Stumbling Along

Some awesome art

Asian Slaw

The ultimate cold case

Creating safer sex work

Useless objects

For the Harry Potter fans

Moss graffiti

For the funny bone

Beauty around the world

Things to do with kids in the summer

Tumblr on history

Watch it to the end

Something to do on a boring winter day

You Spin Me Round

I have vertigo. It happens a few times a year when allergens are rampant. Right now the lilacs are blooming, the streets are being "cleaned" therefore dust is being spewed up into the air. This means that my antihistamines are battling an uphill war to clear my sinuses and help my Eustachian tubes drain. So this evening My world is going zoom whenever I stand, turn my head, turn my body, move my eyes too quickly and sit down. Heaven help me if I have to tip my head and look up.

Tomorrow I'm determined that I'm going to start negotiations to get the truck sold. Boy and I will be going out in the late morning to start that. I'm hoping that I'll get it sold by Wednesday. We'll see. Either way, it'll be started. I wish I could go out of town to do this as I could get a better price, but I wouldn't have a ride back to Saskatoon.

I found more murder and mayhem full episode channel on You Tube. They disappear now and then because of copyright infringement, but they always reappear. This one is a totally new one. Right now I'm watching one about Herb Baumeister, a man who is thought to have murdered a large number of gay men. He was a very closeted gay man (married with kids, religious, etc) who picked up gay men in Indianapolis and then strangled them. The way he got them off their guard was to tell them about erotic asphyxia. It's theorized that the first death was an accident and he got a thrill from that. From then on there was no turning back for him. He killed himself in Canada (he managed to leave the USA because of the incompetence of an idiot twat waffle (my new favourite name for those very "special" people) sheriff. They have also theorized that he was the I-70 killer. The bodies of gay men were found up and down the highway for a period of time. After he and his wife purchased a rural home (18 acres), he started leaving the bodies around his property. Anyway, if you're interested, just type his name into the search window of You Tube and you can watch the video for yourself.

Today I did a pee test. More precisely, I made a resident (female) pee into a little plastic container, labelled it and put it in the fridge to be taken to the parole office for them to ship it off to the lab tomorrow. It's one of the more exciting things I have to do for my job.

I had more sticky dreams. I hate those. The colour the entire day. One was about school, again. I haven't been in university since 2010. I didn't take any science, English or history classes. This one involved physics. I had attended a physics class, but had the feeling it was one of the few I'd been at. I had to write up two experiments, one a theoretical mind experiment, another had to actually been done. Oddly enough, in my dream, I did homework. Yes, I did homework. That in itself is very weird. Then I had to get to my classes. I had no idea when they were. I had to go to my online calendar to see where and when they were. At the time I was looking them up, I was supposed to be in class. So I made an excuse for not going. The weird thing was that it was the university web site, but the class I was taking was at a technical school in my old home town. I was living with my parents, but they weren't there. It was weird and left me in a mood all day yesterday. Last night the dream involved Boy but it wasn't him. I mean, the face and such was Boy, but it was supposed to be someone else. I guess this makes sense considering that supposedly we only see the faces of people we already know. The fatigue of these dreams continues to hang on. Sticky dreams tend to be very clear dreams. Interestingly, articles I've read about these kinds of vivid dreams either indicate brain damage occurring or else I'm a really creative person and my brain activity reflects that aspect of myself. Right now, I'd be more prone to believe the brain damage part.

The Long Weekend That Never Was

Being short-staffed sucks sometimes. there was no one who was able to work the midnight to 8 am shift on Wednesday so I covered. I didn't have to, but my two supervisors would have had to work the shift. They would have divided it between the two of them. One has a baby under 2years and the other is a day person. So being the kind, wonderful person that I am, after only about 3 hours in the previous 36, I covered the shift. When I got home there was no dallying in going to bed and certainly no dallying in falling asleep. I don't remember much after laying my head down. Of course, this meant that the truck didn't get sold. I guess that's next Tuesday's work.

Having to work meant that my long weekend didn't happen. I'll be taking my time-in-lieu on June 4. I could take it in pay, but taxes always snag too much. I'd rather have the time off. I had already booked the time off and was going to use a vacation day to cover it. Now I don't have to. There are new staff coming on board soon, so once their training is complete I have a better chance of actually taking a sick day off rather than having to tough it out and come in. What a concept!

The truck got detailed on Tuesday. This was the reason I was so tired on the work shift I filled as I was unable to fall asleep on Monday night. This meant that the last time I'd slept was Monday in early afternoon. I took the truck to Caliber Home and Auto (they spelled Calibre wrong, they also do furnace duct cleaning) to get detailed. I took it there because it was the first one who could take the truck before mid-July. They did an awesome job. I'm sure there were things shining that hadn't ever shined in the time we owned the truck. As well, the windows were better than crystal clear. Not only were things shining, but the truck smells a whole lot nicer than it did before. I was always getting the odd whiff of cigarette smoke in the truck. No one smoked in it after we bought it, it was from previous owners. Now there's nothing but a pleasant, clean smell.

After the truck is sold (hopefully by Thursday next week) I'm getting my truck fully detailed, inside and out. I'm even going to have my engine washed. It's expensive, but betting the entire thing dome means: 1. I don't have to try to do that; 2. the leather seats will be conditioned, something that should be done anyway; 3. component parts get cleaned and reduce corrosion issues; 4. I don't have to try to get the last bumper sticker off my truck, they can do it. I think that's reason enough, not that I have to justify it, but a really good hand wax job will last a whole lot longer from the detailing shop than it does from a quickie touchless car wash.

I have decided to stop waxing off my mustache. I have a fine growth of middle-aged, post-menopausal facial hair under my nose. I had been waxing it off when I noticed it, but have since thought better of that. First off, it hurts. It hurts a lot. Don't let anyone tell you any different. Second, who the hell cares? I'll still pluck the chin hairs. They stick out and I don't like them.

On that note, I'll stop here.

So. Today is Saturday. I’m struggling, or rather still struggling. I don’t know how to grieve. Is there a right way to grieve, a wrong way? I’m not a person who is willing to show a lot of painful stuff. I don’t generally cry in public. That takes an overwhelming amount of stress. I’m not overwhelmed. I’m just not alright. I don’t know if I’ll ever be alright.

I sometimes wonder if I'll ever want to search for someone else to spend my life with. It's a purely intellectual exercise. Anyone who would want to spend time with me would have to 1. be okay with not having sex with me; 2. be okay with not getting a whole lot of snuggling; 3. understand that I need a lot of alone time; 4. understand that I'm peopled out really easily; 5. understand that my work requires that I keep many things confidential. Think there's anyone in the world okay with those things? Yeah. Neither do I. However, all that's moot since I don't want to have anyone else in my life. It's not that I feel like I'd be dishonouring Thomas in any way, he'd want me to be happy. It's that getting, forming and maintaining a relationship, especially a close relationship, is very energy intensive. I don't have that energy.

 

Just Stumbling Along

Powerful Photos

You'll either feel so much smarter, or feel your IQ descend into the abyss

What women carry to protect themselves that men don't even think about

Historical photographs

Colour palettes created from nature

Wall art that can be done with or without kids

A recipe that looks really good for summer (I'd have to find some other kind of yellow vegetable because I can't eat corn)

Nature proving that what shouldn't exist actually exists and makes scientists rethink their ideas of what should and shouldn't exist

Tying the perfect bow

We're getting rather pathetic

Prison, Penguins and Poltergeists

I talked to a co-worker about my prison/illegal activity dreams and according to the dream dictionary, I’m having issues of feeling trapped, or oppressed. That’s interesting. Sort of. I don’t know how accurate that is, but it’s interesting.

What to talk about today. I’m back at work after two days off. My weekends are entirely too short. This coming weekend is Victoria Day long weekend, so I have Monday off. Then after one regular week, I have another long weekend. I’m rather looking forward to my long weekends. Boy is doing laundry on Monday so I’ll have clean clothes, though he’s doing some tomorrow to ensure I make it to then. I totally forgot yesterday. I lead such an exciting life.

Today’s Aunty Acid calendar quote is funny. “Three out of the four voices in my head want to sleep…the other wants to know if penguins have knees. I wonder if they do. Apparently they do according to the New England Aquarium’s site. Learn a new thing every day.

I finished watching all the episodes of The Dead Files. I know that they put only the most exciting cases on but how many ghosts can there be that want to kill the living? Then I got to wondering if I’m making imprints, residuals, on the places that I live. I have gone through some very trying times (as have most people) and I wonder if some of my emotional issues are (or have been) left behind to bother some poor sucker after I’ve departed this mortal coil. Would I become a conscious entity (more conscious than I usually am) in some place that I’ve lived in? It’s interesting to contemplate.

Important Stuff From the Internet

I don't put spoilers up. It's a thing.

Illegal Dream

I've had another sticky dream

This time, a friend of mine (I can't remember who it was now) was molesting (I think) and murdering girls. For some reason I either made quilting squares and quilts from the clothing of those dead children. I don't remember if I knew the source of the material, or whether I took the clothing apart to make swatches, but I sewed them together, smallish squares. They were rich colours like red and green and sewed together with more skill than I know I possess awake. I came to know somehow, after having some of the swatches sewn together, that the material came from the clothing of murdered children. I was struggling with telling the police, because it was a crime, but wavered because I would end up in jail and lose my job because of my complicity in the crimes. I was wakened from the dream by Boy needing a ride to work before the resolution of the dream (if there was one to come).

I know that I haven't accepted gifts from friends associated with criminal activity, so my brain is trying to make sense of something, I just don't know what.

Photo

A snowy day when I was still in university, circa 2010ish.

Toilet Paper Sticking to My Heel

I've got a sticky dream. Since I've gotten off of Paxil, my active dreaming has significantly reduced. Once in a while I get to dreaming one that I can remember for a few days. Rarely I get one that sticks too long. This is one of them.

I dreamed that I was in prison for something to do with the internet or computers. I can't recall exactly. I was to be housed in a dormitory type environment. There were the usual threatening individuals who were promising harm to me. I wasn't impressed and my attitude was basically "bring it on." I spent a lot of time in my dream waiting. I waited for bedding. I waited to complain about being forced to participate in a psychodrama program (I refused to) that was run by a former co-worker. I waited to speak to a dietician. I wasn't feeling afraid, but I was frustrated.

So, in my analysis (because I'm an expert on dreams) I figure that I'm feeling imprisoned by my continued, low grade grief. I need to sell Thomas's truck. It's beyond stupid hanging on to it, but I have major issues in terms of getting it ready. My mood dips into the depths of Hades when I try to get out and clean the truck. So, today I booked an appointment at a detailing place to have the inside of the truck thoroughly cleaned out. This saves both Boy and I the work and eases my mind about progressing toward getting the truck sold. Boy went out today (being the wonderful person he is) and took off glue from a bumper sticker that had been on a window and removed another from the tailgate.

So that's how things are. I'm still stuck.I'm working at getting myself out of being stuck, but I'm still stuck.

Another Photo, Because I Can

I miss him.

Words Upon Words

Stick my hands inside and pull them out.

I used to write a lot several years ago. I didn’t seem to have any trouble coming up with things to talk about to the ether that is the internet. People would drop by and read snippets of my life, comment (mostly not) and then go on their way. I’ve “met” some nice people through that activity. I started actually blogging when Diary-X was extant. I started on November 11, 2001. No, that wasn’t a coincidence. I needed some way of processing the images of that day. My blog was private for about a month or so, then Thomas showed me how to open it up to other readers. At that same time I learned how to find other blogs to read. At its height, I was reading over 40 blogs a day. I have pruned that down to 5 or so. Some people have pretty much stopped updating. I’m curious as to what their lives are like now.

In the years of going to school, I stopped blogging as much, partly because I was always reading and writing for school, and partly because I didn’t feel like I had much to say. Then, when Dad died, it was like my entire creative spirit was drained. That’s pretty much when things stopped. After Thomas died, I had lost the ability to express myself, being lost in the grief of the time. The grief and hurt is still very much extant, but I want a way of processing it that doesn’t involve just sitting in it. I think I’m done with the wallowing. Maybe.

I have been experiencing poetic moments, times when I speak and the poetry is there. The synthesis of words just comes, flows out as if I were an overflowing well. Thus far, I’ve not had paper or pen, or the ability to write at the time (like when I’m driving). I can’t use a recorder because of the risk of distracted driving and I can't read my mental notes. A pox on my process of middle age that leaves me forgetting things.

It’s all about words, spoken and written.

Found A New Show

It's called The Dead Files. It involves a psychic and a retired NYPD homicide detective. The two go out and help people who are having paranormal issues. The premise of the show is the two of them doing independent investigations. She has a cameraman (and crew I assume, since they also show him shooting her with a little video cam) who goes to the sites to take down or cover up personal photos, mirrors, etc. that she says may distract the reading of the house. Sometimes she sits down with an artist to sketch out some of the entities she sees. The cop does what a cop does, talks to witnesses, worried home owners, historians, and does news/library research into the property where the issues are happening. Then, the two get together at the end of the show and merge their research. If They don't share information, then the show is pretty good. Anyway, I'm rather enjoying it and it's way better than the ghost hunters that run around starting at shadows and asking each other what that noise was. She make no pretense of that, they don't show "ghosts" and she actually recommends that people don't go searching out ghosts and that. Basically her attitude is that the shades can be gotten rid of, let the dead stay dead and don't fuck with what you don' know. Now, it's off to bed for Bonzo. I have to work day shifts this weekend.

Biblical Stuff

For some reason there was a comment on my blog about homosexuality and sinning. Weird.

A photo of a bee I took while out on a walk at Cranberry Flats not far from Saskatoon. I went there with Thomas the summer before he died.

Contemplating Restarting Writing

I think I might restart blogging again. If I do, it'll be a lot of things, random internet things, recipes, news of my life, perhaps some poetry ideas or poetry. I decided to cancel my personal blog site because a) it cost money and I wasn't using it and b) it cost money and I wasn't using it. We'll see how things go. I guess this is a start.