:: Conjoined Cognition ::

:: Friday, January 24, 2003 ::

Hello Drella!

It seems like DAYS since I last blogged here! Well, so it has been a while!! I should be able to blog more often soon- I hope by tonight! And certainly after Monday, when the Welsh Boyfriend returns to work after his holiday.

YOU are the best, Drella Sister!

I have to say that not drinking isn't bad at all, once you get used to it. It hasn't been very long for me- only a few weeks. Sometimes I think, it's not me who has to do this, it's the Welshman, so I'm off for a glass of wine, but of course I haven't done it. The Doc also told him to put down Caffeine: no coffee, no chocolate, no pop (caffeinated pop).This one is his own burden to bear! I'll not drink the alcohol, but I must have my coffee! And my chocolate!!!!! (Spoiled Americans!)

Now I have a question for you, Drella: how do you feel about putting your thoughts up on the web openly? I know that you're much more open about this stuff than I am, and obviously you don't feel badly about writing what you think on the blog- but isn't it weird? How do you handle it? Do you give you this addy to your friends? Co-workers? Others? I haven't given out mine to anyone, and have been keeping more intimate thoughts in my handwritten journal. Of course, I only open the handwritten journal once every 3-6 months. I don't know.

I'm out for now!


:: jennetic 3:56 PM [+] ::
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hey, i forgot to mention how much i enjoyed your Jamies story. ha ha ha!! the engineer is my favorite! sounds exactly like me!

but i'm trying, trying to be better...trying match the standard put in front of me by Wire, even though he does occasionally indulge. i can't keep doing this to myself, can't keep waking up wondering what happened the night before, terrified that i did something terrible or obnoxious or dangerous or embarrassing...there's nothing like that feeling when you're hungover but in a good way, but i think i can let that go. i can't keep fucking up, not if i want to sort my life out and maybe not always be a poor bastard, never having enough money for anything...well of course "poor" is relative. but still. yeah, and i'm the first to admit that my priorities are skewed but who gives one? yeah, i'll eat raman and rice with salt and pepper for two weeks so i can have a Manics cd, so fuckin' what?

wow, only knitty is so cool that she'd post a pic of The Wire for me on his birthday. imagine having some one you love always indulge you when it came to your interests and/or obsessions? that's my knitty sister. she's the best. THEE BEST EVER.

you hear that, O Knitty One? you are the best EVER.

on another note, how is the Man after his hospital stuff? i hope he's well. argh, i ought to get offline in case you are trying to call me and talk to me about it. hopefully, more tomorrow. i know this is a crappy one. fuck it. i'm out.

::listening status:: Manic Street Preachers:: "This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours":: 'Nobody Loved You' ::
:: Mme. M 8:17 PM [+] ::
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One day very soon, sister, I will have unlimited internet access at the house again, and all will be well. At that time, Knitty will become a blogging fool! I will learn to post pics! I will learn to create nifty interesting blog templates! Yes! Yes, it will happen, I swear it!

Until then, I will be left to write quick blogs. Ugh.

Here's one for you, sister: Happy birthday to The Wire!

Anything is open to discussion here! You might start a rush on the market for Effexor with descriptions like that! Woo hoo! Maybe it's a matter of quality over quantity?


:: jennetic 3:01 PM [+] ::
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so anyway. i have been on the net ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL day and i can't find another link to the pic of The Wire that i love so much so now i'm ruminating on another that is as good (which doesn't exsist but eventually i'll settle on one that is close) that i can link to.

my fucking back is killing me. i took a 10 minute break for some mechanical lurv (look, i was gazing at The Wire for over an hour straight; something was bound to react...) which made me think about the way this drug affects The Big O.

yes, orgasm, if reached, is really pretty strange on effexor. like, you feel it but it feels far away, but then after, you feel it for a long time, like 20 minutes. you have that sort of "i just came" feeling and you have to be careful because you're still sensitive "down there".

is this appropriate for our blog? i hope so...

anywho, on effexor i've gone from mechanically lurving myself at least once a day to maybe....twice a week. Weird. with a big huge W.

i want to write more on this however i've been on here for far too long and i have to rest my back. i hope you call tonight!

more soon.

::watching status:: The Manic Street Preachers, "UK Television Compilation", 'Little Baby Nothing'::
:: Mme. M 4:47 PM [+] ::
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o boy. heheheh. yeah, The Roomie filled me in and, as happens, the more information she provided, the more i remember. first order of business--it's a damn good thing that The Limey didn't wake up in my bed, that's certain. why, you ask? well, 1., he's very nearly banned from dee's--one of the bartenders absolutely refuses to serve him and won't give anyone a beer that's intended for him. he "doesn't remember" what he did, but has apologized not once but TWICE and she won't accept it. 2., he was hitting on some other woman last night after i'd bought him and his (really fucking hot) irish roommate 3 rounds. ha ha, you should've seen The Roomie in action (mine, not his. from here on, his will be referred to as The Mick)!
she walked over, sat herself down, and said to him in front of his new target, "do have no respect at all for the woman you totally spent two weekends with?!"

Target #2's jaw hit the floor. FOILED! The bastard. Then he was attempting to explain himself but The Roomie insists he was making no sense. Then I took over, which was either really fucking sad or really fucking funny, seeing as we were both blasted and probably incoherent-- i don't remember this part and i doubt he does either.

we left shortly after and The Roomie informs me that as we were walking out the door, The Limey was DANCING up and down the length of dee's to whatever was on the jukebox and everyone in the place (and it was packed by then) was making fun of him. poor thing.

here's the funny thing--I'm not pissed, not hurt, not upset at all. I feel strangely exonerated. It's over. Now I can get back to business, i.e. obsessing properly over "my boys".

hmmmm. also worth noting--on the way home The Roomie and The Roomie's best mate, L., had the BRILLIANT idea to make doughnuts in the parking lot at the bottom of the hill on which we live. the kind you make in the car, not the kind you buy at the bakery. Making doughnuts. After dee's. In the snow. We rock.

I was passed out in the front seat but at one point thought we'd wrecked and without a word, I woke from my Jamies-Induced Coma (JIC) and leapt out and began "to push", which was apparently hilarious BUT I get mad applause/Respect for being the roommate least likely to complain about having to push. in the snow. After dee's. ha.

also--in a final act of revenge (as if sabotaging his attempt to get laid wasn't enough! ) I also stole The Limey's cigarettes. Nice one! except that, oddly, i feel badly about that part, and that part only. well, there were only 2. but he smokes what i smoke, the cheapest most generic there are here..."Waves". As does The Mick. Jesus (jaysus!). Jesus with a crutch, The Mick is not only blazingly hot but really nice as well. But you know. *points to hips* nothing going on down there at all. i might was well be dead from the hips down, dig? i'm into it. i like it this way. sex is--i'm so driven by it, controlled by it, that it's a relief to not feel any desire for it. which makes me wonder...try this one on for size.

i'm watching The Tape. watching The Wire. again. explain please: i have no desire for sex. watching The Wire excites me, but not "down there". my heart still races. i can't stop looking. i can't stop thinking about the sharpness of his jaw or the way his eyes burn in spite of the blueness. The Smile makes me smile hugely. the hips make me clench my knees. is this a learned reaction? this, to me, clearly points out that for me sex is more cerebral, more a thinking thing than a physical thing, as is stated on The Rant. if he doesn't make my pussy wet, why do i want him? i know that's pretty fucking gauche, but there it is.

i'm going to do some other stuff, linking, searching, etc, so there is more on the way. just wanted to put this up cuz i'm sure you're checking, Knitty One. love you. more soon. response requested...

:: Mme. M 2:22 PM [+] ::
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The Hangover

UGH. I feel for you, Drella. Jamesons: the Memory Eraser. I think "Shame" must be part of the chemical composition- I've never had Jamie's without some laspe of memory, and a heavy feeling of guilt/shame the following day.

The last time I had Jamie's was with the Engineer and the Man. It had been a night of moderate drinking, a little heavy for a worknight, but not too bad...until the final shot of Jamie's. The Man and I agreed to give the Engineer a ride home, as he lives maybe 3 blocks away from us. I remember us all climbing into the car...and I remember being at home and brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed. I don't recall dropping off the Engineer.

The next day at work, I tried to causally make sure that we did, in fact, drop off the Engineer at his home. We were both a little haggard, and we were both talking around the subject: this is because none of us remember how, exactly, the Engineer got home. We assume that he was dropped off properly, and not at our house, that he didn't come in for another drink, that we didn't drop him off at the 7-11 or just in the middle of Charles Village. The Engineer woke up on the floor in his apartment in his clothes, and just hoped for the best.

That is the power of Jamies.

I am most curious to hear about the Limey! Do tell, when you get the chance. Rehydrate. Recover. then write, when you can.
:: jennetic 11:18 AM [+] ::
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fuck. i am very ashamedly hungover. the kind of hungover where you wake up an hour late for work. fuck. FUCK. jamesons. at dee's. with The Limey. barely remember leaving. i drink very irresponsibly. i remember one moment of clarity-- no more, you've had enough--then this waitress came over with free shots of fruity vodka. the end of me, really. i have to go back up to bed. tired. told work i have the flu. no Limey in my bed--a good thing, right? just flesh and skin and shit and snot and piss and bone, right? i thought as much. trying to get back into The Mode so that i don't want him. more later. i swear it.

:: Mme. M 9:55 AM [+] ::
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oooooh. something bad is happening. It's in my head, belly, achey everywhere. This calls for a hasty retreat home, under covers with a just-rented chick flick and lots of comfort knitting. I wish drella sister were nearby, cuz she's a kick ass nurse. Not to mention she makes the very best chicken and rice soup in the Known Universe.
Enjoy the snow. I'm going home, and going to bed!!!
:: jennetic 5:02 PM [+] ::
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Yes, this is why I made my appeal not to God, not to my very confused self, not to any other Authority in Heaven or Earth: it went to Drella Sister. Heh. How fortunate can a human get? There is Drella, and there is the Man, and life is fucking wonderful.
:: jennetic 10:30 AM [+] ::
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For all the voyuers out there who are reading this blog, Knitty here is what we call a Capricorn. reading between the lines, you'll find that this can mean several things, among which lie the terms Sociopath and Control Freak. don't get me wrong--i love my knitty sister above and beyond every/anything else in the universe, however i try my hardest not to throw a wrench into the system where she's concerned, and i try to let her take the reins when it's a matter of one of us doing so.

Knitty Sister fears commitment because she has always been tremendously independant.she especially fears it with The Man as here, finally, is a man who not only drives her wild carnally, but also cannot be bullied, pushed around or tricked into doing what she wants him to. in short, Knitty Sister has met her match, and she's not sure if she should succumb to her blossoming urges to nest with him on a more permanent basis.

as a Cancerian, i am driven by emotion and physical urges and therefore wind up in trouble a lot, whether this be with Man, Substances that aren't legal, or The Drink. i would allow that Man is my most obvious weakness unlike Knitty Sister who seems, oftentimes, to possess no weaknesses. drella is known for diving without looking. this can have some pretty obvious consequences. Knitty, on the other hand, never jumps until she's sure and right now she isn't 100% sure and it's terrifying her that she's run out of time and has to jump NOW.

look here Knitty, *points to self*, i'm still in one piece, yeah? been through some SHIT, but i'm still here, not irreparably scarred (at least emotionally speaking, har fucking har). you wanna talk mistakes??? just review that past two years of my life. The junky apt, the loony bin, florida...all on account of The Prick.

and yet.

i'm still here, *pounds chest proudly* and i'm not only surviving, but i'm getting my shit together, yeah? no need to panic. this is a one year lease, not a contract you need to sign in blood. you're renting a house, not selling your soul. take some deep breaths. you're going away for a day or two, a wee vacation. enjoy it. no more panicking, alright? you're going to do just fine. there are worse people you could be moving in with, you know. you know him. you love him. in fact, i think you might well adore him. so suck it up. you're going to be fine. i promise.

i have to go to work. back to the grind. ha. it's not so bad. one more day til payday, thank fuck. more tonight, i hope.

listening status: Manic Street Preachers:: "Everything Must Go" ::'The Girl Who Wanted To Be God' ::
:: Mme. M 6:37 AM [+] ::
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Hey drella, I went on at length about this on my blog; read here and tell me what you think, yes?
:: jennetic 7:02 PM [+] ::
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Drella sister, explain to me why it is that, upon gettting the fabtab news that we got the lovely place in Butchers Hill, my head seemed to suddenly split apart in a throbbing, heavy ache, and I want to burst into tears. This should be a relief of stress, right? Then why the fucking strain in the back of the neck?

How can I feel so badly about this? I'm being rhetorical, of course: obviously a part of me is screaming NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

I think I am about to completely freak out. What am I doing? AHHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAAHHHH! He is a good guy; he's adorable, I am very pleased to be with him, especially when we get lots of hang time.

Well, for one, I realized that I'm about to commit myself to another year of Baltimore- even though I'd already agreed to in within myself, so that I could finish school and a few projects at work that are really spectacular. So that shouldn't be the issue. What is the issue? I totally love the Man, so that's not the issue. I don't want to be married, so that's not the issue.

You know me better than any other on the planet: tell me, sister, WHAT IS MY ISSUE? Help!!!!
:: jennetic 6:16 PM [+] ::
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Hello sister,

1. The Limey may suck, but you rock on
2. I am time limited re: blogging tonight. I will blog like a b!tch tomorrow night, though- I promise.
3. I forgot to send out a card for Mums today. I think I will send it Fed Ex tomorrow. Dang!!!!

Why hate everything you do? Love it that you're Contradictory! You're a Contrary MF and so fucking what! HA!
You, my dearie, gets to experience it ALL. Most mortals spend a fuck lot of time and effort living the scrawniest, safest, most fetal-curled position, sanitary white stark Picture Perfect "I Followed All the Rules and All I got Was A Boring Empty Disappointing Life" life model.

To hell with that. Just because *at this time* you chose to drink it up, and feel things from the outside to deal with the inside, this doesn't mean that your design for life won't
change. In fact, being the Intelligent if Ticked Goddess of Wrath that you are, the design for the Best lived life would have to include as much of everything as possible.

I don't want to glorify what you do; obviously, the compulsion or compellingness of burning/cutting isn't something that the majority of people feel; it's got to be telling you something, and the message ain't one of love and peace and well-being.

But, until we can be okay with the crap that we pull on ourselves, we keep doing it. That's true for anything: drinking, smoking, relationships, jobs, etc. At some point, maybe, you'll feel like this is no longer necessary, no longer desirable. The desires for other things will pull you away from the current desire. Thats how things go.
Berating oneself only fuels the fire, keeps the cycle revolving, keeps the pressure taunt, tight.

More later. Not too much later, I hope. What do you think: To the Self, is self-harm a way of making oneself tolerable, or of keeping oneself from ever being tolerable?


:: jennetic 5:48 PM [+] ::
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Can’t seem to shut my finger-yap today. Finger-yap. Ha ha ha. I’m a bloggin’ fool. The bastard steelers lost and now everyone at work is going to be bitches on Monday. Cheers. Bastards. Ruin my workweek for me…selfish, I know. Sorry about your loss there, knitty. I tried. Maybe I should have rooted against them—this has worked before. Leave it to me to be so arrogant as to assume that my desire for them to win/lose has any effect on the outcome whatsoever.

I’m in a weird mood. It’s nearly 10 pm and The Limey hasn’t phoned and I feel…strange about it, concocting excuses (I know he was watching the game, probably at Piper’s, most likely sauced off his ass (arse), justifying why this is for the best…besides. I got my “friend” today. Some friend. Frankly, my pussy fucking hurts. I hate telling some one you’ve just begun sleeping with that it’s a bit mucky “down there” and that there will be no intercourse, not over my dead body, mister.

dammit. Taco meat smells good. Not enough for us both to have more. Hate.

maybe he’ll phone tomorrow. Maybe I fucking SUCK.

what the hell is wrong with me? What’s my deal? Why am I perpetually torn and contradicting everything I do and say? And why the fuck am I drinking again? Boredom? Nothing so simple as that, I’m sure.

it’s a Richey day today. Had to watch The Tape. Most of it. Had to look at him. Hear him. Part of The Limey’s appeal is his very Limey-ness, that he knows about Richey, knows the history even though he doesn’t particularly care…been looking at the picture of The Wire that makes my heart pound. (yeah, for some reason i can't get this link to work, but i'm hoping i can work it out soon.) sometimes, I wonder. About everything.

It’s hard going, hitting the bottle two nights in a row. However, I’m determined. to be honest, this vodka is cheap and tastes like shit the second night in a row. Probably it tasted like shit last night too, but I can’t remember. I very clearly remember talking to you twice but I don’t remember hanging up the second time. I remember you asking if I had burned. I remember ranting about suicidal thoughts. I remember looking at The Book a lot. I remember thinking, yes, this was the thing, this was the right idea… I don’t know what compells me to be self destructive, but I do know that its difficult to resist it, impossible at times. There’s no need to be drinking again, except that I didn’t learn my lesson last night and I’ve nothing better to do. I’m alone and its Saturday and there’s vodka so…I think I’ll go upstairs and smoke and listen to some music and try to behave. Wish you’d call. Should get offline in case you’re trying….i’m out.
:: Mme. M 11:39 PM [+] ::
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"REPEAT after me/fuck queen and country..."

yeah and you KNOW i wanted to put the ENTIRE lyric there for EVERYONE to read but...i'll save it for my Rant page. see, you ought to pop in the generation terrorists stuff i sent you and rock out to "repeat". it might make you feel better. now, what is that thing that "they" say about repetition being the best learning tool? well it hasn't worked for me, obviously. maybe you're learning something if you're able to identify the problem. but then, i KNOW what my "problem" is and that doesn't stop me from doing stupid things. well. take today, for instance. it's friday. i made it through another week without burning, without calling off, without being late or even making any dumb mistakes at work. i went to the shrink and the therapist, bought my meds and have been taking them--shit! i have to take my meds! hold on...-- and really, i feel as if i'm being pretty fucking proactive. i haven't burned in over 4 weeks. that alone is a good thing, isn't it? isn't it?

so. what do i decide today at work? well, firstly, everyone was ranting about going to "happy hour" which i am far too broke to do, and besides, i've noticed a disturbing trend in my drinking behaviors very recently--i LIKE to drink alone. more on that in a minute.

anyway. everyone's pressuring me to go out, i have 10$ in my pocket and frankly, i fucking hate sports bars. $10'll buy you a fucking beer and A wing. ONE wing. with NO SAUCE.

needless to say i declined. instead i got the idea into my head that what i really wanted to do is to buy a bottle of vodka and sit home and drink it alone, while writing, blogging, and listening to the manics.

never mind the fact that i KNOW what's going to happen when i'm wasted and suddenly it's not fun anymore, it's not a fucking joke anymore, it's fucking reality that i prefer to get wazzed out of my brains by myself because i can't stand being around more than one person at a time anymore.

and of course, drinking alone, thinking alone, leads to the burning. or the cutting. or both.

i KNOW this. I KNOW IT. so what's my excuse? things are going too well, i need to fuck up now? purged at work today, too. twice. out of spite.

yeah, it's a Holy Bible week alright (o richey...you leave me breathing like the drowning man...).

here i sit with a cheap bottle of vodka and a pack of smokes and somehow i feel vindicated that i'm doing WHAT I WANT TO DO, not what anyone else wants me to do. both of us, stuck in repetition...this--drinking alone--being a behavior i learned a year ago, shut up in that room while that prick went out and left me home to wallow and i stewed in vodka and gin and wine and beer--a winter of discontent? yes, and a very fucking drunk, ugly, bloody one at that. and what did i learn? that i can drink myself into a certain almost-numbness. that physical pain dissolves emotional torment. that some one by the name of richey james exists/ed, whom most likely i would have gotten along with had i met him.

i'm getting drunk. and i like it. i like it right now, but give me another hour. another two. give me that and a nail and a candle and a match. give me 30 seconds and i'll give you some scars that will never go away, scars which i'll pick at and love in a nearly erotic fashion.

i know why we do things to hurt ourselves. the issue is how can we kill the compulsion?

The Man drives you to act against your nature, which in itself is purely natural, so stop hating yourself over it.

if only i could take my own advice...

i pray to god to help me in my quest to beat nature, but god IS nature, so i will always always fail. please put up the dying lamb bit, and how we're all such a disappointment. i believe in that one line more than anything else in the world, right now.

lately, more than ever, i am beginning to view richey as an equal. not as a god.

::i'm out::

::listening status:: Manic Street Preachers, "The Holy Bible", 'Of Walking Abortion'.
:: Mme. M 4:15 PM [+] ::
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Literature is Not Dead:
A chef of life, adventure, and culinary arts: Anthony Bourdain:

"A particulary plump beast was grabbed by the scruff of the neck...I watched queasily as the intended victim wa brusquely pointed toward Mecca. The man with the knife leaned over and without ceremony quickly cut the sheep's throat.

"It was a deep, fast, and efficient movement. Were I, for one of many good reasons, condemned to die in the same fashion, I doubt I could have found a more capable executioner. The animal fell on its side, blood gurgling into the alley. There had been no cries of pain. I could readily see the animal's open windpipe; the head appeared to have been damned near cut off. But it continued to breathe, to twitch. While the executioner chatted with his cohorts, he held his victim down with a foot on its head.

"I watched the poor sheep's eyes- a look I'd see again and again in the dying- as the animal registered its imminent death, that terrible unforgettable second when, either from exhaustion or disgust, it seemed to decide finally to give up and die. It was a haunting look, a look that says, You were- all of you- a terrible disappointment. The eyes closed slowly, as if the animal were going to sleep, almost willfully."
-from "A Cook's Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisines," page 94.

:: jennetic 9:15 PM [+] ::
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Okay, Sister! I think we are up and running. I hope the invite on your side goes through- it will solve the sign in and signature issues.

We'll learn more and build up the site.

I think we should open this as a Free discussion; however, I'd like to keep it pretty much Nameless, as far as using Real Time/real world names. I've called my man, rather unimaginatively, The Man, but we'll have to come up with a better term than that. So we'll come up with a few alia (pl?) and open it up to any/everything. heh. Should we link to our personal blogs/sites?

It's a Holy Bible week? Maybe it's the meds, maybe it's the Brit, maybe both...the sleep thing sounds like it's a medication issue. Sleep- our old housemate called it a cancer, remember? I envy the people who don't seem to need much of it, who can operate at high levels with only 3-4 hours...my brain and body devour 7-8 hours at a crack, or else performance deteriorates. Isn't it funny- I sleep too much and wish to be rid of the need, which is the space you usually occupy... In one realm, at least, we've switched places...

The Reoccuring Theme in my life this week is The Skipping Record. This describes Everything: Unintended Repeat- THUNK- Repeat-THUNK...
Conversation: Repeated *THUNK* Repeated Again
Decisions: Repeated....
Conversations...see above
Decisions....see above

..so it's time to try something new.

Meanwhile, you seem to be in transition. Try to hold off on the burning...is it different this time around? Is the foggy, kinda fuzzyness staying with you, even during your waking hours? Describe!


:: jennetic 9:31 AM [+] ::
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