Monday, October 27, 2014


I called in sick today. Just couldn't face it. The med isn't helping. I just can't see a path out of this hell. I've been trying to go to things and make an effort. But I don't have a good time and I fail to make any connections. I went to this thing Friday and it took every bit of what I could remember from my acting days in community theater just to be present and get through it. There were some photos from the Friday thing. Jeez, no wonder I don't make connections. I am hideous. I used to be attractive. It seems a long time ago. Now I look like a fat, mentally challenged street person. It was bothering me that I was losing so much hair in the shower -- I dreaded rubbing the shampoo on my head, so many loose hairs got all over my hands -- so I had my hair cut off short. It is not attractive. Evidently, according to the hairdresser, I am not going bald. The tons of loose hair is probably stress. But the short haircut -- well, add that to everything else and no one would guess that I'm straight. I guess I'm still straight. Do I still have a sexual orientation?

I've decided to stop using Facebook. It just makes me feel sad. My posts obviously don't show up in most people's news feeds. But it's just another place where I don't connect and get to watch other people connect. I am a failure in social media, too. Even pictures of Buddha -- the best thing I have to offer -- don't make a difference. Twitter, too.

I had an informational interview last Tuesday. Boston Scientific. Technical Writer II. Kathleen at work knows a tech writer there and that person got me an interview with her boss. It seemed promising at the time. I thought I had managed to look competent and friendly. I thought it had gone well. I sent thank yous. I've done what I can. I left thinking that I might still have some it of functionality left. But now I haven't heard anything. It was probably another failure.

The list of things that are going wrong is getting so long. I'm so claustrophobic. I still can't get back in the elevator at work. It's long? I don't know. A year? Two? I haven't been able to take any elevators anywhere. I have trouble locking the stall doors in public bathrooms. I so fear that they will stick and I will be locked in. I tell myself that I have my iPhone. I just will call the place or call the police. Or someone will come in and go get the manager. I am not going to run out of air while stuck in a bathroom stall. But it's a phobia. It's not logical. I don't know how tall the Boston Scientific building is. I walk up four flights at Stratis Health. It's odd, but it's getting harder to do rather than easier over time. It's not only being fat. I think there's something wrong with my heart.

I have trouble driving at night now. The eyes are getting old. The winter will be here soon and I will be driving to work and coming home in the dark. It's not the cold of winter that is hard; it's the darkness. Right now we have been having Indian summer. The light has been beautiful.

More and more I've been thinking of how I could manage to kill myself in the garage. Carbon monoxide. You can't hear 694 when you're in the garage with the door down, so I think it must be pretty air tight. 694 is not far away and is very loud during the rush hours. I was thinking of taking Buddha with me, and I'm not sure how that would work. That would be two breathing the carbon monoxide and that might change things. A dog should be given a quick end. I'm not sure what to do about Buddha.

Gosh, he was terrible on Friday. You'd think he'd never had a bit of training. If you knew him from his visits to nursing homes, you wouldn't have thought it was the same dog. He hurt my shoulder he yanked so hard. And he just kept doing it. It's like he never calmed down the whole evening. This obnoxious woman with Corgis -- I've met her; she's always been unpleasant and snippy to me -- snapped at me because she thought I was offering a treat to her dog when I actually was just holding out my fingers. It's funny how I can know that she's an unpleasant person and yet still feel her angry words like a blow. Everything hurts these days. Everything seems to confirm that I am a failure at life.

My new chairs arrived on Saturday. They're lovely. And I don't care. Everything seems very far away.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Good to the last drop

Buddha likes coffee, with or without half and half. He doesn't like tea of any kind, however. He smells rea, looks disappointed, and walks away from it. But coffee....

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Cone of shame

He stands in the traffic area of any room. Just stands with head down, tail down, body slumped. The picture of despair. If you move from the living room into the kitchen, you turn around to find that he's moved to that traffic area, and is standing in that same attitude of despair. As far as Buddha is concerned, it's not enough to suffer. You have to be seen to be suffering.

Sweet potatoes, fingerling potatoes, onions, shallots, olive oil, and Mrs. Dash