Gotta find something... no, there it is

I should be in bed. I went to a movie with a friend and it gave me a bit of a boost. Between having seen that movie before and not getting enough sleep pretty much all week, I ended up taking an hour long nap. Afterwards I had to sit there and try to figure out how to rehydrate my eyes. All is well. And irrelevant.

I waited until the very last minute to get my album returned to B&N. I had an extended amount of time due to buying it around the holidays. Thinking it was more than enough time, I kept putting it off. I literally waited until the very last day of the extension to remember to take it back. At least I didn't forget it entirely.

I don't have a good transition for this next topic. We'll just say I'm discussing my day. Anywho, a downside of not living alone*: I feel the urge to indulge in music at the oddest times. Like now. Very late in the evening. I've also woken up very early in the morning (like 5 AM, early) and had a sing off with myself. I won every singing competition EVER that morning. Back to now. Everyone else has gone to bed. The person that shares a wall with me, a thin wall with me, has to get up early in the morning. Fortunately, deep sleepers are not scarce here. I'm in my room with an album playing. An album that only stirs in me the desire to sing along. At a range that means I have to sing louder to get the song out properly. I am a bit obnoxious in that way.

I often have dreams of being more musical than I am. I have dreams about going to parties that have sing-alongs. Being in a room with other musically inspired people playing the guitar. Accompanying each other. Different dreams feature a pianist. Sometimes I'm the pianist. I once had this elaborate dream that involved me having a troubled child that was at his most calm only when he sat on the piano bench with me for hours listening to me play. It got him through his troubled teens. I'd listen to the radio and play along to give my skills a healthy flex. Even once he became an adult, our hours of sitting next to each other while I played the piano were frequent and sometimes the only way he could rationally think through his problems. He was a serious mama's boy and I was pretty skilled in that dream.

There is one dream where I was not Sara Bareilles, but in her shoes in the process of working out one of her songs. I've had the lounge singer dream. Soulful music coming from the band behind me. Even if people weren't enthralled by my singing, I was always far too wrapped up in the song to notice. In real life, music is with me when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. Like reading, it has the power to transport me to other places. Nothing has the power to calm me down or amp me up like music. It's my all time favorite thing in the world, second only to laughing.

Hmm. That was a roundabout entry for me to get my bearings to gush about my love for music.

*I realize I say I'm discussing my day then move right into a broad subject of simply being me.

I said that things may not go smoothly

I feel that with my computer being seven years old, that we may not make it together to the end of this year's project. Right now, as I try to type this it is lagging behind me because it's spending two minutes to open it's own files. I'm trying to clear up space by deleting unnecessary items from my download folder. Talk about frustrating. First she doesn't respond.* Then she decided to be overly sensitive and copy some items because I wasn't careful enough in lifting my finger as I tried to highlight items. Then something I did almost published this post when I wasn't done writing it. I have no idea what that was.

My iTunes isn't working. I'm about to be in my third time installing it to see if I can do something about that. This, of course, happens right when I get a voucher for two free downloads. A little bit frustrated about that. I have things to do and the words "Not Responding" and I are becoming old friends. I see them so often, I might as well take them out to dinner. I should go to school for working on computers because not knowing what to do when you gateway to the internet craps out on you can be is the height of frustration.

iTunes installer is "Not Responding." The day this poor computer stops coming on may be drawing closer to me than I would like to believe. I'm feeling so defeated right now. Now I'll have to find something to extol tomorrow. Just because I needed to have a moan today.


*My computer is a girl. Her name is Shelley.

Down and then up

Yesterday I decided to be confrontational without actually facing the person. I've been told that I need to be more confrontational at times. Sara Bareilles' Brave was totally calling me out with John Mayer in the background telling me to say what I need to say. Not really, though it feels that way. Anywho, yesterday I was bitter and angry. Now I have to pay it forward and find something that makes me happy and gush about it.

Tonight I spent the with my mother and sister. It was the final tutoring session for math. My mother's final is tomorrow. She made spaghetti whilst my sister and I acted ridiculous. We talked about the work. I tried to convince my mother that I pierced my nose in spite of that not being conducive for me keeping my job. As the night progressed I found myself reenacting a slow-mo dance sequence from Dirty Dancing with my mother. Later my sister and I threw a concert singing along to Motown hits. This was the ongoing sideshow to me double checking the work my mother knows how to do.

What's more, I was able to share my current obsession. YouTube. I forced them to watch twins high-fiving each other just because I found it funny. Then I went on to watch way too many videos and almost had my sister committed to watching daily vlogs. I told her not to because it's a whole that you'll fall into and never get out. It was a good night, full of dancing, great food and better laughter.

Disappointment

We all have to deal with it. It's a part of life. Some people handle it swimmingly. Others not so much. I'm in the latter group.

I'm not good at having things go the way I pictured. While I can't say that I've dealt with this all of my life, I can say it's been one of my issues for a while. From not handling college they way I thought I could to not getting the jobs I want, I tend to sink pretty deep into my head when I fail.

It isn't that I don't like trying for things. I understand that working for something makes you appreciate it more. I do, however, find it hard to be motivated at times when the odds are too high against me. There was a different general message I was trying to deliver but I distracted myself with an earlier comment. So instead allow me to directly attack something else.

Since I was too lost to properly motivate myself through college, I hate to hear people say that college isn't worth it. All I wanted was to graduate from college. Maybe not all. I wanted training for a career. I wanted the college experience. I wanted the ability to live up to the "potential" I showed in high school. Wanted? I want those things. I understand that you can go to college and feel it's a waste when you find yourself working grunt jobs with thousands of dollars in debt to show for it. I don't feel that way. Sure the debt is daunting. For someone who feels like she failed, I don't want to hear people who made it saying that it doesn't mean anything.

So, some context for my rant. I recently heard a conversation between a college grad and a soon to be high school grad. The high school grad was excited about the new things to come, specifically college. Just happy to be moving on with their life and getting out of the nest to experience new things. The college grad, bogged down by their own lost feeling through college, let the soon to be freshman know that college wasn't worth it. Just a waste of money really. I was infuriated. Part of my anger was to one of the things I hated the most was people loading me down with everything that could go wrong as if I wasn't already nervous about life changing. The other part was that I failed where you succeeded. I tried, it was too hard and I came back with my tail between my legs with everyone who expected me to succeed looking on in disappointment. I didn't make it. You did. You persisted and graduated. Why did you work so hard for something that wasn't worth it? It's gotten to a point that I may forever be too afraid to try again because I can't find a definitive path that will keep me focused and motivated. That isn't your problem. YOU GRADUATED!

I, the one with all of the potential, failed. You, the college graduate, struggled yet made it through to graduation. It's not worth it? We could trade places, as no one appreciates a victory as much as the loser. In the meantime, please refrain from crapping all over the happiness of someone who is excited about their future.

What was I talking about?

When we left off yesterday I was having difficulty discussing my over-attachment to people and their content on YouTube specifically. Let's dive into that.

I am going to zero in on one example to keep my true crazy withheld for a moment longer. There is a creator on the Tubes that comes out with weekly videos to keep people posted on the progress he is making on his series. I love his series. I also think this creator is hella cool. His opinion is something I find truly fascinating. I am hoping, once he wraps up his series, he continues giving said opinion on various other things in the world. It would be something I would continue to show up and watch.

That being said, let's move on to the nitty gritty. The recent changes in YouTube is apparently making it harder for some creators to succeed. The thought process coming at him from so many different angles had him thinking that maybe he should change things on his channel to keep up. Which boiled down to either eliminating or limiting my access to his witty commentary. This, as I'm sure can be guessed, is something that I can not stand idly by and allow. Obviously if he really wanted to give up he could. Fortunately, he put it to a vote to his audience. Unfortunately, my perusal of the comments only brought me more dread as I saw comment after comment of "go ahead and stop."

This is where my attachment comes into play. I felt my stomach sinking as he did his lead up speech of how he felt. For some reason the "I'm leaving YouTube" speech is always the same. No matter how happy the person starts off I can sniff it out a mile away. I don't know if it's because I become familiar with the person's mannerisms and that gives it away. Maybe it's the finality to everything they say that clues me in. He started that he didn't want to leave altogether, he just wanted to cut his updates and go back to only highlighting his series. Either way he was talking and I was cringing.

I pleaded in the most pathetic, albeit honest, way I could for him not to. I let him know how important his updates were to me. I reminded him that his fans would take care of the turnout. That all he had to do was the provide us the reason to run rabid and we wouldn't fail. I painted a picture of myself panic-stricken staring at my computer screen. What is worse, I walked around all day today worrying whether or not others had convinced him to cease and desist. I was convinced he would be swayed.

He wasn't. What's more he replied to me personally to tell me as much. It appears my mental image of me as a kicked puppy moved him to at least assure me that he would go on. Talk about gushing when I saw that response. He took the time to answer me. Told me that my response helped cement his feelings on the matter. He may have been joking, but it still meant a lot to me.

I love it when they respond. I equate it to going to a concert of your favorite band, reaching up towards them only to have them reach out and grab your hand. Deciding to acknowledge you out of the thousands of screaming fans surrounding you. He reached out and grabbed my proverbial hand, letting me know that I was an audience member that mattered. It's why I can't shake my over-attachment to YouTube. It is a different level of being a fan. There are relatable people doing things I find interesting. They are in places in the world that I can't imagine ever getting to, inviting me in to share. And as if being a fly on the wall in their life wasn't enough, occasionally a line of conversation is struck. All of a sudden you're conversing with these people you find interesting. Why not be a fan? I stay overly attached, thanks.

Attachment

I have an emotional attachment to several people that I don't even know. It's kind of crazy. Since I am so into media, I find myself drawn to creators of just about every kind.

So attachment. I may have mentioned that YouTube is something I indulge in way too much. Well the creators have me feeling all sorts of different emotions. I'm elated over one, saddened over another, worried for someone else, and can barely hide my excitement for yet another. These are different events in people's lives that I take on emotionally as if I am actually affected by them. I love every minute of it.

Being able to include myself in the cheering squad of someone's life is exciting. Whether it's encouraging someone while they struggle or laughing with them, I want to be apart of it. I'm having difficulty stringing my thoughts together. Maybe I'll go more into it another time.

And the worst family member award goes to...

ME.

My mother wanted me to watch my niece today. I told I would because she was asking me to, but also let her know that I didn't want to. Just wanted to make sure the record was straight. I just don't have the enthusiasm to handle children, related or otherwise. Unless they are infants. I can deal with infants all day.

One of the reasons I wanted to not have any obligations today is that I was sleepy. As I said yesterday, I feel tired all of the time. Today wasn't any different. Since it was half day, I fully intended on rectifying that. I came home, ate a lot and promptly went to sleep. Then since things are changing in my house, I was woken up by someone getting a tour of my room before my landlady realized I was asleep in the middle of the afternoon. I should tell her sorry about that. Once things settled down again, I went back to sleep for a few hours more.

In the end I did not have to babysit. Events happened and everyone's schedule lined up. There wasn't a need for an intermediate stage of me watching her. Back to the bad family member thing. I am not really a team player sometimes. I feel as though I constantly need to worry about my own navigation through life. Therefore, I often forget that I'm in my family and that I should also keep them in mind. A qualm for not living with family or selfishness? Dunno. It happens a lot and for some reason I always feel blindsided when things are asked of me.

Either way my Saturday was spent the way I wanted. I may actually be well rested tomorrow. I won't count on it though.

Another day, another tutoring session

Changing positions with my mother from student to teacher has let me know that some of my passion about the way I learn may be hereditary. Or taught to me by her. I'll give example but first, back story:

I was that kid. The one that blindly followed what my teacher told me. If I went home with a method that was taught to me you probably couldn't tell me that my teacher taught me wrong. All night as I'm doing homework, if you veer from what my teacher told me be ready to hear me say "that's not what my teacher said."

Enter my mother. She tells me that her infuriating teacher didn't teach her something. I try to instruct her and what do I hear? "That's not what [my teacher] showed me." Cue my frustration. Then there is the veering from the method she was taught and it's "I don't want to do this, she may count off." Now I'm irritated because I'm trying to figure out how this teacher is going to take off for getting the answer. Finally I had to level with her to at least let me finish what I'm saying before she harps on how my method doesn't match her teachers.

We slogged through the homework. Battling distractions and bad attitudes, we eventually got the end results. At one point, I found myself telling my mother to not talk to me a certain way. Who's the parent here? I almost grounded her. I started to fuss at her for her tone and had to dial it back and remind myself that she is my mother. Talk about barely keeping my cool.

We got through though. She even seemed to know what she was doing in the end. I'll be back tomorrow to help finish something else she needs.

Always tired

So it appears my research project was a set up for when I couldn't think of anything else to talk about. It'll have to take the back burner because I have something to talk about again.

I am always tired. I mean always. I come home from work at 6 PM and can immediately go to bed. This is after getting a full night's sleep. I sleep through the night without interruptions and still feel drained the next day. I wonder if stress wears you out. I know depression does. Frankly I feel it all boils down to me being unhealthy. Lack of exercise and not eating right is probably what's dragging me down. Even knowing that I have no desire to get up and do anything.

On a day where I not expected to be anywhere, I will gladly not get out of bed until late afternoon. I don't feel remotely guilty about that. I already know that I'm lazy so the actualization doesn't faze me. I just wish it wasn't so hard to motivate myself to get up and go to work. I mean, I do get up and go to work. Bills need to be paid regardless of one's desire to get out of bed. I just wish it wasn't so much work to get up in the morning. Why do I love my bed so much?

Speaking of which, I think I'll go spend some quality time with it.

Dream sequence: child rearing

Last night I had a dream.
I was a single mom.
It was hard, my support system had sprung a leak and I was... all alone.
Out of the darkness came a smile, my baby's.

Hold it. This isn't Rent. Talk about ADD. Today I can't do research because I must talk about my dream. I lived with YouTube family who posted daily videos and, get this, was a single mom. I don't know, maybe they took me in. Strange.

The craziest thing of all was how rooted in reality the dream was for me. There was no prospect of a father, as their wouldn't be as I don't know how I'd turn up pregnant to begin with. I remember thinking in my dream that I'd always wanted to experience pregnancy. That is totally true. I want to know what it is like to be pregnant. I just really don't want the responsibility of a child afterwards. Those two facts has had me research surrogate pregnancy in the past. In my dream I found myself thinking that I had my experience of being pregnant and that I should be careful what I wish for. Then there was the whole YouTube thing. Living with daily vloggers? I watch too much YouTube, so of course that was something in my dream.

Here I was, all alone. Which, as terrible as that is, is how I think I would take finding myself to be a single mom. Simply because I feel I wouldn't be able to face my family. I was only finding solace in the smile that came from the tiny human that I'd created. This little girl was beautiful in every way. She was also a newborn and still looked to mama, that's me, for everything including constant cuddle time. She had the genetic makeup pertaining to the race that makes sense to me in reality. Like I'd completely fall for a guy of that race and produce a child that looks like that. Nothing seems too far-fetched. Even being in reality and thinking all of the "dream facts" over, everything makes sense. Not always true when I wake up and review a dream.

What always makes me so sad is the lonely feeling I get when I wake up from these dreams. I've only had two where the child is fully realized. Countless pregnancy dreams and those always feel like just dreams when I wake. It's something about having a dream about being a mother. First of all I'm always me in dreams like this. I'm usually a character in an elaborate story when I dream, but I've been me in both mom dreams. It always makes me want to go back to sleep to keep holding this nonexsistent child. Despite my general opinion on children, this little girl never fits into that. I'm always head over heels in love with the tiny human and have no desire to give her up. Even though I can feel the weight of taking care of her settle on my shoulders and in my stomach causing me to panic, she is all I want. For a girl who is constantly going on about how she hates kids and doesn't want any, ever, I need to stop finding myself chasing dreams about having had one and loving her.

Research for the sake of whimsy

It's that time of the day again. The time where I forego passing out after a long day to string together some barely coherent thoughts and post them on the internet. Huzzah!

So ADD, attention deficient disorder, is a legitimate disease that affects ones life. It isn't just some excuse for a person who is too rude to pay attention to what's being said. This semi coherent question just popped into my head. Is it a symptom of ADD to not be able to go to sleep right away? Isn't the problem that the mind is always going and the person cannot focus?

I never looked into the a true diagnosis of ADD and explored what that means in all aspects of life. People joke about it all the time. Anyone with a lack of desire to do something will blame it on some never diagnosed problem with ADD. While I am sure that a lot of people are just looking for a reason to have something else to blame instead of owning to terrible manners, I really want to know what it does mean to have the disorder. So I dedicate the next few days to finding out what it really entails to have one's brain hindered by the inability to focus.

This should be interesting.

Walmart.., *grumblegrumblegrumble*

I like to utilize other stores that aren't Walmart sometimes. I mean, I find myself thinking that there were stores before Walmart. Why do I never hear of them anymore? Truth is I do. All of the time, depending on my media intake at the moment. I just never heed their advertisement and actually shop there. I worked inside of a Tom Thumb for about nine months and still my grocery store of choice was Walmart. It drives me a little crazy at times. Why aren't there any local grocery stores in my city?

I really shouldn't worry about this? In fact, I won't even delve into the whole buy local argument at all. I just want to know why I dote so much on Walmart? Even the memes let you know how ridiculous it is that 300 people can work there and only three lanes will be open for check out. I know that I, personally, am a cheapskate and will seek out the store that will cost me the least. However, all of this is going off on a tangent that is neither here nor there.

Here is my point. I wanted to avoid Walmart but needed to pick up a few things from the grocery store. I chose to go to Kroger. It's a trusted institution for having food for buying and I grew up shopping there before Walmart took over. So I go to Kroger looking for hot links and they are sold out. I'm bummed. I pick up a few other things and decide to try a different Kroger the following day, today.

Today my agenda consist of two items. Put gas in my car and go to Kroger for hot links. The first item is taken care of without problems. When I get to Kroger they are sold out of hot links. What's interesting is they are sold out of the one I want but seem to be overstocked in the hotter version in which I am not interested. I'm now disappointed with a craving.

Needless to say, I break down and go to Walmart. I should have went there in the first place, but it was a Sunday afternoon. That spells out a guarantee 30 minute wait at check out. Having just gotten off of work, I wasn't even remotely down for that. Walmart happened to be sold out of the red hot version that I didn't want with more than enough of the ones I did. Funny that.

Moral of the story: quit being a hipster and just go to Walmart.

Peaceful beginnings

This morning ushered me in to what seemed to be a lovely day. Sunlight, muffled by the blinds, dance around my bedroom. It was hushed and calm. There was no stress. I felt well rested. I woke up on my own without any alarm disturbing my inner peace. Thoughts flitted through my mind like "what day is it today," "do I have to be anywhere," and "what time is it?" It was about this moment when all three answers hit me at once.

It was Saturday, I had to be at work at 8:45 AM and it was 8:33 AM.

Holy moly! I hit the ground running. The new tardy policy of my job running through my head. I tried to rush through tasks that couldn't be rushed and barely avoided choking myself with my toothbrush. Clothes were chosen without much, if any, scrutiny and my drive to work had me going my usual speed: FAST.

But to work I got and work I did. All is okay... for now. I guess I'll be able to truly assess the damage on Monday Tuesday.

What I don't understand is I got about eight hours of sleep last night and yet I was still exhausted when I got off of work. I thought that maybe I'd take a nap. Five hours later I find myself still not wanting to get up and move around. A truly wasted day. Unless I consider that I do love sleep, and also consider that sometimes a day spent enjoying it isn't a waste at all.

Cozy? Strangely, no.

So the movies. A great way to pass the time. One might say, a favorite way of mine.

Okay, I would say that. Seeing a movie in the theater is something that I try to do frequently with or without a partner. I go often, I'll go alone, and I see things simply because my interest is peaked. I find it a testament to my love for movie going that I keep doing it even though my body seems to protest the act.

What do I mean? I'll tell you eager reader. When I go to the movies, inevitably I end up freezing. Even when, after doing an assessment I find that it isn't really all that cold. I always start off fine. Just chilling in the theater, eating too much popcorn. Then suddenly it's like someone turned down the thermostat. I can't explain it. I'm just really cold. Sometimes I can genuinely blame it on the temperature in the theater. Tonight was not one of those times.

I can't ever notice if there is a gradual change in my body's sense of the temperature. Tonight was like that. As I watch the movie I go from sitting with my hands tucked away to teeth chattering, full-body shivers. Even as my stomach convulses I'm telling myself that it isn't cold enough to feel this way. All the time this happens. I cannot remember the last time I went to a movie and didn't end up with my body acting as if I decided to detour to the local freezer.

I've tried different things to beat the phantom cold. You could, at one time, find me in a theater wearing fuzzy sock in my fuzzier house shoes all tucked under my Carebear cozy. This only barely warding off the shivers, as my jaw still gets quite the work out with the teeth chattering. If that wasn't ridiculous enough take in the fact that I'm in jeans and a jacket under all of that. Even in the summer, nay especially in the summer I make it a rule to never go to a theater workout pants, socks and shoes, and an overcoat. Nothing helps. I genuinely don't know why I'm so strange.

Not that any of this matters because as the pattern has revealed, I still continue to go to tbe movies without hesitation.

Music that promotes dancing

I just recently, and by recently I mean a few hours ago, realized that I am very much into music that promotes dancing. Now before the obvious thought sets in, let me explain. Yes, music in itself does usually promote dancing. Rhythmic noises tend to do that, I know. What I mean is I can name several songs that say in the lyrics get up and dance. I own these and adore these songs because I feel like they speak to my soul.

Strange, I know, but true nonetheless.

I was listening to one tune in my car that spoke of dancing away one's sorrow when faced with a sudden loss of stability in life. What better way to deal with sadness than to face it head on. The attitude of "I'll dance until my pain is bearable," is a lot more productive than "I'll just stay in this fetal position until everything goes away." Neither one may be better, but I like the potential of being able to laugh again that's wrapped in the former choice.

There was yet another song that had the message of constantly being in tune* with the music in your heart. It went on to say that the way to reset your can-do attitude is to get up and dance. Doing so reunites one to the music playing in their head allowing them to get that confident gait back in their step. While it isn't said in so many words and totally has more umph to it, the message is incredible. I actually do feel as though I carry a song in my heart, so I'm game to being reminded that sometimes I just need to listen to it.

Music has been my way to flow through life when conditons weren't the best for as long as I could remember. Even when music isn't playing I'm experiencing it from randomly singing my spoken word to dancing to a song no one is playing. I don't know if it's because I find these songs when I desperately need to get out of the dark recesses of my head. I don't know if I just love to dance and sing and just love that there is music encouraging me to continue doing just that. All I know is that I do enjoy a good uplifting message. Putting it to rhythm just allows me to enjoy it more.


*No pun intended.

Something that flips the roles

My mother has recently decided to go back to school. She told me from the beginning that she would need my help with her math classes. I'm game. I love math and am extremely confident when it comes to tutoring Algebra. Then the moment came to actually get some tutoring done. Talk about a reversal of roles.

My mother stirred up some frustrations inside of my that I can only imagine she has felt when she used to help me with my homework. It wasn't that she didn't know certain things. Math is a perishable skill. When you don't use it, you lose it. That wasn't the problem. The issue was when I felt she was trying to figure out an answer for herself.

I'll ask her a question and would immediately get the response, "I don't know." The first few times I reworded my question. Frustration started to build when we'd use a formula that she'd have explained to me only for me to ask her how to use it later and I hear, "I don't know." Next step for me was to immediately answer "yes, you do" when I heard "I don't know." That didn't last long as I would have liked. After a while, with that immediate response when I knew she did know, I was feeling as though she was wasting my time. I mean if the only answer you have is "I don't know," you aren't trying. If you aren't trying, then why am I here? You're wasting my time.*

It only took few more occurrences of "I don't know" to be said before I was completely out of patience. My mom mode burst forth complete with lectures, finger-wags, and a desire to give a spanking to the petulant child.** I was exasperated with her. I started to become a tad more snippy when I heard, "I don't know." I ended up fussing at her that she did know, that we'd just done it. I'd ask her a question and immediately say don't say I don't know, think about it for a moment and answer. She changed her answer to "I'm not sure," saying "you told me not to say I don't know." It wasn't any less infuriating.

This was when I came close to ripping in to her. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WHEN YOU TAKE THE TEST? ARE YOU JUST GOING TO LOOK AT THE PAPER AND SAY 'I DON'T KNOW?!?' IS THAT GOING TO ANSWER THE QUESTION? WILL THAT PASS THIS CLASS FOR YOU? 'I DON'T KNOW?'" Fortunately, I was able to contain this outburst. I did tell her she was close to getting that speech from me. She said she wouldn't have appreciated it. Basically, the way I don't appreciate the reponse "I don't know."

If ever children happen to me, I don't know if I'll be able to contain the desire to spank when they don't try. It sounds ridiculous, but it is literally one of the most infuriating things to me. Someone just saying "I don't know" without trying to find an answer has frustrated me at work and at home. I sends me through the roof. My mother was almost tutorless for doing so.


*I forgot to mention that these session were taking place after I finished a fourteen hour work day at 11 o'clock at night. I'm tired and had to get up early the next day.
**I actually threatened to smack her at one point if she told she didn't know again.

Yesterday was garbage

Let's continue to talk about my inability to put something together for the blog. Maybe my rash actually was my subconscious thought knowing that I really wouldn't have anything to write about for very long. I know myself on a deeper level than I could have imagined.

I should apologize for my last entry. As the title of this one states, it's garbage. What's funny is I have been caching ideas for things to discuss since this idea came into my head in November. There are at least four drafts that I could have used when I realized that I wasn't going anywhere with my writing.


But let's face the truth, I'm using this rant against myself to buy another day so I can say I wrote something, whilst having nothing to write about.

There's a lot bumping around in my head

I don't think I'll share all of it. I just don't think I'll have an easy time focusing on one train of thought. What did I talk about yesterday?...

Oh right, causing myself to breakout. I've been talking about that for two weeks or so. I decided it's my stress levels and what not. New topic.

...

Why is this so hard?

I'm excited about something that is also rather daunting. Nothing is set in stone. I can't even allow myself to really write about this. OK, something else.

There is a thought in my head that I keep trying to catch and share. It's elusive and I know it's there but I can't bring it forth. It was probably a rant. Something about feeling upset easily over how I'm treated. Oh wait, that's it. That's exactly it, but I'm out of time. I was just summoned to help my mother and have to give up my unsuccessful attempt to write this blog. Here's hoping I have something to contribute tomorrow.

Psychosomatic

That's it. I've determined for sure that this rash I am dealing with is all mental. It's completely psychosomatic. I've been suspecting it since my worst breakout was when I was freaking out on my way to work. Today it let me know that it's all in my head.

Today was my first day where I didn't have to any obligations... almost. I had to go help my mother because I apparently like to have conversations with her in my sleep and make promises that I don't fulfill. So besides needing to finally make good on my sleep talk, I didn't have anything to do. I did have need to take care of some life back up but I opted out.

So back to mental rashes. I tried to blame my breakouts on something that I am possibly laying in on my bed. It didn't quite make sense, but I considered it. It isn't. I stayed in bed for most of the day. YouTube is the only thing that I gave any attention. It was three in the afternoon before I considered that I hadn't seen my phone all day and I may have left it at the restaurant the night before. Three in the afternoon when I finally looked around and thought that I should be using this free day to tackle my life back up. Up until this point I've been laying around in bed. Meaning that I hadn't even gotten up to properly eat. I haven't even thought about itching. Three o'clock and it took two minutes of thinking about all that I needed to do for the rash pop up on both legs. I'm doing this to myself.

What is up with my life that all it takes are thoughts to break me out in a rash? A RASH!

I was suspecting that I may be dealing with too much. I don't know if it's the work load or the non-work stress, but something has me freaking out. So much so that it's manifesting itself outwardly. I've heard of people who got rashes from stress. I've heard of people who's health was affected by their daily lives. I understood concept but for the most part to me it was just a concept. It was a few years ago that I started getting stress headaches. People would say (what I would deem) stupid things to me that complicated everything and I would immediately have a headache. I haven't had that in a while but now I have a rash that comes on when I'm stressed out.

Well, here's one thing to consider: if I'm doing something and I start to itch, I'll know that that action isn't conducive to my mental health and happiness.

Something to consider

I realized that when it comes to being a customer I really don't know the first thing about the job the person serving me is working. It's something that is obvious but still needs to be said. How many times has a situation arose only for the first response to be "it's not that hard?" I don't know that. I don't know the first thing about their job. Especially if I haven't worked it. Heck, even if I have who knows what's changed since I left. I went to a restaurant the other day where the girl who was filling the orders looked confused. She would pull some things off the line and put them in the bag then just sit the bag aside. She wouldn't give what appeared to be the filled order out. Just stand there looking like a deer in headlights. I'm standing there with the impression, "are you new?"

It turns out the orders were not complete. The reason she wasn't giving them out was because they were still in want of something. You know, just making sure the customer had everything they paid for. Crazy thought. It was the kitchen that was holding up the orders, but since all we could see was her looking confused (as she stood there not knowing what to do with herself while she waited), it was assumed that she didn't know what she was doing. That was when it hit me, I have no idea what a person's job entails. I don't know the difficulty of their job because I don't have their job.

There is a video that this company makes all of their employees watch. It basically says that every customer has a story. Watch how you treat people because you don't know what they are dealing with. I find it funny because I feel that that goes both ways. We should remember as customers that every employee is 1. human and 2. has their own individual story. I know we don't like to think of the person serving us as another human that shares our Earth, but they are and we shouldn't discount that they have feelings.

Sleep...

Another night spent sleeping my life away. I prepared but detoured to my bed for what I thought would be two hours. It ended up being ten and a half. Blissful sleep. I'm clearly not getting enough of it since naps keep turning into bedtime. I have an observation to discuss for later.

There's a cap on my world

I always find it strange that I seem to have such strong emotions for the things I appreciate. I mean I know I like it, but I'm also acutely aware of my possible overuse of the word love. It just happens to be the best representation of my emotions about things that surround me. As I've been told before, I have a tendency to overcommit.

So what is it that I love now? The weather. Well, the fog to be more specific. Today was the first time that I've experienced an entire day of fog. Where I live, if fog is in the forecast, it's around when you wake up and a distant memory by lunch time. Since it isn't a common thing, that's probably why I find it fascinating.

To me fog is the sky closing in a little. A cap or ceiling to my outdoors. It reminds me of a wall you might find in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. There in front of you blocking your view but not matter how far you walk you can never reach out and touch it, let alone lean against it. The tops of buildings are cut off and thoroughfares are turned into dead ends. The world changes around you with the isolation of the landscape. As I write this it dawns on me that I am painting a nightmare for the claustrophobic, though that isn't how I mean it. It's just one of those things that the weather gives me to stare at for a while.

Insert crummy picture that doesn't do it justice.

I did say I could do it

I took on a work load that I thought could turn out to be more than I could handle. On top of working full time at job 1 I quadrupled the amount of hours I worked at job 2. This turned my wonderful little 46 hour work week into a 60+ hour work week. It took me about three hours of borderline hyperventilating just to convince myself that I could do it. Needless to say I had a lot on my plate.

When approached with the opportunity I jumped on it. I have a bit of a thing for owning things and more hours equals more pay equals potential to own more things. It was a no-brainer. I'm always down to pick up more hours when I can. The thing is, I've never worked this much. Ever. I've done the full work load for school and I've done a smathering of overtime over the years. I'm not afraid to stretch myself a little thin at times. I've just never committed to 60 hour weeks for months at a time. All that being said, I did commit myself to working a lot and now I've completed it.

It was a bittersweet moment when I finished tonight. I was done, I succeeded... ish. I showed myself that I can handle a littl more work. I also showed myself that my level of commitment gets harder to fake when I'm tired. Now I get to reintroduce myself to an old friend, sleep. I'm not sure how this meeting is going to go, but I have an inkling that the dialogue will sound something like this:

Me: Whoa! Sleep! Dude, how have you..? It's so good to see you.... Wow, umm. I don't know if you remember me. We met before a long time ago.
Sleep: Yeah, hey. I remember.
Me: Dude, I didn't realize you still hung out around here.
Sleep: I've always been here. You kind of fell off the grid... Busy, right?
Me: It's been nuts for me. But that's all behind me. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.
Sleep: Uh, yeah sure. You know I'm free when you are...
Me: How about right now?!? I have so much to tell you.

The scene ends with me happily tucked in bed for more hours than are necessarily healthy. I can't wait. This work week isn't quite over for me.

Due to scheduling conflicts and God loving me, for the first time in three or four months I have two days off in a row. My only thoughts are of me running around in circles pretending to be an airplane as I try to fanthom what on earth I'll do with myself for two days. I may not get out of bed at all on day one. Then again, I may as my life is seriously backed up.

Oh, sleep...

It must be stress

Guess who has a rash that likes to pop up whenever it likes?

Still me.

I've put a lot of thought into the fact that this thing seems to be selective of when it rears it's ugly head. I tried to figure out what change may be causing it. I tried to retrace my steps to see to what I could have exposed myself. Nothing is adding up. Except... I remember thinking that it felt like my conscious thought was triggering it. As if the more I dwelled on it the more often it popped up and worse it got. I also made note of the fact that twice I started to break out and decided to go to sleep without treating it, only to be completely clear when I woke up again.

I may have been closer to the truth when I suspected my conscious thoughts to be the trigger. I think this thing is brought on by stress. Before I'm written off as crazy, I'll explain:

My first breakout occured when I was running late getting to work. My knees started to itch as I was driving. Once I got there I was then reprimanded for my tardiness. Words like losing and write-up were tossed around. All the while, the itch on my knees spread up my legs and to my arms. The worst occurrence happened when I was worried I'd be late to my other job and was rushing to get there. While in the car, I was watching the thing spread across my skin while eyeing the clock to make sure I made it to work (that time I did). That occurrence was probably strongest because I was freaking out at the many possibilities of what this rash could be.

It's simple, I wake up fine. It's when I am going to work (usu. rushing) or dealing with some situation whilst at work where it starts. Basically, the more on my plate the more bumps across my skin.

I've known for years that I get stress headaches. I once had a situation where I had a person who only needed to say two words before I had a headache. Just recently I have noticed that my stress headaches are making a comeback. The likes of which I'd rather not see. This is a first for me breaking out from stress. I know it isn't diagnosed but I'm willing to believe it. I'd be more worried if everytime I went to sleep it didn't clear up just to come back again when I fussing over something.

All of that being mulled over, I'm currently trying to wain myself off of antihistamines. There's no way taking two every two hours is healthy. I've even stopped freaking out when I break out. I believe that may be part of the reason the outbreaks aren't as bad as they were. That or maybe something to do with the medication that was prescribed to me. Who's to say at this point? I'm just glad it's weakening. Hopefully I don't eat my words tomorrow.

I love to sleep

Coming home and going straight to bed is a best practice to me. It's better than anything else I can think of for shaking off the day and calming the nerves. Or for dealing with the adverse affects of too many antihistamines. Either way, I love it. Like I said yesterday, it isn't conducive towards achieving certain goals, but it'll make them less stressful.

I'm sure it can be gathered that I am still dealing with this rash/breakout/random-skin-issue. I still don't know what it is. I'm not even sure, with the cocktail of OTC and prescription drugs I am taking, what is treating it. I came home and slept. It's the best thing I could do. I felt slightly woozy all day. Almost as if I was on the border of losing my bearings and passing out. As I cannot say when I have ever passed out before, it would be a big deal if I did.

Back to sleep. There are definitely times when it is better than others to sleep off your problems. I'll go on record to say that today probably wasn't the best day for me to ignore my life for the better part of this evening. I probably shouldn't sleep my day away when I have laundry climbing the wall, or trash that needs to be thrown out. Maybe this is the time to wash my bed clothes in order to make sure that I'm not breaking out from something I'm laying in. Maybe. I could be organizing my media, or filing my paperwork, or doing a million other things to make my living situation more manageable. Nope. I'd rather sleep.

Call me lazy, but at least I'm not freaking out over my life back up due to a lack of sleep on top of everything else. My weeks will be normal here soon. I'll be able to have a day off again. A day that I can devote to keeping my home life in check. Finding time to deal with these things now is apparently too much work for me. Or maybe I should just call it...

Lazy.

So many things working against me

It appears that a 60-hour work week, continuous doses of diphenhydramine and an old computer is not conducive to blogging everyday. I come home and turn on my computer and as I'm waiting for things to get ready I fall asleep.

I'm feeling fairly ridiculous. Every time this thing pops up it seems to get worse.Yesterday was really bad. This whole thing started with me breaking out around the knees and up the back of my legs. That was day one. Now it's popping up on the soles of my feet, my hands, wrists and stomach as well.

It's nuts. I was on my way to work when it really hit. Imagine me desperately trying not to crash my car as I bathed in cortisone. I just wish that I knew what it was. I don't know if I am continuously exposing my self to the same thing everyday, or there is something coursing through my system that I am barely fending off. Either way, I would love to quash it because it is a terrible sensation. Fortunately I remembered that the doctor said that I should be taking diphenhydramine every two hours. That helped a lot. The only problem is that I can't keep up that regimen while I'm sleeping. My alarm clock is now an itching sensation all over. I hope I can figure this thing out.

Everything is coming back, so I'm going to try to sleep through it. Hopefully the diphenhydramine will have kicked in by the time I wake up again. Please, dear goodness, let the itching be gone.

A one day thing? Not on my life

Soooooooo. Here I was just thinking that my little rash was something that would pop up, convince me to see a doctor and then go away without a trace. Do all of that in the course of a day and convince me that I was just crazy.

At least I'm not crazy, about that anyway.

My breakout started to come back seemingly immediately after the diphenhydramine wore off. I wasn't thrilled. I partially expected when I went to sleep that I'd wake up covered in the ever growing rash. However when I awoke this morning, I wasn't completely covered and could still breathe. Good right? Not quite. It didn't take me over while I slept. I thought I would be just fine because it had run it's course. Then I was awake, not coming out a sleep, just awake and the itching started. It was as if my conscious thought was triggering the outbreak. Basically being told that this would take a few days at least to clear up.

I wasn't going to fill the prescription. I'm notorious for not doing so. I have been to the doctor several times where they tell me what I already know and write a prescription that I never fill. I usually get irritated at how much the visit costs and refuse to spend anymore money on what I can be self medicating. I never said I was always practical. Anyway, I got over that when the itching started again. I filled my prescription and decided to trust this expensive doctor.

It appears that I will be on meds for at least thirty days. This should be fun. Here's hoping for no further adverse reactions.

Failure comes swiftly and in all sizes for me

As if my body was afraid that I would run out of things to talk about, it, activated by my brain no doubt, broke out in hives yesterday. So who has two thumbs and spent 5 hours in the doctor? This girl.

Nothing is wrong with me of course. It's just that when you have a random rash that starts on one leg, jumps to the opposite then proceeds to spread up the back of both legs, jumps to the arms and solitary hand, you want a professional's opinion. It just kept spreading. Even after five hours, the doctor's visit and steroid shot I was still watching get bigger. That was when I said screw the doc's treatment and just went to the OTC. I had a diphenhydramine and proceeded to sleep it off. Hence the late entry and my failure.

What's ridiculous about this day is that I planned on writing this up at 5 pm when I got home. I turned on my computer and was waiting for it to warm up when I conked out and was dead to the world. So this is considered my January third entry and I will contribute later to January 4th.

Before going to bed I was teeming with many different rants about the medicine industry. I backtracked about putting that in written word when I remembered others that I care about and realized ultimately that doctors are wonderful people. They study long and hard to have to tell people what they don't want to hear. They get a bad reputation for other doctors carelessly euphanizing someone's aunt improperly. In my case, I don't quite feel that they are useless. I do, however, feel that I have neither enough money nor problems big enough for them to do anything of consequence without me leaving with an elevated level of irritation. As I type now I'm feeling a resurgence of my rash and becoming even more irritated. A couple hundred dollars just for it to come back in a few hours. I don't know what is setting it off and still, apparently, don't know how to treat it.

The longer I think about this the more frustrated I become. So my solution for myself is that I am going to stop thinking about this and go back to sleep. Hopefully I don't wake up covered in red splotches and welts. I'll know when I wake. At this rate, let us pray that I can still breathe in the morning as my right knee is itching again and that's where all of this started yesterday. To bed with me.

What do I talk about for a year?

As I've mentioned in a previous blog, I like to do new things. This year I would like to blog everyday in 2014. I've had this account for six years and I only have 54 entries (and all of those aren't even public). That is an average of 9 entries a year. That is pathetic. I like to write. I like participating in narratives, whether it is making them up or reading them. Considering the wide range of things that I read, I'm down for just about any thought process. Of course a year's worth of writing had me thinking about what I would write about. In the end it boils down to me.

My problem is that I tend to spend a lot of time complaining about things. I find that I'm a bit more self conscious about doing so in writing. Not to say that I don't do complain via statuses and journal entries. Just that after a while I get tired of myself always having a moan about everything when few things are truly wrong. Now I'm not claiming that everything that will come out of me this year will be positive or decorated rainbows and sunshine. I'm just hoping that I may be able to find more pleasant things in my life to talk about.

I may need a point system. See in the end if I spend more time whinging that I do praising the world around me. I already have a feeling about what will win. While it seems that I am shaping this year to be only looking at the bright side and ignoring my irritations, no. It wouldn't be me if that was all you got. I happen to be very good at ranting. A lot of things bug me for a LOT of different reasons. I am very passionate and I have no problem expressing that. Basically this will be me being a slightly more irritable than normal human feeling emotions.

I make no promises that things won't get a bit sparse at times or that I won't post more than a couple of  10 reasons I'm grateful entries. I won't even promise a decent length for every entry because, well, I know me. However, I am deciding to have something up everyday. Here goes nothing.

Welcome to the New Year!

How about a moment of reflection to see exactly what I was thinking. Sound good? Okay, let's go.

I have a project for this year. I have a project for every year. I've mentioned this before so I digress. It's time for the big reveal now that the dawning of the new year has happened. I want to take on the internet. What?

With my recent obsession with the little known site YouTube, I have decided to post videos on a regular basis. I have also decided to get into the wonderful world of documenting my thoughts in long, drawn-out prose. I want to post a blog, a blog that will have no rhyme or reason or relation to anything other than my peculiar thought processes, daily. As in everyday. So why are we supposed to be reflecting on what I possibly could have been thinking?

Enter my computer.

I am not that into having the latest electronics. I rebelled against CDs when they first came out. )Cassettes were just fine.) When that passed, I made myself believe that mp3 players were unnecessary, because who doesn't want to run around with a backpack full of CDs in order to have variety when listening to their portable CD player? My television still has tubes. I held onto my cellphone for so long that by the time I upgraded it, which was necessary if I wanted to push a button without it spazzing and turning off, the cellular device saleslady (that's right, her job is to know phones) didn't recognize my Blackberry Pearl at all. Before her time, I guess. That being said it won't surprise you to know that I bought my Compaq Presario C500 in 2007.

Yeah.... I have gotten it into my head that I want to record footage, import it to my 6+ year old computer, try to edit it and see if I can get it to upload. I believe my foolishness is starting to show. This may end all of my grand schemes of editing. It very well may be a year of videos that are continuous shots and drawn out soliloquies. I apologize in advance, or I would if anyone would be watching. We also cannot forget that with the blogging, my computer takes about 30 to 45 minutes to warm up. Yeah. Warm up. Like an ancient radio. It needs to consider how much it likes me for the better part of an hour so I can click on something and not have it take 5 minutes to respond. What was I thinking, indeed.

I will charge into this year and not look back. My devices and I may or may not make it, but only time will tell. So, as I sit here finishing off a one pound Snickers bar, I'll consider how some of my bad choices were completely worth it.

Happy New Year.