Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder

Corporate Peon has had her blog accessed by someone she'd rather didn't. Suck suck suck. Although I seldom have anything of interest to say, I still like having the option of saying it. That's why I don't mention to anyone that I even *have* a blog. Blog? What's that? Even in a close relationship (like that's an issue right now), I wouldn't reveal it. I still need my space. If anyone found it accidentally -- deny, deny deny.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 7:23 PM 0 comments

Went to Ulta tonight and tried on some perfume. Now, I have a weird body chemistry that I inherited from my mom, where any perfume I apply morphs into a scent my mother charmingly calls "tom cat." Tonight was no exception. Why, why do I keep doing that? The car was so gross on the way home that I had to crack a window, and I've got a headache. Once I got to the school, I used some of the old-fashioned powder soap, which is Ajax for all I know, and scrubbed my wrists, but it hasn't seemed to help.

Ceramics was good the other day; I was there about five hours and was really pleased with how the project turned out. Nothing quite as satisfying as a good creative day.

Meow, if you think I was bad to my phone SIM, you ain't seen nuthin'! I had the first version of The Sims on my computer back in 2001, and I got so fed up with this one guy that I removed all his doors and windows, got rid of all his furniture to include his shower and toilet, and then set the game on fast-forward to watch him die, which happened after he wet himself and passed out on the floor a few times. When I showed my brother, with whom I was living at the time, he said, "that's just wrong."

Talking about wrong: Adult Diaper Sales Soar in China. Yick. Thanks John.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 10:50 PM 0 comments

Creative writing class was good. I wasn't even late. I think the professor rocks; he has a refreshing lack of ego. It's going to be challenging. I think it'll teach me a lot.

Uh, what else. Oh, I didn't dig The New World. Too many long (albeit beautiful) shots of the scenery, lingering closeups of profound emotion, and thoughtful voice-overs. A self-conscious affair.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 5:16 PM 0 comments

Friday, January 20, 2006, 12:37 PM

I actually feel somewhat refreshed this morning, which is very unusual for me. I slept like a log. Yesterday I had to haul a 25-pound block of clay to the studio the opposite end of the campus from where I park my car (which is in a residential area off-campus 'cause there's never any parking; next semester I'm not going to bother buying a $120 parking permit). Call me a weakling, but that 25 pounds got heavy fast. I had to take several breaks and I was huffing and puffing, garnering some looks. Today my shoulders are killing me (I need to start working out again).

Anyway, ceramics class was good. I was just blissing out, doing my thing. Of course, being a beginning class, we started on pinch-pots, but I don't look down my nose at pinch-pots because they can be tricky and also good vehicles. I've got spheres on my mind from seeing pictures of thrown spheres, so I glued two pinch-pots together and then polished the surface until it was as smooth as I could get it. Hopefully, once it's fired it'll be something you want to pick up and hold. The teacher complimented me on it. There's a girl in there who, you can tell, is very competitive, and she was slightly shitty toward me. No big whoop. I tried to be pleasant towards her. I'm not competitive; I prefer to celebrate other people's successes. Plus, I recognize that just because I have more experience than others doesn't mean I'm a better artist or whatever.

I've got so much creative energy right now, so many ideas! That's not like me either. I want to make a form, using a sphere and rolled coils, to emulate a ball of yarn with needles stuck through it. I want to use pinch-pots to make chairs for my dolls. I need a set of bookends, which I'll make by slab building. Shit, there was something else and now I forgot.

Remembered. I wrote it down in a "journal" that I'll carry around with me.

Gotta get a move-on to get to the bookstore and buy my online algebra stuff.

Saturday, January 21, 2006, 4:02 PM

Playing the Sims on my phone. It's dumb. I'm trying to get my guy fired to see what happens. I've already had him killed by fire and by starvation. If you don't let him use the bathroom, he just wets himself; if you don't let him sleep, he passes out. Nothing seems to happen if you don't let him bathe and I couldn't make him die of loneliness either. This is after I've already done everything "right." The game doesn't seem to end after you achieve all the goals, it just says to get married and divorced, married and divorced. I'm done.

Monday, January 23, 2006, 12:48 PM

Happy Monday. If I don't take my Effexor, I could just lay down and sleep for a week. Had a hard time getting up and feel SO drugged and groggy. Well, thankfully I finally found my Effexor bottle, so it's just a matter of time before it starts to work. Got da heebie-jeebies. It seems that if I miss my meds, I get stuck in REM sleep all night and have those mini-series dreams. Nothing interesting this time, except maybe some highlights of my disdain for korporate Amerikana (some seminar or function where we had to listen to a bunch of blow-ass executives who were boring everyone to death but were so wrapped up in their egos they didn't notice). But upon awakening, it's as if I hadn't slept at all. And I'm wheezing. Bahhhhhh.

What does this remind you of?

Have my first creative writing class today at 2:30. It only meets on Mondays and last Monday was a holiday. Should be interesting. After that I've got knitting group. I was "supposed" to go to Michael's yesterday because they had a knitting event, but I didn't make it.

Bought a bra the other day at the Gap. Last month I bought a couple of their t-shirt bras, which I love, and got a coupon for $15 off my next purchase. You know that they bank upon you forgetting to use it. Well I used mine, hah. So, too, with those rebates for computer stuff. But I sent away for my rebate. They can't get one over on me! Anyway, I got a convertible bra that can go strapless or cross-back or whatever. Maybe this summer I'll wear a tank top or two. I simply cannot go braless, even though my boobs aren't that big, because I could put someone's eye out with my nipples and that's just nobody's business. All my bras are padded.

Something I've been meaning to write about is my lack of connection with others (have I already mentioned it? prolly). Sometimes within myself, I feel no love or connection with things that intellectually I know matter to me, like my cats for example. Sometimes I think that if they left me I wouldn't even care. But I know that's not true because later on I'd be flooded with regret and mourning. Like what happened with Bijou, that beautiful white kitty who followed me up to my apartment. I gave her to my neighbors, who took her to the Humane Society for a medical check, who found her HIV-positive and kept her in a cage to put her to sleep later. When I think of the fear and suffering that Bijou had to endure in the last hours of her life, it kills me, and it was my fault. And I don't trust the lab findings either, because my cats are the siblings of Bijou, although from a later litter, and they're HIV-negative. Bijou used to hang around with her aunt, who was deaf, and I think she kept a lookout for her, until animal control took the aunt away. Somehow Bijou escaped being caught but she was left all alone, and I know she sought me out specifically, even though I lived on the opposite end of the complex, quite a distance away. She was so weak from hunger she could hardly stand up, and once I started feeding her she waited for me to come home and after only a few days followed me up three flights of stairs to my apartment. I think it was remarkable because she was six months old and had been feral her whole life. Anyway, I know I told that story before.



I think it's why the plight of animals hurts me so, and why I cried at the King Kong movie, because nobody loves them just like nobody loved me.

I didn't mean to get into all that.

Aw fuck, I'm gonna be late.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 4:59 PM 1 comments

V., I know, right? For me, it's either the big city or the most remote country, and nothing in between. *dreaming*

I think I'm going to see The New World for its drool factor. Why the hell not?

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 4:04 PM 1 comments

I read parts of the ceramics textbook, which I had already since I've taken the course before, and I'm getting excited about ceramics (again). I want to be a potter! Sometimes I think that there's so much I want to do that I'll never have the time, like knitting, ceramics, writing, etc. Ideally, I'd like to have a ranch somewhere in New England where I raise sheep and/or llamas for their wool, having sheepdogs to help me. I'd do my own spinning and dyeing and knit up a storm. I also want my own art studio on the premesis, so that I can do my ceramics, doll art, or whatever else I'm up to. I also want to be a writer. *sigh*

Then there are days where I don't want to do a damn thing.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 9:12 PM 2 comments

Tuesday, January 17, 2006, 9:09 AM

The date/time stamp is generated by my macro, by the way.

I'm cranky. Cats won't eat the food I made a special trip for. Newman and Missy were determined, no matter how many times I told them no, to rifle though stuff in the bathroom, until I finally threw an empty yogurt jar (those Dannon DanActive things) at Newman, startling him. It's the first day of class, and wouldn't you know it the coffee stalled in the vaccuum brewer. I hate that. Last night I couldn't find my Effexor bottle. I'm not looking forward to going to campus an hour early just to find a parking space, and I'm not looking forward to ceramics class either, which is the class I fucked up big time last year when I was dating Eduard and he kept me up all night so that I couldn't get up in the morning, and plus borrowed my car and kept it for several days so that I couldn't go to school. Charming guy. Anyway, it'll be a different instructor but it'll still be emparrassing to walk in there. Also anticipating wrestling for a computer somewhere on campus. GAWD. Really cranky.

That high school person who was my best friend who contacted me through Classmates.com read my reply to her and hasn't written back. Did she want to talk to me or not? WHATever. I'm not awaiting with baited breath.

Sigh.

Hey, I found a stray Effexor capsule in my purse! But I can't find my USB flash drive. Please, god, don't tell me I left it in the lab. Please, please.

Found it. Whew.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 11:14 AM 0 comments

According to MSNBC, about 50 people died in Saudi Arabia during the annual ritual of throwing stones at the devil. Apparently a stampede broke out when somebody tripped on luggage. That sounds like a poorly conceived punch line, but it actually happened. And it isn’t the first time. In 1990, 1,426 people died in a stampede while throwing
stones at the very same devil. (No word as to whether luggage was involved.) And
in 2004, the devil killed another 244 stone-throwers the same way. By my count,
the score is Devil 1,720 and Believers 0.

This is on the same day that the guy who shot John Paul II was freed.
Clearly, the devil is having a good day.

I think it’s interesting that when you pray to God for a new bike, it
hardly ever materializes in your bedroom within seconds. But when you throw
stones at the devil, quite often you get an immediate response. That’s an
example of good customer service.

--Scott Adams

I hate the way blogger always fucks up the quotes.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 7:42 PM 0 comments

Friday, January 13, 2006, 10:24 PM

Finished reading The English Patient. I'd read it before, around 1997 or whenever the movie came out, but I enjoyed it more this time. I guess I needed the distance from the movie, which in retrospect was unlike the book in several ways. I understand that film and writing are different mediums, blah blah blah. I remember being very moved by the tragedy in the film, but looking back it seems awfully melodramatic at the end. I dunno. Maybe I've just gotten over a lot of sentimentality, particularly when a story involves adultery. This time I didn't see the actors playing the characters, but rather as they were written, particularly Hana. She was leaner and harder than Juliet Binoche.

On to other news, holy shit my apartment. I'm so sick of it. Sick of it. Every day I say I'll clean it but I divert my attention to other things, like reading, knitting, running "errands," or playing The Sims on my cell phone. Or making jewelry for a doll new doll that didn't come equipped with any. I don't know what I'm so afraid of; I don't know what stops me. You know my feng shui must suck big time. I almost wish I could hire someone to help me, but I know it wouldn't help because it would be just as messy in a month and plus I wouldn't be able to find anything.

Already a little worried about what I'll write for creative writing class. My stuff tends to be too personal and autobiographical and I don't like revealing myself that way. Maybe I should stop being so self-absorbed and write about someone else for a change -- ha ha.

Oh, bought the coolest thing: a remote control for the floor lamp in my living room. Now I don't have to worry about that broken knob that keeps falling off. Cool!

Sunday, January 15, 2006, 3:05 PM

I re-read Breakfast at Tiffany's yesterday and today. I like the movie, but I regard the book and the movie as two separate entities; they're that dissimilar. Anyway, the book made me feel sad -- no Hollywood ending, of course. Holly Golightly reminded me of myself in many ways; like, the way she's searching for a place where she belongs, and how she said that she only realizes something belongs to her after she's thrown it away. She's got this emptiness inside her. It said in the text that she'd been molested as a child and that she had hallucinations of a "mean, fat woman." Wait, don't get me wrong, I don't have hallucinations. Geez Louise, like I need any more problems. But I mean, she had psychiatric troubles.

I watched Missy groom Newman so tenderly, and he had such a blissful expression on his face. I'm glad the cats have each other. They live with me because Missy was insistent upon following me that day two Septembers ago. Animals always seem to be following me. Like that one beautiful black cat that I called "Topaz" because of her eyes. I'd just gotten out of the corps, living by myself for the first time and lonely, and she followed me from the mailboxes to my apartment. After two weeks I was so wheezy that I couldn't function, and I had no health insurance to get asthma meds. Looking back, what I should have done was go to Tijuana to pick some up, but I didn't think of that then. Anyway, what I wound up doing was taking her to the city shelter, which I deemed kinder than dumping her back on the street. It hurt so bad that I cried hysterically the whole way, and seventeen years later I still try not to think about it. I don't know what happened to Topaz but I can only pray that she turned out alright. I feel such guilt about the whole thing. I guess what brought this to mind was the way Holly threw her cat out at the end of the book (didn't find it again like in the movie).

Animals must follow me because they can sense that I'm tender-hearted. I have to say that being tender-hearted hasn't been much of an advantage in this life so far. But, I have to trust that there's a reason for everything, even if I don't know what it is.

Got errands to run.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 7:01 PM 0 comments

I decided to try taking algebra via the internet rather than conventionally. That way, I negate the dread and effort of actually going to class. Let's see how it works out. It only cost $30 more for an internet class. I got the idea from a fellow English major, who said that the internet class was the only way she got past algebra. I need to put this hurdle behind me -- I'm sick of it.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 4:00 PM 0 comments

I forgot to write that I saw Memoirs of a Geisha last week and enjoyed it. Guess I didn't analyze it too much, but just took it at face value. Roger Ebert, who is usually fairly generous in his reviews, was scathing about this movie, saying it's just a pretty film about child prostitution.

Also saw King Kong, which, oddly enough, upset me to no end. I cried all the way home. I already knew how it ended, which is no secret. Maybe it was because King Kong's face in this movie was so expressive.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 10:23 PM 0 comments

Store guy: You want a baloney
sandwich or something?

Dude: Nah. The only time I eat
baloney is when I'm in the joint.

--Bodega, Williamsburg

Overheard by: Andy K.

I'd like to take the gift cards and swipe them down Mom's ass crack and see her spit out some cash. What the fuck was she thinking? --Lois Lane

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 9:57 PM 0 comments

Here's some zoo pics that I actually took last year, and with my handy-dandy new USB flash drive, it's easy to bring to school:















Balwearie wants to know what cool stuff I made with all my free time. Hahhhh! Hahhhhh! Hahahahahahhahhaha! Ahem, sorry. Awright, I did knit a cute little dress for Velvet that mimics the Movin Groovin' party dress:







It's not perfect, but it's okay, considering that it's my first lace-motif dress. What other firsts. Oh yeah, the first time I picked up stitches at the neckline and armholes to add on a collar and edgings. Of course it's see-through, so I have to sew a liner for the top, which is why the dress is still not finished.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 8:28 PM 2 comments

I guess I'm not the most technically savvy in the world. At the computer lab, the new computers no longer have zip drives. The guy at the desk said, "yeah, with USB keys so inexpensive now, there's no need for them." That was the first I'd ever heard of USB keys. Hello. Guess I'll have to get one. And I'd better not leave it in the lab!!

Met the bro, SIL and niece at the zoo and had a grand ol' time. It's a lot more fun with a kid there. We took some fun pictures, which I'll download at home since I don't have a USB key yet. 'Doh! We spent some time in the petting zoo, and as a result I now smell like a big goat. Bahhhhh!

Thank you, Sandy, for your comment! Yes, my upbringing was very painful indeed. I forget sometimes exactly how much of a burden I used to carry around with me daily: anxiety, fear, uncertainty, no self esteem, and did I mention fear? Slowly over the years, a lot of that has been relieved through therapy and whatnot. Not saying I'm "fixed." I'm doing alright, but I'll be the first to admit that I have difficulty establishing and maintaining relationships. I wouldn't say I have PTSD. I do have a lot of anger though. There's some residual fear, like a fear of risk-taking and such. But hell, I'm in school, so I guess I'm working on that! Anyway, thanks again Sandy.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 3:16 PM 1 comments

Well, hell, Happy New Year, everybody! I know it's been a while. Sometimes I run dry, y'know? And sometimes I get tired of bitching.

Spent about four days at my folks' house for Christmas. Awful as usual, maybe getting worse. My mother has taken to dumping her complaints about her husband onto me. I don't want to hear it!! But I always love seeing my dogs. Andy slept with me every night. My tweetie-pie, I could just pick him up and love the stuffing out of him.

New Year's Eve I went to Bro's house. Got to see Niecey, and SIL wasn't so bad either. I think she might have a hormonal problem. I'm supposed to meet them tomorrow at the zoo. At 10:00 in the morning! Is that barbaric or what?

Okay, remember me talking about the girl in high school, my best friend, who dumped me so cold? (And the scenario was repeated with my marriage, ironically enough, where I was dumped for someone "cooler," or better in some other way.) Well, she sent me email through Classmates.com. Coulda knocked me over with a feather. I'd been tempted to contact her but refused because I didn't feel it was my place as the "dumpee." So I dunno, just the fact that she sent me an email has lessened a lot of those stupid feelings I've been harboring all these years.

I've had a copy of Courage to Heal for a few years now, and I brought it out and read bits of it over the last couple of days. Made me really snippy and irritable. They're saying that I have to relive every instance of abuse, down to exactly what was happening and how I felt. Call me a coward, but no thanks.

Still, though, I managed to avoid utter depression over the holidays, which is good.

posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 10:35 PM 1 comments