patty cake, patty cake, . . .

kitty say what

some days

are just like that

(and this is so apropos to my life as i have not been able to print anything on my printer for centuries because of some non-existant paperjam!*#%&*! ~ no matter how many times Demetra has tried to remedy the problem!)

i remain unimpressed

I write like Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

was my result with my recent blog posts (i've never been a fan) i tried sticking in a poem and another random piece and got:

I write like David Foster Wallace

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

i'm really not sure what to take from that. but then i tried one more poem and got this:

I write like Vladimir Nabokov

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

i cheered at the thought of being compared to my favorite author and decided it was time to stop trying (and stop questioning.)

i have always longed to be compared to Margaret Atwood, what she says and the way she says it is who i want to be ~maybe it's the woman in me (and my temperment probably matches hers~being more than a little cranky and all...)

poor little turtle

only wants to be kitty's friend and the cat is having none of it...



(not one of my cats, by the by...)

finally (even if i don't know where anything is)

so, i have been talking about remodeling my living room for years. Had it all planned out (and, believe it or not, this wasn't my plan) but have been thinking that the next day would be the perfect day to procrastinate day after day, after day. My sister, who i suppose has grown quite weary of hearing about this project, is visiting, apparently, with the express purpose of tackling this job herself.
I go to work, take naps, whatever only to find more and more of my living room gone. Now all that is left is the tv and its accouterments, the sofa and some pieces of cat furniture. I have no idea where anything is (and, since most of my clothing was spread all over the living room, getting dressed has become quite an adventure.) Yesterday i went to retrieve the cat food from my trunk and found some things stashed there.
I still have all my masks up (and i suppose i shall not take them down until after the carpet is ripped up and i am ready to paint. The first pictures here are of my entryway.

I have masks in every room my house. I began collecting them about twenty-five years ago because of my theatre major, my love of Shakespeare, and the fact that i believe they are unique. All told, i have no idea how many i have as there are still some packed away (over 200, i believe.)

So this is the current state of my living room (i'm planning on trashing the green curtains for blinds, although i suppose they match the plant.): the carpet is probably over 25 years old and has had too many cats live in it over the years (the entry way is completely ruined by former feline residents as well as my own sixteen-year-old feline who thought that because the odor was already there that was the place to go. I am afraid of what the state of the sub-flooring there is but once the damage has been mitigated i plan to replace it with tile in the hopes that it will be easier to clean)


I have never been a huge fan of red (everything i like tends toward the cool side,) but, as of late i've been obsessed with all things red (and i'm trying to go to the cool side of red.) I hope i don't hate it once i have to live in it...For my carpeting i have always wanted to do carpet tiles because of the beasties and the clumsiness of their owner, but found myself turned off by the colors, textures, and lack of ability to install padding underneath. FLOR finally came out with a solution to the first two and i decided to sacrifice the third to the greater good. I was thinking of doing yellow blinds for my window so that the living room was all primary colors but i'm not sure how that whole effect will go. I do have a celestial (blue sky, yellow stars, moon or something similar running throughout my house so the yellow is there, but then again yellow is from the wrong side of the spectrum and yellow hasn't grown on me like red has.

Ikea provides my desired sofa and chairs (time to relegate the futon to the basement~and only if Ikea would actually PROVIDE the sofa and chairs so i didn't have to use my imaginary cash...) I have decided to pack away my hundreds of cds instead of displaying them since i have everything on iTunes now and then i might actually have space in my tiny living room for the furniture.

I still have black furniture/accents remaining from my early household fantasies of every room a color accented by black and the dark grey was the only color i liked in the styles i wanted.

After i complete the living room, my next wad of imaginary cash will be devoted to installing a platform in my bedroom (i am becoming too old and crickety to launch myself off my beloved futon~and though i still love to sleep on it i need it to be a bit higher off the ground~i could also use the extra storage space drawers would provide.)
this is my current bedroom look with the usual feline decorations.

if you could only see the ENTIRE bedroom you would get a sense of the type of mess my sister had to clean up in the living room...

My mother told me that when i got a housekeeper i would have to learn to put up with people putting away my stuff. And i said, "But mother, i have no more imaginary cash to spend on a housekeeper." To which my wonderful mother said that she was going to pay for it (she never did my housework when i was growing up~i suppose she is tired of visiting me in chaos...
Although i love my family for all their help i hate that my migraines prevent me from doing much myself and feel so guilty that others have to do it for me.

(and once upon a time i had matching lamps~i have a replacement shade somewhere but i know not where.)

I am much too picky to ever accomplish anything!

thoughts?

damn, missed yet another Pagan holiday

Now however will i predict my future?

"This is an excellent time for rites of divination."

Humanity has been celebrating Litha and the triumph of light since ancient times. On the Wheel of the Year Litha lies directly across from Yule, the shortest day of the calendar year, that cold and dark winter turning when days begin to lengthen and humanity looks wistfully toward warmth, sunlight and growing things. Although Litha and Yule are low holidays or lesser sabats in the ancient parlance, they are celebrated with more revel and merriment than any other day on the wheel except perhaps Samhain (my own favourite). The joyous rituals of Litha celebrate the verdant Earth in high summer, abundance, fertility, and all the riches of Nature in full bloom. This is a madcap time of strong magic and empowerment, traditionally the time for handfasting or weddings and for communication with the spirits of Nature. At Litha, the veils between the worlds are thin; the portals between "the fields we know" and the worlds beyond stand open.

i've done it before

i'll probably do it again...

(and somehow they totally fucked up the picture/description corespondence in the above~and the below, just so you know. . . i may not be as weird as this makes me seem . . . or i could be even stranger...)

the question is

how many different mes

are there???

if only...

and for the friend who commented:

"Sassy gay friend" isn't exactly an archetype you'd stick in a tragedy. That's probably why he's missing from Hamlet. He does show up in Romeo and Juliet, but luckily he gets stabbed to death in the second act, otherwise he might have interfered with the suicide scene in act 5.

here ya go:

to which said friend adds "That's why Mercutio had to die."

librarians do the gaga

¿and what is the big six? you may ask...

i wouldn't recommend this experience

There i am, on my way to work, after lunch break, i am pulled over by a detective (and i have no idea why.) She comes to the window and asks if there is any reason why i'm driving a car whose registration expired in December (because i had thrown my current registration in the glove box and completely forgot about it~and apparently couldn't be bothered to put the sticker on it.) I hand her the registration. Then she asks if there's any reason why i'm not wearing my seat belt (i really don't know, as i always wear my seat belt.) Stammer a little. She asks me for proof of insurance, license, all that jazz. Then she says something about me going to work and her putting the sticker on my car (or so i thought~it sounded a little strange but whatever.) She goes to her car, i wait for her to come back (while giving questioning gestures to her about what i'm supposed to do), then finally start my car.

The next thing i know two more police cars pull up, sirens blaring, and surround me (and i'm thinking "My coworker, who had her car impounded this morning, was right about the police being crazy.) One officer walks around my car then approaches me.

"Why did you do that, why were you fleeing."

"I'm sorry, i was confused, i misunderstood what she said."

He continues to question my actions, i continue to apologize.

"What is your criminal record?"

"I don't have one."

"You've never been to County Lock-Up?"

"No."

"You don't have any warrants out for your arrest?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay, we're going to check your record."

"Alright."

Then he points to the passenger side of my car, "Have you been drinking any of that hard liquor today?"

I'm thinking "What hard liquor?" I glance to where he is pointing to (barely) see a liquor store bag hiding underneath a BUNCH of books (from my vet visit i'm sure~but i don't even know why it's there because i always put my liquor (as i do all groceries) in the trunk. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, i'm on my way back to work." (and wouldn't you be able to smell it or something?) "Is it supposed to be in the trunk?"

"No it's fine." He grills me a little more then finally is on his way.

The detective comes back and again quizzes me about why i tried to flee the scene.

"I'm so sorry, i misunderstood what you said."

"We don't know if you're fleeing the scene of a murder or something." (then why would i pull over in the first place?) "I'm ticketing you for a seat belt violation." (again, i couldn't tell you or her why i wasn't wearing a seat belt either because i ALWAYS~or apparently not always~wear a seat belt.)

Then she asks me if i'm alright.

"I am a little shaken."

"Haven't you even been pulled over before?"

"I have been pulled over, it's just a little different than being surrounded."

After a few more warnings, i am on my way back to work.

Moral of the story?

Never forget ANYTHING; not your registration sticker, not to not start your car, not that you have liquor on your floor, and especially not your seat belt!

(and when i told my mom she first asked if any of the officers were cute (i didn't even notice) and then asked if they checked to see if i was a citizen (i don't know what the detective looked up in her car, but they didn't ask me.)

beware appealing looking miniature cupcakes!

My mom knocks on the door with a gift of a mini-cupcake that she has picked up at some wedding reception, somewhere. It has vanilla frosting on the top and some sort of light-colored cake (i don't like chocolate cake for some odd reason, even though i love chocolate~but vanilla is my favorite.) I set aside the cupcake to enjoy sometime when i really want it.

A few days go by with my mouth watering but still not enough. I finally decide it is time to eat the delight and i take a bite when something awful tasting explodes in my mouth. For some reason i take another bite and the same thing happens. I call the mother to ask what nasty poison she has fed me. It was a "cute" little bath bomb disguised as a cupcake (there was no note or tag to identify it as such, although my mom insisted there was.) The creator of said "cupcakes" had laughed that her children been fooled into thinking they were edible.

I do not think it is a laughing matter.

goodbye to you (or should that be I?)

So i watched her for a while and then i was SO over it (and i must admit i'll watch ANTM occasionally (mostly on Oxygen. Speaking of which, just caught the "petite", most of the models were 5'7", season and couldn't help that notice that all of them wore flats during judging, when in other seasons they have been told they must learn to walk in heels~did the producers tell them to do that so that they would look even shorter? Or do all of us shorties just detest heels?) I think my favorite contestant ever was Alison, broken-doll, Harvard (or as her internet fans/discoverer know her, Creepy Chan.) Besides the strange fascination of it all, there is the fact that Nigel is so gorgeous (i've also always found it more than a bit hypocritical that she makes her contestants do all sorts of things like pose with animals and in the nude that she had barred from her own contracts.)

When i did watch The Tyra Show i was always so annoyed that she would ask her guest a question and then interrupt them before they got to the answer (and it always seemed to be with someone that i REALLY wanted to hear the answer (tho i'm sure she did it other times, i just didn't care to notice.)
Her ego always shone through...

and supposedly she fired Paulina because Paulina's ego was too big, how could her ego be bigger than Tyra's? I like Paulina (even if i have no idea what she's really like~she's blunt and honest AND she's married to Ric Ocasek {gotta love the Cars! [and i do!]})

I'm not sure if i'll miss her or not (i'm thinking not, as i haven't seen her for quite some time...)

Just another bunch of YoSafBridg thoughts you probably have no interest in!

a trip to the vet...

We were off to our vet appointment today (well three of us were off, since Dixie seems to have learned that precognitive skill of sensing beforehand that the vet trip is eminent.) Even though i was able to lure Demetra and Katushka into the bathroom with cat treats and then close the door only to insert them into cat carriers, Dixie was having none of it (nor the promise of food) and hid in the basement. The search for her was futile. So i trundled off the two others to the appointment meant for three. The beasties needed their annual exams and to have their talon-like claws clipped (they will not let me near their paws--amazing how an animal 5%-10% of your body weight can really hold their own against you.) I threaten them with declawing every now and then but i never would as i am morally opposed to it (besides the fact that i refuse to put the 16 year old Dixie under anaesthesia unless absolutely necessary.) I have bought those soft paws things (rubber caps that slip over the claw itself and fall off after six to eight weeks) but not only do you have to trim their claws before you can apply them but you also need them to hold still while you glue them on (what's the point?) I've had groomers tell me that vets can do it for you, and of course the vets tell me that groomers do. Does anyone know anything about the effectiveness of EmeryCat? I'm actually more concerned about my own safety rather than my furniture (although Katushka claws at my kitchen bench incessantly). Dixie claws at the carpet and runs over me with her claws, Katushka also runs over me, and she has a bit of a kneading problem. Demetra has a major kneading problem because she was weaned too early (but she always using her scratching post.)

As if you cared for any of the above detour, back to my story: I asked Herr Doctor if Demetra has gained weight just because her sides seem to be buldging a teensy bit (can i stress teensy?) I probably wouldn't have even noticed if Demetra had not been a short-haired cat, unlike her sisters (Katushka once lost 25% of her weight without my note until the vet weighed her.) So Herr Doctor tells me that she has gained a little and then proceeds to tell me that she needs to go on a diet (a little difficult with three cats who don't care whose food they eat), that i need to brush her back better because she probably can't reach around to groom herself (little does he know i rarely brush any of them), and that she has possibly lost the fur underneath her chin due to her neck size increasing rather than some kind of reaction to her collar. I wonder if he would have even come up with this theory if i hadn't brought it up (she had hissed at the vet tech, something she never does~maybe she was unhappy with being called fat) it's not like the animal is obese, just a little pudgy.

Cats all bundled up and in the car i make a quick visit to the liquor store next to the vet (it was a five minute trip and cool and cloudy outside.) Had a major attack of vertigo while in the liquor store, shaking, swaying, waving vision (and i'm sure as i stumbled out of the liquor store a few assumptions were made.) My mother claims it was the act of being in the liquor store~maybe it was bad Karma for leaving the kids in the car~in actuality i believe it was just a relapse.)
Got into the car and had a lens fall out of my glasses (which rendered me completely unable to see.) Called mom to let her know she might need to come pick us up. So, with shaking hands, after about ten minutes got the lens back in. Drove like a little old lady until i got about a block away from my house where i ran out of gas. Had to call mom to rescue us, and then carry the animals in once i got home I'm sure they were wondering what the hell was going on when their trip home was much longer and confusing than it usually is. Needless to say the trip home from the vet was not the most enjoyable adventure...

wildest places

in no particular order (except my own...)

• underneath the lifeguard tower on Silver Strand Beach while the grunion were running

fifth floor balcony, student services building

car in mom's driveway (Wade and the gearshift)

car in mom's driveway (Brooke)

tent with First Love's mom knocking on the canvas

tent with four other people sleeping, unaware, no indication beforehand, no speaking, no further awknowledgement

in my bed but with the random poker guy who stopped by looking for "Bud"

men's bathroom at Twelve Oaks (with White Magic)

men's bathroom at The Deerhunter (with the gay bartender)

women's bathroom at The Pie (with that mohawk guy)

in the drug deal room (Black Magic)

balcony at Plastique

boat that we had broken into on the Great Salt Lake

apartment hallway because we were locked out

underneath upstairs pool table at The Zepher

driving and parked on 6th South and 3rd east (and in the Avenues)

on the picnic table outside the youth hostel

Mark's bathroom (John)

It'sComplicatedLoveYouInMyOwnWayRelationship's bathroom (with his best friend)

John's Dad's Bar's bathroom

Clete's car (but not Clete)

gravel at the desert show (Roger)

Dave V's car at the desert show

what-his-name's living room floor (did either of us even know who's house we were in?)

Tammy's back yard

Kurt's rec room floor

(bathrooms seem to be popular~don't they?)

and you have a right to tell me how to feel...exactly why?

Quite sometime ago i had jotted down my thoughts about The Girls Who Went Away and then posted them to my annotations/review on goodreads as well. Last year a perfect stranger with the user name Erin had then commented on my thoughts/feelings which boiled my blood a little every time i saw it but kept deciding there was no point to even trying a response.

I wasn't sure about your point of view until the very end of your review. Being pregnant and having a child changes people. There is no way to explain it, and no way to create that change but to have a child. You will never understand the desperate love until you have a child.

~Erin (whoever that is...)

Yesterday, for some reason, i finally decided i had to respond, for whatever it was worth:

• I'm sorry that you had to slog through my ENTIRE review to understand my feelings (you could have stopped reading--and there were three people who admitted to liking it!)
  
• I never claimed to be inside my mother's head and know what she felt or thought, but YOU were not inside her head either, and even though some feelings are SOMEWHAT universal that does not mean she was as connected or felt the same way you do.
  
• You have no idea where i am in terms of motherhood so you can't tell ME how to feel about it or what to understand (one of the reasons i can't relate to what my mother went through is because of some of those same feelings you describe...)
  
• She never has sought me out so it seems she might not have cared to.
  
• This is about MY feelings, my issues and thoughts about something i have had to deal with my whole life.
  
• It is also about my not caring about hers and you can't tell me that i must care!

and i don't WANT to help you either!

I just crept out of the back room to tell the people manning the reference desk where i had stashed the winning patron's gift certificate and what to do with it to find a man asking for help with his flash-drive, and the moment the words "computer illiterate" start to pass his lips the other librarian tells him that LibraryAssistant will help him to which LibraryAssitant says "Oh no, i can't help with any computer thing."

Librarian says "We'll I'm about to leave."

LibraryAssistant sees me coming up behind her and says "RampagingLibrarian will help you."

To which i reply "No, i'm not here." (meaning i am not currently supposed to be at this station~something that always seems to make sense to those of us in the service profession but makes no sense to anyone else.)

The patron standing at the self-service catalog chuckles and i think the man seeking help may have wandered off but it wasn't my problem!

Just stop by your local helpful librarian (or not.)

this is NOT a post ~ this is how i feel ~ tonight

once again i am up in the night. Can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can only roll with the waves, be pulled by the pain, wait for the oh-too brightness of day—and sleep…

Wreck Of The Day
Driving away from the wreck of the day
And
the light's always red in the rear-view
Desperately close to a coffin of
hope
I'd cheat destiny just to be near you
If this is giving up, then
I'm giving up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And I'm thinking 'bout
calling on Jesus
'Cause love doesn't hurt so I know I'm not falling in love
I'm just falling to pieces

And if this is giving up then I'm giving
up
If this is giving up then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

And maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love
When all my
resistance will never be distance enough

Driving away from the wreck of
the day
And it's finally quiet in my head
Driving alone, finally on my
way home to the comfort of my bed
And if this is giving up, then I'm giving
up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On
love

~Anna Nalick

Kyoto Song

A nightmare of you
Of death in the pool
Wakes me up at quarter to three
I'm lying on the floor of the night before
With a stranger lying next to
me
A nightmare of you
Of death in the pool
I see no further now than
this dream
The trembling hand of the trembling man
Hold my mouth
To
hold in a scream

I try to think
To make it slow
If only here is
where I go
If this is real
I have to see
I turn on fire
And next
to me
It looks good
t tastes like nothing on earth
It looks good
It tastes like nothing on earth
Its so smooth it even feels like skin

It tells me how it feels to be new

It tells me how it feels to
be new
A thousand voices whisper it true
It tells me how it feels to be
new
And every voice belongs
Every voice belongs to you

~The Cure

Catch

Yes I know who
you remind me of

A girl I think I used to know
Yes I'd see her
when the day got colder
On those days when it felt like snow

You know I even think that she stared like you
She used to just stand there and stare
And roll her eyes right up to
heaven
And make like I just wasn't there

And she used to fall down a lot
That girl
was always falling
Again and again
And I used to sometimes try to catch
her
But I never even caught her name

And sometimes we would spend the night
Just
rolling about on a floor
And I remember
Even though it felt soft at the
time
I always used to wake up sore

You know I even think that she
smiled like you
She used to just stand there and smile
And her eyes
would go all sort of far away
And stay like that for quite a while

And I remember she used to fall down a lot
That girl was always falling
Again and again
And I used to sometimes
try to catch her

But I never even caught her name
Yes I sometimes even tried to catch her
But I never even caught her
name

~The Cure

and now i hear the birds singing, bird songs are my death

one after another, they stumble

There i was, sitting at the reference desk all by my lonesome, minding my own business (and why, i ask you, why, can't everyone else mind THEIR own business and not pester me with questions as if i'm sitting behind a big sign that says INFORMATION or something???) when a guy in his mid-twenties comes up to the desk and says "There is some paper in the back that says "*(insert very, very common last name which also happens to be the name of our library here) on it and is that my mom's?" pointing back to our computer room. me: "What?" Mid Twenties Guy: "Is that my mom's paper?" "Huh?" "That paper that says (afore-mentioned name), is that her?" A bewildered, confused, flustered me says, "I'm not sure what you're asking me, what is your question?" "Is that my mom back there?" "I don't know." "You don't?" "No, i don't. He exits stage right. He Comes back, "There's a paper back there that has writing and 4/30 on it" Still Me, "Yes?" What month is this, the fifth?" "This is the fourth month." "So is she here, or is she coming in?" "I couldn't tell you." "Well, is that her writing?" "Does it look like her writing?" "Yes." "Well then it might be." He walks away again. He comes back. "I want to know where my mom is." "I'm not sure what i can help you with, sir, what did you want me to do?" "I just want to talk to her, i haven't seen her in four years." I'm thinking she just might like it that way, "I don't know, you might need to find her in a different way."" You haven't seen her, she has red hair, kind of weird face, she's really big, and she's crazy." Must run in the family, "I haven't seen her." "Well, where is she? "I really don't know her or where she is." He wanders off, yet again, only to assault the other librarian with the same questions. About 45 seconds later a wizened, old, drunken cowboy (boots, spurs, hat and all) wants a list of our falconry books. We don't have any in our library (so odd that we wouldn't in such a small library~isn't it?) So i print one out for him. Drunken Cowboy asks "How much do i owe you?" "Don't worry, it's fine." "Oh, you're cute." "Thanks" "What's your name?" "I'm RampagingLibrarian." DrunkenCowboy sticks out his hand and says "I'm Drunken Cowboy. It's a New Foundland name. I'm just an old cowboy." I shake his hand. "This is a wealth of information, i owe you big time." "Well, pass it along." "You're cute, I'll pay you back," DrunkenCowboy continues, "I'm a good kisser, er, i'm a good dancer," he shakes my hand again. "Um okay." He almost walks away, then comes back to shake my hand again, "I like my women worn out." Is that this the cowboy form of compliment? "I don't think i'm worn out." "No I don't think you look worn out, I meant broken-in." Is that any better??? I give him a clenched-teeth laugh. "I break horses, so it's good to be broken in," he shakes my hand again. "Uh, okay." He starts to walk towards the door, but no, "I'll come back and take you dancing, this is such great information." "Uhuh." He shakes my hand again, "I'll be back RampagingLiberrian." (not only does he get my name wrong, but he doesn't even tip his hat at me...) And hopefully i won't be here.

in the er

There i was, sitting ever so calmly at the reference desk, horrible migraine had not yet kicked in when i started to get really dizzy (even though i was sitting still in my chair.) About 10 minutes later my vision started shaking (seeing double because everything was moving so fast, as i'm trying to convince myself that this is just a new migraine symptom that i will have to get used to), 10 minutes later i completely lost my sense of balance and was falling (making other people walk back to the computer room because i was unable to.) At this point my manager was wanting to call 911 but i didn't want to pay for an ambulance. Started shaking uncontrollable, had my mom come get me (my manager and a coworker were on either side of me, supporting me, escorting me to the car and i still fell). Had to be wheeled in on a gurney and they did a cat scan thinking i may have had a stroke.
My mom came into the ER with me, which i never let her do because i'm an adult and can handle myself (plus i don't always appreciate her interrupting to clarify or add to what i'm talking, but i wasn't feeling all that capable at the moment. Triage asks me the usual "What medications have you taken lately and i try to go through what my memory allows but words don't come easily to my tongue (and memory is a little difficult to master as well.)

Laying down doesn't help too much, world still spins. I tell the nurse i just want her to give me something to knock me out. She says "Oh no you don't want that, why would you want it."

"Because i just want to sleep/be unconscious than experience this." Plus i wasn't entirely serious.

Once i'm chatting with the ER doc i remembered that glass of wine i had the night before (heavy partier that i am) and mentioned it to her and she rolled her eyes (like stupid girl, that has no influence on anything,) then i told her that i had smoked a little marijuana for my migraine and nausea which made her decide i was some kind of druggie and that my current problems reaching for words were related to marijuana affecting memory (even though i smoke it only occasionally and never have memory problems at any other time~again she rolls her eyes and says it doesn't matter how much i smoke.) She started grilling me about where i got the weed because of problems with suppliers and i'm thinking "do you know every drug dealer in town and weather there products are pure (and wouldn't they usually not want to lace weed with anything since other drugs are usually more expensive)?"

Then she wanted to know what i'd done in the past even though it's been twenty years or so, i glance at my mom because i really didn't want to subject her to the entire list of my rather extensive recreational history. Doctor says "time for full disclosure."

I run through my list for her (probably missed a few--i think my list includes pretty much everything excluding heroin.) So then she told me i was just having flashbacks or that it was bad marijuana (which seems rather unlikely because i haven't ever had flashbacks and i had already smoked from that same bag.)

Final diagnosis: vertigo. She gives me Valium and tells me to see my neurologist in the morning (and she mentioned how wonderful my neurologist was. The Valium just makes me sleepy (which, i suppose, is not bad, but it didn't help me with much else.

When i stumbled into my regular neurologist's office the next day she said she didn't think it was anything to do with drugs but wasn't too fond of the weed just because it's illegal and you don't know where it comes from and she doesn't want me getting arrested.

The Antivert she gave me was much more effective with the nausea and, somewhat with the dizziness than the Valium. I couldn't walk straight (and constantly fell down) for about three days, and the world didn't stop spinning (along with the accompanying nausea) for about a week and a half. Was bored as hell because i couldn't read and couldn't watch television too well.

Today is my first day back at work, still a little shaky and very little sense of balance, but i am doing much better.