yocontemporary

If I had to choose a single thing to consider thoroughly for the rest of my life, it would be music. There is never going to be a way to keep up with the amount of incredible music that hides in the corners of each genre. I've been having revelations about my relationship with music for at least a week, now, and nothing fails to amaze me about it. To this day. I posted the contents of that facebook note as my previous post here, but I have a feeling that my music revelations are only constantly returning to me from nothing more than short partings.

Immediately after I had posted that note on facebook, and tagged as many relevant counterparts as was allowed, I received a friend request from a new acquaintance. I met this guy, 'Hutch, through the third-floor neighbor, and he was just optimistic in the catchiest sense of the word. His personality is nothing short of wonderful, and that was all I knew. I had been thinking, the previous day, that I was so glad that I'd run into him more than once by now.

To my surprise that he also is an avid listener on last.fm, we exchanged our usernames.

That's when the impossible happened again. It's clearly not impossible, but even the very prospect will blow my mind so hard that I feel like I've awaken to heaven itself (and I'm not even christian, mind you).

When a decade or more of my fanaticism for music that I find captivating, talented, and impossible to live without. My last.fm account recognizes nearly 2,500 artists from my library of loved musicians. I am the kind of person who cannot answer a question as to "what music" I listen to, because it leaves me neurotic about how much is left to hear. It makes we wonder, "what music have I not listened to yet?"

I have about a thousand suggestions for someone who expresses appropriate interest, over the course of however many years I know them. I guess that my gang of superfriends and I are, in fact, "super" friends as a result of having music to build our relationships over time. It seems crazy to me that music is responsible for so much of the person I even am.


When I plugged Hutch's username in and visited his profile, last.fm automatically registered and informed me of our "very high" music compatibility. My brain exploded with delighted surprise! Meeting someone whose tastes are so similarly diverse, through a person who listens to rap nearly exclusively, feels exactly like winning the fucking lotto to me. I can't possibly express the shock it causes.

My feelings of amazement are justified: Having 2.5k artists in my library, that is, makes it a rare occasion. Pairing that with the fact that I met him through someone who knows none of them, though? I feel like I've just discovered the moon inside of the earth. I don't even know what to say. I don't even

I just randomly met a person whose path was almost matching mine for about a decade's worth of my personal journeys. Through someone who'd never even been to any of them.

How ironic is it, though, that it occurred only after I wrote my way through a storm of thoughts and emotions about the subject. He couldn't even see that note, he didn't know. I didn't know. It seems that our minds are equally blown about the entire thing, though, which is the least surprising part.

Meeting Hutch was a reinforcement in my entire revelation. There is a special place very deep within my heart, and it is reserved for occasions such as this one. This type of thing gets me every time. The odds aren't very high for it. I feel lucky as fuck that it happens to me at all.


Anyhow, I've been thinking about music constantly for a few days now. Also, spending 24 hours awake per 5 hours of sleep. But I slept for about ten hours (4am-2pm) today, and that made everything a little bit better. And the internet was out for awhile, so I walked down to Mojo Used Books & Music, and I bought two vinyl albums:
Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire - The Swimming Hour
Chet Baker - Blood, Chet, and Tears

And then my brain exploded again, because they've re-released "The Swimming Hour", and it was about time that I owned a copy on vinyl. That is one of the best albums of all time, and I'm going to listen to it all night.

I posted this on facebook as a note. I'm posting it here, so that it isn't completely lost in a year or five...

"When I was [age], I listened to ______________."
--- or, HOW I ACCIDENTALLY THE WHOLE UNIVERSE

When I was a baby, it was just a bunch of Raffi and Rosenshontz. She also played guitar for us and sang A LOT, on her '78 Ovation Sunburst. We had a baby grand piano that hadn't been tuned in half a century (her grandmothers', originally) as well, but used it mostly for making forts beneath :D

When I was 9, I mostly heard the music my mom had raised me with, but didn't yet value certain gems such as: Herp Alpert, Sergio Mendes, The Subdudes, James Taylor, DMB, Us3, Bobby McFerrin, Queen, REM, U2, Carol King..

When I was 11, my younger sisters and I finally parted ways with the alternative babysitter who introduced us to MTV. It put forth the Smashing Pumpkins through their video "Tonight, tonight", as well as Radiohead's "Paranoid Android". The effect of those music videos on my soul could be described as nothing short of enlightening at the time.

When I was 13 or so, one of my Xmas gifts was 'The Best of KC & The Sunshine Band'. I began playing piano when nobody was home (about 2 hours daily after school), which of course has gone nowhere over time.

When I was 14, my mom took a secretarial job for a car repossession company. Unclaimed possessions were distributed to those who were interested. This randomly gave me KORN, Busta Rhymes, Tupac.

At this point in life, I was still shedding tears for hit songs on the radio. I babysat for a couple whose music collection included The Lightning Seeds, and The Talking Heads... Was in a youth group, which introduced me to Jars of Clay. Vacationed at an N.C. resort with its own cafe, whose barista played Louis Prima all night. That cafe changed my life.

I got into the local alternative radio station, which brought me to love 311 and Jane's Addiction. I bought Limp Bizkit, Redman, and Prodigy albums.

When I was 15, I transferred to an arts magnet high school more than an hour from home. My peers quickly infused my tastes with stuff like Fiona Apple, Ani DiFranco, Ben Folds Five, Led Zeppelin, The Doors... who even really knows anymore? Art teacher played Bob Dylan all the time while music students swooned for Chet Baker's stoned vocals...

When I was 15 or 16, I had come to love all of these new 'weird' friends, and that love of music was shared thoroughly. So many true friendships began in the humble seeds that took root in sound. I cannot begin to express how immensely grateful I am, as I should be, forever & ever.

By the time I was 16, I had gotten into all of these things as well as Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull, Psalters, Pedro The Lion, Cursive, Secret Chiefs 3, Calexico, High Llamas, Stereolab, TMBG, and so on.
Mr. Bungle, Charles Mingus, Tool, King Crimson, Heavy Vegetable, Estradasphere, Faraquet, Refused, Tea Party, Nick Drake. Rob Crow led to Optiganally Yours, Thingy, and eventually Pinback. Got into experimental artists (Mike Patton, John Zorn)... and loved the heck out of Aphex Twin & Squarepusher. Thank you, napster! Thank you, friends!

It was like a big bang of just... just so, so much music.

Constantly music.
Bus rides from home to school and back took at least 2 hours each way, and it was all spent on music. It didn't hurt that someone might burst into "dueling banjos" on a freaking violin, or that the person in control of the music chose to blast Faraquet, or that our theatre productions included "HAIR" and "GODSPELL". When I think about it, I think of this:

"MY GOD, IT'S FULL OF STARS."

For me, those high school years were mostly fluff. Music provided a backbone, and that kept me showing up until the end... almost! Not saying that it worked to my benefit in the long run, but I would have had it no other way.

I also spent a lot of time burning cds of rare/obscure music, and passing them out to at complete random. Music was that important to me, and I was that crazy about it. Most people liked at least some, but I always hoped that some might experience the same big bang. It was my version of spreading God's word-- where God is Music, and that's all there is to know.

When I was 17 & 18, I spent time hanging out with Charles (everyone's favorite 12-string-playing homeless dude?), going to drum circles, attending quaint and amazing shows, and whatever and ever.

I also bought a tape in a pawn shop at some point, simply titled "The songs you love to hate", played it in a friends' deck, and accidentally discovered freaking Pavement. Endless luck with random albums also led me to John Vanderslice, then Momus, then King Missile. Random words in the napster search bar resulted in the discovery of Porcupine Tree, Can, and other strangely-named artists that probably sucked 99% of the time. A few, rare gems can make every other rock worth cracking open.

A dollar has never been more valuable than it was on the day that I bought Drink Me from a bin of, otherwise, rejects like The Coral (which, I admit, is better than most of the stuff.) I have no idea how a friend could have managed to find another Drink Me album, "Sleep", in such a similarly random fashion.

Because of how my closest friends managed to branch out into different genres and tastes in music, I've tasted more flavors of music than even freaking exist of beer and ice cream -- combined. I'd be chasing a rainbow if I tried to include every musician whose name has fallen into the cracks of my blanched memory.

I'm 24 now, and I can't think of anything to say about my past five years or so unless I never shut up; the universe and everything is expansive, as we know, and I wouldn't bet on a convenient stopping point. I admit that my blindest spot has become the spotlight itself. I couldn't tell you a name of a recent artist outside of Kanye West anymore. Girl Talk probably comes as close as I normally care to get, regardless of how much I thoroughly enjoy radio and its who-knows-what. It's more exciting that way, anyhow: That spotlight doesn't move very quickly.

I'm just putting this out there, and if anyone else cares to briefly explore the landmarks of their own relationship with music, I'll be interested to read up. I posted this in response to a reddit submission, and then realized that so much recollection shouldn't just go to waste on strangers' downvotes.

I should have known what I was getting myself into, but I didn't.

I am hereby changing my "religious view" to "music". Music is the most consistent relationship I've ever had, as powerful as one may expect to have with a deity. For lack of any better reasoning, Music = God. That's what it is for me. It's been my religion all along! WHOA.

I'm going to go and let my brain explode, but I'm glad I got that off my chest.

and I'm stuck listening to the amazing songs from kutiman's 'thru-you' mashups. lost in some emotion, mayhap. also using words from the 1700's because it seems like the right thing to do at the time. and, the time is 11:40am,

almost noon for reals?
what, for reals?


no way

cause i woke up at like 4pm yesterday, i might actually make that dreadful 24-hr mark, and i've made a few investments in my short-term future, none of which i expect to have approved by most others. and, what is this?

oh, okay: i'm going to do ecstasy.

it was a pretty big decision, to be honest. i might seem like i'm careless about drug use, but i have even more experience with impulsiveness. this is anything but the latter, and it actually seems like a good idea right about now.

i was thinking back to mushrooms the other, which i had sworn off a few years ago, and i'm standing by the decision as of yet.

i never took acid, because of the whole friend-jumped-over-the-2nd-story-balcony-on-acid thing: what if i were to have the same impulse?

i took quite a lot of dxm. straight-up, not the good kind, fucking murderous cough syrup. a lot of it. in high school years, it was not an uncommon thing for practically everyone i knew.

without the drugs, i might be a completely different person. for better or for worse, but i'd imagine neither. i can't realize either anyway, so what in the fuck do i care? i'm finally not concerned about prospects of trying a new drug, and it's been an amazingly long time.

i thought of dreadlocks fondly the other day, but josh would never have that in his tastes, so i brushed off the concept.

not sure where to go from where, because i've been awake for about twenty hours. if there was math, then just fucking do it.

i fucking hate math

i fucking love life again, and i expect that ecstasy will only reinforce the value of my existence.
sometimes, when you're in an odd place, it's best to throw everything out the window and develop more surreal understandings of those things that can't be changed. i am happy to have the freedom to make such a decision, and have finally decided on this 'right time' for a new idea. those five hours will give me more to go by than i'd previously invited into my frame of mind.

in a way, i guess i'll always be a hippy.

...Apparently, at some point in the far past, I had begun a playlist of songs on my youtube account:



Who knows what was originally going on there.

But, hey! I fucked around on fruityloops last night while my boyfriend blasted the noise away with a pair of headphones attached to gruesomely bad techno shit. I could still hear it because there is no barrier between his ear and the little speaker. In terms of construction, it is the Serengeti Plains in comparison to a household hallway.
I enjoyed being upset about the noise, and as he had recently re-upholstered the ripped left arm of his computer chair, I asked if he might be able to insulate those headphones with clear tape or something. It was all in good spirits, but he decided to go to bed within thirty seconds of my question. He also told me that he wasn't mad at me, but a smartish remark might have put him to sleep for the night.
I feel a little bit bad about that.

Then I had thought earlier, while in the shower, about astronauts. I know, I know. What in the fuck?

But I was thinking, like...
Okay, so.

What if two of the astronauts (one male, and one female) on a mission had an affair, and the female was impregnated.
What if, for some NASA-ish reason, they couldn't just get back to earth immediately and put her in a doctor's office for the routine check-up? What if the baby's formation was reactive to the nature of her surroundings? Like, I mean, in fucking space?

And that's what I thought about for several minutes, as I attempted to spend hours in the bathroom. I failed at spending hours in the bathroom. It took me less than an hour to leave the perimeters of my household bathroom once Josh had returned from his 24+ hr. rendezvous with family and turkey.
I stayed home, I did nothing, I saw no one, and I preferred it to my other option for the year.
It could have been more than several hours of the loved one's kinfolk, and I wasn't really hip to that.

When he did get home, though, we had a small amount of conversation.
And he was just like, "the meds you're on are making you worse"

That's probably true because I've felt like flaming shit since it all began,
And that seems worse than feeling like flaming shit only half of the time.

But when I see my playlist of music, I get a little bit happier again. It's 6something AM, though, so I still feel pretty bad.

Whatever, though.

I was thinking about this earlier, too: What the fuck is with the whole "there's a number you can call if you feel like suicide" thing? Like I said to Josh earlier, I have no fucking idea what another person might claim about my moods or tendencies if they happened to borrow my shoes for a day. I'm way too squeamish to ever try harming myself. I would never, ever, ever try to commit. I've never been good at commitments of any sort anyhow, but really, I'm just squeamish.
So, if someone borrowed my shoes for a day, I could just as well have been dead by now.

Good luck on my part, I suppose,

Anyhow, I've felt a lot more of that in the past week (amongst other things that have been really uncomfortable and not good for sharing).

So I quit taking the crazy med that caused all of the horrible nightmarish dreams and the daytime depressive zombie bullshit, and that whole thing was just really horrible. I felt pressure between my eyes as the chemical let off, and it was almost as if I was waking up.

Several times in the past week, I couldn't figure out what had actually happened, and what had been a dream.
That wasn't so cool.

I was so nervous about the woman and the fog before I realized it was irrational to begin with. That it was a dream and all.


Self-medicating was never as brutal as that.

...happy thanksgiving.


my family didn't really have anything planned for thxgvng (both my sisters were unable to go home) so i already knew that i wasn't going to be with them today. josh would have had to drive another hour for practically nothing if i'd decided to show up, anyhow.
we'll save that nerve wreckage for xmas, i suppose.

he woke up late and immediately left for his parents' houses. i think he's going to his dad's first this year. then, he's driving back to bradenton where his mom & step dad live.

i didn't go with, because my anxiety has a leash on me every day. when his family is in the picture, i tend to run far and fast from the scene. they're really awesome, great, nice, and accepting people (his mom's side. his dad is weird, but he's sort of a fox news type anyway, and josh knows it too), but i basically just freak out whenever i'm drawn into their surroundings by josh.
when i go with josh on a normal (non-thxgvng) day, it already feels like we're driving into a storm front. that storm front feels like a hurricane. i am headed straight for a hurricane. and i am absolutely fucked. this obviously isn't the case but i can't help but feel that way every time.

the medication that the doctor gave me... i'm taking it as directed, and all i have to show for it so far is an anxiety-ridden thanksgiving that renders me useless and lonely in the discomfort of my own home-- and, every night so far, dreams that are horribly vivid and insane.

last night i was in the middle of a shooting from the other side of the road, stuck in a car, trying to run to the side of a neighbors house while hoping that the shooters didn't target me on the way. there was also a dance party inside of a rustic barn-like venue that opened up to a beach on its back side. my mom and sisters, her ex-boyfriend, my dad, and a whole bunch of old faces from school were riddling my tired mind with scenarios that involved escaping danger, fatigue, and loud noises.
and a random woman in full exercise attire, hair pulled back through a baseball cap in a chocolate-brown pony tail, as tan as if you may think she slept in sheets made of UV rays, who was pushing about a year's worth of groceries in a home depot - style cart. as she proceeded up inclines toward houses, she maintained the stance of an overly determined body builder.
then all of my best friends were separated into three different cars, trying to weave our way onto the interstate, while there were parks and beautiful stopping places all the way up the ramp, and our walkie talkies had fallen out of range before we'd even traveled a half mile from whence we'd come.


if i wanted to have fucking insane dreams all night, every night, i would just stop smoking pot.

I woke up so pissed off that, as soon as I came to a voice, I started crying and screaming at the same time. Yesterday I checked into the Tampa Family Heath Center at 10:11am, and I just managed to see an actual doctor at 2:30pm. I even walked down the block and brought back some fried shrimp for lunch, and thought about how jealous everybody else in the waiting room probably was. There are these signs on the entrance that forbid food & drink indoors, or smoking 50' within the building. I talked to the nurse who scheduled my Dec. 7 appointment (because walk-ins do not have the benefit of referrals, amongst other patient services... walk-in patients only get to be seen for one chief complaint), and she basically debunked every sign that there was to read upon entering the facility.
I had initially decided that, despite realizing how excruciatingly long the wait was going to be with no appointment, it was immensely important to get a refill on my Ativan 1mg prescription. That's the as-needed anti-anxiety medication that the previous ($50 visit) general practitioner gave me about three weeks ago.

**I'm taking a brief intermission from the continuation of my digressive post. Then, from posting expired Polaroid 779 film for sale on craigslist -- to the highest offer. And having a cigarette, re-reading this second letter received from my inmate pen-pal, Jenetta, possibly beginning to write my response.**

So when I saw yesterday's doctor, she was unable to refill my prescription that had seemed to've been working relatively well. She was, in fact, unable to prescribe any medication with any form of "street value", which was disappointing, since I had no intentions outside of benefiting from the prescription I already had.
Instead, she prescribed me to Mirtazapine (take at night before bed), and Hydroxine Pamoate (every 6 hrs as needed for anxiety). This was not the kind of outcome I'd hoped for, because the Ativan could have made my Thanksgiving day so much easier. The anti-anxiety doesn't seem to be helping much so far.
I'm giving it time, as I've already got an appointment scheduled for the 7th of next month anyhow, but I'm thoroughly disappointed by everything so far. I'll be requesting a referral to a psychiatrist. Hopefully s/he'll be a bit more helpful.

I'm trying to write that letter back to the prison inmate, and not much is happening towards that puny goal of mine at the moment.

Josh's desktop computer (which is predominantly for gaming) had taken its final shit on him last week, and he counteracted much of his own disappointment by immediately going online and ordering ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS' WORTH of desktop hardware to build a new superb gaming computer. I only began to find out about his personal spending spree when he yelled through the phone at me about inadvertently missing some UPS drop-off when I was out.
The day after finding out about how much he'd spent, I went out and blew a hundred dollars of my own on a bunch of stuff like makeup and clothing. It didn't make me feel any less disappointed in the fact that he can spend so much on himself without even blinking... meanwhile, he has yet to think of getting me flowers or jewelry! Nothing romantic ever happens, and that's for sure.

Anyhow. I don't know. Here are some pictures.
Like I previously posted... I've dyed my hair one more time (the first one was semi-permanent anyhow),


I've done more work on the most-recent painting re-work project,


My patio is becoming my new fortress of solitude and retrospect,

...SEE HOW MUCH PLANT LIFE THERE IS...

When I finally succeeded at expressing to Josh my specific reasons for disappointment, it basically helped nudge him toward investing in slightly-better organization around the household. I felt like that was a more-than-reasonable contribution on his behalf. While we were at home depot, we didn't just purchase supplies for our uprising patio ensemble. I feel so relieved about these subtle upgrades!

I finally feel like I've got a legitimate art station for myself,




...And I decorated the tree with "admit one" tickets that I had laying around in the artsy craftsy pile.

I dyed my hair one more time, on Saturday morning.

there was a spur in my side, and it was inspiration.

i went to the mall and bought three new cute skirts, a cute reddish-brown pair of sandals, and a MUCH NEEDED NEW PURSE.

i'm not one of those gals who collects a thousand purses and never uses them.
i have a committed relationship with each purse before it is retired to a box in my closet..

i changed out my purses on a bench inside of the mall. i put on my new sandals, and threw the old flip flops into the old purse.

and i went home.

the third-floor neighbor called me, and then i opened the door and let her in. that was the eagle, landing.

nevermind.

i dyed my hair yesterday. you can hardly tell a difference.

...the old (natural) color:

AND the new (hard to tell, sort of) color...

it's not permanent, but i might decide to make it permanent anyhow...
I REALLY LIKE HAVING DARKER HAIR!
i also made my porch feel like an outdoor living room. perfect for the wintertime!

i can imagine myself spending a lot of time here.

one last thing.
i decided to "fix" an old painting that didn't work at all.
i took my initial actions towards the transformation of an old personal item today.

this is what it looks like when it's waiting to be loved, i suppose.


i found the utter void a bit intriguing, somehow.

...that's all i have to share for the moment.

I finally went to a General Practitioner on Wednesday, and received an ativan prescription for my anxiety. I can sort of tell that it's helping me, now. It's the end of the day, and I don't feel like crying. The Doctor also informed us (Josh mostly, he could actually remember what the guy was saying) that Hillsborough County provides its own unique Healthcare system. It's exactly what I needed to see to change my mind about giving up. We collected the necessary information and went there today. It's a block down the street.

A woman helped me set up an appointment to speak with a case worker on Wednesday of next week... she even put me ahead of some other appointments, and gave me the very first one in the morning. I was sobbing so uncontrollably in the room that I had down to write the answers to her questions on a sheet of paper the whole time. I was crying because I'm so tired, I've tried everything I've come across, and I hadn't seen as much progress as I did today: sitting in an office with a woman who actually wanted to help. I finally felt like something might actually happen. I'm afraid of getting my hopes up, because it seems too easy. Everything has been so hard, this can't be so easy.

There were a few bumps in the road with the documents, but I'll get to find out what comes next on Wednesday. I just have to make it until then, and the as-needed anti-anxiety medication helps make that seem like it might even be possible.
Hillsborough County HealthCare's system seems like a really unique (and for me, lucky) opportunity.

I really have nothing left in me now.

  Another day of weaving in and out of false prospects of the mental health I deserve to find.

  Something cool happened again, though, and I feel a little better afterward, because I have something new to think about.

  While Josh was bartending the wedding on Saturday, I had the great fortune of meeting an awesome couple of guys.  One of them was a painter, and from what I saw of his work, I was definitely impressed.  Apparently, the feeling was mutual, and he gave me his email for possible future correspondence.  I had also said I'd send him links to some of my other work (and it's a good thing I made it a bit better the other day), and so I did just that.

  His response was an invitation to showcase artwork with him at a wine bar in Orlando.
  
  I'm currently considering how I can possibly respond.

  How many pieces?  None of my artwork is framed...  
  I would be more than honored to share a wall with it.  Anywhere.  

  I'd be pretty stupid to pass up an opportunity like that, wouldn't I? 


  Anyway, though...

 Today is really quite interesting.

  Finally, I've received the first reply from the prison inmate I had chosen for a pen pal.  Not just because it was something to do (which doesn't hurt, either), it seemed like it could provide an interesting, or even an inspiring experience.  It's certainly a unique opportunity to do more than just talk to myself inside my own little bird brain.
  Here's a fun-filled detail from the note in its entirety:

I'll be laughing on the inside for a considerable amount of time.

It was a good day for the reminder that people are capable of being so fucking awesome, even in a single glance.  And, I'm glad that sometimes this astounding capability is put to such whimsical use.  People don't even realize how awesome they can be, and that might even be the MOST beautiful part of it all.  It is a silent internal function that moderates itself according to one's level of well-being and self-awareness.  It is just that awesome.

Anyway, I needed that.
  
  I spent a pretty big chunk of yesterday on trying to establish consistency in the quality of my online artwork.  The representations are much better now than they were two days ago.  Regardless of falling short of perfection, I'm perfectly content for now. 
  
  And chatted on facebook last night with a very loved one, a best friend, Joe.
  I think that I basically summarized my appreciation for him, and that was a long time coming.  Because, Joe wasn't only one of my best friends as I got to know him.  He was really the first young man that I ever had so much love for, so I guess that I'd call him my 'first love'.
That's more of a suiting title than I can possibly feel comfortable with at times.  
  I basically opened a window in an unused room, and let the stale air dispense to from where it once came.

  This entire morning was spent on seemingly-endless hold with mental health establishments that, three times in a row, only provided me with a phone number for somewhere else.
  
  I can't begin to explain how frustrating it truly is, to honestly need the help you're trying desperately to get, in order to successfully get the help you need.  It is plain fucking ironic how hard it is to seek appropriate mental healthcare as an unemployed, uninsured, lower-class citizen with severe anxiety.  At points, it seems that going after appropriate mental health care is like asking to have my toes smashed in every door I've struggled to make it through.  However, I finally went online and filled out a contact request form with a mental health center that will bill me on a sliding scale, based on my utter lack of income.  Awaiting response.
  I called Josh and talked to him for a moment about what I was up to at the time, and I started crying when I began to mention the difference between his mental health options (he has insurance through his mother and is a USF student), and myself (can't even function consistently enough to finish a fucking college application, emotionally incapable of responding to his family visits in a respectful fashion, shooting myself in the feet, every step of the way, just to pull off a successful search for mental health aid).  
  I'm jealous of his ease, in comparison to my completely disabling circumstances.  How many years has it been, honestly, that I had no consistent grasp of realistic emotional responses to external stimuli?  In the first grade, when the spelling word was "fat", it even made me cower in my chair.  When strangers smile and laugh with one another, and as they graze my side to pass by, I feel as if they must have found something to make fun of me about.  I feel like they're silently exchanging a joke about me, but I would never be able to guess what or why.  I know that it doesn't make any sense, and I'm entirely incapable of registering that fact on any emotional level whatsoever.  I can't really explain what that state of being is like to survive in.  It can easily be more incapacitating than I'm capable of expressing.  
  To have no straight-forward resources to a much-needed (and otherwise plausible) solution, is like getting shot in the head before you were even born.  I could have been someplace else right now, and I'm glad that I'm not.  I love Josh, I appreciate him more than I can possibly prove.  I still speak with my mother's side of my family, but the other half of my bloodline is nothing but toxic to my veins.

  It took a long time for my sisters to turn off the light like I did, and they had resented me very deeply for the way my father's mother would insist upon obtaining my mailing address and phone number from them.  They never gave in, so I'm admittedly in debt to them for it.  The summary of that situation makes me sound like at least three different shades of a complete asshole.  I am certain that is not the case, and I won't get into the story of her horribly unjustified actions throughout time.
  
  What scares me, at points, is the feeling that my sentience is cut up unevenly into pieces.  It's sort of like a pizza with some toppings you love, and some toppings that you absolutely despise.  It's as if my access to certain qualities of existence are basically not in my slice at any given point in time.  
  I can't think of a single way to prove my emotional/mental circumstances, but I thought I'd might as well try to express them.  I'm an otherwise-functioning human being, and most people who meet me once would never look twice to think I was reasonable enough.  It hurts in such a uniquely-regrettable fashion, though, to feel as awkward.  
  When I explained to Josh's mother why I seemed incapable of 'wanting' to see her, or the rest of his family, her understanding nature entitled her with the advice that I deserve to feel as good as everybody else.  I liked that idea of being capable of feeling as good as anybody else can.  It still makes me very jealous, though, that it's so much harder for me than it is for "them".

In other, lighter news...

 snoringbeautee  has inspired me to consider purchasing a little moped.  Not like a scooter, though.  
More kitschy and vintage, like this:


  God, I can't tell you how much I love the look of those little things.  I wanna be 'that chick on the bike'.
  It's only sort a random idea, but unemployment compensation provides me with roughly enough money to thoroughly consider it.

  I'm wasting a bunch of time doing practically nothing, mostly because I'm unemployed.  It isn't that I really have too hard a time finding something to do, and there are easily a hundred things that I'm a step away from doing at any moment.
  Yesterday I decided that it sounded nice to go for a bike ride around USF campus, so I did.  I came home after having an unhealthy lunch in Copeland Park, and it was actually very enjoyable (and inexpensive!)  I think that the exercise probably outweighed the grease in the food (maybe not). 
 Every time I'm coming down the sidewalk, on the other side of Fowler, there's this one thing.  I always think it's sort of cool.
It's just one of those curious markings on the sidewalk, I'm sure that it's relevant to cables or pipes or what have you.
 
 Every time that I ride over that spot, though, I rearrange the letters and numbers until I can't remember if the Star Wars robot was CP3O or C3PO.  Yesterday I tried to run a google search for both.  It seems like the name is commonly confused.  That spot on the sidewalk, though, gives me a good excuse for being so confused.

 But that was yesterday.
 
 Today is different.
 I woke up and I didn't feel like leaving the house immediately.  Instead I felt like a bath, and:
 
  Then I swept the floors, did the dishes, and tidied a little bit.  The tea cooled down and I could drink it.
  And I put a bunch of honey in it.  And put on my last.fm radio station, because it is always awesome.
  Herbal tea and some happy times radio... and it's suddenly the afternoon?

  That happens if you're intermittently surfing reddit while accomplishing small tasks around the home.

  That's not a bad thing at all.

  I found this water-powered alarm clock.  I want it.  Now.
And,
  This guy is claiming a unique 3-day cure for cold sores.  
I wouldn't waste my money.

There are so many ways to waste time, but reddit is one of my absolute favorites.

   I spent my night at The Box Social, seeing a few of my super-friends perform in the band Fancy Rat, while another played the music sets between bands.  At the moment, I'm beginning to upload Fancy Rat's entire set...  despite the cruddy sound, it's still better than nothing.
  Anyway, for the couple of you livejournalists(*COUGHamandaCOUGHrachelCOUGHCOUGH*) who know a few of these folks, here are some pictures of the night...  
Brandon makes the room spin with his extensive library of hipster-approved albums on vinyl.


Adam and Brian prepare for Fancy Rat's set...


Mysteriously, there appears an enormous box of kleenex in the alley behind the venue!  HOLY FUCK!


AND...  IT'S BOB!  (Who else would make such a totally awesome costume!? )


...Brian is Doctor Who (although, the call box is a little bit of a slut).



Fancy Rat is (Clockwise from far left):  Kate McCall(vocals/keys), Toby (E. Guitar), Dan (Beatbox), Brian Yoder (Lead vocals/Acoustic Guitar), and Adam Brammer (drums).


I went as an autumn tree, sort of...  but I only spent an hour on the costume (at the very last minute)!!

I hope that everyone had a super badass Halloween!

Last thing I'm going to post here is the first successfully-uploaded Fancy Rat live footage...
Brian Yoder is going solo in these first two songs.

  i rewrote the subject line for this entry about eight times.  

  and, yes:  i am in my manic phase.  it's relatively easy for me to tell.  sometimes, though, the mania isn't so enjoyable.  i guess that i got lucky or something, other than my whacked sleep schedule...

and my extraordinary desire to completely remove my eyebrows:  
  
  there is one other noteworthy thing shown in these photos:  clearer skin than i've had in more than a decade.  that probably means nothing to anyone who isn't me, or hasn't been through more than a decade of continuous acne.  it becomes literally traumatic after a long enough time.  my best friend kate had gotten a few little trials from her dermatologist (since she has insurance, she can go and do things like that much more easily), and she gave me one of them to see for myself if it worked.  
  it works!  this is the first time - in over a decade, i'm serious - since i've felt this good about how i looked.
  the medication didn't work for her, but she had already gotten the prescription finalized...  so, i guess i'm getting it for her insurance discount, without having to pay to see a doctor.  thanks a million, friend!  it's totally awesome to suddenly know that i'll no longer have to deal with this seemingly-lifelong acne.

  all i can say about it, for now, is that my skin is amazingly clear -- it isn't perfect.  it's getting there, though.
  
  

    ...it's a good thing that halloween is already this saturday, because now i can put my eyebrow artistry to its best use.
  that's probably the only thing i'm going to do, even though i could get all sorts of dressed up without feeling ridiculous.  a few of the superfriends are playing part in a show at a venue called the box social, which is in the the heart of downtown sarasota.
  i'll also most likely have my hair dyed a darker shade of brown by my bestest friend, before it's time for her to perform that night in the band 'fancy rat'.

  during this incredibly intense manic phase, i've also done a few good things! 

  for example...  i decorated this in/out box to be reminiscent of a watermelon, and then i  topped it off with a dark wood finish:
  
  it looks pretty cool, doesn't it?  i am totally a supporter of using wood stains on things other than straight wood.

there's more good stuff too, but i really HAVE TO GO TO SLEEP.  
goodnight.


  

she seemed really cool during this past weekend's camping trip in apalachicola, and i gave her my number to give me a call.

in case she was bored and wanted a companion, or whatever.

i went along with her to ybor, and purchased a few navel piercing accessories inside of las vegas tattoo.
the next day, she accompanied me to the mall across the street, where i bought a new tankini.  i like it a lot.

today we went out to clearwater beach.


she hasn't decided, i guess, whether or not she's going to move here...  

but i really, really, really hope that she does.

   I just randomly decided to check out craigslist for good mountain bicycles again...  and I found this...
  That is an absolutely, no fucking doubt, sweet ass price for a totally awesome mountain bike.

  I am ridiculously excited...  even though it's a 26" men's bike.  I want it anyway...  if it's too big, there's no doubt in my mind that I could sell it and make a profit.

 The trip to Apalachicola was awesome.

Even though we only went out for one night, and it was five and a half hours away.

Actually, it wasn't too hard to find.

I'm posting pictures on my flickr photostream right now.

  Now I can go back to being a human being in a box-shaped room with rats and painting and AND AND!  Jason's visiting friend, Anita, is really cool.  I think we might go out and do something together one of these days, if she's down.  
  This weather has me down for nearly anything.

  I picked up a strange torn-open envelope from the ground while I was walking back from CVS pharmacy.
  What I previously thought was a series of strange babbling drawn lines is actually beginning to look like a child's attempt at drawing human being arms.  I'm still a bit interested.  
  
  I've made two random decisions that I may or may not continue to have interest in.
  1.  Finding strange scribblings on the ground, scanning them, and posting them on my site.  I'm not sure where this idea is trying to take me quite yet, because I just had it when I picked up that random envelope.

  2. Composing letters for prison inmates via lostvault.com by sketching the course of my regular day, making copies of the originals, and mailing them out in a distribution sense to cover more grounds.  I'm considering *not* including a return address.
  I just think it might be cool to grant them a day in the life of someone who is free.


I still smell like a campfire.

  we were planning on going camping about two hours east of here, but their campground was booked!

  so we're driving all the way to apalachicola for camping, instead...

  my 3rd-floor neighbor came down to my apartment tonight and hung out with me!  i'm excited that we actually chilled together, smoked out, and got along!  she texted me earlier and wanted to hang out & burn, so it was just sort of a nice surprise...  she's the same girl that josh paid ten dollars for the bike (which i am trying to sell on craigslist).  
  best part is that i found out i have a new buddy for biking and camping and kayaking and stuff!  i feel like she might take the "tomboy" friend spot that i so desperately needed filled.