i’ve got no feeling…

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Apr 262008
 

another pretty day. another few hours left before i head to work. the long commute into manhattan, out at 42nd and 7th and into the crowd of clueless and slow walking tourists. last week, i found myself in a huge crowd of kids and mickey mouse. surreal…42nd is surreal with its disney and porn.

i guess i should be resting but i found myself getting up every 10 minutes to change the radio station. radio continues to suck. too many commercials and talk and not enough music.

ah, well. at least they didn’t cancel Moonlight. i need, seriously, i NEED, my fix of that gorgeous vampire. it’s a silly show, but silly is good sometimes. an escape from reality is always good.

ah. right now, they are playing Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. and sometimes, it rips me up inside, this song. because i remember. i remember. and no amount of wishing to the stars will make it so.

i see myself a little more clearly. i was standing on line at the grocery store and this young guy was standing behind me. he was close. i could feel the heat radiating off of him, and i could get lost in that. i moved away like he had the plague. and that’s where i’m at. mentally, physically, and emotionally walling myself off and away from men.

and this sucks.

but i find myself not having any fight left in me. i’m tired. and i don’t just mean physically. i’m running on automatic. blind. tuned out. is this middle age? or just hurt?

nub…

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Apr 242008
 

it’s been that kind of day when you feel like a little mound of raw, worn down, ready to collapse…

it’s been a very emotionally taxing week also. it’s the nature of the job i do…

orangehead finally got her echocardiogram. i worked my regular 12 hour overnighter, (it was busy and hectic) rounded with the day shift, hightailed it outta there back to the apt to pick orangehead up, stuff her in the carrier and drive her to the local doc. i was 30 minutes late for the appt. and the doc wanted to examine her so i had to wait instead of dropping her off. finally, the doc examined her, and i planned on picking her up at 4pm…then realized once i was home, that i wouldn’t be able to pick her up, drive her back to the apt, and get myself into manhattan by 5pm for a work related meeting. so, i drove instead of taking the subway for the meeting, which i hate to do before 7pm because i can’t park on the street and have to use a parking garage which = $$$. i was 20 minutes late getting to the meeting due to traffic and, most importantly, lack of sleep… afterwards, i hightailed it outta there to get to the doc back in brooklyn to pick up orangehead. picture this: a beautifully warm and sunny day…everyone and their mother is driving…AND… it’s 6:30PM (rush hour). needless to say, it was a long painful drive down the westside highway, towards the brooklyn bridge and a long and painful drive on the BQE. finally get to the animal hospital but, as is common ANYWHERE remotely near NYC or its boroughs, i’m stuck doing the “parking spot shuffle”…finally find a decent spot a block away and am off to pick up ms. kitkat. of course, i’ll have to wait to talk to the doc later today because he’s long gone. but orangehead looked good, not stressed and the nurse seemed to deliver her with a sense of joy (i think they really liked her! she was well behaved). off we go, me and my kitty to the car. and it’s a less painful ride home but i still have to do the parking spot shuffle…

she ate like a beast and has an amusing shave job. 😉
~~~
a friend of mine sent me an article about Pope Benedict and his love of cats.
~~~
tomorrow, or rather today since it’s 3:25am, i’ll be taking it easy. i missed visiting my Dad’s grave on his anniversary…had a rough time at work that day, since a client came in in absolute despair over her pet. i spent 40 minutes trying to console her…her sobs reminded me of when i was told Dad died.
~~~
death is real. it is final. you can’t fix it. there are no do-overs. it’s one thing when it happens on its own. when it happens at the hands of someone that is unfeeling, selfish, inhumane… i feel a tiny part of my heart worn down.
~~~

Apr 182008
 

i don’t do this normally, but this has made me physically and mentally ill. i do not recommend looking at the photos…they are heartbreaking. what is the world coming to when suffering and death are labeled as “art”. what is the “artist’s” (and i use the term loosely) intention? what is the message, the idea he is conveying? where are the Monets’, Degas’, Picassos, Caravaggios, Goyas, Da Vincis of our time???????????????????????????????????????????????????

please sign the petition and pass it on.

“Boycott to the presence of Guillermo Vargas “Habacuc” at the Bienal
Centroamericana Honduras 2008″

hosted on the web by PetitionOnline.com, the free online petition
service, at:

http://www.PetitionOnline.com/ea6gk/

I personally agree with what this petition says, and I think you might
agree, too. If you can spare a moment, please take a look, and
consider
signing yourself.

houses of the holy…

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Apr 172008
 

and it only goes to show…
l.z.

less than holy here though. but it’s on its way to being somewhat cleaner. there’s nothing more stupid than sleeping through the night and getting up with the birds to clean. it screws up my timing. it screws up my “schedule”. but it’s gorgeously warm out and i need to take advantage of window “openage”. i need to scrub the bathroom tile floor and the tub and be able to ventilate with warm kind air. and so i sit here, taking a little cleaning break, in my scrubs and bandana and hospital slippers, the kind that are made of terrycloth with a slice of rubber for the sole. and i’m blasting kashmir with the treble turned down low so that i don’t freak kitty out and i’m about due for a beer but i’m trying to lose a little weight, but i guess the spinning class i signed up for later this evening will negate the beer, so maybe i’ll have it anyway….

tell me, how in the heck can a white english boy have so much fucken soul? i mean, just answer me that. i’ve dated many a white boy and they:
1. couldn’t dance
2. had no sense of soul

so why is it that these white english and/or irish guys straight from europe, how is it that they know soul? they know groove? they ooze sex-o-peal?

ah well…

i’ll have to make sure to get back on my regular schedule…it’s just hard sleeping through a beautiful day. you know…carpe diem. carpe man, carpe diem…

ps.
we here in nyc have a guest…should make for interesting driving. i’m staying clear of the east side.
i dare say, though, perhaps this visit will inspire less ny’er coldness…

Apr 152008
 

soon to bed. even after a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. feeling somewhat better (mentally and physically). the work environment has improved ten-fold. hence the mental improvement…

physically, well, i still need to see a doc. but, i am trying to get enough sleep in order to feel rested enough to get to the gym. also working on the will power and discipline. i used to be very disciplined…needed little to motivate me to get active. now, i have to work on it. really! work on it…

yesterday, after only 3 hours sleep, i got myself up and to the laudromat with 4 loads. that was freakin’ hard…got it done, home, made dinner, tuned into Bones (because i still need my fix of Angel, even when the show has nothing remotely to do with vampires or Buffy) and promptly fell asleep on the couch for about 2 1/2 hours. so in reality, i got about 5 1/2 hours sleep. i’ll be heading to sleep shortly this am so that i can be rested enough for the pm->am work hours…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

still dreaming about an old ex-boyfriend. not sure why. why in the heck is this man still popping up in my dreams? it’s been at least 15-20 years since i last saw or spoke to him. the last time i had clusters of dreams with him in them, my sis called to tell me he had a death in the family… perhaps there is something going on with him? it’s not like i purposefully go to bed wanting to dream about him. sure, i still believe that he was my soulmate. sure, i still believe that it might have worked had we been older. but i’ve never taken any sort of steps to contact him. and i never will…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the daylight comes so fast. one moment, i’m sitting still in the dark and the next, the light begins to peek through the blinds in my livingroom and i find myself in another day. i need to sleep, but i find myself avoiding it. avoiding it because you might be there. and i’m tired. but i’ll get the rest needed. find my way to another work day shift…just like the many others who do the same. i’ll feel the little bit of wonder why you come and go, forget, and think about something else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it’s 7:43am.
it’s more than 10 years gone.