.

This will be my last blog.

No I don't mean THIS post, I mean, as in, this is my last stop. Forever. I know I've said that a million times but I only have so many brain cells and if they get spread too thin it's not a good thing. And my life is on the ever-lovin' verge of change, as we speak. It's teetering, like

...what teeters? Other than a teeter-totter?

The poor kid who never wants to come home is crying right now, I can hear him. I think he's in the bedroom right below me. This poor kid seems to always be crying. I guess a little bit of crying is alright and good for the soul but he's only 2. I want to yell through the floor at the mom to go pick up her baby and hold him. But then she'd shout back, Then stop taking showers at midnight!

So I'm just going to fill this li'l gem on up with all my stuff for the next few weeks I suppose till it just can't take it anymore. I'm gonna own this blog. That's right. Gonna fill it to the brim with my mental bread & butter. My verbal cornucopia. My hypothetical love muffins, lightly browned on top and just a dash of brown sugar.

And then I'm going to turn and walk away, like I always do.

And I will have then accomplished my mission: to record this beautiful and bizarre time of my life. This has been a once in a lifetime experience. I did slip through the cracks, yes, but they were good cracks and the fall has been cushioned and I lack nothing. Even though I own nothing. Well heck. Lookie there. What a perfect ending. Maybe I should just leave it at that?

.

Driving around unknown parts of the metroplex was fruitful this evening, and not cause I found places to apply, no. What happened was, as I was making a u-turn in this one shopping center I saw these words, bright and glowing and sparkly: NICKEL MANIA!
It appears to be sort of a Chuck-E-Cheese thing but you don't have to be a child. There were adults in there, playing. Lots of video games! And pizza! And this has been there all along. When I see things like this, that's when it really hits home that I'm not involved enough in society.

Also, on the way back, I noticed what appeared to be a very well-organized, color-coded and slow moving traffic jam over to the left, and I thought, what highway is that? (it was dark.) And then I looked again and realized, it was an airport. And then it hit me! That's the airport my mom used to drop us off at in the summertime to see movies, roller skate, AND ice skate. All 3 in one, and I'm for real. We used to go back and forth from rink to rink for hours on end. But I also happen to have a really bad memory of that place. It involves a horror movie.

One time my mom said to us, when she was dropping us off, "Have fun and whatever you do, don't sneak in the adult movies." So naturally we did. And of course, it was right in time for one of the worst visuals I have ever witnessed. All I saw was maybe 10 seconds of this flick but it was enough to scar me for life. I remember seeing a woman in the woods who was watching some kind of horrible ritual sacrifice thing. It disturbed me for months, but not as bad as the after-effect of being made to watch The Excorcist one evening with my family. I remember my parents fighting, my mom saying, No they're too young! And my dad saying, Don't baby them! It's good for them to see scary things! And so like any other good wholesome family evening, we all sat together on the couch under blankets and watched The Excorcist together. I was about 7 years old. To this day I cannot look at anything to do with scenes from that movie.

I called my grandmother today to wish her a happy birthday and also to get on to her for giving my mom's work number out to a complete stranger. Here is the official transcript of our conversation:

(gramma) Hello?

(me) Hi Gramma it's Amy, Happy Birthday!!!

(gramma) Oh hello Dear, did you hear the news? What I did for you? How I called that woman
in the newspaper and told her all about you?

(me) Yes Gramma I heard. But I really don't want my information given out to people
I don't know, ok? As in, phone numbers.

(gramma) Oh Honey I didn't give out YOUR number. I gave out your mother's.

(me) Yeah I know. I'm not mad but please in the future just run it past me first, ok? Or
next time maybe you can just call me and let me know you saw something of
interest, and if I want to make contact, I will?

(gramma) Now Honey, this is what I did. I told her how tired you are and so I asked her if she
knew of any work opportunities for you.

(silence, me processing this.)

(me) Work opportunities? What, seeing if she knew of places that made a point to hire
tired people?

(gramma) Now Honey I did the right thing. I know how tired you get. I.....

(me) GRAMMA! I'm all better and my slow-moving job hunt has nothing to do with
being tired! I'm just fine! So if you don't mind, in the future, please don't give out
my information!

(gramma) .....I didn't give out your information.
I gave out your mother's.

(more silence)

(me) Ok that's fine, HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

And then I was able to change the subject but I could tell she still didn't get why that offended me so much. She not only called this poor woman but she told her all of my details, my name, everything, and made it sound like I was in a horrible position in life, with my mother as my caretaker. I feel.... VIOLATED. Don't know how else to describe it.

My mom is still amazed that she did it. She said that my grandmother is the "Boundariless Wonder".

.

I dreamed last night that I was almost shot in the head, but at the last minute I was like, "no, uh, wait..." and then I turned and walked away from the man with the gun. He was shooting folks one by one. It was creepy.

I'm glad in my dreams I seem to realize that I have choices. I fare much better in my dream life than I do my real life. Being shot seems to be a recurring theme for me. I think that's how my subconscious mind portrays trauma. In fact I remember a friend calling me just a few days after my little brother's death, and all I could say was, "it feels like my entire family was lined up against a wall and shot, all of us, one by one..."

She really didn't know how to respond to that. Oh! Speaking of being machine-gunned against a wall! I don't think I've ever mentioned this in a blog before, but when I was 16 and working at an ice-cream store, I was scooping up this old man a nice cone, and as I handed it to him, I happened to notice that he looked JUST LIKE Al Capone, and I couldn't resist saying so. And the funny thing is, he just stood there, all wide-eyed, peered straight into my eyes and said, "I can't believe you said that." I thought I had offended him, but no, as it turns out, his dad had been one of the men who were shot in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. And the weird thing was, according to him, nobody had ever told him he looked like Al Capone before. As he took his cone and moved down the line I noticed he gave me a second glance over his shoulder.
That's not the first second glance I've ever gotten, the kind of glance that says, I'm not so sure about you...

What on earth was I talking about. Oh yes. My walking away from the understanding gunman. After I walked away from his methodical shooting spree, I walked and walked, and this smile just busted out upon my face for no reason, until I found myself walking right into the back door of my old childhood home. I had a grocery bag with me and it had two bottles of champagne, which I left in the kitchen, and walked to my old bedroom, where I started laughing and arranging things, it was a happy thing. That is until I found myself unpacking from a box that contained one of my dead uncle's belongings, and they weren't even his good belongings. It seemed to be the contents of his bathroom cabinet or something: nasty old toothbrushes and a disgusting fake beard? Do men even wear fake beards? Looking back on this uncle, there's no way his beard was fake. It was very much alive and it was all him. This is the uncle that worked as a bouncer at the strip clubs on Harry Hines and Industrial. And when I saw the toothbrushes and the fake beard, it made me want to throw up, and that's how I woke up.

I'm so glad I'm separating my blogs like this. I don't think God would appreciate it very much if I posted this rubbish among the other ones that I'm SUPPOSED to share. But I can't help it. Once something is in written form, it's processed and I can move on. Or maybe I just made that up in order to justify my blogging habit.

.

This is it! Finally! This is exactly how I feel! I can't believe I found this. I stole this pic off a guy's blog but I'm sure he won't mind. But THIS SAYS IT ALL. Just in case you needed a visual.

...but only in the physical realm. In the Unseen Realm I do just fine. In fact my superfly efficiency in the Unseen Realm could actually be what hinders my progress in the Real World, cause it satisfies me so.

.

Well it looks like I'll be getting back into the health food stores. Work, I mean. Selling herbs. The very thing I decided not to do anymore, after what happened to my head. After all that I've adopted a new attitude: it's not my problem. Your health issues, that is. Because would it even be right to go back to selling supplements and telling folks what to put in their bodies when I was hit upside the hea WAIT!! I just realized! Not only is it right, but it adds to my whole selling charm! It doesn't compromise a thing! How come I never looked at it this way before? I recovered from encephalitis, the most nasty thing to happen to your head. Just the sound of it is nasty. I bounced back and the only thing different (like I said in previous blog) is my slightly spacey memory. I was thinking about it today and realized, all that means is that I just need to try a little harder. I just haven't been trying I think.
So I can be like, yes, see here Mr. Customer, take this herb and this one and that one too! Take them all! Listen to what I say because I am super-healthy as evidenced by my complete recovery from a bad brain infection.

Well now I'm back to the whole visitor map thing, which I get hooked on, like watching the aquarium at the State Fair that has the big turtle in it, the moss-covered one who has a tricky glowing tongue that lures in the little fish. But about the job thing. I'm dangerous. I'm doing it my way now. All this time I've been playing by these new rules, where you go in and ask for an application, only to be told to go home and apply online. I've been doing this for about 3 months now? 4? 5? I've lost track. I don't know if it's the schedule I'm applying for, or the fact that I haven't been employed in over a year that's holding me back. Who knows. Well I do know the schedule thing is a catch, the place I almost got hired at only needs daytime help, but I can only work in the evenings, because I'm sharing a car with my mom. If it weren't for that I would have been hired this week. But this virtual application deal doesn't work for me. I need human contact. And so that's what I'm going to do. This is how I always used to get jobs in the past. I don't know why I'm just now doing it. I typed up my own version of a resume. It's short, funny, and cute. And then, I take several copies and deposit them generously, like candied sprinkles on cupcakes, all over town, not calling first, not asking, "are you hiring?" and other trivial things. No. This is what works for me. Just walk on in & smile, shake whatever hand is around, put my li'l paper in hand, turn, and walk away. This is exactly how I got my last job and the one before, too. It just sort of goes with me. I'm tired of trying to get a job the real way.

So. I already have about 5 health food stores in mind. New ones that I didn't know existed. I got online & searched in some nearby cities, some smaller places. Yes. I got my eye on a few mom & pop stores. I'm going to do my thing tomorrow. And I'm going to be ballsy.

I guess since this is a new blog I should say, I lost everything when this happened to me. My apartment, job, daughter had to go live with her dad. My state of mind was just blank. Seizures, limping, slurred speech. Perfectly happy to stare at a blank wall all day. I've downplayed it all this time in blogs, mainly because it was too hard to face the reality of it all. In fact I've only recently been processing alot of it and just now grasping the fact that I really did lose everything. Oh and my car too! On top of everything else, I lost my car. I gave it to a relative when I couldn't afford the repairs, thinking a new one would magically appear in my life. It hasn't. I gave it to the relative for him to sell, because he's the one who got it for me to begin with, and I wanted to repay him. So it's not like I just lost my mind and gave away my car.

This has been painfully slow, getting back up and running. If you've never experienced a health crisis and had to drop everything there's no way you'd understand. In fact I never really had that much sympathy for unemployed or disabled folks until now. Now I see the hurdles they have to overcome to get back into the swing of things. And the funny thing is- most of the hurdles are mental! Like, psychological! It's the weirdest thing! Just keeping yourself motivated and keeping yourself afloat is hard. You get depressed. You feel worthless. I've pretty much felt as if I've slipped through the cracks of life.

.

*sigh*


...my grandmother.

If you knew her you would know what I mean by that sigh. That's the only way to describe her. One sigh says it all.

I'll try to be nice as I tell you what she did today.

Today in the paper there was an article on west nile. It talked about a woman who barely made it, she really had a hard time with it. It got her good. Well guess what my grandmother did today. Just guess.

SHE GOT THIS WOMAN'S NUMBER SOMEHOW and told her all about ME, and then the poor woman called my mother at work. Yes. I am not kidding. Seems my well-meaning grandmother blew my situation out of proportion, made it sound like I was still sick, and the woman called my mom and said to tell me, if I ever have any questions or want to talk about it, to call her.

MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE MY MOTHER'S WORK NUMBER TO a total stranger! My mom was like, ...uh, ok? Who are you again? She said the woman was very friendly and to tell you the truth I secretly do want to talk to her. But not cause I have questions. I think it would be good to know someone else who got it. But I would feel bad, because I'm all better and she's not.

The more I read these people's stories the more I realize how fortunate I am to have recovered so well. It did hit my brain pretty hard, I did have seizures and a mysterious limp in my right leg for a few weeks, memory problems and fatigue from hell. (the fatigue still comes and goes, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, for no reason.) Also the memory thing can be a problem but not all the time and I am not disabled in any way. Just more spacey than I was before, which I think is an advantage, now I'm even more frustrating to those I know and love.

So I'm thinking, should I call this woman? What would I say? Or, do I call my grandmother and let her have it for totally overstepping her bounds and giving out phone numbers to strangers?

Wait! Scratch that. I promised myself I would stop asking questions out loud, in blogs. Just read what I say. I don't want your opinion.

What?

.

I can't tell you how much I love youtube. It always has exactly what I need, and tonight I wanted something to do with an old farmer in a church, to go along with a vision I had in '05, and lo and behold, the most perfect video! Made me tear up a little. I've been doing that a whole lot lately. But about the vision~

I saw a small country church, then the inside, a small congregation, the pastor was preaching, and every time he mentioned God, or said "the Lord", or said "Jesus", this old man who was in the congregation would immediately rise to his feet! Just out of the blue! He was old and had overalls on, like an old farmer or something, just humble and pure, and just at the mention of the Lord, he sprung up and lifted his hands in the air and praised Him! Then he sat back down again. It was a happy thing to see. When I prayed about it, God said, "STAND UP FOR YOUR RESURRECTION!"

?

Of course I was initially baffled by this. Well to be honest I still am.

But about the old farmer who couldn't contain himself! How awesome is that! To have such enthusiasm at the mere mention of His Name that you can't contain yourself, you just have to stand up! Maybe God's saying that's how our hearts should be?

Here's the video I found that seems to fit with this...



When I first posted this vision on a blog last year, some guy commented on it and said, "Aw God bless that poor old man! Bless his heart!" And I was like, no, he's not real! It was a vision! See this is why I like the whole blogging outlet for all this stuff, it lets me lay low and I don't have to go around explaining myself to people unless I just want to. I just don't see how this would fly in real time. Like, in person. Talking to people. It would never work. For one thing my sweating problem would kick in and then my blood sugar would drop, and nobody would have any protein and I'd crash and cry and I'd forget what I was saying. I AM SO GLAD I GET TO BLOG!!!! ..and I don't have to talk to ANYBODY unless I want to!

Did you know, I stole my name? Ripsaw. I stole it from my Other. I don't like the term "significant other" because that makes it sound like it's a person you just think of sometimes. That's not the case here. I won't say what percentage of the time I think of this person, but it's more than "significantly." So I'll just say, he's my Other. From here on out. I'll never tell you his name or who he is, but I will tell you this: his name USED to be Ripsaw, that is, until he abandoned it, like a used tire thrown to the side of the road and deliberately rolled behind the treeline even though it's illegal.

So I got it. It's mine now. I like the sound of it. I'm using it seeing as how it wouldn't be right to use my real last name. Well that's not mine either, it's my ex-husbands, I'm still stuck with it. WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO. Why are names so complicated? Why do they change? Why do we women have to keep getting new ones?

So I figured I need a name that will never change, on account of the fact that I'm not going to shut up until I die. So Ripsaw it is. And like I said in another blog, it's waspir backwards, and if you google waspir you'll see that it stands for warrior spirit. So when I discovered that it made me happy as a clam. Snug as a bug in a rug. I was like, Eureka! Ahoy! That's it!

Well it's 5:10 and I'm listening to the same familiar sounds in the kitchen that I hear every day at this time: my mother, making oatmeal. It's the weirdest thing. Right around this time, I hear her plodding into the kitchen, scuff scuff scuffing along in her slippers, then she makes a bowl of oatmeal, then scuff scuff scuff into the living room to eat it, she cuddles up with it on the couch with her legs all curled up, in her pink robe, just nibbling away at it. And from that point on she's a new woman and nothing can stop her, even though she's in her mid-60's. And I'm thinking, how can oatmeal have that effect on you?

.

I'm happy, yet confused. Happy that I finally figured out how to post videos on here, confused because my original intentions for this post have gone from Jesus to the Backstreet Boys to this awesome guitarist (see video).

I wanted to tell you about a vision I had about a year ago, I was still pretty messed up from my brain blowout, I was laying on the couch one day praying, and I saw Jesus in a beautiful vision, He was laughing! With me! Not at me.

And it was so hillarious that I started laughing too. You could see the joy in His eyes, and He was laughing as in, trying to keep it all in, it wasn't some nerdy wholesome laugh, no, it was more like when you're laughing in school or church or even a funeral. The kind that you can't stop. And I felt His joy and peace, and He comforted me, and I heard in my spirit that it doesn't matter who we are, or what we've done...... as long as we love Him! And that's what was so funny I think! It was the lyrics to that Backstreet Boys song, and I think He knew I would think that was funny, which I did. But the refrain of that song is exactly what He said!

"I don't care who you are
Or where you're from
What you did
As long as you love Me"

So I was looking just now for that video, but found instead a bunch of funny spoofs on it, I've been sitting here with some tea cracking up at these guys imitating the poor Backstreet Boys, who I do like, and not only them but NSync. I can't help it. Even though it goes against everything I stand for. Which is basically liking anything popular. That's one reason why I avoid the radio, at least current stuff, and lay low and slink around the low channels such as 92.5 and also that newish one called The Range. Stuff like that. Then, about a decade later, the current stuff becomes classic rock, and that's when I'll get into it. Staying about a decade behind keeps me in check with my whole stance on being anti-everything. Wait.. what was I saying?

Oh! When looking through the Backstreet Boys videos I found THIS GUY!!!!! And he is really something! Never mind the fact that the end of his guitar looks like one of those caveman weapons! (The club with the spikes.)

.

For some reason I'm thinking about the Sunglass People tonight. I mentally named them that. They were customers that came into the vitamin store I was working at back in '01. All I know is, I was minding my own business, when this big fat motorcycle pulls up and this couple, all leatherbound and wearing dark sunglasses walked into the store. It was hillarious. Because for one thing, they looked like they were in their late 40's, which is fine, but the problem was mainly with the woman. She was really tall, really fake blonde, really busty and really tan. Every bit of her was somehow squeezed and squished up into this black leather getup she had on, including really high, spike-heeled black boots. And it wasn't even a weekend.

The store I worked at was right by Addison, a small city filled to the brim with middle-aged Harley riders. It's a real phenomenon. Anyway the man didn't phase me at all, but the woman.... this is why she was hillarious. This is what she did. I was running the store alone, so it was all me, of course. I always had to handle the freaks alone. They entered into the store, the man went about his business and started looking around, but the woman... she (sunglasses still on, I couldn't see her eyes) strolls on over to me, and she didn't stop, she walked right up until I thought her chest was going to bump into my head. (I'm 5"3.)

So imagine, this tall woman who thinks she's the Terminator or something, not saying a word, not even a smile, just slowly approached me as if she was going to grab me by the throat. But no. You see, my Freak Tolerance Level was already at record levels due to working at that place, so I didn't put up with anything. I just stood there as she walked towards me. I know enough about body language to know, the normal thing for me to do at that point was to take a few steps back. I think that's what she was going for. But little did she know, when you're on my turf, I win, no matter how short I am.

So I stood there, until she was right up in my face, looking down on me, just inches from me, hovering, not unlike a cobra staring down a chicken with a broken wing. I looked at her and she looked at me. I started laughing. She continued to stare at me. Finally (without moving back) I said, What can I help you with?

She just stood there in silence, staring at me. Finally she spoke. She remained in the same place, hardly moving, and said, It looks like you have a good selection here. I thought to myself, where's the hidden camera? Is this a joke? I laughed and started telling her all about our best products, BUT! I didn't look at her face when I did. I looked off to the side, knowing it was bugging her. It was my plot to get her to take off her shades. It worked. After a few minutes, she took a few steps backwards and removed her shades. Turned out it was a real live woman under there! Not only that, but she started asking me questions and we actually ended up having a pleasant conversation. They were in town for some concert. I guess they just needed to make a quick pit-stop to intimidate a hapless local.

My point is, after working retail since the age of 18, I have zero tolerance for people who wear shades in the store. Dark ones, that is. The kind that completely hide the eyes. And they come in and expect me to look them in the eye. I refuse. The bottom line: If I can't see you, you won't see me. I look off to the side, invent some imaginary focal point, until it drives them nuts and they take them off.

I'm small, but I deserve the same amount of equality and respect as anyone else. At least the people who wear dark glasses in the store aren't as bad as the Woman Who Carried Her Poop Around In A Pickle Jar. But that's another blog.

And she went around showing it to people! I'm not kidding.

.

well of course I'd have a stomachache now. I saw it coming but I did it anyway. I didn't "fold box into platform" when I stuck my dinner in the microwave. The strangest thing ever. I had already ripped open the box and removed the contents, only to discover that you're not supposed to rip THAT box. No, this box is supposed to be folded into a "platform" upon which you place your thing (I still don't know what it was that I just ate) (I didn't buy it). You're supposed to follow this diagram and fold all the edges backwards and make a little table. But I had already torn the box, so I put the dinner back inside and stuck it in for the required 3 minutes. It was cold in some places but I ate it anyway. Now my stomach hurts. It was a WAIT I'll go read the box. Alright. It was a Flatbread Melts Chicken Ranch Club.

Nobody ever told me I'd have to know Oragami in order to eat. Same for those dinners that aim to control your thoughts by giving too many instructions, like the ones that say, "peel back plastic cover over beans, cut slit over entree, remove cover from apples,", but they don't stop there, it goes on to say, "after 2.5 minutes, stop, rotate, remove cover altogether, stir", then return to oven. I don't play that way. No matter what the directions say, like 3 minutes on medium and 4 minutes on high, it doesn't matter. I just look at whatever numbers are there, add them, and that's that. That's how long my dinner stays in, on whatever setting the oven is already on. I do not have an overflowing abundant supply of extra brain cells to dedicate to solving math problems in the kitchen. When I'm hungry, that's it, I need to eat, no time for dillydallying. I will not be ordered around by the Lean Cusine or Healthy Choice people.

What cracks me up is when I hear the phrase "your relationship with food." I didn't know it went that deep. What am I missing? All I know is, it's a burden. To feed something that's dying. Why do we spend so much time trying to keep our bodies going, when it's our souls that are eternal, but the food the soul needs is so elusive and hard to come by? And even when you find it, you still starve yourself? For example, I haven't prayed in about 48 hours. I'm already slipping. Getting hungry. And the Lean Cusine thing only tricks me into thinking I am fed for the day. SEE? Why don't you open your eyes and wake up for crying out loud. You're probably starving at this very minute. You think you want pizza, but what you really need is to pray. This is ridiculous.

.

Ok this is it and I mean it this time. I have two blogs that I'm going to keep alive, this one for all of my average, pointless thoughts, and this one http://ijustcantgetenoughofthis.blogspot.com/
for my important stuff, I need to keep it separate I think. Like how responsible folks sort their trash, paper from plastic from glass, etc.

I'm very average today. Actually I'm below average. I actually slipped and fell today, which hasn't happened since I was pregnant 17 years ago. It happened due to my slippery bathtub. I've been conditioning my hair alot lately with olive oil and coconut oil to compensate for it's length. I chopped it all off recently and it's ugly, so by making it smooth and supple I feel better.

So I fell into the bathtub when I was getting in, it was extra slippery today, and for a minute I was just stunned, it took me a second to realize what just happened. Then I started laughing. I wonder what the people below me think. They're a normal little family and both parents work, but sometimes one of them is home (cause I can hear them), and I wonder if they wonder why someone is always home up here. I bet they think there's something wrong with me.

About those people, I always know when they're coming home, cause I hear the kid screaming, and the mom has to shout, GET IN HERE!! ...as in, the kid doesn't want to come home? He's only 2 years old! How can a 2 year old not want to come home?

So about me falling today, I was thinking, IS THIS A SIGN????

So I started examining my life on many different layers and levels. I think I'm good for now. Oh! Wait! I just remembered. A tiny black spider was on the computer last night.

I have so much to say. Even though I'm done telling my experiences. See now I'm noticing new things about it all, and new twists and turns. My life is a puzzle, a matrix, a labrynth. I'm lost in a dream.

Speaking of being lost, I think that's why I love to blog so much. It gives me a connection, even if it's to strangers, folks I'll never meet (nor do I want to)... I think I'm much better at this than I am real-life connections. I don't know why. And I also have no idea why people read the stupid things I say more than the important things.


http://www.myspace.com/i_singmysong_foryou
http://litteringonline.vox.com/profile/