Drunk.

Today, at 9:38 this morning, while I was shopping for my groceries, my dad called from an ambulance.

Some jerk, drunk as a skunk at 9 am on a Sunday morning, blew through a red light and very nearly killed my daddy.

Somehow Dad walked away from it. Black and blue from the seat belt and the airbag, and only slightly cut up. His new truck is beyond repair. Dad, as usual, was totally stoic and calm.

I hope with everything I have to hope with that the other guy is seriously injured, that this ruins his career, tears apart his family, and leaves his life in tatters. That probably makes me a bad person, but really, I'm okay with that.

People shouldn't be able to hurt my dad. That should be somehow against the rules.



I wrote a much longer, and far more eloquent post on the subject earlier, but decided against posting it. I'm still not sure why. But this one seems appropriate somehow.


The day took the wind out of me. I'm emotionally exhausted and I've spent the whole of the day sleeping on the couch. I just woke up, all I intend to do is move from the couch to my bed, and continue sleeping.

I hope dad sleeps okay tonight. I hope that he's not in too much pain tomorrow.

And that, Dear Friend, is all I know.

Song of the Day

God I love Ani. This one is one of my favorites. This whole album is one of my favorites. One of my many, many favorites. Because lets face it, I love pretty much everything the woman has ever done. :P

I'm just a sucker for a good song. All sorts of them. All the days.



two-thirty in the morning
and my gas tank will be empty soon
neon sign on the horizon
rubbing elbows with the moon
a safe haven of sleepless
where the deep fryer's always on
radio is counting down
the top 20 country songs
and out on the porch the fly strip is
waving like a flag in the wind
y'know, i don't look forward
to seeing you again soon
you'll look like a photograph of yourself
taken from far far away
and i won't know what to do
and i won't know what to say

except fuck you...

Song of the Day

I've had this song on a loop for days and days. A continuous, back to back kind of a loop that consumes all of my free time. Not the casual, several times a day kind of loop, but the serious, I don't want to hear anything but this song sort of thing.

This whole album is kind of emotionally loaded for me, in a way that I never really think about until I somehow remember I own it every couple of years and dredge up all sorts of strange and half forgotten memories. Memories from before SWSNBN, and the napalming of the majority of my 20's.

Of all Eminem's songs, this one is probably my favorite. Or at least the one I'm most obsessive about listening to.




I'm a soldier, these shoulders hold up so much
They won't budge, I'll never fall or fold up
I'm a soldier, even if my collar bone's crush or crumble
I will never slip or stumble
I'm a soldier, these shoulder's hold up so much
They won't budge, I'll never fall or fold up
I'm a soldier, even if my collar bone's crush or crumble
I will never stumble

The Crux.

So here it is, the crux of my problem: (or at least, the current crux, or possibly only what I believe to be the current crux, but is actually not a crux at all, or possibly something else altogether, who knows.)

I'm having trouble moving in time and space.

I feel like I've spent so long, so, so, soooooo long standing still, so many long, meaningless years, that I didn't know how to start moving again. This time last year, when I gave myself my life back again, I just sort of sprinted out of the gates without any sort of direction. Everything just felt like up, and so I ran with it. But now, now I look back on all those years of hemorrhaged time and realize that I gave up so many wonderful things, and among them was my ability to move forward meaningfully.

How do I get from here to anywhere else?

What if I just keep spinning here? Treading water? Forever?

That's what I can't sort out.

All of the other things, feeling alien, like there isn't space for people like me, people like us, in this world, is just the result of trying to grapple with the physics of it all. I'm stuck in some sort of whirlpool. I battle and battle and battle, but no matter how hard I work, I still feel like I'm circling the same place.

Maybe this is the underlying theme of everyone's late 20's. The post-college melt-down, or some such nonsense. Maybe I just don't interact enough with other people to notice that we're all fighting the same battles. Or maybe it's just me, spinning gleefully in circles, unable to determine how to get to the next phase.


I've spent all day thinking about it, and that's as far as I've gotten.
For whatever it's worth.





Today was a challenging day. I was frustrated and irritable and at times downright pissed off. The sad part is, that I feel like I got more accomplished today that I have all month. I hate that anger is such a productive force with me, it's like the whole world sees Hurricane LittleFoot coming and just starts getting shit done in the hopes that it won't level their houses. I don't know how I feel about that, but I like that a great many issues got resolved today.

Until next time,
All my love.

Wet Beaver Creek

Photo update, as promised from the journey through Wet Beaver Creek. :)

повторенье – мать ученья

The animals, the animals
Trapped, trapped, trapped 'till the cage is full
The cage is full
Stay awake
In the dark, count mistakes
The light was off but now it's on
Searching the ground for a bitter song
The sun is out, the day is new
And everyone is waiting, waiting on you
And you've got time

I've been watching Orange is the New Black all day. Consuming it really. And laughing. And crying. And thinking. Lots of thinking.

I'm in such a weird place right now, and I'm so grateful to have you to support me while I muddle through it. I can't even articulate how much all of your text messages help me, especially when they are about trivial things.

I know I seem like I obsess less than you, but really I think I obsess more, I just do it silently. You always help break up my thoughts, give me time to gain perspective before I fall back into the abyss of my mind. It's a marvelous gift, really.

I don't know that I'm any better off than I was yesterday, but the place I'm in seems less abysmal and more mine. That feels like progress.

I've been trying to crochet on and off for a couple of days now. My problem is that when practicing single crochet, which is the only thing I've managed to even sort-of learn, my rows get shorter and shorter every time. This is baffling to me. When I was learning to knit, I had the opposite problem, my rows always got longer. This shrinking vexes me. In addition, some of my stitches are clearly all twisted up and generally incorrect (these muddled stitches only add to the shortening problem, intensifying my disdain). I am unsure how to rectify this at this juncture, but I think about it constantly, and am continually crocheting (rather poorly, but crocheting nonetheless) and unraveling the same four inch square of fabric.

повторенье – мать ученья, as the proverb goes.

Think of all the roads
Think of all their crossings
Taking steps is easy
Standing still is hard
Remember all their faces
Remember all their voices
Everything is different
The second time around



In other news, Regina Spektor's voice always feels like a warm blanket. I want to wrap myself in it, all the days.

Song of the Day

Better.

Feeling much better today. Not back to normal better, but distinctly less bad.

I had a long chat with Dad last night, and another this morning, both of which helped immensely with my stress related issues.

Writing here, and on your space helped with my other issues.

The fact that the week is over, and that I've completed the last of my double days is also a huge relief.

I've got a long weekend of hiking ahead of me, something I'm very excited for. I'm hoping the outside places flush what's left of the turmoil out of my bones. I promise to take lots of pictures for you.

I'll upload the monsoon videos for you tonight. Pinky promise.

All my love.

Time.

This time today, two years ago, we were packing your bags as a monsoon storm raged around us.

I should never have packed up those boxes.
I should have stood firm in the doorway and refused to let you go.
I carry more guilt over that than I should.
It wasn't my fault any more than it was yours.
What else would we have done?
When there were no good solutions?
Or even, any solutions at all...
It was a room with no windows and only one door.
But when I think back on it I somehow manage to almost convince myself that there were other options.

I am extra lost today.
In the middle of some sort of life-crisis that I am unable to resolve.
Panic-y and crying.
Wishing things were different.
All sorts of things.
Most of my life, really.
But also, not.

I'm not unhappy,
I'm just in transition.
And transitions are always hard for me.

And by hard, I mean that they feel as if they are impossible to survive. And yet, I always do.

I talked with my dad for a long time today. He made me feel somewhat better, but there's a bitter knot of anxiety eating a hole in me that nothing will be able to fill for today.

I am mourning your departure more than I need to, in part because it allows me to mourn for something without having to dwell on the transition I'm in the middle of. Or at least I think that's what's going on.

That or it's all just hormones running amok.

I don't know.
I don't know anything definitively today.
I'm lost in thought, but don't have enough information yet to come to any conclusions.

I've been reading In The First Circle on and off, which makes me feel better and worse simultaneously. And also desperately trying to master the art of crochet. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making the same mistake continuously I'm sure. But I think my spirit may be a little too broken today for much learning to take place. Perhaps that's the root of my problem.

In other news, Laurids, my dino bichir is getting big. He was such a little thing for so long. When I looked at him today I was shocked to see how big he is now. He will need to be moved to the larger tank soon.

Emery is back, and depressed at her lack of access to the outside places, as well as the loss of the pool to swim in at her leisure. Oscar seems pleased with his new haircut, uneven as it may be. Mittens is just pleased not to have been confined to the kennel all day.

I desperately need a bath...and possibly a lobotomy. ;)

I miss your face.

Double-double-what!

Mleh, I say! Mleh.

With three weeks of double shifts behind me, (and all the construction to boot!) it's safe to say I've abandoned any semblance of adulthood, and reverted to my natural, bear-like state.

I should take the time to say that they aren't true double shifts, not in the eight hours at one, then eight hours at the other sense of the word. Instead they're sort of a hodgepodge of do all the work twice in as little time as possible-ness and endless driving. Which makes them, time-wise, more like a shift and a half, or a shift and a quarter, only with a million times the physical/mental exertion.

I love stress. I really do. I function really well when I'm challenged. My optimum function level is just a hair below the this-is-way-too-much stress trigger line. What this means is that I'm a machine when loaded with work...right up until I'm not. And then it's all over.

Yesterday was apparently the day my energy stores topped out. I just woke up totally out of spoons.

I could feel it coming on the night before. The sickly, you're-about-to-lose-your-shit feeling welling up inside of me. My reluctance to return home was a massive red flag. The fact that my toilet was leaking when I returned home may very well have been the final straw. Someone had been there to look at it, but now there was just a rag tied around the leaky pipe and a baseball cap on the counter.

All I know is I went to bed and woke up yesterday a thoroughly broken person. I was angry. Just horribly disgruntled, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I felt miserable on top of that. My back hurt and my ankle was all puffed up, that ever growing cyst staring back at me. The cats refused to be wrangled in the morning. I didn't have time to eat. I didn't get to finish my coffee. By the time R showed up to work I was pacing around, trying and failing to get things done.

There was just so much to do.

More than that, I wasn't able to do any of it. Some of it due to lack of time, some a lot of it due to not having the information or the power to get things done. All sorts of little things mocked me. I descended into the bowels of the sneaky hate spiral. R tried his damnedest to help me, but really, I was just beyond help.

It was a tire fire. Sometimes you just have to let it burn.

I left for the other hospital and called my dad. I cried and yelled and railed long against the night. So many things were unjust or unfair or just plain wrong and I couldn't stand it. None of the things that were wrong were fixable, and I HATE when problems don't have solutions. All problems should have solutions. Simple, straight forward, easily implementable solutions. I should clearly have power over all things, and all things should work they way I want them to. I dislike that they don't. Some days that's harder to deal with than others.

By the time I arrived to job number two I was feeling...not better per-say, but more like I could hold it together -so long as no one asked me what was the matter or tired to talk to me- than I did when I left.

They day went along alright. I was angry, but not altogether unpleasant. I smiled, or at least I tried to, and chatted with other people, albeit, much less than I normally might have. Things went along pretty well until Boss Lady came in. I love the Boss Lady, and damn it, I just want to spill my guts out to her all the time. I am a complicated monster, and I make so little sense to so many people, but Boss Lady just gets it. Even when she doesn't. Much like my dad. Unfortunately, this makes it difficult for me to refrain from spilling my guts out when we get time alone. I subsequently gave her the brief run down of things I was angry about, which for the record, was all things. It did not make me feel better. Mostly it just reminded me that I was in fact, angry and that there was a long list of things I was angry about. It also may have stressed Boss Lady out a bit, I'm not sure. I knew better, but it couldn't be stopped.

I was exhausted. Hungry. In pain. Frustrated. All sorts of things. And no matter what I did, it was spilling out all over the place.

I left job two to head back to job one and finish up my work. R was a saint, and had done most of it for me while I was away. He made me feel slightly better, only because he noted that I looked exhausted, and for the most part, didn't poke at me.

I went home that night to find my goldfish were dead. As I flushed my little fish friends, I noticed rag and cap were still in the bathroom. This was just the last straw. I called the office in tears. I was calm and polite, but the anger and frustration was still evident in my voice no matter how kindly I spoke. the woman told me the issue had been resolved the day before. I told her there was a rag tied around the pipe, and someone had left their hat here, and for the past four weeks I had put up with an insufferable amount of construction and people I don't know crawling around my apartment, tearing up my walls and touching my stuff and I was really REALLY tired, and I just wanted my house back. She was very kind, and said she would make sure everyone was out of my place the following day.

I promptly passed out.

I woke up today feeling better, but still not right. I hurt more than the day before, and my mood was still low, but things got done today, which was victory.

I worked all day and then I picked up my sweet dog, who I have missed more than I can describe. I hung out with my dad for a while, and came home. As promised, the construction is finished on my apartment, and I can make it mine again.

I tried to shave Oscar, but it turns out that he has far more hair than even I had anticipated. His hair is much shorter, but he is by no means, shaved.

I meant to put my house back together today, but I thought, mleh. Instead I'm going to sit on the couch. I meant to go grocery shopping, but I decided I can live on ramen and fish sticks for another week. I was going to put the laundry away, but I decided it was easier not to. I was going to do the dishes, but realized it required standing, and moving my limbs. I was going to read more Solzhenitsyn, but I decided the book was too far away, and full of too many words.

Instead I've been sitting around in my unds, eating fish sticks, and not doing anything of import. I sat down to write this note to you, and it's turned into a novel again, somehow, and I lack the energy to finish it now. Lol.

I guess that's the way of things. I'm hoping tomorrow I wake up with more spoons. I'm hoping my sunny disposition is back. I'm hoping I can drink enough coffee to power me through these last two days of doubles. And I'm hoping I pass out as soon as I publish this.

I have more to say, but not enough time or energy to type it out. Plus, this is more than long enough already.

I miss you terribly Dear Friend, as always.
Come visit me soon.

All my love,
LittleFoot.

Monsoon Season...

...is officially upon us.

I'm so sorry for the sporadic nature of my posts, Dear Friend. Things here have been chaos. I've been working shifts at both hospitals every day, and the construction at my house continues. I'm exhausted and I miss my dog terribly.

I had a really good day at work today, but my good mood started to run out towards the ends. I left work to drive home, but instead headed the opposite way, out into the mountains. I was hoping the drive would ease my mind.

I considered, briefly, stopping to buy some water and just hiking until my legs gave out. But scrubs are poor hiking attire. Also, the horizon was filled with monsoon clouds. Instead I just drove. Initially I had just planned to drive out a little ways and get a decent picture of the Superstitions. This plan, however, was hampered by billions of low hanging telephone wires and trailer homes. Eventually I abandoned that plan.

I drove out to Peralta Trail and meandered around. It was stunning. The sun was streaming through the last of the puffy clouds, and the monsoons were starting to roll in from the south. I stopped periodically to take pictures. There are these marvelous hanging chain cholla trees out that way, and as I am currently enamored with them, I figured they would make me feel better. It both did and didn't.

I'm just surrounded with a sense of unease these days. I'm pretty sure it's a result of the construction in my house. I really dislike having people in my home, particularly people I don't know. The fact that they're in there when I'm not doesn't help. Neither does the on going complications and continuous delays. Additionally, the majority of my things are packed up at the moment, and so it doesn't even feel like home right now.

At some point I realized that the monsoon storms were nearly upon me. I was miles out on a dirt road, one littered with washes, still muddy from the last big storm, in my tiny little Mazda. Not exactly a great place to be on a beautiful July day in the desert. I turned around and headed back.

The storm was just ahead of me now, and dumping rain on the desert. I hit the wind and sand just as soon as I made it back to the freeway. All the overheads warned of low visibility. As I made my way back into East Mesa the rain started. Thick, heavy drops. Between the wind, the dust, and the rain it was very difficult to see. As usual, the roads immediately began flooding slightly. I made my way out of the storm, only to find that there were two more in between where I was and home. Each storm was more intense than the last. The final one was nearly impossible to drive through. I was going less than 20 mph on the freeway, visibility was less than 20 ft, and the wind was gale-force at just over 60 mph. I got stuck in a really intense downburst just shy of Mill, and torrential rain. I can't even remember the last time I saw rain like that. Apparently this storm just tore everything apart, the radio was reporting 5,000 homes would be without power until at least midnight. Yikes! It was the kind of storm I know you would have appreciated. It was beautiful and destructive, and made everything smell like wet desert and asphalt.

I made it home to find that I still had power, but the new leak issue had not been resolved today. They had clearly been working on it, as there was an additional towel on the floor, one that did not belong to me, (as well as some tools and a baseball cap) but nothing to indicate when the work might be finished. Additionally, the fish tank in my bedroom was uncovered, which concerns me. Although the most reasonable explanation is that the sheet simply slipped off of it, as it is prone to doing, in my mind I'm at least partially convinced that people were going through my house and touching my stuff.

And that, Dear Friend, THAT is all I know.

I'm exhausted, and I'm falling asleep even as I type this.
I hope things are well up there in the land of trees and fog.
I hope that you're missing the monsoons at least a little.
And I'm hoping that the glory that is this desert life, will draw you home again.
Give Phil my love.
<3

Song of the Day

Just a quick note to say...

I suspect I may now be developing a ganglion cyst in my broken ankle. It doesn't hurt at all...yet, any way. Or rather, it only hurts where it is broken. The cyst part is mostly just...squishy. Right now I'm hoping it resolves on its own. My resolve not to see a doctor is still as steely as ever.

Miss your face.

July, July

Ah, Dear Friend, we are rapidly approaching the anniversary of your departure. I'm hoping that the first big monsoon storm of the season falls on that day, though I think it will probably arrive beforehand. Remember that crazy dust storm that night?

Anywho, it was reasonably cool today, only 102, but because the monsoons are approaching it's humid. I worked a million hours again. Like you, I've thrown myself into work. I'm probably working more than is reasonable, but between the construction in my apartment and the...July-ness of everything, it seems appropriate.

I desperately need a shower. My water has been of for two days due to construction, and I was too lazy on Sunday following the pool party to wash myself. The result is that I haven't had a proper shower since BEFORE the party. I did however, manage to scrub all the crisco off myself. (Did I mention we inexplicably coated a watermelon in crisco? Because we did. And then plunked it into the pool. I'm sure you would have appreciated the randomness of it all.)

I think the construction in my place is almost done, or at least I hope it is. They were testing the sprinklers today, or at least I assume they were because my bathroom floor is slightly flooded. They've replace the drywall in the 17 holes in my ceiling, and I'm just waiting for the last inspection, texturing, and painting. It will probably take at least another week. I'm ready to have my house back, and I miss my dog terribly.

I think that's all the news from this half of the world. Give Phil a hug for me. Miss you both, always.

Song of the Day.

Song of the Day

Following days of Trina talk, I've fallen down the ridiculous music rabbit hole that is youtube. In the interest of all things ridiculous and vapid, I present you with today's song of the day.

I got the swag and it's pumping out my ovaries

Mommy Issues.

Last week my sister posted a picture of my birth mother in instagram. I didn't even vaguely recognize her, and in fact, might not have ever realized that it was her had I not gone back through my sisters posts in an attempt to find a video of my dog. In the preceding post she mentioned taking a road trip with our mother (*shudders*) which was what tipped me off. I'm still in truth, not entirely certain the the picture IS of her, which pleases me immensely.

If it is her, it means that I officially no longer remember what she looks like.

This is perhaps the greatest revelation of all my life.

I have never in my life, felt as liberated as I do right now. This is progress. It might not seem like it to some people, but to me it is evidence that I can forget. If I can forget what she looks like, then it stands to reason that given enough time I can forget her altogether. That one day I won't remember the sound of her voice. That I won't hear her whispering how much she hates me when my life feels like it is unraveling. And perhaps most importantly, one day I won't be haunted by the dreams.

Speaking of dreams, I had the new fire dream again. I feel like this is evidence that I'm moving forward. Hopefully this one will replace the one where she murders me over her grave.

It goes like this.

I'm a small child, maybe four or five, and I'm playing in a house with my parents (my sister is not home). Eventually I realize the house is on fire, but nobody seems concerned. Everyone is very calm and mostly going about their business. I am very calmly taking items that are of value to me out of the house, one by one. Among them are my teddy bear, my dad's record player, my books, and all the pictures of Dad and I that I can find. Eventually, when I've rescued all the things that matter to me, I sit down in the yard and look up at the sky. Dad joins me shortly thereafter. My mother walks out of the burning house, looks at me, and then calmly walks back inside. She closes the door behind her and the house is engulfed in flames. I look up at my dad and ask him why mom went back inside and he tells me she isn't coming back. He pats me on the back and says everything is going to be okay. She would rather burn alive than love me, and that it isn't my fault.

This dream is sadder than the other ones, mostly because my dad finally admits what I've known all along, that she isn't capable of loving me. I am both heartbroken by having to hear it spoken aloud, and incredibly relieved. Somehow my pain is recognized and validated and I no longer have to carry the weight of this knowledge on my own. On the other hand, it is much less terrifying than the other one, plus she's the one who dies instead of me (I really dislike it when I die in my dreams). I feel like this is better, but it might be too soon to say.

The point of all this is, that today I know (for the first time) that one day I will wake up and none of this will matter. The day will come when I won't see any of her features when I look in the mirror, I won't carry around any of the bitterness she worked so hard to instil in me, and I won't care that she (for whatever reason) wasn't capable of loving me. More than that, I won't fear that I will become her, and I won't be afraid that I will hate my own children with the inexplicable voracity with which she hated me. All of the beautiful things in my life will slowly eclipse the memory of her until one day it will just cease to exist.

I am elated.

For today at least, this feels a lot like hope.
I like hope.