fall

When the going gets tough, May gets busy trying not to think so much, and certainly not to feel so much. That leaves me in a visual world, so I get my camera out and try only to see.

a good reason to call it a night

I had a terrible day. Terrible. Things kept going wrong. I can survive that, but I'm not so good at survivng the things that happen as a direct result of someone intending to make me feel bad.

Two of those in one day. Three, really.

Why do I insist on surviving? Not even I know the answer.

In all of my 500+ posts, I've never come out and said what my plan is if I decide to call it a life. Apparently, if you articulate something like that, you can go to jail. Ha! I would claim it was an artistic expression of creative writing.

My plan requires certain conditions. See, I wouldn't want to die in my house or in my car because that would be unpleasant for Frank. I wouldn't ever wreck the car because that would be a waste of a perfectly good car. I would never jump in front of a car because I couldn't possibly risk damage to someone's vehicle or safety. Why make the day miserable for someone who was innocently driving along?

I hate guns and I won't have one in my home, so that's out. I don't want to look gruesome, and my goal these days is to get out of pain, so no hanging, shooting, or cutting.

This is what I came up with. It would need to be very, very cold outside. I would deeply sedate myself to the point of overdose and then go outside and lie down on the ground. I would probably spread out a plastic tarp and lie on top of that so I wouldn't stick to the ground and it would be a lot easier to move my body after the fact.

Giving this further thought, I would probably tape a note to the door telling Frank not to come outside, but to just call the police.

The cold weather and cold ground are key to this plan. Use medication to slow the heart rate, and then utilize nature to induce hypothermia. Use a tarp, don't make a mess, be considerate.

No need to squirm. It's going to be 85 degrees tomorrow.

That's so Frank

Frank is the greatest admirer of his own home improvement projects. His latest might push me over the edge.

Our house has an internal bathroom--it's located in the exact center of the house. The room is extremely small, a condition made more obvious because the location means it is windowless and dark if the light isn't switched on. The bathroom itself was hideously ugly when we bought the house. The ceramic tile on the walls was a mustard-gold speckle on an off-white background. The toilet was gold and had a plastic tank. The sink was old, faux ceramic with glittery gold streaks blended among brown swirls. The vanity was stapled together and listing to one side. The walls may have been white at one time, and they were embellished with a pink floral Victorian-themed wallpaper border along the top edge. The floor was covered with roll-out vinyl faux tile that had become torn and curled up at the edges of the room. Apparently, no one had remembered to buy the adhesive. (That is not our bathroom in the picture, although the glow looks familiar.)

I designed an extensive makeover that included soft gold paint on the walls, a new, nearly silent fan, new light fixture, new power-flush toilet, a gorgeous wood vanity with a sink that sort of swoops forward, and the floor is 12-inch travertine marble tiles. We couldn't afford to swap out the wall tile, the shower surround or the gold tub, but once the room was painted and we installed a sage-green shower curtain, a green painted cabinet, and sage green towels, everything worked together incredibly well. The room is sophisticated and attractive despite its small size. But it's dark.

Maybe what happened next is really my fault. I commented that I wished there were a way to brighten up the shower area because it was really too dark for activities like leg shaving (which I only need to do about five times a year, anyway). I said, "Wouldn't it be awesome to have a skylight in here?"

This put in motion a four-year odyssey of Frank relentlessly researching skylights and calcuating the ways one could be installed, given several structural challenges. Eventually, we decided that a sun tunnel would be the way to go. Of course, which one to buy required another two years of research. Frank debated the pros and cons of different sizes and tube finishes--merely silvery or full-on mirrored?

I weighed in with my opinion: "Buy the biggest one that will fit between the ceiling joists." And so he did, but only after concluding that the skylight would fit only over the tub, above the end opposite the faucet. It would be like having an overhead light in the otherwise dimly lit shower.

Eight or nine months after all of the components were purchased, Frank finally installed the skylight. It is pretty fabulous. The entire room is illuminated and bathed in a soft, sunny glow. In the tub itself, there is actual sun glare on the porcelain. Of course, Frank scrubbed the tub after finishing the installation specifically to garner this result. He's very proud of his work, I can tell. I keep finding him in the bathroom, just standing there, looking up at the ceiling and admiring the installation.

For five years, I have always made a point of closing the shower curtain before leaving the bathroom in the morning. When I lived alone, this wasn't a big issue for me, but Frank likes the way it looks, and he really is his mother's son in so many ways. I have learned to conform to the shower curtain arrangement.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I found the shower curtain pushed into the center of the rod every time I entered the bathroom. I push it the length of the rod, I come back and it's clumped at the center. It's like living with a defiant ghost who has fixated on sage green crinkly satin.

"Frank, what's up with the shower curtain? Are you still gluing or something in there?"

Frank looked at me and blinked. "Nooo. The curtain is too dark. It hides the light. Maybe we should get glass doors instead."

His words struck fear into my heart. I grew up with sliding glass shower doors in a house that had water so hard it would knock on your head when you took a shower. Glass doors were a nightmare to clean, and although cleaning chemicals have evolved since then, I can't imagine cleaning the glass is that much easier. Minerals are an economic anchor in this state and that is reflected in the water.

I glanced in the bathroom. The door was not only wide open, but pushed as far open as the laws of physics would allow. The hallway was bathed in the soft light spilling from the bathroom. "Frank, the shower curtain is not inhibiting the light. It's like a sunny day in there. You could tan or get caught up on your daily dose of vitamin D just by going in there to pee. Stop it with the shower curtain."

Today I noticed the Bed, Bath & Beyond flyer was opened on the kitchen counter. Shower curtains. Pale, floaty fabric shower curtains. They do not match the color scheme. They do not afford much privacy.

Frank. The skylight is lovely and the bathroom is great just the way it is. Back away from the 20% off coupon. Now.

It's that time

Now entering the danger zone known as fall. Cooling weather, shorter days, more work, fitful sleep, and dark, dark mornings.

Every year, I am sure I won't survive it. This year is no exception. I've been told I'm resilient.

Maybe so. Time will tell.

Me duelen los pies. Pasé diez horas en pie después de una semana de dias de trabajo de 12 o 14 horas.

Necesito una copa de vino y un día de sueño.

No title

Longing for something
Wishing to see true beauty
My eyes need a rest.

My thoughts exactly

Dear God
Hope you got the letter and...
I pray you can make it better down here
I don't mean a big reduction in the price of beer
But all the people that you made in your image
See them starving on their feet
Cause they don't get enough to eat
From God

I can't believe in you

Dear God
Sorry to disturb you but...
I feel that I should be heard loud and clear
We all need a big reduction
In the amount of tears
And all the people that you made in your image
See them fighting in the street
Cause they can't make opinions meet about God

I can't believe in you

Did you make disease
and the diamond blue?
Did you make mankind
after we made you?
And the devil too?

Dear God,
Don't know if you noticed but...
Your name is on a lot of quotes in this book
And as crazy humans wrote it
you should take a look
And all the people that you made in your image
Still believeing that junk is true
Well I know it ain't and so do you, dear God

I can't believe in
I don't believe in
I won't believe in heaven and hell
no saints no sinners no devil as well
no pearly gate no thorny crown
you're always letting us humans down
the wars you bring
the babes you drown
those lost at sea and never found
and it's all the same the whole world round
the hurt I see helps to compound
That Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
is just somebody's unholy hoax
And if you're up there you'd perceive
That my heart's here upon my sleeve

If there's one thing I don't believe in...
It's you, dear God.

--Andy Partridge, XTC

Clarity at post #500

It came to me in the car. Suddenly, the future was no longer dark and hazy. What I needed to do seemed so clear and so doable. I just needed a plan--a real one, not a collection of abstract thoughts and possibilities.

The plan formulated itself in my brain before I finished my commute. Clarity. The plan, the things I need to do, no longer overwhelm me.

Before I can achieve true freedom, there is some work to be done, some personal housekeeping. I can do it. I will do it.

My options will have no barriers.

Focus.

Destiny.

Release.

I can see it so clearly.

I am ready now.

It's not shiny--it's brilliant!

This is jewelry I would buy, but then I'd have to explain it to people who wouldn't understand anyway. But it is pretty awesome!

It's the Seratonin necklace from the Molecule Jewelry Collection.

Click here to see the full details.

But, but, but...

Wherein May screams...

WHAT THE FUCK?

When I forgo niceties so I can shell out $200 for a pair of tickets to a show I waited months to see, I expect to see the show in its entirety, not with the last half-hour (of a two-hour performance) omitted. ESPECIALLY WITHOUT EXPLANATION OR APOLOGY.

I thought Frank was going to cry, I really did. I can't remember the last time he looked so sad. The parts he had specifically wanted to see never happened.

Wow. Wow. Wow.

AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

And that's all I can say without revealing too much about myself.

Whining email to Jolie

Many, many thoughts rolling around in my head. I'm coming to terms with some things, and that kind of transition is never easy.

• I will never feel better. This is as good as it's going to get emotionally and physically. This is a disappointing substitution for wellness.
  
• I am apparently incapable of experiencing happiness (although I still can appreciate some humor).
  
• I struggle to be who I need to be.
  
• I lead a painfully boring life, but I have neither the energy nor the means to change it.
  
• My best work is behind me.
  
• My best ideas have already come and gone.
  
• My best days have passed.
  
• I've done whatever it is I was going to do
  
• My sense of compassion is shrinking a little more each day. It was my last redeeming personal trait.
  
• I rarely do anything right or as well as it should be done.
  
• I don't have much to offer anymore--I think I passed my "use by" date.

So, what I have left is the hard work of maintaining the appearance of worth. I have to work to pay off my debts and that means being cordial or possibly even pleasant toward people I can't stand. I need to sort through the physical clutter in my world so I can put my past away for good. Photos, boxes of papers, cards, notes, junk and all of the other things taking up space in my world need to be managed. I should really sell my bikes. Frank has waited long enough for me to come to terms with that part of my life.

My disengagement and need to clean up are the same at work as at home.

Sometimes I imagine leaving--just leaving--but not starting over. Not starting something new. It's more like wanting to downsize. Just me, bare necessities, living someplace isolated and needing only enough money to keep the car running and to have some food in the very small house. (I would call it a cottage, but that sounds pretentious.) Nobody would be able to find me or contact me. I think this is what my life needs to be.

If I can live in a situation where I have no expectations and no one has any expectations of me, that would be ideal (unless it's prison).

ready to pop

So many thoughts...the Brainucopia is bloated but without the ability to push those thoughts into well-formed phrases. It's uncomfortable. Mental constipation.