people that it's shameful or dirty (yeah, they always say it's private, or *special*, not dirty, but the proof's in the pudding, dear.)
• Hurting people in or with an area that was intended to be sensitive and intimate
• Attempting to pretend that sex really doesn't exist
• Expressing hostility towards women through sex (would include most porn, IMO)
• any combination of sex and a control trip
• any combination of sex and humiliation

OK, I'm done for now. See, I just got this book- Erotic Art by Taschen (I think that's the title), and I'm a little dismayed about it. Looking through these paintings, I'm appalled at the amount of violence and hatred that I see in these pages. Many of them are not what I consider erotic, they're dirty (see above). Do men really hate women that much? Is that really the way they view women and sex? Ew... :considers lesbianism for a very brief moment: What I'd like to see now is a book of erotic art by women. It'd be an interesting comparison, because only a few- a very few- of the paintings in this book are by female artists. To be continued....

Been picking up some great books lately, and I find a new source (of used books) every few days. There's an animal shelter combined with a thrift store - both recent additions to our small town. To be honest, I've tended to view animal shelters with a degree of scorn. There are so many needy people out there, including children, and even if you don't much like people there are other causes to devote time and energy to that seem more worthy. There are TOO MANY cats and dogs running around the world. It ticks me off. People get so stupid about them. Oh, all right. I get stupid about the goats. Before the goats I did have cats and dogs (the goats surpass them in so many areas that four legged house pets aren't appealing anymore) and I was pretty danged stupid/feely about felines and some canines. I used to spend inordinate amounts of time working with animals that had almost no practical use and drained off large sums of money for pet food and shat all over the yard or in the garden. I don't miss them. ~Anyway~ it irks me to see some family stuggling to get by, on welfare or barely able to eke out a living, that has 7-8 dogs and a whole fleet of mousers. You see dirty little kids pawing through a litter box or having food snatched out of their hands, the barking is incessant, and wonder where the priorities are...

Then there are the folks who get tired of a pet and just turn it loose any old place, often out in the country, because they haven't got the balls to do what they should, namely, to put it down. The forsaken pets wander around lost, unhappy, bewildered, get run over, go scrounging for food... get picked up and advertised day after day as lost on the radio...or sometimes resort to running stock or raiding henhouses...how much misery do they endure before they're finally shot or adopted or sent to an animal shelter? (Where, by the way, the cycle may start all over again). A bullet is quick, clean, merciful, and leaves no room for false hopes or fantasies of a lovely life for poor old Fido.

So I go into this place, which I'd never have visited were there not books there; there are stacks of free postcards- glossy with either a puppy or a cute kitten- that read SPAY- NEUTER. I felt like applauding. Suddenly I felt that we had something in common after all. I think there are too damned many unwanted pets running around proliferating. The animal shelter is devoted to helping to solve the problem. Why the bad attitude on my part? As I left, we looked at the caged cats through the window. A tortoiseshell tom was nestled in one. I could tell it was a male, because his tail was a mere stump, truncated right next to the body, exposing his sex. The shaved appendage had stitches. Frostbite? A slamming door? A mean man or kid slinging it out the door by the tail, breaking it? A dog attack? Poor thing. I wanted to take it home.... :blush:

.....stagnation.....stagnation.....stagnation.....
I fully realize that I've become decidedly disagreeable in the past few years. I'm not really into apologizing for it. Consider: when has change towards my goals and wants (yes that sounds selfish but I'll use it because it's the truth) ever resulted from my being compliant? _Never_ When I've gone along for the ride, swallowed my doubts or misgivings or what I *really* wanted, I ended up in some pretty unpleasant fixes. When I've had the nerve to makes changes happen, and screw what anyone thinks of it (within reason,OK?) that's when I've been able to say: "This is what I wanted. Now I have it."

Otherwise I just sort of float along on someone else's river, going wherever they take me, waterfalls, rapids, boulders, whatever, too bad. I am just fucking sick and tired of that. Noone else is *entitled* to my life, it's mine. When it's screwed up, will they care? No. If I'm not happy and they are, will they care? No, not as long as they can maintain the illusion that I'm happy. They get pissed if I do that. The bottom line is that as long as my condition causes no direct unhappiness to the other party, they care not a whit what's going on from my perspective. So who's selfish? Me, for wanting to run my own life? Hey, I've got no interest at all in running anyone else's. I just don't want to waste another day being unproductive and unhappy, feeling like I've frittered my life away catering to the dictates of other people.

So yes, I'm contrary and obstinate. My life depends on it.