September 21st, 2015

2013, cyd, new

The Battle of the Razor Blades

First, let me state for the record that I have never used a razor blade to self-harm. Razor blades help us, I would not do that to them.

I need two clean, single blade razor blades to do a project I saw on Pinterest and am convinced I can improve upon. They need to be new and sharp because I need even coverage scraping paint off of something with a base that is overly sensitive to gouges and scrapes. I have explained this (with visual aids) to Doc. I know he is in possession of two boxes of 100 single edged razor blades.

But he won't give me any. Not even one. He keeps coming to me and saying, "I have a blade I just used on such-and-such, that I can let you have," and I ask him why I can't just have a new one, just one. And he says, why can't I just use a used one? And I explain again to him the several reasons why I need a fresh one, and he says if I'm going to be difficult, he doesn't see why I should have any.

Now, what could possibly be the reason for this odd behavior? He has 200 of the things. In the 18 years we have been together, we have used less than 10, so I don' buy the hoarding for a rainy day thing. I know where they are hidden and could just get one myself and lie to him and tell him I found it in my stuff, but I don't like to lie. We tell each other enough lies to keep things running smoothly, no need to add more to that load when it isn't necessary. So, in that Viking tradition, I will soldier on, and hopefully I will get that elusive razor blade. I even have a scraper holder to put it into, so there is no chance of me cutting myself accidentally.

I also found an idea for the perfect computer nerd desk accessory. Again, I think I can improve on the design I found. I watched a tutorial on how to make it. I have the basics, now to construct one and add the improvements and see if I came up with a win.

The second pony bead bowl I made last night was better, way better. I love it. Only one flaw in the design, which I will fix when I make the last one today (I'm out of pony beads, I never thought I'd be rid of those things).

I also have a couple hundred magazine pages to fold into sturdy strips.

I haven't opened Photoshop for two days. Later, that will come tonight. I hate working in Photoshop during the day. Night time is the right time for Photoshop. Day time is for arts and crafts.

And I have an instructional HDR photo to post at Patreon. My patrons are essentially accompanying me through the learning process of mastering HDR photography. It is a long road, not made easier by my loose tripod. I'm going to oil it and tighten it today so I have no more problems with it. The HDR processors are just not strong enough to help the ghost images I keep coming up with.

But why are the razor blades gone? (points if you guess the movie I bastardized that from, remember the points now count, so make an effort)
2013, cyd, new

Well, he's done it.

Doc has succeeded in chasing me to my room. I was making CD bowls in the oven, and accidentally dropped the hot glass I was using. He got up in a rage and what in hell did I think I was doing, doing something while he slept? I told him it was unfair to expect me to sit still, making no noise what so ever or listening to any music or watching TV for 8 hours a day while he slept. He told me that's the way it was and if I didn't like it, I could leave. Oh, yes, he is in a mood. I sure hope he remembers to get himself up at 4, because I want nothing more to do with him today.

He started the morning with demanding an apology for getting mad over the "Stick Thing" that he ruined it. I told him no way, he owed me an apology. None was forthcoming, so I told him never to speak of it again. He thought I said we should never speak again. I told him I was also open to that as a solution. He thinks this is some kind of joke. People are paying me for this shit now. No, it's not enough to make me rich and famous, but the commitment has been made. And I have to keep up my end of the bargain. He scoffed.

I don't even know what to do with him. I was right about him not noticing a difference with the meds. He said I was just more of a cunt than usual. I used to own that word, he's used it on me so much, it cuts me to the bone. And he knows it. So he's still not sold on the medication. I don't think he ever will be, so let's make the most of the next six days, shall we? I have three more "Pinterest Wins" to process and post. That's on the other laptop. I just grabbed Scout and Blue Max so I could surf the internet and listen to music in here. Or, watch a Disney movie to keep me in my upbeat mood.

Did I mention the LPs? He has laid claim to all of the LPs I have, when I know about 200 of them came from "freecycle". And I can't use any of them until he goes through them and claims them. Oddly enough, I will be making bookends out of records for him to hold his collection together when he gets it out of my room. I' not storing all these albums, thinking I can do what I want with them, if I can't. He can put them in his room and give me a bit more wall space.

He is so mine-mine-mine oriented. For five years we fought over chopsticks. My nana had, at one point, bought me a wok, and with it, a package of cheap chopsticks, printed in gold foil. Gold foil not withstanding, they were cheap, it was a large package. I used them mainly for crafts and art, as I don't use chopsticks (it was a running inside family joke). Sometime during our time together, Doc appropriated the chopsticks as his own and started having hissy fits every time I used one for crafts. Finally I told him to knock it off. I told him the story behind them, and that I was tired of him not letting me use my own shit. I have two small-ish plates that I like to eat everything off of. I am no longer allowed to use them because they are supposed to be special to me. They are. They are my two special eating plates. But he scolds me every time I use one, they should be put away, he say. NO. MY PLATES. I bought them at a thrift store 25 years ago for the express purpose of eating off of them. Microwaving food on them, and dishwashing them. I am allowed to do none of these things with these plates.

I'm going to start calling him Fidel.
2013, cyd, new


Okay, Doc is gone for the night. He took my alarm clock, so I guess I'm not sleeping out here and getting up at 5 to let him in, in the morning tomorrow. Whatever. I can't think about him right now. He is gone, I am out of hiding from my room.

And I am in full-on crisis mode. And I can't say why. Something happened a couple of years ago. Something that never should have happened. And it got triggered today in a BIG ASS WAY. I am totally paranoid and scared and sick to my stomach and oh my christ, I have two bright red stripes going down the front of my thighs, how am I going to hide these from him? And it will just make him angrier and I so well know what he is capable of when he is angry. I want to run away.

He is not a bad person. As the rest of us who aren't bad people, he can be capable of bad things, and making poor decisions that affect people's lives in ways that he cannot fathom. If he were a bad person, I would have left. I have left bad situations in far poorer mental health than I am in now, slept in a car with my cat, the works. I know how to leave a habitually bad situation. That is not what we have here. We have two people who have been together for 18 years, one, after being raised by a bitter, in pain, invalid mother, has found himself caring for his wife, a bitter, in emotional pain, social invalid, and he is burnt the fuck out. He needs to go to Doctor B. I think after today, if he can relax for a minute, might just pound that home.

What we're not going to do is tell him what I did to my legs today. At least not until things calm down. Because he will make the truck work and take me straight to Monte Vista, the psych hospital, and drop me off to go through the intake process alone, and then not come to family conference, or to visit.

I can't say honestly that I won't hurt myself again tonight. It is entirely possible. I've queued up a ton of work to do in Photoshop and things to post on the 3,782 social media sites I post on, so I should be able to keep busy for several hours, not thinking of any of this. And NOT listening to Gaga's new song, under ANY circumstances. The choices are, Irish Punk, Psychobilly, or some old fashioned retro California punk. Or maybe I'll just listen to the soundtrack to Labyrinth, I can't watch the film in this mood, the girl's youthful overacting (which Jennifer Connelley grew out of and became a great actress), just turns me off and makes me wish for the "bulge" or the Muppets, or the scene where one piece of Bowie's weave is so obviously out of place and he is giving a menacing speech. If I were Boggle, I would have laughed right at him and called for hairdressing. Which, maybe he did, editor's floor and all.

I could watch the Gaga/Muppets xmas special from the year before last. That cheers me up. Seeing Kristin What's-her-name (Craig Ferguson's favorite pet guest, she had a feud going with Geoffry the Robot) be all timid and stiff and very very short when face to face with an overdressed for backstage Gaga provides me nothing but humor. But it's jealousy and schadenfreude. What I wouldn't give to spend three awkward scripted minutes with the Mother Monster. I would be positively dumbstruck. Kristin was at least able to recite her lines with a bit of convincing.

And Miss Piggy is just tired in this. I'm go glad Kermie has a new lady friend, I hope she is as talented as Piggy, but without all the feather boas and sexy men and sequins and more hair changes than that millennial singer who always wears wigs (insert name of first vapid pop star that comes to mind).

Or, I could watch "V", with the volume turned down and my Mozart playlist on. They sync up well. I don't know where I got the collection, but it's kind of a greatest hits done by the Australian Symphony Orchestra. I didn't even know that Sydney had a Symphony Orchestra, but I guess it makes sense with the Opera House, and all the national celebrations feature operatic singers. Culture in the outback.

My fucking legs hurt. I have iodine. I have enough Neosporin to cover about an inch of one stripe. I have gauze and tape, of course. The one thing I was proud of in the previously posted picture, no stretch marks. In five or six years, they will have healed and faded to look like one giant stretch mark down the front of my thighs. That will be attractive. Now I can't wear miniskirts (I either wear minis or really long skirts, if I suddenly decide to girl) without tights. Good thing I saved all my tights. They are all opaque, so the scabs won't be visible through them.

I have roughly 9-10 hours before Doc gets back home. I haven' taken my Latuda today, I haven't eaten. I think I'll make another turkey hoagie and Cool Ranch Doritos. Then take it. I only have enough for three turkey hoagies, so that will last me until tomorrow.

The extra Xanax is starting to kick in. My heartbeat has slowed down. I'm not as scared, in fact I think I'll go out and have a cigarette on the back porch and check out the temp. It only got to 95 here today, but high for autumn, but heralding rain clouds. Will still be cool tonight. I'm wondering what time I will open all the windows and let the air circulate. The house always smells so fresh when I do this.

Okay, i just finished a piece called "Stigma Run". And I made a perect pony bead bowl last night. And today I made a ton of CD bowls. Small ones, made on a skinny mold, and larger ones, made with a larger ramekin. The largest ones got wee feet of colored glass. I thought the feet were overkill on the small ones, but damn,they look awesome. Another Pinterest Win. That's three in the last 24 hours. I just have to make the graphics for them.

As far as "Stigma Run", that will be posted to the Patreon Patron board tonight sometime. The Pinterest wins will be posted on Facespace. Both my personal site and my "fan" site, If you haven't liked my "fan" page yet, please do, so FB quits bugging me about getting 100 followers. As an added incentive, I've started giving away my top secret media links, and, if I have them, examples of the posted techniques. Other times it's free music, or stock images or some other link I can't do without.

Okay, I've calmed down. 10 minutes til Scorpion. Time for a hoagie.