Hi. I'm a non-smoker. Apparently.

SO yeah...still not smoking. Pisses me off. Want nothing more than a cigarette right now. I feel robbed by the fact that I didn't get to have that "last smoke" before quitting. It's like having sex with your significant other knowing you're going to break up the next day. One. Last. Time.

Fuck, I bitch about everything.

Whatthefuckever; that's why you love me. Or at least why you read me. I'm like a damn train wreck.

You can't. Look. Away.

Obsessed with the periods I am. It's my blog; I'll type annoyingly if I like.

Let's see - no news, really. My illness is better but not quite gone. I'm irritated and thankful all at the same time. I'm worried that when it no longer feels like I'm breathing under water, I'll try to smoke a cigarette, and this would all be time wasted and that makes no sense. If I haven't smoked a cig by now, I may as well keep it this way, regardless of how I got here. So I decided I'm going to "Use The Force" to keep me from smoking once I'm totally well.

Yes, as in, "Use the force, Luke" or "May the force be with you."

Dude! I totally believe in "The Force" so shut up.

ANYWAY - my plan is that I'm going to meditate (in my own, special way) and convince myself that no matter the circumstances, if, at any point in the future, I attempt to smoke a cigarette (and inhale), I will become horrifically, violently ill. I will choke, cough, gag, sputter, piss my pants, and risk possible accidental defecation - or at least possible "sharting." (When you click the link, read the very first quote on that page.)

I truly, truly believe that if I tell myself this, it will become fact. Or "fact" as my mind/body perceive it. Shit, I've told myself some fucked up stuff and believe THAT - so why not do the same thing with smoking? I believe I can convince myself of just about anything if I'm determined enough, and I've decided to be THAT determined about smoking cigs, so I don't have to go through this again.

Because smoking cigarettes is just fucked up and retarded, and we all know it - smokers and non-smokers alike. None of us can dispute the mountains of medical evidence proving that smoking will kill you - and if it doesn't kill you, it'll at least make you unbearably sick at some point. So is it worth it? My instinct here is to shout FUCK YEAH!!! til the cows come home, but logic has to take over on this one. I know damn well it's no good and no matter how good it tastes or how much it soothes me (under a variety of circumstances too numerous to mention) and makes me feel great - I know I must give it up.

As I told Chris the other day when she said, "Don't you want to smoke?" - Yes. YES I WANT TO SMOKE. I will want to smoke every single day of the rest of my life. I never want to quit. I fucking LOVE IT. It is an addiction I love and I hate to see it come to an end.

But come to an end it must.

May the force be with me.

Sick

As. A. Fucking. Dog.

This is lame. This is the second time I've been this sick in a year. It's lame because prior to these last two illnesses, I had been sick-free for a long, LONG time.

Symptoms:
- Coughing - As in "coughing up a fucking lung - someone get that lady a fucking oxygen tank."
- Sinuses are fucked up, but I swear that started AFTER the cough started.
- Slight fever - never went above 100.8, and mostly hovered around 99.6.
- Tired as a mo-fo, as in "put a mirror in front of her face to see if she's breathing!"

I believe in karma. I believe what comes around, goes around. I believe in spirits and ghosts. I believe in aura. I believe what we think, how we feel, our behavior, and who we surround ourselves with affect our health.

I believe there is a reason for my illness.

I believe I have to figure out (read: admit to myself) what is causing my illness.

I doubt it's something I'll talk about on this blog.

I believe I am in denial of my own stress. I believe as such, that I pretend it doesn't exist, because to be perfectly honest, I don't know how to deal with it.

On the upside, I'll probably be giving up smoking (cigarettes) again - I haven't been able to properly inhale (a cigarette; the pot has actually REDUCED my coughing and sinus trouble) in 2 days. Yeah. We'll see. (Uh, suffering a bit of overly-dramatic-because-I'm-sick fatalist thinking at the moment, and lulling myself into feeling like QUITE the failure so I think I'll head back to bed and debate whether I'm calling in sick tomorrow, again. Called in Friday; I'm sure my boss is pissed; is it worth the silent treatment? I hate my boss. Fuck, I hate my job. Suddenly, I realize these parenthesis should have ended long ago but I'm too self-loathing at the moment to give a flying fuck.)

blah blah blahdey fucking blah....i'm such an ASSOLE WHINER when i'm sick. so while i'm whining can i just say? i am GOD DAMN FUCKING TIRED of taking care of myself while i'm sick all the time. JUST FUCKING ONCE i'd like to be taken care of when i'm sick. FUCK. damn that's the hardest thing EVER to admit. assholes. everyone not being in love with me and marrying me and having a great life with me and fucking taking care of me while i'm sick is just a fucking ASSHOLE. fuckers. fuck off.

I got nothin'

"I got nothin'." That's a phrase I say a lot. It means, loosely, that I have no input, nothing to contribute to the conversation, or no idea who/what/why. I was trying to think of a title for this post, all I could think was, "I got nothin'."

So I went to breakfast with Vin last weekend. Because you know, that's what friends do. He told me that what it boils down to for him (why he won't be with me) is the money. His wife has money because her family has money. He has grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle (between his salary and her money), and it is more important to him to have money (and be "unhappy" - his word, not mine) than being with me and be happy but broke. If he left his marriage, 50% of his income would go to supporting his family. (I've heard from several divorced men with multiple children that this is the most the state of MN can take.) He obviously has no chance of decreasing that amount in a divorce settlement because of his affair with me, which his wife knows about. So rather than live on my full salary + half his salary, he's going to stay in his marriage. You know, "for now" anyway. (I make $30,000 annually - not saying this to brag, but to give you an idea what we're talkin' here...and his salary is nothing to sneeze at, either.)

I must say, that's the first time someone's ever said that to me. In past relationships, I've been the one with "money" - most of my ex's didn't work or had shitty minimum wage jobs and no car or ...whatever. Not that it ever mattered to me, I'm just saying - I doubt a single one of them would have ever said they couldn't be with me because I don't make enough money.

*shrug*

What can I say to that? I disagree with his decision, but I understand it. We're just totally different that way, and apparently for him, it's a deal breaker.

Fucking whatever!!!!!

Okayyyyy...

Somehow, I find it pretty hard to believe I managed to blog last night. Hi! Drunk much?? Ummmm....yeah.

Today is Jake's birthday; he turned 10. There's another thing I find hard to believe - that 10 whole years have passed. It seems like a million years ago and it seems like yesterday. I remember how sickeningly hot it was. (Being a Midwestern girl, I had no clue the East Coast could be THAT hot in July.) I remember being induced into labor. Being drugged up. Being alone - just me and some doctors and nurses. I remember how scared I was before I had him. Scared of what labor was going to be like. Scared of whether or not I was strong enough to do it. Scared of what it would be like to hand him to the beautiful couple I chose to raise him. Right after he was born, they asked me if I wanted to hold him. I asked if he had two arms, two legs, 10 fingers and 10 toes. They said yes. I said, "Then I don't need to hold him to know he's alright." They understood.

I believed at the time (and still do) that there is a special bonding that happens between a mother and her baby in the moments after he's born, and I couldn't risk what might have happened if I'd held him just then. I knew I had to let him go, and I believed (and still do) that if I held him, that bond might have tried to overpower my decision to give him a better life than what I could provide.

I've talked about the guilt before, so there's no need to rehash. It's subsiding and changing the way things do over time.

I normally get pictures and a letter from his parents this time of year; they haven't come yet. My moving probably screwed things up (I think the post office only forwards for like 3 months or something) and I haven't found the paperwork I need in order to contact the agency's office and give them my new address.

Timmy (Jake's dad) was disappointed today when I saw him - he was hoping the pics would have been here by now, too. (Incidentally, Timmy and his wife and kids are my best friends/neighbors that recently moved out of my apartment building.) I like that we're still close (emotionally) and that he understands it's important for me to see him on Jake's birthday. (The only year he REALLY fucked it up was when Jake turned 4 - he picked that day to tell me he'd asked his now wife to marry him. Let's just say he regretted that move.) But I digress. (What? Me?)

I believe Jake is a happy, healthy, beautiful kid, and I know he's where he should be. I hope his birthday is filled with all the joy a 10 year old kid can have on a hot July day. I'm thinking of him today, as always...my heart bursting with love.

It's never just one thing...

Have you ever noticed? It's never just ONE thing going on? It's got to be like this: Work is fucked up
Love life fucked up
Home life fucked up

It's fucking ridiculous. It's never just one thing at a time. It's got to be everything all at once. Pisses me right the fuck off.

Yeah, maybe I'm drunk. Whatever. I deserve to lose control every once in a while. Fuck, everthing is fucked up anyway, I might as well join in.

Here's what I'm thankful for: happy home life, with the exception of the fact that my best friends/neighbors moved out last weekend. OR a weekend ago. Whatever. I mean, my roommate rules, seriously. But we work some pretty opposit hours and I'm home alone a lot which leaves a lot of alone time w/out my neighbors/friends and that is not so much so good.

Fuck.

All I'm saying is, why can't it ever just be one thing at a time, you know, so we could, like, handle shit, and shit.

Okay, I have to go. I have the hiccups and the roomie is taking drunk pics of me so I gotta go.

Kisses, if I could get any.