21 July

Today I Love: Overcast days and reading. Why? No heat so I can comprehend what I'm reading.
Today I Hate: Today. Why? Birthdays.

  I will go into my room where I am surrounded by the things I love. Then I will curl up in my blankets with a stack of books (though sadly lacking tea as my stomach is giving me pains today), maybe get a pizza and then proceed to ignore the world and all who inhabit it and That
Will be my present to myself.

Goodbye.

Soomething I Need to Get Out

Today I Hate: Pain. Why? Fuck off.
Today I Love: Air conditioning. Why? Not hot.

  Yesterday is a day I will write about another day but today is a day I will write about right now.

  I awoke to a Belgian draft horse leaping straight at me. Not a real one, mind you, but the large poster of one I have hanging above my bed. A corner of it had come loose and I am now thoroughly convinced that my posters are in cahoots with any airflow in my room and together they are trying to drive me insane.

  I will not talk about the next couple of hours as it pertains to yesterday which I still do not want to write about today. Instead I will skip ahead to my early morning constitutional. It started out fine but about three minutes into it my bowels--having refused to empty themselves when I politely asked them to this morning--decided that my walk was the ideal time to do so. This isn't at all unusual; because of the stress I am under constantly when I do something that relaxes me a little--such as going for a walk--it relieves enough tension for my digestive system to remember what it is it was supposed to have been doing this entire time. However, on this particular morning since I didn't actually crap myself I continued walking. I had not been able to leave the house at all the day before and I was going to take advantage of this cool early morning. This walk Meant Something To Me, goddammit, and I was going to Make It Count.

  About halfway through my walk after having traversed two mildly steep hills my bowels decided they were very angry with me for not having listened to them earlier. Too late too do anything practical about it (unless you count shitting in a rich neighbor's yard to be practical) I ignored them again. If my bowels wanted to hold it all in for days then they could surely stand to do so a bit longer. I wouldn't normally be so awful to my body but having been cooped up and in pain nothing was going to stop me from getting out. I was Committed.

  I kept walking. About this time my hemorrhoids (one of the many benefits of stress and the on-off constipation and diarrhea it causes) got extremely disgruntled and complained:
"What? Really? You're going to make us deal with this shit?"
I promptly told them to fuck off, deal with the hand they've been dealt and pushed onward. Regardless of the pain I was causing myself I had Invested Too Much in this walk and no way was I going to Give Up On It Now.

  I did, thankfully, make it back to my house without shitting myself and so reveled in the relief of being able to crap, something I find most people take very much for granted.

  After all, It's The Little Things That Count.
  (Right?)

  That said, I must now say that denying my bowel movements in the very same way/mindset most people use to justify their abusive and self-destructive relationships is most definitely not healthy.

  My asshole deserves better than that.

The Sound in the Ceiling

This was supposed to be yesterday's post but I wasn't able to get on so here it is today.

  When I was little I loved the movie Mouse Hunt. I enjoyed watching the little critter outsmart those two buttheads but after last night I've gotta say I feel their pain.
  Last evening I was reading in my room when I heard this:
  Skirtcha-skirtcha-skir
  It sounded to me like pebbles or pine cones rolling down the roof but was coming from directly above me not from outside.
  Great, I thought. A mouse.
  (In all likelihood it was probably a rat but for the sake of the "Mouse Hunt" reference I've already made I will continue to refer to him or her as a mouse.) I didn't worry about it too much since animals don't stay in the house long (lucky them) and figured I was exhausted enough to go to bed sound or no sound.
  I was wrong.
  Skirtcha-skirtcha-skirtcha
  Skirtcha-skirtcha-skir
  Whatever, I thought. I'll be asleep soon.
  I was not and the next thing I knew I was standing up and slapping on my light. Naked, tired, and a little bit wobbly from my medication kicking in I marched to the corner of my room and snatched up my cane. I returned to my bed, stood up on it, flipped the cane and proceeded to beat the shit out of the ceiling.
  This seemed to work some. The sounded quieted and there were greater intervals in between it stopping and starting again. I appreciated this but it was still Fucking Annoying so I did what I should have done in the first place: I snatched my headphones from their perch, slammed them on my head, and blasted music over the unrelenting sound until I finally dropped off.

                             * * *
 
The next morning found me lying in bed listening once more to that blasted noise.
  Skirtcha-skirtcha
  Skirtcha-skirtcha-skuh
  By this point I had resigned myself to a life with a noisy all night neighbor and was trying to bring my mind around to some sort of zen-like state but wasn't having much luck.
  I sighed, flopping over onto my back and as I did so I heard the noise again at the exact moment I saw one of my posters move slightly.
  I lie there staring up at the wall.
  Skirtcha-skirtcha, my poster fluttered.
  I blinked.
  Skirtcha-skuh, it fluttered again.
  I blinked again.
  I sat up, tipped my fan down, and waited expectantly.
  .............................
  No noise.
  Turns out my "mouse" was actually the breeze from my fan getting behind my posters and loosening them causing them to flutter against the wall and make the scrabbling noise. The slopped angle of my wall tricked me into thinking the sound was coming from the attic.
I flopped back in bed and listened to the blessed silence. I smiled feeling--to my surprise--not a trace of the embarrassment I probably should have been feeling. I think that's because there is so little in my life I have control over that being able to finally solve a problem regardless of how menial brought me more relief than you can possibly know and that, after the past few miserable days, felt fucking good.

-Erin, Mouse Hunter

Much Ado About Nothing

Today I Hate: Doing nothing. Why? Nothing gets done.
Today I Love: Doing nothing. Why? Nothing gets done.

  Sometimes nothing is exactly what you need to be doing.
Don't disturb me because I will be very busy for the rest of the day.

Today I Hate: Everything. Why? I'm in an exceptionally bad mood. And a lot of pain.
Today I Love: Hating. Why: I'm in an exceptionally bad mood. And I can create things from my hate.

  Sometimes the answers to life's problems are the simplest ones. Unless it's my life and I'm working on my comic. I should never ever, ever, EVER think when starting a new panel "Oh, this will be an easy one." Not unless I want to spend the next two hours--literally--pulling my hair out and aimlessly scribbling angry pictures of comic-me.

.............

  There was something I was going to write about but I am using a library computer right now and the mouse and keys are so appallingly greasy--at least I hope it's grease--that my hands keep sliding off them. This makes it a tiny little bit difficult to type and think anything other than "Oh, god, where is the nearest sink I can wash my hands in?"

  So that's it for today then. Unless I want to spend the next 52:36 I have remaining talking about the horrifying nausea that has got me on the verge of puking or the sore throat that has again popped up out of nowhere.

  Which I don't. 

 (End Session)

On Menstruation and Clouds

Today I Hate: My Period. Why: Why not?
Today I Love: Clouds. Why: They cover up the stark glaring nudity of the sun causing it to be ten degrees cooler than was originally predicted. God bless the clouds.

  Hello everyone! Haven't been on anything internet-wise (except to look at an axe to make sure I was drawing it correctly for my comic) recently on account of life. The day after I wrote my last post that razor blade pain in my bladder got even worse. Imagine one getting stuck horizontal in your urethra and still having to push it out. Then, I think the day after (how many days has it been...?), I decided that doing a two hour butt-whooping ballet workout would be a fantastic idea (at the time my period was still dragging it's ass along) which actually did turn out to be quite a good idea indeed and ended that day by making a pasta dish--the first thing I've been able to make from scratch other than stir fry in I-don't-know-how-long. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Accomplishments.

  Yesterday I walked, moved, and functioned exactly like a marionette held by a beginner due to my muscles rebelling against my decision to workout the day before. After spilling my cup of water on myself multiple times, failing at getting through doorways every time, and having to rest my forehead on my sister's knee at one point in order to push myself up from a chair I decided to dedicate the rest of my day to moving as little as possible which worked out splendidly since my period finally decided to start. Less bladder pain the last couple days though so hopefully that was just PMS fucking with me like it does.

  Today there are clouds, beautiful, blessed clouds all over the sky as there were yesterday morning/afternoon and dear god it is lovely. Still working on comic and I have to say that Roald Dahl's writing advice to stop exactly when you know what to do next is, I think, the best advice I've come across when it comes to making anything. I cannot wait to get back to it even if I don't know what to do with that one part because I do know what to do with this other part here.

  Now I must go. I see a walk to the library in the near future and then the vision gets sort of cluttered with much cramping and bleeding and cursing to god. Hm. Wonder what that's all about.

  Tune in some other day for the next installment in my painfully exciting life and more painfully bad puns!

!!!!

-Erin

Today I Hate: My Urinary System. Why? Keep reading.
Today I Love: Stickers. Why? The cover of my "Various Writings" journal is now quite vibrant. :)

   I have interstitial cystitis (IC). If you want the generalized medical definition then you can go right on ahead and get a book from the library or open another web browser and research it yourself. I am going to write about what it feels like for me.

   Even though tests always come back normal it feels always like I am having a really bad bladder infection, like I have a bladder full of razor blades that I have to then force out of my urethra every twenty minutes on account of not being able to hold my piss. Leaking is a thing that will happen and often when I do pee only a little tiny amount comes out even though it feels like a full bladder. Sometimes just tensing my muscles will cause my urethra to start spasming uncontrollably which feels like electrical shocks all up through my bladder. This will sound weird but it can also feel sort of like it's clogged and I will usually get a feeling like constipation when I try to pee but cannot. Often it feels like pissing acid and the burning WILL NOT go away and nothing will help to relieve it.
   This all makes it somewhat difficult to have/make friends. I don't like to scare people off before I've even gotten to know them by telling them about my "private" medical problems but I stopped caring about that when people assumed I was running to the bathroom every twenty minutes or so because I was puking up my food. I also like to explain so whoever they are can understand why it is I need constant access to a bathroom or why it is I suddenly double up in pain. Also, leaking in someone's car is just not an experience anyone wants to have ever.
   Today it is especially bad, probably because I am going to start my period and the inflammation gets much worse with PMS. I know this is not the worst thing in the world but I don't care, because I have spent most of yesterday and today curled up in pain and that is fucking miserable. I am writing about it today because it is especially bad right now and I am having trouble thinking of anything else.

   This is Erin, signing off to go to the bathroom.

Back to work,

Back to work,

On the

Comic

Comic

Comic.

On Bath Time & Companionship

    Dunking stuffed animals into tubs of water is generally something I avoid doing but that is exactly what I found myself doing today.
    As I squatted beside the tub full of soapy water I felt the beginnings of a spine-ache setting in and my knees protesting my partial-squatting position. I was doing this because my—arguably—green stuffed rabbit friend, Bunny, was in desperate need of a bath. I stared down at him and he gazed earnestly back up at me through the suds. His eyes and once whiskered nose were the only parts of him visible and the more I looked at him the more pathetic he appeared. Soaking wet he looked a sorry mess, the wet fur around his eyes giving him a pleading expression that began to niggle at me. Rubbing my back I sighed.

    "We're getting too old for this."

    Being in my twenties people often wonder why it is I am never seen without my stuffed rabbit friend and when asked I usually answer. I’m aware that not many people above the age of four keep the company of stuffed critters in public and bathing him is a day long feat that takes a lot out of both of us. I sat there studying his aging body and couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t be kinder to begin thinking about retiring him.

    I picked up his ear and carefully began to scrub the dirt from it before moving onto the rest of him, taking note of and obsessing over the worn parts that have become more prominent after almost seven years of near constant togetherness. When finished with that I slid my hands beneath him supporting his head like a newborn’s and lifted his sopping wet now eight pound self out so I could refill the tub to rinse him. As I did this his bright eyes caught mine and I realized I couldn’t be more wrong. Bunny may be stuffed but he is one of my greatest friends and he has plenty of years left in him. I love him and he has given me so much and asked for nothing but care in return (one of the many benefits of stuffed friends) and that is not something I want to give up. So while I cannot say that there will never be a day when I decide to venture out without Bunny I can say with absolute certainty that today is most definitely
Not
That
Day.
:)

Bunny after his...second bath, I think.

Photo from last year's summer.

    As the temperature begins creeping into the seventies I find myself placed directly in front of my fan, eyes slightly squinted to avoid flying debris. A small price to pay for the respite the cool(ish) air gives me from the ever-increasing heat. Regardless, a trickle of sweat slides down my body and I gaze enviously at my doll-friends who lack the ability to do just that. But, I tell myself, sweating is probably a more desirable reaction to the heat than melting in it. True but the thought gives me little comfort. I squinch up my face at them and they gaze indifferently back at me. Turning back to the fan with a sigh I give in and accept the undeniable fact that has been plaguing my mind these past few weeks:
    It's that time again...
    Summer.