Archive for the ‘Cranky’ Category
Well, he didn’t. His body did.
Nobody could reach him but he had a spare key under the mat. Even I knew that, as I’d been over to his house for dinner and socializing. He wanted to make sure that if I got into trouble, felt sick or anything else, I was go straight to his place.
So sweet, but oddly ironic. His apartment was a longer walk away than mine.
No idea what happened, but he was found sitting in the living room, relaxing in his favourite chair with the TV on. rigor mortis.
He was older but not that old. Smoked and some other health issues he told me in secret.
Heart Attack? Aneurysm? Something that was fast since he wasn’t found in an odd, accidental or dangerous position. Those two are my suggestions. He had serious cardiac problems.
NOTE: this Post was started days ago. I found out he was recently scheduled for an angiogram for cardiac care.
He was a part time bartender at our local pub. Such a small clientele means two degrees of separation. Or one.
When I got there, a mini shitshow as there weren’t a lot of people around. The news was new.
He did a lot for the Community too. Coached and organized an entire baseball league. Get kids off the street and give them some proper support and guidance.
I met a lot of the kids too. So happy and full of joy.
NOTE: I have no long since I started this.
This actually happened yesterday. I’ve been up all night and it’s well into morning now. Somehow I managed to have a shower. I don’t understand how that occurred.
I’ve connected with his sister to offer any help necessary. She said she’ll be in touch. They don’t live here plus I have been through this process when my Mom passed away.
I’m tired but no sleep now. The sun is beaming like a laser into my eyes.
Not sure what the next few days will bring, but since he worked at our little pub it’ll be days of an Irish Wake. My liver is in for a serious ride.
I’m back to complete this after several days.
My liver might be falling at this point. I’m too jittery and full of ADD, Asperger’s and mourning my Mom all over again. At least I’m getting some sleep.
I gave some resources to his sister and offered to help with anything regarding the throngs of people coming to the Visitation.
I haven’t heard back, but I know it’s a big deal serving food to people constantly, and always coffee and tea available.
The Funeral Staff don’t actually do that as there could be more services to attend, and seriously it isn’t their responsibility. They’re not Servers in some fancy Cafe!
I’ll show up and just see what happens. I know the drill.
Why the fuck won’t people listen to me when I know what I’m talking about? I’m not an expert at everything, but when I explain the logic behind a given matter, people tend to look at me like I’m a five-year-old.
Just now, I was trying to explain to someone how to do curls for their biceps. They were going to fast. You need to go at a slow rate, inhale when you lift and exhale when you lower the bell.
Think about how fast you can inhale and exhale depending upon the weight you’re lifting. Without taxing your breathing or respiratory response, lifts should match in kind.
This then evens out your rounds and repetitions. That’s very important because if they’re not consistent, you can end up with strains or injuries.
I’m not a Fitness Instructor but I think I’m right. I’m just working from my Medical Anatomy and Physiology knowledge. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. I’ve just worked out this way and I know it’s worked.
This is just an example in the immediate. People still don’t listen to me when I really know what I’m talking about.
It pisses me off. To no end. Do I really sound that fucking stupid?
The Phantom has returned. Maybe she will Post once a month, a year, it will be useless, ranty, but that’s how she’s feels now.
Plus not giving a damn crap about grammar.
I’d get into the story but I’m too tired and honestly ready for the Psych Ward because of it.
Soothing Goth Music and loads of drugs to get to sleep.
Laters.
Yes. I’m creating a new style.
It will surely catch on quickly, for those walking around with permanent, dark clouds over their heads. Just like me.
The rest of you “sunny folks” might not take to it so much. But if you do, you might have to work a bit harder to end up on the runway. I’m already designing my first line.
To those who want to audition, email me with your Headshots, completely showing your Dark Clouds. No Agents are required. Neither are your body sizes.
Although, your tastes in music I feel are a requirement. Please state them, and send CD’s, .mp3’s, whatever, with your favourite songs. That would be very helpful.
I am a Fashionista, so keep that in mind. That will never change. No matter how much I may wish to throw myself off a Condominium with 50 Floors. Or, anything else like that.
Which would hurt.
GRIEVOUSLY.
Now, everyone interested in modelling, please carefully consider my Philosophy:
“It looks like shite, but it would cost hundreds of dollars.”
I’m quite serious about this. I will put something together, all Dark-Cloudy-Headed, and people will think I’m a total freak of nature (which I am but that’s irrelevant.)
I’ll casually stroll past the most expensive stores in the city. Soon I’ll hear the sounds. Once again. At least now, no longer deafening.
Multiple Ambulances, the Police, the Firemen and Women. All because of so many turned necks, heads and bodies that have been shot back to me.
My “Trashy Attire” WAS worth hundreds of dollars. And unfortunately a lot of hospital beds. But for looking better than the rest? Is it really your fault?
I don’t bother sticking around for the Media. That would be extremely poor taste.
So let me know what you think.
I was just thinking too. Maybe Neganovelty wouldn’t be such a “Novelty” after all. Just like in Fashion, you can NEVER go wrong with black.
There are a lot of people out there that don’t have only permanent dark clouds over their heads. They have ones that are permanently BLACK.
Maybe mine is too. I do look striking in black. And every woman has “The Perfect Little Black Dress” in her closet.
I’m home right now. Had to bring some things back. Everything I’m taking will not fit in a single car, trip back and forth. Unless you rented a truck? I’m Next of Kin. MINE!
My Transpo got waylaid too. Just have to sit and wait for my driver to come tomorrow.
There’s been a lot going on since Mom died. Well, that’s quite an understatement if you’ve ever had to deal with someone’s entire life since they’ve shuffled off “This Mortal Coil.” That one’s okay. The Band. However, every single person has said some variation of “Pass.” Passed, Passed On, Passing, Passing On.
Being a writer, I not only love every single letter that creates a word, but also words themselves. Then, that creates more love and lust for everything. Including, but not limited to: odd, emotionally laden, archaic phrases and expressions. Many times they can be all three. Perhaps this “Pass” business fits in there somewhere. Despite that possibility, I’m too exhausted to learn at this moment. It just strikes me as rather unusual.
Why won’t anyone say anything related to death? We’re also talking about multiple generations! Those of her generation, me and my sister, then my sister’s children! She died.
None of these people are Buddhist. If anything, I should be saying, “Passed On” because of my Buddhist beliefs.
Moreover, you can practise Buddhist beliefs and philosophy without the entire issue of coming back in another life form. If you disagree, come talk to me. Buddhism isn’t always that peaceful either. Monks from differnt sects have gone ballistic; yelling and screaming, throwing things to actually injure each other. Quite amusing.
Things haven’t been that bad for me though. At least physically.
I have a lot of feelings about my Mom dying. About my Mom living! Many of them conflicting, confusing, painful and sorrowful. Anger too. I also know happy, funny and not necessarily so negative. Although, there is one thing I did not question at all, not for a second. As soon as I knew she was going to die (ultimately of bone cancer) not after she died, I would never be the same person again.
That can happen, right?
Right?
Am I wrong here?
Things have been so out of control, trying to deal with everything in a practical manner, I haven’t had any time to process a single thing. Maybe a tiny shred of some emotion has managed to reach the surface, but it’s been very brief. Only then, a few tears have escaped, and rolled down my cheeks. But no matter what, I refused to let any more out.
Unless I was on my own. Then I could cry. Sometimes, many tears would come out, yet I couldn’t identify why or what on earth I was feeling. What was the trigger? What was making me cry?
There was another reason why I would only cry alone. It was much stronger, and my mind was crystal clear regarding this situation!
I’m staying at my “Dad’s” place. I’m only calling him that because everyone else is. I still don’t feel he’s actually my Dad. I kicked him out of my life over 15 years ago after he stole $5,000 from me. Well, I caught him. Then it took forever for him to pay me back. That was just the final straw.
I’m now being reunited with many extended family members on his side. After cutting them off for more than 20 years? They’re all hugging me, telling me how much they love me, how so, so sorry they are about my Mom. Gee, that’s not more to deal with, is it?
So I’m DEFINITELY not crying in front of them! I’ve already had enough “touchy-feely” from you, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be of any help dealing with all of this from a Hospital Psych Ward. Some days, I feel like I should be in one. Some days, I feel like I’m already in one!
When this is over, I have no idea what is going to happen. It’s going to happen anyway though, so there’s no point in worrying about it. You can’t rush grief. You just go through it.
ASIDE: my friend who is taking care of my mail and apartment while I’m away just popped by. He told me his friend died today. I couldn’t believe any of my senses. We’re both friends with a guy in my building who knew the deceased. Looks like we’re going to have a grief party.
*sighs*
Well, I can try. Second night at Dad’s now. My sister and uncle just blasted into the room as she flew in from across the country. Things are now getting more and more stressful as I’m coming face to face with extended family members I kicked them out of my life (including my father in the next room.) I did so because they would give you Ebola through a simple phone call.
When I saw my sister, I started crying because I haven’t seen her a bajillion years. She was pretty cold, ambivalent maybe? Both? She did complement my shoes.
Still running on fumes. Actually had a full meal today. For dinner a Bison Burger! Welcome to Canada! You wouldn’t see that on every restaurant menu though.
Tomorrow I have to go the Funeral Home with my sister and pay for the Cremation. A financial glitch, but I would have done it anyway! She was my mother!
I’ll get reimbursed. It will be covered by a Government Pension Mom was receiving. Of course, I know to get a Death Certificate. When dealing with Estate Laws you ALWAYS get multiple copies of Death Certificates for everything that you have to handle.
I meant to write more about my feelings and emotions. There is just so much going on. A concoction of business, chaos, miscommunication and exhaustion. It doesn’t leave much time for even the slightest pause or glimpse into one’s inner thoughts, and time to reflect upon them. Right now, I’m either the walking dead (bad pun) or functioning on a UFO’s Autopilot System.
That expression formally endswith six. Someone I worked with used to say it all the time. With six.
He’d do it out of frustration, when he’d made a mistake, when somebody was going through a hard time to help or cheer them up, and always while joking.
I never understood what the expression meant. I’d never heard it before up until that point in my life. I’d always gone along with everyone else at work. I laughed and smiled. Inside? I felt like a total goofball.
At one point, he and I were alone. I felt totally awkward and ashamed (why?) We both loved each other. A lot.
NOTE: some Asperger’s behaviour with all of this? Can you see that? Plus, a lot of my colleagues were mean. Must hide.
So, I finally asked him.
“S., what on earth does that expression mean? You’re always saying it, everybody else seems to know. What the ‘fuck’…hahaha…is it some kind Orgy Rule?” We were both in stitches when I said that.
After we both gathered composure, he told me to think about it. THINK ABOUT IT???You, little… I have thought about it! That’s why I’m asking! Doofus.
We were both in our 20’s. He was a few years younger. Since we were so close (damn near in love with each other) he enjoyed with great pleasure to tease and embarrass me while working. In front of the public! Anything to make blush. Which can happen before a hat enters a room to drop anyway.
I told him to fuck off and just answer the damn question. Otherwise, I would beat it out of him. Which would be impossible without many weapons. I’m tiny. Even though he was thin, he stood about 6’1″ To hug me, he’d almost have to pick me up. Especially if I wasn’t wearing shoes.
Anyway, for those who do not know, the expression means that you tell everyone in your life to yes, fuck off, screw themselves, go to hell etc. Except for only six people.
Why? You need six Pallbearers to carry your Casket when you die.
I was almost on my knees, laughing so hard. I could barely breathe. It was a good thing he was right beside me so he could pick me up. I really was that close to falling. He just smirked, satisfied he’d almost made me look, once more, like a fool in front of the public.
My number two? Well, I’m wearing almost “Death Bling.” Two of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen.
A very close friend I met so long ago “gave” me his Cross. He was also a very close lapsed Catholic. I dare you to find me a bigger one. However, his Mother was extremely Devout.
She gave him his Cross when he went fully through all the Stations. Confirmed as a young boy. If she ever saw him without it, the Bible and more would hit the fan!
One night we were drinking and fooling around, being our idiot selves and I took it. I put it on, making jokes about how Catholic he was, I was the better one by not being Catholic at all!
I went home, and realized I still had it! HIS MOM!!! I called and left a voicemail. Nothing. This went on for YEARS.
Constant contact back and forth.
“Yeah, later.” ‘Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow.” “Let me send you an email in a couple of days.” “Don’t worry, I know it’s in a safe place.”
He died and I found out after the fact. What about his Cross?! It was “missing.” His Mother. Did G. tell them anything? I never got a phone call. Granted, my number is unlisted. But he knew where I lived.
Some people later told me after all those years, the constant excuses, never coming to get it, questions before dying? It meant something. What? I was totally clueless.
They said it was because he wanted me to have it. I still didn’t understand and couldn’t grasp that concept. In fact, it still seems a bit odd to this day.
After a few years though, I think I might have figured out why.
I knew he had ADHD roughly 10 years before I knew I had ADD! He confided in me, something he’d never told anyone else. His Mother had Mental Health Issues. And all around, I was the only person who really understood him. No words were ever said about it. I don’t think he could have put any letters together to start a sentence for it!
The cross is gold. 14K. Maybe an inch high so proportionate. It has the entire Lord’s Prayer in Relief on it!
ASIDE: Relief is a Coin Collecting Term. It means any part of a coin that is raised. The higher you can feel it, and the cleaner it is on the coin (and the cleaner the coin itself) the better Relief. Then, it is extended to all metallurgical engraving.
The second piece of jewelry is from my Nana. My Mom’s Mother. I loved it so much, even as a child. I actually became so bold when a teenager, I asked if I could have it when she died! She just laughed and said of course I could.
It is beautiful and obviously sentimental. A locket shaped as a shield. 18K. I can’t even begin to describe its complicated and intensely gorgeous engraving.
Inside, there are two little pictures. One of her husband, my Grampa, a dashing, young man. The other, a baby picture of my Mom.
Neither of these are coming off until? Definitely not until we take care of Mom’s Estate! And probably longer. Definitely longer.
I think that says it all.
Although, we could add “Reader’s Cement Truck Pouring Block.” That seems quite reasonable.
But what’s even worse; even more pathetic and frustrating, is that I could “cheat” (or actually beat) my loss of creativity. How? This is where it really hurts.
I could write Posts about some things I’ve done in the past. These things that allow for very simple continuation. Or, they would just simple on their own.
I’ve even written things down! Kind of. So, does that mean I’m only some per centage of getting sucked into the Cement…sand? Uhhh… I just lost my truck of thought…
Goodgurbleuhyy…
Am I going to show up on Twitter using WP now? Now? Now? Now? Immediately after I finish typing? Now? Now? N…
After being Referee at the longest, most painful Technological Boxing Match, ever?
Now? Now? Now?
Painful, due to them both pummeling the hell out of the Referee. That was me, remember?
Here we go, you shitbag apps.
I think I’ve used that before. When things have gone sideways, pear shaped, become frozen, completely imploded, people have been stalking me, I’ve been stalking me and many other things.
Here’s a new one. I’m now visually impaired to some degree, so forget using my Mac. Even tiny mobile screens can become brutal.
“Visually Impaired?” you ask.
Modus diagnosis operandi is Continual Migraines. Shrapnel in my brain, from being admitted to hospital for a Stroke. That was a year ago. Except it wasn’t a Stroke. It just sure as hell looked like one!
So it was probably a TIA then. They can present almost exactly the same way. The primary distinction is no damage or insults to the brain, whereas a Stroke generally shows something when you look at any/all parts of it.
Plus YOU can show a lot after a Stroke.
Well, my brain’s been insulted a lot. By seizures, falls, people telling me I’m stupid, and yes, prior migraines. However, this is a different braingame. Too much.
Migraines can mimic Strokes and TIA’s so I probably didn’t have one of those either. It was “The Migraine Heard Around the World.”
I’m not kidding. I’ve been through a lot of funky medical experiences but this? It was beyond belief. Surreal. My head really did explode. Okay, it didn’t but at the time…you get it. And my eyes. Psychedelic and black vision.
Try to imagine that.
Now, blurry, photophobia, pain cognitive impairment. So, sunglasses, don’t push using my eyes, dimenhydrinate, new med (Beta-blocker Propranolol) and cane.
Now back to my Blog after that fun stuff.
This whole Blog has turned to shit. I honestly think this is the lowest of the low. It’s never been as bad as this.
I don’t have the imagination to imagine conjuring a beginning to begin fixing it. Much less time. The first thing would be my Blogroll.
How many old and dead Blogs are lined up there like ratty, teenage socks, hanging out to dry but they’ll always reek? No doubt more than I already know.
Then, replacements. I’ve met so many great people with amazing Blogs out there. However, due to “Technical Errors” (i.e. I’m a fucking idiot) I never filed them along with my others.
“Look and Feel?” Oh, bloody hell. Just the thought of it makes me feel nauseous. And since I’m sick I’m already nauseous!
The plopping of my current template into (better said ONTO) another template can make you want to heave, simply by looking at it. Run away horrified too.
Eventually. Hopefully.
I haven’t shut everything thing down after so many easy (and difficult) situations. That must mean something. Perhaps the fact, that it’s actually not the lowest of low after all.
Yet?
The Backing and Forthing
Track the Twit(ter…)
Psych Central 2009 Top 10 Bipolar Blogs
Currently Reading (Bless My Stims!)
Too many things at once. My ADD is running full throttle.
However...
MORE GENEROUS AWARDS
I'm really a girl though.
Here are some more given to me where I had a complete memory lapse. I think I got the hovers correct like the above!
Dr. PA Available For Consultations: General Medicine Plus Specialty in Neurology From Harvard
patientanonymous (at) gmail (dot) com
NOTE: This other side of her ego may get back to you as well:
Hi. I'm Aspie Penguin. I do my hardest to take care of PA. She doesn't always do so well on her own.
You can reach me at her email above, or I have my own: aspiepenguin (at) gmail (dot) com
Patient Anonymous: Just Another Head Case 