World of Wings

A rant before a cute fluffy animal

Everyone knows my feeling on superstars. I could give a rats ass about chasing them down and shaking their hands or getting an autograph. To me they are talented people who are lucky enough to have gotten a break. I love Tori Amos, I think she is a beatiful singer and of course I love to sing and dance to TMBG, but my point is that I know so many other people in my real life who are just as talented and they have not gotten the same break. I have never had the urge to write a letter to a celebrity, until now.

Mr. Fucking Insane Does Not Know What You Are Talking About Tom Cruise,

You are really starting to piss me off. I really could care less that you are in the church of "Scientology", but I do care that you have influence over many people in the US and you are massively abusing it. To hear what you said this morning about how you have "studied" how anti depressants and other "mind-altering" prescription drugs work pisses me off. YOU have no clue what those drugs do to people who need them to live a normal life.

Aparentally the drugs are what have fucked people like me, Bonnie, Clifford and my grandmother up. "Therapy" is all we need.

FUCK YOU

If I could pull your head out of your ass and drag you to Alabama I would. I would bring your ass to my aunt's grave and ask you what the hell "just therapy" was doing for her when she blew her brains out. I would then take you to my grandmother's house and introduce you to her and the other 9 women who live with her. I would take all 10 of these mentally imbalanced women off of their medications and have you stay in that house for a month.

Trust me if "just therapy" would work for my grandmother than we would have hired a full fucking time therapist because I would give anything to have her be normal. I would give anything to have her hug me and ask about my life and how my husband is without freaking out if I say the wrong word. I would love to have invited my grandmother to my wedding or let her hold her grandchild in the future. Most of all, I would love for my mother to have a real mother, the kind she never had. Unfortunately, "just therapy" does not do that.

Atleast I can hug my grandmother and atleast she knows who I am. These are things she did not know when I was a child, but now that she is taking those "evil mind altering drugs" she seems to be doing much better.

After all this I would bring you to my house and introduce you to a 12-year-old boy who used to be so angry he would hit us and throw his desk across the room at school. A little boy who just two weeks ago finally told my husband and I how happy he finally is. This is the same little boy who would hardly hug me two years ago before he was on the right medication and didn't even cry when his dog ran away, because he just couldn't feel.

Oh yeah...by the way, Mr. Cruise. I know someone else who anti-depressants have helped. Me. I wouldn't be typing these words today if they didn't. The day you wake up in the morning and don't want to open your eyes, don't want to breath or talk...then you can tell me and everyone else that you "know all about it".

I am not saying that these medications work for everyone. EVERYONE is different. Just because some dumb ass kid (who probably sneezed in class so his parents over reacted and thought he had ADD or depression) kills someone does not mean the drugs are at fault. Just because the doctors pass out pills like they are candy to kids does not mean that it does not work for people who need them.

In closing...the United States is a free country and you are welcome to spread your words as far and wide as you want. But, I will tell you this. My children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren will be raised not to listen to mindless shitheads like you. They will look at me and my husband and realize that if it were not for those "mind-altering drugs" they would not be here.

Be careful what you tell people. Just because you have the power of celebrity does not mean you are right and I am going to make DAMN sure I tell everyone that.

Fuck You
Shannon

Now here is a picture of a cute fluffy animal to bring my boiling blood pressure down:

BOGEY!

I am trying to figure this out

I keep trying to figure out what I have done to her to make her this angry, but nothing is coming to me. In fact, I am now thinking I am just narcissistic and I have hurt her in some way. We used to be such good friends, but she is off in her own world now, that obviously if I enter is a dangerous path for me. I can’t ask a simple question without either being interrupted or mocked and when she walks into a room it is like I am not even there. I don’t know what is wrong with her. I don’t remember when this started. It is like every question I ask is a vicious attack on her, like I am trying to give her more work to do or mess up some plan she has in mind. How can someone become so angry so quickly? I am afraid to ask her anything for fear that she will roll her eyes at me or throw something. A few weeks ago we were sooooo busy and did not have much time to finish some closing stuff and she was ready to go. She kept trying to usher us out the door and when checking the bathrooms was mentioned she threw her stuff down in anger. We told her she could go, but it was not good enough. There have been countless nights we have waited for her and never thrown a fit…I don’t understand. Maybe I am just thinking all this anger is directed at me, I don’t know. But I am through. I am done walking on eggshells and I am done being smarted off too. I guess she thinks she is the only one with a million things to do, but she is not. Other sides need to be looked at. I am done coming to work upset because I know one of my best friends is angry with me. I AM DONE. There is a point that is reached and I am standing on it. I asked her about a video yesterday and she would not let me finish the sentence before she got smart with me. Then there are excuses of “why” she is being this way. There are no more excuses for me. No one deserves this kind of treatment. I will no longer stay downstairs and help in the morning if she can take one look at us and walk over to her area. I will no longer offer her help because if she has to help someone else she gets mad. When I am talked down to I will talk back. I am not a dog and will not be treated that way. It seems she is now playing the silent treatment when it comes to me. Play on.

A Little Bit at a Time

Things are going a bit better. My side started in on me again Monday, but I went right to bed when I got home and the next morning I felt a bit better from relaxing the nerves. Yesterday after work Paul and I took Clifford to the fair and we had a pretty good time. I will post some funny pics when I get home. I wonder, Joel, is there anyway I can get a space just to post my photos since that seems to be my “thing” lately? The fair actually had a white water flume ride like at Six Flags and we were dumb enough to do that first. We realized how afraid Clifford is of heights when we rode the ferris wheel to dry off. My favorite part of fairs has always been the games, which Paul hates. I am good at saying “no” when the carnies yell at us, but Paul does not have that strength within him. The only thing I wanted was a big ass mogwai (Gizmo) stuffed animal the shooting range had, Paul tried twice, but it was not happening. I think I will check and see if Ebay has one. All in all it was fun mainly because I got my funnel cake and a unicorn. The petting zoo was nice; because it was obvious the animals were allowed exercise and MUCH food. The pony ride’s pissed me off as they always do. I can never imagine an existence of just going in circles and circles. The best part was that I never saw anyone on them; I think the world is finally catching on. I loved watching Clifford on the rides and Paul and I got to spend some quality time together. Unfortunately I overdid it, as usual and wound up on the couch crying by the time we got home. One and a half Clonipins later I was acting like a drunken bitch and Paul had to coerce me to bed. I feel hung over today and I need some medication for my pain, but the doctors always make me out as a drug addict. If I try to point out that every prescription I have had for narcotics has been months and months apart, they don’t seem to notice. My stupid ass pain management doctor who said “I’m not out often so this should not be a problem anymore” is out for two weeks of every freaking month! Monday I finally get my last epidural and I hope that will end all of this bullshit. Then I will have to deal with my weight and the bone spurs in my foot. I am, though, proud of my current medicine intake. At the beginning of the year this was my regimen:

Prozac (1 a day 40mg)
Welbutrin (2 a day 300mg)
Levbid (3 a day .75 mg)
Clonipin (2 a day 1mg)
Loratab (2 a day 10 mg)
Strattera (1 a day not sure of the mg)
1 multivitamin
4 fiber pills
2 cranberry pills

That equaled 18 pills a day for someone who is not sick enough to have to take all of that. My doctor said I should try to come off of the Prozac, so I did slowly start tapering, but when my head started doing the “brain shock” thing it does when my serentonin (sp?) gets low I had to go back on it. My current medicine is this:

Prozac (1 a day 10mg)
Welbutrin (2 a day 300mg)
Levbid (3 a day at .73mg each)
Clonipin (As needed)
1 multivitamin
4 fiber pills

See? I am getting there! Plus, Paul, Josh and I are starting to go to the gym on a regular basis and my body seems to be getting back on schedule. Whoopee! Maybe this time next year I will be healthy enough to have a baby. Guess I better work now.

I don't Know What I Want to Put Here...

My Harvey is still gone. Paul decided last night he wanted to go ahead and get another bird. It seems so unhealthy and I feel so guilty, but he said he felt it would help him keep his mind off of Harvey. I brought the cage in and emptied it of Harvey’s toys (I will not give any other bird his toys, it does not seem right) and I cried my eyes out as I laid each toy in a box…his hanging mirror with his smudges still on it, his cuttlebone with chips fallen out of it, his last millet spray…and put it away. The worst was when I emptied the bottom of the cage and his feathers were still there. Paul broke down and we both cried for a while. After we had both cried every tear left in our bodies we got a phone call from a lady saying she had found our bird. I was ecstatic!!! I couldn’t even talk to the lady I was crying so hard. Paul got on the phone for me and our hopes were crushed again when the lady described the bird. It did not sound like Harvey. Paul had to go anyhow and we met a beautiful little girl who was quite and tame, but it was not Harvey. We ventured to the breeder’s house that I talked to earlier and fell in love with his tiels, but they all looked too much like Harvey. I could not handle getting another one. In the end we left with a beautiful Indian Ringneck that we have named (we’re still not sure if she will keep this name) “Indy”. It was hard last night to walk around the corner and see a different bird there. Paul kept saying it should be Harvey. If a miracle happens and Harvey comes home, then we will be the happy owners of four birds. Paul said exactly what I felt last night:

“It would be easier if he had died…this not knowing is the worst feeling in the world”

The breeder we got Indy from said that bird owners grieve more than any other pet owner in the world. Apparently their attitudes and the bond they form with humans is greater than any other.

I know its killing me, but every day it gets easier. At least we had him for awhile.

He knew we loved him.

This is what "Indy" looks like, except she is a girl and does not have the black ring. She does have a little bit of a ring, but the girls usually do not get them. We can't hold her on our finger because her nails are too big and sharp, but she likes to sit on our hand and shoulders. She seems very curious and loves to run around and get into stuff.

Harvey is Lost

Our cockatiel, Harvey, flew out the door yesterday and my husband and I are devastated. We have put up fliers (can hardly miss those thanks to Cliff stapling them to every pole on the street!), called all the vets in Long Beach, Gulfport and Pass Christian, notified Long Beach and Gulfport animal control, put ads in the paper and online and called the humane society. Harvey is very loving and he loves to play with people so I am hoping he will land on someone. This is a strange favor to ask, but if you are outside and remember him will you call out his name once or twice? The vet said since he is so friendly he may just land on someone's head if he hears his name.