huh.

I was working on my three words last night - really defining them and making sure they were the right ones - when I got hit by a blinding truth.

I don’t know to be friends with ANYONE.

I don’t know if it’s the bipolar making me keep people at arm’s length.

I don’t know if it’s some fucked up remnant of my childhood and/or the isolation of being an introverted, shy, only child.

I don’t know if it’s the way I was wired from day one - maybe all that other stuff is a “symptom” of the larger problem.

I can’t let the members of my blood family back in, even though they want it so badly… And I’m the one that sought them out.

I can’t let J’s family in, even though it’s probably important to him (he’s never said, but it’s a safe assumption).

I communicate with the majority of my friends through Facebook because it’s easier. It’s friendship on MY terms.

I read blogs to keep tabs on them instead of reaching out regularly.

I break promises to keep in touch more often.

I don’t know how to fix this.

To fix ME…

But it was important enough to make the list after everything was filtered out…

It’s time to sit down and figure out this part of my personality.

It’s PAST time to figure out this part of my personality.

I Christmas a Merry Wish You…

I haven’t thought of that in years… I can’t remember if I made it up or if N did, but it was ‘written’ during high school. N… the lesbian friend I lost over a stupid misunderstanding about her sexuality. N… the friend back in my life due to Facebook and the shared pain of trying to accept the stupidity of a mutual friend.

It seems fitting that it would pop into my head today.

During this past year, I mourned the loss of someone that I just don’t know how to be friends with. It goes all the way back to college and it sucks. So, bye, old friend…  I also mourned the loss of someone that used to be my family before they turned their back on me. The fact that a person is a blood relative doesn’t mean you won’t be subject to their hurtful jackassery. So, bye, Djadko J… Clarity. Closure. Cookies.

On the flip side, my openness about the bipolar (and the blog entries that have been printed out and given to long-term life partners) has brought old friends back into my life. The fact that they all hide it - and I’m ridiculously in your face - has made it easier for them seek out members of the ‘tribe’. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, we’re not alone in fighting this. I’m sad that it takes ‘coming out’ to bring us together, but I’m glad we reconnected on a deeper level.

Let’s not forget about the other old friends I’ve reconnected with. I’m working on being more social with them. (It’s part of my three words (more on that later)). Plus, Newtown kind of reminded me (again) that life is just too fucking short to have “take off the shelf once a year” friends. There are people who mean a lot to me and I’m tried of not seeing them face to face.

Then there’s the new friends… the ones I can share a “Merry Pornmas” with. The ones who indulge in inappropriate touching. (Wait. That’s all the same person. Oh well.) The ones that I haven’t scared off with the openess about the bipolar…

Santa’s been good to me this year. There are more people in my life than I lost and that’s pretty good!

Hopefully Santa’s been as good to you, Peanut Gallery.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming

guinness :: christmas 2012

SO.

It sounds stupid, but I’ve always wanted an American Girl doll. (Yes, you read that right.)

I’ve wanted to take up sewing again, too. Too many friends have picked up quilting/sewing and I feel like following along. I needed another hobby, I guess.

I came to the great conclusion that I would get myself an AG doll and sew it some clothes. A fencing uniform, specifically. I’d use some PVC pipe for the base of the mask with some window screen, a hanger for the foil, etc.

Enter the sewing machine from hell.

I had picked up an interest in sewing in high school/college and my dad bought me this really expensive (comparatively speaking) machine. The model is a limited edition and hard to find any info about on the web. I ended up buying a couple of pattern books and a book titled “Me and My Sewing Machine” with a gift card I received.

I’ve been practicing and the machine and I just aren’t getting along. I get the tension correct on my test piece and then it misbehaves on the pattern pieces.

Today, though, I had a breakthrough and managed to cobble together my first pair of doll pants. Then I promptly tore them apart. They don’t fit the doll correctly, but I know what I need to do to make them fit… then I need to attach the bib, and lo! and behold! A pair of fencing knickers!

Yeah. Except that once I get the capri pants sewn together, the bib is going to be kind of a mystery. I have a tank top pattern that will work - with some alterations. Then I need to figure out the logistics of the jacket. Whether or not I’m going to do a chest guard and plastron.

So many decisions and I keep getting ahead of myself…

It wouldn’t be so bad except the machine is driving me fucking nuts. I don’t know if it’s user error (most likely) or the machine.

I’d thought about taking sewing lessons, and maybe it’s time I sucked it up and did it. The less the machine and I get along, the less interested I’m getting in making the fencing outfit…

and I don’t want yet another unfinished project on my to-do list…

*sigh*

I’m not going to comment…

I’ve been playing shrink to a number of people lately… having lost both my parents by my 26th birthday and my 3-ish year old cousin, I’m somewhat of an “expert” on depression/mourning after a close family member passes away.

Other than the reaction blog entry a few days ago, I’ve said very little. The majority of my posts on Facebook related to the shooting are in the form of shared links. I’ve been trying to keep quiet and not add my voice to the deafening roar.

And I’ve been asked why - seeing how I never know when to shut up.

Publicly, I’ve said nothing regarding the Newtown shooting, except that I have a college friend whose daughter was killed. I’ve mentioned being on the fence as to whether or not I’m making the four hour trip to attend the wake/funeral. I’ve donated to both the Engel family and the UConn scholarship set up for the surviving children and their siblings in Newtown. I have no public opinion on gun control. I’m ambivalent regarding the media’s insistence on tying this back to some sort of mental illness.

In the end, it boils down to the fact that I don’t have the “right” words to describe what happened, or my reaction to the flood of emotions I’ve experienced.

Sometimes it’s best to just keep your mouth shut.

This situation is fucked up enough as it is without me saying something in my normally tactless manner and managing to make it worse…

This wasn’t supposed to happen…

OLIVIA ENGEL :: 2006 - 2012 :: NEWTOWN, CT
photo lifted from one of the news sites and is used without permission

I went to school with Olivia’s father Brian. We marched in the band together.

I’m not going to link to all the media because it’s easy to find… but here’s one story that focuses on her.

The family has put together a paypal account to receive donations. You can visit the Facebook page here.

This shit isn’t supposed to happen to a six year old. Period.