bitterfig

I’ve got to be at the doctor at 9:00 a.m. (about an hour and ten minutes) for my second round of blood tests.  I’m a little nervous, not because I mind having blood drawn or am too worried about the results but because they’re testing fasting levels so I couldn’t have breakfast and the last time I had blood drawn when I hadn’t eaten I sort of passed out. 

Of course that was three or four years ago and I was about 10 pounds lighter so hopefully I’ll be okay today. 

 

I felt very poorly over the weekend and ended up calling in to work on both Saturday and Sunday.   I did go in Monday.  I had a morning shift and it’s so much easier to just get up and go to work.  Yesterday however I wasn’t scheduled to come in until 2:00 p.m. and by 11:00 a.m. I was back in bed and after I ate at noon I was having really bad chills so I ended up calling in again though in retrospective I think I probably could have made it through my shift if I’d pushed myself.  I feel bad about how much work I’m missing—6 days since I got back from New York.  I feel like I’m being too easy on myself and using the fact that I’m having these health problems as an excuse not to work.  Yet I really feel like a zombie most of the time. 

 

I told my parents what was going on.  Their reaction was mixed.  My mother has offered to help me out financially for which I am grateful (I’m not getting paid for the work I’m missing).  She’s also convinced that a) I have diabetes and b) I’d be fine if I’d just have a hard candy whenever my blood sugar gets low.  Logic and consistency was never Mum’s strong suite.  My father was pretty upset and sort of yelled at me because I’ve been dragging my eating disorder out for 15 years and for not really having anyone to look out for me (“you’ve been in Chicago for 5 years and you don’t know anybody-- what kind of a way is that to live?”).  I know it’s his way of being concerned but in all honesty it just makes me feel bad about myself. 

 

I can leave for my appointment in a few minutes.  God I’m hungry.  I usually eat breakfast as soon as I get up. 

I really feel like my visit to New York threw me off track.  It’s been nearly two weeks since I got back but I still feel very down and ill at ease. 

 

It wasn’t that anything bad or even surprising happened.  Everything went pretty much the way I expected it to.  Every time my mother wanted me to do something, she applied pressure steadily and relentlessly and found ways of making me feel like a bad person for not wanting to whatever it was she wanted me to do.  For instance, she wanted to attend the Schenevus town fair.  I had no desire to go as Schenevus is a half hour drive away and events of this kind are generally populated by creepy The Hills Have Eyes type characters.  So I said I didn’t want to go.   To which Mum replied in a very hurt voice “I thought it would be a fun thing to do.”  “I’d rather not go,” I said.  “It’s such a long drive.”  In an effort to be kind, I didn’t even mention the scary redneck factor.  Instead of just accepting this, Mum said “Just watching other people have a good time is a nice thing to do.” 

 

I did stand my ground with regards to the fair, but I caved in on another matter.  Mum wanted me to call Owlie, a guy I used to be friends who sometimes asks after me.  I really didn’t want to because over the past couple of years, Owlie has gotten deeper and deeper into conspiracy theories to the point where it makes me very uncomfortable.  I’ve told Mum this numerous times.  I’ve even told her he smokes pot (which is just awful in Mum’s world) in an effort to make her lay off but the day I arrived she started on how I ought to call him “just to be polite”. 

 

Instead of saying outright that I didn’t want to, which hasn’t worked in the past, I decided just to ignore her.  However after a couple days she was leaving the phone book lying out and assuring me Owlie probably wasn’t into conspiracy theory any more and not dropping the subject so I finally caved.  The result, a two hour lecture on how Barack Obama is a puppet of the Rockefeller octopus (cuz you know the Rockefeller’s control the Shadow Government) and how 9-11 was actually a planned demolition.  It’s almost like dealing with a born-again Christian.  He literally told me at one point that if I could only accept “the truth” I would be “free”.  It really made me angry.  Not at Owlie, who’s just done too many drugs, but at my mother for refusing to let up on her pressure tactics and with myself for giving in.

 

Also I was really upset by the way my parents interact.  My mother has such contempt for my father.  She treats him like he’s mentally deficient, snaps at him and orders him around.  My father tries to get her attention by saying things he knows will get a reaction- mostly they’re just stupid but sometimes he’ll make really derogatory remarks about ethnic and racial groups or say really hateful things about people we know.  The whole dynamic really disturbs me.  It shouldn’t.  It’s been going on since I was a teenager but I always feel like it’s up to me to smooth things out, appease them both. 

 

I was glad to leave it all behind and yet it’s left an imprint.  Since I got back I’ve felt really depressed and off.  Very lonely and isolated yet at the same time I’ve been completely withdrawn at work, not really able to respond when people try to engage me in conversation.  I talked to my therapist today and she said I needed to try and force myself to keep going to work and interact socially as much as I could.  I started crying because I feel like my whole life has been about forcing myself to do things—finish high school, go to college, make friends, move away from the parents—I’ve forced myself to do all these things and where has it gotten me?  I’m still very much cut off from other people and barely able to earn a living.  It just seems so pointless

 

I hate being like this.  I feel like I have the emotional maturity of a six year old, I get overwhelmed so easily.  

I got back from my visit to my parents yesterday evening and tomorrow I’m back to work.  Today was devoted to reacquainting myself with everyday life, things like going grocery shopping and collecting the Kitty from my sister’s where he stayed while I was away (thankfully he didn’t scratch my niece or nephew). 

 

Upstate New York is breathtakingly beautiful this time of year, fields of wildflowers—tiger lilies, Queen Anne’s lace and blue chicory.  I saw turkeys, deer, hummingbirds, a rose breasted grouse beak and several fat, furry woodchucks, visited my grandmother everyday, went to a fascinating exhibit on Synagogue carvings at the local art museum and read a pile of comic books, mostly back issues of Elfquest and Urusei Yatsura.

 

I can’t say I’m exactly refreshed from my vacation however.  The tension between my parents grated on me like fingernails on a blackboard during the entire visit and perhaps to drown it I sort of created my own internal white noise by drastically cutting down on my daily caloric intake while drinking huge amounts of caffeinated diet soda in addition to sampling some of the prescription grade painkillers Mum had left over from a root canal she had last month (a Hydrocodine tablet and half a Vicodin a couple of days later—I didn’t really get buzzed at all but they did help with the shin splits I had from walking on hilly terrain).  

 

I’m not sure what gets into me when I go back to my parents.  Half of me that strives to be the perfect daughter and the other half works equally hard to be a perfect horror.  Interestingly I got some insight into this watching Batman Unmasked a History Channel special on the psychology of Batman.  It talked about how Batman is a person who is filled with overpowering rage and fear yet is able to master it and how in a way that strength of will is his superpower.  Joker on the other hand is described as seeing the world through a mad kind of logic wherein the existence of injustice cancels out the possibility of justice and where the fact that innocence is corruptible means that no one is innocent.  Sometimes (like this last week) I feel like I contain both these persona and they’re warring it out in every decision I make.  No wonder Batman has always appealed to me so much.

I’m going to be going to visit the parents in Upstate New York on 07/14/08. 

 

I’ve afraid I’m less than thrilled at the prospect.  Despite the highly detailed e-mails my mother has been sending me for weeks about things like the condition of her play house (don’t ask) and all the “fun” things we might possibly do over my visit I think I’ve been  was more or less in denial but now it’s really breathing down my neck. 

 

On Monday I got an e-mail from my mother with “Goody Goody Goody” as the subject line.  The text was something to the effect of “Only a week till you’re back home where you belong.”  Somehow this makes me feel like I’m about to be gobbled up.  

 

 

I had both Thursday and Friday (07/03 and 07/04) off so I ended up getting a bit of a holiday weekend.

 

Thursday I did mostly mundane stuff—laundry, grocery shopping, seeing my therapist—but in the evening my brother-in-law took me to see Dario Argento’s Mother of Tears.  It was playing at my favorite theater, the Music Box, which is one of the few old style, non-multi-plex movie houses left in Chicago.  It’s so beautiful, it’s been around since the 1920’s and has the old fashioned marquee outside, a huge, ornate theater, even a red curtain over the screen that goes up when the show starts.  They operate as an art house and revival theater and show a lot of foreign films and more off-beat movies.  It’s actually been ages since I’ve been there.  Lately I’ve only been getting to the movies about once a month.  Back when I was working for Biff (and making a bit more $$$$) I actually used to go to the movies at least once a week.  I rather miss being able to do that. 

 

Mother of Tears is the third installment in Argento’s Three Mothers Trilogy that began with the 1977 classic Suspiria (one of my favorite horror films) and continued Inferno (which I haven’t seen) in 1980.  These movies deal with three sister witches—the Mother of Tears, The Mother of Sighs and the Mother of Darkness—who have houses in Germany (Suspiria), New York (Inferno), and Rome (Mother of Tears) from which they spread chaos and evil. 

 

I’ve always preferred the chilling, atmospheric giallo of Argento’s early days to his latter work which is more baroque and vividly horrific.  Still, Mother of Tears was a pretty enjoyable as a gory horror movie with strikingly bizarre imagery and minimal story.  Many creative things were done with intestines, and some gorgeous Roman architecture was shown as packs of witches resembling Madonna circa 1983 descended on the ancient city. 

 

There was actually a strangely retro vibe to the whole film, as if it had come a few years after the previous chapters of the trilogy rather than nearly three decades later.  All the witches wore new-wave make-up and the scariest witch, a Japanese girl with a silver front tooth reminded me of nothing so much as a particularly menacing Tama Janowitz. 

 

The heroine of the film was played by Dario Argento’s daughter Asia.   She’s been in several of his films but this was the first I’d had the opportunity to see.  I’m fascinated by the idea of a man directing his daughter in horror/exploitation films being terrorized, raped, tortured and occasionally grotesquely murdered.  There’s something so pathological yet telling about it.  It really lends a whole other level of uncomfortableness to something like a routine fan service shower scene when you know that the director is the actresses Dad.

 

My brother-in-law Dean had brought a bottle of citron vodka along and we had spiked cokes but I didn’t drink enough of mine to even get buzzed as vodka sort of turns my stomach.  Even with the citrus flavoring it still tastes thick and chemical and sort of vile to me.  I consider this repulsion a good sign.  My ex-boyfriend, who was a recovering alcoholic, always said that one of the things that separated alcohol abusers from casual drinkers was that the abuser would drink anything available to the point of intoxication whereas the casual drinker tended to have personal preferences and wouldn’t drink if they couldn’t have something they enjoyed. 

 

I’ve been drinking again for a little over a month and it really is an experiment to see if I can drink socially and casually.  So far I feel like I’m doing all right.  I did go out of bounds at the party a couple weeks ago where I embarrassed my sister but I didn’t totally lose it.  In the past I’ve often figured that once I go past a point I might as well relinquish all control and finish off the bottle.  I didn’t do that this time and I think it’s because I’m trying to look at drinking differently, not as a huge cathartic experience I allow myself a couple times a year but as something I can incorporate into my life and do in moderation maybe once a week or so. 

 

As I said, it’s an experiment.  If it doesn’t work I’ll probably go back to not drinking at all because I know how dangerous problem drinking can be. 

I e-mailed my sister about how it had hurt my feelings when she told me I had embarrassed her and that I felt like I needed encouragement more than correction at this time.  She apologized so I guess we’re okay though I’m a little nervous about the upcoming holiday.  I’m off on July 4^th so I guess if I’m invited to any kind of family thing I need to try to go but either not drink at all or limit myself to two glasses at the most.  I feel like I always have to watch myself and keep a rigid control over myself though I guess that’s what everyone has to do if they want to function in the world. 

 

Last Monday, I had off from work and I did some painting for the first time in ages and finished my sister’s Christmas gift.  I like to give multi-part gifts and since my sister has been fascinated by Batgirl since we were children the first part of her gift (which I actually gave her in December) was a collection of Batgirl stories from the 60’s. 

The second part (which I finished last week) was a sort of Batgirl/Marie Antoinette painting.  The basic concept of the painting owes a lot to Ray Caesar, a digital artist who uses a lot of Batgirl and Catwoman type imagery, but it’s pretty much in my own style which is much more low-tech/decorative/folk art derived.

This weekend was Gay Pride in Chicago but I didn’t end up going to any of the events.  .  There weren’t any signs posted about being on the float so I didn’t get to be in the parade like last year.  I didn’t even get to go to the parade because I had work and of course I wasn’t exactly in a celebratory mood either yesterday or today.  

 

First, let me explain the situation with my medication.

 

I’ve been off Effexor entirely for over a week and am now taking just 60 mg of Cymbalta each day.  A couple of weeks ago my brother-in-law had suggested that my tendency to shut down and isolate may have as much to do with over-medication as it does with depression and I think he might have been right.  I feel much more alert and engaged in the world around me now that I’m taking less medication but I’m also much more sensitive and volatile. 

 

At the beginning of the week I did some painting for the first time in ages and actually finished up my sister Vienna’s Christmas gift which I’d sketched out back in December but never completed.  On Saturday morning I rode my bike over to her condo to give it to her.  During the course of the visit the subject of my behavior at the MBA graduation party for her sister-in-law Staci came up.  This was a small party, mainly family except for Staci’s boyfriend (who she’s only been seeing for a couple months) and a guy who works with her. 

 

I was very nervous about attending but I decided to make the effort and when I got there I ended up drinking about 4 glasses of wine (I will say in my defense that at least one of them was much less than a full glass, probably only 2 or 3 ounces).  As a result of this drinking I talked much more and much more expressively than I would have otherwise and Vienna was very much not pleased with some of the things I said—mainly allusions to my eating disorder and mental health problems and a remark that I wasn’t interested in having a relationship, I’d just like someone I could call to come over and have sex when I felt like it. 

 

Vienna sort of pointed out all the things I’d said wrong and told me that she had been embarrassed and more or less scolded me for drinking too much. 

 

It was almost something I’d expected.  I’d spent the last session with my therapist going over the exact same things Vienna mentioned but we’d ended up agreeing that I need to let myself make mistakes and that I shouldn’t obsess over what I’d done wrong or feel guilty and that these things weren’t that big a deal and that is was positive that I’d attended the party despite my anxieties and been able to interact…

 

I still got really upset.  Being told my family members that I’ve embarrassed them always cuts me right to the core.  When I was in high school my father used to bludgeon me on an almost daily basis with what an embarrassment I was to him, how my clothes and my grades and my conduct were a reflection on him and I was making him look bad and humiliating him in front of the other teachers. 

 

It just really upset me, to the point where I started crying.  My 6 year old nephew and 3 year old niece were there.  Luckily I don’t think they noticed because they were playing with their tricycles across the room but I really feel bad about losing it in front of the kids like that. 

 

Even after I left, I was still really distraught.  I kept tearing up and having crying jags for the rest of the day including at work.  Today I got through work without incident but I felt drained and very sad. 

 

I can’t blame Vienna for this; my reaction has been completely disproportionate to what she’d said to me (which was nothing I hadn’t already said to myself).  This makes me think (hope) it might have something to do with the medication because it seems like the only other possibility is that I’m just weak. 

My brother-in-law Dean’s concert on the 23^rd was really excellent.  It was at Davenports, a piano bar on Milwaukee Ave. in my old hood Wicker Park

 

This was the first time I’d really heard him sing except for two songs-- “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” and “Spooky” (you know the one… “Love is kind of crazy with a spooky little girl like you.”)-- he performed at the wedding reception when he and my sister got married in November of 2001. 

 

I was really impressed.  He not only has a great voice; he’s also an incredibly expressive singer.  I actually found myself tearing up a couple of times during his show.  Music can do that to me.  I almost never cry over movies (or books, or television shows) unless I’m already really upset about something but sad songs absolutely kill me.  I remember when I was a little kid absolutely weeping over things like “Puff the Magic Dragon”, “Eleanor Rigby” and Kenny Rogers’ “I Wish that I could Hurt that Way Again”. 

 

Of course Dean’s too good a showman to go with too much depressing material and the bulk of his set was more upbeat songs but even these often included a degree of bitter melancholy.  Dean loves vocal pop and he’s really good at picking songs that sound cheerful but have a bite to their lyrics—stuff like “Angel Eyes” with its world weary refrain of “the drinks and the laughs are on me”.  

 

The first half of his set was stripped down, just Dean and a pianist.  The second half was mostly material from the CD he’s been working on for the last decade or so—a collection of songs about cities called King of the Road.  This time he was accompanied by his producer, who I can’t help thinking leans a little towards over production.  Some of his arrangements take the focus off Dean’s voice.  Still, I was really pleased with his rendition of “By the Time I Got to Phoenix” which is probably my favorite Burt Bacharach song. 

 

There were quite a few people I knew at the show-- parents from my niece and nephews’ school (which it was a fund raiser for), Dean’s family and some of his friends including Nick, who I had a disastrous one night stand with when I first came to Chicago after which he completely blew me off.  Malicious little bitch that I am I was pleased to note that he was looking bloated, middle-aged and burned out.  I found him not at all attractive.

 

Not that I was feeling very attractive myself even though I was all dressed up in my fishnets stockings and a black and red slip dress.  I was actually thinking that my huge fleshly legs probably looked ridiculous in the stockings but then during intermission Dean’s Aunt came up and said “You’re a very beautiful woman” which was completely unexpected and really made me feel good. 

 

During the show, I did order a glass of wine.  I only ended up drinking about half of it.  That was enough to make me feel relaxed but not too much so.   It was my first time drinking since last July and I feel like I handled it pretty well.

The program cover for Dean's concert-- the photo is by my sister Vienna

Dear me.

 

I’ve always been very lucky in that I’m one of the few members of my family who doesn’t suffer from seasonal allergies on a regular basis.  However there must be something in bloom right now that’s getting to me because for the last couple of weeks I’ve been having sinus trouble and itchy, watery eyes.  These symptoms can be taken care of with a small dose of over the counter allergy medicine but unfortunately even the minimal dosage of these little pink pills more or less puts me to sleep. 

 

When I am awake, I’ve been very lethargic and my brain hasn’t quite been functioning.  Still, I’ve managed to make it to work.  My goal is to get through at least the next paycheck (which will be three weeks) without missing a day.  That doesn’t seem like a lot but I don’t think I’ve managed to do it since March.   

 

I’ve got some fairly exciting things coming up in the next few days.  Tomorrow night I’m going to a class on spiritual healing that one of my co-workers (teammates in official store lingo) is giving.  While I’m very skeptical about the actual benefits of healing of this sort, it’s a long standing interest of mine.  Once upon a time I actually practice Reiki however bitter little anti-heroine that I am I quickly became disillusioned by all the self-delusion, phoniness, faux piety and general human failings that tend to go hand in hand with any kind of spiritual practice.  Still, I remain fascinated by the idea of somehow being able to heal by magic or will.  In stories I’m often drawn to healers.  Leetha from Elfquest is an early instance of this, Eli Sunday the (most likely false) faith-healer in There Will Be Blood probably the most recent example. 

 

On Friday, my brother-in-law Dean is going to be singing at a piano bar in Wicker Park I think he used to sing in public fairly often when he and my sister were first going out but then he shifted his energies to making a CD the production of which has been dragging on for years.  The only time I’ve ever heard him sing was at the wedding when he and my sister got married which was in 2001.  The concert is a benefit for my nephew’s school and the tickets are $50 but since I’m family I’ll be able to get in free. 

 

Because Dean deals horror/monster movie memorabilia most people expect his musical tastes to run towards Marilyn Manson and Rob Zombie but actually he doesn’t like that kind of music at all.  He prefers retro crooners and vocal standards.  Singers like Sinatra, Tom Jones, Dean Martin, Burt Bacharach, Jack Jones, and Andy Williams are his big inspiration. 

 

I wasn’t able to trade shifts on the day of the concert so I’ll have to go straight from work, which is a bit of a drag,  but it should be fun. 

Nonnie, my maternal grandmother, called me yesterday morning before work and we had a good conversation.  She’s always been really easy to talk to and even though it’s been months since we’ve spoken and almost a year since I’ve seen her it still feels very comfortable.  She turned 90 a couple of months ago but you’d never know it, she’s still completely lucid, very sharp, and aware of everything around her.  She had some trouble with her eyes over the winter and she’s suffered from severe arthritis for years but she seemed to be in excellent spirits when I spoke to her which is good.  Sometimes she gets very frustrated and sick of it all and says things like “I wish I could just die,” and “I’ve lived too long”.  When this happens I really don’t know what to say.  I hate to hear it but I can understand.  Living with chronic pain is a terrible thing and I know she’s lost many people who were important to her, especially my grandfather who died almost 10 years ago. 

 

I really do miss her.  Since I’ve come to Chicago I’ve really tended to focus on the negative aspects of my life in Upstate New York but Nonnie and I had a pretty good relationship.  I actually lived with her for a couple months when she had knee replacement surgery and we got along very well which is quite an accomplishment considering both of us are fairly independent and happiest living by ourselves so we can do things our way (she’s still living on her own, my parents, who live across the street, keep a close eye on her to make sure she’s okay but she doesn’t want to actually live with them because they bicker all the time and their house is too cluttered for her taste.)

 

Speaking of my parents bickering, that’s one thing I don’t miss at all.    The other day at work there was a couple arguing in another line, the wife yelling at her husband, and it really upset me because it reminded me so much of the way my parents interact with each other—constant antagonism and hostility.  I always saw it as my obligation to try and keep some kind of peace between them and I devoted nearly a decade, from 23 to 32, to trying to mediate their marriage.  I made no impact on them but they’ve certainly made an impact on me.  I think it’s what inspires me to live alone, not date and limit my love life to crushes on people who are unavailable (straight women, gay men, people of both sexes in established relationships).

I saw my brother and his wife on Wednesday- our sister had everyone over for dinner at her place.  It was really good to see them again.  They’re fun to be around; unlike me (and my sister to a lesser degree) they don’t seem to devote most of their time to being REALLY ANXIOUS.  My brother is so easy going and self-assured sometimes it seems impossible to believe we come from the same household. 

 

I think part of it might be that he figured out early what he wanted to do with his life (be a lawyer and make a shitload of money) and worked towards it with a single-minded focus from a fairly early age.  I on the other hand have always know I wanted to be an artist and writer but have gone about it in a completely half-assed way never feeling that it was a legitimate career to pursue and that to make a living I’d have to do something else.  Ironically I am barely making a living whereas if I’d gone after I interests with more conviction I might be doing something I enjoy much more than working as a supermarket casher and making more money. 

 

I know I shouldn’t compare myself to my siblings but its difficult not to.  I do feel like I’ve accomplished so little compared to both my brother and sister who are in stable relationships, financially well off and reasonably happy.  Whereas I seem to have such a hard time with basic stuff.  A very good illustration of this was the dinner itself.  They were both comfortable enough with themselves that they could eat Indian food and drink wine whereas I did neither.  I ate before I came so I could control my calorie intake and drinking is not an option for me because once I start I can’t really stop.

 

Not that the evening was unpleasant in anyway.  A great deal of interesting stuff talked about. 

 

My sister-in-law is working on a master’s thesis in interior design on vintage art-deco hotels in Miami, Florida which sounds absolutely fascinating.  I’d love to see some of the places she was talking about.  She says that the furnishings weren’t always as far out as the architecture however and sometimes would be down right Victorian as if to reassure the people who stayed there that it wasn’t such a far out establishment. 

 

She and my brother also go to Disney World at least once a year as do my sister and her family so they talked about it quite a bit.  I’ve never been and would probably hate it if I did go (being 0% fun) but in theory all sounds very exotic to me, all the internationally themed restaurants and crazy pirate and Haunted Mansion stuff. 

 

Politics of course came up as they’re bound to.  My brother and sister-in-law live in Washington DC and they were at National Park when George W. Bush threw out the first pitch and was booed by the crowd.  They’d seen him throw out the first pitch of the season a couple years ago (2005 I believe).  My sister-in-law had stood up and turned her back on him and she said she got quite a bit of flack from it from people in the crowd but that when she did it this time nobody said a word.  “Even guys who look like me we booing him,” my brother (who is very corporate/conservative looking) said.  So apparently there’s not a lot of love for President Bush anywhere these days. 

 

My sister had heard about the incident and actually had a discussion about it with one of the other mothers at my nephew’s school.  The other mother said it was wrong to boo the president and that people needed to show respect for the office even if they didn’t like the person in it.  My sister disagreed with this as there have been countless examples of people in positions of authority- Hitler being the example she gave- who have done horrible things and should not have been respected simply because they had a title or occupied a high position. 

 

This sort of reminded me of one of the many themes in Herman Melville’s Billy Budd, which I was reading at the time.  The idea that Billy is essentially innocent but has to be punished by death because that is the law and the law is the decree of the King (Billy Budd is set in the British navy) and therefore must be observed to the letter.  This is the argument put out by Captain Vere.  Melville portrays Vere sympathetically but I don’t think he intended it to be lost on the reader that the same King who’s decree Vere is set on upholding is the same King that his countrymen revolted against in the American Revolution and that Billy Budd is ultimately a tragedy because law wins out over morality.

Good news and bad news.

My little brother Jackson and his wife are in Chicago. While Jackson has had to do lawyer things for most of his stay here he has tomorrow evening free and I was able to change shifts so I could have it off so I’ll be able to see them. We’re probably going to be meeting at my sister’s. I haven’t see Jackson and his wife since August and I don’t think my sister, brother and I have been together for a couple of years so I’m really looking forward to it.

The bad news is that I got an e-mail from Biff yesterday and his Uncle, who owns the business Biff runs, has finally given him go-ahead to hire a full time assistant. This is good for him because since he manages over 200 properties he really needs someone to help him. However it is bad for me because it means he won’t need me to come in once a week and pay bills anymore which means I won’t be getting that extra $80 a week I’ve been making.

I’m pretty sure I can mange without it but it means no extras—no impulse buying of manga or DVD and I’ll have to be more careful about buying groceries, no splurging on exotic and overpriced things I see at the market that look ever so interesting.

And I have non-financial reasons for wishing I could have kept the job. I had really been excited about being around when Biff and his partner’s baby came in June. I’m sure I’ll see the baby and everything but it’s not the same as being around for hours a day. Of course it’s not as if the baby would be down in the office all the time…

Maybe this will help nudge me towards finding a job that pays enough that I don’t have to work 6 days a week to support myself and buy the occasional used DVD from ebay. I am finally feeling better after my very difficult winter though I don’t know if I’m quite at the point where I can imagine anyone hiring me. Also I feel like I need to take a serious look at what I want to do. My career strategy in the past has always been to take whatever job will have me but the other day I was reading one of those stupid articles on yahoo or MSN called “Tips to Find Your Dream Job” or something and the first tip was “Define your dream job”. I’ve never really looked at it from the angle of “what do I want to do every day?” (or maybe in my case “What would I be less miserable doing every day?”).

Pa-daddy was in town from Thursday until Monday night. I had to work most of the time but I did have Saturday off and was able to attend my nephew Minya’s 6th Birthday party. It was quite an event. They rented out the Portage Theater, a big old-fashioned movie theater on Milwaukee Avenue, and were showing cartoons on the big screen. In the lobby (which was about as big as the average multiplex theater) there was cake and a table with toys and one that had stuff to color with. There were a ton of kids, they invited Minya’s entire kindergarten class plus some kids they know from outside of the class and friends of my three year old niece Kitten.

It was all pretty neat though I find it hard to get my head around the fact that Minya is already a six year old. I can still remember in vivid detail when I came out to visit the week before he was born, what the weather was like (sunny and cold then gray, drizzling and cold), the movies I watched (all horror movies—Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural, The Witch’s Mirror, Daughters of the Darkness), I even remember going to the Whole Foods where I work now for groceries. It doesn’t seem possible that it was six whole years ago.

I had been hoping to go out to dinner with Pa while he was visiting but in the end I just couldn’t. I feel really bad about my body and my weight right now, almost to the point of hallucination—when I look at my body I see the shape of a Hottentot Venus, huge distended stomach and jutting buttocks. I feel like I let my father down but I honestly don’t want to go out in public these days much less eat in public. The thought of going to a restaurant where I wouldn’t have any idea how many calories I was eating freaked me the hell out. We did take a couple of walks together which was nice. He seems to be fairly happy. He’s preaching again at a small church and very involved with the parishioners. He also has his business buying, selling and refinishing antiques and does a lot for my grandmother.

It was good to see him yet part of me feels dissatisfied. It just seems like no one in my family—not just my father but also my sister and her husband-- seems particularly concerned about me. I’ve been having a really hard time lately. I’ve had serious depression that I nearly had to the emergency room over. I’ve had incidents of cutting, they’ve had to give me a medical leave of absence at work, and most of the time I can hardly stand myself. I feel like I’m a complete mess and that no one even notices or if they do notice they’re used to it. Maybe I’ve been crazy so long my latest crisis hardly makes a blip on the radar.

I know this is passive aggressive but I kept saying stuff about how I felt like I was over weight and how uncomfortable I was with my weight and how I felt like I needed to lose weight and eat less. No one told me I looked fine or that I was okay where I was which was sort of what I wanted. Maybe I’m asking too much. I know I shouldn’t try to manipulate people into giving me validation and I’m sure it makes them uncomfortable when I start harping on how much I weigh or how unhappy I’ve been. 

I'll be observing the strike against Live Journal and only posting on my Insane Journal accounts. I haven't been gotten involved in the most recent LJ controversies the way I was in last years forays. I think I've just burned out and of course at the moment my activist type energy is concentrated in fermenting revolution at my workplace.

Which brings us to the following anecdote- Latin can be dangerous.

I talked to my parents on the phone and they were interested in seeing The Letter so I said I'd e-mail it to them. Because The Letter deals with accountability and the misuse of power, I have it saved on my computer as a file titled "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes," or “Who Watches the Watchmen”. This was actually the quote I chose to go beside my picture in my senior yearbook in High School so it’s sort of an in-joke with me, a shout out to the fat, outspoken and very brave young woman I used to be. So The Letter is titled "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes.” Also saved on my hard-drive a There Will Be Blood Daniel Plainview/Eli Sunday slash fic featuring delirium tremors, rough, scripture quoting, naughty Daddy role-play and rough, dubiously consensual hate!sex. This file is entitled “Quid Pro Quo.”

So I see a title that starts with Q and has a bunch of words I don’t really understand and click to attach it.

Needless to say, I came this close to e-mailing my parents the slash story by accident.

That would have been very, very awkward.

Yesterday was to be my big job hunting day.  I applied for a few positions but overall I didn’t do nearly as much as I should have.  Part of it was that it was my first day off in forever and I had some other things I had to take care of, mainly renewing my driver’s license which was set to expire on my Birthday next week.  I couldn’t renew on-line so I had to haul my sorry ass over to the Chicago North DMV building which is way, way out on Elston Avenue and go through the whole process of standing in various lines, taking a number etc.  At least that’s taken care of for another four years.

 

My other distractions were purely frivolous-- going to the library (as if I won’t be reading Vanity Fair for the next month), writing, and updating my journal.  Things I enjoy doing and want to do on my day off but still I really have to make job hunting a priority.  I’m particularly aware of that this morning because I don’t feel very well.  I’m dizzy and have stomach cramps but I’ve got to be at work at 2:45 p.m. because if I take a sick day I’ll be half a point away from termination.  

 

I know I procrastinate and put off my job search because I’m afraid of being turned down and also of change but I’m also afraid of failing and having to return to my parents.  I had a nightmare about it last night.  I was packing up my apartment (which was also my dorm room from college) to go back to my parents house in Upstate New York.  I think it was partially influenced by a movie I recently watched, Everything is Illuminated which is about a Jewish American who goes to the Ukraine to search for his families roots.  There are many, many shots of driving through the remote Ukrainian countryside that reminded me of the rural landscape where I grew up-- beautiful in so many ways but also empty and desolate. 

 

The film version of Everything is Illuminated was, like the book on which it is based, deeply flawed but still vital and interesting.  Watching it I found that I identified not with the American, Jonathan, a compulsive collector who comes seeking his roots, but with Alex, the native Ukrainian, who wants nothing to do with history and embraces cheap contemporary pop culture.  I feel like that’s what I want to do and maybe that guarantees that sooner or later I’ll have to deal with where I come from.   My case is of course a bit  unique.  I know many people feel cut off from their heritage but both my parents want to live in 1800’s so I’ve had a version idealized of the past forced on me for as long as I can remember.  Spend enough of your childhood paying homage at he graves of various ancestors and you’re bound to resent them.  My mother in particular is very uncomfortable with sexuality and has created a safe haven in a chaste and pious past.  Among her prize processions are the journals of a relative who would faithfully report the weather and the chores performed each and everyday while never mentioning her pregnancies except to note that she had had a child and certainly never making mention of said child’s conception. 

I had hoped that with Christmas behind me and my car finally working I’d have some relief from tooth-clenching, stomach churning anxiety however on Thursday (12/27) I got a letter from Illinois Unemployment saying that I was working for Biff’s property management company during the time I collected unemployment—08/26/06 to 09/23/06—so they want their money back. 

 

This is totally inaccurate—there are certain things I don’t forget and I was terminated from my job at the property management company on Sunday, 08/14/06 and the last day I worked was Friday 08/12/06.  I did go back to work part time (off the books and under the table) but that wasn’t until early November-- I remember this because when I went in that first day all the half empty cups and kegs were laying around the yard from Biff’s Halloween party the night before. 

 

I sent a semi-hysterical e-mail to Biff (who’s trying to enjoy what may be his last vacation sans child).  He’s assured me it will be taken care of so I’m trying not to dwell on it obsessively and overall things seem to be looking up.  Work has been quite manageable, even pleasant for the past few days.  The boy I sort of like leant me his copy of Rushmore, which I’d never seen before through I like a couple of Wes Anderson’s other films.  I wonder if he leant me this particular movie to send a coded message that he’s receptive to a relationship with an older woman (actually that’s the sort of obscure connection between reality and fiction that only I would make).    

 

I’m obviously a little annoyed with my mother for all the pressure she put on me to be in New York over Christmas and she sent me an e-mail yesterday that I found particularly irksome.  Eileen, the woman who was our pastor (as well as a close friend) when I was living with my parents was getting married.  Mum’s immediate response-- “This’ll be the third time she’s gotten married.  Why bother?”  Mum later recanted somewhat and said that it was probably good that Eileen was still willing to try, but the initial reaction is so typical of my mother’s worldview—no tolerance for mistakes, judgmental of and superior to anyone who doesn’t abide by her standards which are the result of a very sheltered life dominated by fear the unknown and the need to control. 

 

I’d like to say that I haven’t let Mum’s views on relationships color my own but in all honesty they have.  I really feel like the fact that my last relationship didn’t work out means that I’m fundamentally unsuited to have any kind of a partner, like it wasn’t meant to be.  Even though I’ve had my crushes over the past five years I really can’t imagine anything coming of them.  They’re reasons for me to get up in the morning and put on my make-up but I do feel rather like I’m failed in that area, that I wasn’t good enough, that I made the wrong choices and missed my chance. 

 

Which isn’t right or real or true. 

 

Mum’s always believed in her own set of inflexible rules--  Anything too difficult was not meant to be and should be abandoned.  If you’re not happy with a situation you shouldn’t try to change it because there’s a good chance you’re the problem and you’ll be unhappy whatever situation you’re in.  If you’re in a bad situation it’s because there’s something wrong with you.  If you’re good and smart and moral you’ll find a man who’s taller than you, get married by the time you’re 25 and stay married for the rest of your life.  If not, you’re just pathetic. 

 

I think that in reality, these rules don’t exist.  The third time might be the charm for Eileen.  Or maybe the fourth will work out, or the fifth time or maybe she’ll just takes something valuable from each marriage.   Maybe someday I’ll have a boyfriend again or even a girlfriend.  It’s possible, it really is.  I just wish I could believe it. 

I’m feeling better.  I didn’t have work Tuesday so I worked on some of my Christmas art projects, then last night I managed to get through a closing shift without a crying jag or room spins for the first time since last Friday.

 

I pretty sure the efforts I’ve been making over the past month to get my weight back down have contributed to my recent difficulties.  I wasn’t exactly stable and well adjusted when I was eating 300 more calories a day, but I wasn’t quite so fragile.  I really have to ask myself, what’s more important to me?  Living my life and functioning or being thinner? 

 

There have been some difficulties in the past few days.  I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before I’m not going to my parents in New York over Christmas, I can’t because of work (there’s an official Time Off Blackout until 2008).  My sister and her family will be going to New York, so I will be alone on Christmas.  This doesn’t particularly bother me because between the food, the alcohol and the socializing holiday gatherings are mainly a source of anxiety and stress for me.  Also traveling around Christmas is a nightmare, especially when you toss in two small children and the biggest airport in the country. 

 

Basically I’m fine with not doing anything for Christmas.  I’m off work, I’ll go see Sweeny Todd or Youth Without Youth (first real starring role Tim Roth has had since I fell for him back in 2002).  I’ll work on the Christmas presents I’m making for my sisters and the kids.  I’ll write lesbian porn.  I’m very good at amusing myself. 

 

Unfortunately my family in New York is convinced that I’ll be thoroughly miserable, depressed and lonely.  My grandmother has written about how much she wishes I could be there for Christmas and how she hopes it won’t be too terrible for me staying in Chicago.  My mother has called repeatedly urging me to quit my job so I can come home for Christmas.  On Tuesday my father actually suggested it as well and he’s usually an advocate of responsibility and sticking things out.  I can tell he was really upset that I wouldn’t be able to be there and when he gets upset it upsets me.  My father isn’t an emotional person so when he does express his feelings it makes an impression. 

 

I think part of the reason my family in New York feels so strongly about this is that my Grandmother’s sister, my maternal Great Aunt, died last week in a sort of unpleasant way.  She was 93 years old and lived in Florida.  Basically decided she didn’t want to live anymore so she just stopped eating and drinking and died.  Given my history with eating disorders I suspect my family sees a certain parallel between her death and my constant struggle between whether I want a decent life or to be really, really thin. 

 

I wish there was some way where they could be happy and I could be happy.  Me being away upsets them but going back to New York would make me totally miserable.  As my brother-in-law so eloquently phrased it in a recent e-mail if I returned there would be “absolutely NO chance of advancing your career, finding anyone with teeth and not living with their parents for a relationship (or even a one night stand), no movies with a budget under 50 million dollars to see at the theatre, no lesbos....”  I might not have a blossoming career or girl/boy or girl/girl action at the moment but Chicago’s a big, bustling place and there are lot’s of possibilities.  Not to mention good movies. 

After my quasi-meltdown a few days ago I’m feeling a bit better.  Not good mind you but better.  I think I was rather ill and that had a lot to do with my level of despondency.  I had a long shift on Saturday (9:15 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.) and felt completely ill the entire time.  When I got home I ate dinner, took a shower and slept from 8:00 p.m. till I got up for work at 6:30 a.m.   I felt a bit better yesterday, though I did fuck up and have a $20 difference in my drawer.  It’s sort of a bind—I get written up if I take off sick too often and I get written up if I come in when I’m sick and can’t focus and make mistakes. 

 

Well, basically it comes down to this—if I’m dissatisfied I have to find another job and the only way to do that is to look through listings and send out resumes and go to interviews even though I feel like I can’t and I’d rather not.  It always comes down to that, me doing something.  I keep hoping someone will take care of things for me but it just doesn’t work that way but maybe that’s for the best.  I’d happily curl up and let things be handled for me if I could but there’s a price for security and safety.  Every time you let someone take responsibility out of your hands you give them that much more power over you, whether it’s my mother or the Bush administration.  In the long run it’s better to be anxious and uncertain.  It makes you stronger and braver.  I guess if you want freedom sometimes you have to put up with the drudge work. 

 

Though I must say I’m rather appalled by how few jobs there seem to be right now.  Looking over the Chicago Reader it seems like there were a fraction of the positions being advertised when I was looking two years ago.  Come to think about it I seem to find myself in crisis mode every December.  Two years ago it was work related-- I was working full time at Biff’s then and right after Thanksgiving he informed me I was going to be let go at the beginning of the new year (2006).  I wound up being able to stay on until mid August, 2006.  Last year it was vehicular, my stupid car kept breaking down with gave me a fine excuse for drinking to excess at my sister’s Christmas party and again on Christmas day. 

 

Well, none of that this year though I have to admit it’s a big temptation.  All those lovely bottles of wine that go past me in the market…. It’s so easy to think “everyone drinks, why shouldn’t I be able to.”  However I’ve managed to keep in mind that as bad as I feel now, mentally and physically I will feel many, many times worse after one of my binges. 

On Sunday I was working in the office but I took an hour off and met my sister and her family at the Renegade Craft Fair being held at the Pulaski Park field house.  I found a gift for my mother.  There was a vendor who made journal/sketchbooks out of old hardcover books.  One of them was made out of a 1951 Whitman Publishing company copy of Margaret Sidney’s The Five Little Peppers which was the exact same edition mum used to read us a chapter of every night for a bedtime story (she also read us Little Women and the Little House books this way.  I have my issues with mum but I do appreciate some of the things she did.)  She’ll either love it or think it’s horrible to cut up a book and make it into a journal. 

 

Last year I didn’t really give gifts as I was scarcely making my living expenses but I’m doing somewhat better now and am trying to get everyone something though I do wish I had more time and energy to make things.  In addition to the journal I also got my mother a pair of Bratz Lil’ Angelz holiday ornaments that she admired in Target when she was visiting.  They’re really cute with big heads and huge eyes.  I like dolls that are very exaggerated and cartoony and aren’t intend to look real.

 

I got my father a copy of the film To End All Wars, a film set in a prisoner of war camp during WWII.  I’d watched it a couple of months ago because I’m semi-obsessed with one of the actors who appears in it (Mark Strong) but I think he’ll find it interesting both for the historical element and it’s exploration of morality and spiritual issues.  It’s really an extremely powerful film, particularly in today’s climate where we’re being told that torture is acceptable and really being encouraged to view “the enemy” as less than human.  To End All Wars contains scenes involving a sort of primitive water-boarding and you realize it’s a horrible act of violence, not an “intensive interrogation” method.  Also, though the film is told from the perspective of Allied POW’s there’s a Japanese character, a translator, who is shown to be a kindred spirit to the narrator.  At its heart it really shows how honor codes trap men, Japanese and Western a like and how following the teachings of Christ is very much contrary to the ideas of good vs evil and us vs them that fuel wars. 

 

I’m also hoping to make some Christmas gifts.  A few days ago I bought some flour and salt (since I don’t actually have flour or salt in my apartment, the closest I get is textured vegetable protein and soy sauce) and am going to try and make bread dough ornaments.  I’ve haven’t gotten to it yet because 1) I had to work on stories that were due of 12/12 and 12/15 for 

fem_exchangeand yuri_challengeand 2) Winter weather makes my skin very dry and I get fissures in my fingers and I imagine kneading a dough made with a cup of salt would get very painful.  However I 've finished the stories and my hands seem to be healed so maybe tomorrow night....

 

It snowed on Tuesday night.  The first real snow of the year, everything blanketed in white.  I don’t like digging out my car or having to wear trekking around in boots but I’m still happy to have the snow, it makes it really feel like Christmas is coming. 

 

Mum stayed with my sister from Thursday until Sunday.  It was good to see her, but rather painful—she does push.  The minute she had me alone she started talking about how I should move back to upstate New York.  I could go back to work for the County and have health insurance that covered psychiatrist visits so I could have my medication monitored.  I could start a catering business using all the pots and pans she’s picked up at lawn sales and auctions.  At the very least I should quit my job at the market so I could come home over Christmas. 

 

I can’t help thinking that if I really meant as much to her as she says I do she’d accept my choice to live on my own in Chicago and not pressure me to move back home every time I saw her.  It’s very difficult for me to say no and I hate disappointing anyone but I have no intention of returning to my parents’ house. 

 

In fact, over the course of Mum’s visit she really reminded me why moving back is not an option.  She called and e-mailed from my sister’s constantly to make sure I was all right or just to inform me of what she was doing.  When I left my sister’s to return to my apartment she wanted me to call as soon as I got home.  When it rained on Saturday night she called several times to caution me to drive carefully.  On Saturday my sister’s family was taking her downtown to visit American Girl Place and have brunch with Ava, my brother-in-law’s mother.  I wasn’t planning on going because I had work later on and we’d discussed this but Mum still called early on Saturday trying to get me to come along and badgering until I had to say right out that I didn’t’ want to come because I haven’t been planning to come and I needed time to myself before work. 

 

This makes me feel inflexible and selfish, which I sort of am.  I realize that Mum feels persecuted and misunderstood by my father in New York and my sister in Chicago.  I’m very passive so I’ve always served as her ally, someone who will more or less go along with whatever she wants.  I don’t want to play this role but I don’t want to leave her on her own alone either, though in the end she’s going to have to work things out on her own.  That sounds harsh but I can’t sacrifice myself to appease her, which is what she expects from me.  

 

Not that her visit was unpleasant.  It was raining and my nephew was ill on Sunday so we didn’t go to see the windows on State Street as planned.  However we were able to go to some of the shops around the Damen/Division intersection with my sister which was fun.  Dozens of new shops have sprung up recently ranging from the super posh (Coco Rouge a high end chocolatier with a gorgeous décor combining red curtains and industrial design)  to the more accessible (Renegade Handmade, a shop put together by vendors from the Renegade Craft Fair).  I’ve started looking for Christmas gifts for people.  It’s not going to be easy on my budget but hopefully I can get small presents or make something for everyone.