Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Fed up

I am fed up with the stupid pills.

I am not that upset with pain.
It really isn't​ all that bad for me.
It is a very mild flare.

I was upset with the deterioration in my hands, but nothing seems to be helping with the restrictions being imposed on my tendons. Indeed, it seems to be worse on the medication. I have three fingers which used to bend wot no longer do.

I only wanted to see a specialist because the disease was impacting on my ability to work, but medication appears to have a worse affect.

If I were rich and didn't have to work, I would persist.

... but fuck this for a lark ...

The stupid medication makes me sad.
I am randomly crying.

I have a nice, pleasant, no stress life.
I've worked hard too make it so.

I should not be crying into my​ dinner.

I will ring tomorrow to cancel the follow up appointment.

I have finally gotten round to buying a cd player, and am enjoying Bach's cello suites. Ta yo-yo Maa. You is da boom, hey?

You do me much more good than the silly pills.









Friday, April 7, 2017

Pill night Thursday ...

... so intense dreams.

First dream, started as a home invasion of my current abode. Managed to get a call off to 000 before the tyre-iron welding men got in, then unexplainably relocated to my grandmothers home (but which is a frequent location for my dreams).

Towards the end of the dream, with the police never showing up, I had skin tags and warts noted by my main attacker on my arms and shoulders and he decided that he would cut them off and excise them without any form of anesthetic or alcohol.  My semi naked figure was tied to a table whilst he cut and sewed with black thread.

Dream two was lovely and involved me travelling repetatively through mustard, blue, green and pink corridors and stairs. The green being my favourite because I tapshoed and shuffled my way down them too joyous music.  These are the colours my grandmothers houses walls were painted. A colour for each wall. Apparently it was the fashion at the time. My mother picked the colours out.

Dream three consisted of my current abode crumbling and sinking into the earth. I was trying to rescue my books.  It started with a leak in the bathroom wall that slowly ate the concrete away and ended with my whole family there, but not being much help and myself squirralling through openings to get to the closed off rooms to throw my books out the windows to safety.

My situation not helped with being unable to call ghe landlaord straight away because we had to clean the kitchen and lounge before he saw it, because I am such a messy person.

Dream two was lovely.
I wish I had more like them.

They're usually more like dream one and two, though they are exciting and interesting too.

I love dreaming :)

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Oops

I have been raised with a hetrosexual viewpoint, but still keep in mind childhood crushes on admired girls/teachers and do not rule them out, but am not a sexual being.

Indeed sex seems like a great deal of exercise for a muscle spasm.

I have never had a girl on girl relationship, though I have been assumed to be lesbian by others in the past.  At the schhols I went to girls didn't mix much with boys, and after that I have mostly always worked with older women.

I admire and adore a friend met online named Bec. She is awesome.  She is also beautiful, intelligent and talented.  I would feel inferior in her presence if she were not so lovely.  Instead, she makes you feel more ept and enabled and smarter, just being around her.

There is a young lady with a boyish look (a cross of Bec and a boy I was in love with when I was six) who works at the local supermarket.

She crosses all my wires and I stutter like a fool when she serves me.

Friday, March 31, 2017

I am sadness ...

I wish I still possessed a copy of Lady Hawke, for I am sadness.

I know it's only been a fortnight since Ted died, but I am subject to tragic thoughts when I Scooter.  I started crying half way home from work.  Really it is enough to put One off Scooters.  Great though they are.

It was the same with Bubba after he disappeared. I guess Ted is the closest I've come to having a long term relationship to anything.  It is only fair that I cry as much for Ted as I did for Bubba.

I wish I was still painting, even though I've never shown any talent for it.

It was a stopgap that stemmed the bad thoughts.

I shall buy a canvas this weekend to hammer into my subconscious my lack of talent and hopefully the urges will ebb. It's not as if I am any kind of artist?? It​'s stoopid. Appropriate for the stoopid pills, hey?

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

I blush ...

... there was perhaps a moment when, perhaps, the wind was too strong to fly a kite ... but only a moment.  I think we've had about three minutes of heavy rain since.

Obviously, many people south of Townsville have lost their homes and businesses, and perhaps i may possibly have enjoyed Kochies nervousness on the balcony a little too much.  Whilst also being a little turned on at his stern dadlike cautioning of the cameraman who wanted to get some more impressive shots of a piece of guttering that had come off the building.

But also, somewhat suffering the guilt of wishing something a bit bad would happen to idiots flying to a natural disaster before it happens.

It's just wrong.

And the whole standing around outside during a cyclone thing ... ?!?!

You can take illicit drugs, hey?
It is probably safer.

Don't know what is organised vis a vis donations to flood/cyclone relief, but please consider qld if you have spare moola.

It's nice and warm at the moment, so no one is cold, and people help each other, so no one is starving, but replacing clothes and daily necessities costs a lot of money, not to mention all the businesses which won't be operating and employing people.

And cat food.
And kitty litter!
My cats won't crap outside when it is too wet.
Really, i am sure everybody has enough to put up with without cat shit on top of everything else.

Edit: over 30%heat and high humidity, no airconditioning or even ceiling fans because no power ... and no deodorant!

Edie edit:  solar powered fairy lights are surprisingly useful.
That's how my family lit their bathroom for a week with the power off last cyclone.
A bit of light to help find the toilet comes in handy.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

What is this looming thing?

It is cyclone Debbie.

Soooo not an intimidating name. Why couldn't they at least rename her Deborah when they decided she might be more than cat 3?

How embarrassing would it be to have all ones earthly goods destroyed by Debbie?

Probably i am being insulting to Debbies.
Probably they are a devastating force of nature too, when they want to be, hey?

I just wish work was closed like the schools.

I predict I shall arrive at a surgery with few doctors and spend all morning cancelling appointments (to much abuse, because that is a receptionists lot in life), until such time as i have to drive home in unsafe conditions and be unable to buy any last minute necessities i may require, because sensible businesses closed at midday, so that employees were left with plenty of time to make their homes safe with all the things one does not do till the last minute, like bringing the bins into the house, etc.

In my case, my bins into my kitchen and my scooter into the laundry.

I plan to spend most of tuesday drunk.
(If i can get to a bottle shop in time with the meagre pickings left of my pay after ordering a skip so I  could clean up the block).
Yasi was an all night affair.
Debbie does daytime

Hopefully, Debbie does not blow Townsville ... away.

My poor brother in Mackay will probably have it much worse, though I have great faith in his partner Dianne to have done all sensible insurancy things.  She is much more organised then I  am.  I wish I had a Dianne.

Dianne could totally take Debbie.

Pre-cyclone picture, all blushing pink and orange fire.









Toss ya for it?

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

I am sadness ...

My beautiful neighbour Ted passed away Thursday.

He would have been 96 this year.

He would tell me stories about his wife Beryl, about her lamingtons and hanging plants,  about their life on the farm, about his experiences stationed at Darwin during the war.

He gave me his newspaper every evening after he'd completed the crossword.

I didn't see him so much after I started at the medical centre cause I mostly work afternoon/evenings, and his chat time was usually between 5 and 5.30 when his dinner was cooking. He said he swore he wouldn't let himself go when Beryl died, so he kept to a strict schedule for meals and stuff.

The void was soon filled by the Bluecare ladies who helped him bath every morning, but i would still catch him sometimes on my day off or at the mailbox and/or bin mornings.

The afternoon he died i was contemplating trying to organise a set time we could have morning tea together, around his nap times, which were gradually increasing every year.

He was a lovely, kind man who always pretended to be more deaf then he actually was when I checked in with him about my tendancy to sing rather louder than I  should.

Cheers Ted.
Probably I've had rather too many drinks in your honour since Thursday night ... but you're worth it, hey?
Cheers!
(And at least i am not trying to ferment my own liqur with sugar, spit and coconuts)