dream

Had a dream last night that I was getting married...to a woman. I had no interest in marrying this woman. She was actually someone I know, who in real life is straight, about 22, and has a boyfriend. In the dream, she told me that she'd known me since she was 13, when she was a nanny, and there had been a time when she was taking care of the kids (why she was a nanny at 13, I don't know, but none of this makes sense beyond showing me that I'll never get what I want) and we were hanging out and she thought life was just perfect and she knew she wanted to be with me.

In the dream, I change dresses 3 times. None are perfect for me, and everything is rushed and chaotic and we are at different locations. And through it all, I know that this is not right and not what I want and I shouldn't be going through with it, and yet I am. Because it's all I get? Because it's as close as I can get to what I DO want? Because I know I'll be alone otherwise? And I feel badly because I don't want what she wants, and yet I'm going along with it.

Even in my dreams, I only get scraps. Not that being with a woman is "scraps" for someone who wants that - it's just that I don't. And the possibility of finding someone seems so far away, a fantasy really, reserved for people who deserve it.

Was watching a woman be interviewed recently and she was asked "what does home mean to you?" What he meant was "what do your husband and child mean to you?" and she said it meant everything. That you could have things and a career and friends, but nothing else mattered as much.  That's the deficit I'm living under, the huge missing piece that people tell me I don't really want, or that "relationships are never perfect" (people insist on telling me this almost daily - I must really appear to be an idiot to them). But when you ask people what it means to THEM, it's always the most important thing EVER. So why's it the most important thing to THEM, and yet it's something I'm not supposed to want? Why am I so lucky that I get to live a life alone? Why?

too bad cats aren't affectionate

It's always one of those really telling things...like you know when people are talking about things, but they're really telling things about themselves that aren't really that flattering, like they'll go, "I don't like cats. I like dogs. You know why? Because they don't greet you, they don't praise you, they don't make you feel whole. They just sit there. They're never excited...", and 10 minutes into their fucking cat soliloquy, you're thinking, how fucking insecure can a human being be? You need a dog to stroke you and tell you you're a genius? "Man, that set last night was fucking awesome!" Is that what you need your cat to do? "Let me get you a cold one!" -Adam Carolla

And isn't it too bad that cats are so sneaky and don't like to interact with people, and just think of people as their "staff", and aren't loving, and might suck out your breath, etc etc fucking shut the fuckity fuck UP and stop showing how ignorant and misinformed you are. Seriously.

(p.s. I do not put her here. This is where she likes to be)

Fireball

Of all the names I was called when I was a kid, I really despised one of them, one that I think was actually meant as a term of endearment by the main perpetrator (and somewhere I have an autograph book where he signed it with this name). Fireball. Obviously, this referred to my hair (and maybe my temperament), which I hated then for both its curl and color, and my belief that it could never be long or move in the wind because that's not what curly hair did. It stayed there, immobile and frozen in a horrible Jewfro, and made me undesirable to everyone, including myself. Now I say: the redder the better. The curl still annoys me, and I'm happier during the rare times when it's blown straight. But then it was just another thing that made me a freak. But I must admit my enduring love for my namesake candies. I love me some Fireballs. And though I have an odd relationship with cinnamon (I like it in this, but not in that, etc), I cannot resist the lure of the Fireball. At 99 cents a bag, they're an occasional habit that's easy to re-pick up. And keeping with the red theme, I got a new phone, a smartphone, FINALLY, with all the bells and whistles. I had a choice of black, white or red. I had to go with the red. It's my favorite color now, in all its various hues and saturations.

I'm reading the current issue of Wired magazine and they have some smartphone reviews in there. One phone (not mine - can't remember which one) apparently only comes in red, which Wired has deemed "too flashy" for anyone who is over the age of 11 or who isn't Lady Gaga. But since coming around to embrace my red was so hard-won, I don't feel so bad about having a "flashy" phone.

Speaking of reds, took this a few days ago. Beautiful wetlands. I do love the colors, but I do not love what they portend, and the call of another location is still pretty prominent. But I feel so stuck and alone and not capable of making this decision on my own. And yet on my own is where I'm at. 

What else? Random Shirley pic? Why, sure (purr/stare/purr):

Vintage leather suitcase I bought at a rummage sale on Saturday for $2!

Welcome to my every Wednesday. .1 ccs of please-for-the-love-of-all-that-is-furry-START-WORKING:

I saw the neuro-ophthalmologist again today. And as of last week, my vision is back to its old nearsighted state. No farsightedness, and no mega-nearsightedness. I've never been so grateful for my crappy vision (and it is bad; as one of the docs said, "you're VERY nearsighted"). But I've found out that one of the unexpected perks of being nearsighted is that you often maintain your close-up vision when others, who aren't nearsighted, start to lose theirs with age. And I have friends who are doing the hold-things-two-feet-from-you-and-squint thing (and seriously, if you're afraid of looking old by getting bifocals or reading glasses, that squinty thing makes you look positively geriatric. Deal with it), but not me. My close-up vision is back. It terrified me to look at my hand and not be able to see it clearly. It panics me to think of losing my close-up vision, whereas I've been nearsighted since age 12. So, bottom line: glad to have close-up vision back. And though I have no diagnosis (edema? delayed hypersensitivity response? optic neuritis? all of these are possibilities that have been considered and may still be), I have an inherent belief in my own health. I sent or delivered thank you notes to everyone who helped me out during this time, because I couldn't have gotten through without them.

What else can I talk about that's of no interest to anyone? Religion? Literature? Why, as Adam Corolla says, people who "hate cats" have to be the most insecure fucks EVER? My cool new booties? They're all on deck, but not for today. 

vision | loss

• FRIDAY - a week ago today, right about now, in fact, I was sitting watching TV and it seemed a little blurry. I blamed it on the TV itself and went to bed
• SATURDAY - Saturday morning I woke up and quickly noticed something was up with my vision. Usually when I put my glasses on, I see 20/20 (without them, I'm very near-sighted but not far-sighted). But now, it seemed, putting the glasses on did NOTHING. And my close-up vision was gone too, I found out when I tried to look in the mirror. I am, essentially, legally blind beyond a few inches.
• SATURDAY - I tried to call my eye doctor, but got a message that it was a holiday weekend and they'd be back on Tuesday (no emergency number); I found his home number and called it, but got voicemail
• SATURDAY - Called my neighbor, Betty, and asked her to take me to the emergency room. She arrived in 15 minutes (she lives two houses away). Though I was ushered into a room immediately after registration, seeing someone took a lot longer. In fact, all told we were there for 6 hours. Blood was drawn, urine was given, the doc came in and out, he couldn't get the eye pressure pen to work, and when all checked out normal, he called it "allergic reaction" and sent me home. He did speak to my eye doctor, who had called back, and suggested a "delayed hypersensitivity response" to my allergy skin test on Wednesday. Said he's seen things like this before and they often take days to resolve. Later in the evening, the ER doc called me later that day to suggest I see a specialist. I take Betty to lunch. I mean, she drives me; I pay, because she entertained me for 6 solid hours. She's the best. Eyes numbed: twice
• SUNDAY - Eye doc sets up appointment for me with ophthalmologist, who comes in specially to see me. Raymond drives me. Raymond makes me laugh by warning me not to sleep with the doctor, whose first name is Krishna (the god Krishna was apparently irresistible to women). Does various tests and talks very fast. Says it might be "narrow angles" or "narrow angle glaucoma", for which there is a laser procedure. Wants me to see a glaucoma specialist. Will set up appointment. I'm fairly sure he doesn't take my insurance, ditto a glaucoma specialist. Raymond takes me to get scripts and to a grocery store afterward. This is completely overwhelming, as I CANNOT SEE. My eyes are irritated and have a viscous, jello-y type stuff in them, but I'm also crying a lot. Eyes numbed: twice; glaucoma and lens tests. This appointment is the only one in which I get dizzy during this whole ordeal. That's a private triumph for me, one that required a lot of strength and many years to get to. Does not dilate me because if it is narrow angles, this could bring on sudden and complete blindness. Eye pressures are on the high side of normal but still normal (R, 19 / L, 22)
• SUNDAY - My neighbors come over and make me some mac and cheese. I cannot see to cook. Somehow she manages to make it taste bad. I've never encountered a worse cook. It's actually impressive how bad she is, which is why she thinks I'm the BEST COOK EVER (I am not). She suggests we go to Mass Eye and Ear the next morning when they get off of work.
• MONDAY - Leslie and John drive me to Mass Eye and Ear emergency at 7am. Again, we are ushered in immediately and don't wait all that long. A very kind nurse is the most compassionate person I will meet during this process. Doc is nice, yet abrupt and apparently in charge of answering the phone whenever it rings, so the exam is very broken up. Eye exams show extreme degradation, both up close and afar. I notice that docs are asking me to "try" to guess the letters. Are they trying to fudge the results? What's that about? Of course I'm trying as hard as I can. I do not want this, after all. He says that my angles are narrow, and brings in another doc. She confirms, and they say I should see the glaucoma specialists the next day. They'll determine if I need the laser procedure, and do it then. Eye pressures are down to 15/16. Eyes numbed: three times. Same pressure and lens tests. 
• TUESDAY - Andrea takes off of work early and comes to get to me to take me back to MEE. We encounter a very surly and completely cold receptionist, and though I say nothing, Andrea notes how ridiculous she is. Surly Bitch says that she doesn't think they take my insurance, that they've had "problems" with my insurance in the past, and to take a seat. Delightful. Soon I see the first doc, who is nice enough, but again, not compassionate. Same tests, and he dilates me for the first time. He's sure enough this isn't a risky thing, and they use a low-power dilation drop. Has me sit for 20 mins in the hallway, where docs bustle around, shifting from room to room, talking animatedly. This is just their day. But I am terrified. He wants another doc to see me, and brings her in. Same tests again. They confer and throw out numbers and terms I haven't heard. They tell me they see no evidence of glaucoma and my angles are NOT narrow. In fact, they see nothing wrong at all. Oh, and they don't take my insurance, but here are some doctors at Boston Medical I can follow up with "...if you want". As if it's an option. I can't function in this state, so yes, I want. I feel abandoned and like I'm starting over. Eyes numbed: three times, and dilated. Meanwhile, my allergy doc has been in touch and has asked if there's anything he can do. I ask if he can help. He quickly sets up an appointment for the next day with a neuro-ophthalmologist. Andrea drives me back home, and we stop by my eye doctor's office. He can see me in an hour and a half, so A and I have lunch. After lunch, he assesses my eyesight and finds that I can be corrected to 20/20 again with stronger lenses. This is good, as it indicates that the problem isn't likely a brain issue, and my eye structure seems fine. But my right eye is somewhat degraded from my last test in January, and my left eye is about twice as bad. He's never seen overnight degradation like this. He gives me contact lenses that correct to my vision at that moment, that will allow me to see clearly for the first time in 4 days, and to drive myself to my appointment the next day. Nice. But still there is no known medical reason for this vision loss.
• TUESDAY - return home to find that my car has been run into. It's either happened while it's been parked outside the house, or maybe sometime Friday in a parking lot. The front right is all crunched in. My heart is broken. In addition to this, too. I do some cleaning, as best I can. The dishes may only be clean-ish, but that's the best I can do.
• TUESDAY NIGHT - Vance comes over and brings various foods he's cooked. Now this is some good food. he's cooked up a million things in a few hours, all amazing. He plays music and is funny. What did I do to deserve this? Is there anything he can't do? Why does he have a girlfriend?
• WEDNESDAY - For the first time since Saturday, I can see clearly again, thanks to the lenses. I want to cry. I have been crying, almost non-stop. I can see the changing leaves. Without these lenses, my left is still terrible, but right eye seems to be improving. I take my car to the adjuster. I drive to my appointment. More strangeness. Nice enough intern, but the same tests show no eye structure or pressure problems, and now I'm getting that their collective solution may just be "get really strong glasses". But that doesn't explain anything and dammit, I want my old (bad) vision back. I want my close-up vision back. At least IT used to be good. They also do a field of vision test, the results of which make the tech go "wow", but apparently are normal. The main doctor guy comes in twice, briefly, and is cold and disconnected both times. The second time, I ask, "do I need an MRI?" and he says, "nothing indicates the need for that" and literally gets up and walks out the door. That's the last I see of him. No hello or goodbye. No compassion or explanation. Guess they leave that to the interns. And though young, she seems to know her shit. She's the one who suggests, theorizes that maybe this was some kind of allergic reaction or maybe a sugar spike that caused the tissues of my eyes to swell and maybe they will go back to normal. If not, I can be corrected with lenses. I'm apparently supposed to be happy with that. They tell me to come back in two weeks. I get a parking ticket. Allergy doc says to skip this week's shot, just to be safe. Eyes numbed: twice. Same lens and pressure tests.
• WEDNESDAY NIGHT - Brother in law Tom, in the area for work, comes by for the night. We go out to dinner and he's helpful and fun and Rocco loves him and he loves Rocco. He stays over and in the morning...
• THURSDAY - ...I take him to the Driftwood for breakfast and to see a few things. My eyes are definitely getting better. It's not just wishful thinking. Left eye even seems to be catching up. Tom takes me to do laundry and to the bank and other boring tasks (bless him). Later he leaves for Maine. I get my new drops and the goopy stuff seems to have cleared up. Make an appointment for Monday to see eye doctor again for vision re-test. I'm sure that the contacts are now too strong. I'm wearing my glasses and they're WORKING. I can read again (don't need glasses for this), and watch TV and work. I start catching up on things.
• FRIDAY - Eyes seem almost...normal. Cautiously optimistic squee! I kind of can't wait to see what my test will show on Monday. They're still feeling a little tired, and I feel somewhat traumatized. Still have no diagnosis, but if the end result is my vision back, I'll take it and run, of course. I'm simultaneously grateful and embarrassed by all the help I've gotten and that I've had to ASK for help, where a spouse would normally step in. But step up they did, and that means the world. I'm disappointed by the lack of compassion in the medical world I came across, especially in a crisis situation. I've experienced it before, but...it shouldn't be. It would have helped to have someone be able to say, "oh, this is x, and it will resolve itself within a-b days", but...here's where I am. I'll take it.

it gets better?

On given days, I have different tolerances to being single. I'd say on a scale of 1-10, my tolerance ranges from 1 (completely raw and despairing) to 5 (can maybe kinda pretend that maybe someday I'll meet someone and this nightmare will be over). It doesn't get much higher than that, since it's really foremost in my mind much of the time, and of course there are constant reminders that I DON'T have someone, since most everyone else does, at least at this age. Right now I'm definitely at the lowest level, the level where I wish I had someone to talk to, where I'm every moment about to cry, where noone wants to talk to you about this issue because they're afraid they'll "catch single" or they just can't be bothered (no kidding - try it, you'll see) so you're stuck feeling so lonely and so sad and like it really is a life sentence. Noone says "don't worry, you'll find someone" because noone thinks that. Either they know my age is a hurdle or they think my personality and looks are a hurdle (and if so, I'd rather not know, because it's bad enough to think that about MYSELF), but they sure aren't scratching their heads wondering why I'm single. Seems like everyone thinks it's just...about right. Me = single. That it makes me miserable doesn't matter much to anyone but me. I'd like to think that if anyone I loved hurt so much because they were missing a loving relationship, I'd feel that hurt with them and empathize.

I wrote something on Facebook about bullying, because I wanted to respond to the string of gay/lesbian suicides due to bullying, and the responses to THEM. And though I'm not a lesbian, though I am a stalwart supporter of gays and lesbians since very young, I was bullied. For years. Through high school. I don't want to go into details but to say that I did tell my parents, my friends, and my teachers. All dismissed it. From "work it out amongst yourselves" to "we'll look into it" (which led to nothing), noone stepped up, and so it continued. I stepped up. I always fought for myself, sometimes literally. And I was able to resolve some issues when I could convince some of these bullies that no, I'm not aloof or stuck up or whatever you've made up about me - I'm just SHY. I'm insecure and I'm shy. But redhead, curly hair, shy, hard to read, light skinned, artistic....this is a fucking DEADLY combination. NO kid should go through this. And it is up to every student, parent, teacher and admin to STOP THE BULLIES. Not just to comfort and support the bullied, but to STOP THE BULLIES.

Why does this matter now, so many years on? Because the scars are still there. This bullying was so thorough, and I felt so abandoned by everyone, and it went on for so long, that it really ripped my self-esteem, such as it was, apart. I never got it back. Ever. I feel like my life arrested then, was stolen and frozen then, by those bullies. I wish they didn't have that kind of power, but I think the damage they did is beyond rationalizing. I can tell myself it's all behind me (and it is, and I do), but it's a cell-deep kind of damage they did, and I can only point to my current life as proof that it worked. Can I get back a normal, happy adult life? I'm not sure. I sure as hell have tried, but I've failed over and over. I can't even fake it. Right now I'm canceling plans and things I was supposed to do (teaching in NC in Nov) because I just don't have the energy or interest in much of anything. It feels like the end. I've tried therapists and they've fallen short because I've had to settle for therapists that...weren't so great. I've taxed friends, and noone wants to talk to me anymore so I keep it light. Same with family. And as DFW says, this is NOT what I want. There's nothing I'd rather be doing than telling you about all the fantastic things I have going on, or my plans or my faaaaabulous boyfriend. I'd love that. I would.

wisdom

"Marriage is about: are you able to withstand the daily grind with this person? Do you like them? Are they funny to you? Do they fight fair, or do they get mean? When one of you has stomach flu in a hotel room, can you deal with it? Are you a good team? Do you find them interesting? Are you willing to put in the work to keep your relationship evolving after the hormonal fires burn off?"

-an askmetafilter.com responder

I just thought this was beautiful.

more DFW

On depression:

"It's like worse than anything - I don't know if you've had any experience with this. It's worse than any kind of physical injury, or any kind of--it may be what in the old days was called a spiritual crisis or whatever. It's just as though the entire, every axiom of your life turned out to be false, and there was actually nothing, and you were nothing, and was all a delusion. And that you were better than everyone else because you saw that it was a delusion, and yet you were worse because you couldn't function. And it just, it was just horrible."

I get confused really easily too

"...you give me 24 hours? If we'd done this interview through the mail? I could be really really really smart. I'm not all that fast. And I'm really self-conscious. And I get confused really easily. When I'm in a room by myself alone, and have enough time, I can be really really smart. And people are different that way. You know what I mean? I may not - I don't think I'm quite as smart, one-on-one, with people, when I'm self-conscious, and I'm really really confused."

- David Foster Wallace, from although of course you end up becoming yourself