the jock-itch has returned.
this is both literally true, and a good metaphor for how my life feels in general at the moment.
fungus is rapidly becoming something other than my favorite thing ever (big mushroom and yeast fan. i'll tell you about it later.)
fungus, is starting to really irritate me.
also, i feel like i weigh a ton.
that is all.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Well, I Asked For It...
recent events aren't actually doing much to make me something other than "the WEIRD guy," but they're certainly making me... something...
they're making me think i should be careful about wistfully longing for change.
because karma has no, sense of humor. none. at least, you won't find the shit funny until some time has passed. because karma, is one bad ass, combat boot wearing, sniper rifle carrying, unfiltered cigarette smoking, whiskey chugging, souped up mustang driving, all bets are off motherfucker.
recent events:
1) my store manager was fired.
2) two thirds of the staff decided to quit in a show of solidarity. or something. reasons are varied, but the general consensus is that things are just not the same. also, lots of them are young, and "don't want to work for a corporation that would just fire someone whose worked for them for seven years!" i must bite my tongue to not yell that indeed, all corporations are like that. oh well. i'm cynical. bite me.
3) i'm staying. and the next two months are going to be chaotic, depressing, and a major pain in the ass. but i need the job, i need the money, i need the insurance, and i probably need to learn how to weather such storms and practice saying the serenity prayer. so i'm staying. perhaps a raise or promotion is even in the works! who knows, right?
4) i feel fat like easter candy. i feel like a cadbury creme egg (i HATE those fucking things! EWWW!!!). after a three week hiatus, i'm back on a workout schedule, but i'm tired, man. i'm tired, and i feel like a jiggly pudding cup, and i'm just... not pleased with my physical situation right now. my blood sugars took this brief opportunity to climb up to unacceptable levels, and when i close my eyes, i see doctors amputating my gangrenous toes one by one. also, not exercising makes me depressed. welcome to suckfest.
5) my sister's totally unnecessary breast lift (she's twenty-three and gorgeous. and i'm not saying that because i'm her brothers. she's fucking beautiful. no one has EVER complained about how she looks naked. and she ain't the neighborhood bike or nothin', but she's had her kicks, y'know?) is coming up in a week and a half. i keep hoping she'll wake up one morning and say, "wow, this is something i don't have to do, and don't want to do! i like my body, just the way it is!" she won't. and i have to be supportive. but coming from a place where i've been diagnosed with a number of actual physical diseases that don't "go away" or "get healed," things that i just have to "deal with," this is all just too strange.
in fact, let's explore this last one a bit more. because recently, i've been rather upset with my body. i feel as though i've been doing everything right: i eat really, really healthily; i exercise regularly; i try to stay on top of my psychological shit, so as not to go apeshit; i take all my medications, on time and as prescribed; i don't drink, smoke, or toke.
my repayment: low functioning thyroid. totally treatable, common, no big deal.
BUT IT BASICALLY FEELS LIKE MY BODY IS GIVING ME THE FINGER AND TELLING ME TO GET BENT!
born with club foot. operated on. leg looks funky, but i can walk just fine, and have never had a problem with the limb since.
never a jock, never a fan of physical activity. feel fat. always. will only wear sweatpants or shorts until fifth grade. my first appearance in jeans is remarked upon by all the cool kids. super.
diagnosed with insulin dependent diabetes. ten years this july. thrilling. just, thrilling.
depression, alcoholism, drug abuse. attempted slutty behavior (failed, despite my best, most drunken efforts).
hypo-thyroid condition.
and this is totally turning into a pity party, and i don't want it to be. i don't like spending time moaning about how bad i have it, because i don't actually think i have it all that bad. i'm completely mobile, i'm smart and mentally agile, i'm articulate, i'm physically attractive despite my best efforts to hide or ignore it, i can basically do, whatever i choose to do. because i'm also a white male, not overtly effeminate, born into a middle-class family of well-educated professionals, with enough money left to me by my dead grandparents to pay for college and allow me to feel safe and comfortable. i really, have it fucking made.
i'm just shocked, is all.
i keep expecting that at some point, i'll get used to it. one day, i'll wake up, and everything i eat, every action i take, all the things i do that count double, because of my diseases, well, i'll just be all right with them. i'll have "dealt with them," and that'll be that. but i don't get used to them. you apparently can't just put these things to bed and get on with your life. and its so amazing to me that every time i have to tweak my insulin doses, or force myself to go to the gym, or work really hard to not eat that one cookie, its like a slap in the face. its fresh again, real, visceral. and lately, its been driving me crazy.
i've mentioned (have i? i don't remember...) that my current "project" is to not invalidate my feelings, but rather to let myself feel them, and accept them as just as powerful a reality as "objective" reality. and i didn't expect that a great deal of feelings are wrapped up in my health issues. which is so silly sounding when i type it. but i really thought i had dealt with it; packaged it, boxed it, taped it up, and put it on a shelf with a label so i can find it if necessary. but with this whole last month, its really been one big frustrated and pissy "FUCK IT!" i'm tired of dealing with this shit. i'm tired of everything i do having both an immediate effect, and a long term cumulative effect. i'm tired of my future forever being a question of "i wonder if i'll get to keep both my feet?" i'm tired, and i'm sad, and i'm pissed of, and the wound isn't healed, it isn't even scabbed over at the moment, its open, and bloody, and it hurts and hurts and hurts.
so perhaps you can see why my sister's unnecessary surgery is bugging me so much. BEYOND the fact that i think plastic surgery, or cosmetic surgery, or "getting work done" is just, its so horrible. its such a hatred of body and self, to feel you need to erase, or jostle, or change what you were born with, and given by the universe. and obviously, i'm not talking about corrections of major issues, be they accident induced, or genetic. because we are a society that judges people on looks, and everyone deserves at least a fighting chance. supermodels are supermodels for a reason (and that reason is anorexia and cocaine) but no one should be relegated to the category of sideshow anomoly. (though i suppose there could be good money in the field. i don't know. i've never checked.) but my sister is beautiful. she's beautiful, and so gorgeous, and i don't want her to feel the need to change for anybody. i want her to see herself the way i see her. i want her to feel as beautiful as she looks. i don't want her to let people cut on her so her "saggy titties" don't bother her anymore.
but of course, i'm a little biased.
in other news, i think the jock-itch has cleared up. and that makes me pretty happy.
sigh...
they're making me think i should be careful about wistfully longing for change.
because karma has no, sense of humor. none. at least, you won't find the shit funny until some time has passed. because karma, is one bad ass, combat boot wearing, sniper rifle carrying, unfiltered cigarette smoking, whiskey chugging, souped up mustang driving, all bets are off motherfucker.
recent events:
1) my store manager was fired.
2) two thirds of the staff decided to quit in a show of solidarity. or something. reasons are varied, but the general consensus is that things are just not the same. also, lots of them are young, and "don't want to work for a corporation that would just fire someone whose worked for them for seven years!" i must bite my tongue to not yell that indeed, all corporations are like that. oh well. i'm cynical. bite me.
3) i'm staying. and the next two months are going to be chaotic, depressing, and a major pain in the ass. but i need the job, i need the money, i need the insurance, and i probably need to learn how to weather such storms and practice saying the serenity prayer. so i'm staying. perhaps a raise or promotion is even in the works! who knows, right?
4) i feel fat like easter candy. i feel like a cadbury creme egg (i HATE those fucking things! EWWW!!!). after a three week hiatus, i'm back on a workout schedule, but i'm tired, man. i'm tired, and i feel like a jiggly pudding cup, and i'm just... not pleased with my physical situation right now. my blood sugars took this brief opportunity to climb up to unacceptable levels, and when i close my eyes, i see doctors amputating my gangrenous toes one by one. also, not exercising makes me depressed. welcome to suckfest.
5) my sister's totally unnecessary breast lift (she's twenty-three and gorgeous. and i'm not saying that because i'm her brothers. she's fucking beautiful. no one has EVER complained about how she looks naked. and she ain't the neighborhood bike or nothin', but she's had her kicks, y'know?) is coming up in a week and a half. i keep hoping she'll wake up one morning and say, "wow, this is something i don't have to do, and don't want to do! i like my body, just the way it is!" she won't. and i have to be supportive. but coming from a place where i've been diagnosed with a number of actual physical diseases that don't "go away" or "get healed," things that i just have to "deal with," this is all just too strange.
in fact, let's explore this last one a bit more. because recently, i've been rather upset with my body. i feel as though i've been doing everything right: i eat really, really healthily; i exercise regularly; i try to stay on top of my psychological shit, so as not to go apeshit; i take all my medications, on time and as prescribed; i don't drink, smoke, or toke.
my repayment: low functioning thyroid. totally treatable, common, no big deal.
BUT IT BASICALLY FEELS LIKE MY BODY IS GIVING ME THE FINGER AND TELLING ME TO GET BENT!
born with club foot. operated on. leg looks funky, but i can walk just fine, and have never had a problem with the limb since.
never a jock, never a fan of physical activity. feel fat. always. will only wear sweatpants or shorts until fifth grade. my first appearance in jeans is remarked upon by all the cool kids. super.
diagnosed with insulin dependent diabetes. ten years this july. thrilling. just, thrilling.
depression, alcoholism, drug abuse. attempted slutty behavior (failed, despite my best, most drunken efforts).
hypo-thyroid condition.
and this is totally turning into a pity party, and i don't want it to be. i don't like spending time moaning about how bad i have it, because i don't actually think i have it all that bad. i'm completely mobile, i'm smart and mentally agile, i'm articulate, i'm physically attractive despite my best efforts to hide or ignore it, i can basically do, whatever i choose to do. because i'm also a white male, not overtly effeminate, born into a middle-class family of well-educated professionals, with enough money left to me by my dead grandparents to pay for college and allow me to feel safe and comfortable. i really, have it fucking made.
i'm just shocked, is all.
i keep expecting that at some point, i'll get used to it. one day, i'll wake up, and everything i eat, every action i take, all the things i do that count double, because of my diseases, well, i'll just be all right with them. i'll have "dealt with them," and that'll be that. but i don't get used to them. you apparently can't just put these things to bed and get on with your life. and its so amazing to me that every time i have to tweak my insulin doses, or force myself to go to the gym, or work really hard to not eat that one cookie, its like a slap in the face. its fresh again, real, visceral. and lately, its been driving me crazy.
i've mentioned (have i? i don't remember...) that my current "project" is to not invalidate my feelings, but rather to let myself feel them, and accept them as just as powerful a reality as "objective" reality. and i didn't expect that a great deal of feelings are wrapped up in my health issues. which is so silly sounding when i type it. but i really thought i had dealt with it; packaged it, boxed it, taped it up, and put it on a shelf with a label so i can find it if necessary. but with this whole last month, its really been one big frustrated and pissy "FUCK IT!" i'm tired of dealing with this shit. i'm tired of everything i do having both an immediate effect, and a long term cumulative effect. i'm tired of my future forever being a question of "i wonder if i'll get to keep both my feet?" i'm tired, and i'm sad, and i'm pissed of, and the wound isn't healed, it isn't even scabbed over at the moment, its open, and bloody, and it hurts and hurts and hurts.
so perhaps you can see why my sister's unnecessary surgery is bugging me so much. BEYOND the fact that i think plastic surgery, or cosmetic surgery, or "getting work done" is just, its so horrible. its such a hatred of body and self, to feel you need to erase, or jostle, or change what you were born with, and given by the universe. and obviously, i'm not talking about corrections of major issues, be they accident induced, or genetic. because we are a society that judges people on looks, and everyone deserves at least a fighting chance. supermodels are supermodels for a reason (and that reason is anorexia and cocaine) but no one should be relegated to the category of sideshow anomoly. (though i suppose there could be good money in the field. i don't know. i've never checked.) but my sister is beautiful. she's beautiful, and so gorgeous, and i don't want her to feel the need to change for anybody. i want her to see herself the way i see her. i want her to feel as beautiful as she looks. i don't want her to let people cut on her so her "saggy titties" don't bother her anymore.
but of course, i'm a little biased.
in other news, i think the jock-itch has cleared up. and that makes me pretty happy.
sigh...
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