20 September 2007

Losing My Mind

I'm sure it's a fairly common occurence. You walk into a room, and as you do so, you completely forget what it was you wanted to get. Or do? You can't remember. It's really frustrating, because you know as soon as you go back to what you were doing before, you'll remember, and so you'll have to make the trip all over again.

Now, imagine that happening all the time. With everything. You get on the computer, knowing there was something specific you wanted to do. And it's completely gone. Sponged out.
And there's no guarantee that it'll ever come back.

That's me, now. Every day. With so much that I do. I'm living in this haze.

And it's only after I write all this that I finally remember that I wrote the things I needed to get done on my hand, so I'd remember.

Anyway. I just logged onto the public computer so I could do something I've been needing to do for a little while, and as the computer was loading, I thought: Now, what did I need to do? I thought I needed to do something, but what was it?
So, my first reaction was to come here and write about it.
I'm thinking about starting a new blog specifically about thyroid problems. I can share all the interesting things I learn, and all my scary no-brain moments. It might be interesting.

So, I need to get going.

15 September 2007

Alanis Morissette

because I can't not
because I can't not
because I can't afford to be misread one more time

and who do you think you are why do you question me?
Can't Not, by Alanis Morissette

Sorry, but my life right now is revolving around certain things: my thyroid and how it affects me and how so many people have completely misread me, the note I got from my "friend" and wondering how the rest of that group of friends feels about me, and the way the past keeps repeating itself, and how I always want to run away whenever I fuck up that badly.

It's just that I'd complain about some of the ways my body's not working, and people would always just be like, oh, it's just stress. You're not depressed, you're stressed. Your body's not falling apart, you're just stressed. You're not going crazy, you're just stressed. (Oh, wait.)
I remember vividly talking to the Storyteller of the Sunday games, telling him about problems I've already complained about (the constant fatigue, the inability to sleep, etc.), and then I told him the "new development", that thyroid problems run in my family, and I think that might be it. Now, I didn't mention that I had just learned this that weekend, because I figured he'd understand that since I hadn't mentioned it before, he would realize I hadn't known about it before.
No. He assumed I had known about it all along, and basically told me, you're just imagining things. You're just looking for a reason, an excuse, when really, you're just stressed.
And I mean, I guess it makes sense. It makes sense that people would already know their own family's medical history, and all that.
The problem, of course, being that I'm not most people. My dad was adopted, and has no medical history from his biological parents. And my dad's the one who brought us the thyroid problem.

I'm supposed to be cleaning (again, my "rent"), but I was listening to Alanis while cleaning, heard the song, and had to post a note.
Laters, before dad finds me on the computer and yells at me.

12 September 2007

What a Day (or Two)

I don't even know where to begin. I've been wanting to write up a post the past couple days, but the computer/internet has been being stupid. My computer says that the network has not assigned my computer an address, and so connection to the internet is sporadic, and my brother insists that it's an "open network", which apparently means that it doesn't matter, but unfortunately, connection to the internet continues to be sporadic.
I'm using my family's computer; my brother and sister are at a concert, so the computer's free.

A few days ago, I was reading a book my sister lent me (A Great and Terrible Beauty, I can't remember the author), and one of the characters engages in self-mutilation. She explained to the main character that she did it because she couldn't feel anything, and she hurt herself basically to see if she *could* feel. Now, I've heard this before (I had a friend a few years back who also (used to) use self-mutilation), but for some reason, it struck me with particular force. Perhaps because recently, it's occurred to me that I also have trouble feeling. I haven't begun to self-mutilate, but that may be that I am in enough pain already (in brief, my spine is crooked, which causes back and neck pain, as well as headaches, my joints are in constant pain, possibly because my thyroid probably doesn't work properly (I haven't seen a doctor yet), and I haven't been able to get new corrective lenses (glasses/contacts), so I'm getting (even more) headaches).
I dunno. I've been reading about the thyroid gland lately (in brief, I've been feeling terrible for a couple years, then found out thyroid troubles run in my family, so started looking into it), and it seems the thyroid is involved with emotions. (And a million other things.)
The song Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls came to mind:
You can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive

And I don't want the world to see me
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand
And when everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

The last line. Thyroid does all sorts of things to a person. Makes you irritable, pulls your emotions/mood in all sorts of different directions, makes you depressed, anxious, stressed-out. I feel like everyone who knows me really doesn't. I haven't been fully alive for years. I don't even understand myself. I do things I don't even understand. I don't know why I do them. I get that I'm terrified of intimacy, so I push people away. But I do all sorts of things, and I don't understand my own reasons and motivations.
My life has no meaning, sometimes.

Anyway. I got an email--well, I suppose it was sent a few days ago, but I wasn't able to check my email for a few days. It was from someone I was friendly with. It's happened before, people I thought were friends who actually didn't like me much. She sent me an email basically tearing me apart, telling me everything she doesn't like about me.
Honestly, it stressed me out. I was shaking, I felt anxious, I couldn't cope. I sent a short reply, but not very in-depth. And I tried to be polite.

But anyway, it's late. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep.

08 September 2007


Part of my "rent" for living here is to help clean the house on my days off, which right now is Saturday (thank the gods my parents don't think Sunday's a proper day for cleaning).
So, I'm supposed to be downstairs cleaning the bathrooms and vaccuuming and Persephone-knows-what-else.
I don't think I'd mind as much if my room were finished. But it's not. There's still boxes all over my room (as opposed to in a neat pile in the middle of my room, because I set up my altar yesterday). And I really would like to get my room looking decent this weekend, because Monday, I'm starting all over with the most exhausting week ever. I'm just really tired.
Anyway, I should get to work. Woo-hoo.

05 September 2007

Tornado Weather

The weather here has been ridiculous. Yesterday there was serious tornado-weather. It didn't, of course, tornado, being in the middle of the mountains, but it was close. and all over the valley (both of them, now), the sky's half bright and clear and sunny, and half dark clouds and rain. It's ridiculous.
Anyway. I'm in my room, on my very own computer, using the internet. Can you tell the months and months of not having internet really sucked for me?
So, I'm really tired. I guess I didn't have much to say, just wanted to log on and say hey.

Have a muffin-licious day, my lovely muffins!

03 September 2007


Hey, it totally worked. I'm still on my dad's laptop, but I'm in my room. Right this second.
Tomorrow I'll set up my desktop, and I'll be in business.

Fucking A.

02 September 2007

Moved In

So, I've moved. I'm in Highland, UT, which is 40 minutes by car from my work and most of my friends (maybe 30 minutes from some of my other friends) . . . and I don't have a car. And the bus doesn't come this far south.
It's alright. I'm living in the "playhouse" -- the original owner built a two-story two-room building, detached from the house. The bottom part is storage. The top part is the "playhouse", where the original owner kept and played his instruments . . . I don't know what they were, but apparently, he was a musician.
It's filled with boxes and shit for now, but I'll unpack soon enough.
And as soon as I'm finished eating, I'll borrow my dad's laptop (which I am using right now) to see if I get a signal out there. It'd be awesome if I did . . .

Oh, I also got the idea to create a webcomic.
Plus: I love writing/stories. I love creating characters. I like and am decent at drawing/visual art. I've been thinking about comics/graphic novels/fan fiction/etc. for a while now.
Minus: I don't know that I could update every other day or every week or anything like that. I've not only thought about it for a while, I tried it. I started a website for fan fiction for my favorite TV show ever (when I was younger). (Okay, it was Sliders . . . ) I got three episodes written out. And then I dropped it. I still have all the notes from the fan fiction. I still have the stories. I unpublished the site because I wasn't updating. (But I still have all the information for it.)
So, I dunno. I'll keep thinking about it/working on characters and world and story, and maybe even working on character sketches . . .

So, anyway, soup's done, so I'm gonna go to my room and see if I have internet. I'll let you know if it works . . .
love, hugs and bloody muffins,
the wretched whore