What an ass.

I am glad the American Psychiatric Association has commented on this issue. May Tom or someone dear to him experience a mental disorder in the future. I realize not everyone needs meds, but some do. Tom Cruise just needs to fuck off and go away.

When did random video on a web site become cool again? ’cause every damn blog (ok, not every, just many scrapbooking ones), seem to have these music videos on the side.

Putting video (or flash, or any midi sound or music files, you get the point) on a web site, causing even my cable connection to load it like molasses…not a good thing. And not providing a way to turn the damn shit off? Oooh, really annoying. Actually, beyond annoying and stepping into the irritating and quite irksome category. It surpasses the absurdity of someone taking away my beloved right-click feature. It’s not cute. Never was. Isn’t now. It’s just wrong.

Seriously, I was reminded of 1996 and that wasn’t a pretty thought.

Got some meds. Yeehaww, happynekkiddance, excited. You get the picture.

But dry mouth sucks.

Help them out, if you blog, take the survey!

I’ve had my car for a couple months now. My license plates arrived in the mail while my car’s transmission was being worked on. In fact, I remember getting them when moving out of the last apartment. With that in mind, I still don’t have my plates on my car.

What should be a task so simple which others probably don’t even think about it, has become quite tedious and rediculous for me. True, the majority of this time delay has been my unequivocal ability to procrastinate, but come on now. How difficult could it be to buy some damn screws to put the plates on?

Apparently, difficult for me. I picked up some hardware at Home Depot last month. I carried them in the car for a few days but when I finally tried them they were too wide. A week later I finally stopped in at Auto Zone and just grabbed a kit that looked ok since, according to the guy there “all work”. Um, no. Not all work, as they were too short

Another trip to Wally World and comparing the bolts to another one and I tried again. Nope. Still nothing. Damn things are long enough but get stuck half-way down the thread.

Interesting dilema, considering I’ve never had a problem finding a good screw when I needed one.

At least they’re cheap. Heh.

I’ve left a message with one office and have been looking around online for other psychiatrists in the area. I’m extremely frustrated with SuperPages and may actually dig out a physical phone book. It seems there are plenty of doctors dealing with sex therapy if I was so inclined.

Which I’m not, and have no need for such thing. I just need some meds, people.

I’m exhuasted but been wide awake the past couple hours. In order to tame myself in some form I scrapped yet another layout. Fourth one of the week, which is pretty good since the last paper one I did was in February.

Tonight’s layout: I miss daddy

From earlier this week:
Cowboooeeeey
Stylin’
April 2005

I’m quite partial to the last one there as I printed out and used my own digital paper designs.

I remember when I lived in the University District I ran into a lot of crazies. Ya know, the ones talking to themselves, the ones babbling to no one and everyone, the ones with the far off look in their eyes, leaning against the bus stop, looking right through you..

Every time I used to see them I wondered what it must be like, how awful it would be to have so little control, and then I’d look away and say a prayer to the god I don’t believe in to keep my sanity, to never end up that way. So far gone, as I used to classify it in my mind at the time.

I was bipolar then, I knew it, and I was scared. I defended myself to those who asked about my disorder and at the same time wondered if I could possible be like those heard of in the news.

When I was pregnant, I cried. And cried. I was so afraid I’d get to a point where I’d hear those voices, or I’d feel so much despair I’d hurt my baby or worse yet, leave her behind. I laugh, I joke, say “no more kids, Ashleigh’s enough” but I know I mentally can’t handle another one.

I’ve never felt that despair, never felt suicidal, but last night was scary. Tonight, I feel something going on inside me but can’t get ahold of it, can’t grasp anything but my hair to tear out. The last couple hours I’ve felt something sneak up on me. Like I’ve been shocked, but the feeling isn’t fading only increasing each minute. And if I let my guard down it’ll take over.

I’m trying to talk to Bree but my hands aren’t under my control and this is taking ten times as usual to type.

I remember sitting on a waiting area just off the Ave and 15th, waiting for a bus to go somewhere, who knows where, and this one lady was writing ferociously in her notebook, looking up, babbling nonsensical stuff. I tried to keep from locking eyes but she found me. I remember thinking “oh my god, she can tell, she knows I’m like her” as she spouted off something about the president, FBI and other paranoia. She left when her bus showed up and I pulled my backpack into my lap and prepared to wait for my bus in the refreshing silence. The other impatient bus riders were shuffling their toes, playing with their cuticles, anything but looking at her, and at me, as apparently I was too welcoming of the crazy one to their liking.

You know how you hash out a sentence or two in your head when something is happening thinking “I should write about this”? It’s been like that a couple hours now, but so many thought processes I can’t single one out without battling others. I’m flooded with memories, childhood, high school, drunken nights, sexual encounters, Ashleigh, everything, it’s all happening RIGHT NOW and I can’t stop it.

I feel like I’m sick, the room spinning, but it’s not blurry, the motion so real in my mind.

Just made it through a somethingorother attack or whatever it was, a momentarily burst of crying, pounded my head with my fists, breathing, but not an hour long so I’m okay I imagine.

Keep trying to count to 10 but losing track.

Ok, ten minutes later and the voices are there…they’re mine, not god, not some evil thing, just me, my thoughts, mentally telling me to shut up.

Nice.

Okay, silence. That’s better.

I am better, much, but still quite out of it. I slept in until Noon, and then only got out of bed because it was stuffy and hot. Some cleaning happened earlier, but I spent most the afternoon working on a 150×50 graphic for my Design Team Members. So simple but took forever. Now, to do one for the fans of Cashew Style as many have been asking. Maybe I’ll get to it in the next year.

I feel like someone has injected me with caffeine. My hands are jittery, can’t focus, my limbs are twitching and my head does it every now and then. Making it very difficult to type with minimal typos.

I suppose my whole system is all fucked up right now and just needing a bit to mellow out.

Oy, kinda tough to design in Photoshop right now, damn mouse going everywhere.

I think.

I came here to write a post because I’m feeling calmer (not calm) than ten minutes ago. I don’t remember posting anything…typing…nothing. Just talking to Laura, trying to calm down.

Fuck, I’m going in monday whether I can afford it or not.

I need tot alk to someone, I want to call but all I’m going to do is cry. i can’t stop crying, I’m scared, and I hate knowing I need help but can’t get it.

I’m sorry, friends, for not calling you right now. I just can’t bear to hear the silence because I’m crying and you don’t know waht to say.

It hurts to cry so it ryt o stop but I can’t…I try to take a breathe and anoterh sob comes out. I can’t even keep my eyes open long enough but to

my contacts just keep buckling.

I am so alone.

I hurt so much and I don’t even know why, there’s no reason. I fucking watched Van Wilder, turned off th tv and now I can’t think, can’t think o fwhat I really need to do, what I want, what

I can’t sotp typing ubt my thoughts are so jumbled, so messed up, I don’t know what I’m thinking, doing, typing. I saqe48
fuck

hitting my head won’t make this go away.

I hate that I come to a fucking computer screen but can’t call a good friend. They’re real, I know I just can’t

I hate not having control. None.

What the fuck?

Something is wrong, I’ve never felt like this,

dammit, gotta pee

So I’m battling a decision today. I’ve spent all day thinging about it and I still can’t make up my mind. I’m sure it’s obvious to someone else from the outside but for me, it’s not and I can’t do something unless I’m perfectly okay with it.

I’m obviously not okay. I’ve been fighting through this bipolar crap for a while and I’m just not handling it anymore. I thought with Ash in Texas I’d be doing better, but I’m not. In fact it’s worse, because I feel I can accomplish even more, I take on these things and then it’s suddenly overwhelming. Those damn grandiose thoughts aren’t so out of the norm as they happen, but when I look back I can’t help but wonder what the fuck I was thinking.

My hands can barely keep up with my thoughts and at the same time they’re jittery. It takes twice as long to type this crap out but I HAVE to get it out. I walked down to pick up my Caesar salad wrap with buffalo chicken, enjoyed the few minutes in the sun, but had to fight the urge to just break down while crossing the street. Soon as I came in, I went to the bathroom, sat down, and cried. What the hell? I’m not sad, I’m happy, what the hell am I crying for?!

I spent a good hour venting with Jess this morning, felt better, talked with the receptionist here, felt good…yet I still feel like there’s something I just can’t shake. I can’t concentrate, can’t focus (same thing, but different if you can understand that), can’t sit still, but at the same time just want to find a couch or bed and go to sleep.

My dilema, is whether I should contact a psychiatrist. I NEED help. I can’t do this by myself anymore. Friends are wonderful, great to talk to, but I’m just going to have to find a way to afford some help. I can only control so much with exercise and eating healthy. I can only control so much when I have to work two jobs. And right now, I’m not controlling things very well. Not at all.

I think I’ll wait it out tonight, see how I am in the morning, see if I can make it through conversation with someone without the sudden itchiness to move, twitter and dancing around. And write some notes down because it never fails, I always forget what the hell I’m going to say.

My brain is fuzzy right now. Like I’m drunk, but without the good feeling affect.

“I am only one; but I am still one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; I will not refuse to do something I can do.”
– Helen Keller

This morning is a struggle and for a reason I am not aware. Other than a brief call by Ash a little before 5AM, I slept well and ample enough. I’m not sure what’s going on but I am exhausted, cloudy minded, antsy, yet as if coated in lead.

It is possible this is something related to Monday, but who’s to say, and I won’t find out until I do the pap thing next week and check in with a doc. Considering the day was extremely energetic, I accomplished many things, I was struck with a sudden sense of ill around 4PM, left at 4:30PM and collapsed at my car a minute later. I am lucky to have had someone stay with me and then follow me home until I made it okay. I just wish I knew what the hell was going on with my body and my mind.

Just a link I’m posting here for my future reference.

Homo floresiensis

Yeah, I know I live in Southern California, and I’m completely aware that earthquakes happen, yes, I just happen to live right along a damn fault line…but did the damn earthquake have to wake me up?!

Sheesh. 5.6. Could’ve saved that until I was actually up and awake.

Off to defog my mind and get rid of this feeling that I can’t walk straight. Oh wait, that’s everyday normal for me.

I’m exhausted, looking forward to using my brand new night eye drops, but I am done. At least with this kit and celebration set up. The most difficult part will be selecting the layout contest winner. I am not exactly known for making decisions quickly.

And yes, those are bread tags…in the digital scrapbooking world anything goes.

Here’s the link if you’re so inclined to download: Guaranteed Fresh Nifty Kit

“Say ‘Goodnight Alicia’”

“Goodnight Alicia”

Someone please, please, please, kill usage of the Pharmacy font. Maybe it’s not in abundance everywhere else but it is in the digital scrapbooking world and I am so very irritated by just the sight of the damn font.

Not that it automatically looks awful in the layout or site graphic it’s used on but eeesh, it’s like the useage of Comic Sans, applicable in some situations but beyond its glory days (if it ever had any).

I’m not trying to dig on the users of Pharmacy, nor the original designer, it’s just with all the many fonts available to the public it’d be nice to see more of a variety.

Additionally, I’m getting irritated with seeing MA Sexy everywhere, but at least it’s not as…obnoxiously annoying as some others.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so irritable regarding these things but I take my typography seriously. It frustrates me when it’s obviously not the foremost thought of the creator when designing the final piece. Or if it is, I suppose I should just bite my tongue and realize not everyone has a greater understanding of typography. Or the ability to design according to my tastes. Heh.

Sigh.

Thank you, Johnnie for the questions! What a variety, and I’ve had fun answering them, it’s just taken some time. I don’t mind sharing information about myself but unless asked specific questions I have difficulty knowing just what to offer.

1. When it comes to depression-related issues, many people are misinformed or have misconceptions. When you were diagnosed as being bipolar, what effect did it have on your friends and family? Did any one of them tell you that you just need to “cheer up”?

The true friends never said “cheer up” and that was how I found how who they really were. My good friends seemed to take in stride, pretty much acting like “Oh, so that’s why you’re a nut” and left it at that. There were some people that seemed scared of me all of a sudden, though I’m not sure why. I was actually safer to be around when I had my meds. So many people don’t realize how painful that phrase is. I used to feel guilty when people said that to me when I only thought I was “just depressed”. I made it through high school thinking that was all it was and am glad I survived to find out the truth. Since my diagnosis I’ve discovered that no matter how much I explain it to others and they still think it’s “just a mood swing”, I can’t associate with them.

Most of my family weren’t surprised as some form of mental illness seems to run in the family. It actually helped in a sense because my dad finally went in to get help and was diagnosed as bipolar as well, started on medication and is thankfully a different man that I grew up with. Granted, my mom worries even more, just because now she realizes how dangerous this disorder can be. The questions have increased recently since I don’t have insurance right now and am without medication, but I worry, too.

I am aware of others who are bipolar and don’t have the support of their family and friends and it saddens me. To blame someone for their own idiotic actions is fine, but to do so for something of which there is little or no control over is just ignorant. All this said, I don’t use my disorder as an excuse for my own actions, but it does help to know why I do so many things, why I react and respond to situations as I do.

2. You are a very creative person. Does your current job tap into your creative juices?

My current job does not utilize my creativity whatsoever. I’m a bookkeeper for a small property management company and my day is filled with numbers and accounts and unless you consider nearly rebuilding an accounting and organization system from just about nothing as art, it’s pretty lacking in the creative department. I do love working my boss and other coworkers who are a blast to work with and I have felt right at home from the beginning. The fact that I have no bookkeeping experience prior to this job means nothing to them and they show me more respect than other jobs I’ve been beyond qualified for.

I finally realized I wouldn’t quite cut it if my day job required regular creativity and I switched my education goals to Anthropology and headed in a different direction. Unfortunately, one of the many side affects of my bipolar disorder is that my creativity isn’t constant. It only exists in its truest form for moments and I have to flow with it and ride it as well as I can. Then it ends and it’s a struggle to squeeze the tidbits of design out of me.

For example, my recent redesign of Cashew Style happened in a very short time. From idea to design to upload, a small period of a couple weeks at most until the finished product. Yet last month’s kit took weeks to get out of me, and I’ve yet to redesign Niftyfingers for two years now. It comes and it goes and as much as I hate to admit it, it exists more when I’m not on medication.

3. It looks like both of us have something in common–we both learned HTML on our own! What is it that sparked your interest in learning how to write web pages?

The need to share and the desire to do it all by myself is what sparked me. I hate asking for help, love learning new things and when I get an idea I go with it or it kills me inside. My first site in 1997 wasn’t the greatest, but it was a way to practice my design skills, learn the code. Each new design has added to my list of abilities and it becomes easier as I go. There are still plenty of things I don’t know how to do, such as Flash or more complex CSS layouts but only because I haven’t tried. I love code and I love piecing together a design as it gives me great pleasure in the final result.

4. You say that you used to have a section on your site, entitled “Newsworthy,” in which you chronicled your crazy weekend adventures. Tell us about the craziest weekend adventure you’ve ever had.

Wow, I wish I could find those pages but I’ve lost them on one of my old zip disks (that was six years ago, bound to happen).

I’m not sure if it’s the craziest of them all, but the night when Donilyn and I hit the UDistrict and surrounding areas of Seattle, hellbent on having pictures taken of us. I lived in a basement apartment in the University District at the time, just off the Ave and behind a night club (only the alley separated us). We would hit some bars and clubs in Snohomish County most of the time but had recently started checking out by me (drawing a blank on the name).

Call it childish, but we had fun. D an I would put on this devil mask when driving around just for other peoples’ reactions. Easily amused, but that’s pretty obvious about me. Anyhow, this one night (always night, rarely got moving until after 10PM and that was early), we went to the place around the corner, had a few drinks, people watched some. The bar closed and we headed out, hungry and lookin’ to hit up Jack in the Box down the street. We’d been talking all night about going around town, taking pictures of ourselves with the mask and other local landmarks such as the Freemont Troll and the reading statues near the bridge (still can’t remember the name of that thing). As the night ended we shrugged the idea off until we were in the drive thru, looking at everyone piling out of the bar. It was one of those moments, we turned and looked at each other and said “we could get someone else to take the pictures!”

We pulled into the Safeway parking lot to eat, at the same time observing and hunting down the right specimen to help us on our conquest. After a few minutes this decent looking guy came up to the car and immediately we recognized him as someone we’d both turned down for a dance. Mostly because we rarely danced when we hit the bars, but partially because he was already oozing goober tendencies. Cute, but apparently not our style. Good enough for picture taking abilities, though!

We’re talking and we ask if he wants to hop in and go around town, taking picture of us. Obviously, I’m sure he had more in mind than us climbing all over the Troll, but hey, we utilized him in is weak moments while we could. And we did just that, had him drive with us and take the pictures (took us forever to find the damn Troll even though we’d grown up there we had never seen it before). Even got one of us with the decorated people and the devil mask on the one reading the Bible. I found that extremely satisfying and one of my favorites.

See, this seems somewhat tame as I look back, but I think the most memorable part was heading back to my place afterwards for some more drinks. Using my abundant supply of alcohol D and I mixed some drinks, nearly forgetting the guy sitting on my futon in the living. I suppose he’d served his purpose already. Next thing we know he was up and acting like a goof, stripping down to his whitie tighties (so not flattering on most men). Drunk as we were we just laughed and took pictures. And then he was completely naked. So of course I took some pictures. Preserving the memories, that’s me!

After a few minutes he became extremely annoying (probably when we told him to put his clothes on and he didn’t) so we tried to get him to leave. When he didn’t we took his shoes and threw them outside the door into the hallway. After he ran out for them we locked the door, not realizing his other clothes were still inside. I saw them and then contemplated tossing them out my two-foot peeper window (at sidewalk level) and leaving things at that. But D and I couldn’t do that…eventually got tired of him apologizing outside my door and tossed him his clothes.

I still have those picture, and I’m not quite sure how the photo lab got away with processing those. Most likely because the other pictures on the roll were obviously taken by drunken hands and it wasn’t your every day porn shoot. They’re hidden. In my Rubbermaid tub in storage, far far away from curious minds until I get around to tossing them, because I apparently remember the night just fine without their assistance.

5. Do you still have crazy weekend adventures? Not like before, but when I get out I know how to have a good time and enjoy the time plenty. It’s not the same without Donilyn, but a night a couple months ago of drinkin’ and dancing hit the spot. The drinks were all free (bartender didn’t think I could tie all the stems of a bowl of cherries, he should’ve known better) so it was even better.

With Ash at her dad’s this Summer I may get some more adventures in but nothing too crazy. I may only be 28 but with all the responsibilities now I just can’t do the crazy and stupid ass stuff I did before.

The Official Interview Game Rules

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying “interview me.“ (please identify yourself - leave a URL to your blog).
2. I will respond by asking you five questions ând each person’s will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

I just broke my Tivo remote. I don’t even remember throwing it then the next minutes it was on the floor. And of all pieces to fly into nowhereland, I can’t find the damn Tivo button. Figures.

I wish I could get upset without throwing something. Just once.