October 14th, 2004


No More Mercury In My Mouth But Oh Lordy the Pain!

Oh look at this wonderfully interesting article I found tonight for Dan, Raggedy Robot and Danica.

Oh my God I am dying here. I am in such pain. I was pretty okay before, at least I thought I was, in fact I was going to tell all of you that I felt embarrassed for having been such a wound up ball of anxious wining depression in my last post, but then this roaring pain came on from one of the teeth the dentist worked on today. Oh God! I hurt so bad I took two Tylenol, then I took three Advil, then I took an Excedrin and then finally I broke down and took an extra strength Vicodin and I am still dying here. I don't want to bother my dentist this late at night and even if I did what could he do? I think I'll just take another pain pill, Oh fuck. Maybe I need a root canal on this tooth because the nerves are obviously flipping out over the insult of having worked too near them. The pain starts in this one tooth, radiates to the surrounding teeth, then from there it goes burning along my jaw and then up into my sinuses, up into my head, and even down towards my neck and shoulder. I don't ever remember having a toothache this bad, thank God I took the Vicodin before it got this bad or I don't know what I'd be doing right now, probably crying.

I looked down at my little orange and white Tommy Kitten and he was gazing up at me with such trust and love. When I look at my cats, when everyone is well and no one is in the hospital or seriously sick, I sometimes think I am the luckiest person in the world. We are a tribe, these cats and me. How is it that so few people get this?

After having spent eight whopping hours at the dentist today, four for myself, then four more with Beau, I managed to find the energy to run a few fun errands and this cheered me up whereas before I had been feeling so depressed and freaked out by my Mom's sudden and relentless obsession with forcing me to save money in ways that are too sudden and totally unreasonable. She has told me that she will not be giving me any more money out of my own trust fund, my own income that I have inherited, to pay for my housekeepers anymore. She has said, "Give her two weeks notice and that's it," and poor Anna, she needs this job so badly, she moved into a bigger apartment for her kids so they could have their own bedrooms when she got this job. All of this because she feels I spend too much time on line and thinks that if I am forced to take care of my own animals without any help that I will get rid of them, and that it will keep me off of the computer, the evil, bad, bad, bad computer. She thinks that if I don't have a housekeeper that I will suddenly become a gourmet vegetarian cook and will make meals for Beau and myself. She just has this whole fantasy about how letting my housekeeper, (who I am completely dependent on, since I have had one for fourteen years), go will turn me into more of the kind of person she wants me to be, basically her.

I've been hesitant to write about this because really, how can I complain about my fear of trying to run my little city farm here without help because I am in pain most of the time, when there are people here with cancer, and people whose partners have been suddenly paralyzed while they themselves are missing limbs. I mean for Fuck's sake, I have it so damned easy compare to the majority of people I know. Nevertheless I do have health problems, I am in constant chronic pain, I won't bore you with the details, but I have become fairly dependent on having an assistant/sister/friend here to help me do everything, to help run our lives, and to be a sort of companion/sister to keep the loneliness at bay. Having to suddenly transition away from having someone here in two arbitrary weeks when I have been living this way for fourteen years, because Mom just got it in her head that this is a good idea, is so unfair and super frightening for me. She is like a little girl when she talks to me about it -- she just doesn't get how genuinely panicked I am and keeps saying weird things and talking about how good this is going to be for me because the computer is soooo bad. When I tell her that one thing doesn't have anything to do with the other, she just won't hear me. She thinks I spend all day on line shopping while Anna does all the work around here. She doesn't understand what goes into running this household at all. Oh God, I'm hurting and I'm rambling and I don't want to belabor this, I guess I just wanted to get it out.

I just keep turning it over and trying to trust that there is some greater force at work here and that maybe in some way my mom is right and we will get through this, but I am so tired, so very tired, of being at the mercy of my Mother's sudden and arbitrary decisions.

Anyway, after weeks of anxiety, because Mom keeps extending the two week fire-your-housekeepers notice, for some weird reason, maybe because I was relieved to have made it through this big awful dental day, and after having had another fight on the phone with my Mother, I suddenly felt kind of hopeful and cheered and enjoyed running a few errands. I drove while Beau slept in the car. We went to the pharmacy to fill prescriptions. I stopped by my favorite knitting store to say hello to the owner, Jennifer, I wanted to show her Plucky Fluff's and Neau's yarn, but she wasn't there. I went to my favorite bakery and got a tea -- it amazes me now how the routine of buying a cup of tea makes me feel so good, I'm getting the whole Starbucks Coffee Bean thing now, finally, then I went to Whole Foods and bought some pretty orange paper lantern flowers to put in a black vase on our porch, a dozen bags of dried sour cherries to give to my friend who loves them, (I put one on each stair of the stairs that lead to her bedroom and when she came out and saw them she screamed because she loves them so much, that made my day,) I also bought some really good old cheese, big green olives and these cupcakes that I love. I ordered the hay bales for our yard. I went to The Woods and bought a black pumpkin. It's soo cool, it looks like it's old, rotten and burned, but it's some kind of velvety black Japanese hybrid. I said hi to the son of the owner who is best friend's with Aimee Osbourne and we hugged and chatted for a while. Then I finally took Beau where he had been wanting to go which was to Best Buys to reward him with a game for having been good about the dentist.

Too much pain to go on...

Love you,

PS: Bill O'Reilly, my, my, my.

PPS: Two Vicodins down and no way will I risk taking another, this may be a long night. Thank God I have George Noury to keep me company. Oh yeah, and he's talking about one of my favorite subjects tonight -- Freemasonry.

PPPS: Thank God, (I say God a lot don't I? Oh well, what do you expect from a gal who had thirteen years of Catholic indoctrination? I guess a lot of swearing, hair dye and frequent references to sex and God,) for my friend Phil, he kept me company last night while I talked myself down from a very panicky and super anxious place. Just one more instance of how blessed and lucky I am.

PPPPS: Okay that second Vicodin seems to have almost done the trick, the pain is more distant but of course now I am seriously stoned and liable to say something really stupid like when this woman at the yarn store today asked me if the blanket I had been knitting for my husband had turned out well. I replied, "Who me? My husband ran off with a stripper, so I'm not planning on doing too much knitting for them." Then this prissy uptight bitch woman, (unfortunately there are way too many of these pursed lip, I-Think-I-Am-Better-Than-You types at Jennifer's Knits,) said haughtily, "Was that too much information for you? I know it was for me." And she said this to the other women as if I wasn't even standing there, as if my having said something odd just removed me from the planet as far as she was concerned.

I know it's weird and kind of shocking for people to hear me blurt this out but that's part of the fun of it and has taken a lot of the sting of the pain out of it for me. Being able to joke about it got me through it. Say, does anyone out there know of a place in this country that I could move to where I would be accepted and loved for being myself, Wacqui warts and all, but just a little more hospitable, environment-wise, than Burning Man? I'm serious, I so want out of here.

PPPPPS: Nope, spoke too soon, now I'm just very, very woozy but still hurting. What's it gonna take to kill this thing?


(no subject)

"Artists, poets--whatever you want to call those people whose job is "making"--take in the commonplace and are forever recognizing it as worthwhile.

I think I am always collecting in a way--walking down a street with my eyes open, looking through a magazine, viewing a movie, visiting a museum or grocery store. Some of the things I collect are tangible and mount into piles of many layers, and when the time comes to use these saved images, I dig like an archeologist and sometimes find what I want and sometimes don't." -Corita Kent

Oh God you guys, my teeth are hurting so bad. Not as bad as last night but bad enough for me to have slept until noon and then needed to take three Motrin and two Tylenol and not be able to chew anything so I'm having a protein shake, but the cold, ooh Lordy, the pain. I'm going to listen to my messages now to see if my dentist has any suggestions.

I've been meaning to watch Lost ever since I saw some fluffy sales piece in an entertainment rag a few weeks ago, but something bothered me, where were the roles for actors of my type? I thought, if a plane crashes wouldn't there be at least a couple of average aged, average sized people on there? As an actor who hasn't worked in ages I torture myself with these kinds of thoughts and this isn't likely to change, it's just automatic for me, any movie I see, any play I read, anything involving actors provokes the same questions, where are the parts for Scott, and where are the parts for me, and how do they get away with having so few roles for real people? Yesterday I was talking about this with someone somewhere, (naturally I can't remember) and they said, "What about Kathy Bates, I love Kathy Bates." Yeah, what about Kathy Bates? She's wonderful, I love her too, but why is there room for only one of her?

Now that I've lost some of the weight I want to lose I'm kind of wondering where I fit in, acting wise, but maybe I shouldn't worry about it and just get back in there. I'm such an art anorexic. Anyway this is the description of the characters on this show, Lost, can you see how offensive the description of the one "fat" person is, to say nothing of the stereotyped Korean roles here? Yeah, plenty of room for us "kooky fat people," we get to "provide comic relief." The only problem for me now is that I've kind of slid under the kooky fat person guidewire when I lost some weight and now I'm too thin to play comic foils and too fat for dramatic leads, well, at least according to dumb network executives, I've just gotta source some smart ones. There must be some...

JACK (Matthew Fox) A courageous doctor and the island's de facto leader
KATE (Evangeline Lilly) A gorgeous ingenue who's in trouble with the law
CHARLIE (Dominic Monaghan) A has-been rock star and current drug addict
MICHAEL (Harold Perrineau) A father trying to connect with his young son, who's also on the island
SHANNON (Maggie Grace) A bratty blonde whose rusty French comes in handy
BOONE (Ian Somerhalder) Shannon's even-tempered brother
SAWYER (Josh Holloway) The island's resident bigoted hothead
SAYID (Naveen Andrews) A tech-savvy former Iraqi soldier
CLAIRE (Emilie de Ravin) A very pregnant passenger traveling alone
LOCKE (Terry O'Quinn) A creepy loner with a penchant for backgammon
JIN (Daniel Dae Kim) The bullying half of a non-English-speaking Korean couple
SUN (Yunjin Kim) Jin's (seemingly) cowed significant other
HURLEY (Jorge Garcia) A squeamish, kooky fat guy who provides comic relief

Like a lot of other people I'm loving recycled silk sari yarn. I'm trying to find affordably priced yarn for myself and for Atra. All of the wholesale yarn manufacturers we've contacted want enormous deposits and minimum purchase orders if they'll even take on any new clients. Prism, which makes the coolest yarn, won't sell to anyone new before January and even then they'll want a five thousand dollar opening deposit on account. One skein of their yarn at retail prices runs anywhere from 35.00 to 55.00. Sigh. Oh well.

Last night before my big mean headache/toothache came on, probably because I was still numb from the novocaine, so I had no way of knowing how much I was hurting, I knit up some wonderful yarn from Neau and I got about halfway through my project before Atra said, "Oh Jacqui joon, this is too tight, it is like a carpet. I am sorry, you must redo this." And you know what? I didn't mind, I kind of enjoyed pulling it all back out and winding it back around the ball because this yarn is so much fun to knit with that I'm looking forward to having it around longer to knit. Atra doesn't like it though, but she doesn't get how cool it is -- that the slubbish thick and thin inperfection of the yarn is what makes it so special.

I have to get on that flyer for her. We're going to pass out cards tomorrow night at her friend's art gallery opening.

I bought the coolest black pumpkin yesterday, it's so velvety special. I'll take a picture and post it, I finally bought another card reader so I can transfer my files. Our twelve bales of hay will arrive sometime tomorrow and we'll begin decorating in earnest, right now we've got a hastily but unattracitvely assembled yard with a lot of nude mannequins standing around wondering where their costumes are and how long they're going to suffer being the butt (literally) of neighborhood jokes.

I think the site design here on lovelydesign is really well, lovely, and her journal layout is soooo cool. I love the music.

Oh darn, it's time to watch The Apprentice ; ) Umm, am I the only one who gets that this is just one great big (although definitely fun) promotional tool for Donald Trump? We're agreed on how tacky/gross his apartment is with all that gold and marble everywhere right? I wonder if anyone ever has the courage to tell him that his apartment/condo/whatever looks like crap, or if he would even listen if someone did.

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