Dig me out.

I know it's the oldest cliche to complain about winter in Minnesota, but I feel my whining is warranted given the freakish circumstance.  Today is April 22, 2013 in Minneapolis, MN and we are to expect a winter storm      to bring us 6-8 inches of snow.  About a week ago we had received another 6 inches.  I've seen the sun for a total of 24 minutes in the last 2 months.
 I feel my body getting weaker, I'm craving sunlight and I feel absolutely defeated.  My moods and emotions are vanquished to the point that trying to make my face smile feels like rusty gears turning in my cheeks only to seize up midway.   I am, in so many ways, frozen.

Anybody who wants to challenge that Seasonal Affective Disorder isn't real is my enemy.  If I don't sit under my full spectrum light for at least an hour a day, or miss a med dose, I am more of a wreck than whats sitting before you now.  And I am a sunken ship.  

Between my S.A.D., my desperate longing for sleep and my already present mental instability, I really have no idea how I am able to survive , let alone function everyday.  I guess it's autopilot.  I'm present but not with it.  My actions are emotionless and my emotions are forced.  At the news of last weeks winter storm, I was able to cry and express my frustration and disappointment.  I still had a whisper of feeling.  At the news of today's storm, I went numb.  I could tell that my brain wanted to react and it seemed that my body was looking to it's brain to know how to emote but we couldn't pull it together.  I was drained empty all gone no more to give.  Lackadaisical.  That's a great word.  That's the word for me.  I am lackadaisical.

My genes gave me mental illness.
My job gave me a sleep disorder.
My hometown gave me a mood disorder.

Well, would you look at that?  It almost looks like I can say "See? It's not my fault!"  There are reasons that I am the empty shell left forgotten by it's molting insect.  Just a cast of the girl I used to be.  I would love so much if every few months I could shed off the old, worn out me, and start over new and fresh.  I'd even happily settle for a reset button.

My train of thought is totally lost from falling asleep at the computer for an hour just now.  I guess the only thing for me to do is finish this little nap and dream of long luxurious sleep in my favorite lawn chair on the beach under the hot hot sun for hours and hours.  I would pay to have that back.  I would pay big.

so many jammies and so little sleep.

 

*A belt is not a leash.

It's (kinda, barely) spring in Minneapolis, and the warmer it gets here, especially in the Downtown, Uptown, and South Minneapolis areas, the more we are going to see traveling punks.  Train hoppers, crustys, wanderers, hitchhiking artists, bands, whatever.  Minneapolis has an amazing indie/underground music scene that attracts all sorts of people in the warm seasons, which is great, except for one thing that bothers me greatly; they drag along dogs.

Year after year I see traveling punks on the side of the road flying their signs asking for spare change for the bus, food, a ride, or beer,and along side them lots of times is a sad, dirty, nervous dog with a rope or a belt for a collar/leash.  I understand that you like a companion when traveling across the country in alternative ways, but it's cruel and very very selfish.  Many times I hear these people defend that their dogs come first and eat better than they do, and as much as they want to believe that they are doing right by the dog, it's just not true.

I have been a wild wandering child of punk rock for most of my life and I have seen and done it all.  I've hopped the trains, got lost on the other side of the country, and have been in the company of these people and their dogs.  I kid you not, every single alternative traveling dog I have ever met was a biter.  I'm sure it can't be true for all of them, but it was for the ones Ive been around.  If approached by a stranger, or startled, they will bite.  Hackles go up, teeth bared, you may or may not get a warning growl, but you will get bit.

It's not because they are bad dogs, it may not even be from a bad owner, but it is definitely from bad environment.  These traveling dogs have NO structure.  They have no homes.  They do not know where they will be from hour to hour, and certainly have no idea when or where their next meal will come from.  Even wolves have structure within their packs.   Wolves make a den and go to it every night.  Even if wolves don't eat for 3 days, they know where they will get food.  They KNOW they will kill an animal and they will eat it. They know who is in their pack, where their den is, and how they will eat.
These traveling dogs don't know it their person will provide them a can of dog food, or if they will be eating out of a McDonald's dumpster.  They don't know when they will get the basic need of water.  There is no structure to that lifestyle and it destroys a dogs confidence and makes them feel unsafe.  You are putting a dog in a position where they have to rely on someone they cannot trust.  They may like their person, but they can't trust that their needs will be provided them or that they will be safe.

Here is where I want to come in.  I've wanted to start a rescue organizations of sorts for many years now, and when the time is right in my life, I would like to start with these travellers dogs.  These travellers rely a lot on barter/trade/kindness of strangers lifestyle a lot of time.  I would like to educate these people on how what they are doing to their dogs is very selfish and damaging and only creating  unhappy and unstable dogs.  I'd like to be able to give them cash, or gift cards or food, etc in exchange for finding their dogs loving forever homes.

I think this just may be a Kickstarter project for after I get back in school and get as much behavior knowledge as possible since the dogs I want to rescue will be coming from instability and who knows how they will react to what.
 I'm getting excited that when the time is right this could be a possibility and that I have an amazing and supportive animal loving husband that will help and be at my side through it all.  I can't wait to educate and advocate for these dogs and change the way these punks go on their adventures. To have the decency and selflessness to leave the pups at a stable home.

Until then, I will continue to keep dog food in my car, and when I see these pairs on the side of the road, the human won't get my change, cuz who knows where it will go, but at least the dog can eat.





*this entry was very difficult for me to keep at a reasonable length.  I can go on and on for pages and days on this topic.  If you are interested in learning more, please ask me.

33

It was pointed out to me that my birthday is in less than a month.  It's not even on my radar, it still feels like it's many months from now.  So far this one doesn't have any beginnings of a depressing vibe, so I think I'll have a little fun with it.  There is really nothing that I need, I have my amazing husband who makes me crazy happy, my naughty kitty and greedy doggy, and a great family that all have been really wonderful to me.  I'm set!
But wants are fun.  Here is my daydream birthday wishlist in a frivolously perfect world:

- A slick pair of T.U.K. Mondo Creepers in size 9.  While I'm at it, here is my shoe Pintrest.  Any of these would be just fine.  http://pinterest.com/trazadone/shoes/

- A matching set of this white collar and matching leash for Boppy and me. (Bop and I have the same birthday.  My baby is going to be 10ish!  wow.)

- I am always and forever wanting new tattoos and have endless plans and ideas.  This is one of them:

- A new Klick Klack with underneath storage.

- A new bedroom.

The mirrored furniture from Pier One has always been my ideal dream set.  This is the Jewelry Armoire:

- A fat gift card to Michaels would make me very happy. 

- I'll take rhinoplasty, a boob lift, and my stretch marks erased, please.

- A big ol' gift card to Sephora.

- Patrick Nagel & Dennis Mukai framed prints.  I've had my eye on these girls:

- Fancy clothes, including the perfect pair of lace pants, perfect linen pants and general badass bizarre Maria style.  

- Between 6 and 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep would be heaven.

- I want to adopt a small young dog.  Preferably a mutt, male between 5 and 30 lbs.

 

That's actually what I want the most.  I want to rescue a young little boy dog to join our family.  I know it's not the best idea for a 1 bedroom apartment that's already occupied by a full grown husband, Siberian Husky, deranged cat, and me.  But this is a fantastical wishlist, and I wish for a little friend to love and cuddle me, and to be the best mom and home possible to the little guy.  

I want a small dog.  I want one so bad.  Just a little one.  To have forever.

OK that's my list.  It's just for fun.  For pretend.  I have pink Pajamas with the turtles on them and a Ween shirt.  Time for a nap.

pajamasout.

Dear Neighbor,

If you spent as much time on your lonely, neglected dog as you do on your love life, he wouldn't be such a neurotic, anxious mess.  You destroyed his confidence, energy and personality, most likely damaged for life.

You are disgusting.

SINCERELY,
Neighbor

P.S.
you call yourself a dog trainer?  You bring shame to the honor and make the rest look stupid.
I dislike you immensely.

Stumble in somnambulance so pre-dawn corpses come to life

I don't get a lot of sleep.  Because of my job i have been conditioned to sleep in unfulfilled 2 hour spurts, waking up at the slightest stirring. I'm constantly tired and many days i am delirious, which as a child my mother defined as "you're so tired that you've turned silly."

I have many obstacles in my way of sleep, but one that notably bothers me is that i hate my bedroom.  I hated my bedroom of the previous 7 years, and i hate the one i have now.  It's small, which normally i could deal with but when husband, then boyfriend, moved in it made it all that much more cramped, cluttered, tiny and full of gross boy stuff (i swear his *socks make me want to choke and die a thousand deaths).  There isn't a curtain in there and early in the relationship Nicky was trying to teach me to be more fiscally responsible and to only purchase necessities.  He talked me out of buying curtains and instead tacked up an old blanky that i already disliked in the first place, and now the room gives off a hillbilly trying to keep the sun out of his NASCAR-meth-porn-Dave Matthews den.

I hate it all.  I need a grown up bedroom that i love and want to be in that is my sanctuary.  I need it for my sleep and sanity.  I need it for an escape from the constant pet hair in my life.  I keep the door closed because i need at least one tiny itty bitty space where i am not suffocating forever on fur.  Fur that is another blog for another time.

I have a vision.  I don't know and kind of doubt if this vision will ever be accomplished, but i do have a daydream bedroom.  A luxurious and dark goth bedroom of velvets, crushed and otherwise, lace, and some type of slippery satiny material  that's soothing to touch.  I see many candles, soft lighting and mirrors, not the harsh ugly overhead light with the switch that Nick actually prefers.  Yuck. I envision plush bedding and many pillows to comfort me and prop me up as i read my rock n roll biographies to pull me to sleep.  I see a vanity with a mirror and bench for my fancy perfumes and cosmetics.  All this in blacks, charcoals, carmine, burgundy, lacy whites, metallics, animal print, celestial, art and fantasy.

And everything will have a place.  No more stacks, piles, bags and clutter.  Organization.  Harmony.

Nick was amazing enough to help me start this.  In the past couple days we have cleaned out our dressers, piles and closets. Getting rid of clothes we don't wear, like or that no longer fit.  6 garbage bags of crap we got rid of.  It felt incredible.  Nick can use his dresser properly now and the closet rods are no longer in danger of crashing to the ground.  Next will be clearing out "things".  Stuff in boxes, papers, miscellany.  I can't wait.

Mother is also in strong favor of getting the bedrooms act together and has offered to make me curtains and we're going to go material shopping after my surgery.  Very lovely of her to volunteer.

Little by little and over time I hope it gets better and closer to something that I don't despise and actually feel comfort and achieve sleep in.  It's not right that i have not slept in my own bed with my husband for many many months.  It just plain sucks.

Mother of mercy, I am so tired.

Pajamas on...






*a word i can't even say without gagging.

chapped lips paper cuts and pinking shears

the eyes in my head feel like dirty fingernails and sticky with glue ruining that last bit of craft with the delirium and carelessness of neglectful hand washing.  you could say i'm tired.  but if you said that you'd never be quiet.  My brain told me to walk the dog for her potty, and I wound up in a car that isn't mine in the Super America parking lot.  no dog.  Better get snacks.

pajamas.....somewhere.

Hot Hot Hot

I woke up at 3:30am damp and scared.  I must have had a nightmare because my heart was racing and my jaw was tense from clenching.  I don't remember the nightmare, but I do remember dreaming about Nick tricking me into tasting a pickle pizza.  There was no need for deception since I told him in real life that I believed him that a pickle pizza was tasty and I would try it willingly.

But I was also damp.  Sweaty.  And I know why...It's because my apartment is Equator hot.  I'm living in a prominence with a fireplace inside a small Italian kitchen.  It's satanically hot.  There are old timey radiators in every room that have a knob to control the temp, but whether its barely touched or cranked to 11, it's the same.  African planes suffocatingly angry hot.  I'm going to die of hyperthermia.  But it's OK.  At least I'm not cold.

I can't breathe.