Did ok on the diet yesterday. Already fucked it up today. I feel like a sponge with cramps.
Think I just need to wait till this period thing is over - and be reasonable in the meantime.
Going to sleep. Working tonight if they don't cancel me.
Still very depressed. But it feels totally chemical. Nothing to be depressed about. Just that gloomy feeling that I am starting to recognize as hormonal and to ignore.
Almost finished the picture. It looks good. Hung it up.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
A Clockwork Orange
".....A creature who can only perform good or evil is "a clockwork orange — meaning that he has the appearance of an organism lovely with color and juice, but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the Devil; or the almighty state."
-Anthony Burgess
I've drawn this picture of Alex from A Clockwork Orange onto about a 2 feet by 3 feet canvas.
Only I did it Andy Warhol style, 4 little pictures, like this:
In our dining room also was a doorway that led to the garage. It used to be a storage room but the previous owner increased the size of the dining room and omitted the storage room. That left a weird doorway in the dining room. The door ended up breaking, and therefore we had a big whole there. So "temporarily" I nailed up a piece of plain drywall. Then I thought, hell, why not draw something on it?
-Anthony Burgess
********************************************************
I've drawn this picture of Alex from A Clockwork Orange onto about a 2 feet by 3 feet canvas.
Only I did it Andy Warhol style, 4 little pictures, like this: I'm not sure what colors I'm going to use, I haven't painted it yet. I'm going to do it in watercolors. I'm going to hang it it my dining room. I think I did a pretty good job. I'll take a picture of it when I am done and post it. Think I'll finish it today.
In our dining room also was a doorway that led to the garage. It used to be a storage room but the previous owner increased the size of the dining room and omitted the storage room. That left a weird doorway in the dining room. The door ended up breaking, and therefore we had a big whole there. So "temporarily" I nailed up a piece of plain drywall. Then I thought, hell, why not draw something on it?
So I drew this there. I'll take a picture of that too.
I think next I will do something from Heavy Metal. Or The Wall. Yeah,....The Wall. Maybe put it in the living room. We'll see.
I want one of those cool naked girl tables from the bar in Clockwork. If only.
I think Moloko Vellocet will go somewhere in the house. Maybe straight onto a wall. No canvas.
Anyone with any ideas of movies I can draw from - I would love to hear from you. I'm gonna fill up my house.
So I posted. And it was just a bunch of mumbling bullshit. So it got erased. Sorry if anyone read it before I deleted it.
Having a bad day. More like a bad year. Need to make alot of changes. So not going to bitch, just going to change.
Got a lot of weight to lose. Getting obsessive about it. Have ballooned up to 182 as of yesterday. Has to change. Won't change if I don't obsess.
181 today. This will change fast. Stacey, it wasn't the actual surgery that made you lose weight, it was how it forced you to consume food, right? Why can't that work for me? If I just eat that way? Going to try it. I've had stomach flu lately, and not quite better, so that should help. One pound down, about 70 to go. I know, I've said that so many times before. I have to this time though.
I have a hungry boa constrictor. Gotta get Lucy some mice. This would be a bad thing if she wasn't just a baby. We probably wouldn't have so many stray cats though.
One of those days, where you just gotta get up, do it, and know things will get better.
Having a bad day. More like a bad year. Need to make alot of changes. So not going to bitch, just going to change.
Got a lot of weight to lose. Getting obsessive about it. Have ballooned up to 182 as of yesterday. Has to change. Won't change if I don't obsess.
181 today. This will change fast. Stacey, it wasn't the actual surgery that made you lose weight, it was how it forced you to consume food, right? Why can't that work for me? If I just eat that way? Going to try it. I've had stomach flu lately, and not quite better, so that should help. One pound down, about 70 to go. I know, I've said that so many times before. I have to this time though.
I have a hungry boa constrictor. Gotta get Lucy some mice. This would be a bad thing if she wasn't just a baby. We probably wouldn't have so many stray cats though.
One of those days, where you just gotta get up, do it, and know things will get better.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Arthur
Part of my problem was I was having a sort of occupational identity crisis. Any of you who are nurses or in healthcare will probably understand this. I was very upset when I found out I wasn't going back to county, I felt like I belonged there. Found myself working registry, a different place every night, and working med/surg. I felt out of my element. Then had one of those nights that make you wonder why the fuck you ever went to nursing school, one of those nights that make you question all of your skills and really throw you. We all have them, I just didn't react very well this time. I was the complete definition of Burn Out. And that horrible feeling of hating your job, but knowing you are stuck doing it for the rest of your life cause I don't know how to do anything else that pays enough to live on. Complete burn out and that trapped feeling.
Very tired of caring for people that didn't care about themselves. If you don't care, why do I? People that have abused their bodies or been stupid their whole lives, then when it stops working are mean and bitter and hateful. People who you have to wake up to give their pain pills to - cause they are in "so much pain." People who have destroyed their bodies, then are angry cause you can't fix it. I had had enough.
Then out of the blue my agency asks me if I like a kind of different assignment. Caring for a little two year old who drowned in the family pool. Well, nearly drowned. In the pool long enough to take his mind, his purposeful control, his personality - but not long enough to spare him a life of vegetative hell. And they told me it was a middle eastern family. I was hesitant, but decided to do it.
I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm going to call him Arthur. Arthur is this beautiful child. This perfect, beautiful child, with only his shell left - he breathes, and his heart beats but thats about it. He is fed through a stomach tube and has no ability to move anything purposefully, to eat, to turn over, to blink, or to even make a sound. He can't see me, or communicate, or enjoy anything. And he will never get any better. Ever. Ever.
He is beautiful. He has my Ryan's eyes. I do all his medical stuff - meds, breathing treatments, caring for him. And I hold him. And talk to him.
I was hired because his other care giver moved away. His mom has a month old baby, a fresh c-section incision, and a very active independent 4 year old. Yeah, my life's not so bad.
Arthur has given me a break. None of this is his fault. He needs so much. And it is so unfair. I've been revitalized a little. He is easy for me to take care of.
I see the pictures of him up on the walls - before the "accident". I see the guilt in his mother's eyes. I see the other children in the house play around him. I hear his dad talk of a miracle doctor they are going to go to. I hear hope in all of their voices. And I am quiet. Because I know too much.
When 9/11 happened. I hated the middle east. Their entire population was not worth even one of our soldiers. My solution was to nuke them. Royce and I had many heated discussions over this. Nuke em. I didn't care if there were women and children. The children are just baby terrorists who will grow up to hate us and try to kill us. Not worth it. Nuke em. Its that easy. Big problem gone. You fuck with us, you deserve it.
She makes me food everyday. Things I've never had before. Its delicious. The other children are beautiful. They sleep like my children, and fight like my children, and play and laugh and live like my children. The husband and wife tease each other and play. The family all takes care of little Arthur. They all have jobs and live in a home I could never afford. They are kind and loving, and beautiful people. And the language is so beautiful.
These are the people I would have nuked. These children. I look into their little eyes and watch them play and sleep - and I am ashamed. I am truly truly ashamed. And humbled.
I have found that hate is the easy way. Its easier to hate than it is to fear, so we hate. Its easier to listen to and swallow whatever the masses bombard you with - its easier to justify your fear with hate - than it is to learn. To walk a mile in someone's shoes. We really are all just people. The problem isn't as simple as I thought it was, and the answer is much less simple than I felt.
I don't hate them anymore.
It also reaffirms how I feel about the christian god. That all loving all powerful being in the sky somewhere. No all powerful god of LOVE would allow anything like this to happen, And if he did ................. I wouldn't want to follow someone like that.
I am walking away from this assignment with so much more than I contributed to it.
Funny how that works, when you let it.
Very tired of caring for people that didn't care about themselves. If you don't care, why do I? People that have abused their bodies or been stupid their whole lives, then when it stops working are mean and bitter and hateful. People who you have to wake up to give their pain pills to - cause they are in "so much pain." People who have destroyed their bodies, then are angry cause you can't fix it. I had had enough.
Then out of the blue my agency asks me if I like a kind of different assignment. Caring for a little two year old who drowned in the family pool. Well, nearly drowned. In the pool long enough to take his mind, his purposeful control, his personality - but not long enough to spare him a life of vegetative hell. And they told me it was a middle eastern family. I was hesitant, but decided to do it.
I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm going to call him Arthur. Arthur is this beautiful child. This perfect, beautiful child, with only his shell left - he breathes, and his heart beats but thats about it. He is fed through a stomach tube and has no ability to move anything purposefully, to eat, to turn over, to blink, or to even make a sound. He can't see me, or communicate, or enjoy anything. And he will never get any better. Ever. Ever.
He is beautiful. He has my Ryan's eyes. I do all his medical stuff - meds, breathing treatments, caring for him. And I hold him. And talk to him.
I was hired because his other care giver moved away. His mom has a month old baby, a fresh c-section incision, and a very active independent 4 year old. Yeah, my life's not so bad.
Arthur has given me a break. None of this is his fault. He needs so much. And it is so unfair. I've been revitalized a little. He is easy for me to take care of.
I see the pictures of him up on the walls - before the "accident". I see the guilt in his mother's eyes. I see the other children in the house play around him. I hear his dad talk of a miracle doctor they are going to go to. I hear hope in all of their voices. And I am quiet. Because I know too much.
When 9/11 happened. I hated the middle east. Their entire population was not worth even one of our soldiers. My solution was to nuke them. Royce and I had many heated discussions over this. Nuke em. I didn't care if there were women and children. The children are just baby terrorists who will grow up to hate us and try to kill us. Not worth it. Nuke em. Its that easy. Big problem gone. You fuck with us, you deserve it.
She makes me food everyday. Things I've never had before. Its delicious. The other children are beautiful. They sleep like my children, and fight like my children, and play and laugh and live like my children. The husband and wife tease each other and play. The family all takes care of little Arthur. They all have jobs and live in a home I could never afford. They are kind and loving, and beautiful people. And the language is so beautiful.
These are the people I would have nuked. These children. I look into their little eyes and watch them play and sleep - and I am ashamed. I am truly truly ashamed. And humbled.
I have found that hate is the easy way. Its easier to hate than it is to fear, so we hate. Its easier to listen to and swallow whatever the masses bombard you with - its easier to justify your fear with hate - than it is to learn. To walk a mile in someone's shoes. We really are all just people. The problem isn't as simple as I thought it was, and the answer is much less simple than I felt.
I don't hate them anymore.
It also reaffirms how I feel about the christian god. That all loving all powerful being in the sky somewhere. No all powerful god of LOVE would allow anything like this to happen, And if he did ................. I wouldn't want to follow someone like that.
I am walking away from this assignment with so much more than I contributed to it.
Funny how that works, when you let it.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Royce ran an errand for me yesterday, while I was sleeping.
He pulled up to 44th Street, on Indian School, going west. He was the first car in the far left lane. He glanced over at the car next to him in the middle lane. Light changed. Completely green. They both go forward, the other guy a little faster. Maybe 2 seconds faster. Maybe one. When they reach the middle of the intersection an Escalade blows the light at about 70, T-bones the other guy, who is just a little further in the intersection than Royce. Royce watches the whole thing happen. Just some guy probably going to lunch. He was killed instantly. Pulled out of the car and put in a bag.
That was less than a second away from being my Royce.
My day could have been so different. My week. My month. My whole life.
My kids lives.
My bills don't seem so overwhelming. My life doesn't seem so bad. My recent arguments and fights and state of mind seem alot stupider. So insignificant. Work doesn't suck so bad tonight. Its better than calling off cause I have to visit the morgue.
Just puts things in perspective.
Love you Roycie.
He bought a lottery ticket yesterday.
He pulled up to 44th Street, on Indian School, going west. He was the first car in the far left lane. He glanced over at the car next to him in the middle lane. Light changed. Completely green. They both go forward, the other guy a little faster. Maybe 2 seconds faster. Maybe one. When they reach the middle of the intersection an Escalade blows the light at about 70, T-bones the other guy, who is just a little further in the intersection than Royce. Royce watches the whole thing happen. Just some guy probably going to lunch. He was killed instantly. Pulled out of the car and put in a bag.
That was less than a second away from being my Royce.
My day could have been so different. My week. My month. My whole life.
My kids lives.
My bills don't seem so overwhelming. My life doesn't seem so bad. My recent arguments and fights and state of mind seem alot stupider. So insignificant. Work doesn't suck so bad tonight. Its better than calling off cause I have to visit the morgue.
Just puts things in perspective.
Love you Roycie.
He bought a lottery ticket yesterday.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
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