Pray

“But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it the most?”

—	Mark Twain

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The Ankle Chronicles - post 1 of who the fuck knows - a HUGE rant

It's Sunday.
It's a quarter till 6pm.
It has been a super sucky weekend, ending a super frantic turned sucky week.
I am tired and frustrated. I feel helpless and depressed.

Wednesday night I was with Mia and was leaving her place to go visit a friend that was in the hospital. This friend only had visitor's till 9pm and it was 7:30pm. I was not paying attention as I rushed back out her door and down her porch steps. I missed the last 2 steps. I stumbled. I fell. ON my right ankle. I heard it crunch. I screamed.

I was in SO MUCH pain. I had never felt such pain after a fall before. I got scared. I knew it was really bad from the very moment I heard it crunch.

I went to the E.R. they wrapped it and gave me crutches (They took no address or insurance information from me, I am scared to see this bill...should it ever get to me) and was told to follow up with my doctor the next day. I did. She also did not want to commit to the ankle being broken, she said let's plan for it to be broken and then if it's not it'll be good news! Go to the ortho doctor she says. Went to him the next day (this whole time people that I am relating this tale to are freaking out about how I haven't had it set yet and this is day 2...well, are you able to get a referral and a specialist appointment in 24 hours? Anyway, it's besides the point, but this is going to be a whiny post cause I have had a sucky week and have been surrounded by stupid people). Can I just say sarcastically that the best part of this whole thing is I was completely sober. That I have had nights, all dressed up and wearing way too high shoes, so drunk I couldn't see, and I have survived those totally unscathed. That I had on Doc Martens oxfords, and had not one drink or smoke or drug in my body, and simply due to being anxiousness and being rushed I fucked over the next month of my life...

Ortho doctor says there could very well be a hairline fracture in there, in a weird place. Other than that it is acutely sprained, muscles torn, deeply bruised. Gave me a "Walking Boot" and told me elevation and ice, stay off it as much as possible. I went home and did just that. I have done that Saturday (except to get ready to go out to a much needed girls night out Saturday that was canceled...), and I did that today (other than to go out to breakfast with girls I was supposed to have girls night with last night). I am so tired, and bored and frustrated. I can't walk at all. I love that I have been home, but I am not sure I will get paid for not coming in Friday, and I know I won't get paid for taking the last half of Thursday off. So, this whole ordeal has become uber expensive and I have just sat on my ass with ice on my ankle. It wasn't like I was getting cleaning or projects done.

This is SD's last weekend of summer vacation, and I wanted to be able to help her pack food, and get ready. I wanted to start a whole new page after having an amazing party weekend with friends and instead I am just gonna try and survive the week, again. My partner is exhausted, he has done my laundry, his laundry, helped move the last of his daughter's stuff in, taken me to all doctor's appoints, carried me to and from the car when needed and slept next to my huge booted foot and will be driving everywhere till I can drive again. I can't drive...I also have to take this paragraph to give a shout out to Mia, who stayed calm, went with me to visit our friend in the hospital and then waited 3 hours for me to come out of the E.R. so she could drive back to my place, pick up my partner and then drive back to her place where I left the truck. All on a school night! 

I TOTALLY get that I will heal. Probably fast because I am in very good health and take care of myself. I understand that I will probably be walking in my walking boot next weekend and the weekend after that the ortho doctor will X-Ray it and probably tell me I am close to healed. I understand that this is probably about a month out of my life. But, still, THIS IS A MONTH OUT OF MY LIFE!! GRRR...This will test me...

I actually have to remind myself that this week didn't start out sucky, that last weekend I got to spend 3 days in a row with a very dear friend of mine out from the east coast. That I got to say good-bye to that friend this morning at breakfast and for these things I am blessed.

I will use this to make me stronger, and be inspiring and I know I am resilient and I will rise above. I KNOW this. But, my week still sucked really bad and the upcoming week is gonna suck really bad, and I needed to vent.

Thanks for the ear.
Done now. Moving on.
♥

3 years gone, never forgotten

Hi guys, Happy July!

June 24th stuck in my head all day, and I couldn't figure out why, till a whole day later. The brain has been fried, I'll update you on my personal life next, this right here is important.

June 24th, 2010 is the day my friend Ila Packman was senselessly stabbed to death.

In THIS POST in December of 2012 I shared the surveillance video of the people they suspect killed Ila, or at very least have some information on his death. That post has had an increase in traffic this last week, and for the first time someone commented on it. On June 25th, and I was reminded of what the 24th was. Then others commented. All friends and loved one's of Ila's. Hi guys, nice to meet you all, so sorry this is why...

Anyhow, I have a much larger audience on a much more regular basis now, with about 75 page-views a day (I know, this isn't "a lot" or anything, but it's new to me) I am hoping more people will see this this time.

Ila's mom commented on the original post and informed that the reward is $55,000 if money happens to be something that motivates you.  She's a mom who lost her son to senseless violence if helping other humans is something that motivates you.

WATCH THIS VIDEO, then: SHARE THIS VIDEO. SHOW THIS VIDEO TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW!

IF YOU KNOW SOMETHING PLEASE, PLEASE SAY SOMETHING. 


 

Those times when that crucial button in the middle of the bust portion of your blouse pops open and you walk around 99 cent store with the center of your bra showing and everyone laughs at you but no one says a damn thing.

My life rocks.

Funk

Funk.

And, not the good kind played by amazing people like George Clinton or Bootsy Collins...
The last 3 or so days have just been, weird. I feel weird and unmotivated and like I want to just go hide under the covers with my book and about a pound of chocolate covered marshmallows.

Fuck I love chocolate covered marshmallows.

See, and there's the other thing, I want to eat and be depressed. Not good. No. Not in the least. I fed this beast for 5 fucking months last year. It took me till March of this year to get over Christmas...I was doing so well...What now?

Last week was so much better, so much more full. I worked my ass off in like 4 classes in the gym at work, I was exhausted but felt amazing. It was the free week to try the gym and the woman I walk with encouraged me to join her in her classes. By the end, Thursday night, I thought I was gonna fall over. I wanted to go lay in a hot tub for the rest of my life.

I so looked forward to the long weekend, and so needed it when it arrived and then didn't know what to do with myself. Friday was good, ran a bunch of errands, got stuff done. Kinda...Then there was Arrested Development and reading and I got the bathroom clean and went to yoga...and completely avoided cleaning my bedroom...again.

Monday came and we tried to figure out how to spend it and I felt restless. I wanted to just go drive, drive in the sunshine and soak up the warmth and energy and fire and let it heal me and make me whole. We went and got boba at the outdoor part of the mall and got in the pool. I still hate boba by the way...I wasn't sure for a second, but nope, don't care for it. Then, I took on the bedroom. Monday evening. After texting and calling various people to distract me and failing to find anyone to save me from the stupid chore that has exploded in my head...then, at the end of cleaning the bedroom, came the putting of my fathers film and such into my closet...I took a deep breath and shoved things in fast and hard and sat with a thud on the floor and bit my lip and tried not to cry. My partner has gently suggested sorting this stuff once or twice, it came up again when I emptied a plastic bin in the closet of my belly dance costume crap, but I still haven't been able to give it enough of a go. I still can't really look at it. I still can't allow myself to process any of it, the pain washes over me and I feel like I am gonna puke...

So, I guess in this long rant I have figured out why I am in a funk. I guess we got that. But, I mean, fuck SERIOUSLY? Is this gonna happen every time I have to move my parents crap around? That exhibit of his art is gonna take me YEARS at this rate...I am so frustrated. Some days are ok, and I keep on keeping on and have hidden my parents in that dark little room in my head where it doesn't bother me that I don't have them to talk to, I'm fine, it's fine. Then, other days knock me in the head and the pain is so sharp I can't see straight.

and that feeling lasts for days. and, here we are.

Oh well, oh well

"Now my mind is filled with rubber tires and forest fires
And whether I'm a liar
And lots of other situations
Where I don't know what to do
At which time God screams to me
There's nothing left for me to tell you
Nothing left for me to tell you
Nothing left
Oh well, oh well, oh well, oh well
Oh well, oh well, oh well, oh well"


~ White Stripes: little cream soda

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

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“Grief changes shape, but it never ends.” 

~ Keanu Reeves

Love and Prayers go out to Boston

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Yesterday afternoon was horrific. Sending peace and love and healing vibes to Boston. ♥

Where we live

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