March 1, 2016
I spent Saturday in Dallas with my brother. We drove up there for a seminar on self development and although I didn’t let my brother know, I was more excited about the road trip than the actual seminar. It was a four hour drive from Houston. We picked up breakfast on the road and I slept for about two hours before waking up as we passed some vacant Texas town. We jammed a lot of our 90s favorites and chatted about relationships, politics and the universe.
I’ve been recovering from bronchitis which I caught a little over a month ago, so I still have sporadic coughing fits that leave me breathless and achy all around my chest and rib cage. When we finally arrived, I was hoping that I wouldn’t be coughing during the entire presentation and fortunately, I didn’t, but that’s because I popped three cough drops in the course of an hour.
After the seminar, we went to eat tacos at a colorful taco spot called Velvet Taco located near downtown Dallas. My brother said it was very hipstery and I chuckled at the thought that he was probably right. I don’t know when the use of “hipster” is appropriate, but in any case, I don’t want to be associated with it. It irks me if I’m ever called that. Oh yeah–TACOS! The tacos were de-fuckin’-li-cious! A mixture of Asian cuisine with the traditional Mexican tortillas (sounds pretty hipstery huh?). I ordered one with chickpeas doused in all sorts of Indian spices and another shrimp taco which was tasty as fuck!
As I reached for one of my tacos, I fell into a coughing spell. I hacked and hacked and heard a crack in my rib. Cough. Cough. Cough. CRACK. Damnit. I know that sound and feeling all too well. Yup, I fractured another rib. I say another because the year before last I fractured three when I slipped getting out of the shower. I think I fractured one last year but I’m not sure how. And I cannot recall how many ribs I’ve fractured in my lifetime.
A fractured rib from coughing is the kind of thing that is common when you have Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI). I remember a discussion on one of the OI Facebook groups I frequently peruse and occasionally participate in. A guy asked, “what’s the weirdest fracture you’ve had”? One of the most memorable replies I read was a guy who said he fractured his skull while sneezing. I’ve had a hairline fracture on the frontal part of my skull, but at least I got that when I fell out of a car in a drunken stupor. Seems legit, right? Seems earned. But sneezing?! Damn. That beats fractured ribs any day (not that there’s a competition anywhere). Another lady from the group always posts things about her seven year old daughter who has OI. Her kid’s type of OI ranges between the severity of Type II and Type III–the type I have. Well, in one post she mentioned something that her kid had said. It was both adorable and sad. She said, “mommy I don’t get the hiccups. I get the breakups ’cause when I get the hiccups I break a rib.”
So I guess I don’t have bronchitis. I have breakitis. It’s part of the amazing package that is Ms. Mouse, a few broken bones here and there every couple of years or so. I don’t really count the ribs. Those happen all too often these days, for me at least.
What am I getting at? Well, it’s international Rare Disease Day and Osteogenesis Imperfecta aka Brittle Bone Disease aka Lobstein Syndrom is one of the rare “diseases”. I’d rather call it a condition–a rare bone condition.
I thought that this day would be celebrated every year, that it fell on the last day of February, but I just realized it falls exactly on February 29th meaning that it is only celebrated on leap years. I guess the gimmick is rare is only every so often? If you wanna know more you can visit the official website or check out the rare disease Facebook page.
January 30, 2014
Yesterday I got to work from home again. Again, the weather dropped to the 30’s degrees F. Something all Houstonians aren’t accustomed to: schools being closed due to winter storms and sleet (tiny tiny sleet). Considering that I hurt my fractured rib coughing yet AGAIN, this was a good thing for me.
Houston’s weather has always been what I call “bipolar” in the winter, but this year it’s flipping so fast it’s like rapid cycling and the changes are as volatile as the dysregulated emotions of a person diagnosed with borderline personality disorder/emotional dysregulation disorder.
I took plenty of naps, risked a few minutes of my dad yelling at me for going out in the cold while I’m just getting over my cold to get these quick shots on my phone. I took some time to pamper myself and make sure I took my Mucinex for the cough and snot and whatnot.
Today I was off. Went to orthopedics for my fucked-up bone situation, hopefully the topic of my next post.
And… I’m being all girly with this glittery nail polish. I usually HATE glitter but I love this! Life feels good. I’m in a strange, uncharted territory. Le smile, le worry look, le sigh.
It’s 30 degrees this very moment but I’m in my room having cold sweats with muscle rub spread all over my ribs and back. Stinky and sweaty and achy. Ugh.
But alas, I’m in love. And love makes things more tolerable, makes the body stronger.
Well, looks like I’m going back to work on campus tomorrow to shoot an art gallery opening and do all the other things that I do and do not do. Better catch some zzzzzzzz.
December 1, 2012
November 25, 2012
Southeast Texas is beautiful this time of year. A lot of the coastal birds are filling the sky and chirping all around–on trees, light posts, stop light, electric wires (yeah), and big signs that stick out of shops.
I’ve been back in therapy since sometime in early July (or was is late June?), and I’ve taken a few snapshots when I get the chance to stick around for a while. It’s good to be able to do some art therapy right after psychotherapy I usually stick around when I take the bus there. Last week my dad took me; the week before last, I didn’t go because I had surgery.
I took these sometime mid-October, soon after my birthday.
There are still more but I’m just putting ten for now.
Oh! I also started swimming again today! The water was freezing cold (not really). But last night, I had an attack of the mentals as Le Sailor might say. I don’t know what happened. It just came on so sudden. I’d been relatively stable–as in kind of “normal”, whatever that means. But the last few days have been strange, like a sort of spike. Here’s what I wrote on my Facebook page last night. I still don’t know how to describe this feeling.
“I feel strange. I can’t even put words to it. I hope it’s not the darkness and the PLDs settling in again. No, no no. I even yelled harshly at Luna for licking my nose. Of course I asked for forgiveness, which she immediately did. I feel a rage surging deep down within me though. I’m starting to sense that I can’t trust anyone.”
Fortunately, two of my lovely blogging buddies send me some comforting words. Thanks guys!
Here’s where you can see the post Campus Crawlin’ – Part 1
NOTE: I didn’t watermark these because I think they look better without a big ole copyright sign on them and a big ole PAZZZZZZ. You know the Monkey Bee (see below) WILL STAB YOU if you dare copy these as your own. She don’t play.
September 8, 2012
Janis had a voice in tune with the angels and demons. Her Pretty Little Demons must have been beyond pretty, gorgeous even, much like mine. And I’m not saying I’m gorgeous here; it’s just my demons are.
So, today’s song is “Summertime”. The mood in this song is so melancholy and yet the lyrics have a mixed tinge of humor and sadness, of sarcasm and anger, of positive and negative thougths battling between this girl from a rich dad and gorgeous mom. A girl who will someday fly. I love that thought as trite as it may seem. Will she fly as an angel in death? Or will she do great things in her life? It’s up in the air.
It’s like the essence of the song describes my childhood, my youth.
I know all about having a gorgeous mom, about melancholy and being mixed up with ambivalence, confusion and ambiguity. But my dad on the other hand lost his business in Colombia when he decided to move to the States for me. He sacrificed everything he’d worked up for until that point. I always felt so guilty about it. Ironically though, the guy who took over his photography studio after we left was shot while some hoodlums broke in to steal anything they could. Colombia was in deep political unrest at the time.
Well, it’s summer and summertime living is easy for us southern girls. ha! Somer time is ‘a leavin’.
Summertime for me has often been a time of remission from the “mentals” (usually, not always); the only brief remissions I recall. And this summer seems to be no different, despite the burdensome circumstances. I have been getting relatively “better” since July.
I also recall many melancholy summers in my childhood. I was a melancholy child even before the suicidals hit. Oh I do. Child melancholy. Adolescent melancholy. Adult melancholy. It just gets worse. It’s just another bucket filling in the well.
Oh summertime though. Weren’t childhood summers the best? If I recall clearly, even my childhood melancholy summers where better than my remission adolescent and adult summers.
Summertime is ‘a here y’all. Don’t you cry girl. Don’t you cry. Remember you’re the “mean challenger,” the “brave girl” who never cries.
Yet I’m crying now.
Oh I have so many stories about what this song means to me. So here’s just one of the many….
Once Upon a Summertime
I became extremely close to a dirty-blond haired girl way back in 2003-2004. She had big eyes like mine, only hers were green–mine are brown. And she had gorgeous big, pursed lips. It got to a point where I had an intense crush on her. I’m still not sure why.
Back then, I was involved in this organization called the International Order of the Rainbow for Girls and used to joke that they were a cult of lesbians–I wish they were because at least then I wouldn’t have to wear white dresses and do stupid rituals for Jesus. No offense to Jesus. I’m sure he was a cool dude. I’d have kicked it with him, but I doubt he enjoys all that adoration.
This organization was VERY religious and very strict. I caught hell for wearing a brow and nose ring. Anyway, that’s were I met this wonderful girl. The day I met her, we laughed at the rituals and the white dresses.
Don’t get scared; they didn’t harm me. Well, they did once when we went to Corpus Cristi but that’s another post altogether. This Rainbow for Girls thing was more like a cult of Mason’s Christian daughters who claimed to do charity work (the reason I’d joined was because I wanted to do charity work), but instead of doing charity, they only bickered. Anyway, me and this girl (I’ll call her Emma) connected because we both felt out-of-place there. We were both outsiders.
Emma was a wild one, a free-thinker like me. We had one of those intense connections that immediately sparked! And one summer, we had a road trip with the other Rainbow Girls, the not-so-free-thinker-ones. In the car, Emma and I jammed to Joplin. Me and her, her and me. We laughed a lot that girl Emma and I.
This girl, Emma, knew ALL ABOUT Janis Joplin. I mean, if you know anything about Janis Joplin, you know that she was from Texas. You’d know she was born in January 19, 1943 and began writing plays in the first grade (oh how I’ve always had a thing for most Aquarians I’ve met). You’d also know that she went to Lamar State College for a stretch between gigs before becoming famous. And since you’d know she grew up in Texas and that Lamar State College is where she went for a while; you’d know Lamar State College is also in Port Arthur, Texas, not too far from Houston where I grew up.
Yep, you’d know, you’d know how inadequate she must’a felt there. You’d know that in high school, she’d earned the name “pig” for being pudgy and “nigger lover” for her “tolerance” and love of blacks and her hate of racism–which she witnessed a lot of in Port Arthur and at Lamar, I’m sure. You’d know that that’s why she often left to live with her aunt in Venice Beach, California.
Surely, you’d know this, but even so, you wouldn’t know all the things this girl Emma knew. Emma and I felt her PAIN. This girl was a DEDICATED Joplin fan–must be still. I became a hardcore dedicated fan thanks to Emma.
A year after that summer, in the spring of 2004, I went on a road trip to the northwestern plains of Texas with Emma. Just us two. We went to visit her then-fiancé in prison. She and I had a thing for bad boys, only she’d slept with many and I hadn’t… yet. She was only a year older than me but had been engaged more than once. I hadn’t even had sex or a boyfriend.
I remember getting so upset when I was in that line of booths where you talk to the prisoners through a connected phone behind the windows. I got upset because the people next to us was a family of five–a mom and her three little kids. The dad was a prison inmate. The oldest child was about ten. They were all visiting their daddy, and to me it was so sad. I just sat and watched the man talk to his kids behind the glass while Emma talked to her fiance. And I wondered if it were better for those kids to visit that man, their father, or not. I was so depressed then. I remember wheeling myself to the restroom past these gates where men in solitary confinement stayed. And I just sat on the stall and cried and cried. When I got back, I sat there just looking at them but trying not to look too hard. I always felt things like that, intensely.
Springs have never been good to me, but sumertime is a little different.
On our way back from the prison–oh those lovely Texas prisons and there are loads of them– we stopped at this old ma-and-pa shop looking for a place to eat spaghetti. Emma got herself a Southern Comfort plaque, and we planned to see if we could sneak our way into buying some Southern Comfort whisky back in Houston.
Janis had been a “troubled girl” like Janis and I, so she drank a lot of that Southern Comfort whiskey (we ended up not getting the whisky after all).
She was my “date” at my senior prom. She wore a tucks with high heels and I wore a beautiful black and green dress. I didn’t enjoy myself. I only cried after it was over.Then Emma told me that she was planning on going to Lamar State College. She never did. She went somewhere else. She also told me she had BP (bipolar disorder), but back then I hadn’t had my monumental mental breakdown, so I hadn’t been diagnosed or sent to any psychiatric clinic. I was still struggling in silence. So I felt awkward telling her about how much I empathized. I did tell her I empathized but not REALLY EMPATHIZED like I did on the inside. I guess I paid no mind because I was trying to put “mind over matter” like a good Christian Scientist would. I still suspected BP or something similar in myself.
What do you think happened between me and dear Emma?
Very borderline is what happened.
Our intense friendship broke–just as intense of a rupture as its union. We dissipated from each other as quickly as we had bonded. I see our little summer escapades as a chemical reaction between atoms, forming new molecules, new bonds–that became our friendship. Then, the borderline in me and the bipolar in her was the catalyst.
Then again, I could over analyze it like I tend to. Or oversimplify it. Of course, life is just like that. Some people drift in and out of our lives. But for me, it’s everyone I’ve been close to. Maybe that’s just how life is for some of us.
In 2006, Emma and I rekindled our friendship online. And for a brief moment, all was well between us again. Then one day, she let me down. She asked me out to a Greek festival and the day of the festival she didn’t return my calls. I instantly went from loving her to hating her guts! I wanted to tear at my skin and pull all of my hair out.
“How could she do this to me?” I thought. “Why wouldn’t she at least call back and say she was sorry, that she wasn’t going, or that she couldn’t pick me up because something held her up?” When I emailed her about it, she didn’t reply. “What did I do? She obviously hates me. No one will ever like me.”
I insulted her in another email and cut her off completely though I missed her terribly. Now was that just life or some of the “borderline” in me?
Soon summertime will become “autumn time” in this part of the world. Molecules come together; molecules break apart. Warmth becomes cool.
addendum: Monkey Man L. had a vinyl record of hers I really wanted. mmmhmmm. I would have wanted it as a memento. I think his sis too it. Well, she deserved it.
August 12, 2012
I decided to start taking pictures on my way to therapy. These are a few I’ve taken in the last two weeks. I’ll have to take my actual, semi-pro camera out next time instead of using my old phone.
Click to see the gallery.
As I waited for the bus to the university, I read this passage from Woman Hollering Creek by Sandra Cisneros:
“Because those who suffer have a special power don’t they? The power of understanding someone else’s pain. And understanding is the beginning of healing.”
June 6, 2012
So, I’d written a “Good List, Round Three” last week and never published it because of what was stated in the last two posts. Basically, I’m still a rubber ball bouncing down that cobbled-stone road. Hopefully the road levels off soon, but it looks like one of those mountainous roads in Colombia.
Anywho, here’s a “Good List” 3.1. It’s short and sweet.
I got “The Buddha and the Borderline” by Kiera Van Gelder in the mail yesterday. Thanks to Zen for recommending it. I asked my brother if he could order it from me from Amazon since I no longer have a bank account and that I would pay him back since I got paid for that photo restoration of that military looking guy. Well, he just offered to give it to me and I’ve been carrying it around since yesterday along with “Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy” by David D. Burns, M.D.. That book was actually a gift from my Ex-Young Therapist. I’ll talk about that Burns fella sometime.
I got to go in for an unscheduled thirty minute therapy session with New Male Therapist. I had called her to ask about any updates on the DBT group and she said she’d look into why they’re taking so long to get in touch with me. She also said that coincidentally her 2:30 cancelled so I went in. I told her I had three leads for therapists and that if all works out, I may be going back to the university since I had my intake phone session last Thursday. I was honest to her about what I’ve been dealing with these past weeks since I last spoke with her on the phone (didn’t tell her about the little cutting incident though). I did discussed options for inpatient. She was very good about informing me. The community/general hospital would basically take an evaluation of me at the ER and put me on a 24 hour observation deal, ughhh, and then decide if I need to be committed. It all sounds really blegh to me, but it was discussed and discussing it made me feel better or less indecisive. I don’t know. Texas is very underfunded in these things, so umm… this is a good list… let’s move on.
I got a call from Mansie today. She said I got the job…er internship job! I’m so excited but I still feel like clicking a gat to my head. But let’s just focus on the good thing, which is I got it! And Mansie will be my supervisor and though I will not get into the details of it (sssssht!), I will say that there will be no problem with my immigration status or lack thereof, for the time being. It’s stipend pay and since I’m an intern, I won’t be on payroll. I start next week on whichever day I’d like to come in they said.
The Bill Collector Mafia sent a death threat this week, only it wasn’t threatening my death! They’ll hit me where it hurts! My little Luna. Yep, they said, they’d take her hostage if I don’t pay up. The good thing about this you ask? Well, I didn’t freak out. I didn’t have another one of those pesky and painful panic attacks I’ve been having lately. I told Luna I loved her and that I wouldn’t let that Bill Collector Mafia get their hands on her. I told her that now that I have a “job”, I can probably figure things out.
I feel some funny juices stirring. I think I may be able to be funny again. All this crying has me drained, but I’m hopeful of that much.
addendum: Sneak Peak Of Today’s Search Term Hits
|3d animation avengers||1|
|hulk hairy bear||1|
|site:wordpress.com five stages grief||1|
|what if all the guys pose as girls in avengers||1|
|i dont give a damn what you think i do this for me so fuck the world||1|
|avengers why dont males pose like males||1|
|Other search terms||10|
|Unknown search terms||6|
|Total search terms||21|
Why don’t males pose like males? What the fuck? ugggh. Fail kid. FAIL. The one before that one made me laugh though: “i dont give a damn what you think i do this for me so fuck the world”. Yep, you said it how it is. Damn straight kid. And another hairy Hulk search? I’m not even going to comment. Woops, just did.
addendum 2: Anyone get to see Venus? I sure as hell didn’t. I had to go online today to see Venus. Yesterday, I went outside and there were too many trees in the way. I’d gone to get the mail and found my book was there (read above!), and on my way back, I poked holes on those mailer advertisement mags, put on my fly aviator glasses and just stood there for about fifteen minutes like an idiot trying to find little Venus. Little Luna was next to me huffing and puffing but Little Venus was hiding behind leaves, just messing with me while two kids on bikes stared at me like I was crazy. hahah. Little do they know. Little do they know…