un-whole-some

hormones: hell has seen no fury like a woman on hormones who should not be on hormones.

i am so relieved to find out today that i'm not totally insane. my doctor told me today that hormones can wreak unbelievable havok on certain women's brains. mine included. now, while on valium to keep me from being a crying, violent wreck (so far working total magic), i have been informed that if i am steady-as-she-goes three weeks from now, there is a huge chance i will be sane, not on valium, and not uterus-less.

amazing, the peace that information can bring despite what they say about ignorance being bliss.

as we get older, and have more complicated physical problems, how much are we to ask of the partners we have who live through the confusion with us. really?

Sandwich-making perfectionist Virgo

if i was not a sandwich-making perfectionist virgo, i would not have to remake every sandwich i buy so that all the ingredients are distributed evenly.

if i was not a sandwich-REmaking perfectionist virgo, i would have eaten the dead fly i found on a piece of lettuce in my club sandwich this morning at 11:53am.

News from the lunatic fringe

i have been a lunatic lately. not a fun lunatic, not a manic lunatic, but more a lunatic on the side of RAVING. i have been saying totally wacko insane things to guy. i have been crying everyday for i don't even remember how long. i have been affected in an unbelievably extreme way by everything that guy does or says. on monday night, i punched him in the stomach.

there is no excuse for violence ever. i am a former "victim" of violence. i have never ever in my entire life inflicted violence on anyone but myself until monday night. guy admitted to being mean to me, but he's frustrated. he has a right. There is something VERY VERY wrong with ME and it's really anyone's guess as to what to do about it.

i have two guesses:

1. hormones. those motherfuckers are very intense, body-altering chemicals. my gyno has me on a new kind (since the insanity started) that did stop all my endometriosis hemorrhaging, but has turned me into a monster.

2. lexapro withdrawal. obviously a drug invented by satan. satan. satan. this shit is practically lethal. i have felt a whole new level of world-hatred, life-hatred and self-hatred than i ever thought possible, since it has been leaving my body (the exact same amount of time that i have been on the psycho hormones).

this morning i listened to my ipod really loud.*** ahhhh, finally peace. all that noise pushed the insanity right out of my head. i have been doing super loud headphone therapy since i was 13 and got my first sony walkman. i may someday contract tinnitis but the brain benefits i gather from this therapy far outweigh the detriments. i mean really, what's more important: ears or brain? i think brain, don't you.

i have doctor's appointments on thursday and friday so i can get to the bottom of this. i have been a whirling dervish, i can't imagine what it must be like to live with me. guy does the best with me he can, but a Regular Guy is no match for a Crazy Lady.

i need to be quarantined.


***yep, i got my ipod to be loud again. i swear to god i felt the heavens opened up and placed golden hands on my heart. the secret, in case you have this problem, is going into "settings" and making sure that "sound check" is "off."

Three Blind Lives

i have a cousin who i am not close to. she lives in alabama and the last time i saw her all she had to say were things like this: bong, crack pipe, whatever, they're all the same! they're all criminals!

she is on her third marriage. she is married to her father's lifelong best friend. he is nearing 70 years old, she is 39. she just had a baby with him.

before him, she was married to a gay man. well, that's what my grandmama told my sister. they never had sex. they were married for three years. she saved up some insane sum of money to throw herself a lavish wedding to the gay man. she saved money for a YEAR. this guy used to carry a handgun in his fanny pack when he took their two chihuahuas out for walks at dusk.

before him, she was married to a preacher's son. he abused her. he beat her up. then he bought her horses. she stayed married to him for ten years.

interesting, isn't it?

here's some more:

her father, my uncle, who i was close to as a child, used to do deep diving, rescue diving, something like that, where he would dive underneath barges to check shit out, fix stuff, find stuff. he couldn't see anything under there, it was zero visibility water. this career, these activities really blow my mind. it's so scary. can you imagine? it's like being totally blind AND not being able to breathe.

then my uncle became a cop. he used to say he was going to go "pop some nigger ass because nobody else is going to do it." he got so into that, that he was promoted to undercover narcotics officer. he believed that people who smoked pot were the root of all evil. he said to me once, "lou. these people are criminals. they don't care about being in control. i would never do drugs because i like being in control. you can't trust people who don't like being in control." i didn't say anything to him right then, but it got me thinking. everybody likes being in control, it's human nature. it all depends on how you look at it. he had no idea ever that i was a hardcore pothead for 15 years and that by smoking so much pot, i was indeed controlling myself and the perceivable world around me. he's a grown man. why did i, as a teenager, have more sense than a grown man?

then uncle developed vertigo and has, ever since, been pretty much confined to his 40 year old wooden kitchen chair that has a holster underneath it holding a gun, just in case someone breaks into the house, despite the sticker on the front door window stating, "this house protected by smith and wesson."

A barrell full of bullshit

i recently kissed my old boss' ass because i was sort of hoping that his wife, the head of (gargantuan retail brand) there, would flow me some freelance copy work. i have totally maintained a very high level of bullshit to make sure this is a possibility in the future.

then i said to myself, are you fucking kidding?

this is my new approach, which i have conjured up due to the fact that i have not received my insurance continuation through COBRA, yet i have paid for it, the check has been cashed and the papers signed, yet i get no answers and am in fact told that i must cease to be "threatening" and "rude" to HR. those of you who know me, um, know that there is not one piece of me that has the capabilities that "threatening" would require.

so here goes:

dear (name of asshole who owns company),
last time i wrote to you i was exceedingly polite and apologized for any misunderstandings concerning my insurance, as well as made it clear to you that the last thing i want is a bad relationship with you...well, it was all bullshit. it was bullshit to the max. it was a barrell full of bullshit.

your company sucks really really big ass. every single one of your employees is miserable. EVERY SINGLE ONE. some of them even get sick before arriving to work in the morning. anxiety attacks while driving, sour stomachs while eating lunch etc. you are known as a liar and a cheapass by every employee you have. no one says it to your face because we were all scarred by the dot com bust and the inability to find work for a couple of years. your employees are so depressed from working for you at such low pay and for such long hours, since you refuse to hire the necessary amount of employees needed to get the work done, that they find it difficult to look for work. you have, in essence, grown a farm of depressed adults that you ply with beer once every three months and think that makes you awesome-boss. "oh, he's so cool, he buys us beer." but really asshole, you are the reason that people are miserable at that work address. and as long as you keep that tyrannical bitch (n) on staff, you will never have a happy crew on the upper deck. (j) got a bigger computer monitor so he wouldn't have to look at her screwed up bitchy face all the time and he's her closest friend! you are a joke. oh, and (r)? he's a bald-faced liar. he lies about why people are fired, hired, raised and dumped. he's called "the politician." did you know that? oh, and everyone thinks you're closeted by the way. it's kind of hard to disagree with them, even though i don't really get that vibe. but i haven't known you as long as they have.

i am one of the lucky ones who escaped and i feel it is time for you to know the truth. pretty soon you'll be paying for (jc's) in-patient mental hospital bills, you can count on that.

sincerely,
your typical ex-employee



so, friends, now you know me to be the passive aggressive pussy that i am, although i would like to add an update: turns out i know an insurance lawyer. i wrote to this lawyer and told her the whole story. she expressed her condolences and noted that they have acted "way out of line and in violation of federal law." she offered to find me an advocate. she also told me i could file a complaint, but that i might feel better just putting it behind me. my choice: i wrote to them and told about the lawyer and what she said and let them know i wouldn't be pursuing anything, they'd wasted enough of my time already.

Three Important Words

a friend of mine i've had since the third grade, lost a baby in a miscarriage several years ago, and was devastated. she and her husband spent some time getting over it. she involved herself in erstwhile activities like getting in shape and advancing to a very high position in her company. and she became happy again.

i heard from her recently: she got pregnant again. boy oh boy, was i happy. she and her husband are very kind and funny people. they SHOULD make more people. she told me in an email a couple weeks ago, "i'm pregnant! i'm due in april!" she was so super stoked. we laughed about how my sister's baby and her baby would be in the same grade.

i got notice today, from another good friend of ours, that the baby is gone now. again. that she lost her baby again.

i asked our good friend what i should do. what i should say. i told her i can't stop crying. i can't put myself in her shoes. what should i do. i asked our friend who has sustained loss, who is very wise and very kind. i asked our friend who would know what to do, and who would tell me what to do.

she said, just tell her you're sorry. send her a note. say, "'i'm so sorry.' you know sometimes just hearing those three words can be very comforting." so i did that. i just got her and her husband a card and i wrote, "i'm so sorry." i cried as i bought the card and i cried as i wrote it, but i kept it simple.

i think that's very good advice what our good friend told me to say to them. i think it should be kept in mind for other people with loved friends who experience pain. three words, "i'm so sorry." that's all that's needed sometimes, to provide some comfort when it's needed most.

Medication Migration

ok, so the progress is progressing, the medicine that i do not need is slowly, slowly, slooooowwwwwly leaving my system and in it's wake are tears. hard, hot tears that come every day.

soon, lexapro will be totally out of me, no longer making my eyeballs and brain float around, in a weird lateral motion, no longer having to wear pants 3 sizes bigger than normal, no longer giving me small brain electrocutions.

i feel hatred for these pills. i wish they were something that i could injure, like a wall, or an umbrella.

Gettin' Hitched

guy's sister's boyfriend is a guy i like. guy likes him too. he's a computer dude of some kind with a wicked sarcastic sense of humor. he's also severely into intense lego setups like building the millenium falcon. he builds the lego constructions with guy's sister's twin 8-yr-old sons. don't even get me started on these boys. they are the best kids i have ever met. but that's another story.

anyway, one night recently guy's sister (she's a vice-principal at a middle school) was chaperoning a dance and the boyfriend was home with the twins. they spent their evening that evening decorating the massive playroom that is over the garage, with christmas lights. just decking it out, lights upon lights upon lights. before guy's sister returned from the dance, her boyfriend sat her sons down and had a conversation with them. i can just see their little faces. all big eyes and serious and listening intently, they love the boyfriend, they listen when he speaks. so he sits them down and he asks the boys for their permission to marry their mom. holy crap, just typing it makes me cry. i think it's the coolest thing i have maybe ever heard. what a guy. those boys were, of course, stoked beyond belief. i know they love him. i didn't hear their answers or see their faces, or even talk to them, but i know they were STOKED.

what kind of guy asks two 8-yr-old boys if he can marry their mom, before asking her? a fucking-a cool guy, that's who. someone who respects kids and i guess that kind of action really rings in at number one in my heart because whenever i think about it, i get choked up and cry.

later that evening guy's sister gets home, and with the boys in the room, the boyfriend gets down on one knee and proposes to her, in that playroom with all those twinkly lights. and she cried, and she said yes.

CONGRATULATIONS TO SOME OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE IN THE WORLD.
XOXOXOXOX
big love.

Face to Face (a little homage to the bloody hand man himself)

faces are fucking bizarre. all so different. some with severe aesthetic handicaps. big, bulgy eyes that are seen through. long and skinny little lips. mouths. they open and there is entry. entry to life, death. breath, sexual entry. tactile. emotional. then there're noses. more holes there. two right in the center of the picture that is your face. two round holes. with hallways.

everyone in the world sees your face all the time except the owner. the owner never sees this thing that is an entry to everything in their lives.

i became a portrait artist because faces are so personal and it gave me a sense of intimacy with someone i didn't know, or have to get to know. this happens when you spend a lot of time duplicating the image of their face onto a piece of paper.

but faces still seem stupid. they're just this mess of wrinkly, bumpy stuff on the other side of a globular shaped computer center. and they can be so unsettling.

i wish there were less of them.

Crusted Butt

"Crested Butte, CO"

ha ha ha ha. can't stop laughing. sounds like crusted butt. ha ha ha. Crusted Butt, Colorado. i want to live in crusted butt.

The Hall Pass Smile

isn't it great, when you're walking through the hall at your work, and you pass someone you know, and you HAVE to acknowledge this person, so you give them the raised eyebrow look or the half-smile? god, those moments are really really AWESOME.

at my old job, where every single employee was miserable, we passed each other in the hall, with the raised eyebrow look.



at my new job, where people are given ample time to concept their creative projects, but where there are 600 more people, we give the "total ignore" which is a look, a look down, and a look away – or we give the half-smile, the "hi, you're there, i'm here, this doesn't suck" look.

i still can't get over the differences in working for a worthwhile company vs. working for a rip-off company. it's all in the face.

Radio rain, rainhead, rainio and so on

radiohead and the rain. they go together like pot and brownies. like little girls and baby dolls. like vodka and divorce.

i never listen to radiohead between the months of april and november. it just feels weird. radiohead is made for the rain. sad, slow, heavy, beautiful, downtrodden, just like tears. like rain. like radiohead.

i love larry

larry david in GQ about being named one of the "Men of the Year."

"i haven't been referred to as a man since my Bar Mitzvah, so i'm delighted to be included in the Men of the Year."

Just say "No."

withdrawal symptoms from lexapro, day 14, on a half dose (5mg):

1. sensitivity to noise. not necessarily just loud, but noise in bulk, like from a crowd. makes me irritated and agitated. a feeling of a need to escape overcomes me.

2. headache. a slight pinch in the afternoon.

3. easy to cry, although this is coinciding with PMS time. and that is a common PMS symptom for me.

4. extreme reaction to stress. "this is the end" etc.

5. lack of desire to go out, socialize, unless seriously previously inebriated.

6. indications of proactive aggression: fighting with a random lady over who was at the change machine in the BART station first, and winning. also, cutting my own hair.

7. brain zings in the morning. like someone has stuck a live wire into the center of my brain, making me cross-eyed for a split second.

i just read that there are studies suggesting that non-caloric sweeteners actually make people gain weight because the body gets confused. the body senses there is something sweet going in, but when no calories follow, it makes up for the indiscretion in some other way. interesting, isn't it? i've always thought chemical food was bad. especially fake sugar. i wonder how taking antidepressants would relate in that way. like, if you suppress your emotions, but your brain recognizes that something bad is happening, what does it do when the appropriately accomodating emotions do not occur?

does it freak your shit out and turn you into some kind of monster? or what?

"But I want to touch it."

when my mom came to visit me recently, i showed her the outrageous and gorgeous building i work in, and the astonishing gallery that is adjacent to the monstrous lobby. i had not previously entered the gallery. the idea of it made me nervous. a gallery in a lobby? privately owned historical works of art that are accessible to me, free of charge whenever i want as long as i use my supersecret all-access pass?!

we walked in at 1:30pm on thursday, november 2nd, and were immediately met with warhol's silver elvises. and about ten other warhols. and about six calders. and a cy twombly and maybe 8 chuck closes.

i stood there, stunned and stimulated, as i always am in the presence of big pop art. then, even more unexpectedly, my mom, in a delightfully childish motion, walked over to a stack of andy's brillo pad boxes and proclaimed,

i want to touch it.
no, you can't.
why not?
because it's fine art.
she looked at me like i was just kidding.

and she moved closer...
but i want to.

her fingers inched closer and closer to andy's brillo box. she looked at me again, in an endearingly, rebel sort-of-way, watching my face for a reaction. i paused dramatically, my breath held, my insides inflaming as i imagined her skin oil leaving a permanent mark on the pop art perfection.

mom. there's probably a camera on you right now.

and with that she moved away.

that's when my art talk started. it comes out of me unexpectedly in galleries. there are a lot of thoughts and ideas in my head about art and i forget that they exist. i explained to her why andy was a genius because he achieved a weird, and difficult art expression...a distinct lack of expression. i talked to her about, perhaps, why she liked one chuck close over the other. i was surprised to find that she very much enjoys modern art, like a stack of empty white blocks hanging from the ceiling and one calder mobile over another. she exhibited absolute feelings for difficult art...that i didn't expect. i really truly loved it when she would say about any particular piece, "ohhhh, i REALLY like this."

the gallery with my mom was an enjoyable experience and it showed me something i didn't really know about her, that she has an appreciation for abstract ideas...a beautiful thing to discover at such a late date in life. and from someone who really doesn't know that you do not, under any circumstances, touch an artist's work without their permission. such a funny juxtaposition. she, a baby boomer, a southern belle, a born-again christian, a woman born and raised in alabama, not a place where typical people have feelings about art, or abstract ideas, but more a place where typical people carry handguns in their fanny packs when they take their dogs out for walks in the early evening.

i saw my mom in the gallery in a whole new way. she was adorable in her innocence and sophisticated in her artistic taste.

The Real McCoy

my best friend from 8th grade until high school graduation, said the first time she ever saw me, i was drooling.

it's probably true. i wish i could say it's because i'm incredibly relaxed, but for those of you who know me, that's a big laugh!

today during a meeting with the copywriting head lady and the other three writers, i took a sip of my rockstar right as the head lady said my name. it dribbled out of the right corner of my mouth and down the front of my cashmere sweater. i smiled, and in a dramatically ladylike manner with my pinky raised, rubbed the soda into my sweater and said, "yes (smile)...this is me." everyone laughed.

i feel like i'm making friends.

i've been told that i'm intimidating. i think it's my height and spinning brown eyes that hypnotize the weak. but i'm just a big dork, with a clumsiness factor of 105 and a tendency to laugh at everything. especially stuff that other people in the theatre don't think is funny.

i love it when people around me finally realize this and we can start making fun of each other. i'll volunteer myself for the joke anyday.

random sunday thoughts

i hate U2.
and socialists.
and anyone who takes themselves very seriously.
holy crap
what is playing on guy's itunes.
i can't let that thing go wild. oh it was joni mitchell.
i guess i'm not a joni mitchell fan either. is she serious?

"you only paint when you're crazy," he said.
it's true. it's a way away from blackout land.
it's a way away from destruction.
it's a place to put the energy.
it makes ugly paintings, that's too bad.

i dreamt last night that i was pregnant by my college boyfriend. it was present day, but guy and i had broken up for a bit nine months previously and that's when it happened. i was going to marry college boyfriend, and then it hit me, i don't actually want to do that, why am i doing it? i would be HAPPY right now if it was guy i was marrying, instead of walking around all mopey. i don't have to marry the person who inseminated me. this was all very revolutionary in my dream-brain. when i realized this me, guy, college boyfriend and maybe my sisters were swimming in the ocean. there were rapids too. it was difficult but mandatory, necessary to maneuver correctly.

when i realized i could marry guy and suddenly the whole dreary aspect of pregnancy and forced social customs didn't have to exist i was so happy, in my dream i could feel warmth spreading throughout my body, like a firefly.

"what happened to the door there in the wall"

i am going off of lexapro, the newest, coolest, most refined of anti-depressants.

i decided to go on it a year ago. i have past experience with SSRIs (namely 1996 - 2000) and have found that i am a situational depressive, not a chronic. for a non-chronic to stay on drugs indefinitely is for sure BIG BROTHER-ish. i refuse that. so, if i find out/feel that i'm behaving a little out of the ordinary for even a crazy artist type, i get on the drugs. i stay on for a while and then i get off, and i'm fine. until i feel "nuts" again (which is really a glorified overreation to events that are not as tragic as i perceive them to be), and then i'll go back on them.

i have been feeling spectacular lately. really great. my job. my man. my home. etc. good stuff. so i decided, hey, it's time to get off of these drugs that block my perception of things and the way that i process such perceptions.

and i feel fantastic. i'm so happy to get these drugs out of my brain and my body and i feel sane and able and good. and soon the 30Lbs. that mofo drug put on my body will be gone too.

i encourage people to do their own research, always, for all medical concerns, but especially those that are less researched, like mental health and treatment. doctors/pharmacists/pharmaceutical companies/the goverment would rather you just take them all the time. in fact, a regular medical doctor has the power to prescribe such drugs, without any study whatsoever in psychology or psychiatry. how ridiculous is that? would you have a foot doctor diagnose and prescribe a heart patient???

so, it's important to keep track yourself, do your own research, and make your own decisions because those guys: mds, phds, and whatever, don't really know. mental health is too new a science and the drugs they prescribe have barely any history or trial tests to pull information from. it's a fucking crapshoot and the guinea pigs, ironically, are the crazy people who most often can't give a doctor an accurate snapshot of what is happening if they tried their very hardest, especially if they're on freaking brain drugs.

just a thought.

What happens when your family goes from happy to rot?

my mom, who i love so much, who i feel i got my best traits from, has been visiting since thursday. she was to leave tomorrow.

she left today. it's 1:30 in the afternoon.

the fight started when i opened up a newspaper and said, "this is what your next car should be: the saturn SUV hybrid. then you'd have all the room you want and not be driving a gas-guzzler like this (plymouth voyager mini-van, the thing is gigantic.) she says, "no. i'm waiting for an ethanol." well, i read a lot and i haven't come across much on ethanol so i tell her, i think, mom, maybe those cars are more in the development stages and you could get a saturn, which you trust,for a reasonable price, that's a hybrid and start saving money and the environment now."

that is how the fight started. we were pulling out of the REI parking lot. she wanted to get guy a christmas present, i showed her what he would want, and we found a good thing for her to give him, and she was going to buy it outright. instead i encouraged her to look it up on the internet to find the best price because she's always talking about how pinched their finances are (because she and my stepdad have invested all their money in strip malls in a tiny town outside of amarillo, texas - needless to say i don't get this). she seemed upset. i explained how guy looked for a tent he wanted at REI and then found it online for $75 less. i said, why not do the same thing? her reaction seemed like i was pissing on her parade. nevertheless, we went out to the car and were headed to the new mall downtown, just so she could see how much san francisco is changing. this is a town she and i have shopped in since i was 8 years old and started to give a fuck about fashion. we were excited, but after the discussion about hybrids and ethanol, and as we're driving away, things got hairy. and hairier.

we got into the same old fights all of a sudden about my step-dad and my half-sisters and her and their crazy freaking way of living and my grandparents who died, who were the only voice of reason ever in my life and it just got BAD.

we pulled over, tried to discuss it some more, and she announced, i'm going home now (to carson city, nevada). i said you know, we could just say let's think about what we've talked about and continue on and have a nice day. NO. she says she is too upset. she wants to go home. i start tearing up. she tells me i'm crying hysterically.

we get home to mine and guy's house and while i pour a fat vodka and smoke a cigarette, she gets her stuff together. i help her put it in the car. i'm feeling very depressed that my mom is leaving this way...but it's happening. she gets in the car and drives away.

there are many lessons to learn, but driving away from them, is dumb. i have learned this. taking a few moments to think is smart, but driving 6 hours away from the problem is why we are still having the same problems. money. half-sisters. me, an only child in a way, college, who worked for it, who got a semester paid by them for it, who didn't work for it, who didn't get a semester paid...it's family.

my family used to rule. i used to think we were special and seperate from families who didn't like each other or who fought.

then it totally changed and we became that family, the fighting family, the family who rolls their eyes and says, "Well, i'm spending the holidays with my family, better bring the valium! ha ha ha." we are now the family who can't be around each other, and while there is love, there is little tolerance for anything psychologically challenging. there is driving away. there is closing doors.

there is vodka drinks on the front porch at 2pm in the afternoon on a saturday.

i have no answers. i don't know how to fix this.

Hell's Dells

dude, i'm on a dell!

holy crap i have been thrown into computer hell at my new job as a writer! dude, i want to kill this dell! how stupid the PC is with its inexact cursor and click and drag and stupid WORD, where you accidentally erase whole sentences when all you're trying to do is excommunicate a period!!

DUDE! the dell is hell! i can't believe how fucking tedious pcs are! i totally forgot after 10 years of nurturing my mac love.

it's no surprise that the higher-ups here at work, even though they're not artists, they too are writers, ARE ON MACS! huh, what a surprise!