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May. 29th, 2015

Haha. God. I remember being a teenager and writing in my other LJ. My mood swings were SO dramatic that I was like, "Man, I must be bipolar." That still happens a little bit. :/

I wonder often how different my life would have been if I'd actually been diagnosed early, if people had noticed something was REALLY fucking not right. If I had stood up for myself. Instead of doing what I did, which was taking antidepressants that didn't even belong to me, in secret. And then wasting the better part of a decade not going to a doctor because I couldn't afford it. Hiding, hiding, hiding. Waiting.

My weirdness WASN'T just "my personality" after all. The last... however many years, almost 14? Of being on LJ? EVERY entry has one red flag or another. It's ridiculous.

And now, it's like, of course it's much too late. I don't have one single dream now. Not of finding romance, or being rich, or ANYTHING having to do with art, fuck art. Fuck writing. Fuck "getting my life back together". I'm running out the clock. Whose clock, I don't know. Maybe all of ours, maybe we're all tied to the same clock. The same big red button at the end.

I don't really think this was the entry I meant to write... I was gonna say some crap about going to the grocery store and how it was really hot today. 

May. 22nd, 2015

My dad has this horrible infection on his face, directly under his eye. The entire side of his face is bright red and massively swollen. I was positive that the doctor was going to tell him it was skin cancer.

Well, it's the same thing he gets every year, but much worse this time. The same infection. The doctor put him on antibiotics and told him to come back on Tuesday. But not cancer, anyway, holy crap I originally ended this entry on a super ambiguous note. :/

May. 20th, 2015

Today is David Hedison's 88th birthday. My god, that seems impossible.

So he was born in 1927. He's 5 years older than Dowdell. I would have put them at the same age. I guess it's just those immense brown eyes that make him look like a puppy...

May. 16th, 2015

I want to come out of hiding, I want to be able to share what there is of my life again, like I used to. But god, I can't do it. I just can't do it. The shame is always there and it's always paralyzing.


I have had absolutely horrible luck with every Fitbit I've ever owned. I've killed them all. think the first two (standard clips circa 2011) died grizzly deaths in the washing machine after being clipped to my pants.

Then I bought one of those little pink Fitbit... Zips? The clip is BIG, it's bright magenta, it's so easy to see. How could I leave it clipped to my shirt and accidentally put it in the washing machine?

Well, I did!

Alright, so then, I bought the wearable Fitbit Flex. It can get wet, you never take it off except to charge it. There is no way it could ever end up in the washing machine. So how could it die?

I don't know, but die it did. It won't hold a charge. I cleaned it, I reset it, I charged it through the wall outlet, I bought a new charging unit. Nothing.

I love Fitbit. Without one, I feel that all I'm doing is "wasting" steps. Days, weeks, months of wasted steps. My body may know I took the steps, but some random server somewhere doesn't. It's driving me crazy.

I read somewhere that Fitbit *might* replace the defective unit... I guess I'll look into that.

Apr. 21st, 2015

  They're trying to cast the new Steve Trevor right now. GOOD LUCK finding anyone as hot/flawless as Lyle Waggoner. I really don't think it can be done.

Apr. 1st, 2015

My brain absolutely cannot process the fact that I'm 30. My age in my brain automatically defaults to 28. Or 12.

Mar. 22nd, 2015

I'm doing badly. This isn't even a fucking joke anymore.

Mar. 15th, 2015

I walked into the kitchen and immediately the radio began buzzing, deafeningly loud. My dad had to turn it off.

Then the radio in the living room was switched off, but still buzzing and vibrating. I could feel the strong field of static. I finally had to unplug it.