Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

I Got Some Sleep

Dear Diary,

dear diaryI thought I would have a Patreon post by now, but, no. Not yet. I don’t want to post the new piece before it has a chance to fully cure, because, according to websites in the know, it will change over the next couple of days. I used too much gel medium, and it’s name is a misnomer, it isn’t a gel at all. It is a thick paste I tried to apply with the recommended foam brush. I learned today that a plastic squeegee is the most efficient thing. So I have to wait a few extra days for the medium to dry and cure completely before I can finish it. So far, it looks really cool. I don’t know if I will lose what I have so far when I have to take my next step, but I got pictures, good pictures of it in process.

Doc started listening to Adele’s new CD today to prepare for Sunday night’s Valentine’s concert in London on BBCAmerica. The Brits know how to do Valentine’s day. We will gorge ourselves on left-over xmas candy, cuddle with Butch, the unicorn and watch the concert. He doesn’t like “Hello” very much. He likes her older work better. “She’s got to grow up,” I told him. Her music is just going to develop with age. Hopefully she won’t hit middle age and go full-Madonna, but I really don’t see that for Adele.

We talked about things last night without emotions other than good will and compassion. No tears, no raised voices. It was nice. I explained things to him thusly: What triggered me, and what it triggered me back to are too horrific to deal with, the contradiction of the situation is too much for me to cope with. So I, in my mind, quite without my permission, have reverted back to domestic abuse with Douchebag because there is no contradiction, he was fucking psycho. To the point where I am feeling the specific pain of old injuries that he inflicted on me, and I can’t find anything on Google about it and I’m losing my body as well as my mind.

He mentioned I had said the body/mind thing before and he had wondered what I meant. He understood now.

The key is, I have turned off the “Drama/Victim” switch and started to talk honestly with him. Something I haven’t felt I could do for the past two and a half years. We are both victims in the situation we are in, were in, whatever. It’s hard to be vague for me. I wasn’t pregnant. When I used the word “situation”, it struck me that it rang of “knocked up”. No.  It was ultimately something that was completely mis-interpreted by one or both parties. Both of us are hurting. I’m not taking the Victim Status on this one. I want to help us through it so that the marriage doesn’t fall apart.

Doc read “Whiskey Breath”, which now has a title, “Bourbon or Whiskey?” He thought it was about him. Ugh. I told him to read the bottom of the page, he scrolled down to the footnote: “DOES NOT APPLY TO DOC. IS ABOUT DOUCHEBAG, THE ORIGINAL WHISKEY BREATH.” Then he laughed, and asked, “Really?” Yes, really. I won’t let him see the poem about the incident. He will turn on Adele, buy some barbiturates and my razor blades for art will disappear. [Oh, wow, I can sneeze and type correctly at the same time, that has to make me more valuable in the office.] I don’t want to hurt him, I just need to get stuff out sometimes. I try not to include details, too many, at least.

dear diaryI’m being all mysterious lately. Half explanations and inferences. Sorry. Right now, I know who is reading this, but I don’t know who will in the future with the search engine registry. There are some things that I don’t want to be the first impression of me from some random entry.

Some Canon point and shoot enthusiasts, who also knew how to program started writing a hack kit for the Canon p/s models that gives them as close to DSLR capabilities as possible with a fixed lens. It’s collectively called the Canon Hacking Development Kit and you look up your firmware version on the cam, match it to the program, and download the hack and install it on the SD card. So both of my Canons are hacked. The big one is going onto its tripod and into service tomorrow taking pictures of my crop for the Medical Marijuana Community. They really helped me, and I want to show them the fruits of our efforts, so far. This is a better crop than ANY we’ve had since I got my medical card. And since we are only doing three plants at a time, the turnover is quick. I have a new set ready to go into the hot room after this crop is done.

Wow, that escalated quickly. I just spent an hour and a half with them taking pictures and pruning them. Not one of the pictures turned out. So now I can open the shutter longer. If I turn the fan off, and set up the tripod, I should be able to get one usable picture to post on the community to show them what I’ve got. You have no idea how they have helped me.

Did I mention that I broke my glasses and my phone while having my “episode”? Yeah,  the display on my phone is cracked in the upper right hand corner, it doesn’t interfere. And the frames of my glasses are broken, barely holding the lens in. I won’t let Doc glue it because I am convinced glue will get all over the lens. So, I have to get over that. He may just decided to get me new glasses. I kind of need them. I can barely see what I’m typing and it’s just on the coffee table.

dear diaryThere is some wrong deal with me and the patio. I don’t feel safe out there anymore. I don’t know why. I was out there talking to Kelli the other day, smoking a cigarette and all of a sudden, people in all the houses around me were out and making noise right by the walls, so it sounded like they were closing in on me, even Kelli heard them in the background. I haven’t felt alone and safe out there since then. That was during the day. It’s a little better at night. But I think I may put the couch against the wall, I don’t like my back to the dark yard anymore.

I didn’t clean/sand/paint my little chair today like I was going to. Tomorrow it will be 75, I’ll do it tomorrow, no matter when Doc gets up. He got up at 9 this morning, and I got up at 5. I had four hours, and I got a lot done, it was just too cold to go out and mess with stuff outside.I think if I do more stuff outside . . .  Oh, and I removed the thick piece of gaffer tape from the back of the chair, expecting a big crack or break. I had all kinds of plans to putty it before I painted, and then add steel straps to the back for an industrial effect. No crack, no break. Not even residue from the gaffer tape.

I also have to move the giant googly eyes from the front of the house and mount them on the side wall in the back. They glow in the dark, and are being wasted out front behind the truck. I think I will move the bat, which became the xmas bat. I’ll hang him from the center of the ceiling on the patio. Then I have to hang my lights. I think I have a thousand of them. White, tiny. I just can’t decide, around the perimeter, or across the ceiling of the patio.

I’ll make more sugared nuts tomorrow. My teeth aren’t hurting and I can have some of this batch. I worked it out so I can make 1 1/2 of the recipe, instead of doubling it and overflowing the pot. The extra 1/2 should be what I need to make a full batch with the nuts Doc bought me. He needs to get me pecans. We have decided that is the go-to nut in the Spiced Banana Bread. We’re making three batches this weekend, and I am making tiny loaves for his co-workers. I think I’ll make one especially for Mike. No chocolate chips. He hates chocolate. I can’t remember how he feels about bananas. I’ll try, though. Just to show the last 3 1/2 years have mellowed me somewhat, though they haven’t at all.



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