2/30 Things: 3 Fears

Well, here I am with part two of the “30 Things” challenge, and it is going to be a tough one for me. Today my task is to:

Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.

Sadly, I have many, many fears and phobias – this is probably due primarily to my (aforementioned) PTSD. I am not sure that I could really compose a comprehensive list of three fears that are both “legitimate fears”…. (if I have a legitimate fear, can my mind shut that whole thing down? *zing!*), and something that I feel comfortable sharing with the whole wide world of the Internets (all two of you who visit my page!), so I will just settle for the first three fears that come to mind.

I know, I know...its old. But I am still not over it! 

Fear #1 – Zombie Attacks 

The zombies in my nightmares are never this personable. =(

I may have mentioned before that I have a really strong fear of random zombie attacks and it is true, I am afraid of it. I like to take walks at night because it is fracking miserable to walk during the day in most months, and because I enjoy the solitude of an evening walk. I like that I do not have to worry about interacting with anyone because most people in my neighborhood seem to be fast asleep at the time I walk. For everyone else, there is my very large husky that tends to intimidate non-canine lovers away. The downside to walking at this time is the darkness – the shadows – the “unknown.” I have seen my share of horror movies (and CSI Miami) and bad things happen when someone walks by themselves at night. 

*cue The Who - Won't Get Fooled Again

So why zombies specifically? When I moved here with my husband a couple of years ago, some really weird shit immediately started to happen here in good ol’ Floriduh. Well, to be fair, weird shit is always happening here – but this was different. An enraged naked man randomly attacked a homeless man and ate most of his face…HIS FACE. And then, when the police shot him, he grunted at them and kept attacking! Here is a quote from a Huffington Post story, which I will post the link(s) to at the end of this entry.

Is there anything appetizing about that guy's face or
neckbeard to you?

Gruesome photos circulating the web would later confirm most of Poppo's face, including his nose, eyes, and mouth, was ripped away, in what Miami's Fraternal Order of Police vice president Sgt. Javier Ortiz told the Associated Press was of the "goriest scenes I've ever been to." Poppo remains in critical condition.

"He had his face eaten down to his goatee. The forehead was just bone. No nose, no mouth,"said Sgt. Armando Aguilar, Miami FOP president. "In my opinion, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

What. The. Fuck? “But it’s just an isolated incident – a freak occurrence!” says you. Ya. Nope. Not at all an isolated incident. I did ONE Google search and found the aforementioned story; this headline:

 Another Florida ‘zombie’ attack? Naked man storms girlfriend’s house, bites chunk out of man’s arm - Drug-addled man takes off all of his clothes in his lover's home and then bites another man on the bicep. Police had to taser him twice to subdue him.

…and this headline:

Zombie Mickey - just as endearing as
 regular Mickey Found here

Another Zombie Attack? Naked Florida Man Jeremiah Haughee Climbs On Roof, Bites Home Owner And Cop.

So ya, don’t give me any of that isolated incident bullshit. This is reeeeal. I could be out on a stroll and it would not be unheard of for me to get nommed by an enraged naked zombie person. If I went out for a walk and got bitten by a zombie it might not even be front page freakin’ news! To sum up the reason why I fear zombies – I live in the most ‘effed up place on earth.

Fear #2 – Bathroom mirrors

This is one of those really long stories with way too many details that would probably be best left uttered to a therapist rather than the Interwebs, so I will try to stay brief. In the mid-eighties when I was in grade school there was a really popular urban legend about Bloody Mary. I found a reading of it that I have posted below – this version seems to best fit the tale that I had muttered to me as a child. 

Okay so picture is not quite related but they
 sounded that creepy

I would hear the story, then forget it for a while – as kids do. Then, one day while I was in one of the stalls in the bathroom during recess, I heard one of my classmates threaten another with the story. She warned her that “Bloody Mary was going to kill her.” I thought that it was pretty cruel but I was a very shy little girl who kept to herself. I began to readjust my clothes and flush. I heard screaming, then I heard it. Three or four girls chanting..

Bloody Mary...

            Bloody Mary...

                        Bloody Mary...

…and then I heard a scuffle, the door slam, a girl scream and I saw…nothing. Blackness. Someone had shut the lights out. I heard the other girl that had been trapped in the bathroom scuffle and cry and scream for the next several minutes. I could do nothing but sit on the toilet and hug my knees with my eyes closed. Eventually, after what felt like a very long time, someone opened the door. For some reason both the lock and the lights for the bathroom were outside of the door – I assume this was to keep children out of mischief. I snuck out of the bathroom after the other girl left. I was never sure if anyone ever knew that I was there. 

FFFFUUUUUUUUUU!!!!

THIS is the very beginning of why I am afraid of bathroom mirrors. To call Bloody Mary you had to chant in the mirror, you see. Unfortunately for me, the mirror in my grandmother’s lone bathroom was HUGE. I had to stare at that thing every day after that traumatizing ass day. I always wondered if Mary was going to “come” for me. So far, so good but anything could happen (see Fear #1). 

Fear #3 – Death

I think this also started when I was a kid. I lost my first grandmother (not the one I lived with) when I was about six, and then I lost my pawpaw when I was about eight. I was not particularly close to my grandmother that died when I was young, but I did adore my pawpaw (the grandmother I lived with’s husband.) He was a really sweet, nice man. He cared about sick people, poor people, people that needed help. He devoted his time to them. He was Christian in a way that doesn’t really exist anymore. When I lost him, it devastated me – but I did not understand death enough to fear it.

I began to fear it after watching some really demented show that I should not have watched. I cannot remember the name of the show (if you know what I am talking about please tell me!!), but it scarred me. I cannot remember the specifics of it but basically, there is this village of people who make a deal or a wager with “death”. In the show death was personified – probably as a guy in a black cloak, but I don’t remember for sure.

 The people win the wager and death has to go away, never to return. The villagers were really happy for a long time, until one of them got really sick. One after one all of the villagers began to get really sick, really old, really miserable. By the end of the episode they were all writhing in agony from some affliction or another but they just could not die because they had sent “death” away. They were all begging for death….

That shit…..woah. Imagine being a 9 year old and seeing that! That one show began my fear of death that I think, is a healthy and natural thing for everyone to have – at least for a little while.  

What are your fears (besides really long blog posts)? I really want to know! Thanks for reading!

Story links:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/30/new-face-eating-attack-video-miami-rudy-eugene-18-minutes_n_1555653.html

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/florida-zombie-attack-naked-man-storms-girlfriend-house-bites-chunk-man-arm-article-1.1099760

http://www.ibtimes.com/another-zombie-attack-naked-florida-man-jeremiah-haughee-climbs-roof-bites-home-owner-and-cop-722177

1/30 Things: 20 Randoms

It's in my nature - but I try *really* hard not
to be truly narcissistic (bonus fact!)

I ran across a cute little blog while obsessively clicking on links on Pinterest today – Hopes and Dreams. I clicked through a few posts, envying the picture perfect people and their picture perfect life until I ran across a 30 Things post. Basically, you answer a question about yourself on this list every day for 30 days. This is something doable for me as I am both looking for material to blog about and am excessively narcissistic.

So, here is day one: List 20 random facts about yourself. As a disclaimer…there will likely be no rhyme or reason to this list so please forgive me if it goes a little off the rails.

1. I have grey eyes. I used to be really disappointed that I didn’t have bright blue eyes or pretty green eyes, but at this point I actually like them. How many people do you know that have grey eyes? Probably not that many.

2. My first concert was Def Leppard. I think I was 10. No, I was not a fan.

I love that the one guy is wearing, like, pantaloons and
his girlfriend's shirt. 

3. I have a weird sock obsession. I always wear mismatched socks, and they are always obnoxious colors and prints. I have done this since I was a teenager.

4. I have PCOS – Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. It makes my life hell and complicates every aspect of my health; but I am finding ways to overcome it. There is no cure.

5. I am a dog person, but I love animals in general. I have and will always prefer dogs – big dogs. Right now I have a husky (as I have mentioned) and a pitbull.

6. I need music. If I really need to get something done, I need music to do so. Cooking, cleaning, schoolwork, blog writing…music will push me through it.

7. I don’t drive. I used to drive but I lost my license. Long story.

8. I haven’t cut my hair in 16 years. Another long story. It had to do with a traumatizing hospital incident.

Holy shit! He is really, really naked! 

9. I read historical romances. What can I say? I wish I did not like them, but I do! I read plenty of other things that have actual substance, but I do love a good cheesy period romance.

10. I am an artist of sorts. I have made jewelry, drawings, paintings, candles, soaps, and lots of random things. I love to create but need a safe space to do so.

11. My first “real” relationship was with someone twice my age. I was 16…he was 36. We met on the Internet on AOL chat. I was online dating pervs before it was cool!

12. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I am a senior in college and I am not totally sure I am on the right track. I guess I’ll figure it out one day.

....probably.

13. I had all four wisdom teeth and another tooth pulled at once with no sedative. I’m fuckin’ hardcore. If I had known about how painful it was going to be for the next month I would have just suffered with the toothaches, I think.

14. I used to collect tons of incense and candles. I ALWAYS had candles and/or incense burning in my room when I was younger. I think I set my hair on fire leaning over my dresser once…

15. I was raised, primarily, by my grandmother. I do not regret this. I love my parents very much but I don’t think I could have had a better childhood outside of my mamow’s house.

16. I have several unfinished novels. One is actually about my grandmother.

17. I got beat up for the first time in 1^st grade – by two 8^th grade boys. I then got punished by my principle for “lying” about it.

In retrospect, I was a miniature, female Tyler Durden
back then...except I got the crap beat out of me and
it wasn't on purpose. 

18. I sleep with 8 full sized pillows. I use each one at certain times in the night as I toss and turn.

19. I have one older half-brother who is 10 years older than me. He lives in a nursing home and I have not seen him in almost 2 years.

20. I was a tattoo and body piercing apprentice – it was my dream. I eventually learned that it was not for me, but that, again, is a long story.

I saw waaaaay too much of this shit. 

Same old routine

I find that most of my days are extremely boring. Same old routine, same old house, same old me day after day after day. Having an extreme lack of funds tends to limit my capability of going and doing things. Not having a job makes that “one day folding into the next” thing even worse. So what is life like for an unemployed online student? Here is the essential breakdown of my never-ending “day (omitting things like peeing, bathing, taking out the dogs, etc.).

10:00 a.m. (this is being pretty positive – most days it’s more like 12:00 or 1:00 p.m.) – Wake up

10:15 a.m. – Fuck around on Internet

Add lol cats to the table and thats about right

11:00 a.m. – Breakfast

11:20 a.m. – Look for job

2:00 p.m. – School shit

4:00 p.m. – Lunch

4:20 p.m. – More school shit mixed with general fucking off on the Internet

10:00 p.m. – Dinner

10:20 p.m. – More Internets

3:00 – 4:00 a.m. – Pass out

Basically…that’s it. Occasionally I get up and take my husky for a walk at night. Other than that, ya, …lather, rinse, repeat. But occasionally something really weird happens – something that is so surreal that you question whether or not it is actually happening.

The last time this happened to me was about 2 weeks ago. I was (as usual) really bored and decided to take Shao (my husky) for a walk around the block. Our walks are never really that far because I am incredibly out of shape; she is incredibly out of shape; and its sticky, nasty, sweaty Florida in the summer.

Every day in Florida outside of December and January...

I felt pretty good that night. It was late so there was no one around. I was wearing a really comfy broomstick skirt that always makes me feel like a gypsy princess when I wear it, I had makeup on (for once), and Shao seemed excited to go – which at her age (14) is always encouraging. I didn't feel like pulling on socks, so I just slipped on my husband’s (clown shoe-sized) indoor/outdoor slippers and headed out. The walk is pretty easy – flat ground and mostly sidewalk so no need for sneakers, really. Shao and I walked, slowly, around the block. I remember thinking that it was eerily quiet. I have a really unnatural fear of random zombie attacks so I got a little paranoid.

Have you seen Florida news?
Why WOULD'NT I be terrified?

Suddenly, it began to rain. I mean really rain. It didn't even work up to a hard rain as it often does; you know, a small sprinkle that gradually works its way up to a hard rain – nope, none of that bullshit. It felt, in that first moment, like someone was playing a really cruel joke on me; like I was the punch-line to some cosmic joke. 

Ugh...what is it with that guy?

Shao and I stood there for a minute, just in total shock. I began to feebly shield my hair and my makeup from the downpour; I became really agitated. I looked down at Shao who was staring anxiously at the route home, but standing still and patiently waiting for me to start moving. I realized then that life was happening. This simple, every day event was life and I, symbolically and literally, was thrashing and trying to shield myself from it. I gave up and just accepted that yes, I was getting wet by a crazy fucking monsoon; and no, there was nothing that I could do about it. I actually smiled; I laughed and stopped shielding myself. If there had been anyone on that deserted street to see me they would have thought that I was mad; and maybe I am.

 

I composed myself, held my head high, and began the soggy walk home. Shao slowly walked by my side; the rain clearly stressing her out. We trudged on, my long hair a big sopping mess, my makeup streaming down my face. I realized how heavy my skirt was – it was completely wet…like it could not be any wetter if I had jumped in a pool with it on.

 I rounded the corner to the alleyway my apartment is on and I almost twisted my ankle.  The alley was a mixture of wet sand, mud, and rock. The far too big, slip –on house shoes were making very difficult to walk. I considered slipping them off and walking barefoot, but the rock and gravel would hurt my feet really bad. I started to feel a little desperate. My eyes were beginning to hurt from all of the rain water and running mascara. The rain was so loud, pounding off of the tin roofs of sheds and car windows. I have severe PTSD and the sounds, the desperation I was feeling began to turn me to panic. I began to pick up the pace; I tried to jog but I could hardly walk let alone jog with the way the shoes were sticking in the ground. Then I looked up and I saw something that I really didn't expect. There, silhouetted by the light on our patio, was my husband with a huge umbrella.

It was like something out of a romantic comedy, truly!

In this instant all of the panic, all of the desperation went away. Here was this big, strong man braving the weather for me. Without hesitation he put the umbrella in my hand, smiled at me warmly, and took Shao’s leash from me. He asked if I was okay and slowly led me back home when I told him about my ankle. When we got home, we laughed about it and had a good night together. What is the point of all of this? I am not sure, totally, but I know it has something to do with appreciating life right now. When I saw that man walking towards me in the pouring rain, I knew that he would always be there for me. With all of the loss and pain I have had recently it has been hard to see anything positive in my life – but in that moment I saw him, and I knew that everything was okay. 

Nerd Rant #1 - Game of Thrones (spoilers galore!)

Hahaha...no really...the husband and I have done this
(more than once)...

A few days ago, I finally got around to finishing out season three of Game of Thrones. When my husband and I heard about the show, and that the show was going to star Sean Bean, we thought that it might be a good idea to read the series of books. He and I are both pretty nerdy and love to read books similar to the Game of Thrones series, so we bought our first paperback and took turns reading it through.

I may have gently set that Kindle on
my pillow...BUT THIS IS HOW I
FELT DAMNYOU!

We were both hooked, but for different reasons. The husband seemed to really, truly enjoy the complex storylines and the complexity of the characters. I had my favorites as well (….yes, *had*…thanks George...), but I kept reading for the spite of it. I cannot even tell you how many times I threw my book across the room only to begrudgingly pick it back up later and finish the chapter. The later books in the series were bought in digital form and I also, on several occasions, rage quit reading them as well…though I more or less dropped my Kindle on the bed and flipped it off rather than threw it.

So why “for the spite of it?” Because Martin seems to work his absolute hardest to make his readers stop reading, to make them hate the books. He makes you care for the characters and then he takes them away in some sick, sadistic way. The show reinforced this surprise by casting the first big surprise death with one of the only actors I had heard of (Sean Bean.) As I read (before the show aired), I felt assured that good old Eddard and the Starks were generally safe, since Sean Bean was Eddard and surely they wouldn't

kill off one of the major actors in the show early on.

In retrospect...it *is* Sean Bean so....
http://www.comicbookmovie.com/fansites/MsKyle08/news/?a=41776

This brings me to the infamous Red Wedding scene. I dreaded the episode the entire TV series. I knew that it was coming and I hated it. I hated looking at Joffrey’s stupid face every episode (though that slap was DAMNED satisfying)! (you're welcome!)

I hated the endearing love story that they grew between Rob and his wife. I hated how much I truly cared about Catelyn as a character and knowing what was coming for her…and then! That blood curdling scream she lets out…just wow. 

The show (and books) is very much a love/hate paradox for me. I hate all of the unending sad, terribleness of it – but love the anticipation of “who’s going to die next?” I hate that I love some of the characters – some of the real bastards in the books – as much as I do. Tyrion, Jon Snow, Arya, and Davos are probably some of the least-evil people that I like; but I find myself growing fond of Cersei of all people! The child-killing, scheming, brother-shagger!

"Jamie and I are more than brother and sister. We
are one person in two bodies. When he is in
me I feel whole" ...really? Just...no. 

Seriously...

 I even have a sort of sober respect for Tywin, Littlefinger, Jamie, and Varys.  I love that Martin makes me question my own moral standings. My one major complaint about the series is the rape thing. You do not see it as much in the show, but in the books….good lord. Every woman is apt to get raped at every moment – it is (very) ridiculous and pretty disturbing. My theory is that Martin has a bit of a rape fetish that manifests itself in his writing. I get that it happens (I really do) and that in the world his books are set in there is a kind of raw ugliness in which bad things happen really often… but do we really have to talk about how this person or that person is going to get raped in every single book? Take a deep breath and relax on the rape culture George, please.

Well, I do suppose that is about the extent of nerding out I will allow myself for one blog post. I realize that this was pretty rambling and nonsensical, and I thank you for your endurance! If nothing else I suppose it proves what a complete and hopeless dork I am for GoT!

*Closing words of wisdom*

Poetry post #1 - Ignorant Bliss (1999-ish)

I decided to go ahead and lend some credit to the title of this blog and include some "poetry." I was going to make one of those step-by-step walk-thru posts of me making dinner last night but the pictures all came out crappy (lucky you!). Instead of my vegetarian pad-thai recipe you get "Ignorant Bliss."

Thankfully, the poem is not about this kind of "bliss"
Picture found here: http://www.thristhan.com/ignorance-is-bliss

So much angst and....hair....mmmhmm...
p.s. - Dax was my favorite. 

In the late mid to late 90's I wrote a ton of rather nonsensical poetry similar to the style of Jim Morrison (whom I have already discussed) and the band Acid Bath - which was *huge* for me back then. They were dark, broody, really sexy (well, sexy to late 90's grunge fan-girl me), and my hot guy friends (again, this was *quite* subjective...) liked them. I decided that I loved their lyrics so much that I would try to write like they did. My guy friends loved it. I "inspired" one of my best guy friends to begin writing poetry as well. 

Like this but with runny black eyeliner
and a Nirvana t-shirt

This poem was one of the survivors of one of my many poetry purges, in which I decided that everything I wrote was unworthy of existence and either ripped it all up or dramatically burned it. I would swear off writing only to give it another go in a day or two after "mellowing out." 





As a rule, I will be trying to talk a little about my mental state during the writing of each poem I post in hopes of finding some connection to what I write and how it correlates with my mental illnesses. Since this was so long ago, I cannot remember my "exact" mental state - but I can tell you that it was a pretty decent time for me. I had a good group of friends, my family life was pretty stable, and I was creating a lot of art and poetry. I did not have a "love-life" at this time, but was still recovering from a major heartbreak that was probably at least a year or two old at this point. I still cried every other day or so over it - was a blathering mess really. 

No shit....I cried like this really regularly back then, but
that is a story for another day.

Ignorant Bliss (1999)

Underneath the creeping veins I sleep

Gripping onto my latest reality

He takes me for everything he needs

Squeezing me until I’m dry

I don’t care what he takes

As long as he is happy, so am I

Kinky masturbation and severe mutilation

These are what little boys are made of

I slit myself silly, bleeding pure anxiety

We take each other again and again

I rape him in all aspects and he never suspects a thing

As long as I am satisfied, I am happy

A web of confusion weaved with

The deadliest of poisons

These are what little girls are made of.

A deep sleep of nightmarish creatures

A rapist, a mime, and a politician

All silent stalkers

Beware of the Unaware

"Beware of the Unaware"...what the hell does that even mean? It sounds mysterious and scary, in any case I suppose. Well, thanks for giving it a read and feel free to give me your opinion of what my state of mind might have been way back then!

An open letter to Adam Duritz

So, anyone who knows me well knows that I have a weird "obsession" with Adam Duritz - who is in the band Counting Crows. It is not the "fan girl" obsession where I obsessively follow every single event in his life - who hes seeing, who he's friends with - anything like that.

This is what I do when my husband washes dishes,
not what I do when I listen to A. Duritz.

It's more like I am addicted to his music. I love his voice, his passion, and the way he articulates himself. His music inspires me; it soothes me - when I put on a Counting Crows album it feels like I am talking with an old friend or reading my favorite book once again. So, ya - I just wanted to clarify that when I say "obsessed" I do not mean ape-shit crazy stalker obsessed.

Nor do I mean "ape-shit crazy enough to a (really bad) life-sized tattoo of his head on my body." 

So, without further delay, here is the letter that will never be read by its intended recipient!

So, here it is three or four hours before I have a paper due for school, and I am writing a person that will never see - or even remotely care about - what I am writing. That should tell you a little something about my state of mind! But here is what I want to say...your music, your lyrics, hit me hard when I was a teenager in the mid 90's.

Ya. This was pretty much how I dressed then. I don't dress that differently now, sadly.
Picture found here: http://fashionwithnina.blogspot.com.au/2009/11/comfortably-numb.html

 Like many people, Round Here hit me hard - I related to it on levels I did not yet understand. 

Years rolled by and my mental illnesses seemed to get worse. I was diagnosed and hospitalized for manic depression and other assorted illness in 1997. The medication never really helped. I jumped from bad situations to worse - got married to a very abusive, very controlling husband who nearly killed me. Through it all, your music - the Counting Crows - was one of the bands that allowed me to relate to another human being - even though it was in an abstract way.

After a messy divorce and a few traumatizing events in my life, I sunk harder. I drifted away. I found that I was no longer the girl that laid in bed drawing and listening to music all day - I was no longer the girl that wrote bad poetry and found inspiration everywhere. I had disassociated from life - pulled away and locked away. I fell in love, got married again - but I, to this day, have problems relating to him the way I should. A few years ago I found myself drifting back into your music - having a kind of 90's revival. 

One of the really cool things about C. Crows is they are just as
amazing live as in a studio...maybe more so.

I found songs that gave me a feeling of deja vu when I listened to their lyrics. I thought, "This guy knows exactly how I feel." And that was comforting to me - it still is. I have begun to try to find myself again - to find the little girl drawing unicorns and bumblebees - to find who I was before the walls of my fucked up mind came crashing down around who I am and who I want to be. I want you to know that there are people like me whose soul you speak to - whose heart you inspire. I am still fighting this thing - this "fog" - but I know that when it begins to be too much to bear I can put on one of your albums and re-center myself for a while. Thanks for that. I wish you, and the band, much more happiness and success and look forward, always, to more of your work.

My first blog entry...

So I begin the daunting task of writing my very first blog post – but what to say? The reality of it is that it probably doesn't matter that much as no one is going to read this. If you are taking time out of your busy day to read this, well….sorry.

 I actually took the time to search for some tips on writing the first blog post and the so-called holy grail of it seems to be….wait for it...be yourself.

The problem with this concept for me is that I am really not that interesting. I have my quirks, don’t get me wrong! But don’t expect any life-changing health tips from me (Gwenyth Paltrow?). 

I guess I should explain the title – manic. poetic. pathetic. I suppose the manic is a reference to my mental illnesses. I was diagnosed with manic depression and institutionalized when I was 16. I have since been diagnosed with a fun-filled array of other things – dissociation issues, PTSD, OCD, and something called major reoccurring depression. Is it all true? Maybe, ask four different psychiatrists and get four different diagnoses. What I do know is – I am sick. I am not violent or seeing things or anything of that nature – I pretty much just always feel like shit and am afraid of everything.

Like Tom Cruise..I will always be afraid of this man, no matter how much therapy I receive. 

 

Poetic – I began writing poetry around the same time my mom gave me her Doors album. I realized that words can mean everything and nothing at the same time.  She bought me a Jim Morrison poetry book and I fell in love. His words were cryptic but they held truth for me. I began to mimic his style – I would use words in my writing that I did not understand. I would make sentences that were hopelessly jumbled – and somehow I kind of pulled it off. Was any of it great? Probably not even close – but it was an outlet for me, and still occasionally is. While I can’t promise you that any of my poetry that I post will be “good”, I can promise that it was a piece of who I was when I wrote it.

Pathetic? Well, as you can probably tell by my description of “manic”, I am not the most positive person. In fact I can sometimes be a real caricature of the sad, depressed woman – it can be bad. Bad to the point that I have few personal connections – probably because no one wants a friend who is always down and leeching the sunshine out of their life. 

Yes, pretty much like that...

Well, I suppose that’s it for now. Thanks for giving me a read. Hopefully I will find enough discipline to post again!