k....well, Friday night was lovely. I stayed up till 4 am playing on There for the first time in about 8 months. And the best part? I rented a house in There!!!! Only old school Therians will understand how fucking cool that is, considering you used to have to cybersex someone's ass to get that opportunity in the past. I have decorated it in the style that I called "eclectic chaos", I think Danu would agree with that statement. Even cooler, Danu moved in next door in another house (we're in Tyr, baby!), so woot woot! Neighbors!
Saturday and Sunday, I spent lots of time with Jason and Austin. We bored ourselves senseless most of the time, but did go out to catch a dollar movie and to swing by Barnes and Nobles. B&N made me mad because they no longer have "There and Back Again: A Hobbits Tale", that I have to order it to get it. That is completely unacceptable to me. We saw "Shark Tale", and I was sadly dismayed to realize how stupid it was. Even with Jack Black and tons of other lovely actors providing the voices, I thought it was terribly boring, predictable, and didn't even have enough one-liners to keep me even partially entertained. Blech on that movie!
Saturday night, I curled up on the computer and watched Kill Bill, Vol 1. Now though I know my best friend would disagree, I totally loved that movie and dug it hard core. Although I can't stand Tarantino's persona, I freaking get off on his films. And for the record, I didn't find the killings pointless and senseless, but rather artistic and sensible. Had I been in a similar position, I can imagine myself doing the same thing. I finally received Vol 2 tonight and hope to get my freak on tomorrow when I get back from working at the other property.
All through the weekend and continuing on at this very minute, I am dealing with the fourth period in 35 days. This makes me want to kill someone. I haven't had sex in over a month, and just when I'm starting to warm up to the idea again, mother nature decides to kick my ass again. Why? Why must it torture me? Besides that, I'm completely out of Advil and all forms of Ibprofren (is that spelled right?) so I'm ready to cut my own organs out. I agree with a former poster who wants to kiss whoever invented that drug. Though at this point, I'd be willing to go a little Kill Bill on someone for three pills of the stuff.
Monday was the all too lovely day off work for Martin Luther King Jr. I thoroughly enjoyed that day, although I was so tired by the end of it that I could barely move. My parents came down to bring me two tall bookshelves to make up for dumping everything I ever owned at my house (while Mom went through her whole "clear out the house of all adult children's stuff" phase). We ate dinner at the Chinease buffet (as always), and had a horrible incident on the way back to the house where our two cars got separated and mom and dad were lost. They about brought me to tears, which I had to hold back because Dad is in one of his bad downswings and his reaction to the separation was less than normal or perfect. Even though I caught only a minute fraction of his screaming and freak out about it, it was too much to bear.
I thought with age that I could handle these times of his better, but I've been wrong more than once. I guess it will never be easy to live with a parent who has extreme mental psychoses, and I really have to respect the way that my mother has made it through it all, despite all of her own quirks and issues. I understand why he won't receive help, but have never understood why he doesn't realize how much we go through during his "phases". Very few people understand just how bad my father is, and even fewer have witnessed it. This makes it all the more difficult for anyone to understand how it is to be his daughter. They see such a different side of my father, and though they may sometimes think that he is just "moody", his paranoia, delusions, and violent rages go way beyond all that. One of my greatest fears is realizing this sickness in myself, and though I feel that I have taken great strides at improving my own mental disorders, every time that I explode in anger or anxiety, I hear the same tone in my voice that I always heard in his. I break a little more each time when I realize how alike it sounds. I don't want to be what he is, and I don't want to treat my loved ones the way that we have been treated. I don't want to say that I'm the same as him, but I see the potential, and that scares the living shit out of me. That is part of the reason why that I worked so relentlessly on my PTSD and the paranoia that came into my life after the abduction. I feel that there are just small steps between me and becoming my father. I knew that if the paranoia continued, that I could very likely trigger the schizophrenia. I have held on to every last shred of help that I have received, and I vow to myself that if anyone ever tells me that I need help that I will seek it. Hell, I've sought it without ever even being told. Perhaps that only will save me from his fate. I only wish that I could save him from his.
I swear, I could write for days about my father. I could write about the bad times, the up times, the times when I was so frightened for my family and for him that I thought about killing myself, or him, or leaving forever and never coming back. I could tell you about the alienation of affection, about finally finding common ground, about hideouts, delusions, imagined events, grand schemes. How it felt to live life behind the facade that everything is ok, while secretly living in hell at home. But I won't. Not today. Never today.
After my parents left, I fell back into the depression, but managed to convince Jason to help me put together the bookcases. Once assembled, I began the arduous process of filling them with the boxes of dusty books that Mom had brought to me a few months before. Now my living room wall is completely covered with book shelves while the other one is filled with racks of discs, dvds, cds, and video tapes. Me loooooooooooves some stuff. I went a little crazy and alphabetized all the music, dvds, and xbox games and made my idle threat of treating the bookshelves to the dewey decimal system (I still may). It makes me feel warm when I look over at all the books. Each one symbolizing a part of my life. It's a better version of my life story than anything I suppose.
After the bookshelves, I went through a few other boxes of childhood crap that they brought, some with horror and some with smiles. I grimaced at the boxes and boxes (no exaggeration) of old magazines, pictures, posters, and merchandise of my first big obsession,New Kids on the Block. (shudders and hides) Just looking at the sheer enormity of it all made me laugh because I realized that I haven't really changed all that much except that now, all of it is carefully cateloged away in computer files. But the obsession size is still the same. I'm going to pick out a few pieces of memorabilia and then toss the rest, especially since most of that is posters anyway.
I also found all my yearbooks and all my diplomas (2 highschool and BA). Took me a long time to remember what the hell I had done with my BA but finally found it hidden away in a briefcase in the back of the closet. I pulled it out and set it up on top of one of the new bookshelves to spur me on to furthering my education. Perhaps that too will help, god knows I keep glancing up at it with pride.
Yesterday I had to work at our other property in Scottsville, just starting to train the new manager and to follow up and tie up some loose ends from their inspection last week. I thought I was done going down there, but received a call today from the boss lady who asked me if my maintenance man and I could go down there tomorrow. So I'll head back down there again then. I think that the new manager down there is going to be great at her job once she has a handle on proceedure. I just hope that she avoids burning out as quickly as I, and the other former managers did there. It's a tough property, but all it really needs is one manager with a good head on her/his shoulders, ethics, and enough time to straighten out what needs to be straighten out. So far, the new manager has proven herself to be highly ethical, intelligent, quick to learn, and has a realitistic view of the actual situation current. I feel that she can do it, she's just has to try. It won't be easy by any means, but even if she only takes it halfway, that's better than now.
Only an hour left of work....and I'm still excited about Lost Alias....I'm making cheddar and broccoli soup tonight with some three cheese biscuits. I wanted to have some foccacia sandwiches with the soup, but never got around to making the bread this weekend. Perhaps next week we'll have foccacia. How I loooooooooove foccacia.