It’s because of these drugs I do


May 06, 2021 :: 11:53 PM

wikipedia: creeping me out since 2001

Watching Netflix’s “Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel” and checking out Wikipedia.As you do when you’re home alone.

We all know the story of Elisa Lam - and if you don’t, where the fuck were you back in 2013 when the security camera footage went viral? But, there’s always more to the story than the creepy elevator video or the random way she died…

Like she was bipolar.

Buckle up, kids. Shit’s about to get real.

I’ve watched the video more times than I care to admit and I always thought she was fucked up on… something.

It never once occurred to me that she might have been out of her mind due to mania.

Which, well, my history *might* suggest an occasion or two where, um, things that should have been in my head actually weren’t.

At this point, I need to post a disclaimer:

WHEN I WAS FIRST DIAGNOSED, MY MEDS WERE NOT BALANCED CORRECTLY AND THEY FUCKED ME UP MORE THAN I ALREADY WAS. I AM NOT PROUD OF - NOR DO I LIKE TO REMEMBER / DISCUSS - THIS ROUGH PERIOD OF MY LIFE.

You’ve been warned. OK?

So. Yeah.

That.

The list of prescription drugs she was taking caught my eye because I have taken all four of those. I’m currently taking two of them in combination.

But.

The Wellbutrin… holy mother of fucking FUCK.

I swear when I wasn’t tasting fucking COLOURS, I was bouncing back and forth between severe depressions and… well, Guinness record breaking manic phases.

I hit both extremes so quickly and so consistently over a few weeks that I couldn’t function.

I didn’t know which way was up half the time.

And have I mentioned?

I COULD TASTE COLOURS!

It took forever to figure out what was going on and it turned out that the Wellbutrin was making me manic. Except, when you’re already manic, shit goes sideways real fucking quick.

(As it turned out, I can’t take anything marketed as an “anti-depressant” because they trigger the mania. I can thank the Wellbutrin for pointing out that particular quirk in my biology.)

So… enough about me.

Watching the video and realising that she was bipolar was like reliving the Wellbutrin days.

I would never go as far as to call it a psychotic break, because I (thankfully) don’t know what something that severe is like, but I can tell you that there were points where I might have been hallucinating and I might have acted kind of, sort of, similar to the way she did.

Thankfully, my Wellbutrin days are far, far, far behind me and I’ve not had that particular experience again… but watching her… yeah. I can totally see the mania in her actions.

Although… the odd thing is that she seems to have stopped taking her meds, or at least was weaning herself off of them.

Which, yeah, if you’re fucked up enough and you stop taking the things that make you less fucked up then, that’s a totally valid reason for her behaviour as well.

Will we ever know what really happened? Probably not.

In all honesty, I’m not sure I want to know… because if it was mania induced, well… I don’t know how I could process that.

Penis!


April 12, 2021 :: 6:21 PM

“E” is most definitely NOT for everyone

I’m pre-empting my own fucking blog entry because, for as much as I love an absolutely terrible horror movie, even I can’t get past a movie who’s first line is - no shit - “There’s no such thing as strip ouija…” Like are you fucking kidding me?!?!

If all you have to offer me in the first half hour involves nudity or, well, strip ouija, yeah…. no.

Give me a red ball bouncing or rolling around on its own power or a good “The power of Christ compels you” any day. 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

All of a sudden, all kinds of fan fic is getting bookmarked. (I might have rediscovered a Drarry fic group. Maybe. In my defence, my fics have been recommended there, so we were bound to cross paths again.)

So… apparently, when a guy gets an inappropriate boner and uses a pillow to hide his obvious interest, he grabs an emotional support boner cushion.

But, wait. It gets better.

“Like if a blueberry muffin was a person. A very intense blueberry muffin.”

OK. I get the cinnamon roll thing, but blueberry muffin? That’s a stretch even for my warped imagination. Doesn’t matter. That fic was such a fun read, I’ll probably read it again.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I’m still working a fuck ton. Still pissing my weekends away trying to get caught up.

Except, that wasn’t enough for me, so now I’m taking a CMA study course. (Not just part 1 or part 2, but the combined, so I’m in class Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday from 8-10:30.)

Yeah.

I’m a fucking idiot.

On the plus side, the new accountant is working out, so maybe I’ll be able to hand some of that off soon.

Also - we have a new Director of Operations. He’s so cute. He started, took a look at the way things are, and decided he had to make a fuck-ton of changes in procedures and staff. He and I are on the same page with a lot of things. Surprisingly, they were all the same things I wanted to change when I started. (And on 4/20, it will be a year.) So, yeah.

Welcome to [the company], dude. Where you come in all excited to make some meaningful changes and realise that you’re never going to get there because YOU’RE STILL CLEANING UP THE FUCKING PAST.

Seriously.

He didn’t understand when I told him why I hadn’t closed 2020 or any of 2021 yet.

He does now.

File Under Grain


March 05, 2021 :: 7:57 PM

Dylan O’Brien is totally on my list. You know, THE LIST.

On Monday, I stumbled across some very good fan fic.

You know: Poetry. Angels sing. God is in the heavens and all is right in the world.

When I find something that makes me want to NEVER! WRITE! AGAIN! I treasure that bitch.

And then, when I finish it, I obsess over whatever my current WIP is.

I’m on draft 4 of my shitty Teen Wolf fic, draft 3 of my Yuri!!! On Ice fic, draft 6 of my Harry Potter Eighth Year fic (now with multiple POVs! WOOO!),  and I’m stuck on the 2nd 3rd 4th fuck it, I lost count draft of my Harry Potter soulmates fic.

It’s probably an understatement that I’m obsessing over what fic to obsess over…

But. FUCK.

For as smart as I am, for as many words as I’ve written over my lifetime, for the voices I’ve cultivated both for ‘serious’ writing and ‘internet’ writing, I still suffer from Imposter Syndrome.

My writing has won fucking awards. It’s popular on AO3. It’s made grown men cry. It answered that age old question, How Do You Tell Someone You Don’t Love Them Any More? It’s opened wounds. It’s healed them.

It’s alive and amazing and wonderful and it’s something I created. By myself. For myself.

But. FUCK.

That little lemony piece of goodness I finished snacking on - why was it so fucking short - was just an amazing piece.

One day, I’ll be able to write mindblowing tales of tentacle porn between ghosts, blow up T-Rexes, and walruses who are calculating the square root of cheese while doing lines of coke and having sex with chickens…

No.

Wait.

That wasn’t the story I just read.

That was the fucked up dream I had when I added a doxy to my nighttime ‘fuck insomnia’ cocktail.

Kinda made me never want to sleep again.

Seriously.

*sigh*

 

- - - - - - - - - -

One of my fanfic groups asked if you were any AO3 tag which one(s) would you be?

I chewed on that question for days but the winner is:  DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Honorable mention went to no beta we die like men, but I’m totally a dead dove.

The deadest of doves.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Day whatever of Quarantine is under my belt (we both tested fucking positive!) and I am miserable.

Thankfully, that little habit I developed of working over the weekend has served me well. My home office is set up and (mostly) organized and I’ve been working without missing a beat.

In other news, we’re not firing my staff accountant… she quit.

Small little issue with her replacement, but I’m hoping it won’t blow up into something larger. I’m all for second chances and this seems like it might be worth the risk.

 

життя починаеться знов


February 27, 2021 :: 3:10 PM

I may write multiple shitty drafts, but I’ve never written anything this bad.

Soooooooo. A lot has happened in two months.

The one I find most amusing is that I posted my 10 favourite R.E.M. songs on Facebook and somebody caught the fact that both Good Advices and Wendell Gee were on the list.

Somebody’s been paying attention. If you don’t know what the significance is… well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. (Says “Wendell” who blogs at “goodadvices”.com and has an email address of “wendellgee1985”.)

The second one is that we fired and hired a CPA firm on Friday and then hired a new AR person this morning.

I AM SO EXCITED.

I know I’m an asshole, but I am so glad to be letting go of my AR person. I’ve have a problem with her since I started there. Her emails are typically written in redneck and are terribly embarrassing to read. As her boss, it’s HORRIFYING to come across these in my inbox. She’s such a bad reflection on me and my department… and I’ve let my feelings known. She’s also incapable of following instructions and refuses to take responsibility for anything. My number one rule is Own. Your. Shit. and she refuses. So… we’re bringing someone on board who will.

 

- - - - - - - - - - -

There’s so much I do - and don’t - want to talk about that I can’t even find a place to begin or a way to separate the two.

The major thing is: Mitch McConnell is a fucking asshole. But that’s really neither here nor there… it’s not like we didn’t know it.

I don’t know. I’m alive. I’m still working weekends. I’ve gotten better at running more frequently. I’m studying for two major exams. I’m focusing on Ukrainian.

I’m surviving.

I can’t ask for much more than that.

 

 

I need some music, I need some sleep


December 26, 2020 :: 11:38 PM

Spending Christmas with Matt

I’ve taken over the HR duties at work, and there was a conversation I can’t let go of:

We had a client sleep with several of our subcontractors. Apparently, there was a move on our Project Manager.

Question: if he had slept with her and something had happened, would he be eligible for workers comp?

Heart attack, sprained muscle, STD… anything is fair game.

If they were at her house (“job site”), would it count as being on the job? Even if it was after hours?

Sometimes, I think we should adjust my meds. My head is going to the weirdest places lately.

-  -  -  -  -

We decided to paint my office this month and the husband went after it with a vengeance.

I ended up going with a soft grey - the same grey from the reading nook - with the same roman blinds, but no curtains.

That room used to be so dark that I used fairy lights and desk lamps(s) to try and brighten it up. I replaced the ugly sconces. The gold nipple lamp in the entry got replaced with a flush mount LED that’s brighter than the fucking sun. I also added a new ceiling fan with a light. Also LED. Also bright as fuck.

On one of the walls, there was a floor to ceiling mirror. One of the very first things we did when we moved in was had it removed. I left up the frame and we painted the inside of it with a bright white. (If removing the frame wasn’t going to necessitate replacing all the drywall, I’d have taken it down. That adhesive is nasty.)

The reading nook and the office are one big room, half assed divided by an arch and I think they will compliment each other beautifully. The reading nook is dark and cosy, with a bright red wall dominating. The office is bright and airy, with a large white area. They’re divided by a white and red IKEA shelving unit and I’m SO HAPPY with the way it all came together.

-  -  -  -  -

After quitting running (temporarily) due to depression, I signed up for Fandom Running Club’s year long event.

I think I have ONE real live race in 2021 so far… and I’m not sure I’ll be signing up for others.

Disney went virtual for Marathon Weekend and Rival Run and I’m not paying Disney dollars for a medal. That completely broke me. SHATTERED me.

So I’ve been licking my wounds and using a ridiculous backlog of work from the day job to distract myself.

But.

I miss running. Even if I only run on a treadmill and get bored after the first five minutes, I miss it.

I never finished my 2020 medal rerun, so I’m scrapping it. It doesn’t make sense to beat myself up for two shitty Racery events and not finishing all my medals. Let’s be honest, I’ve been in such a shit place that it takes EFFORT to get out of bed every morning, so… if that’s all I have spoons for, that’s all I have spoons for. I’m not going to sweat it.

I’ll be rerunning them all this year. Same rules apply: have to run entire medal distance in one go, intentional miles only, and the challenge medals are the same distance as all the year’s races. (The 2018 PHRC Phoenix Challenge only required that you ran all the races.)

-  -  -  -  -

I am not doing well.

That’s not a cry for attention. It’s a fact.

I’m exhausted.

I’m homesick.

I’m lonely.

It’s that last one that kills me… I’m not a people person by any means, but I miss being able to go out.

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