November 30th, 2014

2013, cyd, new

My Head is so Full of Stuff

I did so much reading on the web last night, I feel like words are streaming out of my ears. I am holding them in with headphones.

I read some disturbing mormon history. An article on schizophrenia maybe not being a mental illness, but something else, what else, I'm not sure, the article was technical and confusing. And several articles on rehabbing hoarded cats.

Summation: The mormons-people, adults, actually believe this stuff? Horded cats-you need love and patience. Schizophrenia-it's complicated.

I have filled in some of my memories of Seminary in high school. And learned that my ancestor wasn't involved with either massacre that occurred in Utah by the pioneers during the early church days. So my mom lied about that, too. There's a bunch of white guilt that I can use the eraser on. I'm officially turning my back on my mormon heritage and turning to my Swedish heritage. I will simply ignore the part of my family that came from the bastard children of the Fathers of the Church.

I've been on reddit at r/exmormon. That's where I'm learning a lot. They answer my questions, no matter how dumb. So, there are safe corners of reddit. And Wikipedia. They've got gobs of Basic mormon history that will gladly lead you to more detailed articles.

How did Falco make German sound, I hate to say it, but gay? I love listening to german, except Der Kommissar. The German in that song just sounds off. I find it annoying. Skip.

I got a mass message from Andy Behrman yesterday. It was about stigma and fear. He's kind of the star of the Twitter mental illness set. So, to be noticed by him was kind of a big deal to me.

I'm coming up on 700 followers. I'm kind of blown away, because the last 100 have just happened over the past few weeks. They still don't RT me. Creeps. I RT everyone. my TL is mostly RTs. you see it, the tweets come up on here. anything with a RT in front of it means I shared from someone else's tweet. I will never get the hang of social media. this is MySpace all over again.

There's a new guy on my FB. He had two friends in common with me and wasn't from the middle east, so I added him as a friend. He zeroed in on the picture of me in bra and undone jeans, documenting my weight. Gave advice regarding lingerie, and assured me I looked fine. And then pushed it just a little further and stopped right before i got uncomfortable. So we'll see where this goes. I don't want to be sexy and wear lingerie, I'm a tomboy. I want cotton, not silk and lace. lace tears, silk runs. too much bother.

I found my yearbook last night and looked up that guy from FB who's been challenging me. I don't recognize him AT ALL. He was in marching band, so he knew a couple of people I knew, and of course he knew Leslie, she knew everyone. I may have met him during the spring musical, because my good friend (who won't friend me on FB now) and my mom worked on the musical. I was around a lot during the rehearsals. But I swear I do not know him. So he's making assumptions about me based on 25 year old misinformation. What a tool.

Here's a CALL FOR HELP: I read this article last night about schizophrenia maybe not beig a mental illness, but I got lost in it and missed the point. http://bit.ly/1yp8fGh is the article. If you are at all science minded and would care to read it and help summarize it for me so I can understand it, I would be much obliged. I really need to understand it so I can talk to my shrink about it.

Did you know that studies show that schizophrenics are more prone to develop Alzheimers? So that's something to look forward to. But that article, it is like it was written in some foreign language that I only knew a few words of. I really need help with that. If any of you have free time.

So, all of the websites about rehabbing a hoarded kitty say the same thing, you need a lot of patience and a lot of love. Especially with the ones that were caged. When I got up this morning, Boomer was curled up in the sink in the quarantine room. Doc said she had come out for a couple of hours in the early morning. She's closed in for now, but I'll let her out in a couple of hours. She's sleeping right now, anyway. So this is going to take time and be a challenge. I can handle it. I can make her all better. Time and love are two things I have a whole bunch of.

I want Doc to wake up. I miss him. He has work tonight. And he's napping now so he can go over to B's today, which will put his main sleep into nap form, because he spends a lot of time when he goes over. Last night I was joking around about the big-ass truck's transmission and B working on it (it's important here that you know what B looks like, you're familiar with Golllum?), and I commented that all we really needed to do was boost him up into the engine with his tools and let him crawl around in it for a while. Doc said, "You're such a bitch," which, yeah, I am to B, because I know the shit he talks about me to Doc. See, the engine of the big-ass truck comes up to B's chin. He literally will have to climb up onto the truck to work on the engine.
2013, cyd, new

My tweets

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2013, cyd, new

And they still owe me a box of xmas ornaments.

I'm doing a quality control check on the crop tonight, so I'm trying to get as sober as I can. I'm ready to stab a bitch, so I'd say I'm pretty much there. We have to sacrifice two of our plants because allotted room under light. There are two that are under performing, so I got a sampling of buds from them today to try tonight without any curing or proper drying just to see where it's at. The strong plants still have another two or three weeks on nutes and light and then the hanging and drying, then the trimming and curing. Then it's mine, all mine.

Boomer likes to watch TV. She curled up next to me on the couch today and watched Burn Notice with me. She really likes the explosions. She gets really into it, so when something does blow up, she jumps a little bit. It is so freaking cute! I knew she was special when I saw her picture on the website. Now I know that she needed me, and I needed her. And she is relaxing bit by bit and showing her true personality. She likes to be up. So I'm going to clear some of the computer desk's upper shelves for her to climb on.

I didn't dare tell Doc I did all that reading on the church last night. he would have bopped me on the forehead. It's the only solid way I can get some of that time back. Ideally, my old friend in CA would send me my old letters to him, and my mom would relent and give me the photos from my childhood. But neither of those things is going to happen because neither of those people are interested in my healing. So I'm left with few choices. I am determined to put as much of my life back together just long enough to look at it and learn what I can, and then let it go. But the holes, the gaps, they are unbearable.

I found my alter ego on the web. It has me living at my parent's address. That's cool with me. Weird internet stalkers can go murder them in their sleep. At least then I might get the photographs. There is no address info for Cydniey Buffers. There used to be a PO Box connected to me, again, that's in PA, sure, go look for me there. Take a warm coat.

But my spoken word has been stolen and distributed far and wide. I'm credited everywhere, so I don't mind. I just have absolutely no idea how much exposure I've had because of it. And a couple of them come up pretty high in the search. Even before my twitter account. the big problem is that my site, fabulousdisaster.com is way down in the pages of the search. so people aren't finding that by knowing my name unless they are really looking. In fact, zenweb.net comes up before fabulousdisaster.com. though the first leads to the second.

I am becoming obsessed with getting noticed again. with my talent getting recognized by someone with the power and desire to do something about it. I'm looking for something in a small cult following with occasional mentions in the main stream print/web media. I've been trying this various ways for 14 years. Nothing seems to work. Going viral is all about getting noticed by the one right person. And so far, none of those people have discovered me. Maybe if my name had been attached to my tweet on the Joy Reid show on MSNBC on Halloween, it would be different.

My writing is witty, powerful, and illicits a strong reaction from the readers. I cross promote myself on several social media platforms, without seeming pushy and all about the promotion. I have a friend who's twitter account consists of bragging, self-promotion, and thanking new followers. That's it. Oh, and one complaint about how people just use twitter for self-promotion. I used to re-tweet his promotional stuff for him, but he never did with mine. so fuck him. Funny enough, he's the one holding onto the letters I sent him for several years during my teens that would fill in high school for me. And his writing sucks. It is pompous, self-serving, and sophomoric. He sent me the first novel he published, and I can't even read it. It's so obvious it was written mainly in high school and not changed a lot in the years between then and its publication. My parents were so right to hate him, but for the wrong reasons. They should have hated him for being a self-righteous jack ass.

Yeah, I don't really keep friends. Except Kelli and Doc. They are different from anyone else. They both have been willing to make the sacrifices it takes to love me. And I don't know how. I could never do it. What they do. I could never take care of someone like me. I don't have the patience or compassion. I am way way way too self-centered. That was the first thing they both had to learn. That I was wrapped up in myself didn't mean I didn't love them any less. It just meant that the illness had gotten control and I was wrapped up in my blanket of selfishness. For survival reasons. But they are the ones that lead me out of the stores when my eyes glaze over and I start shaking my head no, and do the shopping later, without me. They are the ones that order the food because I am afraid of the waiter. They are the ones who go out to the mailbox when all I can do is stand in the doorway looking out, shaking violently and crying silently because I can't step outside. They remind me to take my meds when I seem off. They are the ones that deal with my rage at that question (built in response from my days with my parents that I really need to drop). It takes special people to do that. Right now, Kelli does what she can from across the country while her nephew grows up. Doc has most of the burden, though when I'm really out of control, I call Kelli.

I'm bored. Boomer needs to come back out. She has shown a definite preference for me. But she likes Doc, too. She just comes to me when she is scared or faced by another cat. She's still in hiss and growl phase. We just let her go. It's important that she is allowed to establish her own boundaries with each of them. And Chewy is her staunch defender and knight in shining fur. Felix dared growl back at her today and Chewy put Felix's whole face in his mouth for a moment. and then backed off and snorted at Felix. I am guessing that is Border Terrier for "Leave my kitty alone, derp face."

I was thinking about that email correspondence i was getting last year from my "brother". I wonder if it was him, or if it really was my mom. As soon as I told the person I didn't fully believe it wasn't my mom fucking with me, I stopped hearing from them. But that was the same time I gave the person "friend" access to this tome. And if it was Kelly, my brother, there is a lot that could have chased him away. I was pretty delusional when I wrote the stuff they wanted access to.

On Thanksgiving, my cousin, Teneal, the one I was never even told I had, and I discovered we're not speaking to anyone in our family except each other. I think my mother outed her to my Nana. That's just the kind of thing my mother would relish doing. "Oh, did I faux pas?" It's funny, Teneal was always really creeped out by my dad. She wasn't surprised to find out he actually is a creep. I never bothered to tell her that Doc and her dad almost got into a fist fight at New Year's day dinner,2000. And, still, Doc married me. I guess he was figuring he could eventually have the entire family killed if they bothered me. So far they have left me alone. Aside from the occasional passive aggressive note from my mom on FB.

And they still owe me a box of xmas ornaments.