That’s the truth

I’ll be posting my herbal stuff tomorrow. Today is for moi.

So. Had my regular shrink time yesterday. Dr T surprised me by prescribing me several sleeping pills. I didn’t think I was going too fast at all. Nor was I describing anything I hadn’t described previously. I just talked about how T is wearing on me lately because he’s too quick to blame me for anything and everything that happens around the house, and how I’m still having problems settling down after a band rehearsal. Maybe we’re at that point where he’s got to do a write-up to some health council to justify us still seeing each other. I don’t know. What I do know is I’m holding a script for sleeping pills. Ten of them. He warned me off taking them two days in a row or using them too often. No problem. Last sleep aid I tried was melatonin, which gave me very vivid nightmares from which I had trouble waking. I’m not all that eager to pop a pill to sleep. But, I figure I’ll try one out after our next rehearsal. See how blah it makes me post popping. See how I sleep on it. I did say to Dr T that the one thing I was afraid of was going off on a manic streak when I finally do land a job, so maybe it was that statement that made him do it. I suppose the smart thing is to NOT try and shrink my shrink. Just take the prescription and use as needed.

Conversation on T: Dr T reassured me what T is doing is all part of his autism. He acknowledged my viewpoint and suggested that I just get out of the house and away from him for a while each day. Dr T was also cool enough to acknowledge my cleaning streak, and how I have to tidy up my personal space before I can really go out in the world. It’s good for me to hear my actions aren’t way off the median scale of things.

It is just past 11 and already I’ve been chided to get the fuck out of my chair and take a walk. We’ve bright sunshine and mid teens temps. I planned to get out a bit anyway. T’s chiding makes me feel like I’ve been a real slug. But he’s not always here, and even when he is, he doesn’t always acknowledge what I do.

News over here: NL is currently facing a flu epidemic. Between Carnival and the warmer weather (and our relaxed measures), our flu rate has skyrocketed. And people are SICK with it. Out more than 2 weeks at a time sick. Plus, coronavirus. It’s not gone yet. Discussions on local elections. Not as high a turn out as expected. Not too much movement on the parties. The gov’t wants to ban fast food places near schools to try and curb obesity in kids. Oh, THAT’LL go down like gangbusters. Other: more reports on trying to get Ukrainian refugees settled. The housing shortage, language issues, and overcrowding are the big problems. Sadly, NL is doing what I imagine many places are doing: focusing all their energy on Ukraine and Ukrainians, rather than the myriad of refugees we actually receive. Other other: Spain is currently being hit by a dust storm that’s whipped up from the Sahara. We’re seeing gorgeous sunsets lately, which means we have a lot of crap in the air, too.

Heard from our band mate; he’s still got coronavirus and hasn’t even had 1 clean test yet. Yikes. At least he doesn’t seem to have bad symptoms.

Tried a new ‘do yesterday. I pulled my hair up into one of those up pointing ponytails. To me, it looks like the I Dream of Jeannie hairstyle, but that may be too old a reference for most of you. Anyway, it takes a couple of ponytails tied together to get it to look like that. And I rediscovered the pain of long hair. Oh, yes, I thought of my mother yesterday! The tail looked good, no doubt, but all the weight of my hair was held by the front tresses and by yesterday afternoon my hair and skull were aching where it was pulling. Could not wait to get it out. Plus, it’s too long. Again. Had real trouble separating my hair to do it. It was a weird childhood flashback. Up ’til now, I haven’t done a hairstyle that pulled like that. In other words, I haven’t hurt myself. But last night! Gods! I remember the same feeling, the itching to take my hair down every damned day when my mother did it. And I discovered there should be NO surprise at the admonishment I received on one of my report cards: Beeps is a clock watcher. Yeah. I was counting the seconds ’til I got my hair free. Ow! Even this morning, with an easier braid in my hair, the front locks ache from yesterday.

My hair really is way too heavy.

Still loving The Hunger Games. Strongly recommend it as a read. If you’re into that sort of thing, I mean. YA books. Or just good stories. I know most adults read adult stuff. Intellectual arguments or spy novels or some such thing. I find all that rather boring. I’ll even go so far as to say that I don’t enjoy most ‘adult’ books. Not the pacing nor the subject matter. Maybe that means I’m still stuck in a YA frame of mind.

Been wondering about that lately. Do I look anything like a 50 something year old woman? Should that matter? Should I feel embarrassed over my younger wardrobe, my hoodies and ripped jeans? Worst of all: are people laughing at me behind my back? Oh, yeah. I went that far. It’s hard not too, when groups of younger women tend to laugh once I pass them by. I remember cats like that, and they probably are laughing at me. I’m not sure I really care. On one hand, I do. Obviously. No one wants to feel like other people are laughing at their expense. On the other hand, they’re young idiots who know nothing. They’ll find out for themselves. Or they’ll die. Either way, it’s not my problem.

I be what I be. Even I don’t know what that is.

Almost noon. Time to wrap this up and get outside so I can honestly answer T that yes, I got out for a decent walk. I can soak my feet and do a pedicure when I get back. And I’ve a face mask to clean out my pores and relax me. So I’ve even a nice little reward for my post walk time.

It’s a Friday. Almost always a good day because it’s on the cusp of the weekend. No appointments to remember, no commitments to adhere to. Just a couple of days of time to catch up on cleaning and laundry and rest and fun. Even I, long out of a job, think that way. It’s so damned ingrained in me I can’t quite get away from it, so I’ll let it slide.

Want to hit another corner this weekend. Do some deeper cleaning while T is in the flat in case I fall off the step ladder or whatever I’m balancing on to get to the hard to reach places. Get some music in, too. T and I both feel better post rehearsing, so I need to make sure we do that. Plus I just bloody well need it. Make sure to take care of me, too. That’s important. Stay healthy, stay calm, don’t hurt myself and don’t get wound up into another manic spell.

Goddess, I feel like I’m back to balancing on a tightrope. Walk this thin line. Don’t sway, don’t vary your path. Just this narrow, restrictive path. One foot in front of the other. Slowly.

I hate feeling restricted.

And I miss my mania.

And THAT, to quote another old reference to which many of you will have no clue, is the truth.

Cluck, cluck

Hm. So. Ah.

Is anyone else confused? Probably not. Probably I am the only thinking person on this planet. I sure as fuck haven’t seen much evidence to support any other conclusion.

Let’s see. Russia ‘invades’ Ukraine. Really? The headlines are screaming that, but when I read between the lines I catch phrases like ‘the Russian backed rebels’, NOT Russia. And, btw, I noticed it took almost 3 weeks for international news to acknowledge that Ukraine has been under a civil war for years. So did Russia actually overstep? I heard Putin telling the rebels to fight for independence. No law against that. The US says that shit all the time while openly sending weapons and ‘experts’ to help said rebels. Oh! And the shelling? Well, that’s actually been going on for 8 years or so. It’s become more frequent, but it’s not like Ukraine was a quiet, 100% happy country to begin with. Those rebels have been holding out for years. Once again, Western news has deliberately obfuscated the problem, too. First they had the US speak about it. Then the UK. Then came the ‘EU’ position, sans EU representation other than old sound bites. Then NATO. Even I became confused as the news jumped from one perspective to the next.

A couple of other things I noticed, too. The first reveals the US’s true intention: gas. Less than 12 hours post ‘invasion’, the US released statements that they could sell to the EU as much gas as we want. The US has been fighting the Nordstream pipelines for years. And they are so VERY happy to finally have a ‘reason’ to push their product and agenda down the EU’s throat. Once again for the US, it shakes down to capitalism. Also, I head a litany of the weapons and troops that have gone to the Ukraine from each of the distraction groups mentioned. They don’t seem to be doing much, though. Just sitting there, watching. They are not helping Ukrainians. Just…sitting there. Even Zelenskyy said that. Why? If Russia truly did overstep into Ukraine, why are NATO forces just sitting there doing nothing? Because none of it is true. Ukraine is still a civil war.

A last thought: A person can change their nationality. Why not an entire region of people? This condemnation from various levels of ‘authority’ doesn’t sound good for Catalonia. They’ve wanted to break away for a LONG time now. Usually support is evenly split for them. But if NATO and the EU set precedents, and the question of Catalonia comes up again, they will have no choice but to vote for Catalonia and its people to continue to serve under a government they do not agree with for a nation they do not feel part of. The rebel areas in Ukraine have long wanted to be part of Russia. So much so that Ukraine has been under a civil war situation for many years. But their voices are discounted. Somehow the West thinks that anyone who pines for a return to Russian rule is brainwashed. Again, not true. I’ve met many Russians who had very fond memories of their homeland. I just don’t understand how an individual can change their nationality, but a group of individuals can’t. Seems hypocritical to me.

Postscript: Watch the markets. Fortunes are being made overnight. Or at least added to.

And, no mention of Biden’s poor approval rating. No mention of Bojo’s boozy parties. No mention of coronavirus, which continues to kill people at a mad rate. How…convenient.

News from over here: Ukraine is top of every report. Sometimes it’s all that’s talked about. Seems like everyone is eagerly climbing onboard the war machine, banging their drums to distract from all the crap their unhappy constituents are dealing with. Seems to we’re being conditioned for less products and higher prices, two almost unavoidable outcomes of war or failing economies. Easy to cover up the latter with the former. Big news in NL is that our restrictions are over with, other than wearing masks on public transport. I’ve been out and about sans mask. It’s weird. Can’t help but feel naked when I don’t have one on. And I’ve discounted how much even a light covering over my mouth and lower face helps keep me warm! Yikes! Take that off and head outside and find out just how biting the wind truly is. Brr. Not much else in the news.

I got a cavity. And an appointment for Tuesday at the dentist, to have it fixed. Ugh. It developed under a filling. Just a ‘fluke’ that sometimes happens. I don’t have very good luck with my teeth. I hope it gets fixed and that’s the end of it.

Pulled out my keyboard to check on a few things. Got my email out to the repair guy and noticed he mentioned he’s booked up ’til April. I have an appointment for 30 April. If I can get it repaired faster somewhere else, I will. I guess with everything opening up, bands are all getting their gear cleaned and repaired. At least I have one octave that plays.

*sigh* I don’t trust anyone these days. I don’t think it helps that I’ve been binge watching The Good Wife, which to me, perfectly represents all I hate about the US. Everyone’s hidden agendas! Back stabbing and lying and cheating and betraying. Yeah, that’s my US experience to a T. It began with my family and just kept on from there. Oh! And I am so glad I didn’t seriously consider becoming an attorney. SO glad! And maybe I’m just being paranoid. I won’t deny that possibility.

But. And. Things sure look bad.

I keep pointing that out.

I hope someone is listening.

If not, I am the lone wolf. The mad member of society. Chicken Little. Yes. Literally, I am Chicken Little.

Cluck, cluck.

Like dominoes, they fall

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. The steady movement of my egg timer dominates the room. It is Thursday, the day I inject myself. My smoking takes on an extra urgency; I’ve a few scant minutes before I must once again pierce my own skin.

I hate Thursdays.

It’s not so much the needle itself. I’m not terribly afraid of needles. It’s doing it to myself that’s my hang-up. Honestly, I’ve only injected my meds twice into my stomach area. Once under doctor’s supervision. Quickly found that’s my limit. My legs I can do; my stomach I can’t. Freaks me out too much. So I’ve a patchwork of needle injection areas on my upper thighs. Move things around every time. But I do wonder how many years it will take before I develop scar tissue from repeated needles.

Ri-i-i-i-i-ing! It is time. I open the alcohol swab and wipe away the remnants of clove oil, a useful topical anaesthetic I’ve used since this ritual began. As a child, I was never one to rip off plasters. Slow and steady were my watchwords. As an adult, I handily evacuate all air from the syringe and plunge the needle into my skin. Luck is with me today; small discomfort and no bruising.

*sigh* Anyone else notice my fast by-pass yesterday over my reluctance to take a selfie? I did. Truth is, it’s been weighing heavily on my mind. B asked for more pix and I’ve been faced with it head on. Gods. Can I get good enough lighting so I don’t look like a half dead zombie? As I’ve aged, I’ve learned how under handed I was about my looks – even to myself. The banter was there: I’m ugly, I’m fat, no one loves me. But I also thought I looked good. I had good skin and hair. Underneath all that learned self-depreciation, I was vain. Arrogantly vain. Now I am facing my aging self and finding it difficult. The bags under my eyes, the dark circles, the lines and even the occasional grey hair: I am not what I was. And in learning how vain I actually was in youth, I am confronted by all the cliches ‘beautiful’ or vain women face as we age. How, suddenly, I am invisible. I used to stand out. Now, I might as well be part of the wall. Have been berating myself for not taking more advantage of youthful beauty when I had it. Returning to an early adolescent stage. Goddess forbid anyone should laugh after I pass them by; I am immediately certain they are laughing at me. Full force paranoia. And if the laughing people happen to be young women, I’m even more certain they are laughing at me. I am all too aware I am a shabby, older version of my earlier self. A thousand emotions come over me when this happens (and, since I’m able to admit to my own paranoia, I can say it seems to come up an awful lot). I cement this madness with a ‘well, they’ll either learn or they won’t; nothing I can do about it’. I mean… you either age and go through it, or you die early. Your choice.

And, my ambivalence on the entire subject does not make anything easier. On one hand, I know I could up my personal appearance by using all sorts of make-up and hair products. On the other hand, I feel that’s feeding into a masculine driven bias that women need that in order to be attractive.

What did I say yesterday about inner peace? Oh, yes. Not a drop is cheaply bought.

Ugh. I know what that means. Am I catching no breaks, or all the breaks? Epiphanies on top of epiphanies. They seem to be coming so fast lately I don’t have time to absorb one before the next breaks upon me. I’m in a state of continual, mind blowing realisation. The kind that cuts deep and changes lives. The only saving grace I have is my games, where I can mindless chase items. No thought; just do. Simple. Colourful. Safe.

… … And, how fucking arrogant I must have seemed to some. I look back now, mouthing those learned phrases to depreciate myself because if I didn’t, C would start on me. But, yeah. Gods. Arrogant. I understand why people accused me of that in the past. I get it.

Fuck. When you finally break that last resistance and see things from the other side, with clear vision… Well. Fuck is all I can say. Regret threatens me even more. And I have worked hard to not regret my decisions. But age brings all things into focus, and I’ve learned to… If not regret, at least wonder at the might have been.

That’s not to say I’ve grown unhappy with my status. There are things I’d like to see improved on, but over all I am grateful for everything I’ve got. Yet still, there are times I wonder at the might have been. Certainly one thing is sure: I would not be here, typing away on this blog, if I hadn’t chosen this course.

And… Though hard won, I cherish the wisdom I’ve learned.

The puzzle pieces of my life fall into place. Like dominoes, they fall.

Not fun at all

Sleep. Real, solid, hours long, sleep. Amazing how quickly two little pills does the trick. And how much I miss them when I don’t have them.

News first, because it’s in my face.

Getting warnings here of a second wave. Seeing numbers rise, mostly because we’re letting tourists in. Amsterdam had to close down sections of the city this week due to overcrowding. Ten people flew into the airport just north of Rotterdam and tested positive. Even more at Schipol. Problem is, they’re only telling people within 2 rows of the infected. Huh? Airplanes recycle air. It’s a ‘savings’ measure they introduced after banning smoking on flights. They used to get fresh air in the cabin. Now, you’re just breathing other people’s exhalations. In other words, if one person is infected, everyone is exposed. So in my mind, we’ve dozens to hundreds of exposed people walking around playing tourist right now. Hospitalisations remain steady, but that doesn’t mean we’re not headed for a second lock down. Very hush-hush right now; oh, of course we won’t do that again! Yeah, right. Pull the other one.

The US. Well, you’re leading the world in a couple of nasty categories. I guess 45 DID make the US number one again. After all, he didn’t specify what categories in which the US would be number one. I think he’s fulfilled his word. Now you’ve just got to recover – if you can – from his ‘rule’. If he lets the White House go without a fight, which I don’t think he will. Though… Wouldn’t it be funny to see troops dragging him out of the WH while he kicks and screams? I think so. History will NOT be kind to that man. Nor any of his family. And they deserve every bit of what they get.

But, lack of leadership aside, what the HELL is going on? Yeah, I know I’m a day or two behind what’s actually happening. Right now we’re getting a load of stories about full camo, masked federal troops kidnapping people off the streets. Wow. THIS is America, the ‘land of the free’? How far you’ve fallen! I knew the entire US was rotten from the core out, but this -! It’s shocking. Then again, I was shocked while living in Canada and watching American films. T and I rented something, don’t remember what the name of it was. A teenage film, with teen stars. But it had a scene of fully armed commando style federal agents bursting into the house – thru the door and windows – without a warrant, while all the children were home. THAT shocked me. It was just…accepted as the norm, even then. And now, you’re just there.

In other words, you’re fucked.

Here it comes. Internal war. International war. Climate crisis. Pandemic. Humanity is about to break. Meanwhile, if you watch CNN, all you get is the old white guys stroking their own penis while the world burns. Oh, don’t be too upset! Spend your millions and go to a private island like this one, where the natives will cater to your every need for enough of your money. Buy a Timex to watch the hours tick away and invest in a new Mercedes to burn more fossil fuels and go faster than most roads allow. You’re American, and this is your legacy. Consume right up to the end.

Gods. No wonder we’re on the edge I saw so long ago.

Other than total lack of faith in America, Americans, and the American dream, I think I’m doing okay. Began ‘wearing’ the idea that I am thin, beautiful, and rich. Just inserting it into my mind whenever disparaging thoughts come up. It’s an interesting experiment. Very calming, if I’m honest. It could also get me to sit on my ass for the rest of my life, and I don’t want to be there. So, moderation. Again. *sigh* In everything. My new mantra will NOT become a reason for my dumbbell set to get dusty.

Paranoid about losing myself in house lock down again. Repeating to myself what day it is. Friday, 24 July. Have set up multiple alarms on my computers and phone for my upcoming appointments. Also… August is almost here. Odd. I feel like I’m getting less of summer than ever, tho that really isn’t true. I’ve been getting more sun in than I have for decades. I guess it’s the idea of lock down that’s beginning to bug me. Even tho I don’t attend concerts and stuff, knowing that none of that is going on makes me feel disconnected. Other years, I’d think to myself: Well, you could go, if you wanted. Now, I don’t even have that.

I guess finding out that it ain’t all that fun when the world mimics my own hermit behaviour is, well, not fun at all.

No, sir. Not fun at all.

I fear him

Regular monitoring. No fever.

My stomach has gone crazy; non-stop gas, burps, farts and general discomfort. Discussed my concerns with my bro. While he didn’t diss my concerns, he did point out that it’s probably still stress over the Roberto incident. T noted my increased vigilance around the house. Supportive with that, too, although things like the deadbolt are probably not necessary.

Sadly, my bro is most likely correct. As he said to me last night, it took over 3 years before I went through the total stress of my stalker (an ex, who was also a guy who liked to use his fist on me), suffering repeated nightmares and anxiety attacks. In other words, I allow myself to take on a LOT of stress without complaint. Shows, I think, how I was conditioned to that. I learned early on to swallow my fear and stress. Giving voice to it only resulted in negative situations. I do it so well I’m not even aware I’m doing it. So I gotta go thru the back-lash.

T picked up a couple of medical masks when he got his meds from the apotheek. Thus far, we’ve not used them. Good to have something in the house, tho.

Both of us headed out for some smoke late yesterday afternoon. Came back on the tail end of rush hour. Almost everyone was sitting or standing alone. Was actually surprised to see as many on the metro as I did. But I guess since I was one of those people I should just shut up about it, right? Compared to normal rush hour, the metro was empty, so most people are following the rules and only going out when necessary. No one looked sick and I heard no coughing or sneezing.

Once again, I enjoyed seeing Rotterdam with so few people. I like being able to walk across streets without anxiety over traffic. I like being able to amble around the shopping area, walking willy-nilly from one side to the other without playing the dodge game. I like the scope of my vision, the lack of my sight being cut off from so many other human bodies.

We’ll see how things go this weekend. The temp will be warmer, the forecast is for sunshine. NL is sending out regular warnings. I’ve received several on my phone to stay at home and not go to the beach or parks.

As for here… Heard some loud(er)…um…discussion?…coming from downstairs. Male voice, not happy. Did not last long, but didn’t help my tummy, either. It happened while I was trying to get to sleep. My bedroom is right next to the shower room. As far as I can tell, the vent in the shower room runs through the entire building, from top to bottom. I can often hear things I probably shouldn’t, and I know it’s because it’s echoing through that system. That may have been what I heard last night. Usually I hear Roberto loudest in the living room; this was different. I tensed up and waited. Waited for more yelling, waited for the screaming to start at our front door. It didn’t come. Finally was able to relax and sleep.

That kinda shit ain’t helpin’ me.

Nor is the certainty that Roberto WILL be back at our door. I can’t shake it, no matter what my bro says to me. He only saw me after. After I’d really shook my stalker off. How? I called the police, knowing he was wanted for unpaid driving violations, while he was bothering me on the phone at work. I kept him talking until the police were at his door and arrested him. THAT’S how I got rid of my stalker. Left that job after that, changed my hair color, didn’t go anywhere he might go. Naturally, he found me again later on. But I did make a clean break. When T got back from the military, my stalker was in jail. I was just going thru the back-lash of the entire 2 years of stress. He didn’t experience first hand the doggedness of that person. How my stalker was absolutely incapable of ‘letting things go’. I did, and I learned my lesson well.

So CALL me paranoid. Go ahead; I really don’t care. My experience tells me to feel that way, to be afraid, to be on guard. I have seen the WORST of what it can.

Smoking regularly, all day. Watching films and fun stuff. Playing games. Doing my best to distract myself. Reminding myself several times a day that I am NOT alone; my bro is here. Wishing to the Goddess that I didn’t have to face this fear again.

And I’m not talking about my fear of getting sick.

I fear him.

Things will get worse before they get better

Problems sleeping. Still on edge from Roberto’s bullshit, still waiting for the next outburst. My bro said he wasn’t sure if Roberto was gonna show up again. I said I’m positive he will; I know the type. Roberto won’t be able to let things go. He’ll follow the same pattern he’s shown up to now: he’ll be quiet about it for a while, until he works himself up or sets himself off or drinks enough or not enough. Then he’ll be at our door again, banging and yelling his head off. I’m so positive of this that I’ve got my bro to comply with the deadbolt. We’re keeping it drawn when we’re both at home. Even thinking I’ll tell my bro to SMS me when he gets back from a run because I’ll draw the deadbolt when he’s gone, too. That’s where I’m at. Afraid. Determined not to be intimidated even while I’m being intimidated.

Thought about all the possible outcomes of this. When faced with this type of aggression in the past, I often chose to run. Get away, not fight. Just live through it. Now? …Now I’m stubborn. I’ve lived through a HELL of a lot of pain at this point and I really don’t think that mother fucker can cause me any more than I’ve already felt. I am digging my heels in on this and not budging. He’s breaking the law every time he violates the noise ordinance. After his outburst at our door, I’m surer than ever that he’s used intimidation on the other tenants above and below his flat. And one of those tenants, at least, is a single woman. Intimidation plus vulnerability equals bullshit control issues to me.

Been thinking, too, of using my words. Watching out for the fist, of course. I know by experience how that can come out of nowhere AND how it feels. But as aforesaid, I know this type of ‘man’ (and I use that term in the lightest possible manner, because he is as FAR from a real man as you can get) and I know he’s weak on words. It’ll get him angrier than ever just by speaking the truth. It’ll also increase the risk of physical violence. But I guess I’m thinking if he attacks me or my bro, that’s it. He’ll go to fucking jail no matter what. He’ll be out of our hair.

Now… That little fantasy about Roberto going to jail carries its own risks, as well. Mostly retaliation from his pack of brats. They’ve all been exposed to his violent temper and screaming and they all show signs of being aggressive and violent as well. The two oldest kids are the biggest risks. The girl already shoved me and the boy took a step towards me with death in his eye.

My personal safety measure updates: Don’t go out unless I have to. Avoid their flat at all costs. Do not go into the lift with them; do not engage them in any manner whatsoever. Carry my house keys as a weapon in my hands, ready to strike, anytime I’m outside my flat. Keep the deadbolt drawn on the door. Be ready to grab my phone and film the next outbreak so Roberto can’t lie anymore. Be ready to call the emergency number for the police.

Honestly, that’s a lot of personal safety measures to implement. But that’s how serious it’s become. We went from a screaming match outside their flat door to Roberto yelling and banging on our front door. I told the cops I was afraid the first time I had to call them because Robert knew now which flat I lived in. This is precisely what I foresaw: the ramping up of his rage towards us. Sadly, my bro is in the firing line with this as well. Roberto thinks men control women, so my bro HAS to be behind all the complaints coming from me. There’s a bit of sexism that’s REALLY hard to take. I’d rather Roberto came straight at me. As I’ve said, I’ve taken beatings before. And I HATE seeing anyone taking a hit for anything I’ve done.

Have already thought about what I’ll pick up from around the flat to use as a weapon when/if Roberto pushes/fights/shoves his way into our home. Two items are top of my list. One: the pestle of our stone grinder. Heavy, made to be used in one hand. Concern: it’s really heavy, and if I hit Roberto’s head too hard I’ll kill him. Two: the long carving knife. It’s really a sword, over 30cm (or a foot) in length. More control with that; I can slice or stab. I know several areas in the human body that’ll hurt and should bring him down without killing him. Problem: it’s a great carving knife, but once I get human blood on it we won’t be able to use it again. Thought about using a shorter blade, but that would mean I’d have to get closer to him to use it which puts me at greater risk.

I don’t consider these thoughts paranoia. I consider them prudent planning. But it sure speaks to my increased daily anxiety and fear.

NL has announced all measures will remain in place ’til the end of April. They’ll reassess again at that time. That means I have another 30 days of Roberto being cooped up with his family downstairs.

Things will get worse before they get better.

As good as it gets

Wake up!

You just lost an hour. Ugh. This is possibly the last year of daylight savings time in NL. Can’t wait; it was a social experiment that resulted in the entire world groaning as one in the spring and partying far too hard in the autumn. Hell. It looks like 9 am to me. No different than yesterday. But sometime in the night (no one quite knows when), an hour was stolen away. Time thieves! Once again, to me it underpins the insanity of what humans term ‘time’. You’ve never really understood it. It can’t be changed or stolen or added to. *eye roll*

Read this morning that the first baby has died from the pandemic. Happened in the US. Maybe now the younger generation will take things seriously. Kill off an older person, and those 20 somethings could care less. ‘They were gonna kick it soon anyway,’ is the usual response. But kill off a child or baby? That’ll get ’em riled. It may even drill their own mortality through those thick heads of theirs. Noticed no one on broadcast news wants to carry that story. The news agencies are trying real hard to take an upbeat tone. More and more stories about cops playing music in the streets or a drive by birthday party for an 11 year old. *sigh* Well, at least it’s a change from the norm these days of coronavirus, death, lock down and panic.

If I fall ill in the next few weeks, it’s due to one woman I passed yesterday on my walk. Yeesh! The entire country may have been locked down, but I had to take several alternate paths to avoid the walkers, bikers, and kids playing in the streets. Headed to a small park a few blocks from the house. Just wanted some fresh air. Then, on this small and narrow path cut through thick grasses, came a family of six on bikes. I had to step into the long grass to get close to the recommended social distance and they took their fucking time pedalling past me. The last in line was the woman, and she looked ill. Very ill. I’d guess a fever and nausea from the look on her face. Held my breath as she passed. Thankfully, she didn’t cough or sneeze near me. Made sure to scrub my hands and face when I got home. But if I get it, she’s the source. 100% positive on that.

Got some much needed cat love, too. Headed back home along the southern side of the street, walking in the sun and enjoying it. On the corner lives a cat. A beautiful, sleek orange tabby. He was out and I called him over. Oh! Once again, my nails are a cat’s dream: long and strong enough to get all those pesky itchy areas around the ears without digging too deep. He bit at me playfully, kneaded the ground in ecstasy, drooled all over my fingers and kept pawing at me to please, please continue! I really enjoy that. As much as the cat does. I just don’t drool all over when I do it. Not yet, anyway.

Odd. Usually, I’m super vigilant about illnesses. I take a step back from people if they tell me they feel even a small bit ‘off’. But these days? Maybe it’s because everyone is so flipped out about stuff, but I’m not afraid. Still being smart and vigilant, but…no fear. Part of me is certain I won’t fall ill. Don’t know why, and maybe it’s all just false security. Glad, tho. I don’t need to add to my paranoia.

And I don’t need to curse myself. Did that yesterday; after writing that yes, I was getting out of the house after my free life was done, I won another 10 hours of free life. That happens to me: open mouth, insert foot, and get my just rewards. The example I gave is, to me, a positive one. I don’t mind winning more free life and whiling away my time watching films and playing. But it works the other way, too.

Day whatever, doing okay. I guess that’s as good as it gets.

It just might do me good

Another day in voluntary isolation.

Popped down to the supermarket last night for another pack of tobacco. Whoa! Three workers were stationed outside the doors, explaining the new measures. No more hand baskets, only carts that are wiped down with disinfectant before every use by one of the workers. Shields are up by every cash register so you can’t even breathe on the people behind the counter. And they’ve got gloves available at the front door. Had to beg off all that, saying ‘I only want tobacco! That’s it!’ No one in the store. Eerily empty.

The ‘news’ is just a joke. 24/7, covid-19. Like nothing else is happening in the world! Yeesh! Only so much paranoid discussion I can take. To be honest, I’m now hearing stories from people who’ve been thru the infection. Does not make me happy. High fever, body aches, naseau… Don’t kid yourself; it can get bad. Guess I’m feeling a bit of the paranoia myself.

Glad, tho, that people here ARE that bit paranoid. More than they need to be, as a matter of fact. It helps. That much is obvious, as NL has pretty much failed to reach any international headline. Why? Well, we got it here and people are dying. But at least in Rotterdam, everyone is taking it seriously. I imagine Amsterdam has more problems. Amsterdam always has more problems. Hoping the yahoos elsewhere in the country don’t ruin it for the rest of us. So far, we’re all in voluntary isolation. Too many idiots breaking that isolation would mean enforcement on the streets. My idea? Keep your stupid people locked down. They’re the problem, after all. Not the Chinese or Italians, not the tourists that came back from hot spots (by now, they’ve all learned to self isolate), not the elderly, but the STUPID PEOPLE. Rather than using a thermometer, they should be using an IQ test. Too dumb? Too bad for you. Into isolation you go, because you’re the people who go out and socialise despite everything. You’re the people who look into the camera and say, ‘I don’t care’. Maybe we shouldn’t care so much about you, then.

Other measures here: NL has made it illegal to evict any tenant during this period for any reason. That’s meant to prevent everyone getting kicked out for not paying rent. While I applaud the measure, it does make me concerned about the people 2 floors down. They’re not exactly quiet during this lock down. Loud music goes on for most of the day. Hoping they don’t take advantage of all this to justify even more noise. Then again, the cops aren’t arresting people for numerous violations right now. I suppose that means I could wreak revenge if the worst happens. I won’t go to jail, and it might not even make my ‘permanent record’. Hm… Kidding, mostly. I won’t cause problems. Even tho I’m very tempted.

Allowing that impulse simply to generate a new story: murder during a lock down. No one reports it because no one knows; the person is in self isolation. Easy peasy. In theory, a murderer could have weeks to clean the site of the crime of all DNA. As long as the initial deed is done quietly, a person could totally get away with it. …Man! I go to dark places! Sometimes I worry about my own state of mind.

A month on since the cast came off and I’m still having problems with my thumb. Minor shit. The numb area is still kind of dead. Pain in the wrist with some movements, pain in my thumb. No one told me how long I should wait for that nerve in my thumb to come back, just that it ‘could take a long time’. No shit. No reason to seek out help right now; it’s definitely not needed. Not even sure I’d let them do anything. Wrists are tricky things and they may end up doing more damage if they try to fix this minor problem. I’ll ask about the risks. Leaving the nerve pinched or whatever the problem is could cause more long term problems than trying to fix it.

My hair has finally reached a length I enjoy. From just above the shoulder to the middle of my back, I find it annoying. Now it’s finally getting longer than the middle of my back and I love it. I love feeling that big, thick braid reaching down my back. I love whipping my head around and having all the hair. Feels very child-like. That’s how long my hair was when I was young. Those tactile memories are strong. So now, despite all the evidence to the contrary, I feel like a kid. It’s actually a good shield against depression.

Gonna head out in the sunshine for some fresh air. Watch tv, play games. Open up my writing and do some work. Trust (something new), because I didn’t call to double check, that my injections are coming tomorrow. The woman on the phone said Friday, and I’m betting that she meant this Friday and not last Friday. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I won’t drop dead from missing a week or two of injections.

In fact, with all that’s going on, it just might do me good.

Exactly the way it should be

More exists in this world than we can see with our pitifully poor eyes or hear with our terrible ears. Human senses are, on the whole, pretty fucking bad in comparison with our animal relatives. That’s a fact: dogs can hear well above our own hearing range, and I don’t think anyone on the planet has yet seen a neutrino or other small particle without the aid of machines.

The rejection of anything beyond what our senses, or even our sensors, can ‘read’ is almost universal. Many want to believe in more, but few have evidence. And so far, no one has evidence so solid it can shut up every doubter on the planet. Our experiences are personal and subjective. We can only relate what happened in a calm manner; getting excited about it is a sure way to be discounted.

Yesterday I was hit with something. Hard. I’ve been hit with ‘ghost pains’ before, but never on this level. I struggled for breath and broke out in a sweat. Worse still, it happened at the dentist’s office.

Yeah, I know all about my dental anxiety. It wasn’t that. I was only in for a cleaning and very chill. In fact, all the dental work I’ve had here has worn away much of my anxiety. The doctors here are great and no one wants to see me in pain.

I no sooner sat in the chair than the pain began: sharp, deep pain just under my solar plexus. The dental hygienist actually stopped to ask if she was hurting me; the sweat stood out heavy on my brow and it was evident I wasn’t comfortable. She gave me a paper towel to wipe the sweat off my face (yes, it was dripping). I brushed it off as trapped gas, though it didn’t feel like trapped gas at all. I never burped or farted. I did cover the area with my left hand, and as soon as I did that, the pain stopped. The oddness of this experience leads me to believe it was more than just physical.

Now… Things we can’t see can attack us anywhere. Never think otherwise. There are, however, a couple of ‘sweet spots’ on the human body. Places where it’s easy and powerful to hook onto us. The solar plexus area is one, and perhaps the best known. However, there’s another area most ignore. It lies directly between your upper shoulder blades, right on your spine, on the lowest part of your neck. THAT’S where I usually feel it. The frontal attack was new for me. Lucky for me, all it took was covering the area with my hand in order to protect myself.

Remembered to tell my bro about it. He said he’s been feeling pains, too. I guess the beginning of the year is bad for both of us. Well…no guessing about it. I heard it. I was told how I make everyone miserable in November when it’s my birthday and that depression lingers ’til spring. ‘You’ve got four or five months when you’re a real bummer to be around.’ Gee. Thanks. I really needed to hear that. Especially since I feel like I work hard during the winter months to stay positive.*sigh* I’m getting off point. I wanted to emphasise that my bro also feels under attack; instead I’m going off on his lectures.

Writing. Been going at it lately. Allowed myself to read a bit of my own work, too. Hesitate to say it’s my writing that’s setting everything off, tho I want to. Perhaps it’s just ‘coincidence’. *snort* Right. Like I believe in coincidence. Said nothing of that to my bro. Would not matter either way. He won’t read what I’ve got and I won’t stop writing.

For some reason, all this has jogged my mind into a different direction. Maybe that was the goal all along. I’ve begun to ditch my normal way of thinking in this story. For the very first time, I asked myself what I wanted. Not what I didn’t want. I’ve had plenty of that: Oh, I know this choice leads to these restrictions; I’ll try the other one this time. Realised I think in a negative fashion: always looking on the downs of a situation rather than the ups. I wrote my main character that way, too. Now I’m going to allow her to ask herself what she wants, not what she doesn’t want.

It will change everything. For both of us.

And, other than these ‘direct attacks’, writing this story has been painless. That’s odd. In almost every writing episode, I have to push a bit. It’s a mental push and a mental pain, difficult to explain. It isn’t happening this time. Maybe that’s because I’m writing it in such little bits (Rick ‘n Morty pun: Little bits!). But again, my inner sense is telling me it’s something different. I am and am not writing this story. I am and am not living this story. The days unravel as I write. So does this sense of…not urgency, but need. I need to make a decision, and the way I decide is in the story.

So, this is it. I’m on high alert for things out of the ordinary. Verging on paranoia. Not undeserved. And all of it goes into the story. It’s weird. Unlike anything I’ve written before. It’s all so…undefined and mysterious. Don’t know that anyone will get it. Guess I’m not writing it for anyone but me.

And maybe that’s exactly the way it should be.

Fly, bitch!

Woke up this morning with one thing clear: I’ve been searching for Bob. That sounds particularly strange considering I’ve been going through Twin Peaks again. But that’s not my Bob. My Bob is an actual person, real and true. Someone I used to know and one of those people who, no matter how much time had passed, could find me after years of silence. No clear memory, just a very strong feeling of looking for Bob in dreams. Different city, different buildings, but I knew he was nearby. Strange.

Depression: Well, it’s internalised and a scab has already grown over my hurt. Ate a good meal, strong on veg, and napped for a couple of hours to tv. Man! Had that I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer exhaustion. Wish I could sleep like that at night! Pulled myself out of it early; I could have just slept all afternoon but I didn’t want to screw myself over even more. Once again, I was alone all morning (my bro had class) and all evening (he had choir). So I had plenty of time to beat myself up and consider just how far I was going to go in my self flagellation. I’ll turn it around, eventually. Start writing again. Start reading again. Start trying again.

But not today.

Today I’m still pouting. That’s what I’m calling it now: pouting. And, since I didn’t blow my stack and cause a scene, I’m allowing myself to pout. It may not be a pretty trait on me, but I feel it’s a definite step up. And if this is the way I quietly get passed my disappointment, well… Like I said: it’s a step up from previous reactions.

Thought a lot about doubling up on my meds. Dr T told me it wasn’t that big a deal if I did take twice the amount here and there because I’m on really low levels. I didn’t, tho. Really wanted to get past this without medication. Don’t want to view this as a fall, just as part of a cycle. I got shot down – hard – and it’s normal to feel sad and disappointed by it. I know no matter what I spout during those times, ie: I’ll never write in Dutch again!, that it’s just me blowing off steam. I’ll get back to it; I promised. This is not a stop; just a pause while I get my head together.

Got an appointment at the dentist’s office. I think it says a lot that I haven’t even thought about THAT lately. It helps to know it’s a check-up, so I shouldn’t walk away with bloody gums or anything. Should be short and easy.

Rain is back for a few days. Yesterday was gorgeous, but I just couldn’t get out. Started on hoovering while my bro was in class. I knew we were gonna do the new blu ray player, so I HAD to get on dust patrol. Upshot? I cleaned for an hour and a half, emptying the hoover 8 times. Eight times!! My bro came in, unboxed the unit, cleaned a 30 cm x 30 cm spot on the shelving unit, plugged it in, and was done. In other words: I did the hard lifting. The house is now clean (Yea!), but little wonder all I could do after that was nap (Boo!). At least I can console myself by the lack of dust bunnies…

Think I could do with a bike ride and exercise, but until the rain clears up, I’m here.

Made mention to my bro that I think we’ve gone thru what we call ‘a shift’. Every once in awhile we notice it. It comes in the form of milk going sour before the due date, or plants suddenly looking like they’re dying of thirst even tho they shouldn’t be. Saw it yesterday in the plants: dried out and really unhealthy looking. Also noticed an orange peel I’d left out on a plate for 24 hours. It was as dried and sucked clean of all moisture as if I’d put it in the oven overnight. This generally signifies some move in reality. Yeah; I know I’m going off into la-la land here. But these are signs I saw before we witnessed the shifting of an entire park in a city; it moved several blocks from our house overnight. I’ve learned – the creepy way – that I shouldn’t ignore this stuff. Wondering what this will bring. I’ve walked into rooms where everyone’s changed, suddenly. It’s weird, to say the least. Really made me paranoid for years and years until I shared my experiences with T and he admitted he’s seen the same thing.

*sigh* And no, I can’t help but feel a bit responsible for it. My anger… Again, I KNOW I’m going off into weird territory here, but I’ve also over 50 years of first hand data. Things change. Not just whomever I’ve directed my anger towards; Goddess help those people! No. Everything changes, everyone changes. Subtly. I swear, I think I shift to a connected reality at times. It’s a real head fuck. Especially since I only seem to be able to do it subconsciously. I can’t do it on command. But release that switch in me, let loose the tiger, and boom! You won’t even remember that you asked me to do it in the first place. You may not even know me.

So, adding it all up, I will not be surprised if some day soon Bob just pops up in front of me. I will not be surprised if I walk into language class next week and everyone has changed. I will not be surprised if, while walking or biking around, I notice something has moved from where I thought it lay. I will not be surprised by anything that’s ‘impossible’, because I know the word ‘impossible’ is a bullshit word. Nothing is impossible. Reality is an e curve, and therefore the probability of anything occurring never goes down to zero.

Fly, bitch!