Fugue-ing Around

 

I CANNOT believe the last thing I posted was that Feature and Follow thing which I never do right anyway. 

I am walking around every minute I am awake thinking “me, me, me”.  I am going to research whether it is possible to self-induce a fugue state.  I use this device all the time in my novels.  Every time something gets overwhelming I just have my adorable heroine go fugue-ing off, barefooted, into the Redwood National Forest, or The Great White Nowhere, or the Saint Louis Cemetery.  Myself, it would hurt my feet.  I am too constantly painfully aware of what is going on in my life.  I feel like a huge China (Ming Dynasty preferably) vase and I am aware of that tiny crack just starting in the bottom and if some one puts one more drop of water in it,Kablooey.

Obama said no fireworks on any military base anywhere.  I would have taken up a collection to have them at Great Lakes.  It is pivotal in my year.  I had a sign from Above.  The fireworks in the neighborhood had just started and I was cleaning (and cleaning, and cleaning, and cleaning) Louie’s room and a halogen bulb on the hall light just out side his door blew up gloriously.  I choose to consider it a sign that God (my bud) was reassuring me that Obama was wrong.  (I used the word wrong here because I thought some of you might be offended or consider it disrespectful if I said “an asshole” instead.)  Obama is undermining our nation.  You didn’t hear it here first, but I think the fireworks thing was just another step on his part — another chip at the foundation of our Nation, another drop of water in the China vase of our beloved country.

Anyway, the news about Louie is not too good.  Physically he is coming along, but the memory problems and the personality change are obvious and I do not notice improvement.  For instance, he can’t text.  And all I get is “Can you hear me?” To say I am discouraged is putting it mildly.  And my father calls at least once a day to check up.  Finally, I had Lou call him today because my father cannot hear my voice on the phone and all I get is “I didn’t get that.” Lou spoke to him after both my brothers tried to explain and I actually went over to his house to explain and my father has not a clue as to what happened or is happening.  “Are you home?”  he asks Louie.  “No one is ever there when I go over there.”

I have no more patience and I cannot think  of a reason in Hell or on Earth or in Heaven as to why I should try to muster up patience.  When have I ever been on the receiving end of that?  I am bitter and pissed and I feel, honestly, I do not deserve this.  Misfortune?  My cup runneth over.  My mom said I was like that Little Abner character that walked around with the rain cloud over his head (Joe Mfblsztk?)

Every one, EVERYONE overestimates my ability to cope. I have been hearing that shit for too many years.  Sure I am crying poor me, but when some one says, “If any one can handle it, Ditty can” when my heart is so broken I feel like I don’t even want to recover, then I feel like it is time to say, “NO.  I can’t cope.  It hurts.  I am tired of it.  Stop it.  God, or someone, stop raining this shit down on me.”  Yeah, I know, every one has pain in their life.  Some of you have pain that is fresh and raw and may seem unbearable.  The difference is, I have had it in spades.  I can match you and double.  And I know it is bearable.  I am just fucking sick of it. 

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