i need help.

Your Sunday Sillies YouTube show:

I wish life were as silly as it seems on these videos.

I tend not to tape a lot of the real deal for these videos, but I will start to.  No point in calling it the live version of the blog if it doesn't reflect it, no?

If you're a Facebook friend, I'm stepping away from the toxicity for a week or so, but I'll be back to post next weeks YouTube show.  I need to only speak to close friends right now while I try to get better.

If you're an avid blog reader, you know I can't stay away from getting my emotions out here, so I'll be writing, but there won't be any posting to Facebook for the time being.  You can add me on G+ or Twitter if you want reminders, or feel free to come back on your own accord with your own memory of me here.

... i want to fade away ...

I have great gratitude for my texting system on this computer to get a hold of my baby sister and my Eternal Friend, and I'm adding a few more who have iPhones so that I can have someone to contact when I feel I'm falling again, or when I need to be honest about the thermonuclear meltdown that is Hurricane Andréa.

Fitting, that there is an actual Hurricane Andréa as we speak.

When I have bad energy going on, the whole world gets to experience it.  Sorry about that folks.  I have SOME power, don't I?

Yesterday was the most difficult as I was in panic attack mode for about 6 hours straight.  Hyperventilating, I couldn't walk very far, because my lack of breath stole my strength.

But that didn't stop me from getting to the kitchen.

The day before, cutting my arm stopped my tears.

It didn't work yesterday.  I tried on my leg, but to no avail.

I even went as far as using a serrated knife in hopes that it would go deeper and I would bleed out the pain of tears.

It didn't work.  All it left me with are a bunch of painful cuts and welts.

Papi got a little angry when he saw them.  He hadn't seen the first ones because I wouldn't really let him get close enough to me to see them.

But he grabbed my arm in anger of the realization that I'm a hell of a lot sicker than he thought.

Well Papi, if I have to watch you harm yourself, then you get to watch me harm myself too.

I took more of Papi's clonazepam to stop what felt like lung convulsions, because I came to the conclusion that hurting myself isn't helping matters.

I'll try not to hurt myself anymore.  I just need some peace.

Today, I thought I would water my fruit trees and garden at 8 a.m. without any chance of kids finding me, but Our Favourite was at the gate.

I was able to hide behind the new casita until he got bored and left.  I made the house look like we were not up, but that the dogs were in the yard without us.  Yes, once again I am held hostage in my prison away from the beauty of the outside world.

Even in my tears yesterday he wouldn't leave.  I was crying so hard and he just tugged at my arm wanting my attention.  I said, "No friends today!!!  Today is a very bad day!!"  Which is an understatement.  I am in full throws of the Pit of Doom.

Children don't get it, but at least he didn't see me while I hid behind the casita today.

Papi said he was moving into the casita, then changed his mind.  "Why should I have to?  This is my house too."

Then I found his stash of alcohol he had hidden.  I threw it on the bed and asked for a divorce.

Later, I asked him if he was drinking and using pills because he WANTS me to leave.  "Do YOU want a divorce?"

No he didn't.  So I told him that I would suffer through his drinking, but there were going to have to be some 'rules' in place.

You drink?  You do it outside, never around me.  You are alone or you can knock yourself out with the other alcoholic, Mr. Gummy, in the village.

You are drunk?  Do not bring your stench of musty, rotting, repugnant, day-old alcohol smell into the bed.  It's enough to make me puke.  Sleep elsewhere when you are offensive and fetidly rancid.

You pass out in the pool?  I'll still drag you out, because I love you too much to lose you to death.

You kill yourself from drinking?  I'll pull your dried, brittle bones from the ground and lie in them every night so that I'm never away from you.

I look at the dried blood on my cuts and wish that it were simple enough to bleed out the tears that feel like they flow through my veins.

All I'm left with are welts and scabs.  No relief.  I need some peace in my heart.

I've begged the angels to help me with this, but I'm not feeling like they're responding.  So, could someone please send me yours?

I really need help right now.

i forgive myself for any and all past mistakes

you will never win to addiction

I feel like death.

I couldn't eat yesterday.

All I could do was drink ginger tea, lime water, coconut water.

I just wanted to settle my stomach, but it still didn't happen.

He asked me, "Why are you so angry?"

Because I know that when someone tries to win over addiction, they will always lose.

Papi made his choice.

He 'should be able to have a beer every few days' without the consequence of me going into full on P.T.S.D.

He has quite blatantly chosen alcohol over me.

It's not like It hasn't happened before.  We always lose to addiction.

I had to watch someone fade away from heroin, and when I gave the ultimatum: the drugs or me, guess who lost?

We can never win.

I'm angry because I've lost.

I've lost the sober person I married 3 years ago.

I now have more pain to look forward to.

"Can't we just see how it goes instead of jumping to the worst case scenario?"

I've already seen worst case scenario.  I already know what comes next.

He says he won't get drunk in the pool and pass out, or go home with strangers, not knowing where he is or who he is with, again.

Well, the truth is, when you're a drunk, you can't make those decisions.

So, I lose.

Again.

I see this very much like a repeat of the past.

We repeat the same mistakes, until we get it right, don't we?

Perhaps the first time he drank and he wound up sobbing in the gutter in the DTES and I left to keep myself safe from the pain?  Perhaps that was supposed to be my only heartache with his addiction.

He said he would never do it again.  That he was done with the drinking.  That I could trust him.

But instead of learning from my past I've relived more pain.

I'll stick around for even more I'm sure.

I got so angry for my never ending tears to accompany my loss, while I was doing dishes, I had cleaned a knife and I dug it across my forearm about 8 times just to punish myself even more.

Yes.

It's the first time since I was in my 20's that I cut myself.

Not much.

Just enough to stop the tears.

They stopped.

Then I went a bit manic; house is cleaned, seeds are planted, bathroom is cleaned, laundry is done, microwave combined with wall and counter are scrubbed clean with Borax and PineSol, as is the stove and toaster oven.

There's more that I did.

I can't remember everything, because I was in a haze of trying to keep myself busy so I didn't cry anymore.

I did it right up until 10:30.  Then my body finally told me I had to lie down.

And what happened?

I started to cry.

"Why are you so angry?"

Because my love, you don't realize it, but you're leaving me.  I'm sure you'll have lots of fun drinking with the other neighbourhood drunk, Mr. Gummy.

So, I have a choice.  Stay here and live with emotional pain of losing someone to their addiction, or go back to Vancouver and live with physical pain of the cold weather.

Either way, I've already lost.

I suppose I'll choose the emotional.

It's easier, I've had it all my life.

i have a wonderful partner and we are both happy and at peace.

Papi is a thug.

Of course, when we see someone we love, we see them in a much different light than those who don't know them.

To most people, I seem like the sweetest, most innocent person around.

I've got them all fooled.

Well, there was Papi, coming back from doing something while I was patiently waiting in the car, ...

... sorry, no details because my brain isn't giving them to me ...

... and I saw what some people see.

Thug.

He's put on a few pounds in the last year, which is great!

Not that he was too thin or anything, but it means that his body on the whole is finally healing from C Difficile.

... ah for fucks sakes!!! ... i JUST spilled coffee on one of my last 'un-spilled' white tees i own ... aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!! ...

He couldn't keep anything in his gut for more than 20 minutes it seemed, but now he's keeping it in and eating like a madman!

I'm so happy that he's put on weight.

Papi, not so much.

As for me, I'm not impressed that the pain killers I've been on have given me a dose of the 'pharmaceutical poof'!

Anyway, I digress.

So, there he was coming out of the cat clients house, ...

... ooooh!  i knew if i didn't think about it, it would come!! ...

... and I saw it.

Thug.

Tattooed from knuckle to neck, hair cut of a marine and a nice dinner shirt that is at least a size too small for him.

If I didn't know him, I may look at him from a different perspective.

Instead I just giggled and realized that nobody is going to mess with him.

We were at Xmas lunch with the 97 year old, Alzheimer's afflicted G'ma, and her 98 year old, dementia stricken sister didn't recognize Papi.

They kept saying who he was.

As in 'was'.

Old school.

Old name, old pronoun etc., because it's the only way she could remember this person in front of her.

Poor old fart kept saying, "No!  That man!  I'm talking about HIM!" as she'd point at Papi again.

I'm sure she wasn't impressed that some asshole brought a thug to lunch!

Papi would never be mistaken for a female now.

When I was making his Xmas present video, I saw him before the male transformation.

These are two completely different individuals.

I love them both.

I still miss my old butch and those perfect Butch Tits every now and then, but right now, I'm just impressed that I'm married to a thug.

I love thugs.

We all know they're just soft teddy bears who would cry at the drop of a hat, don't we?

i am the perfect weight for 'me'

let's make a deal.

So, Papi comes home, bright and early from a long graveyard shift, and announces, "Ok.  We need to make a will."

Fair enough.

We now own property together, and I've been given the green light to start a retirement savings plan that is for people with disabilities.

It's really cool!

I'll tell ya, it isn't too often the government will actually give us money, so I jumped on it.  They will actually match up to $3,500 I put in.

So we did some wrangling with our finances and got'er did!

Not to mention, Papi has the nest egg from his partial early inheritance.

Oh, and the fact that we're taking some big risks soon is another reason we perhaps should be thinking about it.

So, I agreed, "Yeah, we need a will."

But then he continued, "If you cheat on me or leave me, I get The Mrs."

Not the house.

Not the RRSP, or the nest egg.

The Mrs.

He believes that he loves that cat more than I do.

Let me tell you, with the fucking animal kingdom we have to deal with in Our Closet of 454 sq. ft, she really is the only good one.

Perhaps, it's because she's the only girl and the rest of the orangutans are boys?

... like we need to ponder the nurture vs. nature theory ...

It's just her and I in this male soup.

Anyway, he really only wants to make a will because he wants The Mrs.

Now, the other half that made me giggle, was the 'fooling around' or 'leaving him' part.

People just don't get the depth of my monogamy.

I am probably the most monogamous person on the planet.

Honestly.

Once I fall in love, there is only one person my heart is given to and with all the P.T.S.D. this femme has to deal with, 'fooling around' isn't taken lightly in my books.

No, there has to be trust in my bed.

I'm lucky in the fact that even though I've had numerous partners cheat on me, I've never been jaded by it and turned into a cheater myself.

I just kept on keepin' on until I found the one that wouldn't cheat.

So, Papi, you're safe there, and I trust you like nobody else.

As for the leaving thing.

Did you not hear the first part?  I mate for life.  I've only left because I wasn't treated like I deserve to be, or I haven't found what I want in a relationship.

Seriously.

Do you not see how much we've endured since the beginning of our relationship, not to mention the past few years of all we've toughed out?

Oh, I think you know I'm not going anywhere.

I'm pretty sure it was only a joke about the will.

Besides, this isn't a will we're talking about here.

We're talking about a contract or a post-nup.

Ok.

Here it is in black and white for the world to witness.

"I, Andréa Hector-Brown, do attest that if I ever leave or cheat on my dearest Papi, I will relinquish all rights to The Mrs."

There ya go baby.

Oh how I love you, Papi.

i am loved

check mate, papi!

"Why would you do this to me?!?!"

"Because you wave your penis at me all the time."

Papi just doesn't understand the depth of my P.T.S.D.

It may look like I am laughing when he leaves that plastic one eyed monster lurking beneath items, but it's a laugh of fear.

I am one of 'those' who laughs nervously.

If I'm laughing too much, chances are I'm on edge.

When I first meet people they just think I'm always happy.

Nope.

I'm scared shitless of strangers.

People are capable of a lot of damage to one another.

They scare me.

As people get to know me, they see that I'm really quite mellow and shy.  I just overcompensate amongst newbies.

So, yeah, when those Plastic Penes are coming at me, mi esposo just doesn't understand that I'm actually quivering from flashbacks of past predators.

My way of making light and protecting myself is to make it seem like it's funny.

I deal with a lot of life's challenges through humour.

If I don't laugh, I'll cry.

If I cry, I have snot running down my face and my eyes swell, making it look like I've been in the ring with Mike Tyson for a moment.

That's just not sexy.

So, the torment I endure from my love's penis antics is less than pleasing, even if I do trust him.

I'm constantly saying, "Why do you do this to me?!?!"

Yesterday was Papi's turn to shudder in terror.

We all have our fears.  Anyone who says they don't is lying.

Papi has severe social anxiety, whereas I'm perfectly comfortable in the limelight.

One of my journey's of late has been to explore my Jewish heritage and Judaism.  I feel that my family keeping it a secret for so long is not honouring my ancestors struggles when they escaped the holocaust and fled to Canada.

I have had a great instinctual pull toward Judaism my whole life, but I didn't know why.

When I learned the reason for this connection, I searched for my people and I've been welcomed by an extremely positive Reformed Judaism community.

In fact, they're so inclusive, that even though I've only been attending the Sabbath every Saturday since this past spring, they've decided to give me a Farewell Blessing Ceremony.

It blows my mind that I could be included into this kind of love.

Anyway, my point is, they created this opportunity to send us off, and asked if I wanted to invite friends to be there to add to the awesome positive energy that will be bestowed upon us.

I didn't really tell Papi about it, because I know him too well.

If I had've told him, he would have put on his big boy whitey tighties and said, "Oh, HELL NO!!!!!"

Hence, I went ahead and did it anyway.

Now he's going to have attention.

Hehehehehe.

Sometimes, our marriage seems a bit like a back and forth game of 'got'cha!'

Your move, Papi.

And now, I'm off to go snorkeling to go find The Hotel Shark.

i enjoy my affluence and share it appropriately

Goodbye.

Today is the official day where Papi has to say goodbye to the house.

I can't imagine how he feels, because I've been so transient all my life.  It seems I'm constantly saying goodbye and starting anew.

I really don't know what it's like to have that kind of stability torn from me, but I can say, that even as I think about the home I was in with my love, g'ma and all the critters, that my tummy ripples a bit with loss.

I suppose it's because I have to say goodbye the home my love created for me and it's the longest I've ever lived somewhere.

Papi, you showed me love I've never experienced before in that house.  It's so sad to say goodbye to that, even if we have amazing dreams for the future.

I can't imagine how it feels to leave the castle you were born in, not to mention the never ending memory of loss of your mother at the tender age of 10.  I'm sure that's more than a flutter of sadness.

Somehow though, I know that the spirit of your mother, Mr. Moustache, g'pa, and all the other critters I never got to meet, including the hamster buried under the cherry tree in the back yard, are all coming with us to the Dominican Republic.

I feel them with us even in Our Closet.  I swear to god I see movement out of the corner of my eye in this space.  Maybe there's another spirit, but I swear it's Mr. Moustache jumping from desk to chair occasionally.

I sense them, and I know it's because they love you so much, they would follow you anywhere you go.  So would I.

Goodbye, house.

Goodbye to all your growth that brought you to this point, Papi!

Goodbye to everything you learned from your elders.

Goodbye to the tangible feeling of cool doorknobs on your hands and a solid oak floor beneath your feet.

Goodbye to the water everywhere no matter how hard we tried to keep things dry.

Goodbye to the flowers you lovingly planted for our wedding.

Goodbye to the memories of everyone, including the Mariachi band who helped celebrate our lives coming together as one, the wedding cake on the floor, and the silver hearts that we found in the carport and house right up to the last sweep we did on Monday.

Goodbye to the birds, who trusted us enough to eat from our bird feeders, allowing us to witness their beautiful life every day.

Goodbye to our bedroom, which we had to build our kingsize bed into, taking up the entire room.  We didn't care.  It was a true bedroom.

Goodbye to the carport g'pa lovingly built with his own two, hard working hands.

Goodbye to the freezing pipes we had to use a blow dryer on in the winter.

Goodbye to the ceilings so low, that when my brain injured body couldn't walk, the ceilings were my cane.

Goodbye to the oak trees that line the streets, giving us gifts of acorns, falling leaves like confetti, and sap that you have to chisel off your car.

Goodbye to all the house modifications you made, which gave you practise for the home of our future.

Our first home together now has to leave, and our second home together is a proud moment of the first step to moving on.

Our third is the charm, and hopefully, we get to live there until we're grey and wrinkled from the loving, healing sun.

'goodbye' is an opportunity for a beautiful memory

clearing things up.

So, yesterday, I was really hurried in my writing and was also on a hefty dose of pain killers first thing in the morning and I created a bit of a wave in TransLand.

I believe the combination was a bad mix, and I unintentionally hurt people by my words.

I hope to clear things up for you with the 3 topics that have been brought up on my Facebook page both publicly and in private messages.

topic #1

I was speaking about how I am attracted to butches, but that I see I am also attracted to trans guys.

I am not attracted to bio-males, where as some women and men are.

We are all different, and I brought up my baby sister, when first faced with my coming out of the closet, was trying to learn from me.

I used my past of dating only butches to segue to the present and people thought I was saying my love is a butch.

My love is no longer a butch, and I'm still as attracted to him as I was the day I married that butch.

Presently, I am seeing that I am attracted to people with multi-leveled energies, like my love.  I am attracted to the beauty in people's vast differences in being.

topic #2

When I said 'people ... blah blah fucking blah ... freaks', I was really talking about the zealots who like to picket our lives with their signs of Jesus burned to a crisp on a cross at our Pride Parade in the great U S of A.

'They' call gays and lesbian freaks.  'They' call trans people freaks.  'They' call me a freak because I'm attracted to butches, and trans guys.

They can fuck off, because from what I've seen at Gender Odyssey, there's a whole lot of love and acceptance in this world, and their hatred will soon be squashed by the love the world has.

Really, all I wanted to say was, I'm in that boat with all the people I fit in with.  We're all in this together, and it has nothing to do with what anyone else sees us as.

For instance, I am not a 'straight' woman, but I'm seen as such.  Papi is not a woman, and he is not seen as such, luckly for him.

He is seen as the male he has always felt was there, and I'm attracted to my love, but I was afraid I wouldn't be.

I found attraction for another person who carried that energy.  A male being who had a spark of different energy from another part of him.

That made me feel so good, that I could recognize this, and I tried to write about it.

Not everyone would be attracted to the same people I am and I do not think that everyone who is trans has both energies.

I am at peace with my queerness, and see the pattern in my life where, in THE PAST I've had so much attraction for trans guys when they were a 'butch'.

There is no malice meant from my post yesterday, but there were feelings that I had insulted people, because I didn't see others as the beings they are, which is incorrect. 

topic #3

Now.  About the 'tranny' word.  I will continue to stick to my guns and call dykes, fags and trannies as such in a general way, as long as they don't want to be personally called that.

Papi likes to be called that.  The dudes I met at Gender Odyssy like to be called that.

Some people don't and I would never call them that, yet still, as general blabbing here on my blog, I am not using the word in a derogative manner, but more like I would use dyke or fag.

We have taken back dyke and fag, and we use it with adoration and pride.  Why the hell can't tranny be taken back and used for strength?!

I'm not spitting venom when I use the word, and I use it pretty much the same as I would use dyke or fag.

new business/bonus topic #4

Perhaps I shouldn't write my blog in a hurry on pain killers?

I hope I cleared things up from yesterday, and if not and you're still pissed at me, well, as much as I love you stopping by, all I can say is, you are the one making the choice to be here reading.

today's daily mantra comes from my gratitude buddy:

mastakes teach you important lessons.  every time you make one, you are one step closer to your goal.

Hell of Halitosis!

It's such a beautiful day.

Not just the weather, but because I get to see my love for the afternoon.

Our date has no schedule or timed itinerary, and I don't care.  I just want to be with Papi no matter what.

Our day will involve a visit with the G'ma, who is still giving us the guilt trip for 'abandoning and neglecting her, and forcing her into a home while we take over her house'.

... you know the drill ...

Anyway, Papi now has 7 days of healing.  I'm 7 days happier.

Yet still, I just want to go home NOW.  I want to renege on my 'rule' of not being there for 2 weeks until his socks are fully pulled up.

Yet, I won't, because I'm too afraid of what that will bring.

I miss my Fuzzy Family so much.  It's nice to have Java the Mutt here for a distraction, but he's not my babies.

The last time I went to the house, The Mrs. gave me the cold shoulder.

There is nothing more heartbreaking than an Fuzzy Family member snubbing you.

It adds to the sadness.

To know that this whole thing is affecting each and every one of us just sucks.

Such is the life of us addicts.  We really do affect everyone around us.

It's made me realize that a lot of my pain around Papi using is really not about my love having a weak time, it's my own P.T.S.D.

When I had to leave the home with the heroin addict I was in love with, it was torture.

I grieved for 2 years over the fact that I couldn't help her, couldn't change her, and couldn't suffer watching her disintegrate to dust.

She didn't really wither, however, she just cleaned up her act a bit so that I looked like I was lying about her addiction.

That created a whack-load of Hen Peckers who to this day believe that I was only trying to cause trouble and make her look bad.

When I had to leave mi esposo on his night of the big ending, it was like reliving that hell all over again, and there I was.  In agony once more.

I had to leave the addict again.  I believed that Papi would spiral down and that would be it for our marriage.

I believed the worst.

It's hard not to when you're living in my brain with my life experiences.

I've lived the worst and come out the other end every time, but knowing the pain I had to endure to get out of the Pit of Doom was so deep, I was terrified.

I'm grateful I have medication for my chemical imbalance, and I'm able to get out of the hell a little faster than I used to, but it's still not comfortable.

Nor is it good for my breath.

Yeah.

I get a nice heaping load of halitosis when I get stressed.  My stomach can't handle the acid and out it comes, wafting through my mouth like great wads of green stench you'd only imagine from the Grinch.

Or the Malboro.

Last night someone told me how bad my breath was and I felt like crying, dying, and crawling under a rock, but I couldn't.

I was there to sell tickets to the public for the Queer Arts Festival.

Person after person would come up and I'd be speaking with my mouth covered, or I tried to talk as loud as I could from as far away from them as possible.

I felt embarrassment like you could never imagine.

However, I know that this is the deal and I carry my toothbrush around with me everywhere anyway for my brace face, so I just brush a whole lot and try my best to keep my distance.

Good thing I have dogs in my life.  They don't care about my Buffalo Breath.

Apparently, neither does Papi.

i heal all issues affecting my self-confidence

New Roomate

I don't have too much time to write today.

Papi and I need to take both of our canine Fuzzy Family members to the vet.

... please let the golden be ok ... we don't need bad news right now!! ...

Other than that, we're seeing each other in our happy neutral places.

We also have a date on Sunday.

I must say as well, both of us talking on the phone until 2 a.m., or until they die is resembling our dating days.

I'm pretty happy and I think these 2 weeks of Papi pulling up his socks will go quickly and we'll be back to our lovely, happy marriage.

So, I just wanted to share with you that I have a new roommate while Papi gets better.

Here he is!!!!!!!

 

Java the Mutt.

He likes blueberries.

Off I go to tend to the Fuzzy Family.

i am courageous

2 weeks.

My eyes have gone down a bit.

I finally stopped turbo crying when I had an actual telephone conversation with Papi.  It was good for me to let him know in voice what my terms of condition are.

1. I will go home when he's 2 weeks clean and sober and not a day sooner.

2. I will not live with an active addict or alcoholic, not even for mi esposo. 

3. I love him

Still, the love of my life is not exempt from these conditions and I will never live with that bullshit again.

I've done it too many times in my struggling life, and this is not the way my life with my love was supposed to be.

He has made his mind up about being clean 'n sober, because he had such a bad experience the other day, and doesn't want to have that life of crying on a curb in the streets of the DTES.

One of his messages said, "I feel like an addict again."

It's the lies coming from alcohol if you think you can control it.

Of course you can!

Until it gets it's grasp on your meaty tendrils and then you're alllllll his.  That's when nothing matters more than another drink.

The wife you love so much doesn't matter, even if she's crying at home alone, begging you to take a cab and come home, because the drink has a hold on you.

No, you won't take that cab.

No, you won't come home.

I know this.

I've lived this.

Both from my end and from the end of the person who has loved me, yet left my heart dangling in agony, because their addiction had a hold of them and I no longer mattered.

There is nothing harder than watching someone you love kill themselves in front of your eyes, and having to leave love because of it.

Nothing.

There is no grieving like it, because you don't get closure when they're still breathing.  There's nothing you can do to save them, you can only save yourself, and watch them bob in your wake.

I have a lovely friend who has given me her home for a few weeks, while I watch mi esposo get better day by day.

I've never really believed in prayer, but I feel like it's what I'm doing now.

I pray my love makes himself better so I can go back to my beautiful marriage.

I pray I have the strength to believe that our lives together will be ok.

I pray the tears I cry as I write this will dissipate after I've written it all out and can go find coffee.

I pray for the dreams we have mustered to come to reality.

I pray for Papi.

I am grateful he sees the brutality of addiction so quickly.  

Most people have to go a little further to find it, and sometimes, that little further is too much to be able to see the crumbs to follow back home.

I miss him so much. 

I haven't seen him since I left for Seattle on Friday at 8:45 a.m.

I have a beautiful friend who has forced me to eat berries.

It was a good choice.  They're an addiction that is good for you.

I am grateful for these berries, the outpouring of friendship, support and love we have both received during this, and the optimism that I will be able to go home and have my marriage.

I would be very grateful if I had my lovely coffee.

And my Fuzzy Family.

And my life with Papi back to normal.

i have faith in my future

Gender Odyssey!

I'm at Gender Odyssey!

Remember last year, when I was supposed to go, but performing put me on a stretcher to the hospital instead?

Well, here's a little bit of irony for ya.

They couldn't give me a refund, so I had to put the money toward the following year instead.  So, I decided I would go.

My Person and I packed up our stuff and left our trans loves behind to celebrate Vancouver's Pride Weekend without us.

Now, in retrospect, I see that perhaps I should have just swallowed the ticket price, because my dearest Papi is home sweating through the tough process of bartering and bargaining for the house sale.

Anyway, here I am in Seattle.

I made it here.

About half way through the ride down, my bitch of a back decided to go into a fit and is in full seize.

Now, here I lie in the hotel room, doing the pain killer nod and realizing I'm yet again stuck flat out on my back.

We went for our sign in anyway, and as I hobbled and limped about, I had a chance to see so many people who have so much love for this conference.

Inclusion everywhere.

There is a beautiful air of comfort, knowing there's so many more people out there who understand one another.

Absolutely amazing.

My favourite was sharing a shuttle and an elevator with a family, whom of which, one, or possibly both, of their children is transgender.

We couldn't figure out their story, because we haven't seen them speak yet, but to me, being in their presence was amazing.  A family who loves their children enough to allow them a space to be who they feel they are in their soul.

I proudly placed my little identification 'happy faces' on my name tag.

A yellow 'happy face' sticker is for 1st time attendees, and an orange one is for friends, significant others, family and any other ally I've missed.

However, I haven't had a chance to use the damn pass, because I'm stuck lying here on the queen size bed in this hotel room.

Nice enough place, let me tell you, I recommend them 100%!

Here!  Check them out!

Anyway, as I write this, Papi is on the phone, wheeling and dealing with selling the house.

I am half in and half out of nodsville.

Not to mention, My Person has passed out from too much driving and we both had insomnia last night.

I look forward to giving you an update on the different workshops that I'm hopefully going to make it to tomorrow.

I won't be doing my usual coffee blog, but that's ok!

I'm doing it now and will give you an update tomorrow evening when I have more to talk about with this amazing conference.

Oh.

I realized something.

I saw many handsome trans guys during very the small amount of time we were hanging out in TransLand.

What I realized is, I'm 100% a Tranny Chaser.

I am attracted to trans guys.

And damn if I ain't lucky enough to be married to one of the hottest ones out there.

every day i learn more about myself, and open myself to even more self-exploration

Aping the apes.

A wedding with guns!  Well, the groom had a knife, but the rest of them had guns.

I felt so much for Papi, as it was a difficult social time in the 'man zone'.  He's still learning how to fit in with the bio-males.

He relates more to the women, and sometimes, the man on the arm of a woman will react a little adversely, confusing my love's 'relating' with more than friendly chatter.

My love expressed his feelings about his strife and all I could come up with was, "I think you should just ape them.  Whatever they do, you do."

He had good practise with the suffering addict at our reception table.  That poor soul was so hammered, he just kept giving mi esposo fist bumps along with the occasional, "Dude!  Right?!"

Sometimes, for no reason at all.  He'd just come out of his stupor to join in the conversation for a moment and agree with whatever was being presented at the time.

None-the-less, he was a great practice person for Papi.

My love looked so handsome.  I was proud to be on his arm.

Especially, when the typical 'mean girls' in the parking lot didn't like the fact that my dress was hugging and exposing every curve of my healthy figure.

Oh, how I had my booty out proud yesterday.

I suppose those catty girls didn't like it, and when they were being the usual 'point and gossip bitches', my love silenced them with an aggressive, "Knock it off," in Papi's way of meaning business.

I couldn't be bothered to look and see if they adhered to his warning.  All I cared about was that my love was proud of how I looked as well.

I'm getting more accepting with being seen as the straight couple.  At least we're donned in tattoos, and don't look like the 'normal', conservative couples that were looking toward us with curiosity.

It will definitely make life easier in the Dominican Republic.

On our last visit, I was accosted by homophobic bible thumpers who told me if I prayed, their god would take away my being gay.

It took everything I had not to fight with them.  I know that this will be my biggest challenge when we're there.  The religious zealots are everywhere.

Even at the wedding last night, I had a very difficult time, when before we ate, they gave a prayer for food.

They asked us to stand and bow our heads.  I cringed, sarcastically sighed and rolled my eyes at their 'oh heavenly father' thanks for food.

I would rather thank The Chef Extraordinaire for their hard work.

I seriously just found my ability to understand my own spirituality over the past couple of years.

The accident woke an aspect of my belief system, but when faced with the crap I had to grow up with, I get a rather repugnant taste in my mouth.  Not to mention the little grunts of 'oh for fucks sakes' will sneak out when I'm not paying attention to my mouth.

My love will give me the eye of 'don't be a bad one, honey', coupled with a nudge, that will nip my discourse in the bud.

So, I stood.  I bowed.  I behaved.  Still, I cussed them all in my mind, while concealing it with a smile.  I find it quite offensive that anyone would force another person of a different belief to pray to their god.

That's another reason I'm grateful to have found such connection with Judaism.  Their belief is that you don't actually say 'god's' name.

That's perfectly fine by me.  I'm happy when I don't have to follow the rules of my upbringing.

I remember being knocked upside the head for saying the usual teen phrase of, "Oh my god!" with that valley girl drawl we would all have.

"Don't you use the lords name in vain," I would hear as my head took a whoopin'.

Anyway, I survived their prayers to zombie Jesus and ate their amazing meal, appreciating every bite with my own gratitude for food, and the enjoyment of sharing a beautiful day with two people who allowed Papi and I to hear wedding vows all over again.

I found us nodding our head to some of the words during the service.

For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

Love is all you need.

i feel fulfilled and joyful

shoot me now.

No idea what these feelings are all about.

I suppose it's the absolute upheaval of our lives, but we are both experiencing feelings of anxiety, anger and fear, but have absolutely no idea why.

Usually, we can say we're sad about 'X', scared about 'Y' or angry about 'Z', but neither of us has any idea.

We even fought the other day, and that rarely happens.

We're so preoccupied with The Great DR Purge, that we actually forgot about our wedding anniversary.

Our celebration day was nothing like The One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza.

No, definitely not.

The day before our anniversary, I was at yet another psych evaluation for my court case, and the man asked how long Papi and I had been together.

I asked him, "Well, what's the date?"

He told me it was the 9th.

I chuckled and said, "Well, that would mean we've been married for 2 years tomorrow."

I was shocked that it just came and surprised me like that!

Then on our actual anniversary, we were so busy doing what we've been doing for the past few weeks, that we actually forgot again.

Papi jokingly made a remark about our day, and we both realized we should at least go out for dinner.

Oh, we did.

I ate the 2nd worst allergy on my list; wheat flour.

Not the best idea, but when you're in the full throws of anxiety and every other fucking emotion that we can think of, having a nice big plate of warm bread gave me a great feeling of 'fuck-it-all'.

Yeah.

The bloating, crankiness and lethargy are nothing compared to what my dark circles under my eyes and zits are going to do for my self-esteem.

Not to mention, someone posted a picture of me performing bass from 2000, and I saw how I used to look when I was active in my anorexia.

I'm much healthier now, but eating wheat encrusted onion rings, 10 oz of beef, a whack-load of rice and bread is not going to help my brain with the pain of seeing myself much thinner in a picture than I see myself in the mirror.

So, seriously.

So many fucking emotions I couldn't even begin to tell you.

If I knew what was going on in my mind, I'd take measures to help myself like I always do.

Yet, when I can't figure it out, how the hell am I supposed to stop the insanity?

I'm on full binge right now.

Not the best way to start the summer.

For fucks sakes!

Our sun has finally come out, and I'm ready to wear my little summer outfits.

However, I'm feeling like a beluga whale.

I'm also feeling a bit like the honey badger who wants to run off with a nice juicy snake in her mouth.

Yes, a little homicidal and a little more than peckish.

A little more like I just want to sleep in a coma and wait for all this to be over.

Then there's sadness.

I'm still grieving for the friendship lost, and the musical past I've been disowned from.

I have to keep thinking about the musical beginnings I'll have in the Dominican Republic with all the amazing musicians I'm going to meet there.

New beginnings are wonderful, so why am I so freaked out?!?!?!

i am strong

what IS that?!?!

So, I went to a bridal shower.  You know, stagette?

The groom to be was out eating steak while got his bride hammered.

Thing is, I don't drink, so I had to give all my drinks to the bride!

Only fair, no?

We played a drinking game where we had to answer a card with all the disgraceful things we've done in the past.

Of course, I'd done 19 out of the 20 things, so the dear bride was getting in a lot of drinks for me.

Funniest part was, the reason I had done all those things was because I was always drunk.

Anyway.

We also got these awesome little goodie bags filled with candy.

I can't eat the candy, but I got some interesting gifts in the bag.

I got a pirate puzzle!

Too funny, eh?

But there's another one.

This.

What the hell is this?

Look, it has a spot for some dudette to ride in front.

Then there's this little 'spine' thing that moves when you rub underneath.

Here's how far the 'spine' thing moves:

Kinda pointless, no?

Then from the rear, it sorta looks like a truck.

So, seriously, what the fuck is this thing?

It's beyond words.

No clue.

If you can tell me exactly what it is, I'll mail it to ya.

Oh.

I also got a camel.

Look at the gems you get from a stagette!

life brings many surprises

omfg to the power of 10

So, I haven't been able to talk to you about this yet.

I think I needed to process it out loud with a few friends before I jumped on here to blob/blab about it.

There's so much emotion around it all, that I don't even know where to begin.

Let's start with G'ma.  She's been accepted into a nursing home August 1st.

This brings up so much for Papi.  My love feels immense guilt about us not being able to care for the old bird on our own.

I have to be honest, I feel a lot of guilt too.  Even though, as a couple, we've taken care of the old fart for 4 years while we lived in this dark basement, I still feel bad that it's time for us to start our adventure of married life together.

Most people, when they get married, embark on their lives together and start making memories.  We haven't been able to do this, because our lives have not been our own.  Our lives have been about taking care of poopy pants upstairs.

G'ma is really needing this though.  She's not able to be alone at all and really needs so much more than we can give her.

We have to watch everything she does, lock away the cookies, booze, pills and hearing aid batteries, not to mention monitor her eating.  We have to remind her to eat her meals.

Occasionally, she'll ask for her sherry at 10 a.m. and I have to be the parent and remind her that it's not the right time of day for her to take a nip at the bottle.

It really is a full time job, and I'm not capable of too much when my bitch of a back starts her fucking whining.

G'ma doesn't quite get that when I'm in a state of pure ouch, I'm not able bodied during that time.

Point is, the month after she's in her home, the house goes up for sale.

When the house sells, Papi and I will go home shopping in the DR!

Then I may have to come back and waste away my dream life, awaiting trial for my court case with a bunch of folks who don't realize that I've paid my insurance for years to be protected in the case of an accident.

They feel the need to say, "Nope.  You don't get to be taken care of after being hit on your motorcycle, donned with brain injury and lifelong pain, even though you paid for the security of it.  Nope.  We don't want to give you the support you paid for."

In any other business, this would be called false advertising.

However, that's a different story I don't need to get into, because I'd rather think about the good things in my life and getting better.  All that stuff is up to my lawyer.

My job is to keep working at getting better.  No money in the world will take away what Papi and I have had to go through with this accident.

Anyway, this means that the process of The Great DR Purge has switched into high gear, and I started my Spanish lessons last night. 

I can't be going there with broken Spanish, especially when I try to say, "I'm hungry," but it comes out as, "I have man."

It was soooooo cool to be able to put all my vocabulary into sentences last night.

I know I won't remember most of it, because I need a lot of repetition with this residual post-concussive trauma, but at least getting started will help me learn my grammar for when we get there.

Anyway, back to the purge.

What stays/goes?

What the hell are we going to do with all this stuff?!?!?!  Massive Garage Sale Gala is what.

Yet the whole point of this blob/blab of the day is, it's heart pounding excitement mixed with debilitating fear!

The unknown is coming closer!

The adventure of a lifetime is walking up our driveway, and she's got a basket of thrills to share with us, complete with a saucy smile from ear to ear that says, "Ooooh, Nelly are you in for a blast!!"

She kinda looks a little psychotic to me, but that's cool.  I can handle psychotic.

... and now i know how to shoot a gun in case she gets outta hand ...

Still, it's hard to decide which emotion to feel at which time.

Guilt?  Joy?  Fear?  Trepidation?

Yes.  All of the above.

life is a thrilling amusement park ride

just for today ...

As I sit in this little coffee shop in the downtown core and people watch, I can't help but think about 2 days ago.

First thing in the morning, sometimes even before my 'wake up and run to the washroom' tinkle, I have to take care of the old bird upstairs.

Really, it's so I don't forget.

I walk my zombie self, complete with watery eyes and bad breath, to do the routine before I eagerly get back down the stairs to make my coffee.

The other day, one of the first things G'ma said was, "Do you know what today is?"

I answered, "Wednesday."  That wasn't what she meant.  I thought she forgot the day, which both of us tend to do as we foolishly check for the mail or newspaper on a Sunday.

Anyway, she told me what the day is.  "I was married 70 years ago today."

My heart broke, melted and rejoiced all at the same time.

"Happy anniversary!" I quickly chirped.

She didn't think it was a happy anniversary.  Her husband died a few years ago.

It saddened me that this was how she saw her day only as sadness and grief.  I asked her, "Do you think you could remember the happy memories to celebrate your day?"

We all do it.  You know what I mean?  We look at loss as our focal point.

But what about the good?  What about all the beautiful memories to remember?  Why don't we just bask in the glory of how much love we had, and celebrate it?

We are way too human for that.

Just like when an animal loses a limb, they don't worry about what the general population of fuzzy friends will think.  No, they say to themselves, "Ok.  Now I have 3 legs," then learn how to walk properly and carry on with life.

Not us humans.  We feel loss in a different way.  We're very emotionally intricate.

We also care too much about what others will think of us when we have a disability.

When I was first out of the house after my accident, people would give me looks of disgust, because they thought I was drunk.

I looked pretty drunk.  I couldn't walk alone with my cane.  I needed help.  That or a wheelchair.

But it really affected me that people would judge me so harshly after all I'd been through.

Especially because of the fact that I was clean and sober!!

However, such is our human nature.

Back to chatting about G'ma.

... but it's all about me isn't it?!!?!?!? ...

She put her whole life into her husband.  They did that in her generation.

I've heard about the G'pa.  I never got to meet him, but apparently, I would have really liked him because he was cheeky.  I wish I met him.

Regardless, nice and/or cheeky as he was, G'ma followed him to wherever he went, whatever he wanted to do and his friends became her circle.

I hope to hell that I continue to have an independent life while being coupled with my love.

I know that a lot of my life has been meshed with Papi, which is just beautiful, but I really hope that when I'm old and grey, if mi esposo leaves this planet before me, that I will still be grateful for my memories.

I hope that I will still continue to do things that I enjoy, and do them knowing that my love's spirit is always with me.

Or, I hope that I go first.

Nobody wants to be the one left behind in love.

Ah, but there I go.  Thinking about the future again.

That's human nature as well.

Right now, I'm going to enjoy the fact that I have the greatest love, and that soul mate is a part of my life.

don't dwell on the past or worry about the future for too long.  right now is life.  live it!!

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

Papi get down from there!

It was tense.

It was really hard to talk Papi off the ceiling once he got up there.

We decided we weren't going to go away until the time came to look for property in the Dominican Republic.

Then it came; The invitation to one of my best friends' wedding in Mexico.

Well, of course we had to go.  He was my best man at my wedding and I love the bride-to-be to pieces.  She is one of the strongest people I have ever encountered in my life.

Then of course, there's my Godson; The Turkey, The Porkchop and the rest of the clan in that positive happy home.

Hell yes!  We're going.

However, this sparked my love to think of more opportunities for us to get a break from G'ma and the Dungeon Syndrome.

My love's aunt and uncle are coming to stay in May, and knowing that we could get out of this place and have a break from the G'ma really sounded like a good idea.

Until this.  "Well, if we're going to that wedding then we can go to the wedding for my half sister!" 

We really can't afford this one though.  It's in the Mayan Riviera.  That would cost way too much, but at first, my love announced, "We're going to both!" then skipped up and down the hall.

I'm not exaggerating.

"This is my happy dance!!" he crooned as he side step skipped up and down our tiny corridor.

The animals didn't quite know what to make of it.

Hell!  I didn't know what to make of it.

All I saw was our pending debt flashing before my eyes.  It a good cardio workout for my love, who has been stagnant since his hysterectomy 5 months ago.

It was so hard to convince my love that we have time to save for the one in October, but we can't possibly do that for the one in May.

His skipping stopped, and he looked like I'd just stolen his ice-cream cone.

"Honey, I've been through bankruptcy once, and I don't want to do it again," I pleaded.

I got myself out of that hole and learned about 'want' vs. 'need' and learned that cash for everything is the only way to stay out of debt.  If you can't afford to pay for it without credit, then you simply can't afford it.

However, I got sucked into a lot of retail therapy over the past few years.  You would too after all the hell we've been through since the accident in 2008, not to mention the hell I've been through personally since 2007.

We got sucked into, "We could die tomorrow!" thinking that allowed us to go into debt to get to our places of warmth every year.

But things are different now.  We have a plan to spend every day in paradise.  We don't need to bring along a looming debt to hinder our dream.

So, I did it.

I convinced my love that only one wedding will suffice.  The one we can afford to save and pay cash for.

But I must admit, knowing that there will be someone here to watch the G'ma in May does make me want to get the hell outta Dodge.

Maybe we can enjoy a Stay-cation perhaps?  It will give us time to get things ready for our massive Garage Sale Gala!

Get rid of crap we can't sell, and get a few bucks for the rest.

Anyway, I managed to keep us out of a further debt and I'm shocked I could do it.

Somehow, I edged one finger at a time out of the Gyprock above me.  His fingers were pretty much holding on for dear life.

I talked him down, but it wasn't without a lot of work.

Phew.  That was too close.

i am deserving of all the good things in my life

Gimme all your turkey and nobody gets hurt.

You can really tell someone's level of homophobia by their X-mas cards.

People who are accepting of us will send a card to both of us, by either Mr. & Mrs. Hector-Brown, or Andréa & Easton Hector-Brown.

But then again, there's those who choose the latter, because their level of transphobia won't allow them to put a 'Mr' on that envelope.

That doesn't bother me as much, because at least they feel that we're one married unit.

Together.

As one.

Alas, then there's the others.

Homophobic #1 will write us each a separate card, without any reference to Mr. or Mrs., enforcing their belief that we are not 'one' in our relationship.

They continue to view my love as female, and myself as a 'pretend' wife.

They won't accept that we are just like any other married family member who deserves the same treatment as the straights in the clan.

They are passive aggressive in nature and won't budge on their stance.

However, Homophobic #2 is even worse.

We will receive separate cards, and on our cards, both prefixes will say 'Miss'.

'Miss.'

Both.

Not even a thought that we're married, or that my love is going through male transformation.

She got both painful digs in at one time.

Crafty, that old fart.

To the elderly, religiously brainwashed, old coot of 96, we will remain single women, even though she actually walked Papi down the aisle for our wedding.

But to even add more salt to the wound, the G'ma will put my love's chosen ...

... and legal for fucks sakes!! ...

... name, then Papi's birth name in brackets with 'aka' written before it.

I don't know.

I really don't think the old fart is doing this because of Alzheimer's.  She's just an abusive, manipulative woman, who grabs any opportunity to show us how she really feels.

Even though we're miles away in another province right now, the miserable old poop has to find a way to irk us.

There's really no break from the g'ma's nagging either.

She has to call and make sure that she belittles our levels of responsibility.

In other words, we are both stupid and immature, we had a pretend marriage, and are just roommates.

And people wonder why I don't celebrate X-mas?

Because the sheep who talk to imaginary beings in the sky can be so full of hate, and g'mas level is so deep with hate that even her pastor is trying to persuade her to be more loving and accepting.

Why the fuck would I want to celebrate some dead guy who has followers with this behaviour?

No thanks.



But I'll still eat your turkey.

Ignorance is Bliss.

So, it came to my attention when I wrote my last blog.

I'm not talking about this one that I wrote after my composing panic attack.

I'm talking about the actual blog that I wrote here.

You see, I have this little 'matter' with my brain.

It got scrambled in the motorcycle accident, and occasionally, entire happenings merely go missing from my brain files.

It's kinda like what arose the other day when Papi attempted to use my composing tower to print out the needed papers for his medical EI.

Bad Papi!  He lost all my current composing files.

and has now been banished from my composing tower ... he may only play his 'sims' game on my laptop where lesser important items are kept ...

One of my BFFs, who is also my BlueLight partner and boss from Boomsmack Records, told me that's not possible.

oh! and btw ... if you'd like to help me do my job, take a moment and 'like' each of these here links on facebook. it will make my boss happy hehehe

Oh, but yes it is possible, because in my world, the strangest things will happen, and happen it did.  No files.  Nothing.  Fuck all.  Gone.

Anyway, I digress yet again.  That has nothing to do with my brain injury.  That's just my personality.  I'm all over the map.

So, I wrote this blog the other day with absolutely no recollection that I had already written about it here.

Now, the difference between the two, is that one is telling you about the marriage certificate that we already had changed to 'male & female', and the other blog is telling you that if Papi asked to have the marriage certificate changed from 'female & female' into 'male & female' that I'd put my wobbly foot down and say, "Hell fucking no!!"

However, it has already been done.

This example of insanity was brought to you by the letters and punctuation of: WTF?!

But you know what?

Sometimes my brain injury does me justice.  I get to pretend that things are in my brain they way I like them.

That is of course, until Papi bursts my bubble.

Yes.

It already happened.

Yes.

I still have my marriage certificate in my office where I get to see it along side of my sweet Papi pre-male transformation.

It's a hot 'n sexy pic of the most perfect butch ever, with breasts peeking ever so naughty between my love's opened leather vest.

Well, I was volunteering yesterday at the Queer Arts Festival office and there were scrumptious picture of butches all over the walls, complete with a few butch breasts proudly displayed for my perusal.

It made me so sad to know that I'll never get to touch my love's breasts ever again because of The Great Breast Disappearance.

I almost cried, but fortunately for me, I forgot they were even there when I got obsessed with organizing papers for filing.

You see?

Brain injury is not so bad.

It's good in an, 'i'm not really here', sorta way.

Ahhhh.

Ignorance is truly bliss.