October 15th, 2015

2013, cyd, new

Well, about that laptop

It is still covered under the ASUS warranty. 90 day deal, that, according to their support site, covers refurbished units, like ours. Customer Service doesn't want to honor it. The guy was really sketchy with Doc, wouldn't even admit that he had a copy of the bill of sale, which he did. They want custody of it while they dick us around until the warranty is up in November and it is then covered by our Extended Service Warranty. Nope. I'm not sending it to them. Doc and I talked about it today, and we're just going to blow ASUS off and wait until the Extended Service Warranty kicks in, with the computer in OUR custody. Then we'll get a replacement/money back to get our own replacement.

In the meantime, Doc wants to get me another laptop. He wants to get me the Acer Aspire E-series (which is what I have, so I have the restore disks for it, which the refurbished models do not come with) that I found on newegg. I'm not sure why. He seems to think that I work better with two units. This is true. I multi task so much that this laptop often gets overwhelmed. It needs to be relegated to surfing the web, watching videos and listening to music. An entertainment center, basically. I can have an instructional thing open on this machine while working on the other machine, and I know he wants a machine for himself. I'm just glad he isn't going the "pad" route. I would die if we had one of those tablet things in this house. I hate them. They are the crayons of the computing world. The safety scissors. The giant Lego bricks that kids can't swallow. My malice is showing.

Communication with Doc has all but completely broken down. We can talk about nothing personal. Nothing involving feelings. He has been taking everything I say as a personal attack on him. And I can see why he would be defensive. After 18 years of complete passivity, with the exception of psychotic episodes, the Latuda has made me quite assertive. And not in a bad, overwhelming way. But to Doc, it's a very new thing, and he doesn't know how to feel about it. Suddenly I'm not keeping quiet when he lies to my face, or tries to alter my reality when I KNOW that it is wrong, where I just used to break down crying and repeating, "Nothing is real anymore." Why he would want to see me go through that, rather than deal with the uncomfortableness of a few of his habits, well, I guess I can understand. When you've seen someone suffer for so long, you get kind of dead to it. When it starts speaking up and saying things are unacceptable, I can see where I would wish for the crying, submissive person who would soon be so deep in her head she wouldn't notice the 8 bags of "burnables" piled up around the kitchen she tries to keep as spotless as a commercial kitchen.

He doesn't understand that I commiserate with him on this. He just thinks I'm attacking him. I was explaining to him that I was cranky with him the other morning because I wasn't ready for him to come home. And it wasn't that I wasn't watching the time, I was, but ultimately I am ruled by the rising and setting of the sun. And it was still dark when he got home, and I am so not used to that yet. So I was a wee bit bitchy to him. I was trying to apologize when he stopped me and said, "Can you say anything without making me feel like shit?" We didn't talk again until he was telling me what things to pack in his rucksack for work. And then, only about that. I still don't understand his reaction, but I can kind of see it. I think he thought that I was saying him getting home early was a bad thing. Not at all. But I do have to censor myself when he is home. No wandering through the house screaming Courtney Love songs. No air guitar with the cats. Nothing that weirds him out. It takes a transition, after spending 9 hours screaming Courtney Love songs and playing air guitar with the cats, that's all. I have to down shift. And I wasn't ready that day because the sun wasn't up yet, and here he was, home. No bad on him, more me, for not preparing.

Can someone explain to me why I love this Kanye West song? It's got Daft Punk. I hate the lyrics. But his rhythm over the Daft Punk is great. I hate it's him. It's "Stronger". Music by Daft Punk. Really the only Daft Punk song I like. This song is a complete anomaly in my music catalog. And I don't understand at all. Does anyone else have that one secret song they would never admit to liking, but in their secret heart of hearts, they turn up in the car when they are alone? If I drove, I would totally blast this song, with the windows up. It would be a great driving song. I put it on every playlist. I can't explain why. I despise the man and everything about him. His lyrics are simplistic to a 7 year old, his ego is simplistic to anyone with any understanding of psychology, and his marriage . . . well, I actually sympathize with his baby-making machine, Kim, on this one. See, he's got me feeling sorry for a worthless Kardashian. Fukken pathetic.

So, let me throw an idea at you all. I'm creating the photo galleries for my portfolio, and I'm thinking, for the Photoshop section, having the altered picture in full size, of course, with a thumbnail of the original photo in the bottom right hand corner of the picture. Only taking up a hundred pixels square or so. That way a prospective client can see what I am capable of from beginning to end. Think this is a good idea, or no?

I can't believe I'm talking about prospective clients. I was offered a position in the graphics department of an automotive company recently. It was an on-site job in PA, so I didn't even consider it, or mention it. They went off of what little I have on my site now, and my social media accounts. It says a lot that they were willing to take a chance on a loose canon like me, they just couldn't do telecommuting, which is a shame. I am determined never to set foot in a corporate office building again, if I can possibly help it.

I guess I can tell you guys now, Doc got called up for jury duty last week. He was eliminated from the primary pool, apparently the state's attorney didn't care for his sympathetic attitudes for mental illness. Actual jury selection for the case started yesterday. It's a case that is in the news. There was a shooting on the Strip a couple years ago that resulted in some deaths from car accidents, including the mangling of a brand new Maserati. When Doc got dismissed, he initially thought there was a plea, but no, on the news Monday, we saw the report of the jury selection for those who made it past the preliminary pool. I'm kind of glad he didn't have to do that. Obviously the shooter was impaired, but from the sound of it, there will be a mental capacity "at the time of the incident" question brought up. That would have been taxing on Doc, as the lawyers guessed. Pretty cool, though, his first call to jury duty and he gets a big case.

I got a card months ago about putting my name in the jury pool. I took it to Doctor B with a scared look on my face and he said he would take care of it. I've heard nothing else about it. I assume he sent a letter explaining I couldn't be alone and out of the house at the same time and would require that a care-giver be with me during the whole process. That'll scare them off.

Oh, shit, see, it's almost 5am. Doc will be home in two hours. And I have been a complete flake tonight. I hung my laundry and took the opportunity (I'm out of sugar) to wash my sugar dispenser. I have this really big (like 3XL) white denim jacket. And I am just dying to do something to it. But I don't know what. My normal art is not suitable, because I wouldn't wear my art. It's too colorful. I have a long sleeve tie-dye that I love, but I can't wear it because when my arms move, I get vertigo. So, painting, or ink printing the jacket might look cool, but I wouldn't wear it then. I'm thinking of finding an artist and having them paint the Alarm's trademark red poppy on the back and maybe their name down one of the arms, in their font. This goes with my idea of having the logo of Big Country's "Big Country" LP painted on the back of my leather. Maybe with "Husker Du" down one sleeve. That's one of my leathers. My soft one. The other one, I don't want to paint. It's a biker jacket, really old, vintage to the max. It's still stiff. Even though it was worn every day for almost 30 years. It has too much history that I don't know for me to brand it. As far as my soft leather goes, I've made the history with that. And if I want to immortalize Big Country and Husker Du on the same jacket, well, fuck it, I'm schizophrenic. To me, it makes sense.

Do you remember those Italian slider link bracelets from a few years ago? They were like watch bands, and in fact, many came with watches. They had little charms on them, or gems, or letters. I found two of those I have from way back then. One says "mad DIY vox". "Vox" is latin for "voice". I also made things to glue to them. They say, "freak", "geek", and "speak", and one has a six-shooter on it. Most of the tiny gems have come off, but I still like the critters. I put them on my right wrist, which is the hand I type with when doing it one handed, so I have to keep thin things on that wrist. I was wearing a leather band, but it was too bulky. So now I have two silver rings and two silver bracelets on each hand. I am almost symmetrical.

Holy shit, I got paid today. And there's nothing I want to buy . . . I take that back, I have those boots to get before my new customer discount expires. Are you aware that most of these online apparel places want so badly to hook you that they will practically give you your first purchase? I've found this with three of the four places I've found clothes lately. Especially the discount places. Only 20 more days before I get my two shirts, which are traveling by reindeer via Netherlands Land Post. I hope they are decent quality, so I can order those two dresses and a pair of pants from the same place. It's cheap because it takes forever, I have no problem with waiting.
2013, cyd, new

Clearly, I'm Frustrated

Doc doesn't get this "shopping online" thing. When you find a new place to buy clothes/shoes, they will offer you all manner of discounts to get that initial sale. You also have to consider the availability of sizes. For example, I found a pair of boots online over the weekend. The discounts I was offered for ordering them within 12 hours of registration with the site would put the price at $11. This made Doc suspicious, so I had to drop the issue. Then he brought it up today. I went and looked at the boots. Now, $35, and out of my size. So, I'm out boots, again, this winter. Every other place is out of my size in the boots I like, this was my last chance. Because he was suspicious of a special offer to seal the deal within 12 hours.

Clearly, I'm frustrated. He can't take me out to go shoe shopping, so I have to do it online. And I'm trying to do it on the cheap. I had the boots picked out. In my size. For $11. And they weren't a second or third choice. They were my first choice. First, he insisted that Psycho Bitch left me a pair like them when she left. No, she didn't. She wore a pair like them and left me a pair of stripper boots. It took 15 minutes to convince him of that, and I really don't think I convinced him. I anticipate him rifling through my closet in the near future, looking for them.

I am waiting on people right now. Too many to list. That is the one problem with working manically like I do. I get ahead of people. I cover so many bases, and then my list is empty. Meanwhile, people all have their own things to deal with before they can get back to me, and I usually pose questions to them that they need to think on, so that takes its own time. I should do some physical arting tonight and give my email box time to fill up. And I'm right on the edge of something and I'm really curious as to whether fate is going to push me over, or if it's going to pull me back and give me a tree limb, again. There's a tug-of-war metaphor in there, reach in and get it, would you? I just woke up from a Seroquel sleep and don't have the focus, yet.
2013, cyd, new

Boundaries

My bathroom is my sanctuary. Like my bedroom, I keep it clean and orderly and uncluttered. When I go in there, I expect everything to be the same as when I left it last. Doc was using it for a while, but wouldn't put the seat down or flush, so I stopped him from using it and made him go back to using his bathroom all the time. When I had my thing with bronchitis this spring, we put an electric nebulizer in my bathroom for me to take breathing treatments. I don't use it anymore, Doc does. So he goes into my bathroom almost daily.

Today when I was in cleaning, I noticed that while a couple of hair balls were still in the waste basket, all of the tissues were gone. At first I thought that one of the animals was making off with them, but the hair was untouched. So, when Doc got up for work, I asked him about it.

Me: This may sound weird, but I noticed that all the tissues in my waste basket are missing.
Him: *laughing* I took them out and put them in the "burn bag".
Me: You have no boundaries, do you? *leveling a hate look at him"
Him *laughing more* I guess not.
Me: *staring* I'm not amused.
Him: *makes up some convoluted story about being in the bathroom and just doing it on impulse*
Me: *turns away, stops talking to him until he leaves for work*

I feel so . . . violated is a strong word, but something along those lines. Having your garbage picked through is just . . . uncool.

And, he literally trashed the kitchen again. It took him a half hour, but he used 3 sautee pans, 3 bowls, countless utensils and some kind of spice on the wet counter, so now it is all cemented to the counter. And I will spend another hour in there cleaning it tonight in preparation for him to do it again tomorrow all over again. He's not even bothering to put his dishes in the sink any more. He has gotten to mid-life, and reverted back to the teen-ager he was never allowed to be.

In all the years he has taken care of me, he has never had to clean up after me, but it's all I do for him. I follow him around, picking up clothes, tissue, dishes, glasses. Now, I don't mind being a housewifey, but I'm not living with a toddler, I do expect him to clean up after himself, to a point. I don't mind doing his laundry, in spite of the completely bizarre instructions I must follow to do it "right". I don't mind doing the dishes, but I resent having dishes and trash spread out on all the counter tops that I try to keep sanitized. There's a level of respect I expect him to show me, as I do him for leaving the house every day to go work.

And then the digging through the trash thing. That just broke my camel's back. He can't stack the dishes, but he can dig used tissues out of my trash. Does anyone else see that I am living with a person who may be as crazy as I am? Just in slightly different ways?

I told him about the boots and he had the nerve to tell me I should have been firmer with him (as I recall, once I gave him the information, he stopped looking at me and responding to me), and gotten the boots this weekend. I could have strangled him, if I wasn't so sure he would over power me.

He said the oddest thing to me the other night. I commented that I really thought we would be able to grow old together and enjoy each other's company. He said, no irony, with a straight face, "I figure you'll kill e before that happens."

What the absolute fuck am I supposed to do with that? Needless to say, all jovial conversation stopped for the night and we spent the next few hours in uneasy silence. My husband thinks I'm going to kill him in the future? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? I wonder how he thinks I'm going to do it, as he is easily ten times stronger than me, and much bigger. And when am I to do this dastardly deed? In a sane time? During a psychotic episode? I've already pulled a knife on him twice, and he laughed at me both times and took the piss right out of me.

Tonight is my last night alone for the weekend. My last night up, my last night with the computer. He will take custody of it, play that game until the unit overheats and then lie to me about playing the game. I will turn the computer back on after it cools down, choose the "restore" option on Chrome and watch his game load. He's got a big problem with lying about trivial stuff, and he's not even being careful about it anymore. I keep catching him. And he doesn't even care that I catch him, because he sees no correlation between his lies an my behavior.

Primarily my asexuality. I was pushed over the edge into it completely by something he did, and he knows it, but I don't think he has owned it. More importantly, if we are going to be intimate, it has to be because I want to do it for him, because I never want to do it for me. I have no sexual desires, at all. But, given the right situation, I will please him like that. But I have to really be in like with him first. And every time this week that I have been close to giving in, one of these silly, little, fucking lies comes up and just disgusts me with him. And he doesn't get it. He will wait 20 minutes and then ask if I'm "feeling it" yet. NO. You're a fucking liar and you make me sick. The thought of your hands on my body makes me convulse with repugnance. I am repugged.