Dentists are capable of much destruction. We all know this. Despite the scary instruments, I went to see one today after a 4 year hiatus. Apparently 4 years in dental world is a long fucking time, also teeth are pretty unforgiving. If you stop doing things like flossing, and using expensive mouthwash, they start to just dissolve and make you wish you were born a toothless freak.
My panic set in when I woke up this morning, I felt like a cat trapped in an oven. No way out. I could already smell the pain. After a few unsuccessful attempts at making excuses not to go, I schlepped myself onto the wonder that is public transit and went to meet my maker. I mean dentist.
I always feel an unbelievable amount of shame when I walk into a dental clinic. Like my mouth is filled with dead babies instead of teeth and that somehow this is all my fault and oh God why am I doing this. The hygienist is always the first person to have a look at the atrocity that is my mouth. She asks questions like " how long has it been since you have seen a Dr?" This is always the most shameful part for me. " Um. Like, 3 years maybe, I mean maybe less, probably not though" This always gets looks of disapproval and usually the exact moment where the judgement begins. The hygienist will then open a pack of silver poke-y stab-y instruments and the panic about being stabbed in the mouth completely over rides my fear of being harshly and unfairly judged. I cry silently inside.
After this ordeal subsides it is then time for the Dr. to come in. I always fear this part the most because I know that he is like " WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK" As soon as I open my mouth. Like, teeth are his business and looking at mine obviously makes him feel like I just took a shit inside of his heart because I let my teeth basically decompose and at one point almost kill me. That's another story all together. Anyway, the Dr. beings to call out things that sound like codes to set off a NASA shuttle. " Cr 24, TH 3, XTZ THERMO DEPOST TO THE RIGHT CANINE, RC 28" Pretty much he goes through all of my teeth calling things out. I know that is bad. The Dentist should never start at tooth number 1 and end at tooth 24 shaking his head. Always skipping a few numbers because those teeth are missing. I knew I was done at that point. Still, I tried to be a little optimistic. Maybe it was not as bad as I thought. Wrong was I, so so very wrong.
"We are looking at an estimated cost of $12,000" Trying to remain composed after hearing that I personally had to pay the $12,000 was difficult. I just wanted to say "well, we've done all we could, time to let them go" Dentists won't hear that though, they want to "save" everything.
So this is what my teeth have done to me after a long hard 28 years together. They never could understand the whole " live and let live" concept. No, since I was 5 years old those bad boys were busy starting some shit. Making themselves grow to large, cementing themselves to my gum's even when new teeth were coming in, impacting themselves, fucking re- impactig themselves. I was always told " your mouth it to small." As if this was something I could control. It is not my fault that God decided to make my mouth the same size as chihuahua's with a cleft lip. This meant I never had enough room for my teeth so lots of them had to just be ripped out. I clearly remember lots of dental trips, coming in a smiling happy child, leaving a bloody, slobbering crying mess. It never did get any better as I got older. It just turned from extractions to surgeries, from surgeries to infections, to more surgeries. Teeth do not forget they do not forgive they just turn into gnarled squares of imminent pain and torture. They will never let you rest until you give them what they want. Apparently what mine want is to see my bankrupt and anemic. So far teeth you win.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Skip this if you want to laugh. If you feel like the opposite of laughter than please read on.
Thinking. I had far to much time on my hands this week and lots of it was done. I felt like I had a new strand of Ebola that has went undiscovered, but it turns out it was a Sinusitis that had decided to wreak havoc in my lungs as well. Oh how I love these little surprises. As if my body is a child who craves attention it's not getting so it then decides to act out and I have no choice but to give it it's desired attention. Even if it means going to the dreaded Dr. and filling up on antibiotics and steroids. It got it's attention though, and now seems to have calmed down some.. for now.
Back to this thinking problem though. I love the holidays, but they have such an undertone of sadness for me anymore that I can't quite shake off. I keep having these, sort of flashbacks about my Dad's dying. It's not a thought, or a memory, like something that I am actively choosing to participate in thinking about. It's more of just this sudden rush of way to much emotion for me to handle, and just parts and pieces of him dying, and of his funeral. It makes me visibly shaken. I feel like I can't even catch my breath sometimes. Almost like being smothered in way to many feelings that I have no idea how to even begin feeling, nor do I want to.
Grieving, its broken down into time lines, and steps. It has stages and precipices you are supposed to hit. Grief is supposed to be put neatly into a box. The same for everyone. Widows should take precisely two years to overcome their heartbreak, children 1-2 years, etc. What the "experts" on grieving do not tell you is how you are supposed to reach these goals. They all say, as so many people do that " time heals" and " just give it time it gets better" but I find the more time that passes, the more difficult it becomes. The whole " acceptance" part is when your grieving is supposed to stop. I don't believe that to be true. I have for all intensive purposes " accepted " that my dad has died but it still does not deter me from thinking about the so many " if only's and "what if's" that stew in the back of my brain. I am unable to turn them off, I can't help but feel like I am going to feel the loss of him everytime something good happens, something bad happens.
I was never much a fan of God, so I can't find comfort in the thought that he is in Heaven, or that I will see him again or any of those cliche things people tell you to comfort you, and themselves. I can't help but dwell on the fact that he will not be there when I or my sister get married, when my sister graduates from College this year, when I have a baby, I did not get to tell him about the new job I got, or what I ate for dinner last night. He never got to see me move out on my own or my new house.And those are things that I just can't seem to let go of.
We had a tumultous relationship but I loved him, and he loved me,. After he died I felt so completely vulnerable to everything. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't turn out lights anymore. I was 28 and became afraid of the dark ( still am 28 and still am afraid of the dark.) I never realized how protected I felt with him around, how I felt like he was indestructable and that made me feel a little less..destructable I guess. It also left me with this sinking feeling of responsibility. Before he died he told me over and over to" take care of your mother." I feel like I sort of suck at that, because I don't really know what to do for her. I try but, I'm not sure if it's enough sometimes. She breaks my heart sometimes just by seeing how broken her own heart is.
So, I don't know if I am over the "first year hurdle' yet. It's been 1 year and 5 months. I can't believe it. It still seems like it happened just yesterday some days. I still cry when I talk about him, I still can't look at pictures of him for too long. It just feels like I'm nursing a wound that will never quite heal right. Basically, I feel like I grieved wrong. Or am grieving wrong, sometimes I wonder if I grieved at all I don't know really what it's supposed to feel like. I worry constantly about losing my Mom, and my sister. I tried to put it out of my mind that the people I love so much are actually mortal and so not have some secret long life elixer. I wish they did, and losing my Dad made that all the more real to me.
While I do not like to think about this to often. I can't help it. When I see things I want to buy him for Christmas, when I hear jokes I know he would like... it hurts still. I don't think after another 6 months goes by and I hit the 2 year mark in this whole grieving process that it's going to feel any different really. So much for time lines I guess. I was never very good with deadlines anyway.
It's nice to just pretend he is on an extended vacation, somewhere he always wanted to. Reality, is way overrated to me. I hope in a few more years that I can talk about him without feeling my chest tighten up. Everyone says "it gets easier" that "it's still to new for me" but when is it ever easy losing anyone, anything? Losing is hard to accept, and it's impossible to understand the one question that keeps arising. "Why?" I guess there is no answer really, other than the "all things happen for a reason" which in my opinion simplifies things way to much, like Einstein said; " Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler." I completely agree.
It feels a little less complicated getting this out on proverbial paper though.
Back to this thinking problem though. I love the holidays, but they have such an undertone of sadness for me anymore that I can't quite shake off. I keep having these, sort of flashbacks about my Dad's dying. It's not a thought, or a memory, like something that I am actively choosing to participate in thinking about. It's more of just this sudden rush of way to much emotion for me to handle, and just parts and pieces of him dying, and of his funeral. It makes me visibly shaken. I feel like I can't even catch my breath sometimes. Almost like being smothered in way to many feelings that I have no idea how to even begin feeling, nor do I want to.
Grieving, its broken down into time lines, and steps. It has stages and precipices you are supposed to hit. Grief is supposed to be put neatly into a box. The same for everyone. Widows should take precisely two years to overcome their heartbreak, children 1-2 years, etc. What the "experts" on grieving do not tell you is how you are supposed to reach these goals. They all say, as so many people do that " time heals" and " just give it time it gets better" but I find the more time that passes, the more difficult it becomes. The whole " acceptance" part is when your grieving is supposed to stop. I don't believe that to be true. I have for all intensive purposes " accepted " that my dad has died but it still does not deter me from thinking about the so many " if only's and "what if's" that stew in the back of my brain. I am unable to turn them off, I can't help but feel like I am going to feel the loss of him everytime something good happens, something bad happens.
I was never much a fan of God, so I can't find comfort in the thought that he is in Heaven, or that I will see him again or any of those cliche things people tell you to comfort you, and themselves. I can't help but dwell on the fact that he will not be there when I or my sister get married, when my sister graduates from College this year, when I have a baby, I did not get to tell him about the new job I got, or what I ate for dinner last night. He never got to see me move out on my own or my new house.And those are things that I just can't seem to let go of.
We had a tumultous relationship but I loved him, and he loved me,. After he died I felt so completely vulnerable to everything. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't turn out lights anymore. I was 28 and became afraid of the dark ( still am 28 and still am afraid of the dark.) I never realized how protected I felt with him around, how I felt like he was indestructable and that made me feel a little less..destructable I guess. It also left me with this sinking feeling of responsibility. Before he died he told me over and over to" take care of your mother." I feel like I sort of suck at that, because I don't really know what to do for her. I try but, I'm not sure if it's enough sometimes. She breaks my heart sometimes just by seeing how broken her own heart is.
So, I don't know if I am over the "first year hurdle' yet. It's been 1 year and 5 months. I can't believe it. It still seems like it happened just yesterday some days. I still cry when I talk about him, I still can't look at pictures of him for too long. It just feels like I'm nursing a wound that will never quite heal right. Basically, I feel like I grieved wrong. Or am grieving wrong, sometimes I wonder if I grieved at all I don't know really what it's supposed to feel like. I worry constantly about losing my Mom, and my sister. I tried to put it out of my mind that the people I love so much are actually mortal and so not have some secret long life elixer. I wish they did, and losing my Dad made that all the more real to me.
While I do not like to think about this to often. I can't help it. When I see things I want to buy him for Christmas, when I hear jokes I know he would like... it hurts still. I don't think after another 6 months goes by and I hit the 2 year mark in this whole grieving process that it's going to feel any different really. So much for time lines I guess. I was never very good with deadlines anyway.
It's nice to just pretend he is on an extended vacation, somewhere he always wanted to. Reality, is way overrated to me. I hope in a few more years that I can talk about him without feeling my chest tighten up. Everyone says "it gets easier" that "it's still to new for me" but when is it ever easy losing anyone, anything? Losing is hard to accept, and it's impossible to understand the one question that keeps arising. "Why?" I guess there is no answer really, other than the "all things happen for a reason" which in my opinion simplifies things way to much, like Einstein said; " Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler." I completely agree.
It feels a little less complicated getting this out on proverbial paper though.
Friday, November 19, 2010
I know what it sounds like when a Grizzly Bear murders a Unicorn.
Broken turtle tank filters are unreasonably loud. I feel like a grizzly bear is in the other room and it is murdering a unicorn... Loudly. Ay Dios Mio! My hearing is pretty sub par, so I can imagine what this sounds like to the normal human ear. Probably like cars crashing into Veliceraptors that are attacking wild boars that are covered in steel. Horrible.
Since I have to listen to the sounds of grizzly bears and unicorns murdering each other, I am drinking to numb the pain. Nothing that a little Vodka can't right. Seriously, nothing it is even good for sterilization purposes. Plus the living room is about as warm as a cold naked night in Siberia. So, alcohol help to insulate my insides and raise my body temperature back to at least 94 degrees. Bottoms up.
Also everyone toady was all " wow you look like you just died and came back then died again" " Holy crap is that your face! I mean, sorry feel better" ' Fuck get it away get it away." This was slightly alarming seeing as usually people are like " you are so prettifull and it hurts my eyes in a good way" and " It looks like Jesus hugged you out of your mothers room". So to hear that I am looking kinda fug today, something is wrong. And I will drink so that I don't have to notice that I've apparently become uglier over night.
Maybe tomorrow I will be a little less disfigured looking and can go out into the real world and socialize with others. I am in no mood to be judged upon my physical appearance today. But that's kind of to bad because, I was judged earlier. Damn.
Since I have to listen to the sounds of grizzly bears and unicorns murdering each other, I am drinking to numb the pain. Nothing that a little Vodka can't right. Seriously, nothing it is even good for sterilization purposes. Plus the living room is about as warm as a cold naked night in Siberia. So, alcohol help to insulate my insides and raise my body temperature back to at least 94 degrees. Bottoms up.
Also everyone toady was all " wow you look like you just died and came back then died again" " Holy crap is that your face! I mean, sorry feel better" ' Fuck get it away get it away." This was slightly alarming seeing as usually people are like " you are so prettifull and it hurts my eyes in a good way" and " It looks like Jesus hugged you out of your mothers room". So to hear that I am looking kinda fug today, something is wrong. And I will drink so that I don't have to notice that I've apparently become uglier over night.
Maybe tomorrow I will be a little less disfigured looking and can go out into the real world and socialize with others. I am in no mood to be judged upon my physical appearance today. But that's kind of to bad because, I was judged earlier. Damn.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Credit and how it mocks me.
I found out today that Macy's closed out my credit card. The whole event was rather unceremonious, considering how distraught I am over it. I only forgot to may the bill, what, 3 times. I mean, it's not that serious really. I remembered to pay the bill today. Is that not what counts? Today? I am trying to come to terms with why they would just close out my account without ever alerting me to this violent disruption of my credit usage? Having a credit card made me feel like a real person, like I mattered. Now I just feel like a paper cut out person with no eyes and a big drawn on X for a mouth. Why did they do this to me?
I feel a human jello jiggler. All wiggly, and sad because who the fuck wants a jello jiggler Not Macy's , thats for sure. So, I contact a representative online and I inquire as to why my account has been closed. She never really gave me an answer but said if I call this 800 number, after I pay the bill they might be gracious enough to re open my account. Or they could taunt me and just take my money and set my card on fire and tell me what a bad creditless person I am. No one will ever love me, my mother will shun me, stray dogs will bite me for my insolence.What a horrid shamefull existence I will lead.
I feel a human jello jiggler. All wiggly, and sad because who the fuck wants a jello jiggler Not Macy's , thats for sure. So, I contact a representative online and I inquire as to why my account has been closed. She never really gave me an answer but said if I call this 800 number, after I pay the bill they might be gracious enough to re open my account. Or they could taunt me and just take my money and set my card on fire and tell me what a bad creditless person I am. No one will ever love me, my mother will shun me, stray dogs will bite me for my insolence.What a horrid shamefull existence I will lead.
Relationships and how they are definitely not like a Hippo fighting a Pirate. But sometimes they are.
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about dating... Who I dated, why I dated, what kind of psychosis was I under to date some of these people... I promise this post will make you feel better about yourself.
Now, let me take you back to a time when I thought I was in love, and everything smelled like ness cafe and hope. It was a grand time and the whole world felt right. Except for that it wasn't, and that ness cafe smell was really the scent of my dreams and soul being shoved into a garbage disposal and then doused in lye and draino. It hurt. A lot. My dream guy ( or so I thought) was tall, dark, and handsome, so obviously something had to be wrong, right? He was a republican, Catholic, and had a slight speech impetiment. It was as if one of the many God's people speak of, came down and hand crafted him just to my specifications. At first things were perfect. Every day was like walking though fields of flowers and having angels gently glide their wings over my face. Then one day the angels died and all the flowers turned into pieces of dried up dog shit and my tall, dark, handsome man turned out to be a sexual deviant with homosexual tendencies.
Threesomes, foursomes, 36somes, he wanted it all and more. He wanted to fuck bus loads of people .I did not know what to do. Why was this happening? I could not grow 36 vaginas for him, even if I had wanted to. Tall, dark, and handsome went on wild sex rampages, like a hippo in a watering hole. He trampled everything that I had ever known about love, and trust, and my idea of what "crazy" sex. I was no match for him, and he knew it. Tall, dark, and crazy he became. He wanted dicks, and lots of them. I would never have a dick and definitely would not have lots of them, so needless to say this took me out of the running for his future wife/husband.
One day, tall, dark, crazy said to me after we made dinner, that he no longer wanted to date me because I could not drive a car. I was as puzzled hearing this as you probably are reading it. I said " I can change, I can learn how to drive." He said " no, no you can't and you did not like to go to the Dr's when you were 5 years old because you thought Dr's were scary." Yes I did hate Dr's and I still do, because they do scary shit like inject you with attenuated virus's and say things like " this might hurt a little", and then it hurts a lot. I did not realize though, that being afraid of the Dr. was grounds for dismissal. That it made me less than human and undesierable by even a crazy person. I tried to understand this, I could not. I was also faulted on being depressed because my Dad had just died, apparenlty I was supposed to have a more robotic reaction and shed no tears. Everything about me was wrong, but yet.... I sensed something was not quite right with these allegations.
Here I am, a forgiving person, taking tall, dark,and crazy back after he has a suckathon on more than one occassion putting me at risk for all sorts of lovely std's. I forgave this albeit being horrified by it, but because I did not know how to drive and did not welcome surgery and lumbar punctures... there was something wrong... with me? We went bowling that night after he told me I was a horrible unlovable person. I paid, as I did for everything ( this was another one of my many flaws) because he has no job and then I never saw him again. I guess thats how the gays do it, you break up after a night out on the town. or in this case a bowling alley in New Jersey.
There is a lot I can say about this experience but mostly it comes down to simply "live and learn." And, I learned that when the guy your dating tells you he wants to try anal.... with a guy. It's time to dash those dreams of becoming a Mrs. Tall, Dark, and Crazy.
Basically this is what has been encompassing my brain the past week or so. Wondering why people do things, and why they say words, and what those words mean, and how can I make people stop saying words I don't like. If a hippo and a pirate got into a fight who would win? Then I went back to thinking about why would I date a guy who I clearly could tell was in love with himself ( and other guys), not me.Why do I have to have such gut wrenching insecurities about why someone would possibly like me, Why about a lot of stuff I guess. why why why. why. And the answer I came to was, dunno. People just do weird things,
I guess you either choose to be stuck in the past or you choose to move forward. My coordination is to bad to walk backward. Anyway, my head feels a little less jumbly now. Apologies though if I made your brain all soupy with this long ass diatribe about relationships and deer pee.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
A course in disaster preparedness: How to die with dignity.
Disaster Preparedness. That is what my day today revolved around. Red Cross came and gave my department a course in how to prepare for a disaster. This is not the kind of thing someone as paranoid and overly alert like me needed to attend.
Floods. This was our first order of attention. What do you do when there is flooding? Run like hell, climb up on high stuff, get in a boat made out of wood and scotch tape, what! what! I don't know!. Answer: You prepare for the flood before it happens. Oh.Now that is how you mother fucking do it.*fist pump*
I was unaware until today that Pennsylvania is the number one state for flooding issues. This alarmed me, because I have no idea what to do in case of a flood emergency other than try not to get wet. I disregard all of the warnings and watches on the news about potential flooding. Mostly because I disregard moss things that make me uncomfortable and that I can do nothing about. Flood preparedness seemed like an impossible task and something that would never happen to me. I know better now.
The first thing you should do to prepare for an imminent watery disaster is to have a kit ready. Your kit can consist of anything you want. Granola bars, cans of creamed corn, band-aids, marbles, the first season of Gilmore Girls. Whatever you feel like will get you safely through the flood. After you have assembled your kit you must next discuss a plan of action with your family members. If you do not have family members than disregard this step. If you do happen to have more than just yourself to look out for than you need to get everyone together for a group huddle. Talk about what do if the matriarch or patriarch of the family dies. Which one of the children will become the absolute leader? Everyone knows a group must have a leader with absolute power. Once this is established you must then appoint either another child, or family pet to be second in command. After these vital steps are completed you can move onto step three successfully.
Building a boat. What could be more important than making your own boat to row yourself to safety? Nothing, tha'ts what. Hammer some pieces of wood together, along with some plastic bags and pieces of furniture. tape up any holes, and voila! you have your boat. If you do not have room in your kit to store the hammer or any other kinds of tool, don't worry about it just toss them in the trash. DVD's and candy are much more important. After all, you cant eat a hammer. You must next pick a designated place to hide from the flood. Higher ground is a good idea. Make someone who is stronger than you pull your boat up a hill. Once you have achieved high ground status get into your boat and wait out the flood. It does not matter if where you are is flooded or not, so long as you are in the boat. This is all about being prepared. Most importantly, make sure to keep your kit dry, no one wants to eat soggy granola. Consider yourself a survivor. Good job.
Our next opponent up to battle is Fire:
Flooding is the pussy of disasters compared to fire. Fire will burn you, and burning hurts. So basically fire will hurt you. Be careful. There is no kit that will save you from a fire, because fire has the ability to burn up your kit. It also has no regard for humans or animals, or electronics. You should be visibly scared at this point because pretty much, fire has no soul and no conscience. It will torch a baby and not care. Your favorite pair of jeans. Torched. Your new stainless steel kitchen appliances. Torched. It mocks your attempts at safety. It blocks all exits out of your home and wants to seal you in what is now a smoky cavern of death and dishonor. Fire does not care. There is nothing you can do to protect yourself against it except install a few little baby smoke alarms. Maybe, not putting cigarettes out on the rug, and also turning off the stove also can count as prevention methods. Other than that, you are at fires mercy. May I suggest sleeping with one eye open. Maybe both eyes open. That way you can get a head start if you see or hear fire coming. In that case you have three seconds to jump out of a window or run in circles screaming " why me, why" Either way, the choice to survive is in your hands. Fire will probably win though so don't knock yourself to hard if you die.
Blizzards:
If you live on the east coast then you know that blizzards pose a constant threat to your survival from December to April. A blizzard starts off innocently, even pretty. Everyone loves snow flakes. Everyone does not love however, snow flakes accompanied by gale force wind that scratch the skin off of your face like a love starved Freddy Kreuger. As the blizzard gathers force it starts to turn what was beautiful, angel scented snow flakes into stellar plated ninja stars shredding your skin and blinding you if you one of those weaklings who succumbed to your lazy ass eyes and started wearing glasses.
This is a storm that could give a shit about ruining your weekend plans to go to pizza hut, or if you'r pregnant and going to give birth at any minute so you need to make sure the road you take to the hospital that is 25 miles away is clear because your baby is probably breached and you can't do a home delivery. Blizzards are actually opportunists and wait for these moments specifically before they let loose their white wintry bowels all over everything in their path. I have never witnessed any natural disaster with such disregard for peoples well being. This bitch just lets loose. After covering your steps, and front yard, and compact car in 40 inches of snow, you have to go shovel it out. It just keeps saying "fuck you." Shoveling can cause cardiac arrest if you are unhealthy and generally spend 17 out of the 24 hours we have in a day in a sitting position, this is most Americans, so beware. It's like the snow is trying to make up for the fact that it looks so non threatening and it has to give itself at least 1 bad ass property. There is nothing you can really do to prepare for a blizzard. You can try to go to the super market to buy some extra food so you do not have to resort to canibalisim while trapped in your house for 3 days. You need really superior survival instincts and a low moral fiber. You will have to fight your way through the market like a Ninja on PCP, stealing frozen turkey's and loaves of bread. TONS of loaves of bread, and milk, so much milk. Because, all you will crave when stuck in your house for 3-4 days is DAIRY! Make sure you get out your war paints so if you do attempt to go to the food store everyone there will know what clan you are from. Families have mistaken each other for members of a different clan and stabbed them to death with safety scissors for trying to "steal" food from their carts. God Speed to you you undertake this endeavor.
Disasters are unavoidable. I think that trying to prepare for them is bullshit. You can't prepare for mother fucking nature. She wont let you. Her whole shtick revolves around the element of surprise. Because with this, she can scare the shit out of you leaving you helpless, possibly naked, and alone with no candy. I will be in the nearest corner shuddering in fear from now on. Unprepared, and constantly worried.
Floods. This was our first order of attention. What do you do when there is flooding? Run like hell, climb up on high stuff, get in a boat made out of wood and scotch tape, what! what! I don't know!. Answer: You prepare for the flood before it happens. Oh.Now that is how you mother fucking do it.*fist pump*
I was unaware until today that Pennsylvania is the number one state for flooding issues. This alarmed me, because I have no idea what to do in case of a flood emergency other than try not to get wet. I disregard all of the warnings and watches on the news about potential flooding. Mostly because I disregard moss things that make me uncomfortable and that I can do nothing about. Flood preparedness seemed like an impossible task and something that would never happen to me. I know better now.
The first thing you should do to prepare for an imminent watery disaster is to have a kit ready. Your kit can consist of anything you want. Granola bars, cans of creamed corn, band-aids, marbles, the first season of Gilmore Girls. Whatever you feel like will get you safely through the flood. After you have assembled your kit you must next discuss a plan of action with your family members. If you do not have family members than disregard this step. If you do happen to have more than just yourself to look out for than you need to get everyone together for a group huddle. Talk about what do if the matriarch or patriarch of the family dies. Which one of the children will become the absolute leader? Everyone knows a group must have a leader with absolute power. Once this is established you must then appoint either another child, or family pet to be second in command. After these vital steps are completed you can move onto step three successfully.
Building a boat. What could be more important than making your own boat to row yourself to safety? Nothing, tha'ts what. Hammer some pieces of wood together, along with some plastic bags and pieces of furniture. tape up any holes, and voila! you have your boat. If you do not have room in your kit to store the hammer or any other kinds of tool, don't worry about it just toss them in the trash. DVD's and candy are much more important. After all, you cant eat a hammer. You must next pick a designated place to hide from the flood. Higher ground is a good idea. Make someone who is stronger than you pull your boat up a hill. Once you have achieved high ground status get into your boat and wait out the flood. It does not matter if where you are is flooded or not, so long as you are in the boat. This is all about being prepared. Most importantly, make sure to keep your kit dry, no one wants to eat soggy granola. Consider yourself a survivor. Good job.
Our next opponent up to battle is Fire:
Flooding is the pussy of disasters compared to fire. Fire will burn you, and burning hurts. So basically fire will hurt you. Be careful. There is no kit that will save you from a fire, because fire has the ability to burn up your kit. It also has no regard for humans or animals, or electronics. You should be visibly scared at this point because pretty much, fire has no soul and no conscience. It will torch a baby and not care. Your favorite pair of jeans. Torched. Your new stainless steel kitchen appliances. Torched. It mocks your attempts at safety. It blocks all exits out of your home and wants to seal you in what is now a smoky cavern of death and dishonor. Fire does not care. There is nothing you can do to protect yourself against it except install a few little baby smoke alarms. Maybe, not putting cigarettes out on the rug, and also turning off the stove also can count as prevention methods. Other than that, you are at fires mercy. May I suggest sleeping with one eye open. Maybe both eyes open. That way you can get a head start if you see or hear fire coming. In that case you have three seconds to jump out of a window or run in circles screaming " why me, why" Either way, the choice to survive is in your hands. Fire will probably win though so don't knock yourself to hard if you die.
Blizzards:
If you live on the east coast then you know that blizzards pose a constant threat to your survival from December to April. A blizzard starts off innocently, even pretty. Everyone loves snow flakes. Everyone does not love however, snow flakes accompanied by gale force wind that scratch the skin off of your face like a love starved Freddy Kreuger. As the blizzard gathers force it starts to turn what was beautiful, angel scented snow flakes into stellar plated ninja stars shredding your skin and blinding you if you one of those weaklings who succumbed to your lazy ass eyes and started wearing glasses.
This is a storm that could give a shit about ruining your weekend plans to go to pizza hut, or if you'r pregnant and going to give birth at any minute so you need to make sure the road you take to the hospital that is 25 miles away is clear because your baby is probably breached and you can't do a home delivery. Blizzards are actually opportunists and wait for these moments specifically before they let loose their white wintry bowels all over everything in their path. I have never witnessed any natural disaster with such disregard for peoples well being. This bitch just lets loose. After covering your steps, and front yard, and compact car in 40 inches of snow, you have to go shovel it out. It just keeps saying "fuck you." Shoveling can cause cardiac arrest if you are unhealthy and generally spend 17 out of the 24 hours we have in a day in a sitting position, this is most Americans, so beware. It's like the snow is trying to make up for the fact that it looks so non threatening and it has to give itself at least 1 bad ass property. There is nothing you can really do to prepare for a blizzard. You can try to go to the super market to buy some extra food so you do not have to resort to canibalisim while trapped in your house for 3 days. You need really superior survival instincts and a low moral fiber. You will have to fight your way through the market like a Ninja on PCP, stealing frozen turkey's and loaves of bread. TONS of loaves of bread, and milk, so much milk. Because, all you will crave when stuck in your house for 3-4 days is DAIRY! Make sure you get out your war paints so if you do attempt to go to the food store everyone there will know what clan you are from. Families have mistaken each other for members of a different clan and stabbed them to death with safety scissors for trying to "steal" food from their carts. God Speed to you you undertake this endeavor.
Disasters are unavoidable. I think that trying to prepare for them is bullshit. You can't prepare for mother fucking nature. She wont let you. Her whole shtick revolves around the element of surprise. Because with this, she can scare the shit out of you leaving you helpless, possibly naked, and alone with no candy. I will be in the nearest corner shuddering in fear from now on. Unprepared, and constantly worried.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Top 5 things I am afraid of that number 1 thing being EVERYTHING.
I really hate hearing sounds.Especially when I am alone. This morning there was a thump-y sound coming from the front room. It sounded like a psychotic animal getting ready to break down my walls and scream " OH YEAH" like the Kool-Aid man, but instead of the "heres a nice refreshing beverage for you, please excuse the pieces of plaster...really tends to be unavoidable when you burst through walls kind of oh yeah. It would be " OH YEAH! TIME FOR ME TO FEAST ON THE BLOOD OF NON VIRGINS AND PEOPLE WITH PERIODONTAL ISSUES HATS OFF MOTHER FUCKERS! " Shit, thats got me written all over it.
It only takes one small out of the ordinary sound for my mind to go on the fritz and make my imagination center start working over time.It starts pumping out scenario after scenario of sadistic ways that evil things will kill me. I really have a problem with stuff I can't see. Like spirits, and ghosts, and demons. My dad informed that it was possible for anyone to become possessed. This did not help that he said this to me while we were watching the Excorcist. From that moment on I was so serious about never summoning demons or dabs, or captain Howdy,or evil dolls that kill you in your sleep, dead celebrities, dead anyone, talking to much about dead people to the point in which they think you are trying to summon them so they just appear and start torturing you because they think thats what you want. I really try hard not to ever do any of that. Except this one time last summer after my Dad passed away. I was like" well maybe I can like contact him via some sort of spirit passage way". Even though he was like " NEVER CONTACT ME VIA SPIRIT PASSAGE WAYS COURTNEY". I have pretty terrible listening skills though.
I read up on contacting the dead online.There, I saw something that said you could think you were contacting a loved one but really it was a spirit who was a good faker and would be pretending to be my dad. I would be lulled into a false sense of security and be all " Hey Dad, how are things, I miss you tons, sometimes I sleep with my shirt up and my belly buttons exposed because I get bored, is this weird?" Meanwhile the spirit/demon is gathering information on you and just waiting for the right time when you are at your most vulnerable. Since spirits enter you via the navel, it just learned valuable information and is waiting for me to go night night. Then when I am good and comfortable, it burrows through my navel like a demonic bullweval wreaking havoc and creating a general environment of chaos. Not Good.
I read up on contacting the dead online.There, I saw something that said you could think you were contacting a loved one but really it was a spirit who was a good faker and would be pretending to be my dad. I would be lulled into a false sense of security and be all " Hey Dad, how are things, I miss you tons, sometimes I sleep with my shirt up and my belly buttons exposed because I get bored, is this weird?" Meanwhile the spirit/demon is gathering information on you and just waiting for the right time when you are at your most vulnerable. Since spirits enter you via the navel, it just learned valuable information and is waiting for me to go night night. Then when I am good and comfortable, it burrows through my navel like a demonic bullweval wreaking havoc and creating a general environment of chaos. Not Good.
This really has been an issue for me since childhood. I was always very afraid of the things I could not see and I was really afraid of the Devil. It did not help that I went to Catholic School where they just loved to talk about how bad and scary the devil was and how if you did't eat all of your vegetables or if you took off your socks and threw them behind the couch instead of in the hamper he would steal your soul and throw you into a river full of boiling lava. He would also chase you with pitch forks for fun and maim puppies in front of you to make you cry. I wanted no parts of this at all. Everyone always commented on how good I was when I was little. It was not because I liked being "good" it was because I was afraid if I did anything wrong I would be sent to hell. Theres motivation for you.
So, pretty much I was haunted by Devil'sh imagery as I'm sure you were already saying to yourself. " Oh I bet she is haunted by devilish images constantly". Well, you are right I was/ am. For many years I had to sleep with ALL the lights on. I am talking, television, radio, night light, ceiling fan light, book light. I was seriously not fucking around with the dark. If I tried to be brave and turn out the lights, I would then see shadows of claws and "666" on my wall. That meant the Devil was in my room and he was coming for me and I was going to die and this was it here he comes. I never got much sleep. Vigilance is a constant. If I had a scratch on me that I failed to notice right away, I would assume them devil was scratching me in my sleep. I am very serious I thought he was scratching me. In my sleep. Yeah, I probably should have been in therapy at an early age. So this was my life, sleeping in a room bathed in un-natural light, scanning for demons, and wearing long sleeved pajamas in the summer to protect myself from devil scratches. Yep, just your normal average child.
It worsened rather than just being some silly " oh remember your Lucifer is scratching me phase". "So glad you are over that". Fraid not Mom. I constantly thought there were demon-y devil- y things everywhere. I seriously fucking believed this. My parents did nothing to dissuade this thinking either. My mom would come in my room when I was at school and write things in the dust on my mirror. One day she wrote " I see you". It was subtle, and it must have taken me a few days to notice it but when I did I flipped my shit. I read it a few times, I though, no this cant be happening. He cant be trying to communicate through my mirror? " Is this really real? " I was stunned and horrified I ran screaming to my parents " MOMDAD THE DEVIL IS WRITING THINGS TO ME OH MY GOD WHY IS THIS HAPPENING, AM I GOING TO BE SET ON FIRE?" My parents found this to be hilarious, and even when my Mom explained to me that this was not really the Devil that it was just her being all evil and funny. I still did not believe them. I figured the Devil had now possessed my Mom and was just trying to trick me into thinking I was safe. There was no where to turn.
I started locking my bedroom door which really displeased my parental units. My Mom was all " Jesus Christ, no, don't do that, what if there is a fire and you need to get out and no one can get to you because the door is locked , Courtney, listen to me, LISTEN no more locking the door" My retort " OH MY GOD MOM, SERIOUSLY? ARE YOU REALLY ASKING ME TO LEAVE THE DOOR UNLOCKED SO THAT I CAN BE POSSESSED! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME, DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF I DON'T LOCK THE DOOR... DAMNATION MOTHER. THATS WHAT WILL HAPPEN AND I WILL BE SCRATCHED UP IN MY SLEEP BY A WILD DEMON DEVIL CAT. THANKS A LOT I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME."
My mom thought I was out of my mind mostly. Really I was just overly anxious and scared a lot form being bought up in a chaotic unstable environment. ( I later found this out in therapy) so, really this was almost sort of normal. almost. As I got older,I moved onto being afraid of more sophisticated things like Serial Killers. Yep, I went balls out on this fear. I had my little OCD self running around the house like an ADD meth addict checking doors, and locking them, then unlocking , then locking again just to make sure the lock worked. Then if I was not satisfied I would have my Mom lock the door from the inside while I went outside to see if I could get in.. I never could, and my Mom was like " why was I blessed witch such a retarded child" then after checking the windows, and back door one more time. I went to bed.
It did not stop there though, I completely disregarded my Mom's orders not to shut and lock my door. I barricaded myself in my room. My thoughts were, the more things I had against my door the less likely a serial killer would be able to get into my room and rip out my organs with a grappling hook. Made sense to me. I locked it, and I would push blankets in front of it, towels, my night stand sometimes my dresser. Whatever I could move with out making to much noise as to alert my parents that I was doing something weird. This sort of helped calm me down but not really. I tried to talk my Dad into sleeping on the couch a lot, that way he could hear if anyone or anything was trying to get in. Sometimes this worked, but mostly he slept in his bed like a normal person. I would finally pass out and then it would happen. I would wake up at 3 am and have to pee. I tried so hard not to have to but I had not yet reached the stage where I found it acceptable to urinate in my bed because it was safer than braving the hallway and going to the bathroom. I was close though. I would first crawl to the end of the bed, put my ear to the door and listen. I did this for a few minutes because I am sure Serial Killers are to smart to be loud, so I had to be extra vigilant on this part. Then I would use one eye to peer out of the crack of my door jam and try to see if anything was out there. It did not look like it, but it was dark, so I could never be 100% about this. I waited until I was almost peeing my pants then I slowly opened my door and crept down the hallway then made a mad dash for the bathroom.
Once I got to the bathroom safely, I had to repeat the process. I listened, I tried to see if anything was coming, I sometimes passed out on the bathroom floor from listening for to long. Made yet another mad dash to my bedroom which would have to be re searched for potential life ending things. If it looked safe, I could then go back to sleep. If it did not look safe I would run back down the hallway of doom into my parents room and sleep on their floor. Better to die as a group then all alone. This goes on even now. Except my hallway is a lot smaller and I no longer live at home.I can't really run I just sort of fall into the bathroom really quickly. There is no lock on the bathroom door so if I ever hear anything unusual I hold onto the doorknob really tightly just in case anything should try to come in and attack me. Good to know I gained some sense of reality as I've grown older.
Yep pretty much, it's really exciting living in a state of constant and total fear. Almost like a fun house, except not fun, so sorry that was a bad analogy.
I started locking my bedroom door which really displeased my parental units. My Mom was all " Jesus Christ, no, don't do that, what if there is a fire and you need to get out and no one can get to you because the door is locked , Courtney, listen to me, LISTEN no more locking the door" My retort " OH MY GOD MOM, SERIOUSLY? ARE YOU REALLY ASKING ME TO LEAVE THE DOOR UNLOCKED SO THAT I CAN BE POSSESSED! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME, DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF I DON'T LOCK THE DOOR... DAMNATION MOTHER. THATS WHAT WILL HAPPEN AND I WILL BE SCRATCHED UP IN MY SLEEP BY A WILD DEMON DEVIL CAT. THANKS A LOT I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME."
My mom thought I was out of my mind mostly. Really I was just overly anxious and scared a lot form being bought up in a chaotic unstable environment. ( I later found this out in therapy) so, really this was almost sort of normal. almost. As I got older,I moved onto being afraid of more sophisticated things like Serial Killers. Yep, I went balls out on this fear. I had my little OCD self running around the house like an ADD meth addict checking doors, and locking them, then unlocking , then locking again just to make sure the lock worked. Then if I was not satisfied I would have my Mom lock the door from the inside while I went outside to see if I could get in.. I never could, and my Mom was like " why was I blessed witch such a retarded child" then after checking the windows, and back door one more time. I went to bed.
It did not stop there though, I completely disregarded my Mom's orders not to shut and lock my door. I barricaded myself in my room. My thoughts were, the more things I had against my door the less likely a serial killer would be able to get into my room and rip out my organs with a grappling hook. Made sense to me. I locked it, and I would push blankets in front of it, towels, my night stand sometimes my dresser. Whatever I could move with out making to much noise as to alert my parents that I was doing something weird. This sort of helped calm me down but not really. I tried to talk my Dad into sleeping on the couch a lot, that way he could hear if anyone or anything was trying to get in. Sometimes this worked, but mostly he slept in his bed like a normal person. I would finally pass out and then it would happen. I would wake up at 3 am and have to pee. I tried so hard not to have to but I had not yet reached the stage where I found it acceptable to urinate in my bed because it was safer than braving the hallway and going to the bathroom. I was close though. I would first crawl to the end of the bed, put my ear to the door and listen. I did this for a few minutes because I am sure Serial Killers are to smart to be loud, so I had to be extra vigilant on this part. Then I would use one eye to peer out of the crack of my door jam and try to see if anything was out there. It did not look like it, but it was dark, so I could never be 100% about this. I waited until I was almost peeing my pants then I slowly opened my door and crept down the hallway then made a mad dash for the bathroom.
Once I got to the bathroom safely, I had to repeat the process. I listened, I tried to see if anything was coming, I sometimes passed out on the bathroom floor from listening for to long. Made yet another mad dash to my bedroom which would have to be re searched for potential life ending things. If it looked safe, I could then go back to sleep. If it did not look safe I would run back down the hallway of doom into my parents room and sleep on their floor. Better to die as a group then all alone. This goes on even now. Except my hallway is a lot smaller and I no longer live at home.I can't really run I just sort of fall into the bathroom really quickly. There is no lock on the bathroom door so if I ever hear anything unusual I hold onto the doorknob really tightly just in case anything should try to come in and attack me. Good to know I gained some sense of reality as I've grown older.
Yep pretty much, it's really exciting living in a state of constant and total fear. Almost like a fun house, except not fun, so sorry that was a bad analogy.
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