March 26, 2014
Ain't That Some Shit, Waxing Religious
anxiety, blogoversary, bullies, death, emergency, god, guilt, Humor, OCD
Strange fate. Why God, or the universe, or a great nothingness conspires or throws events at random to some and misses others. The Wheel of Fortune keeps spinning. Some folks buy a vowel while others go bankrupt.
There was a blurb on the news yesterday: A fire at my old apartment complex. Then it announced the address. My building. I asked my friend to drive me ‘round the hood. I wanted to see if it was their apartment since their apartment was in the same building as the apartment I shared with my mother. Ye Old Shitville Ghetto Apartment Complex looked the same as ever: dilapidated, half-assed put together, just all that charm of a coastal town sunk into hell. Home sweet home. Roachy, bedbuggy, home. Mom and I lived 9 relatively happy years here. Four Years ago yesterday, March 25, 2010 I started my blog there. In 2011 my mother was taken to the hospital from there never to return again.
It wasn’t their apartment that caught fire, that is, my ex-roommates. Not the man who I miss to this day. My mother’s cook book is still on their shelf, and whatever else I gave them or they kept as theirs did not catch alight in some Waiting to Exhale diva style fashion. I’m glad they’re safe, and I hear they’re moving far away in about a week.
No, there was the apartment my mother and I shared gutted by fire. So far they say “cause undetermined,” but I’d bet the house (pun intended) that it was shitty wiring. First that wiring was older than I am, I’m pretty certain, secondly if I remember correctly, sometimes it did act funky.
If it was a malfunction in the wiring or appliances, and had my mother lived, I’m certain we would still live there and it would be us left with nothing. Did God deliberately spare us that fate? Why?
In my more philosophical mode, I think, “Did my mother die at 68 to be spared going downhill physically, possibly ending up an oxygen-bound invalid like her mother or near blind from macular degeneration like her father? Did God cut my mother a break, or was he being cruel? My mother’s illness was two weeks total, only one day of which was in the hospital. Also God knew that as long as my mom lived, my OCD would’ve been at her side trying to keep her alive. I’d never have lived alone were she still alive. I’d be too afraid she’d die. And now our apartment is charred. My mother’s essence burned out of the walls it feels like to me. Would we have died in the fire? Did God kill my mother to protect us from a worse fate? Why didn’t He just stop the fire in the first place and spared whoever lived there.? Ugh, I just don’t get it. Maybe my not being there was just the luck of the draw, and numerous calamities are about to befall me. Stay tuned!
March 24, 2014
book review, Humor, OCD, Spain
Lost in Spain: A Collection of Humorous Essays by Scott Oglesby
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
When Scott Oglesby graced me with a review copy of his Lost in Spain: A Collection of Humorous Essays, I was honored and thrilled being a fan of his writing from back when he kept a hilarious blog.
This book of essays are the memoirs of a man able to observe the comedy in his life and surroundings no matter how high or low the situation. We see snapshots of a socially awkward, yet charming man making his way through through strange family members and even stranger strangers.
When we first meet Scott, we are in Ibiza, Spain with his wife and her wealthy, eccentric brother. One begins to feel as though Scott is the narrator of The Great Gatsby: Espana Ediccion. He is the outsider looking into an opulant world, the ultimate non-stop party…until we see the actual home he and his wife are to spend the next three years. The apartment the uncle has given them is in the rural village of Javaron, a place unlike Ibiza or anywhere else he could imagine.
While in Javaron, the Oglesbies live among a unique cast of villagers, Gypsies, and European ex-pats of varying moral fortitude. The fact that Scott has a severe case of OCD, struggles with alcohol and drug abuse, and doesn’t quite fit in anywhere is explored with great candor and humor.
If you have OCD, and I do, you may find yourself relating to the the book in that you will be saying to yourself, “There’s someone else that does that. Wow!” The fear of mimicking someone’s accent, to going to insane lengths not to offend someone, to being on the extreme side of socially awkward are all things I have dealt with too. Scott also has the abillity to not sweat the big stuff and fall apart at little things, something I find happens to me too.
In short, this is a rauciously funny book, a different travel memoir, and a portrait of someone struggling to survive mental illness and addiction. It has something that will resound with most readers.
View all my reviews
March 23, 2014
My nurse ain’t mad. Life is good!!!!
And I’ll get over the temper tantrum yesterday with my friend.
And maybe they’re just busy at the hospital.
And maybe I can force myself to be amusing on 300 mg.
And maybe one day I’ll let go of the fact that the love of my life was a user.
And maybe I can let go of all the guilt I feel half the time.
And maybe they’ll find that plane.
And maybe more people will visit http://scottoglesby.com He wrote a book, you know.
And maybe Tupac isn’t dead and Biggie is hiding.
And maybe I can be as cool as I was in 2010. 4 years people since I started this crap.
Maybe I can immerse myself in bloggery again and not neglect everyone, because I’m always interested in what y’all write
March 23, 2014
Urg, I have that not so pleasant feeling that the world hates me. I just asked my ex-nurse if she wanted to get something to eat, haven’t heard back. A couple days ago, I asked her if she was mad at me and she texted “cant talk now. At work. Later.” My friend put it in my head that she might be mad at me, since she hadn’t texted me in two weeks when she said she would. Maybe she is mad at me for only texting when I wanted something.
And I keep feeling angry at what my friend did yesterday to me. That was so disrespectful. I may have deserved it, but still… I’m back on 300 mg of Luvox because I’m too nervous on 200 mg and she doesn’t know how to ‘handle me’ when I’m nervous. Which is hilarious because she’s always freaking out about something or another that I have to help her with. God forbid that I might melt down myself once in awhile.
Several days ago I put in an application to the hospital to volunteer. I haven’t heard back. Maybe they don’t want me. No one fucking wants me.
March 22, 2014
Oh yay, I’m in the rages of melancholy once again. I’m worthless ad nauseum et al. Per usual, I screw up, am incapable of doing anything meaningful, am dislikeable. As my cross dressing ex-roommate once put so eloquently, I’m a boil on the ass that just can’t be lanced.
Trying hard to go down to 200 mg of luvox instead of 300. It’s increasing my creativity, but is making me a big fat nervous bitch too. My friend and I got into an argument due to my nerves, which is kinda funny since she’s nervous 50 percent of the time and I always try to be understanding. I threw my Hershey Bars in the car because she was upset I put the trash bags on her wheel chair. I didn’t rectify fast enough and that’s when I threw my candy in and she yelled at me to calm down, Then she made a point to throw all my candy on the ground. This made me enraged. Really mature.
January 15, 2014
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,300 times in 2013. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.
Click here to see the complete report.