The World According to MEH

Ed. Note: It’s bothering me that in my tag cloud, Taiwan is as big as Alan Rickman.   So, I am going to tag every post with ‘Alan Rickman’ until this is no longer true.  Fun Alan Rickman fact:  he’s been with his partner, Rima Horton, for 45 years.  They are not married, and they have no children.   Alan Rickman is insanely sexy.

Ok.  Now that I have justified the Alan Rickman tag….Oh!  I can actually put it on yesterday’s post as well.  Be right back.

On to my entry for the day.

My mom called tonight.  Well, first she emailed me this morning.  Her publisher had sent her three mock-ups of possible covers for her book, and my mom wanted my opinion.  I sent my opinion to her, and she mentioned that I had ranked them in the same order that she had.  She added, “Like mother, like daughter.”  My immediate response was, “I am nothing like you.”  Which is not true, but it was my gut reaction.

Anyway, she called tonight.  After talking about the book cover and a few other desultory items, she went in for the kill.  First, she talked about her lingering aches and pains (quite normal for older people, I gather), and then she moved onto her real topic:  My father’s health.

Apparently, he has had a spike in his blood pressure.  190/100.  This has happened twice in the past few weeks.  He has meds for high blood pressure, but he refuses to take them.  He hates going to the doctor for anything serious (he’ll go for perceived illnesses), but I guess he consented to go today.  My mom kept repeating how worried she is about him.  Then, she would pause.  I know she wanted me to ask questions or be concerned, too, but…

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: Alan Rickman, death talk, messiness, separation

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I have a few conflicting ideas running through my brain that I haven’t thought out completely, so I’m just going to dump them here.

By the way, Alan Rickman as the Caterpillar?  Bring it.  I love Tim Burton’s work, even when I hate the result (Big Fish, par exemple, even though it has the yummy Ewan McGregor in it as well as the yummy Helena Bonham Carter) or the ending (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I’m looking at you).   However, I have yet to forgive you for Sweeney Todd:  The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.  I was anticipating that movie so much (and I don’t usually anticipate movies at all).  I mean, Carter, Rickman, and Johnny Depp?  In a musical?  It’s like a wet dream come true for me.  What could possibly go wrong there?  Don’t ask because I still can’t speak about it without getting choked up.

Ahem.

Back to Burton.  He is creative and bizarre with more than a dash of disturbing. I have never cared for Alice in Wonderland, so I am looking forward to his rendition–as long as he’s resolved his father issues.   Again, it has Depp, Carter, and Rickman in it.  How could it possibly go wrong?  I am a bit worried about the 3D effect because I get nauseous from that, but I know they’ve vastly improved the technology in the last twenty years.

By the way, I just have to say one thing very quickly about the Oscars.  For some reason, despite my lack of interest in most pop culture, I watch awards shows.  I DVR them and zip through all the boring parts, but it’s still tedious.  I think this is the last year I will even do that.  Here’s my observation.  Every time a new presenter came onto the stage, I said (out loud), “Who the fuck are you?”  I had no clue who half of them were.  I haven’t seen a single one of the Oscar-nominated movies, and there are only a few that even tickled my fancy at all.  The Hurt Locker is one of them.  Up is another.  A few in the foreign flick category seem interesting as well.  That’s about it.  I like the idea of Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, but I can’t see it.  I have a hard time watching any movie with rape themes, especially if the rape is portrayed. Numb3rs, the one show I watch (though this will probably be the last season as it has lost its juice), had a child sexual abuse episode last week, and it wrecked me to watch it.

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: Alan Rickman, opposites attract, resolutions, wrong

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I had taiji today.  Wait, let me back up a second.  In my last therapy session, I talked with my therapist about not wanting to let the flashbacks distract me.   I have no desire to have any kind of real relationship with my father, so there is no reason to dwell on the flashbacks.  I am not saying I shouldn’t let them out; I just don’t want to lose focus on what I really need to do.

My therapist has repeatedly reminded me that I am not my thoughts, that I am more than just my intellect.  I have a hard time grasping that because for so long, I have based much of my persona on my brain.  It’s the one thing I know:  I am smart.   No matter what I hate about myself at any given time (I’m fat, lazy, neurotic, cynical, paranoid, OCD, enmeshed, thin-skinned, grumpy, negative, pessimistic, etc.), I have always been proud of my intelligence.

However, I am not my intelligence.  It is not me.  I can’t think my way out of my problems, though I can certainly put thought into how I am going to change my attitude and behaviors.   This is really difficult for me because I want to be able to batter my way through my shit with the force of my brain power.

It doesn’t fucking work that way.  In addition, I tend to get caught up in thinking about things so much, that becomes a distraction in and of itself.

Another thing.  My sleep has been off-the-charts horrible this week–which doesn’t help in the thinking department.  My brain is slow, thick, and sluggish because of my fucked-up sleep.  Earlier in the week, I almost got into an accident, and it was completely my fault.  Then, today, as I was pulling out of my driveway, I did not see a car that was driving down the street–though I looked both ways before I pulled out.  Fortunately, the driver of the other car saw me.

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: detaching, flashbacks, thoughts

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So, I have been thinking about this job thing.  I thought about my strengths.  People like to talk to me; I have a psych background; I am a writer and a performer with a very creative imagination.  I have a husky, sexy voice.  I LOVE sex, and I am not in anyway ready for a relationship right now.   I have a very specific skill set.  See where I’m going with this?

For the last ten years, I have thought on-and-off about being some kind of sex worker.  It’s mostly been a joke, but once in awhile, I couldn’t think of a real reason why I shouldn’t at least look into it.  Now, I’m too old and fat to be an expensive call-girl.  I’m not so sure I would want to do actual sex for money, anyway.  However, there are plenty of other job opportunities for a sex enthusiast.  I have a couple of reality shows floating through my mind (would have to go to cable for them).  I could open an online whorehouse with rooms for different fetishes.  But, realistically, I narrowed it down to two choices.

One, I could be a professional domme.  Mistress Minna.  Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?  I look good in black leather, and I can wield a mean whip.  Yes, I am a sub in real life, but I have switched before, and I am a very good top as well.  There is a dungeon in NYC owned by three women, and they have training sessions.  I saw a website of a local dominatrix, and it was so Minnesota-nice.  The whole idea of being a domme was interesting, but kinda tiring.  I mean, it’s a whole performance thing, and it would most likely give me an even more-skewed view of men.  In addition, I would have to actually meet these guys in person.  I’m really not a good people-person.  However, my house would be spotless, and I would get paid to make someone clean my house.  That, admittedly, is tempting.

However, in the end, it’s not enough.  Kel suggested phone sex operator, and I looked it up on teh Googley.  Love Google.  I read a few articles on how to become a phone sex operator, and I found two legit sites.  I am also toying with the idea of just doing it on my own.  I already have one friend expressing interest (ok, she probably was joking) in being one as well.  We could be start our own small business!

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Filed under: Personal Life
Tags: career choices, sex, skill set

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I had therapy yesterday this week instead of tomorrow as usual.  It was an unusually productive session.  I will talk about it more in a minute, but first, I am going to bitch a second about how unfair it is that I can’t get drunk without feeling immediate physical side-effects–and I’m not talking pleasant ones.  I decided that I wanted to get drunk tonight to try to stifle the demon voices in my head.  So, I poured myself a healthy amount of bourbon, took two swigs, and had to stop.

I am allergic to alcohol.  It’s an Asian thing.  It’s the worst with wine and beer, but it’s also prevalent with hard liquor.  Over the years, I have realized that I can drink one mixed drink over the course of an hour and not be too badly affected by it.    The few times I have exceeded that limit, I have paid for it dearly.   I turn bright red all over when I drink too rapidly.  I start feeling flushed; my head hurts like hell; I have a hard time breathing.

Normally, I am fine with this.  In fact, I welcome it because it makes it very difficult for me to drink too much.  I am a cheap date, and I don’t like alcohol enough to mourn the fact that I drink so little of it.  Tonight, though, I wanted the oblivion that only drinking can bring.  Now, I am mad because I cannot attain that.  No wonder I do other self-harming behaviors instead!  The most socially-acceptable one (drinking) is extremely unpleasant for me.

My mom called tonight.  We didn’t have any arguments because we mostly steered clear of any incendiary topics.  She was able to book her flight with a little help from my bro.  However, and I know this is common with older people, she spent a great deal of time detailing her various ailments as well as those of my father and all their friends/relatives.  It seems like since I visited Taiwan, she has really become focused on dying.  She said she prays for a painless death (such as dying in her sleep.  Though, for me, it probably would be filled with nightmares that would literally kill me in my sleep.  I have died in my dreams before.  I do not recommend it) and then told me about a father of a friend of hers who died that way.  Apparently, he kept saying he saw Jesus Christ (a figure in a long white robe) even though he (the old guy) was not a Christian.

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: desire, disappointment, family issues

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I have OCD issues with one interesting outlier:  I tend to be easily sidetracked.  When I am having a conversation, I will follow a different thought until its logical conclusion, and then I will return to the main discussion.  Or, I will use the tangent to launch a completely different subject altogether.  Part of this is because I see issues as being complex, interconnected, and not easily separated.  Part of it is because my mind thinks of a hundred things at one time, and I want to talk about all of them simultaneously.

It’s evident in my writing as well.  My blog entries contain an average of 1,500 (fair warning.  I completely made that up, but it seems about right) words each.  That’s a shitload of gabbing on one subject.  And, I usually have a main thesis for each entry, but from there, my thoughts diverge.  I don’t really have a problem with the way I think or talk or write, but it does lead to the main point of this entry.

Getting distracted in my blog entries is fine.  Taking a side road when I’m having a discussion with a friend about politics or what’s going on in our personal lives is also fine.  However, now that I am struggling to leave the old me behind and find a new way of being, I can’t afford to get bogged down with extraneous shit.

For example, my mother.  In my last therapy session, I was talking with my therapist about my frustrations with falling into the same patterns when talking with my mother.  In fact, it’s the last thing I blogged about as well.  I explained how the interaction would typically occur, and I concluded by saying how mad I was at myself for caving so easily.  My mother wears me down by her indefatigable vigor in complaining until I give in.  I know that the longer I argue, the harder she’s going to push for me to do whatever it is she wants me to do.   It’s the same damn thing every fucking time.

My therapist thought for a minute and said, “What prevents you from talking about the process rather than the content?”  In other words, why didn’t I say, “Mom, I know you would prefer I do it for you.  However, you are not hearing me when I say that I choose not to do it.”  It’s even better if I can say it without shouting it, but I’m not holding out hope for that just yet because I get so frustrated when talking to my mother.

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: core issues, distractions, focus

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Many years ago, I performed a piece called Shedding Skins.  It was about how as we mature, we change our beliefs.  I had on different personae outfits that I shed as I did the piece.  At the end, I recited a poem I wrote and stripped down to my panties.  I left the panties on because there’s always change in the future.  It was a smashing success, if I do say so myself, and I have found myself thinking about that performance when I contemplated today’s blog entry.

Obviously, this is a time of great change for me.  The problem is, the old behaviors no longer work for me, but I don’t have anything with which to replace them yet.  There was a glitch with my mother’s credit card for an auto pay (for, ironically enough, auto insurance).  I was pretty clear that she needed to take care of it because it’s her credit card, damn it.   She, however, has a thing about doing this kind of thing.  She says it’s because of the time difference, but I know it is more than that.  At any rate, she called last night to talk about it, and I–oh, wait.

I had my therapy session yesterday morning.  I wrote a letter in response to my mother’s letter (while studiously ignoring my father’s letter).  For the most part, I am going to tell my mom that we should talk about it in person the next time she is in the States.  Then, my therapist and I talked about my mother’s reaction to any problem (playing out the worst-case scenario and coming up with a zillion reasons why she positively, absolutely cannot do anything about it).  My therapist said that when my mom starts going into her programmed response, I need to think to myself, “Oh, this is my mother’s issue.  It’s how she deals with things.  It’s not personal.”  Now, this is a great thing to observe.  It really is my mother’s way of dealing with problems, and she is consistent in that she responds that way every damn time.

Back to the phone call.  We started talking about who should take care of the problem.  The problem being that her new card has a different number than the old one.  She knew that because she had problems with it before, but she didn’t think about how it would affect her auto pays.  She has many bills on auto pay, so it was a potential nightmare.  I said because it was her card, she had to take care of it.  She started whining (yes, whining) about why she couldn’t.  First it was the time difference (I said to call the toll-free number at any time).  Then, it was how she didn’t have time to sit on the phone and wait for fifteen minutes as she got transfered from person to person to person.  I said she was pulling out the worst-case scenario, and I started getting angry.  All thoughts of how it’s her issue and the way she deals with things flew right out of my head, and I fell back into my own habit of becoming stubborn, sullen, and recalcitrant.   Then she talked about how she hurt this and hurt that and how it was hard to blah blah blah.   She wanted me to call and then if I couldn’t handle it, she would see what she could do.  That seemed backwards to me as I thought she should try first and then I would handle it if she couldn’t get it done.

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: bad habits, sorrow, uphill climb

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i have a twin in spirit
her name is Kel
i haven’t met her in person yet
but one day soon, i will.
she knows i am struggling
so she sent me a Sekrit Weapon
i can wrap it around me when i sleep
so the demons cannot get in.
she poured her heart and love
into every colorful square
i can feel her with me
even when she’s not there.
she sewed in a part of her soul
and part of mine as well
united, the two of us
can conquer all kinds of hell.
tears fill my eyes
as i snuggle beneath the quilt
it means more to me
than any gold or gilt.
i am touched, humbled and awed
she would do such an amazing thing
Kel, i thank you profusely
you have captured my spirit within.

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: friendship, love, twin

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I had a tough session today.  My therapist told me things I did not want to hear, but they needed to be said.  Let me be clear that my therapist cares very deeply about me.  She also won’t put up with my shit.  Which is good because I am very good at throwing out shit that sounds reasonable even when it’s not.

I told her about my suicidal thoughts.  I told her I was thinking more about suicide.  We talked a bit about that, and then, well, let me back up.  I first talked about how me being depressed for the past umpteen years had served a purpose in our family.  If my family could focus on what’s wrong with Minna, then we never had to look to see what was wrong with the family in general.  And believe me when I tell you that there is a lot wrong with my family.

So.  I bought Ballboy on Thursday.  I will post a pic at some time, but not right now.  This was a tangible step for me, a way to assert that I have tastes that I will now openly express.   It was, if I may say,  a bold step for me, and I felt good about it.  Almost immediately following the purchase, I was filled with sorrow, grief, and the suicidal ideation started.

This is what my therapist said.  I have substituted suicidal ideation for my depression.  She validated the grief and sorrow I am feeling, but she added that if I start obsessing about being suicidal, then I can say, “I can’t possibly think about getting a job because I’m suicidal.”   whabs actually hit it on the head when she said that I want people to call me crazy.  I’m not doing it on purpose, but that’s the underlying rationale.  If I can label myself as the patient, then I have to be taken care of, and I don’t have to take care of myself.

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Filed under: Family and/or Relationships, Personal Life
Tags: baby steps, hard work, responsibility

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All right.  Today, I am going to start by doing something I rarely do:  I am going to pat myself on the back.  I have a difficult time congratulating myself when I do something good, so I have decided to do that now.  Here.  In the first paragraph of this entry.  I have two things to share.  Gulp.

#1 (OK, this is the second paragraph.  I lied.  Deal).  My mom’s magnum opus went through the process at a very fast-pace and is now accepted to be published.   Why am I patting myself on the back for this?  Because I worked my ass off on it, and that shit looked good.  I had an interactive (or whatever it’s called) table of contents (if I updated the chapters, I could automatically update the TOC, too) and everything.  I mean, damn.  That was some of my best editing work ever.  I really hit the ball out of the park with this one.  Yes, a second round of edits is coming up, and yes, I made a few mistakes, but overall, I did a kick-ass job.  Pat, pat, pat.

#2.  In the last three weeks, I have lost an inch-and-a-half around my waist, which translates to 7.5 pounds.  This is exactly how much I lose each week whenever I start losing weight.  I had forgotten how…not easy…steady the loss is in the beginning.  I won’t say easy because it’s been damn hard work.  Still.  It’s been a nice little boost to pull out the tape-measure (I don’t do scales) and see the steady loss.

Now that that is out of the way, I would like to say that once I am done with my mother’s magnum opus and a couple other things I am doing for her right now (including booking her flight to Colorado because apparently the interwebs is too tough for her, and no, Mom, I do not want to go with you to your conference), we will be setting some very clear delineations between what is my job and what isn’t.  When we started working on her magnum opus, we just said I would edit the thing.  That was it.  Oh, it also included re-typing her thesis because that was lost in the Great Hard Drive Crash of Aught…Something.  We only had hard copies, so re-type it I would.  That was part of the deal, and it was only seventy-some pages, so whatever.

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Filed under: Uncategorized
Tags: blah blah blah, family shit, stuff

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