Thursday, March 8, 2001 - 9:00 a.m.
'Swonderful--- Mazeroski got voted in to the hall of fame. Yeah!!! It's about time. I liked the Post Gazette's headline best-- "Finally!"
Too Scary, Mickey Flynn and his girlfriend Ann getting tied up, beaten and robbed the other night. He only lives a block away. Sounded like he was lucky to be alive.
Weatherman says we'll be having a "nuisance snow" over the next day or two. Won't amount to more than 3 inches unless you're in the mountains. It's more than a nuisance... it's a drag. It's depressing. Even though the sun is out and the birds are singing, it just makes me feel like spring will never come.
What the hell is going on with these kids shooting each other? I can understand dark emotions as much as the next guy. But why would you want to go around killing your school mates? I don't care if you're an outcast-- hell, most of us were outcasts. I don't care how much violence they watched on t.v. or hear in the music. I grew up watching the Rifleman and listening to Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley. It has to be chemicals, bad chemicals, maybe from the environment? I just don't get it.
Lauren had her 8th birthday last Sunday. She is growing up so fast. She's really a handful and her mom is having a terrible time dealing with her. But I'm the grandma so I just have fun with her. This morning we were playing the silliest games.... making dancing people out of clay with chopstick legs. If it weren't for Lauren, I really don't think I'd be hanging around much longer. Watching her in the morning for a few hours is the high point of my day.
Scares me though. Sometimes she talks about wishing she was dead and of course, I freak and tell her never to say such things. But who the hell am I to be telling anyone about how great life is? I never thought I'd grow up to be like this-- morose, desperate, totally hopeless and helpless half the time. Quitting my job has freed me from the stigma of feeling so out of place with normal happy people everyday. But it's also allowing me time to slip slide back into the darkest place. My schedule is all screwed up. I sleep during the day and then I wake up at night, 3 a.m., ready for the day to start. Marilyn says exercise helps. I don't want to tell her she's wrong but I've been riding my bike for over a month now and it's not making any difference. I can't think of anything else to do. I pray, I take medicine, I try talking it through. It's just always there, occasionally hiding its horrid horned head behind the bushes but never fear, it'll be back, it always comes back.
The people I love are the ones who are hurt the most by this. Joe says to me, "I want to make you happy." And he gives me everything I could want but I always need more. The poor man is killing himself trying to keep me from killing myself. Does that make any friggin' sense? And people call and send me mail and they keep trying to encourage me and tell me everything will be okay. I don't want to sound unappreciative but it's wasted-- all that energy and love should be directed at someone who can say they love life, not me. Sometimes I really believe the only reason I'm still here is because I don't want to screw up that little girl's life. But how much good can I be doing feeling this way?
There aren't any answers to these questions, at least none that satisfy me. I can't cope and that's all there is to it. Some can. I can't. I think about going away or totally changing my life. It's obvious the way I've arranged it so far isn't working. But where would I go? How would I change things? And would that help? I just don't know.
Talk about your bad chemicals. But Gledi says there aren't any more/different chemicals he can give me to help. I guess the weirdest thing about depression is when you're down-- you can't even imagine how you were ever up. It's like the rest of the time you were just pretending. I know that's not true, intellectually. But when you slide down it's as if this is the only truth, this is all that exists, ever, world without end.
Yesterday morning I started out, as usual, writing in my journal. I've got this fantasy life that comes and goes in those pages that isn't just okay-- it's complete peace-- pure good-- it's beyond all my dreams. I know what I want and I know who I want and it all seems to fit together so perfectly. I can see beyond all limitations and I can see me finally coming out of this and into the light and it's so incredibly beautiful. And I want to figure out how to stay there. But maybe that's no good either. Maybe it's as unreal and unhealthy as the dark place. I don't know.
I'm not thinking about it anymore. Seems to be the only smart thing I've said all day.
Reading Grisham's Testament. Pretty good. Easy reading and nice escapism. How does he tap into that well and bring all those stories out?? Evidently he's not spending most of his time freaking out-- that might help. So, gee, if I'd just quit being so depressed, I could do things that would make me not be depressed. My mind has turned into spaghetti or pasghetti as Merle used to call it.
Maybe that's it. Maybe my brain is being eaten away by little brain termites and there's just not enough left for me to stay sane for any length of time. Dry rot and brain termites have left my mind a pile of sawdust...
This morning at 4:00, the waxing moon was shining, it's almost full. I was writing a ridiculous poem called "Jani Loon" as in "crazy as a..." It made as much sense as everything else I've done in the past three months. I can't believe I used to go to work and function everyday. But of course, I didn't function very well. Still, it all seems like a dream now, like I never could have gotten my shit together enough to be hired by anyone to do anything worth while. This isn't a place I want to go right now.
I'm going to talk myself into feeling okay. Have to do it. Even if it's all bullshit, it's better than feeling not okay. I desperately need to get out of this house. It gets harder every day. I feel like I'm fading away...
Jani loon
Jani loon
Baying at the silver moon....
Oker doker. Enough is enough. Maz is going to be in the hall of fame. Yippee. The induction ceremony in August is the day after Lynn Swann gets inducted into the football hall of fame. Double Yippee. Darn Penguins lost last night, dirty rotten bums. Listen to Joni Mitchell... she says it so beautifully. I would like to go into this song and stay there for awhile...
He comes for conversation
I comfort him sometimes
Comfort and consultation
That's what he'll find
I bring him apples and cheese
He brings me songs to play
He sees me when he pleases
And I see him in cafes
(It's very much like the fantasy world I create for myself.) So, think I'll go catch the train to that place for a bit. Thanks for reading. Sorry for cryin' on your cyber shoulders...
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Friday, March 2, 2001
Now that he's working four 10 hour days, Joe gets three day weekends but he usually sleeps at least one of those days so he wonders, what good does it do him? He's sleeping now. I don't know if I should wake him or not. Why is it up to me?
I tried working on my writing and it was so aggravating. I start with a chapter and it's horrible. So I try focusing on a paragraph but it doesn't fit together the way I want. Then I zoom in on a sentence and it's unwieldy and ambiguous. So I pick one word but it's not quite right then I become hopelessly lost in synonym limbo. What the hell I was trying to write about to begin with? This is so much like a typical day in my life. I have twenty thousand things that need to be done. But before I accomplish even one, I become overwhelmed with the details. Inevitably, my energy is sapped and I must go to sleep immediately and never think again. I'm afraid [Curly] said it best.
I caught Joe before he left work last night and asked him to get Chinese take-out from a place in Oakland for dinner. We have at least five Chinese restaurants in Washington but they are all horrible. Most, if not all, of them have buffets-- pay whatever and eat as much as you want. But I can't even eat once. The egg rolls are like chewing on leather and the chicken in the Kung Poa (sp?) sauce is suspect.... what part of the chicken are they using, their beaks? Anyway, the joint in Oakland really looks like the health department should come in and shut the place down but I swear the food is so good, you don't even care.
Been listening to old Bob Dylan songs the past few days. They are classics and he was a genius I tell you, a genius. But some of my favorites are just love songs...
I've got a bird that whistles
I've got a bird that sings
I've got a bird that whistles
I've got a bird that sings
But if I ain't got Corrina
Life don't mean a thing
Still haven't finished the damn book. I remember how when I was reading Silence of the Lambs, I was so freaked out at the depravity of the subject, I couldn't bring myself to recommend the book to anyone. This one, seems like the author wants to shock the reader so bad that nothing is sacred including the right to a good story.
Okay, I have to tell you something. I haven't told anyone about this yet because even though I know that you know I'm crazy, this is too weird. A very strange thing has been happening to me over the last week or so. It's hard to explain. When I'm writing (I mean physically writing)-- in my journal, on a piece of paper, even typing on the computer-- I have the strongest sensation that I'm writing upside down. What the hell does this mean??? If anyone can shed some light on this-- I'd be grateful (even if it means those men in the white coats are on their way.) I've decided there are worse things than being nuts. And being dizzy might be one of them. I'm serious-- I feel like I'm on a capsized boat. But I've never heard of such a thing. It's probably just the virus or whatever that's causing my cough etc., right. It doesn't happen when I'm reading (except when I'm reading as I write.) I don't think it happens when I close my eyes but then what difference does that make-- who can write with their eyes closed?? All righty... at any rate, this topsy turvy thing means I've got to stop now. Here's hoping this too will soon pass. Thanks for reading.
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Thursday 3/1/01
I got the cutest picture in the mail the other day. It was from my cousin Marty's oldest daughter, Hannah. Mike and Kathy had been down to visit and Hannah sent the photo back with them for me. On the back Hannah had written "Janny & Joe, I love you." What a sweetie-pie.
When I emailed Kathy a thank-you she told me her granddaughter Katie gave them quite a scare last month. With a high fever and white blood count & platelets off the chart, she was admitted to Childrens Hospital in Oakland. They were sick fearing she had leukemia but, thank God, it was ruled out. Guess it was some kind of strange virus. he did have a painful bone marrow procedure. Kathy must have been out of her mind with worry. She also told me my uncle Walt was having another heart catheterization.
My aunt Ruth called me today. She sounded good but said Walt is still in the hospital having tests. Then she told me her granddaughter Lynn (Mike and Kathy's oldest daughter) had to have two MRI's in the past few days. Evidentially, one side of her body went completely numb the other day and they haven't figured out what caused it.
Heard from PW in Virginia Beach that her arthritus has been acting up. She's been having a lot of difficulty typing and said her witch doctor is prescribing new meds.
Things around our house aren't nearly as bad as all that but we've had some excitement.
A hacker got hold of Heather's MAC card number back in October and has been using it to pay for monthly viewing at an Israeli pornographic web site. Gee, do you think the Israeli's have better porn sites than we do? Marilyn had a dermatologist appointment yesterday to have a mole checked out. Thank God, it was nothing but, of course, following the ways of our people, she's had the mole for months and worried herself (and me) sick. Meanwhile I refuse to go anywhere for my cough-sinus infection. It's seems to be letting up but now I have laryngitis so I've been without a voice for two days. (Not necessarily a bad thing-- keeps me from screaming!)
Poor Joe has been running around putting out fires-- trying to deal with an hysterical daughter and a lunatic wife. I know this is what's wrong with his blood pressure (it just keeps going up no matter what medications they give him.)
I've been in touch with Bill via email and he hasn't reported any major problems but then, he lies. He lives in Billyland. So rather than feeling good that everything in Texas is okay, we have to go around wondering what might be happening that he hasn't told us about.
Everyone seems to be having problems with my email. Both Marilyn and my aunt Patty have told me their messages keep coming back to them with "fatal errors." I'm not doing it on purpose I promise. But thinking about it has given me an idea. For those times when one must go into hiding, one could set up one's email program to automatically send "fatal error" messages, thus relieving one of the responsibility of writing back and the guilt one might have when one isn't up to replying.
Yesterday I pulled out my old book and I swear a total idiot wrote those chapters-- it couldn't have been me. I thought I could do some revision and polishing but instead a bonfire might be in order. And my other dream of being a web developer is vanishing in the dust. Found out the (deleted) web site I designed for the friend (you know the one I thought disappeared because of hackers) in reality was deleted by the web host. There hadn't been any activity on it for two years. In other words, because I haven't done any maintenance/updates, they decided the inactive space could be better used for other web sites.
Meanwhile, Lauren, the only bright spot I can count on in my life, has decided to go out for cheerleading. Cheerleading??? She's only 7 years old for crying out loud. Since when do they have 7 year old cheerleaders? Anyway, I've been this route before with Heather when she was growing up and it was one rotten disappointment after another. Every year she'd practice and practice and practice. Then she would not get picked although she should have been picked. It was devastating to watch. I can't do this with Lauren. She's assured me that she will cry if she isn't picked but "it will be okay, Nana." Sometimes I positively hate childhood and all its accursed accoutrements.
So, that's all that's happening here these days.... just having a Bud, watching the game. Until next time.
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Saturday - 2/24/01
Watch out cyberworld-- Marilyn has a computer! I haven't seen it but I already covet it-- a Compaq laptop, Pentium III. How cool. Maggie bought it for her and set it up. Merle is already addicted. Seems she found her way into some interesting chat rooms last evening and stayed up way past her bedtime.
We didn't make it to the gardening seminar today. (My excuse was better than hers-- I sound like I belong in the TB ward and didn't get much sleep either, so there.) I need to go shopping for Lauren's birthday. It's next weekend and I haven't bought anything yet. Of course I was thinking I had all this time and would order online but now it's time to think again. Can't believe Lauren will be 8 years old. Next time she's over here, I'm going to snatch her up and put her in the bedroom and I won't be let her out until she promises to stop growing so fast.
Heard from my nephew Steve's wife that Ellen is running and talking. We need to make a trip to Texas before she gets to be 8 years old.
My cousin Marty's oldest daughter, Hannah, sent us a beautiful picture of herself. What a sweetheart she is. Mike and Kathy were down visiting recently. I'm sure they all had a great time.
So February is coming to a close... good. I've got bulbs coming up in my yard (very few though-- the squirrels ate most of them) and I never put the outdoor furniture away, so bring on spring!! Can't wait to start going to Majorsville. In fact, I should suggest we take a ride down there today or tomorrow. What the heck am I waiting for?
Finished Stephen King's book on writing. Very moving. He talks a bit about the accident where a van ran over him a couple of years ago. I had no idea his injuries were so extensive. Sounded like he was lucky to be alive. Anyway, I'm glad I read it. It was inspiring and maybe will help me get off my ass and start writing again.
Hope everyone has a great weekend and hope everyone writes me so I don't feel so lonely out here... Thanks for reading....
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Thursday 
Sorry about yesterday. Some one ought to slap me. This cold will not go away. Feel like a brontosaurus is walking across my chest. Tired but Lauren says "Everyone's tired, Nana." I love her no b.s. way of putting things.
I've decided if I'm going to try to write again, I need to set up a spot maybe in one of the spare bedrooms. Also I can not use this computer. It's too tempting and easy for me to go online. I can use the old one. It's too slow for doing anything on the internet-- should be just right for word processing. I'm reading Stephen King's new book, On Writing and getting inspired. He has a lot of good information in it. Stuff I already know but need to hear over and over. I don't know what I'm gonna work on, the old book or something new. It doesn't really matter. I don't expect to be published. I just think I would feel a lot better if I was spending some time each day doing something I really love. I've been trying other things too... riding my bike, playing guitar but I'm very disappointed that I'm not writing. It's easy ammunition when the mean Jani is out to get me (which is most of the time.)
I'm going to pursue another train of thought. This line leads nowhere.... clang, clang, clang, Willoughby, clang, clang, clang.
Took a drive the other morning, out in the country. Passed a dead deer on the road who had been there so long, it was hard to tell he had ever been a deer. Then drove by what used to be a 'possum. I drove on and saw a church that was all boarded up next to a house nobody has lived in for many years. And in the yard was a pile of sticks, that, one time, used to be a tree. All of this was in a town that isn't even on the map anymore. Very surreal.
Didn't watch the Grammy's but I heard Steely Dan won best album. It's cool that they are making music again. Won't be watching Dale Earnhardt's memorial show today. I know they said it isn't a funeral but it might as well be. Marilyn and I are thinking of starting the funeral channel on cable TV. "All funerals, all the time." Sure wouldn't have any difficulty finding subjects. She did not think much of my cemetary idea, which I was going to call Lonely Acres. Said no one would want to be burying their loved ones in a place named that. Guess not but it made me laugh.
Tried to talk to Joe on ICQ but he got a phone call and our chat got terminated. Wanted to know if he could tell me why my Outlook isn't working. Sometimes it seems like this computer gets tied up in knots.
Hope you have a nice Thursday.
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This one is hard.
It's Wednesday and I feel like dying but then that isn't news, is it? I'm not gonna do anything about it-- what would I have left if I got rid of me? The reason I can't "write" is because I'm so self-absorbed into this depression and the black holes surrounding it. That is all I can write about. But when I write about it, everyone freaks. I really don't want to cause problems.
My mom used to tell me I made it so hard for myself. Guess she was right but I don't know how to be anybody else. Maybe not working isn't working out. I keep hoping I'll finally discover the secret door out of this abyss. I know life will always be a struggle. I just want to have the energy and optimism to face it. I know there will always be many things I have no control over. I just want to accept them and me without giving up control of everything. It's difficult for me sometimes to see the line between what's controllable and what's not, what's real and what's not, what's important and what's not. The older I get, the dumber I become. And I think copping to that will help-- at least I'm not pretending to understand things I don't. But it doesn't help. It just is. So many things just are. And so many just aren't.
Is this journal making me worse? It certainly doesn't seem to be helping much now does it? Let's look back and see how I felt a year ago, or the year before that. I never, honest to god, never thought it would take this long to just accept it. I have these incredibly long conversations with myself. Sometimes I'm even nice to me. I say, " It's okay, you aren't that bad." It's not a question of bad or good, or right or wrong, or change or acceptance. I need to separate who I am from what I do or what I think. But then I look at what is left and oops, there is no me, there is nothing. We are what we think.... some of us think good thoughts-- some of us don't. Some of us try to but you can only tell yourself it feels good for so long. Eventually, if it hurts, it hurts no matter how many times you say it doesn't.
A few years ago I met a Rabbi. I knew he was a holy man before I knew he was a Rabbi. He was very easy to talk to and funny, kinda cute too. But there was this air about him. He was playing with his little girl at the park and I had Lauren there. He was chasing them around, pretending to be a monster robot. It was the time right after I quit working for the lawyer and of course I was a mess. I told him so much. And he didn't turn away or laugh. He was young, closer to Heather's age than to mine. But he was so wise and so good. And I would have given anything to have a little of his wisdom & goodness in me. I was so vulnerable. Anyone at all could have come along and, with me, destroy me-- I had such a head start on it. But he didn't. We just talked and played with the kids. I found out later he was a Rabbi. I've seen his picture in the paper and a couple of times even seen him taking a walk. He's very much a part of the community. One of these days I'm gonna tell him how he helped me by just talking and laughing and listening. He didn't judge. He wasn't afraid. He didn't treat me like evil incarnate. Sometimes I feel like evil incarnate.
But then that's absurd. Because I'm not that important. None of us is by ourselves. It's the relationships we create together that mean something. I just need to get away for a little bit. I don't want anyone trying to cheer me up. I just want to sort it out once and for all. Not everything just one particular thing. I pray everyday that this will be the day it becomes clear. That I can either understand or if not, just move on.
So, that's where my little head is at today. I have to come back up. I know I have more than I deserve...some good books to read and some great music to listen to. I have my dog & cat & the birds that I feed everyday. I've got this house and people who love me, god knows why or how. I've got clothes on my back and food in the refrigerator. I will never understand why I was given all this and other people weren't. And I'll never stop feeling guilty about having it all. But I still want more. God, I'm so selfish and spoiled.
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Later Sunday, 2/18/01
Just found out Dale Earnhardt got killed at the Daytona 500. How awful. I had already updated this journal and talked about how Jeff Gordon didn't win & Heather was probably upset but I was sure she was glad no one was seriously injured in the 21 car pileup. I had looked on the Daytona web site and seen the winner. But the news about Earnhardt wasn't on there. Then Heather called me. I really feel bad but she is in shock. She has to stop watching these races. I know I couldn't deal with the stress. She is in worse shape than I am. I wish she'd quit watching.
Sunday, 2/18/01
I've got a cold and a horrendous cough-- feel like a giant phelm making machine. Sorry, gross but true.
One of my old writing friends has a book excerpt Writer's Block, A Question, published in this month's T-Zero, a writer's e-zine. The poem surprised me as its author, Tom, seems never to have suffered from this condition. His mind is a bottomless pool, overflowing with ideas. His notebooks are bursting with notes, stories, poems, books-in-progress. How I admire his energy. It's wonderful to know that he's finally getting some recognition.
Nice that it's staying light out later, isn't it? We had some snow flurries here yesterday and it's still cold today (28 degrees or so) but spring is on its way and that's miraculous. Humm Gobbee Gobbee. I think we should all kneel down and give thanks. Early spring is my favorite time of the year because it signals a new beginning-- I get the feeling anything could happen, anything is possible. For someone like me, this in itself is a miracle come true.
Made bean soup with dumplings yesterday-- my mom's recipe. Boy was it scrumptious, if I do say so myself. Invited Merle over to eat but she wouldn't come (dirty bum.) She doesn't know what she missed. She would have said, "Yumpty Dumpty." Well, I better stop writing and get this entry posted or it will be Monday. Thanks for reading. Later alligator...
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Friday, 2/17/01
Think I owe some people an apology... Anyone out there who is upset with anything I've done--- I'm sorry.
That said, let me tell you about seeing the Penguins! They were so neat. Mario has this presence that is magnetic, I swear. You know the minute he comes onto the ice-- he's so awesome & powerful. When the Pens first came out and were practicing, it reminded me of wild dogs circling their prey. During the game I missed hearing Mike Lang and his witty repartee. Old Mike Lang Soundbite But the arena goes nuts when Mario scores. The siren is wailing and people are screaming. The announcer says the goal was made by Mario Lemieux. Only he draws out the last syllable for about an hour and a half, so it sounds like, "Mario Lem-youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu" What fun. Too bad I didn't pick a game with a better opponent. As a Penguin's poll said: "Which would you rather watch? 1) Paint dry, 2) Grass grow, or 3) Wild neutral zone trap.
Somebody hacked into a web site I built a couple years ago for a friend. They deleted all the files. What a drag. I can't believe anyone would do something like that deliberately (but can't imagine it could happen by accident either.) Worst part is I violated two of the most rudimentary rules when creating the site: 1) make a backup and 2) be vigilant about security. Really thought the security precautions weren't necessary with a site that small but this incident made a believer out of me. Guess I better start backing up this site, although, if it were to disappear tomorrow, really, what difference would it make?
Got the La Boheme CD & book I ordered. It's divine. Gave it to Joe for Valentine's Day. Pretty neat coz I also found an e-card with Musetta's waltz as background music. The other CD I gave him was the Beatles One. Have to agree with all the reviews it... everyone might pick different favorite Beatles songs to include but this collection is pretty darn good anyway. Reading the notes I couldn't believe the group was only together for 8 years. I mean, I remember that but their influence on music and everything else has been such that most people couldn't accomplish it in a lifetime. Joe sent me a big bouquet of tulips-- red, pink, white, and plum colored. They smell like Heaven. I know he is too good to me.
