In Search Of The Rising Sun

Well, here we are on the eve of a whole new year. I have spent this year in a holding pattern, and only now am I beginning to take off. Will gravity hold me earthbound, or will I break free and soar? Only time will tell. I can only hope that I will make it. So, as tradition dictates, I am here to outline my goals for 2008. With a bit of luck and a whole truckload of determination, I will conquer them.

1. The first and foremost goal, and possibly the most labor intensive, is to complete the semester without dropping out. I am almost legendary for starting things and not finishing them. But there are only so many second chances, and I can't keep hoping that I'll be able to get it right 'next time.'

2. I also intend to stay at my current job until at least August. Not only is the work physically demanding and therefore good for me, but I have a tendancy to screw things up whenever they are going good. So I am going to do my best to make sure that I don't throw it away. My bosses are wonderful and it is incredibly difficult to replace an employer who is so compassionate and understanding as they are.

3. My final goal for the year is to see Evan and decide what I want to do about him. He says he is coming out to visit his family (and therefore me) some time in the next few months, and at such time I need to decide whether I want to keep him or just be friends. He's fantastic, but he's also timid. Very timid. So we shall see.

These are my goals. In text for anyone to look at. It's much harder to break a commitment when other people know about it.

This year was mainly a year of senseless motion with no real direction. I will not dwell on it, beyond to say that I ended it on a beautiful note, watching the stars until sunrise (albeit in below freezing temperatures) on top of Table Mountain with a bunch of friends. We were seeking the rising sun. Let us hope that next year, as we did this morning, I find it.

So long and goodnight. See you all next year.

--Dragon Read more!

Home Sweet Home

I completely forgot the most important news of all: I moved. I now have my very own apartment. For the first time ever.

Due to a mess of complicated and asinine mistakes by the management, it turned out that my mom and I didn't didn't qualify for the 3 bedroom apartment. So they asked us to move out. Obviously, I was very upset. There was no way I could afford rent anywhere else, and my Mom and I had already decided that she would move back in with Russ. On top of that, thanks to my mom, my rental history is completely screwed because we didn't clean up the old apartment before we moved out. I kept trying to, but it's very hard to do all that stuff when you are working all the time and have a screaming 2 month old who wants you to pay attention to him. She didn't have a job and had plenty of time, but she would always say she was busy or tired or , and therefore couldn't help or even watch Snuffles while I went over and did it. But I digress. So anyway, I was freaking out. Then Allie, the manager came over and told us that she thought we would qualify individually for the 2 bedrooms here. She re-did our applications and made it look like we'd never moved into the 3 bedroom at all, and backdated it so it showed that we had lived in the 2 bedrooms all along. And she got us apartments right across the hall from eachother. And, even better than that, she gave us free rent until February. So even though they screwed up, it turned out to be better for us then if it had never happened at all. Not to mention that the apartment is gorgeous and brand new. And I have my own room!!! I hated sharing my room with Chase. His crib and various peripherals took up half the room, and now he sleeps through the night because I'm not in the same room with him. All in all, it's the best mistake that's ever happened to me. Read more!

Sore Throats Suck. And Stuff.

Hi blog, remember me? Yeah, me neither. So I have not written anything in a ridiculously long period of time, partially due to being insanely busy and partially because I'm just lazy. But I thought I would get back into the swing of things before the new year. Best to start off on the right foot, or I might not start off at all.

In the past month(ish) I've been having some interesting things going on. There's been work, the buffin, Christmas, Evan, the general fact that I am broke as efk, and all that other holiday goodness.

Since there has been so much (or perhaps little) going on, I don't really feel like detailing it all, but a few highlights are in order, for posterity and such. Chase rolled over (yay! gross motor skills!), ironically while wearing a shirt with Santa and his sleigh on it that said "this is how I roll", by the way. Evan and I have been... 'talking', as we've put it. Whatever the heck that means. Hard to do much else when you live three time zones apart. I finally got off my lazy butt and registered for school and financial aid (which means that I should be getting a laptop next month. Mmmm tasty. My mom finally got a job, and she loves it. It pays very well, too. I am seriously needing to look for a new job, but I've been putting it off. Bad bad Dragon. Oh, and I've had a seriously awful sore throat for going on 12 days now, which I caught from Chase. Poor thing is sick too. Well, as far as I can think of, that's pretty much it.

So for fun and kicks, here's a picture of the Buffin.

Kind of fuzzy, but that's ok. He really likes it when I put his feet on his face. Silly kid.

--Dragon Read more!

Thank God For Free Night And Weekends

I feel electric. There's really no other way to describe it. I haven't been this exhilarated in... years, honestly.

I spent 10 hours (yes, you heard right, TEN. FULL. HOURS. That's 3 phone changes because my battery ran out and I had to switch to the house phone and vice versa, and innumerable disconnects because of my crappy cell signal) on the phone with Evan yesterday. He didn't call me and I couldn't stand the anticipation, so I called him. We were on the phone for not even five minutes and we just clicked again. It was as if no time at all had passed since we last talked. Is it possible to have chemistry from three time zones away? Because we did. And I mean some serious chemistry. It was simply electric. We covered virtually every topic under the sun, and just kept going. He's the only person I've ever met who can stimulate my mind in such a way. It was incredible. Neither of us wanted it to end. We kept talking and talking until finally it was imperative that we get off the phone because I had to get ready for work in 6 hours.

How do you not talk to someone for three years and suddenly start talking again and end up acting as if there was no time in between, as if the relationship had never ended in the first place? That's how it felt. I felt so completely energized, like a battery that had been recharged. All day I've felt that way, this overflow of power and energy. I want to do everything all at once. I want to swallow the moon whole. I want to draw, write, create. WTF is wrong with me? I can't seem to wrap my head around it. My thoughts are in a blur and I can't slow them down. I feel so deliciously electric. Somebody save me before I do something stupid.

--Dragon Read more!

Upchuck Seven Up

I don't know why, well, I sort of do, but today I feel insanely nervous. It's rediculous. I feel far more nervous than I ever do about getting up on stage. It's the hollow nervousness in the pit of my stomach that keeps hinting that it may decide to cause me to throw up any moment. I sort of know the reason, but even that is incredibly rediculous.

There's a guy, Evan, who I dated a few years back. He was essentially the perfect boyfriend (for me). He was hilarious, fun, spontaneous and above all, an effing genius. He's the only person I've ever met who had the capacity to make me feel stupid. He is just so inordinately intelligent. He never did anything to make me feel stupid, but I know he is perfectly capable, and he doesn't even realize it. He is charmingly self effacing and while he isn't the most attractive guy in the world, I found his personality incredibly alluring.

We never had a single fight until the day we broke up. I'm still rather confused as to what happened, but as far as I figure, too much changed too fast. I had moved to Kansas and he didn't come with me. We were still together and he might have come out to Kansas later on, but I moved back here after only two months because I was miserable. He had just gotten used to the idea that I was gone, and I suddenly came back with almost no warning. We met working at the same place, and I got my job back there when I came home. The first time I saw him when I came back my boss was there, and I didn't want to be all affectionate with him in front of her, so I just gave him a quick hug. I think that upset him. So we weren't able to talk for a few days, and for some reason he was really cold to me until one day I purposely met him after work, and he just didn't seem to want anything to do with me. So I got upset and dumped him so he couldn't dump me (yeah, I know, WTF is wrong with me, right??)

As I said, I still don't get it. Ironically, shortly thereafter he did end up moving to Kansas with a friend of his. We emailed back and forth for a while but then I didn't have a computer so we lost contact. I recently found him again on myspace, (I'm kind of a myspace whore) and he was really excited to talk to me again, so we exchanged phone numbers.

He's supposed to call me at some point today. I never really got over him. We broke up so suddenly, and before that he was literally the perfect boyfriend. His only flaw was the fact that he doesn't do change very well. I mean, he was 25 years old and I was his first girlfriend. (I was 18 at the time, by the way) So while I'm really excited to talk to him again, it's kind of weird.

I mean, I know what attracted me to him in the first place, and I never really stopped being attracted to him. I moved on, dated other people, but now I'm single and there's nothing to stop me from feeling that way again. And right now he lives in Ohio, so that would be a bad idea. Not to mention the fact that I don't think he feels that way about me anymore. At least, I would imagine he wouldn't, the last time we talked was about 2 and a half years ago. He made some allusions in the messages he's sent me, but that's just Evan for you. The boy is a hopeless flirt and he doesn't even know it.

So yeah. That's what's going on. I don't get me sometimes. I think I've got myself all figured out and then something happens and I react in some unexpected way, like getting super nervous about a silly phone call. What a freak I am.

--Dragon Read more!

Space, The Final Frontier

Mom's moving out. She and Sam are going to move back in with Russ, my stepdad. So Samantha, a friend I've had since I was 13, and Christian, her boyfriend, are going to move in with me. Do you know what that means??? I GET A ROOM ALL TO MYSELF!!!! Sweet! Chase and I will take the upstairs bedrooms and they'll take the downstairs bedroom, and so I'll finally have a room all to myself devoid of any buffin paraphernalia and all kinds of nice empty space that I won't have to clutter up! Yay!

--Dragon Read more!

More Holiday Cuteness

It's funny, I haven't been writing lately because there is too much to write. I don't write often enough and so everything builds up and I feel overwhelmed because when I sit down at the computer something always comes up. So I end up saying nothing. How silly is that? Anyway, I took Chase to the mall on Sunday to get his picture taken with Santa. This is by far the best Santa ever, I'd have to say.



--Dragon Read more!

Sandy Claws Is Coming To Town

It has been my long-standing tradition to wear a Santa hat on Thanksgiving.



I have decided to implement a similar tradition with Chase, at least until he is old enough to protest:

(tell me this isn't the cutest face)

I very much love to dress him up in various cute things. For example:



And of course, my favorite, the Biker Buffin:



I loves me some cheeky outfits :D

--Dragon Read more!

Not Enough To Go Around

Life isn't going so well.

I just started a new job and I tried to quit today. The only reason I didn't quit is because the owners, Andy and Cyndy, made me feel so much better. We sat down and talked about it and they were completely understanding.

I feel like a wreck. I had the worst day. Everything was going wrong. I just freaked out. I couldn't do anything right, everything was just so overwhelming I burst into tears over any little thing. I feel like I'm drowning. I can't seem to see a way out. Every time I think I've figured it out, something else goes wrong and I feel like everything is pressing in on me. I can barely breathe. I hate this feeling. I just want it to end. I was fantasizing about getting hit by a truck today. Why would I think that? That's not normal. I don't know what to do. I am afraid to talk to anyone. I have a really hard time telling anyone anything negative about myself. Even when I try, it's like I've got an invisible hand clamped over my mouth that won't let me speak.

I stopped taking my meds about a month ago. I don't think they were working any more. I started having panic attacks again, so why take the meds if they don't stop the panic attacks? My mom thinks that I should get a different prescription, but it's so hard. It took me over a year to find a psychiatrist who actually listened to me and did anything to help me, and then a month later he went out of business. I don't want to deal with it again. It was so hard. I hate psychiatrists. I hate counselors. They do nothing to help, they don't know what it's like. It must be nice to be normal, to be able to handle things without freaking out.

I'm sick of it. I don't know what to do. Everything is so overwhelming. If I could just get a few nights of uninterrupted sleep, maybe it would be ok. I don't know. I am gasping for air under water. What do I do???

--Dragon Read more!

Good News

I finally found a new job, by the way. Merry Maids. And I go to the college on Saturday to register for my spring classes. Things are finally starting to fall in to place. Almost, anyway. Thank goodness.

--Dragon Read more!

Setting The Standard

I am so tired.

I am smart. I am a very hard worker. I am a loyal and dedicated friend. I take pride in myself, my work, and my effect on others. I sometimes complain too much, but I try not to. All my life, people expect more from me than they do from others, because I am smart, I am a hard worker, I am a loyal and dedicated friend, and I have a sense of honor and pride.

In school, I was expected to deliver not just what was required to make the grade, but also to go above and beyond. At home, I am expected to be an example, to behave better, to know what is 'right' and what is 'wrong'. At work, I am expected to work hard every moment that I am there and do so with cheer and good humor. In my friendships, I am expected to forgive, to understand, to wait on the sidelines patiently until I am needed. All because this is what I have proven capable of.

All my life I have been held to a higher standard, and I am bloody sick of it. I fought so hard against it in high school that I nearly flunked out. At work, I am one of the hardest working employees but I get crap hours because I am not one of the 'kool kids' and rarely any recognition, because I always go above and beyond that I guess they no longer feel the need to reward me for doing what I am going to do anyway. I have set the bar so high for myself that I don't even know how to surpass it.

My idiot brother Sam gets molly-coddled and rarely held accountable for his actions because he has pretended to be an idiot for so long he has become one. He gets treated great any time he actually bothers to do remotely well, and I get nothing when I do because it is assumed that I will do it regardless. When I was 17 I was getting kicked out or grounded constantly for doing things far less serious than what he does. He is a liar, a cheat, a thief. He does the bare minimum for his schoolwork and my mom signs off on some assignments he doesn't even do just so she doesn't have to deal with the hassle of actually making him do them. He is scum in training. But that's ok. Be a complete waste of space, break things, steal things, lie like it's going out of style, treat everyone around you like shit, and when you actually do something even remotely worthwhile, you'll get treated like a prince.

I am so incredibly tired of being 'better', 'smarter', 'more capable'. I want someone to notice that I am a hard worker. I want someone to say, 'You know, you're doing a great job. I can always expect you to do what you're supposed to. Thanks.' How hard is that? I am so sick of it.

I don't believe that others are less capable than I am. I think they are simply less willing. Set the bar low, and everyone will be pleasantly surprised when you actually perform what you are really capable of. Set it high by always exceeding expectations, and that becomes the expectation. It's not fair. What am I supposed to do? I won't be a slacker like most others, I have too much pride. But why is it so much to ask for a little recognition. I thrive off of it. I work so hard to get it that I almost never get any. It's ironic, really. The harder I work, the more I try to do my best, the less likely I am to get any kind of reward or recognition. So incredibly asinine.

I am smart. I am a very hard worker. I am a loyal and dedicated friend. I take pride in myself, my work, and my effect on others. I have a strong sense of honor. And I hate it.

--Dragon Read more!

November

Read more!

Lose Control

This is how it feels to
Lose control
And I'm trying so
Hard not to take it
But another night like this
I might not be able
To make it
Like I've got the choice now,
Oh no
So I'm running hard for you
Well past the time
I should have let go
Like it will change
Something, no, nothing
I should have let it go
But I haven't got
The choice now, Oh no
Haven't got the choice now
So keep on pushing
Hard on me now
With your cruel little smile
That only I see
Another night like this, now
I just might not make it
Another fight like this, now
I just might break it
Still I have to keep
Keep on running hard for you
Even if I have to fake it
And this is how it
Feels to lose control
It was never supposed to
Be like this, no
I'm gonna lose control
I haven't got the choice now,
Oh no

I haven't got anything coherent to write lately. I've been trying so hard to find a new job, to deal with my mom and Sam and their bull, I don't know what to say. I'm sick of whining, but I haven't got anything worth not whining about. If that makes sense.

--Dragon Read more!

Only Rock And Roll Can Save Us Now

Went and saw Chevelle on the 28th. It rocked. They played with Tyler Read and 2 Cents. Very good show. I got to meet Tyler Read and have my CD signed and my picture taken with them(that's Erik and me in the middle). It was on Erik's phone though, so not a very good picture. Still, it was awesome. They were very nice. One of the guitarists gave me a quarter to buy their CD because I was short. How cool is that?



I got into a fight with my mom today. It was over Sam stealing a dollar from me, of all things. An effing dollar. It wasn't that she denied that he stole it, no, she was upset because I was pissed off that he stole from me. Yeah, cuz I'm just supposed to sit back and let him steal from me. He does it all the time, and this is the first time it was money. It wouldn't be such a big deal, if he wanted it he could have asked and I likely would have given it to him, but he lied and said he put it in my mom's purse. There was no way he put it in her purse. There were $10 in her purse when I checked it, all folded together. If he had put it there, he wouldn't have pulled the money already in there out and folded it up together. That's just not how he operates.

She of course called me a bunch of highly uncalled for names and accused me of all kinds of things, namely being lazy and having a bad attitude. Yeah. Ok, cuz it's ok that she treats everyone like shit because nothing is going her way, but if I get pissed off that someone is constantly stealing my stuff from my room WHILE I'M ASLEEP mind you, then I am an effing evil bitch. Uh huh. So now she's saying she won't help me with college and I'm not even sure if she's going to watch Chase when I go back to work on Saturday (I have today, Thursday and Friday off). Just great, right? And I don't know whether or not she is just being pissy or if she really means it. I don't think she means it, because she doesn't stick to her guns (note that this is the reason Sam is a criminal-in-training who never actually gets disciplined because he simply ignores her). But if she does, then I'm royally screwed.

I'm so sick of this crap. I absolutely loathe relying of anyone else, because people constantly stab me in the back or walk all over me, even my own mother. I should have seen it coming though, she started kicking me out when I turned 17 and as such caused me to get kicked out of high school so I had to go to an adult school. I had to work my ass off to make sure I graduated. I got no help. But dear precious Sam, that's a different story. She is doing everything she possibly can to see him pass. The brat is 17 and in 10th grade. She pulled him out of school and put him in home school because obviously regular school isn't working. Of course it isn't working. He's a spoiled brat and doesn't give a damn. He doesn't care about himself, or anyone else for that matter. He wants to fail because he could care less whether or not he actually becomes a productive member of society. He thinks that mommy is going to support him when he turns 18 and is still in high school. She probably will. I hope she doesn't though. He needs to get kicked out and see what life is really like.

It's not fair. I stayed because I wanted to make her happy. I never went to live with dad. I chose to stay. And I got treated like crap, kicked out, grounded all the time, and of course I never got anything good except for a bike that she left down south to make room in the Uhaul for an effing queen size bed for Sam. Like he needed a damn queen sized bed. He ruined it within months of getting up here anyway. But Sam comes back and lives with her when he's 12, about as effed up as a person can get, and he's the flipping prodigal son. He gets all kinds of stuff, a TV, a nice stereo, PS2, PSP, all that. And of course he never got into trouble because she was too afraid he'd go running back to dad. God I hate emotional people. He would never run back to dad. He beat him and made him believe he was a complete idiot. And look, now he really is one.

I'm so sick of this. I need out of here. I need to be able to take care of myself and not have to deal with other people and their stupid irrational emotional bullshit. I am so sick of other people.

Oh yeah, other than that, I had a nice Hallowe'en. I dressed up as a witch and dressed Chase as the Jolly Green Giant (pictures forthcoming) and went to Kim's and then Sara's. It was nice.

--Dragon Read more!

And The Beat Goes On

I've been rather busy lately. I didn't have internet for a week when we first moved in, and then when we did get it I didn't have a spare moment to write.

Chase is being rather fussy lately. He suddenly has decided that he will wake up even more often during the night and half the time he wants to stay awake. Um, no. Sorry buddy, but that's just not happening.


Suki died.



We couldn't bring her or Gordo to the new apartment because they don't allow pets. Not a problem in the past because we brought them anyway, but this place has a very strict resident manager and you can get kicked out for the slightest infraction. Erik was going to take her. She was at the old apartment for a few days by herself for the majority of the day, and she might have gotten into something that made her sick. She seemed fine when he took her home, but he called me the next day and said that she was acting sick and throwing up, and was afraid that she might have something that she could give to the other cats. I miss my baby girl.

I got a new car, a '93 Mercury Tracer. It's not as pretty as my old car (a lavender '95 Dodge Neon... I loved my car so much), but it has a brand new engine and is in excellent condition, so it's better than my Neon, even thought it is white with a red interior (i hate hate hate white cars, especially ones with red interiors). I had to get a new car because my poor Neon's engine was failing and it was just a matter of time before the transmission went out, and that could be a potentially dangerous thing.

I started back at work today. I didn't want to go back, but I haven't found another job yet, so I had to. It's not as bad as it was before since I now no longer have a large and ungainly growth protruding from the front of me, and so I didn't feel like i wanted to chop my feet off and beat myself to death with them. That was definitely a nice change. Also, it felt really good to be doing something semi-useful for a change.

--Dragon Read more!

From Dwelling to Home

Been feeling like crap. Things around here have been sucking incredibly hard lately-- broke, sleepless, stressed out, effing moronic me forgetting to take my meds every day so I've been feeling even more crappy, and worse, the running is in my head again. Sometimes I feel stifled, like my skin is too tight and I can't breathe, and I just want to run. When everything is a mess and I feel like there's no use cleaning it, and I just want to start over with a clean canvas. Those times where I feel like grabbing my CDs, some clothes, and my journal and just driving until the gas runs out. This has been one of those times.

But today there is hope. Finally we got some good news- today we heard from the people at the apartment complex we applied to. It's a brand new complex (only a few people living in it right now), it's absolutely gorgeous and feels blank, no impressions or leftover unpleasantness from previous owners (I get impressions in places. I've turned down more than a few awesome apartments because they made me feel sad or creeped out. Wierd, I know.). We have to turn in a few things and we are pretty much guaranteed to get the place.

It's CHIP (Cali's low income housing program, for those who don't know), so the rent will be about the same or less than we are paying now for a beautiful 3 bedroom apartment. It's a really unique design, too: it's in a three story building and occupies the top two floors in a building with 8 units, 4 3 bedrooms and 4 2 bedrooms that are located on the bottom floor. The upstairs is accessed by a door leading to an internal staircase that is part of the upstairs apartment.

There are 2 bedrooms and a bathroom on the top floor and one bedroom and one bathroom on the lower floor. The bottom room would be mine, and I'd have my own bathroom (OMG YAY!). It is awesome. Filled with light, all energy star appliances, a kitchen with a fantastic work triangle, and lots of storage space. It also has a large storage closet on the ground floor for things like barbeque equipment and the like.

I am so excited. I love moving, it makes me feel new and satisfies the nagging urge to run. Best of all, my mom will finally have her own room (right now she sleeps in the living room), so we will have a real living room and won't have to retreat to our rooms after about 9pm. Yay! Late night movies and all that when I can't sleep!

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.

--Dragon Read more!

Sleepless in Chico

Disclaimer: I have a VERY dirty mouth. I curse like a sailor. (You can thank my high school friends for that) Please forgive me if I cause offense.

I just want to sleep. How is that too much to ask? Sleep- a basic human need. But no. I get no sleep. This is partially my fault. Sort of. I don't go to bed until midnight or one. But in my defense, I usually can't fall asleep until then anyway. Then, the buffin wakes up either around 2:00 or 2:30 or if I'm really super lucky, at 4:30 or 5:00. If he wakes at 2:00, he still wakes up around 4:30. At 4:30 he suddenly decides that, hey, it's time to wake up and make happy little buffin noises and fuss whenever he pushes his binky out of his mouth or I actually start to fall asleep. Yep. Frickin' fun times, I tell you. Finally, he goes to sleep sometime after 6:00. And then wakes again at 8:30. And stays up for the next 3 hours. Oh, and did I mention I have insomnia? Quite often it takes me hours to fall asleep anyway. Except when I initially fall asleep. But when I wake up after that, all bets are off. No fucking sleep. God. I just want to fucking sleep.

Oh, and pretty much anytime I try to eat, he suddenly needs to be held. Try eating hot cabbage and polish sausage with a windmilling buffin in your arms. Yeah. So not happening. Effing Erik. I hate him I hate him I hate him. He is completely incompetent. Never comes over lately until I ask him. Never flipping buys anything for Chase unless I ask him (had to type Chase like 6 times-- kept typing 'Xhase' lol), and can't change a diaper to save his life, can't burp him, can't take him anywhere because he's an idiot and doesn't know how to drive safely if it where to garner him a million dollars for every mile he drove. Effing idiot. I hope he trips and falls on his big stupid face.

'Oh, I have a son. Oh, I'm so proud of him. I love him so much. Blah Blah Blah Chase Blah Blah...' Imbecile. If you love him then why the FUCK are you not here spending time with him? What about when he needs diapers and clothes? Oh and how you made me feel bad that I made you buy that vaporizer and baby Tylenol when he was sick with the cold YOU gave him, huh??????

You pay like $100 a month in rent to your sister, who, by the way, wants your freeloading ass off her couch like now. You don't pay car insurance, because you have an insurance card that you stopped paying like 8 months ago because you said that they can't prove you don't have insurance when you get pulled over cuz your card says it expires in November. Your only bills are your car payment and your cell phone bill. You don't even pay that medical bill you have or the 3 credit cards that you maxed out.

I don't care if you are suddenly working 30 hours a week. Inevitably, one of your clients will die, or go into a home, or something else, and your hours will be cut drastically. And of course you won't bother calling in to ask for more hours for weeks or even months. Because you're a stupid lazy slob. But you refuse to look for another job because 'you don't like searching for a job'. Yeah. Cuz the rest of us just effing love it.

Oh, and then when you do come over you smell like wrankled ass shoved into a paper bag and ding-dong-ditched on my poor unsuspecting furniture. I tell you as politely as possible that you reek and you need a shower, even offer the use of my shower, and you tell me you have no clean clothes. So I give you 2 dollars that I could use for my clothes, because everyone in this house needs clean clothes in the worst way (but at least our 'recycled' clothes are still pretty much clean and we have the forethought to at least use Febreze) and I only have enough to do one load for each person, and I've been sleeping on a bare mattress for 2 weeks cuz I only have one set of sheets and the buffin spit up all over them and I really need to wash my blankets cuz they smell like dog, not to mention my mom's blankets, which now have eau de wrankled ass on them cuz you sat on the couch when she still had her bedding on it. (yes, that is the biggest run on sentence ever) I tell you to take a shower and wash clothes and then come back over, but of course you don't. I effing hate you. And, on top of the fact that you are completely useless, YOU GET A FULL NIGHTS SLEEP EVERY NIGHT AND HAVE THE BALLS TO BITCH THAT YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP ONCE IN A WHILE TO LET THE CAT OUT. Asshole. Effing useless, uncouth, thoughtless, inconsiderate, waste-of-perfectly-good-carbon molecules asshole. Go eat a bowl of dicks.

--Dragon Read more!

Dear Nasty, Skanky, Trailer Trash Hookers Who Insist On Mentally Putting Their Filthy Paws All Over My Son

Dear Tami and Mari:

Let me first say that for one brief moment I liked you. Then you turned into a bunch of crazy skanky bitches. You remember your other daughter, Desi, don't you, Tami? The one I was friends with all throughout high school? Well she's on permanent disability because she can't even function in the real world thanks to your effed up family, siccing all the other kids on her and treating her like filth, attacking her and scratching up her face with your nasty nails, making her sleep outside in the trailer, oh, not to mention such gems as forbidding her from seeing her friends, and calling them up and saying that they were a witch and devil worshiper on their 15th birthday? Remember that one, Tami? Well I do. My effing 15th birthday, you dumb wench. Well, suffice to say, I don't like you. And I don't like your fughly daughter Mari, either.

In true family tradition, when Matt was home last year on his birthday, you told him, Mari, that I had emailed you all these terrible, untrue things, and made him hate me. He wouldn't even talk to me so I could prove that you were lying. But that wasn't enough. Nope. You thought it would be fun to send me awful emails saying all kinds of horrible things that Matt said about me (which he didn't) that I don't even want to repeat. Finally I just stopped reading them and deleted them without even looking.

Then, this year, months and months after he realized exactly what brand of worthless scum you are, you tried to contact Matt again through Faith's myspace. Of course, neither of them wanted anything to do with you, especially after seeing all the racist trash on your profile. You tell Faith that Matt is going to leave her for me, and that no matter what, he will always come running back to me, any other girls are just a diversion, so she better keep a short leash on him and not let me have anything to do with him. WTF? Seriously. Don't go telling my friends that I am going to steal away their boyfriend. I like and respect Faith very much, and I don't have any intentions of 'stealing' him away from her, whether I am capable of it or not.

Then, they try and tell you not to contact them, and you have the cojones to call Faith's children future hookers, fags, and drug addicts, (and those are the nicer things you said). Faith's kids are 5,6, and 8 years old. Yeah. Nice job, assface. You have class just oozing out all over the place, don't you, Mari?

So that said, I don't care if you work with Erik. I don't care if you just "luuurrrve" babies. Quit flipping asking him about Chase. Quit asking about him, quit asking if he can bring him to work so you can see him (and no doubt touch him with your nasty little hands), and most of all, quit leaving asinine comments on his myspace saying that he 'looks just like Erik' and most of all, acting as if I had nothing to do with the whole creating bit. For all intents and purposes, Erik is barely in the picture at all. He spends maybe a few hours every few days over here, can't even burp the child correctly, and I can't trust him to take Chase anywhere because he drives like an idiot and refuses to drive safely even with constant reminders. Plus, he keeps pot in is car and there's no effing way that I'm going to let him take Chase anywhere with that around, lest he get pulled over (a common occurance) and searched.

HE IS MY FUCKING SON, YOU MORONS. Keep your nasty evil germs away from him, mentally and physically. Keep it up and I may hunt you down and punch you square in the face... maybe not, as we all know, fughly people have nothing to lose. But I will teach you not to mess with me, cuz you are getting on my last nerve. Wenches.

--Dragon

Stupid jump still isn't working. Argh. Read more!

Squishface

I thought perhaps I should post something happy and lighthearted to balance out all the negative sounding posts lately. Life is not all bad, really. I'm just having a sort of bad time lately thanks to boredom, poorness, and a lack of more than 4 or 5 consecutive hours of sleep (and that's on a good night). But there are a few good things going on. There's Chase, of course (the kid's going to grow up thinking his name is Buffin. I call him Chase maybe once or twice a day and Buffin about 4732913746984623967 times a day), and I've been working on the carriers when I get the chance (although 3 of the 4 of the sewing machines in the house have suddenly decided to go on strike-- without any forewarning by the way-- and none are working correctly except the serger), and my dear friend Zin has asked me to help her with her fantastic political blog, Locke's Closet. So some things are going well.

And now for the fun stuff- baby pictures, anyone?







--Dragon

BTW, for some unfathomable reason, I can't get the jump to work anymore. I have to go in and see if the HTML got screwed up somehow, which I don't look forward to at all.
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Love Shouldn't Hurt

I had a post in mind today about being poor and how tired I was of never having enough money. Then I read Granny's newest post and found this:


My father is friendly, charismatic, funny, helpful, and entertaining. He is also an abuser. People who have met him often can't believe that he could be capable of some of the things he has done. So often people believe that they would know an abusive person if they saw one. The sad truth is that no, you can't. People like that are very good at hiding that part of themselves from the outside world.

As he was a trucker, we didn't see him often until he hurt his back when I was about 10, so I think there was much less of it before then. I'm not sure whether it had to do with it being pre-accident, or just that we didn't live with him on a daily basis. I suspect it was a little of both. I think that I saved my brothers from a lot of it growing up. I was always trying to protect them. I was the oldest, I felt it was my responsibility to keep them safe. My mom had it much worse than we did, though. I probably don't know the half of it, but the things I do know make me sick.

He was both emotionally and physically abusive. Especially after he hurt his back. He was on medication that made him hallucinate and paranoid. He believed my mother was cheating on him with a multitude of other guys while she was at work. He saw phantom numbers written everywhere- on the walls, under the mattress, on his power tools, in chalk on the sidewalk. He would show my brothers and me the numbers he thought he saw, and threatened to punish us if we "lied" and said we didn't see them.

I was constantly telling him no, daddy, there were no numbers. He was imagining things. He didn't believe me and I would get in trouble. I tried so hard to protect my brothers from that, but I couldn't be there all the time. They weren't as strong as I was, and so he would get them alone, they would agree with whatever he said. They were too afraid not to.

Once, when I was about 11, I did something bad (I can't for the life of me remember what), and he instructed me to go out to one of the trees in the back yard and cut off a switch. Then he had me stand on a chair in front of the dinner table where my brothers were eating dinner, had me pull down my pants, and beat me with it until all the leaves came off. It's funny, even now I cringe at using the word "beat". I know I didn't deserve it, and I never felt as if the abuse was my fault, but I still feel some bizarre need to protect him, to make light of it.

There are other incidents that I can think of, but this is the one that always stands out in my mind. Not even so much for the pain, but the sheer humiliation. I couldn't look my brothers in the eye for days afterward. There was name calling, being belittled for mistakes, being told I was fat.

I so wanted to be perfect. I wanted to make my dad proud. I did the best I could in school because I knew I could and because it was one area where I excelled. I was daddy's little helper, I was always there to help him out. I wanted to be useful. It hurts, to think of the stark contrast between the man who beat me with the switch and the man who taught me to use power tools and let me design and help build an easel for my birthday present. How could they be the same person? How could that kind, funny, charming man that was my father turn into the raving, angry asshole who would hit his wife and his kids?

I hate that I have experienced this. The worst part of it all is that I know I am capable of it. I have a violent temper and when I'm angry my words are like daggers. I try so hard to avoid getting angry, because I hate the person I become. The meds have helped, but I still see the tendency and it comes out far too often for my liking. I have such a hard time talking about it, admitting that I could do something like this. I don't want my son to grow up ever knowing that kind of pain. Love shouldn't hurt. Mommy and daddy should be the embodiment of safety and happiness for a child. It's so hard to say something like that about yourself, though. When I am in public, talking to a stranger, even a counselor or psychiatrist, I change. I am suddenly happy, charming, friendly, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly. It's effortless. It's also why my bipolar went undiagnosed for so long. And digging beneath that, showing someone the black marks on my soul is just about the hardest thing I can imagine doing.

I have been a victim of domestic abuse. I don't really talk about it often, but occasionally something happens to remind me. Yesterday my brother and I were talking and he casually mentioned a time my dad beat him. It occurred to me that normal families don't have those kinds of conversations. It made me so sad to hear him say that. We need to find a way to stop this-- to protect those weaker than ourselves from those that would hurt them. Sometimes we even need to protect them from ourselves. We need to stop the cycle. Every victim is a potential future abuser-- how's that for irony?

--Dragon Read more!

Just Who Do You Think You Are?

Yay! I've officially been tagged for a meme (Is it meem? Or me-me? Or perhaps mem?) by Cherylann. I'm so excited :)

The Rules: You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had. When you are tagged you need to write your own blog-post containing your own middle name and the rules of the game. At the end of your blog-post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

My middle name is Corrine (pronounce Ca-reen, as in careen out of control, not Cor-rin)


Creative: I like to think that I am a rather creative individual-- I can draw, sew, write, sing, and act (yay! I'm like a one-man band!) and I'm great at coming up with creative solutions for problems that no one else thinks of. McGuyver has nothing on me :)

Obstinate: I am very stubborn. Once I make up my mind about something, it pretty much takes an act of God for me to change it. I am very argumentative when it comes to someone trying to change my opinion or disagree with me on how to do something (my way really IS better! I swear!), which can be pretty irritating to people around me, but it's also a good thing, because once I make up my mind to do something, I do it, no matter how long it takes.

Reader: I love to read. I probably spend at least 3 hours a day reading, either on the internet or actual books. If it has words on it, chances are I'll read it. I even read the shampoo bottles in the shower and the ingredients on whatever box or container is sitting on the table.

Razzle-dazzle: (isn't that a great word?) I'm very theatrical, I love being different, standing out, having people recognize me in public. I have a rather unique sense of style and I love to wear clothes that have personality. For example, in high school I made this wonderful light blue cloak lined with black leopard print material, and I routinely wore to school. (I know, I'm such a dork)

Independent: I could care less what people think of me, beyond whether or not it will adversely affect me (as in, will it keep me from getting a job?). I don't like being told what to do (unless you're paying me, or have a really good reason to). I never really enjoyed being in large groups of people and prefer to be by myself or with one or two other people. I guess you could say I'm kind of a loner.

Nerdy: I stole this one, too, because I can't think of a better thing that starts with N. I read like crazy, I play World of Warcraft often, and have been known to wear cloaks and corsets and other random period attire. So yeah, I'm a nerd.

Energetic: I'm very energetic, and quite often hyper. If I'm not bouncing off the walls, there's probably a problem.

Well, that's me! I don't think enough people read this to tag one person for each letter of my middle name, so I'll just tag the ones I know do read it. I'll tag Granny, Thordora, and Sam, though I'm not sure if Sam reads it very often. So have fun!

--Dragon
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In Memorium

My darling little Kenny died last night. We don't know what happened. My brother was giving him a bath (a common occurrence) and he started squeaking and had a seizure and died. We all cried, even Sam, who never cries. It was the saddest thing I've ever seen. Today after school we're going to the fields outside of town to bury him. I'll miss him and his funny little nose and happy noises.

--Dragon

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Hands Down

I've been remembering. Little things bring up whispered words and late night phone calls. Things I haven't allowed myself to feel for more than a year are seeping through the cracks and bombarding me at unexpected moments. And it makes me feel so alone. Unworthy and so terribly alone.

And it's that much harder because it comes in layers. I am alone, with no one to sing me silly songs and play stupid computer games with, no one to whisper "I miss you" in the early morning hours. But also alone with no one to talk to about it, missing the words that used to break loose like a dam every time we saw each other, The loneliness brought on by harsh words, one year and 1900 miles. I am alone at 3am when all I want is sleep but instead I have to make a bottle and change a diaper.

I just feel so incredibly alone. Running through Darnassas I am reminded of Aaron, who was the first and last person I implicitly trusted. Who I made the mistake of giving a chance, who could have saved me from all the heartache if he had just said, "I love someone else." The rain falls and I am missing my best friend, whose voice I hear everyday but never speaks to me. I talk to his girlfriend every single day, and I've only spoken to him twice in the last 3 months. And I am angry that I am the only one missing sleep at night, the only one willing and capable of taking care of the baby.

I just want someone to hold my hand and say it's going to be ok. I want someone to miss, someone to sing songs to, someone who will help. But there's just me, and there will only be me for a very long time.

--Dragon


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In Words and Pictures

Sometimes there are pictures in my head, aching to be set free. There are words begging to be written, spoken, slashed in red sharpie on bathroom stalls. There are times when the words flow free and I feel like something, someone, like I'm alive. But there times, like now, when it would take all I have to force even a mediocre line. There is a steel door in my head, and right now it's a bulkhead locked up tight. But there's no reason. This ship will not sink. Right now I feel as if i am anchored, or dragging along too heavy a load. I do my best, I write prose, badly at that, and hope it is enough to unlock the door. I hope that the words come soon, that the images sharpen enough to be seen.

--Dragon Read more!

Chucks

Few things are so good for the soul as a good pair of chucks.


--Dragon Read more!

Beginnings

September has always been a month of beginnings for me. Perhaps it is because I spent so much of my life in school. Not only that, but September is when the summer begins to fade and the light shifts from the hazy gold of August to the crisp blue of October. The time changes, the nights grow longer, and the wind begins to blow. I've never had the feeling in January that I do in September, the feeling of wanting to start again and make myself anew.

This September, especially, I want to be renewed. I feel as if I have been on hold for the past year, doing, being nothing. Last fall and winter I was far too messed up to even want to think of changing. I only wanted things to be the way they had been before. I spent most of my time locked in my room wishing I had the courage to slit my wrists. I stopped going to work, and spent the majority of my waking moments trying to lose myself in a game or sitting on the floor of the shower so no one could hear me cry. The rest of the time I tried to sleep, laying on my bed dreaming the surreal dreams of one half-awake.

After a few months of this, reality hit me and I had to pay rent and a slew of other bills I had accumulated. I got a job but lost it within a few weeks because I hated going to work in the morning. I got another one and the same thing happened. Since I was fired, however, I was able to apply for unemployment. I started looking for a new job but it was pretty half-assed. By this time I had gotten my license, so I was free to go wherever I wanted. Instead of locking myself in my room I tried to outrun what I was feeling. I would speed down the highway blasting music as loud as I dared as if it would drown out the demons.

The other benefit of finally having a license was that I started to get out and be sociable. I figured that perhaps I would forget to be miserable if I was around other people. I began going to Open Mic at a local coffee shop, which is where I saw Erik again. We had worked together before when I was the assistant manager at Taco Bell. I knew he had a crush on me then, but I was never interested. He was nice, but not at all "my type". This time was different, however. I thought that perhaps my problem was in going after guys of a certain type, and if I found someone completely opposite of that, I would avoid most of the problems that came with it, so we began talking on the phone and spending time together, and I started to feel a lot better.

Shortly thereafter I started dating, and I felt like a regular person again instead of the mess I had become. I started school and was doing quite well. Shortly after that, I got pregnant. I was so upset. I never wanted to get pregnant, and while I liked Erik, I didn't necessarily want to go passing on his genes to future generations. Call me a snob if you will, but I just didn't think he was necessarily a prime candidate for furthering the species.

Again I fell into that dark spiral. I tried to be happy about it, but all I could see was how this was going to completely screw up my life. I left school because I had started working again, and on top of that had to drive Erik everywhere because his car was broken. It was all too much. I don't see myself as a very strong person, contrary to what many of my friends and family believe, and I didn't think I was capable of taking care of someone else and having a job or going to
school.

At this point, Erik and I decided to get married. I don't know why I said yes. I never really felt like Erik was "forever" material. There were certain things about him that I knew I would not be able to live with for an extended period of time. Perhaps I just didn't want to be alone. The world was looking so big and I felt so incredibly small.

So we began planning a wedding. And more and more I felt like I was trapping myself. Living with Erik, I didn't feel like it was me standing together against the world. It felt as if I was all alone and he just happened to be there. I had to protect him and do all the thinking and planning and making sure everything got taken care of. This was not how I wanted to live my life.

Finally, after months of this, I decided enough was enough and I told him that I was tired of being the only adult, of making all the decisions and taking care of everything. I told him to either step up or get out. He didn't believe me. Of course, I was serious and I ended up asking him to leave.

Then my mom moved in and things got a little better. Still, it feels like one thing after another is going wrong. And I just need something to go right for once.

I started this year in a black hell that I managed to escape, if only part of the way. Things started to get a lot better and then I slid back. I couldn't take the responsibility of taking care of myself and taking care of Erik. Finally someone realized I was serious and said, "Gee, I think you're bipolar. Let me see if I can help you with that." Even though I had been looking for help for months, this only came after Erik called the cops on me because I was sitting in my car having a panic attack and threatening to kill him or myself. Gotta love the system.

(On a side note, one mental health worker told me that no psychiatrist would touch me because I was pregnant and there were no medications you could safely take while pregnant. She even suggested that if it was really that bad that I should just have myself committed until the baby was born. She tried to make me feel guilty for seeking help while pregnant and as if I had no right to life or sanity now that I was an incubator for another human being. If I ever see that woman on the street, I will beat her to a bloody pulp. She has no right to work in mental health and ought to be strung up by her heels and let bleed to death slowly. But I digress.)

Every time that I felt as if things were going ok, I felt prohibited from doing anything that would make me feel remotely useful, because I would just have to stop when the baby was born. I was too tired and overwhelmed to even try.

But now, September is here again and I no longer have to worry about giving something up or having to quit because I'll have to take care of the baby. Now, he's here and I can try and have a life. I plan on starting school in January to get an AA in Computer Information Systems, and I have a combination of 8 weeks maternity leave and 12 weeks CFRA (California Family Rights Act) Leave, so I won't have to go back to work before then. Which on the one hand is a good thing, but on the other, I don't know how I'm going to last almost 4 months without working. My mom and I are going to make a bunch of mei tai carriers and swaddle blankets (yep, I can sew. Pretty damn well, too.) and sell them at local street fairs and the farmer's market, etc., so at least I will be doing something productive.

Hopefully things will be different now. The September breeze brings change, I can only hope it brings it for me.

--Dragon Read more!

The Emergence of the Wee Dragon

Not only do I have a baby, but wonder of wonders, I actually like him. I was so afraid that I'd just look at him and think, "What am I supposed to do with THAT?" Luckily that didn't happen. I am so glad.

Anyway. On to the gory details...

I went into the hospital Friday the 7th at 5:45am. I woke up that morning feeling very serene. I was completely unafraid. The fact that I knew I was having a c-section and I knew what to expect made it all seem completely bearable. As long as I feel I have control over a situation, I can take pretty much anything.

Sara was waiting for us when Erik and I got there. We went to the Maternity department and checked in, and they weighed me and checked my blood pressure and all the usual procedures to ensure that I was in fact alive and not in any eminent danger. They made me put on one of those horrendous hospital gowns and put in an IV. Unfortunately I do not have very sticky-outy veins (that's the technical term for it, of course) and they couldn't seem to find one on my right arm (I'm left handed) so they had to put it on my left arm. Still, it wasn't too bad.

Then we ended up waiting around for about an hour and a half because the doctor was performing another c-section. I think I had to get up to pee about 8 times. It was terribly irritating. Just before it was time to go into surgery, the anesthesiologist, Dr. Anand came in and introduced himself and let me know what he was going to be doing. Then the nurse came in and took me to the surgery room.

We went in and the first thing they had to do was the spinal block. This was probably the most awful experience I've ever had. They couldn't find a space to get it in and it hurt like hell. Dr. Anand eventually had to call in another anesthesiologist to help. In all they had to try 4 or 5 times. I had to hold completely still and arch my back into a weird position while leaning against the nurse, Kirsten (she was fantastic. She was also the checkout nurse and was absolutely the most awesome person ever. Also, she looked a lot like Jennifer Love Hewitt.) By the last time I was trying incredibly hard not to cry because I knew it would make me shake. I kept thinking that if it didn't work then I'd have to go through labor-- without any anesthesia. This was the first time that I really got scared. Just as I thought they were going to give up, they got it in. Suddenly I felt all tingly and heavy. It was the strangest thing in the world.

They got me up on the table and started to get everything ready. At this point they brought Sara in (I didn't want Erik in the room because I was afraid that he would freak out or faint, and I felt the role of the support person was to actually give support)However, I was pretty much out of it so I barely noticed. The spinal went too high because they put it higher than usual since they couldn't find a space. My arms started tingling and I asked if it was supposed to do that. It wasn't, but the doctors assured me that everything was ok as long as I could still move my arms. They kept asking me to squeeze their hands. I felt like I was having trouble breathing and I had to consciously make an effort to breathe. They kept giving me oxygen and I could barely talk because when I did I felt like I had to choose between talking and breathing. Obviously, I chose breathing. I felt like I just wanted to go to sleep, but a little voice in my head kept telling me that if I fell asleep I would stop breathing. At one point the tingling crept into the back of my skull and I got really scared. From the sound of his voice, Dr. Anand got a little worried, too.

While this was going on, Dr. Mazon was busy doing the surgery. They had warned me that while I wouldn't feel any pain, I likely would feel some tugging and pushing, and that when they actually pulled the baby out I would feel like I couldn't breathe because they would be pushing down hard on my stomach to help get him out. The one good thing about my spinal was that it was so strong I didn't feel anything at all. I didn't even realize they had started the surgery until I heard Chase cry. I asked if that was the baby, knowing that it was but it seemed so far away that I wasn't sure if it was real. I remember distinctly thinking that it was weird that he was actually saying "wah wah."

They handed him to Sara after they cleaned him up and made sure everything was fine. She brought him over to see me but I didn't even have the energy to turn my head and look, so I could only see him out of the corner of my eye. Shortly after that they took him out to the recovery room to be with Erik and wait for for me to be stitched up. When they finished they lifted me on to a gurney to take me to the recovery room, and as soon as my head was elevated I could instantly breathe better. I was so relieved, because they had told me the spinal would take a few hours to completely wear off, and I was afraid that I would spend the entire time just trying to breathe.

I didn't hold Chase for the first three hours because I was shaking so bad I was afraid that I would drop him, and I didn't want them to put him on my chest for fear that it would put pressure on my lungs and I wouldn't be able to breathe. As you can see, I really enjoy breathing :). They brought me ice chips because I was so thirsty and I thought that they were better than ice cream. It was funny because I was still shaking and so I was dropping ice chips all over the place.

Finally they decided things were well enough for me to go to the mother-baby room. Once we got there I was able to hold him. I love the way new babies move. I remember when I was with a friend when her baby was born how adorable it was to hold her and feel her little arms and legs moving under the blanket. I felt the same way about Chase. I was afraid that since I hadn't held him for the first three hours of his life that it would cause some kind of permanent damage. There is all this mostly pro-breastfeeding propaganda that makes you feel like if you don't have skin to skin contact with your baby right away, then your baby will be scarred for life and you will never have a healthy bond with them. Although he's only a week old, I'm pretty sure there is no permanent damage. And if there is, it's not likely caused by that.

The first pain medication they had me on was morphine. It made me feel pretty good, but it also made my face rather itchy and had the rather unpleasant effect of causing me to have to throw up randomly and without any notice. They were kind enough to put me on tylenol with codeine and ibuprofen pretty quickly, and after that everything was fantastic.

For the rest of my stay, everything was wonderful. All of the nurses and the rest of the staff were incredibly nice and treated me like a queen. Apparently they took up a poll and all the nurses agreed that Chase was the cutest baby on the ward :). Erik was great and I was completely amazed at him for not protesting or complaining when it came to changing diapers or anything else. (Once we left the hospital it was a completely different story, but I'll explain that later) We only had to call a nurse to help with Chase once. The food was surprisingly good, and even the bathrooms were really nice. All the doctors and nurses were completely shocked at how well I did. I was doing so well that they even let me go home a day early.

Everyone who came to visit was absolutely in love with Chase. Erik's family was so excited. It was cute watching them vie for the chance to hold him first, or feed him, or even change his diaper. My brother's birthday was the 9th, and when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday he said he wanted to come to the hospital and see the baby. How sweet is that?

The day I left I was actually able to go to Walmart. My mom said she was trying to keep up with me, instead of the other way around. I was able to walk up the stairs to my apartment with no problem, which surprised me because everyone said it would be the hardest thing I'd have to do for a while. When I got home the house was beautiful. My mom had spent the whole weekend cleaning it from top to bottom and making everything look wonderful.

At my appointment the following day to have the staples from my incision removed, Dr. Mazon told me not to even bother making a two week follow up appointment, which they usually have c-section patients do, because he felt that it would be pointless as I was doing so well. And today, I was feeling so well that Erik and I took Chase to Open Mic to show him off, and I didn't even have to take any pain medication at all the entire day.

Overall, I think that everything was fantastic. The only bad part was the spinal block, and that part lasted a little over an hour. Would I do it again? Absolutely not, but only because I truly do not plan on having any more kids. If for some crazy reason I did, however, I would definitely want to do a c-section, even if I knew the spinal would go the same way. I feel as if I am doing better than some women who had regular deliveries. I am so glad that (almost) everything went the way I wanted. People talk about having a "positive birth experience" and I feel as if I had the best one possible.

So that's what happened. Now I can stop feeling guilty for not writing it down and actually get to posting random mumblings again.

--Dragon






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Superior Leak Protection, My Ass

Dear Pampers Swaddlers:

You suck. You so totally suck. I'm not even going to finish off the two bags of you sitting on the shelf. You're so bad that I am going to forego my normal suck-it-up and use it until it's gone mentality. That's right. You just suck that much. I don't care if the 8-14lb diapers go halfway up Chase's back, because at least they don't leak all over every single item of clothing he owns. So goodbye, you shoddily manufactured, overpriced asscovers. You're supposed to hold pieces of crap, not be them.

--dragon

Yes I know this is a total copout of a post, but it's hard to type with only one hand. Read more!

Houston, We Have a Buffin

I'm home! (a whole day early. Yay!)There's a lot to write, but I want to wait a bit to do it. In the meantime, statistics!

Chase Jonathan Christopher L.
Born 9.7.07 at 10:14am
8 lbs. 4 oz., 21.5 in.

The first though that I had when I heard him crying: "he's saying 'wah'... I never thought babies really said 'wah'..."

Yeah... too much medication will do that to you :)

--Dragon
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Zero Hour

So this is it. The zero hour. I have to be there tomorrow at 5:45am... in other words, too frickin' early. I'll be in the hospital for 4 days. After tomorrow I'll no longer be just me. I'll suddenly be me + 1... what a strange thought. How do people deal with the sudden transition between only having themselves to take care of, themselves to think of, to having a whole other person who depends entirely on you for everything? I wonder what the person I will become would have to say to the person I am now. I hope that I like the new me.

--Dragon Read more!

If It's Not One Thing...

Let me first say that I feel so much better. Thank you so much to everyone who commented regarding my fear of labor. Of the few people I've told so far about it, some have been very supportive while others have made it seem as if I was being selfish and unreasonable, and I was just very afraid that more people would feel that way. I have a tendency to be a shameless people pleaser, sometimes to the extreme. You have helped me see that it's ok, whether they think so or not, because what matters is what I am comfortable with. Again, thank you. :)

That said, right now Erik is driving me nuts. Remember how about 3 months ago, in June, I kicked him out mainly because he refused to step up to the plate and get a decent job? Well guess what: still no good job.

I have done everything in my power to help him find a job. I have done far more than I should have to, more than anyone else in their right mind would do, I'm sure. I created a resume', found ads for jobs that sounded suitable, I signed him up for a class to learn how to write his own resume' and another class to help him work on his interview skills. I even told him what to wear to an interview. It turns out I'm not the only one-- his aunt and sister bought him a bunch of new clothes that were more professional than his old clothes, everyone in his family, even his sister's boyfriend keep an eye out for jobs he might like and let him know about them.

Regardless of all the help he's getting, he still won't do anything. I've told him in every way I know of that he needs to get a new job, that not only are his expenses going to go up once the baby is born, but he can't even keep up with his current bills. He goes from agreeing with me to giving me all kinds of rediculous reasons as to why he can't search for jobs now. For example, his band is playing in an upcoming festival about 2 weeks from now. Now, I'm pretty good at getting a job easily, but even for me 2 weeks is pretty fast. Not to mention if you let them know that you have prior engagements, most employers understand.

I'm not the only one who is getting fed up with him. Everyone in his family has been after him and feel as if he should be taking responsibility. We are all so frustrated with him. Babies cost money. Now, I have plenty of help if I need it. I have my mom, Sara, my dad, everyone in Erik's family including his mom and stepdad, both his aunts, his uncle, his grandma, and his sister and her boyfriend. So if I ever really need something, there is no shortage of people who will gladly help me out. However, it's still Erik's responsibility.

I'm hoping that he will surprise us all when faced with reality in all its screaming, pooping, chubby-cheeked glory, and do his share. But to be quite honest, I really don't believe he will. And it frustrates and angers me to no end. I don't want to be a bitch. I don't want to have to tell him that either he gets a job and starts helping out financially or I'll have to go to Child Support Services and let them go after him. Because they will attach his wages and he'll have no choice but to get a better job, as he'll have barely anything left. They don't care whether he can pay his bills or not. I'm not that cruel. But if he doesn't hurry up and be a man, then I'll have no choice.

I'm so sick of being put in positions like this. I'd much, much rather be nice. If people would only listen to me, everything would work out so much better. It's not like I say these things because I like the sound of my own voice (and really, I don't. It's too high pitched.). I just don't feel like I have any other choice.

--Dragon Read more!

Roses

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Weak and Powerless

I haven't written much lately because I've been afraid to write about the one thing predominantly on my mind.

I am a control freak. I admit this. Perhaps because there has been so much in my life outside of my realm of control, I have become someone who craves order and organization. I need things to be logical and timely. I need to be able plan and anticipate. I hate surprises (except complete surprises, those are nice. But when I know it's coming, it drives me nuts) and I loathe being caught off guard. Because of this, I'm terrified of labor. I can't think of an adjective that seems to really convey just how scared I am.

There is very little I can plan or even really expect regarding labor. No two people experience the same thing. I could be in labor for 6 hours. I could be there for 36. And there's no way to tell. I could tear or have an episiotomy. Then again, I might not. There is so many variables, and no real way to predict them. This frightens me to death.



Throughout my pregnancy, my midwives and anyone else I talked to about it kept assuring me that I would be ready for it when the time came, that I was not physically ready for it, and so I wasn't emotionally or mentally ready for it. I wanted to believe them. I tried to ignore the fear for a while, to no avail. Then I thought perhaps if I knew more about it, I would feel more prepared. Not so-- it only made it worse, because everything I read made it more and more clear that there was no way for me to know what would happen.

As such, I have not been a nice person lately. I've been anxious and stressed out and worried beyond belief. This has led me to be a total bitch to pretty much everyone around me. I was so afraid that I couldn't seem to think of anything else, and the fact that everyone seemed oblivious to the kind of torment I was feeling. I kept fighting with my brother (but really, he is a great big effing asshole anyway), fighting with Erik, even fighting with my mom. My mom got so angry at me that she said some incredibly horrible things that she had no right to say, but it convinced me to stop dwelling on it and do something about it.

So finally I discussed it with one of the midwives. I made a list of everything I was afraid of, and believe me, it was not a short list. But the main thing came down to the fact that I feared the loss of control. We talked about the kind of options I had, and I told her I wanted a c-section.

I told her that I had been researching it for weeks, and I felt confident that I understood the risks. I also know what to expect. I know what happens when, I know about how long it will last, and I know what to expect while recovering. I understand that it will take longer to recover from, but in the long run I feel like it is worth it.

I was afraid she would tell me that I couldn't do it, that since there was no medical reason for it. She talked to me about the risks and the fact that she wasn't even sure if one of the OB/GYN's they work under would even consider it, but she said she would talk to the doctor and see if he would even consider it. We talked to the doctor and he agreed to do it.

I was so incredibly relieved. I know it's major abdominal surgery, and considering that I have never been in the hospital and the only surgery I've ever had was to remove my wisdom teeth, it's a rather scary thought. But I am so much less worried and afraid about it than I was about the thought of going through labor. Now, the only thing I have to worry about is not going into labor before I'm scheduled for the c-section on the 7th. That likely won't happen, but it's still a possibility.

I know some people may think that I am being selfish for wanting to do this, and that i just need to suck it up and deal with it, but it's my choice. I don't care if you think I'm a terrible person because I feel the need to control everything and the desire to avoid injury to my private parts. It's my decision and I have to live with it. If I'm comfortable with it, then that's all that matters.

--Dragon Read more!

When Bad Things Happen To Good Books

I love books and have a tendency to get rather attached to the characters. I also get somewhat annoyed when a writer does a disservice to said characters, as was the case in this story, Beach Road by James Patterson/ Peter de Jonge.

I rather like James Patterson's books. He's good at holding your interest with the right amount of suspense and putting you inside the heads of the characters. Which is possibly the reason I am so disappointed with this book. It was great up until the ending. Had I known what was coming I would have stopped reading once it got to what I thought would be the end. At the end there is an awful plot twist that is completely unbelievable. There was absolutely no indication up to that point that what happened is even a remote possibility.



The book is written in first-person style, which is my main issue with the way it ends, because it ends up seeming completely false. When you reach the end, it's as if the main character was lying to you, as if he knew you were in his head. That doesn't make any sense. Also, there are many things in the book that completely seem at odds with the twist at the end.

To me it seems as if the book up until the last hundred or so pages was written by one author and then the rest by the other, and the second writer only gave the first part of the book a cursory glance before writing the ending. They take a perfectly likeable, believable character and turn him into a cruel, calculating monster with absolutely no warning. The only possible way that it would work is as if he had multiple personality disorder, which he certainly doesn't seem to. I mean, he earnestly tries to find the guy who, in the end, you find out is none other than himself. How does that make any sense?

Overall, the book was great. Once you reach the end of the trial, though, it goes completely south. If I had any idea what was coming, I would have put the book down at that point.

--Dragon

(I get rather attached to characters in books, as I said, and it's as if the writer created this guy and made you like him, then just drags his name through the mud)
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Interrogation Time!

Thordora got meme'd and I thought I'd join in the fun, so I asked her to tag me :)

Interview rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview Me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

1. How were you at first with the thought of raising a child predominately on your own? Where do you find the strength for what lies ahead? It's hard with two parents-one, I can't imagine.
I'm terrified. I have been since day one. I don't feel like I have the strength to do it, but I know I'm the only one with the sense to try. It's not the kid's fault if I'm not up to par on the grand scale of parenting, so I just have to make sure I am. I hate failing at anything, and if I fail at this I pretty much fail at the one basic task that all humans are capable of doing. My goal is just to do the best I can and hope I am not one of those parents who other people look at and think "God, that person ought to be sterilized and their child shot."




2. Favorite writer of all time-any format.
I have two. John Steinbeck, because he rips the scab off and lets you see the mess underneath, lets you see that things are messy and dirty and horrible but there's always something good shining through the grime. And Kurt Vonnegut because reading his books is like having your brain sucked out of your head through a straw, fried with some chile peppers, and put back in upside down. He completely skews my vision of reality and shows me how incredibly narrow my view is.

3. My hair color fluctuates monthly at times, weekly at others. Is yours the color you were born with? (I don't even remember what color mine is)
Lol! No. I tend to dye my hair as often as my wallet allows. Currently it's auburn. It was orginally maroon, but thanks to the summer sun, a lot of the purple faded out. The best color my hair has ever been was black with red tips.

4. Best. Concert. Ever. Name it.
That's tough. I'd say Coal Chamber, 2004. I believe they broke up the next day, which sucked, but that concert was incredible.

5. What are you most looking forward to with your soon to be out bambino?
Sleeping on my tummy again! Or, as far as the baby goes, sleeping on my tummy again. :) But really, I have two things I'm really looking forward to. One is kind of silly and really has to do more with my pride than anything else, but I hope we were wrong and it really is a girl instead of a boy so I can rub it in everyone's face that they got me all that lurid boy clothing even though I was adamant that I didn't want it (and she'll wear them all, too)(Yes, I know, how immature). The other thing is I really enjoy singing, and I can't wait until I can sing to a real live baby, not a possible alien spawn harboring itself in my body.


--Dragon
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I Am So Totally Awesome

Well, sometimes I like to think I am. Lookie what I made (yes, all by myself):

Not only is it lovely to behold, but it is also functional. Click on it! How supremely awesome is that?

--Dragon Read more!

Fuzzy Things To Cuddle

Gordo

My road trip buddy and foot warmer extraordinaire.

Suki
Who better to contemplate the sheer stupidity of humanity with?

Kenny
The only creature who can pee on me and get away with it (hehe good thing he doesn't have an ego!)

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