I finally installed my new Scandisk so I can share my digital pictures with you, yeay.
This is our sweet little Tommy cat. He has the cutest eyes. He's so cute I want to fold him up and put him in my mouth.
Here he is sleeping on my bed. He's adapting quickly. He's the only kitten we have around here but he doesn't take any crap from the big guys and they're enjoying having a little kitten around so they tolerate his annoying kitteny habits and will play with him up to a point.
Tommy spends a lot of time sleeping. I wish I was as good at sleeping as he is. I like to pick him up while he's asleep and hold him like a little cat baby.
I had the weirdest dream this morning. As usual I didn't get much sleep last night and was forced to catch up on the lost sleep, well, a little bit, in the morning. I'll italicize it so you can skip it if you like.
I was living in some alternate screwed up version of my house, a much smaller one, and my Mother was living with us and it was hell. My housekeeper and my mother's housekeeper and some hotel vacation housekeepers, ("Housekeeping!"), were all there. She had brought a motley little entourage of desperate underpaid butt kissers along with her and they were all pitted against Beau and me.
Mom was staying in my room and she had a bitchy gay hairdresser friend staying with us as well. He was staying in the next room over from mine. I had given up my closet so Mom could put all of her things in there and she was criticizing me incessantly and then when I would argue a point with her she would hang back and act like a helpless victim. I don't think she could see how relentless her attacks were on me, relentless and debilitating, I felt wiped off the map by her. But because she was so good at playing the poor me I'm so old and fragile card, if I would oppose her in any way, stand up to her or disagree with her, which I felt compelled to do, I would look like the bwd...
Oh great Sammy or Swanky, I can never tell which (because they are identical twins -- unless they're wearing their collars which they always pull off), just walked across my night stand and stuck his foot in my low fat granola with soy milk, knocking the bowl over and pilling the contents all over the place. Then with a final flourish he shook his cereal and milk covered paw off and the contents went flying all over my laptop and me.
Back to my fabulous dream, not -- I felt desperate, unseen and unheard and terribly misjudged by everyone around us who were all on Mom's side. I kept trying to make my mother and anyone else who would listen understand that I was a good daughter, a good mother to my son, a good person, but it just wouldn't work. My mother, in going through my closet, now hers, grabbed a few sweaters and things, took them out, and said, "I clearly told you to put these in the hall closet two days ago, why would you have put them here?" I felt so little and said, "But I didn't put them there Mom, I set them down on the bed while we were speaking and I had every intention of hanging them up where you suggested but one of your housekeepers took them away before I had the chance." She looked around the room and playing to her coterie said, "Oh that's rich, blame it on the housekeepers, the poor housekeepers, when you are the one who is too lazy and dumb to put things where they belong." Then she started criticizing us for not making ordinary meals and eating at a "regular meal time." "That's why your son is so fat you know. It's all your fault because you are too lazy to insist on his eating healthy food."
We got into a fight and her hair stylist jumped in for her and started attacking me. I told him that he didn't understand, he couldn't see how hyper critical she was of me and how often she put me down. He didn't care, he was defending her and taking her side to gain her approval. He finished by telling me I wasn't an actor at all, told me I was "washed up, not even a character actor." In the dream this was the lowest of blows, it was like wiping out my identity to tell me I wasn't an actor. I went crazy and followed him to his room where, totally against character for me, I made some derogatory comment about his being gay. I felt ashamed of this immediately after having said it.
I didn't know what to do so I started cleaning up thinking that maybe this would make my mother see me and love me again. I was picking up clothes and moving them from place to place but whatever I tried to do to put things in order, I would be hampered by Rosa, mother's housekeeper, who would put things in my way.
While all of this was going on, Mom and her friend decided to get ready to go out to dinner and they didn't invite us. I was hurt by this. Things start to get kind of fuzzy at this point but I remember apologizing to Mom's friend and telling him that I wasn't homophobic at all and had never called anyone gay before in an attempt to hurt them. I told him that I was deeply sorry and that even though there was no excuse for it, it had come from a place of deep hurt at his having totally invalidated me as an actor and a person. He accepted my apology and then we wound up doing drugs together, something white and powdery that we snorted. Creepy weird upsetting dream.
I've been going through my friends list a little at a time, adding and deleting people. Please don't worry about being deleted, if you aren't a troll or a suspect journal I won't delete you. I just need to make some room for new friends because I've reached my friends limit.
I used to just add anyone back who added me because that seemed like the easiest and only way I could manage a list this big, but since I have begun making some of my more personal posts private I don't feel safe doing this any more. It's taking me some time to get through this, please be patient, or post a note to me so I can remember to add you sooner rather than later. I know some of you have written before asking to be added but before I know it days have gone by and my journal has spun a few new pages and my easily distracted shiny black crow mind has moved on as well, without meaning to. I consider being added as a friend here to be an enormous compliment which is why it pains me not to return the favor.
Over the last several days, as I've been doing this -- going through my friends list -- I've written to some of the many people who've deleted me, people whose journals I really liked and didn't want to lose track of. I'd write apologizing for not having been more reciprocal and ask them if they wouldn't mind letting me know why they had added and removed me. I know this is lame, you guys have gone over this territory with me before, who gives a shit really, people come and go and I should just leave it at that, but I can't shake the feeling that I might have inadvertently missed a good potential friend because of my little mental quirks and idiosyncrasies. The whole friends list thing drives me mad.
One of the interesting things about doing this though is that I find some wonderful people and get to reconnect with them, and I find some not so wonderful people who I am glad, although since I am thin skinned it never feels good, have removed me from their list. One in particular let me have it for not only not having posted in her journal or given her the attention she felt was her due, but had been so stupidly space brained and forgetful as to have asked her twice now, why she removed me. She had answered me months ago when I had asked her then, saying something like "Don't take it personally I remove people who never comment in my journal, etc., etc.," But this time she was pissed, quoted the last time I had asked her and included her response but capped off the wound by saying, "This is a perfect example of why I removed you. I guess 'some' people have too many friends to care about all of them and only really pay attention to a select few." Something like that.
I was mortified, here was this person who shared so many common interests with me, someone I would like to be friends with, but who I had completely missed in the foggy forest of my mind, but who was obviously angry and felt like striking back at me because she had taken it personally. I can see why someone would take it personally, but in this crazy speedy cyber world I have learned enough about this kind of communication to know that I shouldn't. I mean there are tons of people here who I adore, who I have added but who have never added me back, people whose journals I have made the time to comment in, who never respond, and I just move on, sadly, but I move on nevertheless and never take it personally, or at least I try not to. However if one of these people made it abundantly clear that they were impaired, that they meant well but had a sincere problem, I can't imagine jumping up and down on them, kicking dirt in their faces and dismissing them so totally.
Another complaint I have, and I'm certain to lose friends over this, is when people feel everyone else should just line up and adhere to their Nazi design style and scroll policies here. I know I'm being a little bit Kelly-Osbourneish-pre-rehab here, (I actually love Kelly Osbourne and that part of her that would just throw caution to the wind and say whatever came into her sweet little mind, I'm going to miss that part of her,) but seriously come on, these are our JOURNALS, the key word here being journal, obviously, and to my mind that means we get to write or post whatever we like without fear of being censored. I certainly don't want to have to do the censoring for you. If you dig me then great, come along for the ride, but if you are going to diss me because my pictures are too big or I write too much, then there's the defriend feature, go use it. Sorry to be so mean, I know this is out of character for me, but I'm tired, bone tired, I hurt and I don't need to feel less than in my own God damned journal. Let me at least be myself here of all places.
When I'd hit a journal of someone who had deleted me and see in their information page that they were lecturing people on the etiquette of the Live Journal cut, I'd think, "Aha, so that's why they removed me, because of my overly long rambling entries." I've already made the concession of making my pictures as small as possible, every once in a while I'll make the mistake of posting one that is slightly larger than one or two people would like and then the complaints come flooding in, argh. Then a childlike part of my mind -- you don't have to probe too deeply to find many of these -- would go, "Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa. glad you're gone that makes room for one more person who won't be as big of a Fucking Control Freak as you are!" Another way of putting this would be to say, "Etiquette Shmetiquette Fuck off!" Please don't take this personally, I'm just letting off a huge caldera capped volcano of pent up steam here. It really isn't meant to hurt you.
My God this was a bitchy and reckless entry. I hope no one sees it. Vicodin does not make for a kind and friendly Jacqui. I had one last night but I think they stay in your system for a good long while. I'm not going to take one tonight, yeah right, we've heard that one before. My dentist told me I could take them for a week, but oh God if I do that, I'll be back to where I was last spring. I'll see if I can hold the pain down to a minimum with over the counter things tonight -- wish me luck.
Friday October 15, 2004
This is last night's entry, I'll move it later;
I have been feeling so rotten for the last few days because of my stupid tooth. My dentist wants me to see if I can hang with this pain for a few days more in the hope that the tooth will settle down so I won't have to have a root canal. I start out trying to blot out the pain with Tylenol then Advil and eventually I resort to taking a Vicodin.
I had weaned myself off of them last spring when I forced myself to face the fact that I had developed an addiction to them. I had been taking half of one almost every night for months and months. So I really don't want to get sucked back into this again but I don't really have much choice, it hurts so bad. It's funny how much drama this caused in my journal when I first wrote about it, you'd think I had just admitted to having a massive heroin addiction. When I went to NA meetings, without meaning to, people kind of rolled their eyes at me and my little pill problem. I mean these people were taking forty pills a day. I just read an article about Kelly Osbourne where she admitted that she was taking twenty-thirty Vicodin and other pain pills every day for something like seven years. She was throwing up blood. Poor little lamb.
Today, despite the fact that I haven't fallen asleep before 5:00 AM in days, I had to get up and get things done when all I wanted to do was lay in bed with my hurting arms and legs wrapped around cats and pillows. When I don't sleep the Fibromyalgia gets so bad, somehow the two are tied, sleep and pain.
This is the flyer I made for Atra's knit show. She insists on calling it a show instead of a sale or a boutique. Today I took pictures of her daughter and niece wearing her shawls/ponchos so I'll replace the pictures on this one with the new ones as soon as I can.
There was so much to organize and get done around here and I had promised my friend Atra weeks ago that I would go with her to this art gallery opening for a friend of hers tonight, and that I would have her announcement card completed in time for her to take with her to hand out to all of her wealthy friends who would be there tonight. I really didn't think I would be able to pull it off; make the postcard, go to Kinkos, print it out, make copies on cardstock and cut them down to size, then get super dressed up, (Persians really dress up, they go all out, best clothes, best jewelry, the whole thing,) and then somehow manage to pick up Atra, her sister Maryam, and her son Arya, drive to Beverly Hills to pick up Lalle, and then go to the opening and be social and friendly and stand around for a few hours. But I did, I made a great card that Atra loves and I got there just in time and had just enough gas in my car to drive us all there and back and my tooth held out just long enough to get him back home before I started flipping out from the pain of it.
The gallery showing was very cool. Atra's best friend Maryam is quite famous in her country and here as well among the Iranian community. Her father is the most famous architect in all of Iran and her mother who is a talented artist owns the most renowned art gallery. This was Maryam's first show here in the US.
This painting is called China.
The story of the artist whose work she was showing is so wonderful. I'm so sorry I can't remember her name tonight. I'll do the best I can to tell you about her for now and then update this tomorrow since I don't have her little booklet with me. This woman artist was a very simple country woman from the north of Iran, a simple farm working woman in her seventies who could neither read nor write and who had absolutely no art training of any kind. She was so simple she didn't even know that paint or brushes could be bought in stores.
Apparently she loved her cow more than anything and for some reason her children sold their cow without consulting her. When she learned that her cow had been sold she was inconsolable. She wanted something to remember her cow by so she made paints out of berries, earth, nuts and leaves and anything she could find that would produce color, and began painting her beloved cow. Once she started painting she couldn't stop and painted every bare surface available to her. She painted every wall in her home. She painted and painted and painted this cow. She became known in her little village as the crazy painting cow woman and word about her sudden obsessive painting spread to neighboring villages.
I don't know yet how Maryam's family discovered her, their gallery is the most prestigious gallery in their entire country -- but there were several discoveries along the way that led to her having a showing there. At some point someone from Sweden came to see her, gave her paints, brushes, and paper and asked if she could then take some of her work back to Sweden to study it. They are comparing her simple, primitive, and colorful style to Chagall and she is being described as a genius.
The paintings are sweet and funny. There are of course paintings of her cow but she has branched out now to cover subjects that have captured her interest. She was interested in China and without ever having read about it or seen any photographs of China she has made a painting of how she imagines China to be. Her husband had an affair so she painted a picture of him on a trash can, and there were several paintings of men and women and the forbidden apple. In one of the paintings called, The Revenge of the Wives, two women have joined forces to tie a man to a tree and they are taunting him with an apple. There are also paintings based on traditional Iranian folk tales, and paintings of women and children, and there is a pretty painting of a mermaid.
I love the colors and the movement of the works and the simple sweetness of them. I love the patterns on the clothes, the women's skirts, the scales of the fish. I wish I could afford to buy one but alas I cannot.
I finally settled our hay bale delivery problem. A nice guy and his cute little girl Hailey drove all the way from The Farm in the valley and dropped off twelve of them. I tossed two over my neighbor Karyn's fence and we left the rest in the driveway. I'll have to begin dealing with that tomorrow. I should probably call the documentary crew but there just isn't enough time and I don't feel like worrying about it. They can come some day after school next week or next weekend. We're just not ready for them.
My Little Red Riding Hood costume came and it's huge on me. I'll have to find an affordable seamstress to help take it in. I wonder if this would be too big of a job for Atra's daughter Guilan, she knows how to sew but I don't want to impose on her. I just need some of the skirt cut out because it's way too big and the corset needs to be taken in. I don't know about the wig, I might just put my hair up in pig tails and ribbons. Beau doesn't like it because he says it's too little girl like and isn't scary. He should talk he's going to go as a big white rabbit again.
I went by gatodesnudo's journal to wish him a Happy Birthday and saw this, it's pretty funny...
"has anyone else seen this?
when you go to google and type "weapons of mass destruction" and hit the "i'm feeling lucky button" it takes you here
curiouser and curiouser..."
This is always fun to look at every once in a while. I always lose the link though.
Interesting to note that I say Fuck a lot, but that won't come as a surprise to anyone who reads my journal. Although I like that I wrote love more than Fuck, and cats didn't even make the list, huh.