Rants and Musings

I'm in a weird spot.... going in and out of feeling enraged, and feeling apathetic.

The world is a fucked up place.

Maybe I just see it that way, I don't know. It's all perspective, I suppose.... all perspective.

I just spent an hour writing an entry.

tBlog ate it.


FUCK!!!!!!


This site makes me NUTS!!!!!!!

LEAVE THE "LOOTERS" ALONE!!!!

For fuck's sake!!! These people, who didn't have jack shit to begin with, just lost EVERYTHING!!! Shops are insured, and they'll just have to throw the shit out anyway!!!! Let the people take their meds, and a goddamned can of tunafish, you heartless bastards!!!!


...and let me add... let them take a damn tv too. Maybe they can watch their home floating into the next State on it... or maybe they can sell it to pay for the antibiotics they'll need in a month, after living in that water! Maybe they can even sell it and put the money towards a casket for one of their friends or relatives.


... getting more riled.

The more "popular" your blog is, the less you can really write honestly. One by one, people will get their feelings hurt... they'll read into what you're saying and take it personal. Before you know it, you change your style of writing... and eventually, you write less and less. You get tired of apologizing to people... or having to explain everything you write... or having reassure people. Yes, eventually, you start considering a new site... and eventually you'll find one... and you'll write... and the same thing will happen there, eventually.

It's not just about popularity though, it's about having to spend your online life walking on eggshells, because everyone is so damn sensitive and insecure. There are only so many egos a person can nurse.

All this crap comes up again and again, in my life. I feel like I'm surrounded by leeches. (See, you're taking that personally, aren't you?)

Thing is, I'm not surrounded by leeches. I'm Cutter. I'm paranoid. I always see the worst in people, and if I can't see it, I find something to project onto them.

It's my own insecurity that's the problem. I see the worst in myself, often. I'll start to spiral... and if someone gets in there while I'm spiralling, they'll bring me all the way down, fast.

Sometimes I drink. Sometimes I have to... I have to hide... from myself... from the world... from the ugliness... from the paranoia...

The world is full of assholes. That's the problem. The minute you "lighten up" and start giving people credit, an asshole blows shit all over you, and you end up taking all that credit back.

Yes, just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean people aren't out to get me. This is true. The problem is, sometimes they're not... and I usually err on the side of caution.

Soon, the hurricane will pass. Katrina. I had a girlfriend named Katrina. I loved her very much. I destroyed that relationship, just like most of the others... unintentionally. Often, I miss her. Miss... right... what is it I miss... the idealized relationship, or what could have been? It's over now. It ended for a reason. Must stay present. Must not spiral. Must stay out of the hurricane.

Spending the day watching MSNBC... watching the craziness of it all.

To any of you from Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, and the rest of this hurricane's path... my thoughts are with you. I wish you the best of luck. :(

It's more of a reading morning than a writing morning, I suppose. Spent some time reading people's blogs. I'm weird like that, it seems. I actually do read people's blogs, rather than hopping around playing comment tag.

Spent some time, yesterday, on "tblurt". It was a first for me, as I've had my fill of IM and Chat room types of things. I can't keep up too well, and I have too much trouble holding my tounge... so to speak. From what I could gather, people use tblurt to get people to come to their blogs. I never click on names I see in tblurt. Honestly, "please read my blog" comes off as "desperate" to me, and I figure that if someone is that desperate, there must be a reason why. If their blog is that good, they wouldn't have to beg for hits, right? If someone wants me to come to their blog, all they have to do is come to mine and leave a (preferably honest and respectful) comment or two. That will get them repeated hits, rather than just one, because I might actually add them to my list of blogs I read often.

Although I sometimes use the newest posted blog list, and click on blogs there (if the title intrigues me) it's just the way I usually do it... I read the comments of others, then click on their profile, if their comment is intelligent. I do it on my own blog, and I do it on others' blogs. It's like following a trail of "like minds", rather than risking being pissed off all day because of reading something offensive, or seeing something offensive. I guess my blood pressure is just a little too high to be jumping off of cyber cliffs... and I have very raw nerves.

There's something in the air, and I don't like it. It's a pull... something pulling me... wanting to pull me backwards... pull me somewhere... in a specific direction...

It's something telling me to look for the source... return to the source... find what is familiar... follow the ravens...

I don't like the feeling. I know the feeling, and I don't like what happens after I feel like this. Maybe it's my MS-fucked-up brain. Maybe it's empathy, or being Psychic, or being a Were, or being a Vamp, or being Psycho. I don't know. All I know is that the feeling is familiar, and I don't like it.

As much as I want to close my eyes... I can't. If I do, there's trouble. I have to follow. There's no real choice, despite any warning.

Things shift. Diseases flare. Perception alters.

I'm here. I'm watching. I'm waiting.

Perhaps, this too shall pass.

It's another morning. It's difficult to believe that I've been here ("here" being my new apartment) almost two weeks. The time has passed quickly. This is a good thing. They say "time flies, when you're having fun", so I guess that means things must be going well here.

I remember thinking, before I left PA, that I could be in any apartment, anywhere, and I wouldn't know the difference. True enough. I don't go out. I could be anywhere, spending time online. "Online" has become my world.

I used to go out all the time. My apartment was just a "crash pad". I was always very social. In '99, my health put me in the position of not being able to get out. It made me nuts. So, I cancelled tv and signed up for Internet. I've been online since then.

In my (almost) 36 years, I've moved 43 times. My concept of "home" is forever being challenged. The longest I lived in any one place was 4 years. I've been online for 5. Is "online", "home"? I really don't know.

I like "online". "Online" is safe. There is a lot of freedom online... and the worst that can happen online, is that you get a computer virus, or get hacked, or some such thing that fucks with your cyber-world. True, people can get info from you, and fuck with your offline world, but that still doesn't fuck with the online world. No matter what happens, (generally) the sites I go to will still be there... the things I enjoy doing, and the people I enjoy "seeing" will still be there. Reliable.

I spend a lot of time missing "home". I define "home" as Philly. Problem is, it's the idealized Philly in my memory. It's not really Philly, as it is. Most of the people I spent time with are long gone. Most of the places I hung out at are either gone or changed beyond recognition. So, what is that I really miss?

I don't know. Maybe, I just miss being healthy.

Got my MRI disk from the hospital, today... the one from last month.

eew. ouch.

I'm chain smoking. I really can't afford to be. Smokes are expensive.

I'm just flustered... got a messy head... don't want to think, so I smoke and play a mindless computer game... line up the colors, make them disappear...

My Neurodude called me today. He's not exactly too pleased with my refusal to come into the hospital. I pacified him with "we'll see what's going on at my next appointment, in October." He didn't like that... but he, I suppose, had to settle for it.

I've handled this disease forever without repeated solu-medrol treatments. I know myself. I know when I need hospital help. I also know when I'll do much better with a carton of smokes and a case of Miller.

So, I play with the colored blocks, and try not to care too much about anything. How'm I doing?

My thoughts are all over the place... can't seem to get them organized... sort of like my apartment.

Maybe it's all metaphor... things in boxes... not wanting to open them up and look at the contents... can't figure out where to put the stuff... don't have places to put the stuff... to display the stuff, even if I wanted to.

I don't want any more stuff. I have enough stuff. Enough stuff, but no place to put it out.

Metaphors are spooky.

Was a rough night, last night. I actually got into bed about 8:30, but didn't get to sleep until about 2AM. Combination of allergies and MS crap.

I hate itching.
I hate pain.
I really hate what my brain does... or doesn't do... depending on your perspective.

I'm honestly wanting to scrap the whole lawsuit thing.

I'm tired. Money won't fix my brain. I don't have it in me to handle the whole thing. I don't want my whole damn life on trial. There are just certain places I don't want to go... things that I'd rather not talk about with lawyers. I don't need validation. I spent the last 36 years validating myself. I do just fine.

On the phone, yesterday, I was asked my "sexual preference". It was for the law firm I'd called. They were trying to keep some stats or something. He asked me if he could ask me a few questions. I gave him permission. It was ok that he asked. The problem was that it was pretty difficult to answer. I just suddenly felt like a deer in headlights. I can't answer questions like that. I don't fit into the black and white world. I can't imagine what I'd be like in court. There's no YES or NO answers. You can't try a case like that. There have to be definitive answers. My brain just doesn't do definitive. I live in a Crayola box, not on a mimeograph.

My answer, by the way, was "Poly?". What the fuck else do I say? "Mostly Gay"? What the fuck is "Gay" for me? "Homosexual" means attracted to the same. "Hetero" means different. So, basically, I'm always straight, unless I stumble across someone else who has the same parts and Gender identity, and happen to be attracted to them?

I said "Poly", but that's not exactly accurate either... my sexuality is transient. It depends on the day... it depends on the hour of the day. Everything seems to depend on the day, or the hour, or the minute, for me. It's all a matter of perspective... and I've got a fucked up organ for doing things like that. Yes, No, Maybe, Both, Either, I don't know!

All I know for sure, about myself, is that, right now, I really like sushi, beer, smoking... I like having my freedom. I like being able to like what I like, when I like it. I like being able to "change my mind".

I don't think that court allows for that though, and you know what? Often, neither does my brain.

Been having some problems with my computer. Actually, I think it's my Internet service. It lets me access the net for about 5 minutes, then just sort of goes to sleep. It's annoying. If I restart, it works again... for another few minutes.

My computer's getting "old". Damn technology. Used to be, things would last. Everything's crap, these days. Just last night, I went to turn off my A/C, and the knob cracked off in my hand. ...make it cheap, they'll buy another one. Great. Yeah, I'll buy another one, I just won't eat.

I really do want to talk about the whole legal thing... but I'm thinking that I shouldn't. I'm thinking that if I had a lawyer, the lawyer would advise me not to talk about it with anyone. So, I suppose I should just listen to the inner lawyer. I'll keep people posted in whatever way I can, without saying too much. For now, I've made some phone calls. I'm waiting on someone to get in touch with me. Time to cross the fingers and toes again.

It's nice out. The weather is changing. This makes me VERY happy.

I'm having issues. I'm always having issues. Yes, this is true, but I have to come to some sort of decision about a rather important issue, and I feel stuck.

As I've mentioned, I was stuck in the "mental illness" merry-go-round for a very long time. The stigma alone contributed to completely destroying my life.

There are many issues here. Many. Many issues, and I have to make a decision. Do I sue, or no.

I don't like the whole lawsuit thing. I question myself as to whether or not this would fall into the category of "frivolous".

It's all very complicated. It's a case of one thing leading to another, and overlapping symptoms.

Yes, I know, I should talk to a lawyer. How do I afford a lawyer? Do I really want to open up the can of worms at all? Money won't cure this disease. Money won't bring my brain back.

I don't know what to do, and I don't know who to ask what to do. I just know that if I'm going to do something, I need to get moving on it.

I'm having issues.

It just started raining... thunderstorm. It's either that, or my upstairs neighbor is moving something around. I do like the sound of the rain, when it's hitting things like trees or concrete. Tin roofs are not up there in my list of things I like to hear rain hitting. Hurts my ears. I don't have a tin roof. I have a ceiling, and an upstairs neighbor. As long as he doesn't jump up and down, I'm pretty ok with that. So far, so good.

I have a bit of a headache. It's understandable though. After having one of my psycho buttons pushed, yesterday, I drank quite a bit and took some meds. Stayed in bed... passed out, and sleeping off and on, for about 14 hours.

I'm sure I'll feel the fall out of the meds, and of the actual psycho-button pushing, for quite some time... but I'll be ok. I always am. I'm too much of a champion of the underdog to kill myself, and I care too much about other people to kill anyone else. At least, today.

I still have a lot to do in here... unpacking, and creating places to put things. Boxes. Boxes full of memories. That's all most stuff actually is... memories... keys to memories. Memories can be evil. Memories can make it seem like things happened yesterday, when they happened 30 years ago. Memories can be good too, though. They can point out to you when someone is lying, they can remind you of what you said and did, and they can help one pretend they're actually cared for... giving one something to hang onto.

I've got Bunny. When all else fails, I can talk to Bunny. Bunny doesn't lie, he's usually straight-up with me about things. Bunny's still in bed. He thinks that I should just be staring at the NFL channel with him. The season is about to start.

I'd rather drink because, although it doesn't stop the hurt, at least I might pass out after a while, and find some relief in dreams.

So, here I am. I made it through hell. I'm sitting, again, at my laptop, writing to the world.

I have a nicer view now. Outside my window, I can see trees. Behind the trees, somewhere, is the lake. I'm isolated. There's nothing Nessie and I can walk to. Maybe, on a good day, I could make it down the road to the nearest place... I think that it's a restaurant. There are sidewalks - this makes me very happy.

So, me, Harold, Nessie, and Bunny have a new den. I have my best friend, who lives about a half hour drive from me. I have access to the senior/disabled transport, if I choose to swallow my pride and get on the bus. I'm working on that... getting to the mental place I need to be in, in order to get on the bus with a group of elderly, straight, strangers. I guess that I just don't want to scare them as much as they scare me.

I have a million things to do... things to clean, things to put away, places and people to call, e-mails to reply to... I'm just tired. I'm always tired.

wining the wolf


I have a gallon of Sangria, and I know how to use it.

Stand back, stand back...

It's alright, it's alright

To be standing in a line
Standing in a line

I would cry

I'm back online. I'm VERY happy about this.

Tomorrow is moving day. :)

See you folks, hopefully, sometime next week.

Thanks for all your kind words and moral support.

Well, the bad news is that I'm going to be beyond piss poor... but...

the good news is that I should be back here bitching about it to y'all within a few weeks. :p

I think that one of the most annoying things about being Cutter, is that no matter what good happens, the day always ends in a Y.

Getting tired.

Too much.

WAY too much.

I can do this. I SWEAR I can.


Getting tired.

So, now it's just a few more days to wait. I'm still keeping my fingers crossed. Often, things fall to shit at the last minute. I won't completely relax about it until the key is in my paw.

Then, it'll be on to worrying about money. As I said, when I left PA, I got rid of everything. So... from a bed to a pot to cook in, I have to replace things. No money. It'll take a long time, this I know, but hey, at least the place I'll be moping in will be MINE.

Getting back online will be a priority. It's an issue of money. Until I can get enough to hook my laptop back up, whether it's dial-up service and a phone, or dsl, or cable, I'll be bummin'.

I'm hoping that by September or October I'll manage something. I'm going to be REALLY bored. No tv, no Internet... just a testy cell phone and a few dvds I can watch on the laptop.

I'll make it, though. I've been through MUCH worse.

I just wanted to say THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To everyone who hoped, prayed, wished, or even just thought in my direction... THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


As it stands right now, I'll again have a key on my keychain by August 15th.


THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.


Re-post this if you believe homophobia is wrong.

(re-posted here, with thanks to a dear friend)

I really really really want this apartment.

They're checking out my references... and I'm waiting.

It's available for September 1st. I'm available for September 1st. As long as the person whose name is at the top of the list (technically, I'm just the guy at number 194 who keeps up with his begging) stays UNavailable, and my last landlord doesn't, I might get it.

If this falls through, it's back to waiting.

Did I mention that I HATE to wait?

PLEASE cross your fingers for me. If you pray, I'll gladly accept the prayers.

There might be a possible apartment that I can be squeezed into by September.


please please please please please please

Things are going from bad to worse. Thanks, Mr. Bush. You're a real swell guy. May the orifices of your progeny be infested with the maggots of a thousand flies.

I have to get a place to live. I can't make the housing authorities go any faster than they're going.

I fear going into the hospital. Last time, they nearly put me in a rest home. I can't risk that. Once you're in one of those places, good luck getting out.

I'm turning 36 in September. I'm not going into a fucking rest home! I don't care what my damn brain is doing!

The MRI went fine. The results didn't.

They want me to come back in for (yet another) five day solu-medrol treatment.

I don't want to go.

I don't know if I will.

With the stress of the hospital, I think that it does more harm than good.

whatever