Archive | December, 2010

Lateness Phobia

31 Dec

This one is a biggie for me, mostly because I have a phobia of being late.  When I was in school, I would have vivid nightmares that I missed the bus and was late to class.  If I have an interview or meeting someplace unfamiliar, I have to find the route a day ahead of time.  Otherwise I constantly worry that I will get lost and be late.  I mean, I’ll lose sleep over it!  Speaking of sleep, I ALWAYS wake up before my alarm clock goes off. . .  I would rather be much too early than show up someplace late.

I have no idea what the thought process of late people must be.  Do they just think—who cares, they’ll wait for me?  Late people are annoying, because it shows a total disregard for anyone else’s schedule and a lack of respect.  If you’re rude enough to be late on a date, you might as well just turn around and go home—it’s all over.  Though at least you showed your true colors early so I no longer have to deal with you.  I am most irritated when other people’s lateness affects me, and I cannot cut them out of my life. Say, when I have to work longer to finish everything cause you couldn’t drag your ass out of bed.  Being 50 minutes to 3 hours late makes me have to work harder to cover for you.  And being late twice in the same day, are you kidding me?!!  And it really sticks in my craw when the same people are 5-20 minutes late EVERY time they work.  These chronic late people stroll in to work assuming everyone else has taken care of everything for them.  What would happen if everyone was late?!

It’s even worse if the late person is full of excuses:  My alarm didn’t go off, traffic was horrible, I had errands to run, on and on.  I also have an alarm, had to drive to get here, and arranged my life in such a way that I would get here on time.  I don’t really want to hear your lame excuses!  If you’re shitty enough to be late, at least own up and admit that you suck that day.  I really can’t tolerate lateness because it’s very easy to overcome.  Wake up earlier, budget more time, whatever—make it a priority to be places on time.  Being late is just another form of selfishness.  It shows you don’t care enough to accommodate anyone else’s schedule.


PS:  You know since I wrote a blog about lateness I’ll probably be late to work tomorrow 😉


Who Do You Think You Are???

31 Dec

This one is directed at you, Richard Gere.  AND and other aged men trying to recapture their youth.  AND movie-makers.  Take note:

Ugh, does Richard Gere play the same character in EVERY movie?  I’ve heard of type-casting, but shouldn’t it at least make SENSE?  This guy isn’t youthful or alluring.  He needs to get a grip and come back down to Earth!  How in the world is an old guy with gray hair always portrayed as a heart-throb?  Frankly, no 20 year old girl is going to fall for a middle-aged (creeping up on elderly) dude—not unless he earned the salary of actual Richard Gere. Enough already with the romantic comedies. . .

Update:  I just saw “Looking for Mr. Goodbar” and Richard Gere is unrecognizable.  His hair has color!  Still, NOT hot.

I Have Finally Learned

31 Dec

I was credulously loyal to Mary, working for her on and off, for 7 years, and look what happened.  I worked for Noah’s Ark for almost  6 years.  Despite the fact Mary repeatedly told me I needed to work for the vet school, I stayed at the ark out of gullible loyalty.  Where did it get me?  I didn’t get into vet school–not due to Noah’s Ark, of course.  It maybe didn’t help my case though.  I also haven’t heard from those people in a year.  So why did I give up my life for them?

I haven’t been happy with Aurora Veterinary Hospital.  No one was especially friendly, and one of the vets was an outright bitch!  Though I naively worked hard and went above and beyond many times (taking Sunday kennel duties, changing the processor fluids on Sunday, etc. . .), they only nit-picked at me.  They did not appreciate my stellar work ethic in the least.  Also, Aurora wasn’t working with my schedule.  I am an honest, loyal person and don’t like to play dirty.  Instead of searching for a new job immediately (and against advice of trusted others), I was honest with management.  I requested a meeting telling them how worried I am that I do not have time to properly pursue my biggest goal–vet school.  To my face, they said they would be happy to work with me and give me a new schedule.  Then, when it came down to it, they blew off making changes, rescheduled multiple meetings, and reneged on any substantial schedule changes at all.  In the past, I would have stayed–however unhappily and at whatever peril to my own priorities and dreams.  Not anymore.  I did the ornery thing this time.  After I found out the two people I thought had my back at AVH (my boss and office manager who helped get me hired in the first place) actually didn’t give a fuck about me, I searched out tech jobs on Craigslist.  I was very hurt and disappointed ti find out the truth.

I honestly could do without the time-sucking nature of vet tech, dead-end positions right now, but it’s one of my few (legit) job skills and easy for me to secure.  Anyway, I e-mailed my resume’ to 3 jobs Thursday night last week.  By Friday, I had two interviews scheduled.  One office manager even called me from her cell phone on her day off to see if I could come in later that day.  Cut ahead–both interviews went well.  I got a good feeling about the smaller place–it reminded me of my hometown vet hospital before my (former) mentor there went crazy.  After an hour and a half interview, the Dr. informed me they didn’t actually have a position open.  WTF?!  He indicated they offered the job to someone previously and that person “sort of” accepted it.  The doc said that may change as quickly as tomorrow (Saturday) though and he would keep in touch.

Sure enough I got a call Saturday afternoon telling me they had an opening after all!  Of course the vet was going on vacation, then I have to work 7 days in a row at AVH, but after a working interview, I think I’m golden.  I don’t technically have a replacement job, but either way, when I went to work yesterday, I gave my letter of resignation to my boss (who never saw it coming) because this job just doesn’t feel right.  Why be so unhappy over a temporary, dead-end, loser job that has no bearing on my life?  It just isn’t worth the stress it was causing.  The next 2 weeks or month will probably awkward–you know, the normal gossip, questions, and possible anger, but I can get through it–cause at least I know I’m leaving.

I am relieved!  Happy to be reordering my priorities, glad to be away from Dr-bitch and the rest of the icy co-workers and the horribly entitled clients, and excited to maybe meet decent people in Seattle.  Between my job and the awful housing situation, I have grown to hate (maybe unfairly) this effing place.  Perhaps happiness in all areas of my life is on the horizon.

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Don’t Meth Around

31 Dec

Every state I’ve lived in (Montana, Nevada, Missouri, and Washington) says it is #1 for methamphetamine problems.  Well, it may just seem like it becuase meth is such a huge problem for every state.  I wanted to know for sure so I went on a search for accurate statistics from some reputable source.  Statistics according to the DEA–because most information is self-reported.

Meth production is biggest in California and Mexico, due to the new super-labs which produce

The United States as a whole put limits on the amount of pseudoephineprine and so the largest supplier of that key ingredient is Canada.

In 2008 MT (population 935,670) had 2.7 kg of federally seized meth and 5 lab incidents at the DEA, state, and local levels.

It is the most frequent drug problem in MT brought in via at least 10 routes from the Pacific Northwest by organized Mexican drug traffickers.  Local Meth labs number:  2003 = 56, 2004 = 35, 2005 = 25, 2006 = 16, 2007 = 7.

In 2008 Missouri (population 5,800,310) had 14.1 kgs of meth seized federally and 1,471 lab incidents at the DEA, state, and local levels.  Missouri is the #1 problem for methamphetimine use, sale, and small labs in the midwest.  As a state, local meth labs have numbered:  2003 = 2,776, 2004 = 2,807, 2005 = 2,170, 2006 = 1,288, 2007 = 1,189.

The western half of the state gets the majority of their crystal meth by highways.  Their meth labs had a decrease of 74% from 516 in 2004 to 136 in 2007.

The Eastern half of Missouri has a major problem with local meth labs, and law enforcement has seen a resugrgance in the number of meth labs since 2006.

In 2008, NV (population 2,414,807) had 44.1 kg in federal methamphetamine seizures and 6 DEA, state, and local meth lab incidents.

Meth is the #1 most frequently encountered drug in NV both for personal use and distribution.  The drug comes from super-labs in CA and Mexico, through both highway routes and organized Mexican drug trafficking organizations.  Local Lab busts:  2003 = 125, 2004 = 50, 2005 = 52, 2006 = 36, 2007 = 13.  NV has no real need for local labs because the purity of methamphetamine in 2005 neared the 90%-99% range, but has decreased to a wider range of 50%-99% in 2008.

In 2008, WA (population 6,549,224) had 95.4 kg in federal drug seizures and 72 DEA, state, and local meth lab incidents.

Crystal meth is the preference of WA, and is brought in by organized Mexican distributors from super-labs in Mexico.  Local meth labs are still found:  2003 = 546, 2004 = 337, 2005 = 148, 2006 = 119, 2007 = 72.


AZ:  For the 2008 population of 5,939,292 there was 263.4 kg of meth and 10 local meth labs.  Lab incidents by year from 2003-2007 are:  119, 71, 75, 41, and 8 respectively.

CA:  In 2008 the population was 36,132,147 and had 2,236.2 kg meth and 346 lab incidents.  Statistics for meth labs from 2003-2007 are:  1,281, 767, 468, 353, and 221 respectively.

ID:  In 2008, population of 1,523,816 has 4.5 kg and 12 local meth labs.  In 2003-2007 respectively there were  27, 21, 17, 8, 12 lab incidents.

NM:  In 2008, population of 1,928,384 has 35 kgs and 61 local meth labs.  In 2003 = 194 and 2004 = 120 meth lab incidents.

OR:  In 2008 the population was 3,790,060 which had 29.8 kg and 12 meth labs.  In 2005 OR had 190 local meth labs!  After the high meth lab count of 2005, OR enacted a law that pseudoephinephrine has to be purchased at a licensed pharmacy and the pharmacy is required to keep a log of purchases.  2006-2009 respectively were:  50, 22, 19, and 12.

UT:  Population in 2008 was 2,469,585 with 21.5 kg of meth and 7 local labs.  Previous local meth lab incidents were 2003 = 77, 2004 = 47, 2005 = 50, 2006 = 15, 2007 = 3.

WY:  Gets a lot of media coverage, but relatively low numbers at first glance.  Considering the low population size, WY is actually THE #1 state for meth/person.  In 2008, population of 509,294 and has 0.3 kg and 3 lab incidents.  From 2003-2007 respectively had local 26, 19, 9, 3, 5 labs.


IL:  population = 12,763,371, which has 8.3 kg and 324 labs.  No yearly stats provided.

KS:  population = 2,744,687, which has 39.6 kg and 143 labs.  High of 639 labs in 2003.

MI:  population = 10,120,860, which has 5.2 kg and 329 labs.  High of 341 labs in 2005.

MS:  population = 2,921,088, which has 2.4 kg and 296 labs.  High of 336 labs in 2003.

NE:  population = 1,758,787, which has 8.0 kg and 57 labs.  High of 248 labs in 2003 and 228 labs in 2005.

TX:  population = 22,859,968, which has 783.6 kg and 112 labs.  High of 688 labs in 2003.

WV:  population = 1,816,856, which has 0.0 kg and 49 labs.  No yearly stats provided.


CT:  0 kg and 0 labs in 2008.

DE:  0 kg and 0 labs in 2008.

ME:  0 kg and 0 labs in 2008.

NH:  0 kg and 1 lab in 2008.

RI:  0 kg and 0 labs in 2008.

Skid Row

31 Dec

Skid Row seemed terrible–all decorous behavior vanished, everyone lived like foul-smelling animals.  There is no beauty in poverty, and no comeliness in the life of an addict.  The fetid food offered by the missions is meant to be sustenance, not known for itstastefulness.  The decaying buildings were far from displaying pulchritude–even the shelters.  The hapless and malodorous residents are living in disgusting circumstances.  Some were just unlucky, ill-fated.  Most can blame their “ill-starred” plight on drugs.  Someluckless folks can blame their life on the fall of the economy.  Whatever the reason for their ill-fate, it is marring our beautiful country, and we have to come together as a nation and deal with the problem.

On Skid Row, pretty much anything goes–appropriate, socially correct behavior is relative.  Anyone who uses properEnglish on Skid Row would be marked as an outsider in no time–education is not valued there.  No one is courteous–instead using brawn and viciousness to obtain daily needs and wants.  The filth surrounding Skid Row is appalling–certainly far from comme il faut.  How can you expect manners or politeness from heroin addicts and drug dealers?   I noticed how most of the people on “Skid Row” were ultimately fallacious–reverting back to the same ‘ol drugs when it came down to it.  One of my favorite quotes:  How do you know an addict is lying?  His lips move.  It seems like all addicts are sophistic andspurious by nature.  Homeless people don’t want to be that way so they say plausible things about their goals and aspiration to get help, but the addict part kicks in.  It is ostensible that a drug users are enjoying themselves–when they’re under the influence, but being an addict isn’t fun.  It’s really sad that spurious junkies involve their families in their addictive behavior and its consequences.  The rank people on Skid Row are mostly addicts–70-90% of them, so the police know they are beyondreproach.  Addiction is one of the least handsome afflictions–it wracks the mind and erases all physical gorgeousness a person ever had.

To vituperate one person on Skid Row would be pointless, because there are so many criminals right there, and they would fill up all the jails in California–so they are pretty much left alone.  Even recovered people fall victim to their previous vices, and become sophistic about hiding their behavior.  The illusory solution to the problem is to segregate the homeless junkies, but that creates new, larger problems for L.A. and the nation as a whole.  The specious solution is throwing money at the problem, and sure, that would help, but for long term success, America has to fix the housing market, instill education, help inequality–it’s a multi-faceted problem with no easy solution.

Most of the homeless featured in the documentary parry questions, and insult interviewers to remain invisable–there is astigma in living on Skid Row.  These unfortunates do not want the world to see their troubles.  They had to use hidden cameras to film the documentary because the people on Skid Row were so Evasive about being taped.  The derelicts living on Skid Row were paranoid about cameras and camera crews, repelling all media from the streets.  No one wants to be seen in an environment where everything lovely is crumbled and in a state of debilitation.

The stinky residents on Skid Row also avoided police offers, and knew the documentary guy was a phony impostor when he approached police to ask what was happening.  When asked if they wanted to be homeless or do drugs the fetid people woulddeflect the question by foolishly asking for more drugs.  Skid Row inhabitants figured police, FBI, etc had a conspiracyagainst them.  The homeless addicts living there hated the police because they feared an insurrection.

Skid Row is not a new phenomenon–having established fusty, prehistoric roots back in the 1870’s!  Seattle coined thesuperannuated term “skid road” because the funky loggers would sleep in Pioneer Square on their off-season having no work or money.  It’s weird to me that these skid roads are right next to downtown metropolis areas–I wonder which is superseded.  It is no accident these jinxed fellows turned to drugs.  Drugs were introduced to Skid Roads in bygone times–quite early due to people down on their luck and desperate.  Vancouver’s Skid Row has the highest instance of heroin deaths, starting in datedtimes on the North American continent.  The dowdy hotels and cheap housing attracted out of work fisherman and loggers, then the drugs made it even more of a seedy area.

AIDS, HIV, and Hepatitis-C are not obsolete in the areas of Skid Row even with the aid of programs like the IV drug safe injection site in Canada.  Central City East is the outdated term for Los Angeles’ Skid Row.  An outmoded name for an area of 5th street occupied by putrid homeless is “The Nickle.”  There were stale accusations that the police and hospitals in L.A.ludicrously transporting the homeless to Skid Row instead of offering services to them.

The name Skid Row is so passe‘ that the fire station (#9) that services the area has “Skid Row” emblazoned on the sides of their fire-trucks.  New York’s “The Bowery” had the vintage name of Skid Row.  It is crazy to think the Skid Row statistics are not embellished.  Estimates of 7,000 to 8,000 homeless people in Los Angeles are not enhanced–there are really that many people on the streets on Skid Row.  It is not embroidery of facts that California government deemed the number of shelter beds inadequate for the amount of homeless and now absurdly allow camping on the sidewalks within boundaries of Skid Row from 9 PM to 6:30 AM.

The streets are adorned with 51.4% Hispanics, 25.5% Caucasians, and 16.7% African Americans.  It is no exaggeration that the per capita income for Skid Row is 41.8% below the poverty line.  Seeing the streets preposterously bedecked with tents, addicts, and human excrement is quite shocking from my living room–I can’t imagine seeing Skid Row in person.  It’s hard toelaborate on the problem of Skid Row without seeing it.  It is just not a silly problem, or the least of our worries.

In the rain, the rats ford across puddles and scuttle about the shelters to find a dry spot.  The people also traverse huge, puddles of filth on the streets on a daily basis.  Wading through urine, stool, drug paraphernalia, and trash is no way to live.  Almost all the residents of Skid Row suffer some sort of stigma.  They are marked by poverty, blemished from addiction,tainted with mental disorders, and stained from living hard.  The opprobrium falls not only on the homeless themselves, but on society–because we had a hand in putting those people there.  It is a blot on our country that there are Skid Rows scattered throughout with a throw away population living in filthy, horrid conditions.  The third world conditions on Skid Rowdiscredit us as a nation.  This is our punishment for fatuous treatment of failures in our society.

Baby Steps

31 Dec

I have always been empowered by a list, so maybe making this one will make me feel less helpless and frustrated and more monastic.

Firstly:  Get out of Seattle!

Get Cool out of the frat house, and into somewhere more contemplative so she can save money, and we can sleep.
search for Spokane jobs
get temporarily cheap housing
give notice at AVH
get cavities drilled
save more money
get an apartment to stay
get all the stuff to Spokane

#2:  Save money, money and more money.

Work at said job
limit expenses
pursue financial aid
look for outside funding
combine resources and save like the dickens
look for scholarships
call Pullman financial aid office for questions
fill out FAFSA

#3:  Get a head start:

Write/schmooze 6 prospective letter of recommendation writers
study GRE
work on essay
hone job descriptions to be very regimented
do mock interviews
request transcripts

#4:  Do it!

Call the school and ask questions
pay for the appliication the day it opens-and be self-abnegating in filling it out
send everything immediately
write it all out early–be disciplined
check it twice, later

Song Lyrics (not mine) + vocab.

31 Dec

“The only thing that I did wrong, I stayed in [Dayton four months] too long.”

In that time, my relationship with Mary, and ultimately Kim was sullied.

My impressions of both Kim and Mary were also defiled in a big way.

My memories of Kim and Mary were also tarnished when I realized what kind of people they had become or had always been–I wasn’t sure which scenario it was.

Mary besmirched her thirteen year marriage to Kim at every turn and it made me not only lose respect for her, but disgusted me as well.

That entire time in Dayton was tainted by poor choices, strife, and missteps by all involved.

“I wrote you a hundred letters I will never send. . .  Why won’t you answer me?”

While I was still living at the Cabin-Mansion and working at DVVH, I fervidly tried to recapture all I had lost, but it was too late–the damage was done.

I would get drunk almost every night (and day) and cry feverishly mourning all I had lost.

I started zealously typing all the events that were happening because I wanted to vent my pain, keep track of the unbelievable activities, and eventually write a book.

Kim was a wild card while I was there, after I left, and even in the present, running hot and cold, making me confused depressed so I wrote impassioned letters to her throughout the book.

I had many bad dreams of Mary and dreaded ever running into her in real life, so I wrote vehement letters to her as well–though they took on an angrier tone than the ones to Kim.

I started “Facebook-stalking” Kim and sent her passionate pleas to just tell me why she discontinued all communication–which maddingly, she never answered.

My “Cabin-Mansion” book is going to be one burning inscription after another, because it was such a traumatic and unbelievable experience.

“Just b/c I’m losing, doesn’t mean I’m lost. . .  Every river that I tried to cross, every door I ever tried was locked. . .  You might be a big fish in a little pond, doesn’t mean you’ve won.”

In her mid-life crises, Mary almost immediately retracted her support of my career, abjured her friendship, and recalled our entire relationship.

While I was living at the Cabin-Mansion, Mary rejected me entirely, and said she was no longer my mentor–it still makes me feel terrible and worthless even today (3 years later) as I write this.

It hurt a lot when my former mentor recanted her letters of recommendation on my behalf, and (I’m fairly certain) talked trash about me to everyone.

Worse, Mary felt the need to call the vet school I was applying to and abandon formally her former support of my acceptance, which was (of course) detrimental to my reputation.

At the end, Mary forswore her offer to provide me the fifth wheel in her yard as housing, as well as a job at her hospital.

“Painted ourselves in a corner. . .  But you could not interpret me and I could not interpret you. . .    . . .  After all that we’d been through, I could not see giving up. . .  And now we’re tumbling in a free-fall, no ones gonna go unscathed. . .”

Mary didn’t understand why I wasn’t the same person I had been before I came out to my parents and suffered my second failure from veterinary school, and I couldn’t forgive Mary for being in a mid-life crises and becoming undisciplined though her father had died days before, her niece had died a few months before, and her wife of thirteen years was becoming a full-on alcoholic.

Though I didn’t like Mary’s unrestrained, fairly open cheating on Kim, I thought she might regain her good senses–she didn’t gve me the same chance.

My heavy drinking didn’t help raise my morale, maintain Mary’s formerly high opinion of me, or minimize my already recklessbehavior.

Despite my own shortcomings, I still lost all respect for the way Mary treated people in her life, and especially her licentiouscheating.

Even at work, Mary became lewdly hostile towards me for no apparent (work-related) reason.

At the time, Mary was going through a mid-life crises, I was in my quarter-life crises, Kim was an alcoholic, and my parents were reacting to having a gay child–all of us displayed wanton behavior as a result.

Mary’s capricious values during that five month visit left me confused and conflicted.

“You’re gonna see soon that I’m not playin’, Start asking me the names I’m not sayin’, but I’m trying to be bigger than the bickering, bigger than the petty name calling. . .  Rumors, and labels, and categorization. . .

My parents knew I would no longer talk to them if they continued trying to control me, but simultaneously withholding emotional and financial support, but that didn’t stop them from their phony inquests about why I shut them out of my life.

Both my parents and Mary had ulterior motives in their quest to accuse me of being an alcoholic:  My parents had to show the community that they didn’t know my whereabouts because I had some sort of problem, and Mary had to justify her sudden horrid behavior towards me.

Soon Mary’s closest friends and her family would probe me about my drinking, my schedule, and why I wasn’t listening to anyone–I knew she was talking bad about me to everyone who would listen.

Mary became hateful towards me, because I stupidly made my investigation of her relationship with the hairdresser known, and she didn’t want me to have too much negative information on her.

I was so shattered about my life and the dysfunction going on around me, I became unable to concentrate, and I couldn’tstudy properly.

Everyone was getting their information secondhand–Mary refused to talk to me so she would glean things from Kim, my co-workers, or her friends who talked to me, and I cut my parents out of my life, so they inquired about me to everyone they came in contact with–it was a mess.

I had just about enough when Mary sent her mother and the hairdresser to research when my finals were so she could schedule the staff Christmas party on a day when I was stuck in Reno.

You can say what you want about me, keep talking while I walk away. . .  I’m taking the high road, going above you, this is the last time I’m gonna trust you. . .  All that bullshit you talk might work a lot, but it’s not gonna work today.

One of the biggest differences from my high school work experience which was pleasant, and the horrible times I went through in my post-college years, was Mary had become a nabob where she had been just starting out in those earlier years.

When I was living in the yard of the Cabin-Mansion, Mary was constantly pulling power plays on me to show me who was in charge, and to make me want to leave for good.

I ended up leaving Nevada, but not because the magnate, Mary forced me to–I had to go back to my apartment, and job at Noah’s Ark, and to keep my Missouri residency.

I realize Mary is only influential in her small hometown of Dayton, she’s just a big fish in a small pond, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with the ramifications of being on her bad list.

I am currently angry at that potentate of Dayton, Mary, who still holds a grudge against me, because she knows as well as I do that my only real mistake was knowing too much about her personal life for her comfort.

Dayton may think Mary is the perfect family member, business owner, and healer she portrays herself to be, but I know the truth–she is no luminary, she’s just terrified the town will see the real her.

I think Mary was always spoiled, always had a bad temper, and always held grudges against perceived enemies and threats to her security, but I think without all her money she wouldn’t see herself as a sort of dignitary who could do no wrong in the community.

As frustrating as it is to know Mary is not just the highly motivated tycoon with upstanding morals that she wants people to know, I refuse to engage in a power struggle with her–I’ll just write a book about my experiences.

“Something happened from the very first time with you. . .  Their piercing sounds fill my ears, try and fill with me with doubt. . .  In this world of loneliness I see your face. . .  I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you.”

I felt something powerful from the first time I met you–and from the first time I imbued upon alcohol.

When I came back to Nevada that August of 2007, all three of us were regularly charged with some sort of alcohol–it was a fun, care-free month.

I honestly tried to get myself back together when I went to Nevada, but the alcohol pervaded every aspect of the Cabin-Mansion with Kim drinking constantly, Mary drinking frequently, revolving guests, family around all the time, celebrations galore, and party after party.

Kim and alcohol were one and the same, and during my time at the Cabin-Mansion I loved both and permeated myself with them often.

Everyone involved was so sloppy that it was a freight train to disaster.

After the excitement of being there settled, I quickly realized there were many problems at the Cabin-Mansion including Kim’s drinking, but I stocked vodka in my fifth wheel so Kim would sneak out of Mary’s sight to wet her whistle, and as a consequence would chat with me for a little while.

I usually drank with Kim, but when she got a head start on me once and I saw with clear eyes how infused she was with drink I was actually afraid of both her drunkenness and how she drove home.

Despite the problem drinking (for both of us) I longed to moisten my lips with Kim. . .

It hurts my heart to see Kim’s present picture–the way her face is bloated and permanently dyed a ruddy hue.

“I can’t leave and I can’t stay. . .  Maybe I’m not your perfect kind, maybe I’m not what you had in mind. . .

Mary felt the need to issue many dictums including:  “I am no longer your mentor,” and “You are formally evicted,” which were implied, overly harsh, and unnecessary.

Though I saw things going sour almost immediately, I could not leave because I would lose enrollment money to UNR, so I had the adage, “things couldn’t get any worse,” and it proved incorrect.

Mary had the silent edict that I was not welcome in the Cabin-Mansion other than to use the bathroom, and then only during daylight hours and when no guests or company were present–this made life very difficult.

Mary also had the (not so silent) decree no one in her inner circle that was to remain on good terms with her could speak to me–it became unbearable being ostracized (for no good reason).

At first, I tried to remember that it was everyone else who was crazy and tried to live by the aphorism of keeping my head up and going about my business, but soon, the isolation and negativity got to me and affected me in a bad way.

In the end, I was completely depressed, my self esteem took a great hit, and I was very lonely–it was then my main apothegmwas to get out of there–by any means possible.

You with your silky words. . .  You with steel beliefs, that don’t match anything you do.  It was so much easier before you became you. . .  Now you don’t bring me anything but down. . .  Everything just crashes to the ground. . .  No more long and wasted nights. . .

While Mary was telling me to get my shit together, focus on school, and mend my relationship with my parents, she was falling apart in her mid life crises, cutting back her work schedule substantially, and cheating on her wife of thirteen years–wrapping my mind around the hypocracy caused me to suffer enervation that I could not stop.

I was a very languorous process trying to see Mary in a new light–and I still haven’t completely accepted it.

My biggest trigger for the debilitation called depression is finding out people (I trusted) are different than I originally thought.

As with Douche, finding out Mary was not the respectable, hard-working, loyal person I had thought she was brought on aweariness that was only relieved with alcohol.

When I lived in the Cabin-Mansion it seemed like I was always suffering from a tiredness, but unable to sleep–this was probably depression.

I wanted to prove that I could be a great student, and good worker, but the drinking caused a great listlessness, and I needed the alcohol to feel less anxious about the pervasive negativity infecting my living quarters, work environment, and everyone I ever came in contact with.

The lassitude lasted a full year after I moved away from the Cabin-Mansion–even despite my best efforts to get back on track–depression doesn’t just go away because you remove yourself from the environment which brought it on.

More Song Lyrics + Vocab [neither invented by me]

31 Dec

Gotta make that move and find someone who appreciates all the love I gave. . .   Gotta do what’s best for me, baby and that means I gotta shake you off. . .  You’re gonna miss me baby, hate to say I told you so. . .  You’ll never ever find a girl who loves you more than me. . .  I’ve gotta get this off my mind. . .  You wasn’t worth my time, so leavin’ you behind, cause I need a real love in my life. . .  Baby I’m gone

My mom, especially demanded that I was deferential to her rules, opinions, and ways of living.

I was never, never overly submissive, but I showed the utmost respect for authority figures, never questioning them.

I was amazed at my first job how everyone was impressed by my work ethic and servile attitude–it was just second nature because of my parents.

I was eager to please my new employer and just happy I was “allowed” to work in a vet hospital.

Mary got off on my subservience, and liked me because I admired her, and did everything she asked without question.

When I came back from Missouri, I was no less compliant, but I did question certain attitudes and ethics, which I hadn’t done prior to that time.

Once I no longer regarded Mary as a hero, my lack of obsequious admiration distanced me from my former mentor.

It’s like you’re a drug, it’s like you’re a demon I can’t face down, it’s like I’m stuck, it’s like I’m runnin’ from you all the time. . .   I’m addicted to you.  In my thoughts, in my dreams, you’re taking over me.  It’s like I’m lost, it’s like I’m giving up slowly.  It’s like you’re a ghost that’s haunting me–leave me alone.

From the time I met Kim and Mary, I wanted to gain their approval and praise.

In high school, my adulation towards the authority figures at work was no secret.

At the same time, they loved all the acclaim I gathered at school academically, athletically, and as a leader in the school and community.

Mary, especially loved my accomplishments and extolled my abilities over my personal attributes.

After leaving my small home town, the kudos dwindled substantially, not because I was a worse person, but because I was in a larger environment.

When the constant approbation ended, I felt Mary thought just a little less of me.

I felt staying in school, keeping up in classes, then getting a job deserved a little applause, but was paranoid people were disappointed that I was no longer bringing home all kinds of awards.

How Mary felt about my commendations (or lack thereof) and whether or not it would impact both our professional and personal relationship was always constantly on my mind.

After the whole Cabin-Mansion scene, I just KNEW Mary was not only not exalting the good things I did, but calling me a loser to everyone she (and I) knew.

I knew the entire town would never hail me with praise again if I were on Mary’s bad-side–even though the things she is probably saying are not true.

I can only blame myself, you can only blame me. . .  You put me on a line, hung me out to dry. . .  You cut me down to size, and opened up my eyes, made me realize, what I could not see.  And I could write a book, the one they say that shook, the world . . .  And I could write it down, spread it all around. . .  With nothing left to give, forget, but not forgive. . .

Mary seemed to take pleasure in continuing her animosity towards me.

Her total abhorrence of me was evident every time she looked at me–or didn’t.

Mary’s absolute glee was displayed when she was hostile and told me she was no longer my mentor.

I had seen Mary display repellance many others (Shawn Minor, my mom, her “God-Sister”) but never towards me, so it hurt especially bad.

Her hatred of me became evident at work, when she was either ignoring me entirely or nit-picking everything I did.

Mary showed her extreme dislike of me when she had parties in the yard (that I lived in) and pointedly didn’t invite me to them.

It wasn’t until Mary’s loathing caused her to call my mom and say I was a sloppy drunk that I realized I might have a drinking problem.

I didn’t know what to think about my own drinking, because I realized Mary’s revulsion of me influenced her opinions of my drinking habits.

Mostly, I think what Mary had the most enmity for, was that I knew too much about her (sketchy) personal life and I was too close to her inner circle, house, and work–I was in a good position to destroy her if I wanted.

Nothing I did could have really changed Mary’s mind about me so completely–her repulsion towards me was reallyrepugnance of her own behaviors.

I could never confront Mary and never did gain any kind of upper-hand, so now it is my turn to show my aversion to Mary (and Kim) by writing the story of what happened.

Antipathy may not make me the bigger person, but I feel like consequences should be suffered by those people who scarred me.

I write about my animus for those who have wronged me, to get it out and forget about it.

If ever your world starts crashing down. . .  that’s where you’ll find me.  God love your soul and your aching bones. . .  We just can’t get it right. . .  Lost til you’re found, swim til you drown, know that we all fall down.  Love til you hate, strong til you break, know that we all fall down.

My applications to University of Missouri’s veterinary school were always ill-fated.

I got very close to acceptance many time, but was just unlucky.

I started feeling jinxed, especially when some of the shit-heads I had worked with got in to vet school over me.

Unfortunately, that is when my parents were going through their own spiritual crises and trying to reconcile the fact I am gay, so they withdrew all emotional and financial support.

My depression only increased as my luckless streak continued in what I hoped would be my refuge–Nevada.

It was my ill-starred fate that when I arrived everything was different:  Mary was going through a mid-life crises, her father died 3 days before I arrived, and Kim was a full-blown alcoholic–and everyone was looking for a scape-goat.

With my hapless existence, no wonder I started drinking too much.

. . .  Can’t imagine what else could go wrong. . .  Yeah I might feel defeated, and I might hang my head, I might be barely breathing, but I’m not dead, no.  Cause tomorrow’s another day, and I’m thirsty anyway, so bring on the rain. . .  No I’m not gonna let it get my down, I’m not gonna cry, and I’m not gonna lose any sleep tonight. . .

I am a strong person, so even though I felt sad by the ups and downs that took place at the Cabin-Mansion, I was determined to achieve my goals.

As infuriating as Mary’s disdain for me was, it was Kim’s inconsistencies that I took most personally.

There was a variation in everything from the times when I was in high school, and I couldn’t believe it was irreversible.

There was also a vicissitude in me that could not be reconciled–the experience forever hardened me.

The change in me was both good and bad–I learned to depend on myself, to work hard even when the effort goes unappreciated, and to write to excise my pain, but I also became resistant to control, started drinking to combat my depression, and became terribly obsessive and more paranoid.

I suppose it is difficult to image the mutability of every place, and person in your life–nothing stays the same forever and we can’t expect it to.

Now that you are out of my life, I’m so much better, You thought that ‘d be weak without ya, But I’m stronger, You thought I’d be broke without ya, but I’m richer, You thought that I’d be sad without ya–I laugh harder, You thought I wouldn’t grow without ya, Now I’m wiser, You thought that I’d be helpless without ya, Now I’m smarter. . .  I’m a survivor, I’m not gonna give up, I’m not gonna stop, I’m gonna work harder, I’m a survivor, I’m gonna make it. . .  Thought that I would fail without ya, but I’m on top. . .  You thought that I would self-destruct, but I’m still here. . .

I am happy to say I’m better off without Mary, Kim, and for that matter, Douche out of my life for good–I have more vitality when these negative influences on my life have been extricated entirely.

I still feel like a loser sometimes, because I haven’t achieved my goals quickly, but proving these characters wrong, just gives me more energy to pursue good things in my life.

Without Mary in my life, I have more force to accomplish things–without knowing it, I was under her restraint.

I’m happy to say, I didn’t implode like my enemies predicted I would–the vim I feel is greater than when they were around me.

Mary, Douche, others have tried to steal my power, and without them I have regained it–I am in charge of me.

I can almost see it, that dream I’m dreamin’, but there’s a voice inside my head, say you’ll never reach it.  Every step I’m taking, every move I’m making, feels lost with no direction.  My faith is shaken, but I gotta keep trying, gotta keep my head held high.  There’s always gonna be another mountain, I’m always gonna wanna make it move.  Always gonna bean uphill battle, sometimes I’m gonna have to lose, ain’t about how fast I get there, ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side–it’s the climb.  The struggles I’m facin’, the chances I’m takin’, sometimes might knock me down, but no I’m not breaking. . .  Just gotta keep goin’, and I, I gotta be strong, just keep pushing on.

I came close, but even at my worst depression, sloppiest drinking, I never lost my sense of self esteem–I know I am beautifulinside.

The Cabin-Mansion threw me for a loop and made me doubt myself and my pretty future, but I know better now.

At that time, there was no prettiness in Mary–she was ugly inside, dark, and horrible based on her actions.

When people are ugly on the inside, it affects their physical appearance in my mind–I automatically feel bad people are lesslovely looking.

Melissa was the most gorgeous girl I had ever known, but when she proved irresponsible, phony, and entitled, I could only notice her physical flaws.

Melissa never had to work for anything in her life because of her comeliness, so I was jealous and disdainful of her.

It sounds trite, but without the journey, the rewards of life achievement and accomplishment of dreams is less handsome of a prospect.

Because I have had to work so hard to become a veterinarian, I will find much more pulchritude in my job, and appreciate it so much more than the people who got there easily.

You take things so much easier than I do, you could live your life without me if you had to. . .  If you ask which one wants to go the distance-I do. . .  I’m gonna rack my mind one last time, until I cannot think.  I’m gonna dip into your memory and take a good stiff drink, and when I’m drunk on the last drop of sadness about how we went wrong, I’m gonna play this song, make some coffee black and strong, give thanks for healing time, finally make up my mind–these are the least tears I’m gonna cry for you, baby my cryin’s through, I’m movin’ on. . .

I know I was in a crises as well, because after college graduation, I started wandering from place to place.

I was looking for comfort in those days, and I remembered Mary and Kim providing it in high school so I became nomadicand left the stability in Missouri for (what I thought) was sympathy in Nevada.

I was still unsettled in Nevada, because the Cabin-Mansion scarred me and made me feel depressed and lost, so I went back to my familiar life in Missouri.

I couldn’t forget about the old Kim and Mary, and longed for things to be reconciled, so I was still unhappy, and left Missouri to go to Nevada to get to vet school, choosing the itinerant life.

When that didn’t work out either, I thought I could find happiness in Seattle, and then Spokane Washington–I was officially avagrant with 3 states and 5 moves in 3 years.

Love Wish List

31 Dec

Disclaimer:  All right, I have a blog topic, but I’ve been holding back for fear it’s not nice.  I don’t mean for this to be offensive (except maybe to Douche), so don’t take it personally.   I realize love interests come in a diversified shade of varieties.  I just want to adhere to a minimum set of standards to keep ME happy.  So come on variegated love-choices, just make sure you generally fit the criteria.

I think it’s a good idea to have standards in mind before I get involved with anyone.  I never want to hurt any feelings, so end up compromising what I want sometimes.  I will not enter into more dead-end relationships.  More importantly, I will not let the past ruin me—I will remain open and unscathed so as to maximize my chances of finding the right person. Taking the lead from Alanis Morressette here are “21 Things I Want in a Lover.”  Probably more:

-Preferably thin, but will settle for athletic or slightly curvy (we can take up running)

-Enjoys good food.  I LOVE to eat, so they can’t be a super-picky eater.

-Likes to cook (a chef would be ideal!).

-No red hair

-MUST shower every single day


-Keeps a clean house, or at least not disgusting

-Needs to like animals

-RESPONSIBLE for any pets.  No more I *love* my (neglected, unhealthy, untrained) pet

-Needs a job.  Shows up at said job.  Works while at the job.  Can’t sleep during work!

-Has their own transportation

-Open to moving (not immediately, but some day)

-Not riddled with debt

-Doesn’t spend too much money

-Goals in life—you’re not just gonna live off me

-No degree is necessary, but have brains and common sense

-Someone who reads

-No dummies, good spelling and grammar is requested

-Witty would be nice


-Has clear boundaries–and respects MINE

-Upstanding morals.  I can let go of your past, but it shows your character

-Doesn’t NEED to be constantly in the presence of other people (I’m a home-body)

-Does not need to call or see parents every day

-Not a door mat

-Likes to drive, cause it’s not MY favorite

-Likes to do active things

-Also likes to sit still and watch movies

-Doesn’t need public displays of affection to be happy

-Uninhibited, ummm, you know 😉

-Enjoys giving massage (hey a girl can dream!)

-Laid back—I’m high strung enough for the both of us

And obviously, you don’t have to meet ALL of these criteria, it’s just a guideline.  The list isn’t THAT long.  I mean, some of these shouldn’t even have to be said. . .

Edit:  OMG!  I can’t believe I forgot to mention the #1 instant deal-breaker.

NO SMOKING of any kind.  Not when drinking, not occasionaly, no chewing.  Tabacco is disguesting!!!!

Nobody Cares About Trash in the Desert (initially posted 5-15-09)

31 Dec

It seems nobody cares enough to DO anything!  I have extensively tried to contact some eagency in hopes of putting the kabash on the cabal of people who are dumping their trash in the desert.  I would think someone, whether it be the public or the government would give a damn, but they don’t.  There was no coterie who wanted to help the situation–everyone just pushed the responsibility on to some other group.  There is not just a little trash in the middle of the desert, we’re talking broken glass, entire truckloads of garbage, and even sea-dos and cars! I’m not the only one who goes out there, either. Everytime I go running, I see other people walking, hiking, runing, and riding bikes and motorcycles. I find it appalling that there is no clique trying to fight for the environment, no mob who wants to keep our community beautiful.  For drammatic effect:  If people don’t care for any other reason, at least a ring of citizens should consider this is right next to a veterinary hospital, public park, and an elementary school–save the children and the animals!!!  The circle of businesses (ironically including the dump) is directly affected.  Who is in charge, and why aren’t they doing anything???

Dear Governor Gibbons,

I grew up in Dayton, attending school from kindergarten to my senior year here.  I love this community and would like it to remain beautiful.  I am writing because I am very concerned about the trash that gets thrown in the desert.  I know I am not alone in this endeavor and there is a clan of people who also want to keep nature intact in Dayton.

Just outside Mark Twain Park, on Roughing It Road, less than 3 miles from the city waste disposal plant, Lyon County’s beauty is marred.  A cabal of people are dumping truckloads of garbage, old machinery, and even cars!  I like to run on the trails in that area, as do many other people, and was quite appalled to see the sheer amount of waste on our land.   I have witnessed pick-ups driving in the desert with loads of trash and coming back to Six Mile Canyon Road or Highway 50 with an empty truck bed. It seems, nothing can be done to stop them.

I called waste management, parks & recreation, and other numbers that those entities referred me to.  I got the impression this situation isn’t under anyone’s jurisdiction.  I am planning to organize my own trash pick up on May 30, since other community service groups only serve Washoe County and Carson City.  No government organization could even offer me free trash bags or gloves to borrow.  The whole situation is very frustrating!  I feel like no one cares enough to help the situation.

I would like consequences for that small in-group of people that dump in the middle of the desert, maybe a “no dumping” sign posted on the premises, and support (in the form of gloves to borrow, trash bags, and a dump site discount) for other proactive people wanting to pick up the trash.

Thank you for your time.
Lavrel L5hl