Ubermilf Dark

glub blub blub

2009-06-05T09:41:00.001-07:00

drowning

This Is Gonna Sound Terrible But I Don't Care

2009-05-29T13:38:00.000-07:00

I am irrationally angry at all the braggarts on Facebook telling me how life is so wonderful for them and how everything is beautiful and how they're going to relax with a glass of wine now and how "naughty" they feel staying in their pajamas until 10 a.m. 10 A.M.! How madcap of them!

I can't fall asleep, and when I do, I wake up about every hour. I force myself out of bed every morning to get my daughter off to school. But it really doesn't matter, because it's not like I'm sleeping, anyways. I don't want to hear about how much energy you have, how you went for a jog this morning, and how much work you got done today, okay?

I know it's not YOUR fault, but I have 25 different things spinning in my head right now and they all terrify me. I can't even get started on anything because I am overwhelmed. It's not that I'm not feeding/dressing/caring for/ my children or cleaning up smelly garbage and dishes; I am doing those things. Don't call DCFS.

But I have waaaaaay more than day to day stuff I need to accomplish and I don't get to it. I don't file paperwork. I don't clean out the office. I don't get the stuff ready for a garage sale. I don't clear out the laundry room. I don't put all the crap away that's on the basement table. I don't take the broken glass painting to be fixed at the hardware store. I don't clean out the pantry. I haven't started packing. I haven't gone through the fall/winter clothes and either donated them or put them away for next year (although since it keeps dropping to 60 degrees around here) and I don't get the summer clothes out of the storage area beneath the stairs.

I am frozen with the enormity of it all. I know that's all my fault, but even when I cheer myself into thinking "I can do it! I'll start today!" I turn on the water for a shower and it never heats up and I have to call the repair guy. And then the imaging center and the surgery center keep calling me up and asking me about my oozing milk duct and telling me about ductograms (YES, I HAD ONE ALREADY! Thanks for making me relive it in glorious detail!) and what I have to do to prepare for surgery, and asking when did I think I was going to Austin??? But -- what about my follow-up? And telling me I might need to postpone going, when going to Austin is the one thing that's making me happy, and the closer it comes to actually happening, the more excrutiating the wait becomes -- and now you want to make it longer???

And speaking of that, I don't know how long we'll be down there. And don't forget to get the house ready for the renters! And after they leave, will we need to line up more? Sell the house? Or go back to us living up here, Rich living down there and only seeing him on weekends?

So please stop telling me how life is good. And how everything is working out for you JUST as you had planned. Don't tell me how organized and smoothly your life is running. Don't tell me how fabulous your life is. Please.

I know you think you're a "positive" person. But you're positively making me sick right now. Not everybody's life works the way you and Oprah seem to think it does -- just envision it, and take the steps necessary, and you can have what you want!

That is utter bullshit for 90 percent of the world. People have ADD, or depression, or anxiety, or schizophrenia, or their brains just don't work the way "normal" people's do. Or they have food allergies. Or they're black or gay or something "other" than the world thinks is "best." Or they have a muscular degenerative disease. Or cancer. Or can't conceive a baby. Or... fill in the blank.

I don't mind hearing about how someone's long hard struggle finally came to fruition. But I can't take hearing about the "perfect" lives of the "perfect" people right now. Tell it to your manicurist, which I'm sure you have.

But I'll tell you one thing I can do: I can order a goddamn motherfucking pizza. But I'm not going to brag about it. Because I know people who are allergic to dairy. Or have Celiac's disease. And they are not as lucky as me.

seriously disturbing medical post

2009-05-27T06:49:00.000-07:00

This post is about gross medical procedures, so if that kinda thing upsets you, don't read it.

I am finding it hard to sleep at night due to my upcoming surgery and its accompanying procedures.

Luckily, the earlier biopsy came up negative. After they punctured and bruised and tortured me. But that's okay.

Coming up on the 11th, they will give me another ductogram (battlestar galactogram, redux!) which entails them sticking a fishhook in my nipple at the site of the affected milk duct. Then they will insert a guidewire.

THEN they will put me under for the duct removal surgery. They have to biopsy that, too.

And what will the recovery period be like? I don't know. I'll have 2 days before I get in the car for our trip down to Austin. I hope I get the results quickly.

This is weighing on my mind more than I'd like to admit. It's not like I'm consciously thinking about it, but it's sitting back there. Kinda like when you have a program running in the background on your computer, and it's spinning and spinning away, slowing down your other processes.

I need to keep calm.

Dear World: When I Get To Austin...

2009-04-27T13:51:00.000-07:00

I am so fucking getting a job. One without children screaming and clutching at me.

And breaking my artwork. And leaving shit all around.

I am tired of this.

I don't want to go back on anti-depressants

2008-11-06T09:19:00.000-08:00

or anti-anxiety meds.

How can you tell if you need to go back on meds, or if you need to change your life? I mean, how can you tell if psych meds are just covering up a problem that should be dealt with, or if they are a cure FOR a problem?

Maybe I shouldn't feel fine, because something's wrong, and the drugs will make me feel as though everything's okay when it's not?

On the other hand, maybe the drugs are necessary for a clear head?

I wish I could take a "see things as they really are uncolored by any pre-existing experience and free of outside influences" pill. Do they make those?

This is Purely Hypothetical, of Course.

2008-09-23T07:24:00.000-07:00

Why, if your marriage is already weathering the stresses and strains of constant travel, would someone choose to invite an old flame out to dinner while in this old flame's current city? Away from his loyal spouse? Huh? Hypothetically, why would someone do that?

You know, especially since the wife was warned about this former high school relationship at a wedding by one of the husband's former high school colleagues. Hypothetically.

Why would informing the wife of this "dinner date" make everything ok? Because it would hypothetically put the onus on her of appearing "distrusting" and shrewish if she had a problem with it. So, she just smiles and says "I love you, have a nice trip," as you walk out the door AGAIN for another week of leaving her alone to deal with the mundane day to day details of running a home and raising children. Hey, hypothetically, some people might call that adding insult to injury.

So, hypothetically, this spouse might be pretty fucking pissed off and miserable and full of self-doubts and feeling like an idiot for ever giving up a career and stretching out her body having children and giving up the best years of her life because she stupidly trusted you. Hypothetically.

Because, hypothetically, this high school flame is some unattached Hollywood producer with long blond hair and a non-stretched out body.

So maybe hypothetically the hypothetical wife is just beside herself with rage and pain and can't really talk to anyone about it. And maybe, hypothetically, she hates you for making her feel this way. And maybe, hypothetically, it's going to take a lot to make her trust you.

So I hope that scratching that little itch, whatever that itch was, was worth it.

Hypothetically.

Another Example of How We've Changed

2008-07-08T09:39:00.000-07:00

A lot of people are going to disagree with me, but this is my dark side, so what do you expect?

This story enrages me. I don't want to speak ill of the dead, so please understand I am speaking of this event conceptually, not individually.

This man will never see his children get married, let alone meet his grandchildren. He has left his wife without a husband, and his children without a father. For what did this man sacrifice his life? For a noble cause? The betterment of humanity? Or for his own personal "sense of achievement?" Is that really worth it?

I'm trying not to lambast this guy; he's doing what he's been taught to do by various fairy tales like "you can do whatever you put your mind to" and "Just Do It!™". He's trying to feel something in this world full of meaninglessness. But no matter how "young you feel" or how much you train, sometimes you can't do what you want, due to physical restrictions.

And, more to the point of the rest of my post, no matter how many natural formations you climb, it won't make you matter in the world.

If he had not died up there, would the Tribune audience have heard of him? No, because his "success" only mattered to him. How much time and money did he pour into this pursuit? He could've made a difference to the world at large, instead of his own ego.

For instance, he could've donated money and effort into cleaning up a polluted lake or stream. He could've helped send some poor kid(s) to college. He could've invested in a new business to help provide jobs and taxes for the community. All of those things could've been an investment in the future.

Instead, he chose to invest in a dead end -- himself. That's what we're encouraged to do all the time. Self-indulgence, self-glorification and self-idolization are held up as virtues, and it's killing our future.

Even the robber barons of the past who donated to see their names up in lights managed to stroke their egos in a manner more beneficial. More people had access to books because of Carnegie. More people could experience natural history because of Marshall Field. Hospital wings were built. Parks were dedicated. These things live on after a person has died, their effects felt by more than just one person.

I'm not glorifying the robber barons. Nor am I suggesting this guy was incredibly wealthy. But he obviously had spare cash. That spare cash could've been used to invest in the future, in the world.

That's how life grows. That's how a society advances. We're going to collapse inward onto ourselves if people like this guy and those bigger and more influential fish in the pond continue to selfishly and slavishly serve their own selfish needs instead of the needs of others.

I'm not laying the blame of our society's woes at the feet of one poor guy who was only trying to bring a sense of accomplishment to his life. I'm questioning what a "sense of accomplishment" has come to mean.

I'm a big stupid head

2007-09-26T16:48:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to my high school reunion.

Why should I?

I've got mental problems I have to overcome, and going someplace that reminds me of my mistakes isn't going to help.

I haven't lived up to what I thought I should be, but what I thought I should be turned out not to be what I am.

And I'm just starting to almost kinda feel comfortable with who I am, as opposed to what I or others thought I should be, so why throw off my balance?

I fed babies with nothing but my own body. Two human beings live now because of me. How cool is that?

I didn't need a masters, and it actually HELPED that I wasn't too skinny. It didn't matter to my babies if I was glamorous or not, or how fancy or unfancy our surroundings. But I am a source of love and comfort. That is enough for me.

If I don't throw myself back into a mindset I held 20 years ago, that is.

Something's going on

2007-09-05T08:28:00.000-07:00

I have been having dreams about my ex husband and telephones. Also, that I am being sent back to high school because I never really graduated. But I cut class because I think I DID graduate.

These recurring dreams seem to mean there is something unresolved that I haven't yet dealt with. In my dreams, I neither hate nor love my ex husband, and I'm unsure why I'm still stuck with him. Somehow I still need to talk to him but he's never at his desk. (He's always at work)

The dream always ends, and I shift to other less memorable dreams, when I remember I'm married to Dilf.

I have no idea what's still stuck in my brain.

I Want to Go Away Forever and Ever

2007-08-23T12:00:00.000-07:00

I should be used to the low way I feel every month, but I'm not.

Of course, there's a lot of things I should do, but don't.

For instance, I'm eating like shit. Normally, I wouldn't beat up on anyone for eating like shit every so often, especially that "once a month" time, but I have medical reasons to stop it and I don't.

I buy the produce. Sometimes I even wash it. But the thought of eating it sickens me for some reason. Right now, there isn't enough ranch dressing in the world to make raw vegetable palatable to me, and I don't know why. I generally like vegetables.

For the moment, though, my major food group is Frito-Lay. I felt guilty when I got my "Good Eating" magazine in the mail today. Do they make a "Bad Eating" magazine? That would fit my current lifestyle a lot better. However, I eat a good high fiber cereal for breakfast. Because, like always, I start out okay.

But I am pretty depressed right now. I can't motivate myself. I can't bring myself to fold any laundry. Or cook, or plan meals, or clean the toilet, or unload the dishwasher, or clean the floor. I did vaccuum the rug downstairs, because the dog destroyed a maraca down there.

I just want to sit here and play word whomp, and I think that's because it's the only thing I'm capable of doing well right now.

I'm a big fat ugly lump. I lack any interest in anything. I suck at everything except Soduku and Word Whomp. I wish the world would swallow me up.

How Nice. What Does Someone Have to Do to be "Ugly?"

2007-06-01T11:27:00.000-07:00

I read a concert review of the band Emperor in the Trib today. The opening paragraph notes, "In black metal, a genre where evil and mayhem are prerequisites for success, Emperor is the blackest of the black." According to the reviewer, the concert led him to realize "... it became clear that beauty is sometimes found in darkness."

Hmmm... is luring a man into the woods and murdering him because he is (was) homosexual "beautiful?" Burning down ancient churches is "beautiful?"

The vocals were described as "alternat[ing] between strangled shrieks and demonic gurgles." Sounds nice.

Advocated hatred and violence should never be declared "beautiful," and I don't care if it spews forth from some Nordic asshole with a twisted view of history, or a jingoistic cowboy with a warped view of current events who wants to stick a boot in someone's ass.

I like periodic bouts of solitude.

2007-03-10T08:40:00.001-08:00

I'm not Emily Dickinson, but I can empathize.

I've decided I hate cell phones. I think they should only be able to dial 911 and tow trucks. Is there nowhere to hide from people?

Yes, I can turn it off. I often do. Or just not bring it with me. I do that, too.

But for a few hours at least, I need to be left the fuck alone today, to recharge my batteries. Because for the past week, I've either been with the girlies or shopping. Shopping, where people ask you if you need help and look at you and try to engage you in conversation. NO! Silence! Do not try to talk to me! I want to live in the secret world in my head, the one where I have magical powers and I am relentlessly sexy yet aloof and fight evil! I live by myself and have a beautiful sparse apartment where I can enter my fortress of solitude!

I'll be okay after a few hours alone in my private world. If the cat doesn't try to sit on my lap or ask for food or otherwise intrude upon my thoughts. Begone, Muffin! Unless I need a sidekick for my crime fighting adventures. Then, you have to wear a cape and learn to talk.

Did I mention my mom's insane? I did? Oh.

2007-03-09T07:39:00.000-08:00

So my mom is still going on and on about the picture. She's also micro-hyper-focused on Elder's Easter dress, Younger's birthday, and Strawberry Shortcake. She's also been overly consumed with children's raincoats, but that subsided a bit when she found some decent ones at KMart.

People make fun of KMart, but it carries a lot of the classic items that other stores shun. And it's still better than WalMart.

I took too much Nyquil last night. Not an over-dose, just too much for me. I can only take a sip or I wake up groggy the next morning. I think I took more of a gulp last night. Coffee. Must... find... coffee...

Dilf gets home early tomorrow morning from San Francisco. I used to think I wanted an exciting glamorous life. A jet-setting life. A life "better" than my childhood.

Now I want to return to my childhood, and bury my face is its soft familiarity. I want a routine I can count on. I want monotony. To me, the ultimate pleasure right now is a bed with fresh sheets, soft pajamas that aren't too warm nor too breezy, my face scrubbed and teeth brushed, and I climb into bed and sleep and sleep and sleep without interruptions. No children coughing up mucous onto their pillows in the middle of the night. No cat wailing to go out at 2:30 a.m. Nothing but pure, pure sleeping pleasure.

Of course, it could just be the Nyquil talking. Coffee... must... find... coffee.

dark mutterings

2007-03-07T09:08:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I'm back. Don't expect coherent statements or anything.

I've decided to post here the mistakes I make everyday, the mistakes that normal people barely notice. But due to the anxiety past down to me through the generations, they plague me until I rid myself of them. So I'm ridding myself of them.

I forgot to put on lotion for the second day in a row. Not on my face; I remembered that. Don't want skin cancer or wrinkles! No, I'm talking about on my body. Since Target didn't have that Aveeno oil that I put on IN the shower, which I always remembered, I have to put lotion on before I get dressed. But I always want to get dressed IMMEDIATELY after showering, because I am cold. So, no lotion today.

I only partially unloaded the dishwasher, and now Younger is going to come home at any second. Will I finish it? I don't know.

I didn't start a load of laundry, or fold the clean stuff.

I didn't straighten up the bathroom.

I think my period should be due. When was it last? I don't know. I have to check. Since Dilf was de-seeded (in theory), I don't look anymore. But what if...? I should really check.

My mom and eldest sister are still in major anxiety mode over my brother, but of course they don't want to deal with that directly (too painful!) they focus like a laser on other things. Like taking a picture of all the kids together in their St. Patrick's Day outfits. When are we going to do it? Did you talk to Dilf? What time does he want to do it? Where should we take it? That, and calling me up at 7:30 a.m. to remind me to dress Elder warmly for school because it was cold out.

Geez, thanks, Mom. I WAS going to break out the summer gear, snow on the ground be damned, but, hey, thanks for reminding me.

What if I am pregnant? I've been taking a lot of meds for colds and such. Perhaps this is all nothing, as it always is.

Younger is upstairs screaming for hot cocoa.

Milton Friedman's Legacy

2006-11-22T09:12:00.000-08:00

I hate to speak ill of the recently deceased. In fact, I won't. I never met Milton Friedman. But as a Christian, I will say... he spouted profoundly anti-Christian doctrine.

While people run around with their knickers in a twist over gay marriage and/or sex (something which Jesus never commented upon, and which his disciples mentioned only when condemning the use of gay prostitutes to worship other gods and goddesses, making it unclear whether it was the gay sex they were objecting to, or the worshipping at false idol's temples, or using fellow human beings for amusement and fundraising... but I digress), this man's call for ignoring the needs of one's fellow man in pursuit of profit is not only tolerated but embraced by those calling themselves Christian.

Where is Fred Phelps with his "God Hates Greedy Bastards" sign? Not that I would approve of that, but it could be ideologically consistent at least. As Christians, we are supposed to believe that our fellow human beings are God's presence on earth, and whatever we do to them, we do to God. In all his forms.

Milton Friedman gave people permission to give into their baser instincts, their reptilian brains which urged them to engage in greedy hoarding at the expense of their fellow man. Were he urging sex without conscience, he would be villified. But because he was urging profit without conscience, he is celebrated.

Religion isn't the enemy. Selfishness and an unwillingness to overcome our weaknesses is.

me

2006-10-18T16:32:00.000-07:00

Whine whine whine

2006-10-14T09:12:00.000-07:00

That's me today.

People think they remember what it's like, but they don't. Only people with two little ones right now, and are by themselves with these two little ones, know.

Two people pulling on you, needing you, physically, emotionally tugging you and draining your energy.

A household of responsibilities. Your own desires. All whirling together in a perfect storm of chaos.

I'm okay... this is just my pressure valve.

Self Destructive

2006-10-01T16:55:00.000-07:00

When I was 6 years old, my mother took me and my sisters to see The Nutcracker in Chicago. We were in the first row, mezzanine. They were really good seats. Before the show started, I sat there, willing myself to stay in my seat as I fantasized about hurling myself from the mezzanine onto the ground floor below.

I didn't want to die; I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. All I know is I had these urges that I had to fight to keep under control.

Even at that young age, I sabotaged myself in other ways. I kept my room and my desk at school unbearably messy. I hated it; it made me anxious, insecure and generally unhappy. Was I punishing myself? Why? I don't know the answer to these questions.

These are the earliest examples of feelings I still struggle with today. Just a couple weeks ago, while I was shopping by myself downtown and a freight train rumbled by in front of me as I waited to cross the tracks, I fought the compulsion to throw myself into the train. I don't know why. I'm not miserable, I don't want to die. yet here are the feelings.

Also, I deliberately ate chicken I knew to be undercooked. I still am awaiting the results of that. I remember thinking, "Good, I hope I get sick." Why?

Any progress I make is made by dragging myself kicking and screaming. I eat junk. I don't even allow myself to taste it; I just shove it down my throat. I'm punishing myself, but I don't know why.

I need to make another doctor's appointment.

I'm in Detox.

2006-09-25T00:14:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not on drugs. Well, unless you call junk food, blogging, and a continuous lifelong crusade to win my mother's approval a drug.

Throw in a spiteful older sister with anger issues and a propensity toward depression in the first place, and you've got yourself a party!

It's really, really hard to break free from childhood toxins. But I'm trying! Really I am.

I'm Pissed and I Don't Feel Like Linking

2006-09-20T06:56:00.000-07:00

I read about my electricity rates in my newspaper last week and it pisses me off for many reasons. By the way, by "my newspaper" I mean the Chicago Tribune and it's not point in my linking to them because they won't let you read the story unless you're a member anyways. Another thing to piss me off.

So, I was reading about my electric rates, which my paper warns me to "prepare" for them to "skyrocket." Because we have "enjoyed" a rate freeze which expires next year. And now, our deregulated utility will get to bid for electricity to find us the lowest rate. Except they're bidding from their own parent corporation, which generates electricity from nuclear plants built from and maintained by taxpayer funding.

Hooray! Another win for the regular Joe!

Do you know who bid for the contract? Excactly two groups. The afore-mentioned parent corporation, Exelon, and an unamed "loose consortium of investors." Wow! The free market at work! Are they sure the rates will "skyrocket?" Because this sounds like a boon for consumers!

Fuck me. This is another in a long line of non-discretionary items rising exponentially in cost. Food. Medical. Gasoline. Utilities.

But, hey, I can buy a DVD player cheaper than ever! Doesn't that feel good?

I'm also highly pissed at the Tribune, which wrote another colossally skewed piece of pro-corporate garbage without investigating. I think they just copied the ComEd press release word for word. In almost the last paragraph, they mentioned that
Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan is suing to halt this debacle . They didn't explain her position. Instead they claimed, "Her action may halt the auction, possibly resulting in even higher rates." Too bad they couldn't install a audio chip to play, "Boo, hiss!" Yes, that villain is trying to stop the good, generous power company from providing us with the cheapest, most reliable forms of energy at a rate that barely allows them to reap the highest profits for any electricity provider in history. It brings a tear to the eye!

And you gotta love the Illinois Commission. I can't recall a single instance under any administration, Democratic or Republican, where they denied an industry's request. I feel so protected. And like it matters who the hell I vote for anymore.

This is about another pedophile case

2006-09-19T09:14:00.000-07:00

I saw this story in my newspaper yesterday. Now, I've written about pedophiles before, but here's why I'm so damn scared by them. Look at the extremes they're willing to go to!

I mean, not that long ago, homosexuality was considered a mental illness, it was illegal in some places, they had to hide their sexuality, on and on and on. Did they build underground sex caves? Did they kidnap people for sex? There has to be more than just sexual urges at play here.

I'm not saying I know what that is. But pedophiles will hop on planes for the promise of sex. Face hard jail time. Risk complete and utter social isolation and rejection. And for what?

Sex? That can't be all there is to it. And another thing, where do they get all their damn money and time to do all this shit? Could YOU afford to hop a plane, take time off from work to dig underground caverns, purchase the latest computer and video equipment just to satisfy your urges?

That's what scares me more than anything else. That they're so desperate, so willing to do anything and everything to get at kids for sex. This terrifies me.

Hold Yer Horses

2006-09-19T06:56:00.000-07:00

I can only write one post at a time!