Some entries are Friends Only, some are public.
I read an article about this in the Sunday paper, last week or so. I did snip it but don't necessarily have the faith I'll bring it to the library and type it in, or even scan it. I just don't get organized too well. Or I don't think I do.
This is similar. Very interesting. I am convinced my grandmother was schizophrenic, and she had frequent bladder infections.
( blogspot article behind cutCollapse )
What are the odds that 2 people at an Al-Anon meeting would have the same disorder that only affects 2.5% of the population? Weird. Someone described this to me at a meeting last week, when I said I thought I recognized her but I'm not sure. I pointed to my temple and said, "sometimes the Facial Recognition Software just doesn't work". She immediately described her disorder to me, here it is from Wikipedia:
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Prosopagnosia (Greek: "prosopon" = "face", "agnosia" = "not knowing"), also called face blindness, is a disorder of face perception where the ability to recognize faces is impaired, while other aspects of visual processing (e.g., object discrimination) and intellectual functioning (e.g., decision making) remain intact. The term originally referred to a condition following acute brain damage (acquired prosopagnosia), but a congenital or developmental form of the disorder also exists, which may affect up to 2.5% of the population. The specific brain area usually associated with prosopagnosia is the fusiform gyrus, which activates specifically in response to faces. Thanks to this specialization, most people recognize faces much more effectively than they do similarly complex inanimate objects. For those with prosopagnosia, the ability to recognize faces depends on the less-sensitive object recognition system.
Though there have been several attempts at remediation, no therapies have demonstrated lasting real-world improvements across a group of prosopagnosics. Prosopagnosics often learn to use 'piecemeal' or 'feature by feature' recognition strategies. This may involve secondary clues such as clothing, gait, hair color, body shape, and voice. Because the face seems to function as an important identifying feature in memory, it can also be difficult for people with this condition to keep track of information about people, and socialize normally with others. Prosopagnosia has also been associated with other disorders that are associated with nearby brain areas: left hemianopsia (loss of vision from left side of space, associated with damage to the right occipital lobe), achromatopsia (a deficit in color perception often associated with unilateral or bilateral lesions in the temporo-occipital junction) and topographical disorientation (a loss of environmental familiarity and difficulties in using landmarks, associated with lesions in the posterior part of the parahippocampal gyrus and anterior part of the lingual gyrus of the right hemisphere).
There are two types of prosopagnosia: acquired and congenital (developmental). Acquired prosopagnosia results from occipito-temporal lobe damage (See Etiologies and Affected Brain Areas) and is most often found in adults. This is further subdivided into apperceptive and associative prosopagnosia (See Types). In congenital prosopagnosia, the individual never adequately develops the ability to recognize faces.
Well, the congenital form of the disorder may be 2.5& of the population. But I may have had this since at least high school. Also, there is something about an aunt who abused me till age 8 that involves facial/hairstyle recognition.
My sister pointed out that someone in the local paper spelled 'bona fide' as 'bonified', not kidding, and on the same page, 'curlicue' was' curliqueue'.
I did the food pantry thing a few weeks ago, first time, kind of silly that I never did it before...but totally me. It was about a week's worth of groceries, and you can only do it once a month. But I'm stealing like an idiot from my mom. She lets food rot, cooks it and puts it in the fridge, cooks more, puts it in the fridge, is not giving it away, just keeps it up. For all that, some of it is still stealing and when she was getting chocolate ice cream by the bucket, I couldn't stop myself.
I have been losing weight due to not having a lot to eat. But it's sort of controlled by having access to her food.
Everything is just weird.
They must have been around for a while, I did not recognize the symptoms or see them till a couple months or so ago, did not have bad bites, etc. till a couple months ago.
It was hell cleaning up before the exterminator came, on Tues. the 8th. I cannot go through the whole description of the process, just too long. It ended up with a lot of family blood being spilled, figuratively speaking. My middle bro kept blaming it on me, I told him not to come in my room, he jammed himself in anyway and was taking photos with his phone, saying I would be evicted, bleah bleah bleah, the photos would be used as proof that the bedbugs were all my fault.
I was saying a bunch of crud back, including that our mother is a baby-raper, which I did not mean to say. Not that it is not true, but I didn't mean to necessarily say it at all, much less to say it now and in that way.
Maybe it was the right time and more or less the right thing, because my youngest brother, who is always more helpful and positive than middle bro, later said he felt more understanding that I had had a hard life. He could see it now. I had also blurted out that Mom had been propositioning me decades ago when I hit her, slapped her. Once after a long time she did it again and I threatened her with a yardstick, and she backed off.
I am still unsure of the chain of events of what happened when, but middle bro at one time lured me to sleazy hotel room with his wife by saying it was just weekend getaway, then did something so horrible to me that I did not remember, did not remember for 20 years, dismissed the blood as symptom of food poisoning from restaurant.
Oddly I do not believe he remembers the event, it is just normal for our family to react to abuse with more and more angry and abusive behavior. But he still did it and it took the rug out from under me.
Someone in our system knew that on Sat. Morning there would be some kind of trouble, and they just said, "I don't want to be there, I don't want to be there". I don't blame them, they must have seen it coming. Not sure the rest of us did.
Our core, Liz, died recently, but it was part of a spiritual process, others of us have died and been revived in the body, as opposed to those of us who die and after a while are available again, but in the spirit world as opposed to coming to the front, I guess. She is back or is coming back, I do not know which.
So weird, the plural life.
9-13-13, Have a lucky day.
fantastic layout that is slinkslowdown's layout, from fruitstyle, amazing. I think I am in love. I guess from looking at the page I could also add my background tile, the everlovable plaid.
Weird, I had this thought today that up till now I had just chosen losers as boyfriends--well the two guys I ever went with regularly were heavy drug and alcohol abusers and not responsible for themselves much, always depended on other people to take care of them. Of course it turns out one was schizophrenic--I sure haven't taken care of myself well. The other was so badly off, it was easier to feel sorry for him because he cared about people more than the first.
I did not think I was the type of person who ever called people losers, though. But these guys did not seem to be trying to do their honest best. They were not just losers, they were liars. The second one all but committed suicide. He let his problems eat him up. I am sure I didn't help much but I did the best I could. He was just someone who was toxic to me because he was not trying to get better in a wholesome way. He gave into people who advised him badly.
The first just seems to look for people to blame for his problems. I guess that does add up to loser. It still sounds pretty mean though, and probably best not slung out by me unless I have a good excuse.
Um, oh and positive self-esteem note: they lost me. (I am sure I attract people who are like me and who have a lot of negativity, and I was attracted to them. Please, positivity, come my way and stay!)
Life is just weird. I had been thinking about trying to look for a DID/Multiple group in the area. I suppose I need to look for something that would help in the schizo area too. I up and down but doing okay with my Al-anon. It is a good thing I have a very helpful sponsor, who doesn't kick me too much, but if I am withdrawing a lot then she does say, "now look here...". So to speak.
It's weird because We/I learned a kind of shocking thing about the core and it's really working on us. We do not like to see feet of clay on a hero. But I think she was limited from the beginning, being thrown to a den of wolves.
Birthday this year--we got pizza, finally which is what the core has wanted for a long time. Wanted choc. cake too, but you can't get everything.
Cleaning up clutter due to a bedbug infestation, o bleepety-bleep those effing things are nasty. They actually seem to get in nose and ears. Fortunately we have small bottle of Patchouli essential oil--smear it around the openings to nostrils and ears, and they stay out. Criminy jeepers.
The exterminator is coming in a week, need to be ready by then.
Books/dvd due Monday, hope we remember.
She sounds really callous, and like she has a real attitude about her whiteness-this is another person who now everyone knows about the bad behavior, but she ill not really be made to suffer for it in this life.:
http://www.blacklegalissues.com/Article_Details.aspx?artclid=7dfdbe0461" target="_blank">The Paula Deen Incident; you should know all that's being alleged before defending her
DARYL K. WASHINGTON JUN-29-2013 1079943 0
36.2K 1672 Google +563 580 408 43.9K 1721
I've finally had the opportunity to review the complaint filed against Paula Deen. For one, many people have been making this incident about the "N" word only, but it's much more than that. I personally find it to be offensive whenever someone from another race is accused of using the "N" word they are somehow given a pass because of the use of the "N" word by some in the black communities. Let me be the first to say that I find the use of the word by anyone to be wrong. However, when it's used in a racist or insulting manner, it hurts more.
I think individuals who are trying to defend Paula Deen's use of the "N' word should probably familiarize themselves with all of the facts of the case against her. Just so you know, in case you didn't know, the person who initiated the complaint against Paula Deen and her brother is not "Black." She is a "white female" who was subjected to years of abuse and was finally fed up with her black employees being treated poorly, so stop thinking it was a black person complaining about Paula Deen's use of the N word. Furthermore, Paula Deen indicated that she used the N word over 20 years ago. That is not what's being alleged against her. She went as far as telling a guy he was as black as a blackboard. That lady is something else and I'm glad I never supported any of her ventures. I personally find it insulting that so many black people are coming to the defense of Paula Deen after reading what she and her family subjected their employees to. When I learned about the major companies dropping Paula Deen without being demanded to do so, I knew it was deep. The fact that any civil rights activist is supporting Paula Deen is insulting and is a slap in the face.
Here's a summary of some of the things being alleged against Paula Deen, her brother Bubba Hiers and the Deen business entities:
Paula Deen, while planning her brother's wedding in 2007, was asked what look the wedding should have. She replied, "I want a true southern plantation-style wedding." When asked what type of uniforms the servers should wear, Paula stated, "well what I would really like is a bunch of little n*ggers to wear long-sleeve white shirts, black shorts and black bow ties, you know in the Shirley Temple days, they used to tap dance around;
Black staff had to use the back entrance to enter and leave restaurant;
Black staff could only use one bathroom;
Black staff couldn’t work the front of the restaurants;
Brother Bubba stated his wishes: “ I wish I could put all those n*ggers in the kitchen on a boat to Africa”;
Bubba asked a black driver and security guard "don’t you wish you could rub all the black off you and be like me? You just look dirty; I bet you wish you could." The guy told Bubba he was fine as is;
Bubba on President Obama: they should send him to the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, so he could n*gger-rig it;
He shook an employee (Black again) and said” F your civil rights…you work for me and my sister Paula Deen;
Paula’s son Jaime's best friend managed the Lady & Sons restaurant. He threatened to fire all the 'Monkeys' in the kitchen. When Paula found out…she slapped him on the wrist and suggested that the employee visited Paula's $13,000,000 mansion so he felt special and could be massaged.
I feel Paula Deen, her brother and anyone who treats people poorly should not be given a free pass. I wonder if Paula is truly sorry that she used the "N" word or that she was reported by someone who looks just like her. I appreciate the lady having the courage to report Paula Deen. It's people like her and the videographer who leaked the 47% comments made by Mitt Romney who should be receiving the attention, not Paula Deen.
Daryl K. Washington is an attorney located in Dallas, Texas. His practice includes Sports and Entertainment, Civil Rights, Litigation and Business Transactions. The opinions expressed in the commentary are those of Daryl K. Washington. You can reach Daryl at email@example.com or you can visit his website at www.dwashlawfirm.com.
- See more at: http://www.blacklegalissues.com/Article_Details.aspx?artclid=7dfdbe0461#sthash.QioG02Sc.dpuf
Looking at stacks of old Majesty and Royalty magazines at home, for weeks. So depressed. Every day or every other day, people come up and go through therapy or whatever. Letting go of feelings and not saying what it is that is hurting them. At the same time, the magazines are either getting thrown away or stolen and given to someone, I have no idea. Stuff disappears all the time and I know it's people in my system acting out or whatever. But it's upsetting like the time they dumped my purse with all kinds of money in it somewhere.
Kind of depressing, I just went through some online photos of various English Royal events, and I'm thinking why did I spend all that time and money ever on all those magazines. Though when I am home I guess it is much better to look through them and have something to do other than lie there depressed and worrying about stuff.
I found a gold bracelet that I forgot I had, I can't remember where I got it and that's not me. I vaguely think I do, like someone gave it to me, or I found it in a rare moment of luck. I do find some interesting stuff outside sometimes.
Really depressed and I'm tired of it. But there is more shit in there waiting to be release and not understood till such time as I can handle it. I did call up Ty to handle the thefts, find out why they are happening. Or whatever he can find out. I seem to be incompetent at selling what belongs to me to make a decent score off of it, to get groceries or something nice. I remember once doing really well at a garage sale,then sinking the money into something that turned out to be a loser. I feel like I should have known better. But I didn't.
Geez everyone in the Royal family looks so much older than they did the last time I saw them, except Kate and William, who I had seen recently on TV and magazines of course. Interesting history sometimes.
I did get my sponsor call in last week, was much easier than I thought, already paid for--long distance call, she has unlimited long distance plan. Otherwise no could afford call to another state.
I realized I actually misquoted the Bible to someone else, it was kind of serious, so I have to go back and correct myself. I feel like an idiot. It was someone in my system, but the rest of us get to enjoy the consequences of the actions of the rest of us. Or NOT enjoy, as it happens this time around. And the sponsor call last week was about inadvertent dishonesty.
Red Lobster Cheddar Bay Biscuits. This IS the recipe
1 pack buttermilk biscuit mix (I used Bisquick, about 1 1/2cups)
1 1/2cups shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 cup milk
2 tbsp butter
1 tbsp oregano (you can omit or use less)
3/4 tsp garlic salt
1. Preheat oven to 400F. Spray cooking sheet with non-stick spray.
2. Put biscuit mix, cheese and milk in a bowl and mix well to form a sticky dough.
3. Using spoon, drop lumps of dough onto cookie sheets 1.5in apart. Bake for 10min.
4. In a bowl, melt butter and mix with oregano and garlic salt.
5. When the timer goes off, take them out and brush with butter mixture and bake 5min at 400F and another 5-6min at 350F.
6. Transfer into a plate and serves immediately.
Sounds good to me.
Missed my sponsor call this morning, can't help but feel that someone on the inside did that deliberately. It worked out okay last time.
I had a dream this a.m. about the British Royal Family, particularly the Prin. of Wales, late. She was wearing a dress, so it is about betrayal and housing. I think.
I keep seeing a blonde woman in a white shirt, almost looks like a man's shirt, but is a womans. Or the other way around. Er, confusing. I feel like it might be something about humor. The woman is riding a broomstick, and very blonde, pony tail. Eh, I have no idea.
My comment got screened at multiplicity. Did I get reported for something? Sheesh.
The missed call this afternoon scares me, and so does the fact I keep getting higher library fines. I feel like I'm just watching it happen. I guess I do feel like, ...what can I do, or just, this was meant to be. But something is definitely wrong. i think.
Oh yeah, whoever dreamed about Prin. Diana, she was in a frumpy dress. That person took us downtown today, which maybe we needed to do.
The emotional and mental energies which were developed in early childhood, affect behavior and mental conditions in all human beings and become strong motivational forces which act on the subconscious plane. If the conditioning was based in fear, trauma, betrayal, or shame, then the person will react with that same programming until it is reprocessed at the subconscious level. The conscious mind cannot heal these energies, nor can it heal deep-seated resentment and guilt –both of which have a powerful ability to make a person physically sick[...]
That's from a post at Evil Sits At The Dinner Table. More:
“Reality Therapy” teaches that no matter what someone has been through in their childhood, they can suddenly “choose” different behavior and focus solely on the here and now. This leaves the grieving child inside the adult survivor feeling unheard. Unless a person knows why they are suffering and are given the tools to transmute past trauma, no amount of positive thinking will help them.
Human beings are not lab rats. Behavioral modification therapy is useless without first addressing the subconscious. When an authority figure rips a child apart physically, emotionally, and spiritually, the effects will remain with the victim forever unless the pain is reprocessed. Behavioral modification and reality therapy can ultimately cause a person to become a robot of concepts taught in text books, and those concepts will never truly heal a person.
Ignoring the subconscious mind is like being trapped inside your home, and you put a sign asking for help on the roof of your house and someone comes along and throws a blanket over it. In frustration, you place an even bigger sign on the roof, but the person comes and knocks it down. Finally, in desperation, you set fire to the entire house because you know that someone will finally come to help you. The subconscious mind is the one putting out the signs and the conscious mind keeps trying to cover them up. When the subconscious is ignored, it becomes angry and screams for attention by setting the fire.
"Family members have been known to ask a survivor to stop having therapy, or to use anti-depressants, instead of working through their trauma. This request is made because it is more comfortable and convenient for the family, not because it is best for the person who is trying to heal."
I feel like someone from my 12-step group did that to me. I got hit by a car while living at her house. After she & her hubby let me have a room in their house for a few weeks or a month, I got a job. Apparently something happened on the way home from work, but I didn't remember it, it was pretty nasty. NO memory, just was scatty as hell, kept going back and trying to figure out what happened, but my "brain" kept saying nothing to see here, no problem
I got hit by a car after working about 5 or 6 months--was just about to get health care benefits--and I could not go back to work even after I was better, couldn't sue the guy that hit me, couldn't do anything but watch tv. The woman, whose mother owned the house, did recognize it as depression, but she said, you go to the emergency room and get drugs. I couldn't. I called my mom's old shrink, who recommended a free clinic, govt. sponsored. But I couldn't get in for months, lady let me stay anyway, then I got a break and a friend was leaving her house empty while she sold it so she asked me to move in. She did want some rent but I couldn't pay. After a while her husband told her the house would be ransacked if it were left empty.
Which is true, terrible neighborhood. Every other person was a drug dealer--or hooker I think. Someone camped out under the porch. I was not sympathetic, did not realize it was the son of an acquaintance and mostly harmless. Though he was messed up and ended up in a mental institution.
Anyway, I did get free housing from two women, the first younger than I. I kind of feel like she was snapping her fingers under my nose, she was impatient with everything I did and every mistake, and you cannot live with someone like that. She was always screaming at her husband--who was not the world's greatest husband by any means, and he kept making passes at me after I kept saying no. Honestly what I resent is getting a job before I knew what the hell was going on in my head, even though it seemed like the sensible thing to do. I felt like I could never pay this woman enough rent, and after I lost my job and had to live off my bank account, I had to empty it and almost fainted on my way to the therapy--which didn't do much for me, wouldn't even look at repressed memories.
They sure did give me drugs though, because they got them for free. If it would have cost them anything, I would not even have heard about them. Unless it's really some kind of emergency, I do not want any kind of pharmaceuticals. Aspirin or ibuprofen for pain or maybe something stronger for surgery. Or if you are dying of cancer and want painkillers.
I read Gregory Maquire's Lost, till 4 or 5 in the a.m. at least, and cried and cried at the end, it triggered off something. Something was kind of triggering me all day. It hurts to relive whatever it is, and especially to be in confusion about it, but it means feeling what I/we need to feel. Which is great. It just scares me that I'm so confuse over what happened. This time it partly ended in some joy, and I think in general I know what it it was about, but I would say it was also about a much-trodden road, one travelled for many different reasons.
In short, when I go down it I can never just focus on one event, one memory. They all come at me at the same time.
I talked to my friend Kay last week, I was talking about needing a "new" non-portable phone--actually one just for me. Surely there are a million of these around, and I just need to hit the right Goodwill, St. Vincent De Paul, whatever. I just bought a battery for the house one, sis thought that was the problem. Well, maybe that was one problem, but it's just planned obsolescence, it looks like now. I need a phone and no way can I afford a cell, so it's scrape bottom for me--invest what little I have in one that will not break down in a year or two.
I got some scrapbook papers to use as journal covers, and some watercolor pencils, on Saturday. Then went to Panera and got a bagel and refillable coffee. It was fun and I got some work done on the journal, things caught up with. But I wasn't keeping track and let things get by me. I think it is the unremembered trauma, that I am working as hard as I can to get at that is distracting me.
As always, keeping me from doing what I should/would do. Okay, not that bad but keeping me from some very ordinary things going right, things a lot of people take for granted.
I read a book recommended by underlankersn a post recently, the local library happened to have it--The Holocaust by Bullets, by Patrick Desbois, a French Catholic priest whose grandfather was imprisoned by Germans in WW II. I had to fight off some feelings of bitterness, Catholic-raised here, but this guy is using what he has to help some other people.
Someone at a Christmas party some guy talked about the Mental Illness Happy Hour,
which I have yet to look up--something about confession being good for the soul.
Sort of odd dream this a.m. after I went back to sleep. I was walking down the sidewalk in front of my house, and saw some woman I recognized, see all the time and just don't know who she is, really, never have spoken to her. Then I woke up. She still seems as familiar as heck, a woman walking around in a house coat and sneakers with ankle socks, an institutional bob to her silver hair. She must be in 60s or 70s at least.
When I woke up I thought oops. I thought that was real, the sidewalk and street looked real. I had no idea I was dreaming and have never met or seen that woman in my waking life.
Also read Stephen King's Needful Things and The Wind Through the Keyhole. Loved them.
Bridget gave me a 30 day bus pass. I think it expires 30 days from the first use. Whoohoo.
I'm wearing a sweater from Kay, pair of pants from same or from Linda, boots from Francois, socks from--Cheryl? A tee from goodwill and a scarf from myself.
Rapid fire weapons are not for killing deer, they're for killing people. And if they were banned, yes people would get them from other countries. But maybe there's an answer to that, too.
Well, it wasn't so bad. Except he's almost surely Alzheimic. He was kind of obnoxious at some points, mentioning Pot and wanting to give us all some, fairly loudly, at the restaurant. Then something really rude, which I guess as Bruvva noted, is not worth repeating. Stepmom had said to others the bit about the memory problems.
It was fun, other than that. All of the kids were there, of my family, one stepbro and wife. Also my neice, dad's grandkid. Other one is still at school. I hadn't seen him or stepmom or
There is a theory brewing in my head about some people who have Alzheimers or like my mom have alcoholic dementia. The three people who I know are or I am sure are afflicted have something in common--that they have memories that are are really really bad--of things they did, and of things that were done to them as children. But the memory problem they are having in old age is preventing them from doing anything about their childhood problems or their adult behavior. Weird. I suppose everyone who has those memory problems has that stuff in their past, but it's interesting that those three do.
I had a sort of dream about Mom and Dad. In it I was Hermione Granger, with Harry and Ron. We were in this lonely deserted part of London and I was leaning back on a park bench with all this angst or whatever showing on my face. I remembered after I started dissecting the dream that that reminded me of HErmione after she erased her parents memories of her to keep them safe from the enemy, to keep her parents safe.
4) Watch your thoughts and examine your beliefs about yourself. Our thoughts are powerful and we have more control over our lives than we are led to believe. I found my initial diagnoses dehumanising and I "forgot" who I was. I believe that SCH is a widely misunderstood mental illness and that a diagnosis itself, as it did with me, can lead to a massive downward-spiral. I used to walk away from my psych appointments with ultimatums running through my head, thinking I would deteriorate and end up in a psych ward for the rest of my life if I didn't take meds, etc. etc. (one of my psychiatrists told me I would never have a normal life w/out medication for the rest of my life- without it I would spend my life in hospital, I was chronic, etc. etc- we were paying him $300 an hour to tell me this :D) I am very proud to have proven him completely wrong!
That's from someone's intro at one of my closed communities, but I just tripped over it in my memories. Why I memmed it I don't know, but I really like it and still haven't read it all.
I was thinking about getting Hitch-22 for myself for a Christmas present, and then thought about my copy of The Bible Code that is sitting on my tv table. I had heard the NPR interview with Michael Drosnin and a while later bought the book. It seemed to work as to what it said it did, though maybe in a sort of "enough monkeys with enough typewriters will sooner or later write some Shakespeare," kind of way. It predicted the assasination of Shimon Peres, and Drosnin got in touch with Peres' staff, who listened to him, but Peres was killed anyway.
This reminds me of Jeanne Dixon predicting JFK's death. He was also warned by friends not to go to Texas, but he did, and the rest is history.
What this has to do with Christopher Hitchens autobiography is just stream of thought I guess. I was writing about it in my home journal, and forgot to put in what triggered it. I wanted to reread some of the things he had reported in Vanity Fair, but also I wanted to have the history that I didn't know about, his time in Iraq and South America. And I figure now it doesn't matter because either I never write about this stuff, or it would never really get discussed somehow.
There are no ads on my entries page--wait, whut?
Not that I mind, it's just weird. I guess it'll snap back soon. Probably the change in the posting box, a temporary glitch?
Eh, disorientation, the entry box is all weird. Like buttons? Eeeeeee!
Not feeling as bad as I was a couple weeks ago, I just felt bizarro depressed, just in sawdust, not dust and ashes, not so much repressed anger--maybe.
I have one more story from Everything's Eventual to read, I put that one off because it seemed creepy, even for Stephen King in a book of short stories with "tales of horror" stamped all over it.
Bleah, bleah, bleah bleah.
Edit, only problem is I can't figure out how to get back to the non-spoiler posting.
Ah, I guess you go to html for a moment and start typing stuff in.
My youngest brother called last night and said my dad's yearly B-Day party is coming up, it will be at the Country Club or the Inn. I figured it was a 5 or a 0 year, we got to talking and sure enough, he's 80. Mom just turned 78.
I oddly said I'd go. For about 5 or so years, I have not talked to my dad. I was beginning to remember some very very awful childhood memories. Many of them featuring him. But they were not all like what I had back in the 80s, when I got the actual sensations of what happened. Some were. Some were too bad to give much of a hint.
We have been working in home journal and internally on our relationship with him, and something large did give way. Kind of scary that someone "died" or Ascended or went back to the spirit world for good. I don't know who, but it was from our earlier childhood or preteen. It was a nice Ascendance, but that usually means the stronger memories will come back, the emotions, the body's feelings, etc. That means it gets graphic, not just someone saying "well, this and this and this happened," but the actual feelings.
That's from Google since replied to my multiplicity post about morals within the system. They mentioned Reagan@ Milligan & I have no idea what that is a reference to, but seemingly it is in reference to extreme behavior in a multiple system?
I will find out, looks like a textbook that looks at abnormal behavior.
The opening of the Dead Sea Scrolls showing at the Art Museum was some time yesterday. I could have tried to get organized and go, but I have no money so I doubt I could get in. Though I guess I could have checked for any free events.
But the powers that be who determine daily activity did not so ordain. There is a pretty narrow path, but most days it just heads to the library, like I have to go there every day until I figure out why. Obviously I do not have internet at home, and this is for me the safe way to interact.
I think there are only 10 patches of the Scrolls. I guess I can really find whatever I want about them online. But it might have been fun to see with friends.
Had a dream about weeds growing up in "my" front yard, though it was sortof Pat D.'s house. They were yellow and pretty agressive and hard to get rid of, the house was newly mine. Or my mom's and the usual crowd lived in it. Looked like Ulla's too. I had decided the answer to the yellow vines was the Giant Sweet Pea vine, which had a violet-red pod, with some darker leaves and tipping.
It seemed it would take over the yellow vine and strangle it, and the sweet pea would be much easier to get rid of if I decided it was taking up space. Plus it looked better.
Pat D. was in the dream; at the end, Patty M. was there like it was her house, and she was asking me about ?__________?, I cannot remember who, a female who I was answering the phone for. I'd say, "she can't come to the phone now, she's at ______________" and whatever the reason I claimed it was, it was a lie, simply for the purpose of not giving out information that wasn't pertinent.
Patty asked me if she was really where she said she was, and I laughed and said that's funny. Because I was also taking calls for Patty and doing the same thing. At work I always used to assume the boss was wherever it was convenient for him to be as long as it sounded plausible. You can't say he's out golfing or decided to go back out for more White Castles or in the bathroom after the White Castles took a wrong turn. It wasn't my business really.
Last night I had to clarify where I was and what I was doing, reading a book, to the inners because someone had started an imaginary conversation with OBOO and he wasn't really there, though what sparked it off was hearing him in the other room, clear his throat or whatever.
For some reason people start lying and imaginary conversations on the inside, I think it's a nervous, scared habit.
Another one of my shiz posts because I have 5 min. or so.
I dreamed about some gal in pink who was meeting some red-haired mustachioed baseball player in a hotel room and for some reason he kept going to the wrong room or condo, repeatedly. I know this person dresses in pink and we had a visual the other day when praying about what to do, what picture we are supposed to get. I feel like the player's name is Dale and so is the lady's, also a redhead. (a Cowgirl?) Because of seeing something on tv like this once.
What we saw was a pink wagon wheel and one extra spoke across it toward the top. Not touching the hub, as it were. So is this a person from the outside or is the system just that weirdly fractured? Or is that the norm?
Last week was fogout city, lots of pain and feeling like nothing will ever work out. When I went to the meeting Tues. night, I hadn't eaten to had to gobble cookies. The next day, I guess no surprise, I felt really really crappy--out of sorts, fatally hopeless. Just rather more of an edge and schizophrenic creeps and fog to it.
I do have to say this, that I kind of got out of it, through something I was doing with some old artwork on the library computer and I thought I was screwing up again, that it was all for nought.
Then later in the day I was thinking about it and I realized I hadn't screwed up, I just expected it so much I didn't realized I'd done the storing of images right and the deletion of them from the library computer. AND the computer didn't act up or do anything weird to screw it up as it will do when I don't know what will work.
Er, but I can't even think right now. This is the worst blankety blank month for food, I am lucky to have nuts and seeds, seriously. I can't afford a 2 buck bag of flour. I do have beans and squash, and lol, hot dogs because mom bought some and left them so long she forgot she owns them--left a note apologizing for taking some. I wouldnt' be so grabby, but I needed them, so I got some this afternoon. She just buys so much stuff and sometimes cooks it, sometimes not, but whichever, at least half of it rots. Cheap hot dogs really aren't my dream food but, better than nothing.
That was all from yesterday or Wed. ah well.
I had an interesting thought in the last few days--there is an almost constant thought in my head...astrology. I really enjoy it, but thinking about it's an obsession. For some of us, we DO NOT WANT it. I have been bothered by thinking of it all of the time. I would like to know what it's like to be able to think about myself in terms of...whatever anyone thinks of that is normal. Just not, "Saturn in the last house in Capricorn", it's always depressing and frustrating.
It came to me that it is the inners doing this, just covering up some things with thoughts about astrology, as it related to me. I really got into for a long time. And then I thought, nah, don't need it. But it wouldn't go away.
Then this. How odd.
A stone, a stick and a leaf. This was something that came out of my daydreaming, the faeries are selling the author their stories, they write the stories and the author publishes the stories under his/her name. She finds stones sticks and leaves, she has to leave a trio for each story, that is what they want to be paid. Each has to be carefuly selected, sort of with guidance of gut feeling. They won't just take anything you grab, it has to be their choice, they have specific use for them.
The stone is strength, the stick is longevity and the leaf is kindness. How that is I don't know, but that is the way it is.
I wish I had a camera, there was a big homemade sign on a bldg. coming into downtown a few minutes ago. People are really happy. "O" "B" "A" "M" "A" is what it says, big white sheets ripped from a roll of paper, markered on in pink and blue letter.
I'm downtown and I guess and hope I forgot my Starbucks card. It's probably home on the floor, and I feel like an idiot for that, but I hope that's all. I'm hungry dammit.
Well, it would just have been expensive nuts and coffee. I am grateful to Bridget for the card though, I wish I were a giver too. But I'm not I just soak light and everything else. I try to give and do nothing but screw up.
I really have been screwing up, I can't even say how, I just am.
Well, that aside I figured out part of the reason why I have such a hard time making and keeping friends. Making them is not so hard, but after a while I change, well, duh, my personality changes.
Okay, well, just weird and not cheery. Crabby in fact.
Empty Bowls was good. I was given half n half & some really good coffee, forgot to bring them today, meeting tonight, darn. Would have been nice. But I'm preoccupied.