Considering the only "musical instrument" I'm proficient in is my own voice, I would have to join up with a group whose hallmark is the spectacular quality of its vocalists, so I would have to answer with ABBA.  They had such an exciting run when they existed -- years and years of participating in disparate musical ensembles in their native Sweden before uniting both professionally and personally as ABBA, being discovered when they participated in that famous 1974 Eurovision in Brighton, England (I believe?) and WON it, spending all that time in the limelight and seeing their music sell so incredibly well throughout the world, etc. -- that to have been a part of it must have been profoundly life altering.  I remember watching an ABBA documentary several years ago on the old Ovation TV and harmonizing my heart out whenever they went to performance footage and recognizing that they were a huge testament to the amazing amounts of work that it took to sound as good as they did.  Their voices were just so crystal clear and gorgeous and lush and even though their clumsily accented English sounded a little odd to native speaking ears, the artistry of their vocal excellence always shines through.

Er, can you tell that I'm a bit of a voice fiend and good vocals excite me?  I can't help it; as a trained choral singer whose not-so-secret aspiration is to sing opera at the level of the magnificent Montserrat Caballe, vocals that elevate the art of singing to another level touch me at the very core of my being and that's precisely what Anna-Frid's and Agnetha's vocals do for me.  Even Benny and Bjorn worked hard at creating harmonies that were adequate enough for their two star female singers.  And to have been like that -- to have been *that* -- would've been the ultimate in musical actualization for me.

Short answer this time:  Get married.

I consider getting married the ultimate in romantic acheivements, and romance the one area in my life that has proven to be by far the most difficult one for me to find any sort of success with.  To me, getting married would be a much bigger accomplishment than earning a Ph.D. or becoming a multimillionaire, because I know I have the academic capacity and drive to earn that Ph.D. or to become that wealthy.  That's been proven already for me in the past.  But romance?  I have failed so many times in that sense that even when I was a teenager I felt like it'd be more worth my while to plan in my head my ideal funeral service than for a wedding.  So the day I get married would be the day I'd feel like I'd finally acheived the impossible.  And if I ever got to that point, I wouldn't fear death, because I'd know I'd gotten to accomplish the one thing I'd thought I'd never do.

Musical taste is something that's so important to me that I don't think I could abide by even being friends with someone whose tastes in music I would deem "horrific".  I could see befriending someone whose musical tastes aren't exactly what I would go for but that I might be able to *respect* (as is the case with a friend of mine who is a big country music fan -- I'm not particularly keen on country, but he's taught me how to respect its artistry immensely), but as far as someone whom I would want to spend the rest of my life with, it would have to be someone whose musical tastes are within the same neighborhood as mine.

I acknowledge that my own musical tastes are rather unorthodox in comparison to the societal mean or "average"; I tend to gravitate more toward the obscure or things from different generations and generally look down at what would be considered Top 40 music (or "music" as I'm tempted to put), but I feel like I could find a harmonic unity with a great many people whom I would also find unity with on other substantive things such as personal ideologies and philosophies.  I also acknowledge that my musical history is rather unique and might provide a window into why my musical tastes at present are as "unusual" as some might consider; to me, bands such as Three Dog Night and The Mamas and the Papas evoke warm, nursery-originating feelings similar to those someone else might feel upon embrancing their favorite "blankie", and I created my own musical base using similar classic '60s and early '70s musical artists that I remember latching onto while listening to the music my parents listened to during my '80s early childhood.  This is why I despair at the thought of the children of today getting introduced to such musical rubbish as Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers; I feel like they're getting such a shoddy base for their future musical lives, similar to a home builder using Play Doh to create the foundation for a 2,000 square foot single family home, or a child being fed a continual stream of junk food throughout their early childhood instead of wholesome real meals.  I think and fear these children are definitely going to contribute to the continual decay of popular music and feel like their parents should be reported for doing such a disservice to their children by depriving them of anything musically nutritious.

Anyway.

Going back to my own tastes, I feel like those are such that my hero in that regard is really the late, much missed John Peel; Peel was a BBC Radio 1 DJ who spent the whole of his broadcasting life engaged in the search for the new, obscure, innovative, and exciting.  He highlighted so many unsigned, unsung bands and artists on his program and his biggest triumph was getting the career of one David Bowie started.  Considering how many musical artists have since been inspired by Bowie, it means Peel pretty much changed the landscape of British popular music for a long, long stretch of time.  Also, I really like how he championed such worthy artists as The Fall, The Cure, The Scars, and so many amazing artists from the 1970s and '80s whose music feeds my musical soul.  If I were ever fortunate enough to score my own radio program[me], I'd want to do something similar to what John Peel did.  And I would want the man I'd share my life with to have Peel's musical spirit within him much, much, MUCH more than I'd want him to have a certain physical "look" or earn a certain amount of money.

There you are, long answer and all.

I would love to do this to see if my theory about the afterlife holds true.  My theory is as follows:  You go into a state of being that is forever tranquil, serene, and complication-free, that also provides you with your ideal way of living at the time you passed away, and you're also able to live an existence filled with the things that you were denied when you were on this plane of existence.  If this holds true, my afterlife will consist of my living in the ideal version of London, in what the British Hello! would call a "sumptuously appointed City townhome" akin to the one Jean Pargetter (of "As Time Goes By") lived in, where I get to live an exciting, fast paced life with many, many friends, many opportunities for quiet creativity, and all the romantic love I could ever wish for.  I wouldn't have to take a single pill in order to make me feel of normal health, I could drink and eat whatever I wanted, there would be plenty of pleasantly drizzly days and lots of the famous London fog, I could get everywhere I wanted to go either by taxi (those official black ones with the cabbies who've taken the Knowledge!) or the Underground, I could get away every once in awhile via train to the British countryside (thinking of something akin to rural Gloucestershire), where I can spend quiet weekends retreating to regain my center, and I could visit every single person who's meant a great deal to me in my past, from my dad (v. important) to my old AP US History teacher.

Course, I might never want to come back, though I just might considering the fact that there are at least a couple of people on this plane of existence whom I know would be distraught at my passing and I would hate for them to feel in any way even remotely sad, so I'd be beholden to them to come back.  Though I might be reluctant at coming back so quickly -- I might bargain for a few days in my personal paradise before I can come back to the level of existence I view as our "hell".

Some personal late night admissions about my own views on the "late night" time period:

1.  I feel really uneasy about the world outside when it's dark and the middle of the night, as it is right now; I feel so ill at ease, in fact, that all the blinds in my bedroom have to be tightly shut in order for me to feel comfortable enough to lie down and fall asleep.

2.  I also feel sympathetic toward those parts of my home that have to remain outside at night, e.g. the trash can, recycling can, mailbox, etc.  I imagine this is partly being overprotective and partly a sort of anthropomorphizing these inanimate objects, giving them human-like personalities and imagining how terrified *I'd* be if I had to root myself outside throughout the night.

3.  I suspect that it's a good thing that I've never been out camping because of this terror of the night, because I simply cannot imagine going out in the middle of nowhere, particularly if I were alone or with just one other person, pitching a flimsy fabric tent, and having *that* be my protective barrier against the "dangers" of the night, even though those I'd imagine would truly be perceived instead of real.

4.  I was trying to think of how I might handle something like a pub crawl and then thought of this:  If I'm out in the middle of the night and it's a bustling city center with tons of open businesses, people going around, and lots and lots of lights, then I'd be okay with being out because I'd know that the dangers of that time period would be grossly overstated.  Same would go for being at a busy restaurant in the middle of the night, then traveling down a thoroughfare where there would be more than a few cars and other 24-hour businesses located throughout.

5.  I therefore think my queasiness about the middle of the night stems from a desire for me to feel as safe as humanly possible.  I would rather not get kidnapped and/or murdered and would like to stay as far away from that possibility as possible.

6.  I know logically that my chances for either are rather slim because I don't engage in any high-risk behaviors, nor do I regularly put myself in harm's way, nor am I one of the weakest of society that the murderers of the world prey upon.  But I do know that I am a member of a household without males and, as the only able-bodied member of said household, I feel like I'm most vulnerable to this possibility (due to my being the defender of the house by default).

7.  I also know that we have iron gates and window guards anywhere we could put one and deadbolts on all the doors that lead outside.  I know we're not an "easy" mark because of that and because our corner house features a bright street light right on our side of the corner.  I know that burglars, murderers, etc., would try to find an easier house to get into.  Still, I always think of the possibilities and how terrifying they'd be.

8.  I haven't just recently developed this fear.  When I was little, I never believed in bogeymen hiding in closets or underneath my bed, and I was never afraid of the idea of ghosts or monsters because they simply didn't scare me.  What I was afraid of, though, were the criminals I kept hearing about on the news -- all the burglars, kidnappers, rapists, and murderers whom I feared would come in via the alley in the back of our house, climb the fence, bang down the back-facing window in my bedroom, hurry to my parents' bedroom, kill them, then take me away to do God knows what (though murder was always on the back of my mind there).

9.  I used to think during those times that the two bright shining orbs that I used to see floating around in the hallway that faced my bedroom were ghosts sent from the afterlife to protect me and my family, and if I concentrated on them they would shield all of us from harm.  That's how I would go to sleep on those nights when I was too terrified to be anything other than awake.

10. I should really end this entry right now, seeing as though it's really early in the morning/late at night and I need to be up early.  (Federal holiday, schmederal holiday.)

I am the least crafty person in the world, but when a need arose for a certain thing, I found after fussing around a bit that I could in fact create something from nothing!  I decided to dedicate this latest entry to the steps I took to create this item, and pass along a photo of what the finished product should look like.

I've noticed that there have been times when I've had a CD or DVD in my collection that's in need of something to put it in.  Instead of keeping these CDs/DVDs exposed to the elements (if you will), I've discovered that I can actually make a "pocket" with things that I already have around that serves really well for helping me store those (mostly homemade) DVDs/CDs.

1.  Take a regulation-sized (8.5" x 11") piece of college ruled paper out of a notebook (one with perforated edges that tear neatly away) filled with such paper.  Tear the jagged portion neatly away from the rest of the paper.

2.  Count 17 lines up from the bottom of the paper.  Fold that part evenly up and make sure to make a sharp crease.

3.  Take the top edge of the paper and fold it to meet up with the third line originally from the bottom (but folded to the top); fold the flap evenly over the bottom part and make another sharp crease.

4.  Take a glue stick and spread the glue liberally underneath this top flap; join the top flap to the bottom and press down hard throughout the joined area.

5.  Turn the paper around and evenly fold up the bottom part of the paper 9 cm over the top part of the paper, thus creating a large pocket on top and a smaller pocket at the bottom.  Make another sharp crease.

6.  Take the glue stick and spread the glue liberally over the surface to the back of the small pocket you've just made; join the small pocket to the bottom and press down hard throughout the joined area, making sure there is glue throughout the joined surface.

7.  Let the pocket set for a few minutes.  Then, write on the top pocket the title of the CD(s)/DVD(s) and a short description of its contents on the front.

8.  You can use the larger pocket to store a CD or DVD and the smaller one to store an index card with the exact contents of the CD/DVD, or you could store another CD/DVD in the smaller pocket.

If you're storing the CD or DVD on a flat surface, just leave it as is; if you're planning to transport it, however, make sure to take the second CD/DVD out of the smaller pocket and insert a flat piece of cotton gauze (usually known as cotton dressing or all purpose dressing and found in the first aid aisle of any supermarket or pharmacy) on the back side of the CD/DVD in the large pocket; that way the CD/DVD won't scratch while in transit.  Then place the pocket in a sandwich-sized plastic baggie and, if you're traveling or moving with it, place it in the middle of your underwear or sweaters to add extra cushioning.

And here's what the finished product looks like:

Earlier in the evening (well, last night anyway), my mom resolved to finish the last of the second bottle of port I'd purchased for her for her birthday almost a month ago, so I served her a huge serving of wine in a wine glass and served myself a smaller but still rather substantial portion of wine in another glass for me. I then proceeded to fall asleep for a number of hours and hurry to make the most of the chat time available for the evening before retiring to bed and the dauntingly (to me anyway) large glass of wine awaiting my consumption. I have just now finished the glass and am feeling slightly giddy. This is my experiment in typing while buzzed to see what comes out.

First of all, I feel like there's a very sort of acid-y sort of feeling deep inside the very pit of me. I guess that's just my stomach juices trying to digest the highly acidic wine and trying to figure out what to do with the alcohol contained in the wine, since I so rarely drink anything alcoholic. I also feel like there's a very distinct sort of burning sensation in the center of my torso, but not to the point where it'd really worry me, more like if someone built a bonfire and I'm warming my chest over it. Ugh, the sour sensation from my stomach is radiating up through my throat and making my tastebuds recoil. Speaking of, my tastebuds feel like I've just sucked down several lemons, with the result in my stomach and esophagus being much the same. And finally, my limbs feel a bit on the floppy side, though my arms also feel remarkably toasty warm for their being covered only with a very thin, flimsy sort of cotton (that my pajamas are made of).

I was in a really bad place this past December, which is why I didn't really put anything into this LJ. There are time periods when I am so paralyzed by my demons that everyhing, including any little bits of my creativity, suffer. I don't really want to get into too much detail what the month entailed, but I can truly say that it was the first time in many years when the demons inside me really appeared to be winning. But then as the month closed out, I kinda felt like the demons released me in a way they hadn't released me before, to where I didn't really have as much of a problem with them as I do even in the better (vs. "best") of times. We shall see whether those demons have a resurgence, but it is my hope that I do have as fantastic a January as my December was horrible.

There is so much I need to share with this thing about my thoughts and my life but I can never seem to conjure up any of it at this time, when I'm typing up something for my little blog thingy. I don't know relaly what else to say, except for the possibility that I might have to switch journal providers if this popup business keeps up. I don't want to have to wade through an ad to add to my blog, so I might want to start looking into other blogging options, esp Blogger/Blogspot, where I can use my Google/Gmail account to try to set up a blog. And knowing Google, the most obtrusive (that even the right word?) ad they'll offer up is a couple of links toward the top of the page, both text-based. I have had a Gmail account for at least 4 or 5 years and never have I ever had a problem with the very subtle advertising it carries up at the top of each screen; in fact, sometimes it pops up with really interesting articles, such as the one that announced that Spandau Ballet was reforming. That came as a shock, as one might imagine considering the band's court case past. Anyway.

Oh, I just had a brilliant idea! How about if you guys were to suggest blogging/journaling ideas for me? Heh, I put "you guys" as if I had more than just the one or two readers I actually have. But maybe you two might be able to combine your brains and come up with some ideas about what you'd like for me to write about and I could try to write about it. It'd be kinda like Momus and his Stars Forever album idea, except I'm not doing it so I can fund a court settlement from being sued. Or however the Wendy Carlos kerfluffle occurred. I don't feel like my brain at this point can give that story the proper attention so you'll just have to Google it. Anyway, if you have ideas, please bring them forth!

My God, I'm starting to feel the room spin. I feel like such a lightweight considering I consumed no more than two or three regular glasses' worth of wine. But considering the fact that I almost never touch alcohol and that perhaps I might be taking a prescription medication that intensifies the sensation one gets from alcohol (as well as the fact that it's about 4 o'clock in the morning), I suppose it isn't terribly out of the question for me to have the alcohol sensations intensified in myself. BTW, I felt ever so proud of myself when I finished that glass of wine, and somewhat emasculated (or whatever the feminine equivalent of that is) when I recalled the ease by which Mom consumed her own glass.

There are other thoughts and ideas bubbling away inside my head, things that I wish I could come out with, but I don't think I'm buzzed enough to where those can be unlocked. Just know that recently, i.e. sometime within the last 7 days, I had a terrible nightmare that drove me into this supremely desperate pit of insecurity that I am still finding difficult to emerge from. I guess the demons are still with me, except in different guises and now doing different things, and I swear to God that if I had the time and opportunities to I would be seeking out professional assistance for this. Maybe talk therapy will draw out from the very pit of me that which I am still reluctant to admit. Because I am seriously weighing the possibility of revealing more about this in this medium but am still trying to censor myself, suppressing those thoughts and ideas to where I can't really bring them out, even though I have the excuse of being able to wake up tomorrow morning and claim that I didn't really know what I was typing on about because, my God man, did you not see that I was tilting side to side from the unstabling effects of all that alcohol in my system?

But oh well, I'm still typing pretty well I think, though I have yet to truly look over what I've typed to see if there are any errors here. And now I feel desperate to crawl into bed and try to sleep this off, because I feel like the room is starting to spin. I am such a lightweight.

(Ooh, no popups -- maybe call off the journal migration?)

The demons are keeping me awake tonight. I am not strong enough to fend them off at this moment and so they are wreaking havoc with my psyche, telling me that I am never going to have the kind of life that I want for myself, I am never going to get what I want out of life, etc. I have been trying to deal with them as best I can but am not succeeding on my own. In fact, in my total solitude, with only the chores and errands of a typical Friday to "distract" me, I have found those voices ever louder and vastly more prominent in my self and it is completely wrecking me.

I wish I could accurately describe what kind of emotional pain these demons often visit upon me. I used to be so familiar with this pain and wished I could never experience it again, but feeling it again is rather strange, yet familiar at the same time. First off, there's the giant ache right in the center of my chest cavity, right where I presume my heart is. It's a radiant soreness that extends itself throughout my chest. Then there's a channel that goes between that pain and a secondary center of pain right in the middle of my throat that forces my breathing to be labored. Some of the pain here travels back and forth and exchanges itself with some of the pain in my chest, bouncing between each site like a basketball bouncing between hand and ground and intensifying the pain in each site. Then in my face, I feel all my muscles contract to where the corners of my lips are automatically pulled down and my foreheard furrows, and my eyes well up as tears fall freely down my cheeks. When my breathing is labored I am forced to leave my mouth open to where I'll emit silent little gasps. Often, one part of this feeds other parts, thus instituting a vicious cycle that leads to more and more pain felt in my chest and in my throat.

Then there's the psychic pains I experience, the thoughts that wound me and never let go. I can't stop thinking about how bitterly unfair and difficult life is and how it would be so much better if I weren't around anymore to feel the pain and constant disappointment of living, and how I'm never meant to have the kind of life that I really want to have, a settled life with a husband and a family of my own where I am content and only having to deal with the trivialities of life that the vast majority of people deal with (paying bills and keeping a household budget, e.g.), and how I'm fooling myself if I expect to ever live that kind of life.

I am not giving what I go through with these demons any amount of justice, I don't think. I think there's so much more to it than what I can describe in this medium and there's only so much that I can relate to another person about. But this is as best as I can describe it, and what I had to live with back in my high school days when I truly felt alone in the world, with no resources available to reach out and no one who really cared about me (my mom was too busy seeing me as a role fulfiller and trying to mold me into being a part of the mainstream and my dad too busy with his work duties to care) and I had to live with these demons day in and day out. They were most especially prevalent late at night, when the silence and stillness prevented me from having any distractions at all that would temporarily silence the demons' voices. I lost count of how many nights I laid in bed crying myself to sleep because of them and they are responsible for my attempting to end my own life no fewer than 4 times in the four years of high school when their voices were the most deafening. And now they're back, up to full strength again, and I don't know if I'm equipped to deal with them in an effective manner, and fear where this might lead to.

Oh yeah, my stomach's just reminded me that it gets tied up in knots when the demons take over and my head is reminding me of how it used to ache (a very dull ache, but an ache nonetheless) from the overload of negativity inside, and now my entire body feels weakened, tired, and sore. My God, the demons never really went away at all....

I honestly don't know how to tie up this month's experiment in posting once a day for NaBloPoMo (which I've been getting wrong all month). I know I started off the month fully intending in also participating in NaNoWriMo but you can see how much of a success *that* was (wheeee), and there were some evenings when I felt I wouldn't even be able to do this. I think my life is just a little too sardine-packed to really get away for the lengthy periods of time I'd need to spend somewhere where I could concentrate on what I was writing. I wish I could have the kind of lifestyle where I could dash out in the early evening to a coffee house, get myself a drink and a little something to snack on, have a laptop with me, and just start writing before going back home, eating a proper dinner, cleaning up, and luxuriating for the evening. That would be one of my ideal life situations.

I'll tell you what another ideal life situation could be -- I have two healthy parents whom I don't have to worry about, I can live on my own, go through all the attendant life milestones and rites of passage, I can forge my way through the battleground of love and romance, etc. In other words, just live for myself. And I know that's selfish, but I would really like to try living selfishly. I would also like to have looked back at my life up to date and not feel that I missed out on anything for some reason or another. It would be fantastic to know that I'd already done it all and was living a more responsible and stable kind of life as a homebody type because I was already past what I'd needed to be at this stage in my life. And I'm secretly worried that I'll never get a chance to catch up to those aspects of life because, try as I might, I cannot see how my present schedule will enable me to make room for such things.

I've also become more attuned to the exact personalities of my past demons and how much of an influence they still have over my life at this time since beginning this month's worth of blogging. Right now I'm familiarizing myself with the insecurities I feel about social groups and the situations whereby I'd be exposed to them and re-recognizing the mindset I'd thought I'd outgrown. Truth be told, I'm always disappointed with social situations because I always fear I'll be rejected by the group as a whole, or I'll be relegated to a tiny subpocket of the group where only the tiny minority of others who also belong to said subpocket will welcome me in. It's why I'll feel apologetic and/or regretful about my strong opinions, because I do have strong opinions that I do feel compelled to address, but I'm also aware of how they can alienate others and how awful I'd feel knowing that I've driven people away when all I really want is to finally feel accepted. I mean, I do feel fully accepted by a few individuals -- who can all be counted on one hand -- but insofar as a larger social group goes, I still have yet to feel that way. If I had to locate the safe harbor for this demon, I'd have to say it was my inner teenager who possesses it and keeps it inside me; much like how my inner child just wants to feel truly loved, my inner teenager wants to feel like she's accepted by some group.

The fact that I don't have many FB or LJ friends is the most tangible illustration of my inability to be welcomed by the group as a whole, because if I were then I'd have a lot more of both. I would like to be the kind of person who has 100 or more FB friends and at least 25 LJ friends, but I wonder if that will never be me, and if that's so then that would be another disappointing confirmation of my total failure in the social world. And I'm simply not comforted anymore by the idea that there are aspects of my being that others might want, because I know that already yet am still feeling that disappointment. Intelligence (the only such quality/trait I'm willing to concede I have) might be good in theory and it would be difficult for me to put myself in the situation of someone who'd enjoy mindless patter, but you can't populate a table at a restaurant with intelligence, nor can you make up a guest list with the same. And I'd like to feel like I have a proper place at the table or enough friends to list to fill a page. As crazy as that sounds. And I have tried to figure out what the great secret is to developing myself to that degree, but every time I think of or hear about any suggestions or ideas, they invariably do not work.

Thus ends the last entry for my NaBloPoMo trek to 30 posts in 30 days. It has been a learning process for me and I'm glad I participated in it. I'm also starting to feel this need to update my blog on a more regular basis than I was doing before this got started. If I can't strive for once a day, then once every other day would be a great idea. I think that's what I'll try to do for as long as I can do it. If anyone's actually been keeping up with what I've been writing, then thanks for showing that interest. I truly appreciate it.

(An experiment in blogging commences....)

11:30 AM: So I seem to have developed some virus or bug in the middle of the night. It all started because I felt off for some reason last night, and that prevented me from being able to get any sleep until almost 5:00 this morning. Then when I woke up at about 8:00 I felt like I had a huge ball stuck down my throat that I just couldn't swallow down, and when I thought it was due to dehydration and drank a lot of water to try to get rid of it, all the water came right back up. So I tried to get some more rest, not waking up until about 10:00 this morning (which is such a rarity for me). We had about four tamales left over from when I purchased some on Wednesday afternoon (on my way home from work) and I warmed two up for Mom before warming the other two for myself, along with some PG Tips (one Sweet & Low, one Equal, no milk) and the tea went down like sweet nectar and the tamales tasted delicious as I ate one little tiny morsel after another. I then called my doctor's after-hours line and was told to monitor the situation because it could be due to some viral thing going around, to continue drinking lots of hot liquids, to eat things I can easily swallow (I guess it's a good thing I wasn't planning on another Thanksgiving dinner tonight), take acetaminophen, and drop by for a visit tomorrow morning if I develop a fever.

4:30 PM: Now it's about 4:30 in the afternoon as I write this second bullet point and I'm back in my pajamas after slipping into regular attire to make an ATM run and pick up a few things at the nearby Walgreens. It appears as though my morning tea and a salt water gargle/rescue inhaler session have done some of the work necessary to get me feeling better again; though I'm still not feeling the way I usually do, at least I was able to eat a little turkey when putting those and the cornbread dressing leftovers away in bags. And man do I love turkey -- I've made up my mind that I could eat turkey as my exclusive source of protein and I'd only maybe on occasion miss bacon or a burger. Turkey = awesome. Also awesome is coming back to the world of '80s New Wave after spending God knows how long super-immersed in the world of '70s pop culture. It sounds new and fresh again in my ears and excites me again.

6:45 PM: I'm writing this later on in the day. There's a 20th anniversary episode of "America's Funniest Videos" that's reminding me of when my parents and I started watching the program together. I was still in lower grade school at the time and sported a very awkward-looking Dorothy Hamill pageboy hairdo that made my head look like a mushroom, wearing bright red glasses that I just had to have because Kellie Martin's character on "Life Goes On" wore a pair exactly like those, thought the acme of sardonic comedy was "The Golden Girls", just had my bedtime elongated by 30 minutes (from 9:00 to 9:30 at night) so that Dad and I could watch Showtime's "Brothers" reruns in syndication, I believe I was just starting to test the boundaries of what I felet I could listen to and enjoy by tuning into classic rock radio and found myself really enjoying Led Zeppelin, Fleetwood Mac, Supertramp, etc., I still wore a school uniform complete with a skirt with a plaid pattern (back then only the older and more "worldly" teens wore solid-colored skirts), and life was just about as different as can be from how it is now. It's phenomenal thinking of how so much has changed since then and difficult to reconcile that life with the life I live now. I wonder what I'll say about this 20 years from this point, when I'm looking back to the present.

I've noticed that I'm really starting to get into drinking PG Tips with one "pink packet" and one "blue packet". I'm going to have to buy more of them in the future because we're actually starting to experience Real Winter and it's finally cold enough now to where I can drink hot beverages and not feel like I'm being cooked from within immediately afterward. Best of all, it provides me with a level of alertness that I consider second to none. So thank goodness for this tea and for the ability to drink it afforded me by the weather outside. (Man this is a long and boring riff on the simple process of drinking tea. I am truly sorry about that.)

8:45 PM: Whatever's in my throat seems to be hanging around me. I'm probably going to have to go to the doctor's as soon as I get out of work tomorrow, if indeed work will have me. As there is even the slightest possibility of this being something to do with a viral infection, my colleagues might very well tell me that I should maybe not think about going in to work tomorrow. Which will suck because work provides for me a vacation fo sorts from the drudgery of home life, but at the same time I suppose it's not wholly out of the question to assume that I will be allowed to prioritize myself above my mom for just this one day -- right? Oh, and right now I'm drinking my third cup of PG Tips, which means I'm pretty darn chock full of that perky Theanine stuff. I'm not saying I'm on the road to becoming another Katie Couric (for one thing, I actually know what real journalism's supposed to be, and another is that I've never developed a hopeless schoolgirl crush on a politician *meowch*), though perhaps getting to be a bit more attuned with my thought processes at about midnight would make for a change. Another is how I haven't yet needed to take a nap all day. Granted, that could be because I slept in until an unbelievable hour, but... I'd normally feel tired right around now. How unusual. In a fantastic way. And speaking of "unusual in a fantastic way", Haysi Fantayzee's "Shiny Shiny"'s on the ol' '80s New Wave channel. What an appropriate song to fade out this entry t-- oh! Kate Gardner of Haysi Fantayzee! She's the kind of perky I'd not mind becoming!

1. Having spent much of my today resting after many months of busily flitting about every place and everywhere in a mad attempt to fulfill all the duties I needed to do that day, I've come to the realization that I don't know how to cope with those days. I mean, it was absolutely lovely getting to take a break from worrying about what next to do, but at the same time I felt a bit lost without having to worry about how I'm going to fit in all the things I have to do with all the things I want to do, or even just resting.

2. I think it'd be a good idea if I wrote about what it's really like living here. Not some Convention and Visitors' Bureau encapsulation of what they'd *like* for people to think it's like living here, nor some moron with an I.Q. equivalent to the temperature of tepid tap water's barely literate screeds about what their own version of the local reality is like, but a truly well thought out, unvarnished account of what it's like to live in this city, and by city I mean the actual, proper city limits, not some affluent suburban alcove of the city that could barely qualify as being "within city limits". I have so many stories to tell, so many grievances to address, so many issues and aggravations and other dirty laundry to air out, that I'm starting to think more and more that this is a fantastic idea.

3. There's a 1945 film adaptation of The Portrait of Dorian Gray on TCM right now and it sounds like a pretty faithful one from what I'm hearing, but I can't really see it just yet. My chair is positioned in an awkward way to where I can't really get to seeing the screen of the TV that's here in the office. I actually have an old, scratched up CD positioned leaning up against one of my computer speakers so that I can view the reflection of the television through the CD and thus can "watch" TV while on the computer. It's a bit jury-rigged like that, but it has to be because the TV is positioned toward my back and in order to watch it while typing, I'd either have to turn my chair around in a completely awkward direction that would hinder my ability to type, or I'd have to do this. I miss the way my old bedroom was set up -- it was large enough to be both bedroom and office and I had my computer desk just off to the left of where my TV was positioned, and back then it was absolutely no effort at all to watch something on TV while typing something on the computer or doing Internet-y things. And since I've noticed that I type better with my gaze averted from the screen, it enabled me to type faster, better, and more, even if I was typing something out for school.

4. I wish I were better/more adept at foreign languages. I try very hard to learn but even in childhood, when my parents tried to teach me Spanish, my brain just wouldn't compute. I just recently got a comment on a FB post I left where someone typed up an Arabic word for "thank you" and, while I rejoiced over finally getting what they meant, it's taking me forever to remember what that word is. (It's "shukran" in English phonetic type, FYI.) If I could do better with foreign languages I would feel so much better about myself.

5. So much of my life has been devoted to battling the demons that reside inside me, and even though I believe I've seriously tired them out, occasionally they'll come back to play with, taunt, and/or torment me. The darkest ones I've managed to diffuse in a way that will be kept secret, but some of the not-so-dark ones are impossible for me to fully battle away, which is weird -- it's like saying the weaker one is, the stronger one is. This includes my ever-present feeling that I'm horribly awkward and weird/unusual and that's why it's difficult to get people to understand me, which will explain why I have so few friends. There's alwasy a small part of me that's that same small child who felt so lonely and alone, craving the company of my peers but feeling instead like she was never good enough for that. The small child who resides inside me is desperately lonely and in need of comfort and affection and it seems like no matter how hard I try or what I attempt to do, I can't make things right with that small child inside. Even though realistically I know that I've moved on since that age and that times change, but I can't comfort that small child with logic. She needs affection and I can't seem to give enough of it to her to make up for the hurt she felt from being openly rejected by her peers.

Ok, that should do it for tonight. Best post this now before the clock strikes midnight and I've completely lost my ability to post for today.

Argh, I keep on wanting to post something in here but I keep being interrupted, and beforehand, I didn't have the time to post anything here. I don't know if that makes sense, but -- well, let's just say I had such a difficult day today that I didn't really have any time for "me" time until later in the evening, and now that it's later in the evening I'm having to concentrate on other stuff and that other stuff is keeping me from being able to input anything of value on this. Argh. I'll try to stay up tonight to post an entry for tomorrow so that I won't have to worry about this again tomorrow night, though honestly I thought that by being off today that I would in fact have enough time for "me" time. I know this... ok, I don't even know what I was going to say here because Firefox crashed on me in the middle of my composing this and I completely lost out on what I was going to go with here. Ok, gotta wrap this up before this day ends and a new one begins and I've completely lost out on the opportunity to post *something* for today.

My arms feel like they're about to fall off. I spent the whole of today fixing, eating, and cleaning up from today's Thanksgiving Day festivities and there is simply no way I'm ever going to manage as thorough an entry as I wanted to do tonight, particularly since I've been afforded slightly more time today to devote to one of these. I think it's a sympathy "I know what you did and am thankful for it so you just go ahead and rest" type thing from the parental unit, though I think she's also expecting me to help her take a shower in about half an hour.

We attempted to eat our Thanksgiving dinner with some wine I'd purchased earlier in the week but just couldn't -- well, I mean, I was able to sip from it, but it burned and clashed with what we were eating, so I reverted back to water so I could more thoroughly enjoy what I was eating and not feel like I'd have to limit myself with what I was drinking. I can't remember what else I was going to say I attempted to do today but just couldn't (and no, before you suggest it it ISN'T "writing a cohesive LJ entry"), which really sucks because I thought I had a really interesting thing going on -- oh! I know what I was going to suggest! I remembered that this morning I was going to fix my mom and I some of the tamales that were left from when I purchased them yesterday, but Mom decided instead to eat a single one she couldn't eat at the time, while I had some toast and a Nutella-like spread. I'm glad we did that because there would've been no way for us to appreciate our dinner without us being as hungry as we were when we ate.

I'm currently overhearing a Martha Stewart holiday special on FLN just because I like looking down upon her and because I have no idea what else is on TV right now. She's such an elitist snobby bitch and it's no wonder that her daughter Alexis has turned out so fucked up -- if I'd had the misfortune of having her for a mom I don't know if I'd have become that well adjusted. And if you think this has anything to do with her ill-informed flaming of Sarah Palin then you're partly right -- Palin is for the people, whereas Stewart is for all the hoi polloi disconnected from reality. Meow.

Oh good, Calendar Girls is on BBC America. Now that movie shows what real proper grace looks like in the visage of its stars, who carry it off in spades. Helen Mirren, Julie Walters, Annette Crosbie, Celia Imrie -- proper British ladies who carry off a certain aura that I would tend to associate with all British women "of a certain age" that shows they have class both inside and out. [..] And if you think that ("[..]") means that I took some time between this link and that, then you're right, because now it's after 9:00 PM and Calendar Girls is over and I'm trying to keep alert and awake even though I feel really bombed out and my limbs ache from having spent so much time cooking and cleaning earlier in the day. And now I'm having to help Mom shower and clean up and that just wipes me out even more, the thought of having to do all that at this time when I've already had such a long day. Ok, enough whining and back to my point -- my point is that even the British do proper better, and one figures that a British Martha Stewart wouldn't think themselves in quite the elevated level of egotism that our own original does.

I'm just rambling right now, I'm sorry. I spent about four hours making the turkey, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes, steamed carrots, and yams with pecans for today's Thanksgiving feast, I also stuck in some biscuits from a bag, made gravy from powder using some of the leftover giblet juice from stewing them in a crock pot (for the cornbread dressing), I made pumpkin pie last night, and Mom and I spent a long time cleaning up from it all. The kitchen looks lovely again, but it took a good couple of hours to get it that way and to put all the leftovers away.

[..]

I think I'll end this entry now.

It's amazing to me how much our society worries over not fitting into a certain prescribed, narrow definition of physical beauty. People will judge you against it, jobs are potentially lost or "won" while quietly based upon it, relationship anxieties are developed because of a seeming lack of it, etc. It truly affects the entirety of one's life, and all because we as humans are too stubborn as a whole to recognize that what we define as "beauty" has been predefined for us and is based on a highly regimented and codified series of "requirements" that aren't but rather are what the hive mind has determined it is, or rather should be. I've just started wondering about this as it's come to my attention that this is so only within the past month at most. Perhaps I've been too blind or naive to see it, or maybe I've never really focused in on such a thing until recently. Hm.

I'm also trying not to worry about the state of our nation at this time, even though I know we're in a lot of shit and it'll take a great deal of work to put our country back together after the ones who are currently running it are through with dismantling its basic components bit by bit and draining us of the resources necessary to keep this country running. And I'm particularly perturbed by our media's mass inability to report what's truly been going on, choosing instead to deflect all such criticisms by critizing those who have well reasoned, intelligent reasons for wanting to alert everyone else to the destruction those in power today are doing to the Union. Other countries' press are all over the stories that our own press (with the exception of one with a reputation tarnished by other press outlets) has been unwilling to report on; heck, even with a particularly urgent crisis moment that's recently arisen, BBC has crafted an hour-long news report about said event, while none of the major media outlets here in the U.S. has even given one minute to said scandal. We no longer have free press anymore and are going to have to be forced to have all our stories reported on by such countries as Australia and Britain, just like how it is in openly repressive countries such as Iran and North Korea.

On a much lighter note, I'm noticing how much more prepared I am for this year's Thanksgiving Day feast than I've been previous years. I have all the core ingredients at the ready for the cornbread dressing, the turkey's busily thawing away, I have all the spices premeasured for both the turkey and dressing, I have the carrots peeled, the potatoes I'm going to peel tomorrow morning, the biscuits I bought as premade and in a bag so I just have to stick them in the oven for about 25 minutes before we want any, I'll be chilling the wine we purchased just to see what it's like to dine with wine at home, the pumpkin pie's done, etc. I've even done a test run of the dishwasher and it appears to work absolutely perfectly. And I know already what we'll be eating for breakfast so that I don't have to do any real cooking aside from that which I'll be doing for the day itself.

And finally, I'm noticing that I'm not censoring myself as much as I used to be, nor am I as bothered as I used to be regarding my spouting off my opinions. I've always been as opinionated as I am right now, but before I always used to either try to hide my opinions or cloak them in overdiplomatic phrases so as not to make people react viscerally against me for what I've opined. I used to be so terrified of people's potentially negative reactions and wanted to preserve whatever acquaintanceships or friendships I'd developed with others and was really desperate not to fall into anybody's bad graces, so I didn't want people to truly know what was going on in my head. But now I find that I'm not as bothered by people potentially thinking negatively of me because of what I've said, not because I don't care anymore but because I know that it's not worth all that worrying, that life is simply too short for me to fret the whole of my life over how my own personal opinions will be taken by others. Not that I don't care about others' feelings -- it's just that when it comes to that which I illustrated in the second paragraph, there will be some disparity of opinion and thought and even if I myself think someone else's opinion is "wrong", I have to let the other have it, so they may more willingly have my own.

I don't know if that made any lick of sense at all. I've given up on even thinking over what it is that I'm putting into this anymore because I realized how much it was paralyzing me and my ability to write something of substance here, so I'm just letting the words fall where they may and not really bothering to check for whether it makes sense or not. And thus ends another edition in my innermost personal life.

(I know, I know, the subject title doesn't even make any sense....)

Two local news personalities are celebrating their 20th anniversaries with being with the local affiliate they're both on, and another local news personality is retiring after more than 30 years with being at another local affiliate. I keep on thinking about how things were 20 years ago and how different those times were, even though back in 1989 I'm sure I thought it was absolutely as modern and advanced as things could get and couldn't think of how things might end up being like even 10 years in the future; now, those 10 years in the future is in fact in the past and I've noticed how much has changed even since that point in time....

Look, I was going to say something poignant here but I'm trying to update this amidst all these different interruptions and my mind's being forced to scatter all over the place instead of being focused here. Which is too bad because I really wish I could elaborate more on what it feels like to clearly remember such a seemingly long period of time back as 20 years ago and how weirded out I am that there'll come a time when I'll be able to clearly remember THIRTY years back. Though it is an eventuality of the aging process and some of the greatest stories people have to tell involve their recollections 40 or more years back, and I remember World War II veterans making news for telling their stories to digital historians back when 1945 (the year often thought of as the end of WWII, even though it didn't officially end until 1991 with the reunification of Germany) was 50 years ago.

God, I already forgot the point I was trying to make with this whole post! I hate when I don't get enough time to update my blog during the day because it makes it impossible for me to focus my attentions on what I'm trying to say with this blog and its individual entries when my attentions are being pulled in so many directions at once. It's just really, really difficult for me to make even well thought out observations and comments when I can't get it all out at once. I think I'm going to have to end this right now. Maybe start over again in the middle of the night.

(a.k.a. I'm not a "Dr. Strangelove" so don't call me one.)

I was going to craft a well thought out blog post for today's blog entry, but for some unknown reason I don't really feel like I'm of the right mind to do one of those, so I think I'm just going to follow the advice of one of the authors who's published a "how to become an author" book -- she said that it's absolutely vital to occasionally delve into free association writing, where you're just writing about whatever comes to mind,e ven if it's just endless riffings on "I'm not thinking of anything right now". She actually recommends this this for people going through writers' block, but I'm just going to extend that to this particular usage, i.e. my blogging while absolutely dead of mind.

I was going to make an elaborate connection between the awe that I feel when walking outside when the sun's gone down and being able to gaze up at the sky without being blinded by the extremely bright sunlight, and witnessing the grandness of the sky in relation to how small I end up feeling, but I lost the plot about halfway through. I should explore this connection further in additional posts in the future, if I can remember to explore this that is. I keep forgetting what precisely I committed myself to do or think about or what have you. I wonder if aging or exhaustion has anything to do with my inability to really be able to stay mentally committed to thoughts and ideas, and how it may perhaps affect me outside of this silly little excursion into thought and personal philosophizing, because there are all sorts of ways this could affect me negatively. I don't know, maybe I shouldn't worry about this as much as I do, though I also feel like it should worry me because my brain has been my life for the whole of my life and if I can't get my brain to be as super-powered as it used to be then that'd be pretty much the end of me, the only me I've ever known.

There's also a worry that this general feeling of overwhelming exhaustion won't subside, that I'll never come out of this state of extreme tiredness. I can't even seem to do well if I sleep for adequate periods of time. Every night I find myself anticipating a revival of strength from a decent night's rest and every morning I find myself starting over in the same position as always. Before I could live on just a few hours' sleep and do a great many things. Now I can't live on little rest as I used to and it seems to me that I'm basically only doing that which will help me survive. Even the seemingly non-energy sapping activity of typing things on the computer will really take a great deal of effort out of me. And it's such an overbearing kind of exhaustion too -- my head and eyelids feel like they weight an incredible lot, the neck feels like it's just not strong enough to hold up my heavy head, my eyes feel like they're burning, my limbs feel incredibly sore, as if they were expected to lift heavy weights all day, and my back feels as though it cannot hold me up for another moment.

I think that's as accurate an assessment of what's going on with my body right now. It's difficult for me to describe this sort of thing at this time -- I'm too closely associated with everything in order to give an accurate assessment of everything. Which is why I think I'm having so much trouble fictionalizing my own experiences in an order to craft a novel -- I'm simply too close to the proceedings in order to transform them into something readable. Every instance I've heard of regarding an author fictionalizing experiences from their formative or earlier years has included an explanation that they weren't able to truly give themselves to the committment of writing it all until they were detached from the situation. Noel Coward write Private Lives while staying in a Chinese hotel room and... I can't remember any other examples like that, but I can recall that other authors will write stories set in the same rural environs they were reared in while living in a big city, or will write about cold climate adventures while holed up in a tropical paradise. The point is, all of these past authors write about what they know only when they're apart from what they know about, because they've been given the adequate distance from what they've experienced. Which person can accurately depict what it was like to experience the whole of a TV show episode taping, one of the main actors of said TV show or an audience member who is observing the proceedings?

Thing is, I don't know if I'll ever be able to "write what I know" until I'm far away from what I know. I've committed myself to moving away from this state in January 2013. Depending on what happens in the world, I could be moving to another part of the country or I could be moving to another part of the world. I don't want to be tied down to this city for the whole of my life because there are just too many things that this city requires to improve and develop upon in order to become a true, world class city, and I feel that I've already outgrown this city. It's too small and parochial for my sensibilities, but I have to wait a few more years before I can take the leap. At that time I might be able to enjoy a better life and then settle down to write some things that might gain for myself a notoriety that can ensure for me a legacy in case I'm not able to fulfill the usual way most people leave a legacy for themselves, i.e. have a family and become a "beloved wife and mother". I think I'm terrified of the great big Texas sky because I'm terrified of being rendered insignificant, and see leaving a legacy as my only solution for finding significance for myself.

(Wow, I did all this while free writing? Gee, I think I might actually be overthinking this whole writing thing.....)

I did a lot of pre-prep work on the run-up to Thanksgiving today, so I won't feel as pressured on the day itself. I made three different cast iron skillets' full of cornbread and chopped a whole stalk of celery and two bunches of green onions for our cornbread dressing and took out the turkey from the freezer and triple bagged it so it wouldn't leak when the turkey defrosted. I also helped my mom take a shower and went out for breakfast tacos in the morning, as well as keeping the kitchen clean all that time and making sure to do whatever else needed to be done around the house. I also finally got to the roasting tray that was wedged to one corner of our garage so I could get that over and done with as early into the proceedings as possible. Mom remarked about how fortunate it was that I didn't need to visit the supermarket today and I felt that she made a point, because I've done Turkey Day shopping the weekend before back when I didn't know better and it was utter and complete madness trying to wade through the crowds and purchase everything I needed to purchase without skipping out on anything, and I'd inevitably have to make some compromises about what I usually get versus what's actually available on the shelves by the time I reach them.

The rest of my schedule appears to be pretty much cut and dry on the road to Thanksgiving. I'm still maintaining an 8:00 AM - 1:00 PM work day and so will have enough time at the end of each day to help run errands and do other preparations as Thanksgiving gets closer. Mom's still requiring a lot of attention but I anticipate this slowly going away over the course of the next month. I hope to fit in some time for a doctor's visit at least, as was implied in a previous post. And hopefully the entire week will be wholly a success, as I expect the week following will be considerably more complicated as I add some more time to my schedule; I'm still not planning on going back full time, but am hoping on slowly phasing myself in to a full time schedule so I can get reacclimated to a more "normal" work week.

As for my internal life -- I hope on that front I can eventually regain my energies and abilities. I feel so bereft of *something* for not being able to philosophize the way I used to. I always used to figure that a life left unexplored is a life not worth living, yet at the same time I can't remember the last time I really explored some new, fresh thoughts and ideas that came to mind that day or week. I suppose I've indulged in a little bit of it over the past couple of weeks, but it's nothing akin to the open wondering that used to occur at least on my own time, away from the computer. I have mentioned to someone else the peculiar kind of exhaustion I've felt, and he's the one who brought it to my attention that residual exhaustion that's been accumulating through a period of weeks or months will often be so overwhelming that it will in fact take the same amount of weeks or months in order to rest up enough to return to normal energy levels. This is where I stand at the moment, except I don't really have that kind of time at present to return myself to the energy level I experienced two years ago at this time. I figure that I might possibly begin to have the opportunity to begin the rebounding process when Mom is as back to normal as she'll ever become, which is anticipated for roughly March of next year.

During my typing of last night's post I was reminded of something that was said during that evening's Mass; the sermon the priest delivered had a bit relating to Thanksgiving, where he challenged every single one of us to think back throughout the past year to a difficult or trying incident we weren't thankful for and to find a way to be thankful for having experienced it. I haven't yet mulled over this, but once I do I'll have to figure out a way to incorporate that with the next post I make. (What a refreshing thing to be challenged in that way, i.e. cerebrally, by a priest! That's what a Real Church should be like, and a Real Priest should speak up to his audience in that way instead of treating us all like mentally challenged little children as is the case in a Fake Church.)

Speaking of being disgruntled -- I'm becoming increasingly more disgrunted with my city and am finding increasingly more elements of said city that I'm ill at ease about. I find myself missing previous mayors more and more -- not all of them, but certainly even Howard Peak would be an improvement over the sleazy-looking, oily Julian Castro. And it can't be based on sociocultural factors because I remember very well when Henry Cisneros was mayor and he did not even remotely give off any kind of sleaze factor back then, and he certainly didn't appear to make up his mind about issues before the facts revolving around said issues were presented the way Castro appears to do. I also remember the time when I thought it was embarrassing that we had a mayor such as Phil Hardberger and cringing whenever I heard his broad twang and folksy expressions, but now I appreciate that his slower, more deliberate style of mayoring did help him deliberate what was the best action to take on whatever issue he addressed and to go with situational-dependent instead of ideological-dependent solutions for whatever comes across. One can easily see that a city craving wiser and healthier growth would actually need that kind of leadership, instead of leadership by ideological fiat, which produced more inflexible -- and thus brittle -- leadership.

I should muse over whatever else I could add to my rantings about what's wrong with this city, but leave the rest of that for other future posts. Perhaps it might even comprise one whole one! But as for now I believe it's time to give this a rest for the evening so I can, in turn, rest for the evening. When the mind is strained by having to operate on a survival basis throughout the day, even pleasurable thought can become a chore instead of a joy. This goes back to my prior thoughts about "mindless" living, I believe. Until later....

I've come to the conclusion that my writing sucks because I don't know how to describe, I just indicate a series of events that happened. Which is all well and good for a blog setting but is absolutely anathema when it comes to fiction. No matter how groundbreaking you're attempting to be as a writer of fiction, you do have to make it easier on the reader to imagine what's going on, to paint mental pictures that indicate precisely what journey you want the reader to go on. And I simply don't do that, or if I do then I do it horribly. So I suppose I'm going to have to practice describing things to the point where anyone at all can imagine what kind of mental movie I'm trying to direct in the readers' heads. Ooh, going to be a bit of a challenge but if I attempt to practice it, maybe it'll get barely easy enough to where I might be able to attempt it successfully every now and then.

And as I was going about my business earlier in the day I realized that I didn't actually get to one of the points I wanted to make with the writing I wanted to attempt early in the month, i.e. I wanted to work in real life anecdotes and suggestions into the main body of a fictionalized account. So I think I should try to write down what suggestions I thought would be most useful for the relatives outside the innermost circle of someone who is experiencing a debilitating illness/recovering from major surgery:

1. If you already know the person you're inquiring about is in the hospital and (s)he hasn't notified you yet that (s)he's out of the hospital, please please PLEASE only call that person's main phone number from 8:00 - 10:00 in the morning or 8:00 - 10:00 at night. If you catch someone in the morning during that time, they'll probably be doing the morning preparations for going to the hospital, and if you catch them in the evening during that time, they'll probably be just settling in from spending their day visiting their more immediate family member at the hospital. Don't call up at 2:30 in the afternoon if you already know the patient is in the hospital, expecting any kind of response because unless you have absolutely no idea what's going on, you are being either willfully idiotic or insensitive to the whole idea of when people usually visit their closest relatives, and no, you don't really deserve to have your phone call returned.

2. Don't expect the closest inner circle relatives to pick you up if you're wanting to visit the patient in the hospital, because their energy's probably spent from the stressful and draining process of having to spend the bulk of their days visiting the patient, going around hospital staff, fetching stuff for the patient, trying to figure out what and when to eat, taking care of things back at the house, etc. The last thing you want to do is add to that stress and strain by making them drive any further than maybe a mile out of their way to pick your ass up. There are buses and taxis and other people -- rely on THEM.

3. If you don't know about the patient's hospitalization and you happen to call the home/main phone # in the middle of the day, that's cool; eventually someone will get back with you. Don't go leaving multiple messages that all say the same thing, especially if you haven't given the main relative in charge of the patient 48 hours at most to respond. I guarantee, 48 hours is enough time to respond to all messages, but if you're leaving three or four "Just wondering what you're doing"s in a row, I'm not going to be inclined to respond to you as quickly.

4. Take everyone's personality and disposition into consideration. Not everyone is going to appreciate any kind of hovering you might attempt, though there are those who will. If someone tells you that they're fine, not to worry about them, then take it at face value -- they're fine and don't want you to worry about them. Don't push it with three or four "Are you sure?"s because it stops becoming something sweet and charitable at the first asking and starts getting into "I'm going to force you to accept whatever it is I'm going to give you because I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart but out of obligation and a sense of fulfilling some arbitrary community service need" territory. OTOH, the patient might need help regardless of what the main caregiver responds -- you will be a huge help if you pitch in there and then, as the caregiver might want someone else to do the fetching and running around for awhile.

5. Likewise, take the inner circle relative caregiver's personality into consideration when it comes to waiting with them during any surgical procedure. If the caregiver isn't naturally a chatty, gregarious sort during "normal" experiences, they're not going to appreciate your attempting to constantly chat with them; OTOH, if the caregiver is usually outgoing and talkative, they might appreciate the opportunity to take their minds off what's going on by talking. This is also why it'd be good to have several people in the waiting room per patient, so others can converse with each other and leave the exhausted caregiver be if that's what needs to happen.

That's pretty much it as far as what I can think of right now. I might think of more later on, but I did mean to cover all of the above throughout the narrative of what I was going to attempt as far as a story went, early this month. Maybe I will if I think I could get away with it, or maybe I'll leave it as this. I'd be satisfied either way. And I'll be satisfied when I wrap this up and click on the submit button, as I'm fading fast. Hope I have enough energy for AIMing tonight!

I'm writing the following under the influence of Theanine. After a long day of at-home drudgery, I've sipped a cup of PG Tips (a bit of Splenda and a splash of 1%) and feel somehow energized mentally. Which is a miracle because before my cuppa I thought for sure I was going to collapse in a heap of exhaustion and take a long, long nap earlier in the evening. It's tough work being someone's live-in nurse but I think if I do it enough it'll start to gel.

I really want to go to Walgreens to purchase some more DVD-Rs; I've found torrent uploads of all the series of "As Time Goes By", a program I find is a real internal salve for me when my days are long and tough and hard. I downloaded series (season) 1 on regular .avi format, but if I want series (seasons) 2 and beyond, I'll have to burn the disc images onto a DVD-compatible disc. I had one DVD-R at hand and burned season 2; I'm now proceeding to rewatch the entire run after watching it the whole way through over the past three or so days. It's been a real comfort to me in the mornings as I munch my toast and prepare myself for the day. Some days it's precisely the sole reason why I'm able to get through my day without having some kind of outburst. It calms me down and provides me a bit of inspiration for the future -- I want to be a Jean Pargetter with my very own Lionel Hardcastle. To me that love story is the grandest one of all time, more romantic than anything Danielle Steele could ever concoct in her silly little soap oprified mind.

It's just occurred to me, BTW, that I'm probably going to end up beginning all my paragraphs with the same letter. I remember my senior year HS English teacher's admonitions about that sort of thing. She's also the reason why I keep tabs on how long each paragraph is and attempt not to make each paragraph of equal or similar size. She's also the reason why I'm as verbose as I am; all of her essay assignments required so much verbal real estate to be worked over that I learned how to stretch a simple statement out to almost distorted proportions. So that's that.

I did find it refreshing in a way that I spent most of today cloistered at home. The only time I spent running errands was the hour I devoted to picking up a prescription for Mom, withdrawing a small sum of money from the ATM, and making a quick supermarket run to pick up the very last of the things I'm going to need to have for Thanksgiving Day week. It's funny how much one has to prepare for even if the number of diners anticipated that day is somewhere around the vicinity of two persons. I don't know why I bought a whole turkey aside from the fact that sometimes it's nice to have dark meat as well as light and the turkey breasts I'm accustomed to getting for my mom and I have just the white meat available there; I'm sure Mom would prefer to have a selection and even I would like to choose between dark and white. And then there are the other things we'll need to keep on hand at home throughout the rest of the week, which I needed to fetch before the stores go completely crazy with last-minute holiday shoppers. I want to avoid that madness as much as humanly possible, so I'll want to be able to have to have zero reason at all to go to the supermarket.

It's now just occurred to me that I'm running out of ways to start every paragraph with the same letter, as well as running out of things to say here. I fear the Theanine is waning as far as my writing energies go. Which, BTW, are still pretty much running on fumes, which I suspect will have to remain until I have enough time to enjoy life more, which I'm hoping is sometime before I'm considered "middle aged". I also need to make a doctor's appointment sometime before the Thanksgiving holidays, for a presently censored reason (which may be revealed if it turns out the doctor's not wasted her time).

So. That's that. Enough typing in this for today. Maybe tomorrow will be more inspired.