May 19th, 2015

2013, cyd, new

In lieu of a birthday party, I'm having a pity party complete with pouty lips and staring into space

Yeah, I had a lot to do today, and I did none of it. It's my birthday, and I didn't feel like it.

I woke up this morning to Doc's new "I-will-lash-out-and-aim-to-wound-anytime-I'm-feeling-frustrated" policy of living. You want to act like a psychotic? It's never worked for me, let me know how it works for you. So my morning was him flipping out and slamming doors in my face.

Then he went to sleep, while I waited to fix a billing problem behind a long story with my shrink. Stomach in knots all day over that. No weed to help with it. I finally found a work around, so I don't have to miss my Thursday appointment or shell out $200 to go.

Then Doc woke up early, I thought, "oh, how sweet, he's up early to get me a cake or some pot or something for my birthday," but no. He finally checked his texts on his phone and saw one from Kelli to me saying happy birthday. And he said, "Oh, is today your birthday?" He got his days confused or some shit, what-the-fuck-ever. Then he sat here, not talking to me until it was time to get ready for work. Not weed appeared. My first sober birthday since high school. Yay? So, no cake then? No, not with my teeth. Can I make myself cookies? Nope, not with my teeth. Do I want pizza? I can't bite into it, not with my teeth. He had promised Chinese on Sunday.

Then I went to get the mail. There was no package at the door. There were no cards in the mail box. Just a piece of junk mail for me from Geico. I haven't had an active Driver's License for 12 years. Way to target your market, Gecko People.

I must really suck as a human being. Thanks to Facebook's birthday reminders, I got many happy birthdays on there. But if you have to be prompted . . .

I am in the most negative of moods. Looking forward to a long night of sobriety. I will not touch the vodka. It's Doc's premium vodka, and he would be mad. And I would most likely drink myself to blackout state and beat myself up again like the last time I drank vodka. So, sober night. Whee.

If Cryo and I can figure out what the deal is with the cam software uploading, maybe I will paint on cam tonight, but I am not counting on it.

I have four books on WordPress to read, and no patience for the tech talk. I've been so intimidated by WP for so long, this seems like a jump off a cliff. And I have to get it together before I can complete and start spreading around my Patreon participation and looking for patrons. Why so difficult?

Why have I been such and evil sick person for so long that I have alienated almost everyone who could help me? I feel evil. I feel like I am being punished by karma. And no part of me feels I don't deserve it.

Doc had to stop me working last night. I was really frantic, on the verge of manic. And he didn't want to hear anything about what it was that had put me in that state. There is an embargo on talking about my art/work to him. I told him I had found a poem I had written about my dead cat, Henry, nothing else, just that I had found a poem. And he said, "Why don't you ever know when to shut the fuck up?" So I spent an hour sulking on the patio in the cold and then took my meds and went to bed.

I tried to tell him about Patreon, and he couldn't understand why anyone would want to pay for my mp3s, or videos, or live cam arting. He couldn't see how those could possibly be rewards for someone's money. Thanks, asshole. You just spent $175 for a t-shirt, CD and ukulele from Julia Nunes' Kickstarter. She's a youtube "star". In his opinion, she has something to offer. Something of value, her songs. I don't create anything of value as far as he is concerned. CR is the only thing holding my head above water right now. Thoughts of collaborating are the thoughts I cling to. Doc is quickly fading into a member of my family, someone obligated to be near me that thinks of what I do as shit with no value to anyone but myself.

HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY CYD.

And, he's gone for the night. Off to work on his bike. It's just me and the cats and waiting for an email from Cryo. Little does he know, when we finish with this little problem, I'm going to hit him with the WordPress issue, which may just bring him here to wring my neck. At least I'd get to finally meet him before he chokes the life out of me for being a problem child to his business for so many years.

I think I need to read more of "The Art of Asking", I'm starting to lose my nerve. I've had such fantastic results recently from taking chances and asking, that I'm afraid it's going to run out if I don't finish the lessons Amanda Palmer is teaching in her book.

All I can do now is repeat myself, or make it worse with more self-pitying adjectives and metaphors. So, I'm going to quit while I'm behind.