no rest for the wicked

Perhaps there's a reason why my music studio is taking so long to get built back up.

Perhaps it's because I'd be pissed at how little time I have to actually play.

Yesterday, I was trying to write a blog about how I don't have enough time to do music, when I didn't have enough time to finish writing the blog.

I realized yesterday, that I work 6 days a week now.

I truly am making up for the 4 years I was off from my motorcycle accident.

I am working.  Make no mistake.  This is not the 'semi-retired' vision I had of moving here.

With the exception of Sunday, I am up with my alarm every morning to deal with workers.

On Sunday, I hide from everybody, locking all doors, in hopes that I get some alone time.

My day 'off' from village clique, gossip, and workers.

While everyone is getting drunk on 'g*d's day', I'm busy talking to the angels, thanking them for the quiet time to myself.

Puttering and cooking alone!

It sure would be nice if I could do some music, but I'm too busy catching up on everything on Sundays.

Everyone keeps saying, "It will end," but I'm not sure I believe them.

I have to say, that one day off is sure nice.

I am so happy when Sunday comes.

What I realized yesterday (as I ran around while every worker was calling my name, including once when I THOUGHT I had time to jump in the shower, only to be stopped mid bathroom entrance to come out in my towel to say give me 20 minutes please!!), was that I am ABLE to do all this.

It's a revelation I am amazed at every day!!!

I know that I feel better here, it's just that I didn't realize just HOW much better I would feel.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still the Limping Lesbian, but instead of limping about while all groggy on pain meds, I'm limping about with energy and the ability to do things.

It still hurts, but not enough for morphine.

Yesterday, the Dominican Daddy showed up for his gardening shift with a blood infused gauze on his knee, limping around the yard.

He had been in a motorcycle accident.

I was grateful that the only thing that was really horribly wrong was that he had a piece of his knee skin re-attached in a utilitarian way of shoddily sewn stitches.

Unlike the work done in Canadian hospitals, it was not sewn to look good when it heals, but simply to re-attach what could have been left behind at the scene.

Also, they don't wear helmets here, so he could have been dead, or worse, paraplegic or a brain damaged.

I had to tell him about 7 times that I wanted him not to work, but to go home with pay and heal.

He kept refusing, being the dedicated worker he is, "It's no problem," he would say time and again, but he was obviously in pain.

I almost felt I needed to wrestle the hose out of his hand!

Eventually he agreed, I finished off the rest of the garden watering, and later on we brought him the gift of his very own stash of pain meds.

That should keep him calm in a Pain Med Party for a few days so he just loafs around, forcing him to rest his body and heal.

I remember the pain med days as such.

I couldn't do much more than watch TV and become addicted to so many shows.

Now?  I have one show that I wait all week to watch, 'The Following'.  Oh, it's such a dismally good one.

It will keep me going on the off season of 'Dexter'.  I love me some gore and thrill.

Anyway, I have one show a week, and last night I didn't get to watch it, because the street power was off for 6 hours, and neither our inverters were working.

Papi and I had a nice romantic meal by lamp.

Good thing the gas range still works without electricity.

It made for a really hot sleep without circulating fans, if there was any.  I kept waking up in a pool of wet thinking I was drooling all over my pillow, but it was sweat.

However, the point is, I get so much done!!!

Except music.

i am doing work that i enjoy and find fulfilling

Mission in mind.

No coffee in the world is going to wake me up today.

Last night we had a little problem with the garage door, and Papi and I went to work to fix it.  It meant lifting way more weight than either of us should have.

Hence, I had to embark on a Pain Med Party.

I'm doing much better today, as the heat really relaxes my damaged muscles, and they don't go into full spasm.

However, now I'm groggy and not really into accomplishing much today.

Still, I don't have that choice.  There are a few different workers coming.  One to build our bed frame, another to work on our car and a third to come fix our damn washing machine we've had for 3 weeks but haven't been able to wash any clothes with.

Yesterday at the PriceSmart in Santiago, they weren't willing to make the customer happy when I had 4 items that were not working properly, because I didn't have a receipt.

I told them that I KNOW it's in the computer, because that's where they checked when our washing machine we had just bought wasn't working.

The guy went on and on about how much time it's taking to look through the computers and how I'm taking all his precious time that could be used for something else.

I told him, "It makes up for the fact that I'm still waiting for your technicians to come and fix our washing machine.  My clothes are all dirty and I'm being patient, so maybe you can be patient with me?"

Things got much nicer after that.  We got everything I asked for and apparently, they're coming this morning.

We'll see if they get to see the crankiest, groggiest, gringo femme they've seen in their lives.

My eyes are half slit and I look about 100 years old.

Anyway, yesterday, we had a really good day getting things we needed and I'm only one step away from being able to make music again.

I just need a keyboard to talk to the computer and make music.  I may have to order online.  Here, they don't have anything that works with midi that I can find.

Hell.  It took me all this time to find a monitor with the correct hookups for my computer.  Everything is old school and about 40 years behind.  But I found the monitor.

I also finally found the synagogue!!

But dammit if they didn't have services, nor did they even have a rabbi.

I emailed Rabbi Laura about the possibility of having someone give me my jew lessons from afar.  She said she had info and would send it.

Papi asks me why I need this, and honestly, I don't have a good answer for it, other than the pride I feel for knowing that my great grandparents escaped the holocaust and I feel the need to redeem my heritage for the sake of all the years it's gone without recognition, as my family kept our heritage a secret.

I suppose I'll have to work extra hard at it, being alone without much instruction.

We all know how I feel about the g*d issue, however, having learned that we really aren't supposed to say g*d's name, it pleases me.

Besides, I'm free to talk to my angels and my Great Grandmother as my spiritual guides.

Oh!  I met the woman who gave me the baby shower invite!!!

She's very shy and I couldn't tell if she was just too shy to talk to me, or didn't understand a word I was saying, but she really didn't say much at all, but she seemed sweet non-the-less.

All I could really do was tell her I would be there, smile the biggest smile of thank you and left, because the silence was way too awkward.

Papi said she's probably not used to gringos being nice and didn't know what to say.

No doubt.  Sometimes, white assholes treat the people awful here.  I want to smack them upside the head.

But I get similar treatment from people who don't like that my Spanish isn't good enough for them.

There's one guy in particular at the hardware store who does that thing people do when someone doesn't understand the language enough.

He yells the words really loud, aggressively and slowly at me, invading the space in my face.

All I do is laugh at him and tell him I'm practicing and will get better, then tell him that people here speak Spanish fast, but he's the fastest one out there, so it's hard for me.

He doesn't care.  He just can't stand helping me, yet he's the guy I always need to talk to.

I'll win his heart over.  You watch.

I now have a new mission.

i make powerful and enjoyable business relationships and many of my business contacts are now my friends

by a thread.

Migraine: Day 13.

Just got back from the doc.

Looks like it's not just any Pain Med Party, but morphine merry-go-round for me for the next few weeks.

17 days until we leave to Casa Paraíso, and I get to feel better.

If I didn't have a light at the end of the tunnel, I'd say shoot me now.

This is what our home looks like right now.

 

Ok.

It looked like that on New Year's Eve.

Now that we're on January 2nd, everything you see strewn around up there is now in it's respective suitcases.

They say migraines are mostly brought on due to stress.

You think?

Does it look stressful to you?

Mania.

I have no words to express how this all feels, so my poor throbbing brain is doing it for me.

I don't even have the energy to entertain my eating disordered thinking.

Instead, I'm just having dreams that I'm obese and can't fit into my clothes, never mind get off the couch.

The 'not getting off the couch' part isn't too far from the truth.

Actually, it is the truth.

I have decided that I'm not making plans anymore.

No point.

I just cancel them now anyway.

Fuck it.

Tears rolled down my face last night when I realized I'd be spending the majority of my time left here, on the La-Z-Boy.

This is not living.

17 days until the real fun begins, and I start to wean off the morphine.

If it sounds like I have nothing to talk about, it's because I have nothing to talk about.

This game is so boring.

Don't take me to pasture just yet.

Wait until I'm in paradise, please.

i am too big a gift in this world to feel self-pity and sadness

We are not amused.

New years resolutions are way too much pressure.

I no longer see the point.

It seems that it's just another opportunity to get mean to myself.

If I want to change something, I do it today.

Not Monday.

Not the first of a month.

Not New Years day.

Today.

What I've found is, that there's less of a burden placed on it as well.

Not to mention, then I can get to berating myself for not doing it much faster.

Yup.  I'm my own worst enemy sometimes.

What I've also found, is there are more opportunities to try again.

Less build up.

Less let down.

This year, my only resolution was to make it through the holiday season without a Hurricane Andréa sighting.

I did pretty good.

The only sugar and wheat I had was Xmas day, and the crankies stuck around for a good few days, but I'm feeling much better now.

I learned last night that my niece is the same as me.

She's a lunatic with sugar.

Everything gets blown out of proportion and she winds up in tears.

That's kinda the reason I don't drink alcohol either.

How many tears in my beers have I seen in my life?!?!

Not to mention, how many times did I look like a leprechaun fighting Irish?!

Instant asshole, just add alcohol.

I still see people cross the street when they see me, thinking I haven't changed.

I feel for all of you out there that feel the need to get your drunk hat on, just because it's New Years.

How many of you will be regretting your actions tomorrow?!?!

Not I.

No, I'll be sitting here nursing my 10 day long migraine.

10 days man!

I'm about ready to pop.

Stick a fork in me, I'm bloody well cooked.

However, being New Year's Eve, I won't be heading to the ER for another Pain Med Party.

No, Papi and I will be sitting here watching the ball drop in New York via TV.

I'll be fighting to keep my eyes open until midnight.

We'll probably have to listen to all our neighbours get as rowdy as possible.

Sound exciting?

Oh, but yes!

Papi and I are nothing but entertainment!

We lead such interesting lives, eh?

That and I'll be filming more of The Countdown.

Did I tell you I'm making a YouTube documentary of our travels?

I will let you know when the first episode is up.

That's partially why I've been writing less.

Learning more about making my doc!

I will film, edit, star and write the music for it.

Papi says he doesn't want to be in front of the camera, but it's mostly been him anyway.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go close my eyes again.

10 day migraine.

10 fucking days.

i have confidence in my body's ability to heal

what's xmas without an ER visit?

So, while I was lying in emergency last night, I came up with a poem for y'all:

'Twas the night before Xmas
and all through the house
all the creatures were stirring,
including the mouse (aka: Sir Bark-a-Lot).

Papi dropped me off
to the ER with care
and all I could think was,
"How bad is my hair?!?"

The nurse gave me drugs
to help ease the pain,
and Papi and I were amazed
that we were here again.

The drugs didn't help,
but at least I felt better,
but damn!  I was cold
as I eyed up my sweater.

I'll go for their cat scan
to check out my head,
but it's just so damn painful
I wish I were dead.

Had me a bit of a migraine from hell.

I guess my pain killers have run their course and my pain had to go somewhere, so up it went to my head.

They pumped me up with morphine, gave me a cat scan to make sure there was no tumour, and sent me on my way.

Merry Xmas, you get a Pain Med Party.

Today, I'm not staggering all over the place and my eyes are open half way, so I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was 24 hours ago.

So, for your Xmas pleasure, I made a video for Papi.

You are entitled to see it.

I threw in a few of my tunes as well, so you may want to have your speakers on.

Or not.  Hehehe.  Just don't tell me that.

No need in breaking my heart, eh?

I hope this day finds you all well.

i fill this day with hope and fill it with joy

Are you happy?

Yesterday, I had quite the day at the building of teeth.

I tripped through the whole bloody concrete tower with my old lady cart.

First, the orthodontist to take out my wires and elastic chain for the dentist.

Next, the dentist to put my crown back on that fell off during my last visit to the orthodontist.

Then up to the surgeon.  This was fun.  Brain injury looked at the floor in my contacts list about twenty times and couldn't figure out which floor to get off at, so I just bounced from floor to floor until I recognized the door.  So, then I had my surgery check up and he showed me my exercises for opening my mouth more.  OUCH.

After that I went back to the orthodontist to get my 2 back brackets put back on, my little hookie thing that holds one of the three elastics I have to wear, and then my elastic chains and wire were put back in.

I fucking hurt. 

I woke up with huge chipmunk cheeks.

I do not feel pretty.

I'm bitchy.

Hurricane Andréa is kicking up a storm and I don't feel like writing anything today.

However, I am going to therapy again today.  Let's see what she pulls out, shall we?

Doesn't feel like it's going to be the best day for me to stay positive.  Today will be work.

When I wake up in pain in both my mouth and my bitch of a back, I know there's going to be a Pain Med Party later on.

Yesterday I didn't need to take any pain killers.  I'll make up for it today.

Right now, I'm just trying to get through my coffee and eggs without screaming.

At anybody.

At anything.

Anyway, enough whining.

I have to go get ready for my 'short bus'.

Then it's off to talk about all the nasty things I've had to deal with in life.

It fucking sucks that we have a bad thing happen, then it's up to us to barf out the demons later.

I hate puking.

I don't want to deal with all this shit.

I was perfectly happy ignoring it and looking to the future, not the past.

However, I suppose if I want a healthy relationship with Papi, I need to work on this stuff.

I really am only doing this for our marriage. 

My love said, "I wish you were doing this for yourself."

Yeah, I'm not really.

Yet, in the end it will benefit me, no matter what.

Even if it feels like crap right now.

Hell!

I got clean and sober to try to make someone else look bad, ...

... long story ... different blab/blob ...

... but after all was said in done, the only person who benefited was little ol' me.

So!

Even if I am only doing this for Papi, it will be good for me none-the-less.

Ok.

My cup of artificial positive thinking has kicked in and I'm ready to fake my happiness until it truly comes back.

i deserve to be happy

Breathe, just breathe ...

I get my jaw surgery tomorrow.

I haven't been too afraid.  People go through it all the time and Papi lived through top surgery, followed by a hysterectomy that was laced with infection from antibiotics.

So, when my love kept asking if I'm stressed out about going under the knife for the past week, I really just shrugged most of the time, "Nah.  Not really."

Until today.

Honestly, it really wasn't until Papi kept reminding me that it's not normal to be so relaxed about surgery.

That's when I said it out loud.

"Only thing I'm afraid of is after the surgery.  I'm afraid I'm going to stop breathing and die."

My love looked at me with big confused eyes, "That's a pretty big fear.  I'd say that's enough to be afraid of."

Yeah, I guess so.

But technically, I'm not afraid of 'the surgery' and I'm not actually afraid to die, because I know dying is peaceful.

I'm afraid of the general anaesthesia.

What if I stop breathing and they don't know?!?!

I guess I would probably listen to the little voice that says, "Hey, Andréa!  If you just drift away now, you could move aimlessly forever, never having to worry about anything ever again!"

I've been thinking about the last time I had a simple anaesthesia, and how my body couldn't remember to breathe on it's own afterward, coupled with my pulse slowing toward a stop.

The voices guaranteeing eternal tranquility were violently smashed by the distant beeping of a machine.

It was so annoying!  I knew that every time the alarm bells went off, the ladies would come in to help me expunge my breath that was stagnant in my lungs.

But I didn't want to breathe!  I wanted to sleep!

I wanted to continue in the bliss of passing away into another realm of reality, with the option of seeing my Dearly Departed Gypsy once more. 

It was harmonious and they just kept fucking up my chill out!

Way to harsh my mellow bitches!!!!!!!

But I suppose they'd be looking at law suits if they just let me toddle off to the great dog park in the sky. 

Plus they were really nice ladies and they probably genuinely wouldn't want me to die.

It was just that I found it quite the nuisance having to continue to breathe and be alive.

As soon as that electronic beast from hell would croon it's song of agitation, I was like a kid being woken for school.  I laid as quiet and still as I possibly could in hopes that the ladies would just leave me be.

They never did.  "Breathe, Andréa, breathe!  There ya go!"

Please, just 10 more minutes?  Isn't there a snooze button on that fucking beeping monster?

Yeah, that's about the only part I'm afraid of tomorrow.

You may not hear from me for a few days.

It's not that I stopped breathing, it's just that I will probably be in a pain med induced coma.

Or a pain med party.

The latter depends on what candies they give me at the hospital.

Besides, you may be bored reading my blog for the next 2 weeks anyway. 

I'm pretty sure all I'll have to bitch about is the liquid diet I'll be thrown into for 2 weeks, followed by a baby food diet the 2 weeks after that.

But I'm not afraid of the surgery.

the more love i put out, the more i receive

Pain Med Party!!!!!!

Hurts to yawn, sneeze, laugh, roll over in bed, get out of bed, lift my coffee cup to have a sip of black goodness, or go over bumps in the car.

Never mind about driving the car.

When my back is at a 9/10 pain level, I can't even press in the clutch.  It's about the only time in life that I wish for an automatic vehicle.

Anyway, I was too busy having a pain med party yesterday to write to 'you', my imaginary friend.

I'm getting a head start into my writing before I slip off into la-la-land with my new best friend, "Whoop Ass Butter".

It's the perfect medicine for intensely acute days.

Sometimes it's difficult to find the silver lining in nasty times, but I now have one when my back is bitter and biting.

Pain Med Party!!!!!!!!!

Hey, I'm taking them responsibly and only when needed, but as a former wake 'n bake femme, I do have to say, I'm starting to feel a lot less guilty about enjoying my 'down time'.

Yup.  It's definitely a silver lining.

Now when my back goes out, I'm not frustrated about what I can and cannot do.  I just smile and do what I can with a little help from my MC Guru and the pain relief I deserve after almost 3 years.

And now with my most recent flare up, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Roseanne's Nuts are the perfect companions.  I save them up for these days and have a marathon of smiles.

Even if it does hurt to laugh, it's better than hurting from crying.  It's a much better reaction.

Music sounds a little better.  Playing my piano or my bass is possible and for this I am the most grateful.

On codeine, percocet, or morphine, I would look at my piano or bass and think, "I should go play that," then I continue to stare at it for a little while and realize that hurting for the sake of filling my musical heart is not a benefit.

Well, now it is.

I guess doing the video was what put me in to this predicament.  Well, not so much just the video, but perhaps the fact that I think I have superpowers when the pain killers kick in and I washed the tub.

Boy, did I ever get the reprimand riot act from my lawyer's paralegal.  "What were you thinking?!?  I see you hunched over and in pain every time I see you and you washed your tub?!?  Your health is much more important than a clean tub."

Touché madam, how right you are.

But dammit!  The Yank, our honorary room mate, is coming this weekend, and I'm pretty sure the tub hasn't been washed since the last time she was here.

Housekeeping is reserved for 'good' days, and cleaning that damn tub puts me into a seized state every time.

in·san·i·ty

 [in-san-i-tee]

noun, plural in·san·i·ties.

1. the condition of being insane;  a derangement of the mind. Synonyms: dementia, lunacy, madness, craziness, mania, aberration.

2. Law . such unsoundness of mind as frees one from legal responsibility, as for committing a crime, or as signals one's lack of legal capacity, as for entering into a contractual agreement.

3. Psychiatry . (formerly) psychosis.

4. a. extreme foolishness; folly; senselessness; foolhardiness: Trying to drive through that traffic would be pure insanity.

b. a foolish or senseless action, policy, statement, etc.: We've heard decades of insanities in our political discourse.

There's a saying in those anonymous rooms for drunks: "The definition of insanity is repeating the same action, over and over again, expecting different results."

I'm definitely one of 'those', and I'm not so good at acceptance.

have you figured that out already?!

I refuse to acknowledge the fact that I'm permanently screwed up from the motorcycle accident.

I have had such high hopes that I'll be back to the body I had before.  My 'normal'.

It's time to start accepting that this is my new 'normal', and it's time to hire someone to wash the tub.

Papi won't do it.  It's not in his repetoire.

My love's strong suit is DIY projects, cleaning the kitty litter, and doing all the laundry, so that there's piles of it for me to fold.

I'm staring at it right now.

It is sprawled along the ottoman as if the laundry basket just puked up a big hairball.

I think I'll wait for the pain killers to kick in before I attempt folding, or perhaps I'll actually take care of my back today and do fuck all.

That sounds good to me.