Archive for the 'catharsis' Category

the great escape

it’s on kids.  iscosceles is going, going, getting out of dodge. 

physically, i’ve just landed in nyc after many weeks on the road.  but mentally, i’ve flown the coop.  and i couldn’t be happier. 

i’m not dwelling on the fact that it’s a shame and a waste and petty and unfair and all that.  onwards, upwards, bigger and better, and all the rest.  well, after i say this:

suck it, you petty, pathetic, provincial, myopic souls.  you cut off your nose to spite your face.  i’d say karma’s a bitch and all that, but it seems to me that you’re already miserable, insecure and to be pitied.  you have no idea what it’s like to feel good about who you are and what you do.  it’s a wonderful way to feel.  and when you do, you want other people to succeed as much as you do.  when you’re searching myspace and digging around for little tidbits to use on other people, you have a serious amount of introspection and self improvement you’re neglecting. 


ok, all better.  it needed to be gotten out. 

four days off- my first period of rest longer than 12 hours in six weeks is going to do loads of good for my disposition. 

the future’s bright, my friends, and for all of us.  you’ll see.


yippee ki-YAY

i will add more, my friends, when i have time to do so.  but, the moral of this story is this: don’t believe it when people tell you it’s too hard, or you’re too old, or it’s normal to be unhappy. 

go out and get whatever it is that makes you smile when getting up in the morning.  or grin the afternoon. 

it’s worth the work.

who would snoop on the internet?

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well, everyone, really.  google is a gateway to information about people you know, want to know, or need to know to avoid.  i don’t think there’s a single one of us that hasn’t googled a number or a person or a place, seeking out information that would otherwise be unavailable.

it seems that word has gotten out, friends, that i have a blog, this generations version of a locked diary.  you can disguise the names to protect the innocent (or guilty), and give yourself a modicum of anonymity, but that cheap little lock can still be picked with a bobby pin, dupe key you pick up at a five and dime or sheer will.  One doesn’t have to be a genius to find someone they’re looking for using combinations of words, especially if they’re looking for a unique phrase or name.

the thing is, you can drive yourself crazy.  people put all kinds of thoughts out there these days- the near infinite number of thoughts, rants, raves, opinions, etc., are mindboggling.  it’s the nearest thing we have to being able to read minds.

but, what you have to think about is this: would you want that ability?  i mean, really want it?  would you want to know absolutely everything everyone was thinking about you all the time?  you could drive yourself crazy that way.  hell, you can drive yourself crazy imagining it, or just thinking about it. 

there isn’t anything i would put on here that i wouldn’t tell someone to their face; i have no problem with confrontation and i know that anonymous is a disappearing concept. however, not every blogger realizes that.  so, in general, i guess my advice is this: if you don’t think you’re going to find something positive, don’t look for it.  and if you find it, deal with it.  you don’t know what the context is (the mood of the author, the tone of their writing, the intent in putting it in black and white).  And despite one’s ability to find something, it doesn’t mean it’s their business.

i hope you’ll excuse me while i go off to try and find out if my new imaginary boyfriend has a criminal record.

stab! bang! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh

well, kiddies, it’s happened.  i’ve finally gotten over the first hump: i acutally feel better.  my physical therapy has begun to have a lasting, measurable effect.

i noticed this going in to stab therapy on thursday.  i was walking in, and while not pain free, the pain was less pervasive and less severe than normal.  despite the utter teddy bear debacle that rained down on monday and all the associated stress that came with it, i wasn’t a complete wreck. 

i mean, you can only imagine.  i have my most important brand in my most important territory rocking, rolling and generally kicking aussie ass when my local agency goes bankrupt.  with a whole lotta my dough in the bank.  bucks that have already been spent to make the most amazing program- something i was planning on wowing my company and the industry with.  and bam!  lockdown.  and here i am on the other side of the world, holding the bills and not much else.  to top it off, try explaining to anyone that you’re staying up past midnight and feeling severely pressured because the freaking teddy bears are in crisis.  you don’t exactly engender a lot of sympathy.  or credibility, for that matter.

anyway.  i won’t go into detail because it just sounds more and more ridiculous.  the point is, people, that i feel the difference.  despite the stress and the travel and the irregular schedules and all of it.  i feel better.  i’ve been going to stab therapy for nearly nine months and was beginning to lose hope.

little by little, i’ve been healing.  i guess i just got to the point that it was appreciable enough for me to notice. 

or maybe it’s just due to all the sex.  whatever.  i’ll take it.

(total aside: spinal tap is on.  it’s the mini-bread scene.  christopher guest is genius.  i don’t know how they even get through the takes without losing it)

the boss of me

literalismi’m totally having one of those “dancing in the dark” moments.  you know, “i wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face…”

i’m not sure if bruce meant that expression of ennui to extend to your job, friends, family, name, home furnishings, country of residence… but i think he did.  and man, was he singing my tune.

you know that girl who has a great, fun job, an incredible apartment, many and good friends, is (relatively) financially solvent, blah, blah, blah and has no apparent reason to complain?  well here i am, and i’m doing it anyway.

i’m just exhausted.  i have to tell you (whoever you are, dear reader) that chronic pain really can put a damper on all the other stuff you’ve got going for you.  for years and years, i thought it was something i just had to live with and i was tough about it, and didn’t complain.  hell, my gimped out leg, banged up brain and creaky, crackly neck were not going to be the boss of me.  i laughed at their petty attempts to slow me down, to make me uncomfortable, to turn the world and my stomach upside down.  and i wasn’t going to take no pain killers or sleeping pills neither.  it just was.  me against them.  and i knew who was going to win that war.

 so then, a couple of years ago, i go to a new doctor and i hear this new whispering on the wind: you don’t have to hurt, you can be healed!  you can be saved!  you can be whole again!  it was like a tent revival with the elders speaking via the tongues of acupuncture needles, electronic stimulation and lidocaine injections (among other fun for the whole family).

there was this totally weird side effect: a begrudging hope.  i might wake up one day and not be hurting?  hell, that’s putting the cart before the horse.  i might be able to fall asleep one day, and not have the pain and tension keep me up and wake me up and wear me out the whole night through?  at first it seemed crazy talk.  but the more people i saw, the more my impending recovery was touted, the more i believed.

so, i go.  i get injected with syringes full of lidocaine in my neck, shoulder, hip, head and face twice a week.  about forty to fifty shots in all.  i get cracked and realigned and twisted and pushed and stretched at least once a week. i am coached to make my body relax to ease the pain in the name of rest and sleep for a couple hundred a month.  i spend seventy percent of my disposable income on copays, treatments not covered, prescriptions, you name it. 

 now comes the next weird side effect: defeat. 

 i’m not saying i don’t feel a bit better.  i do. a bit.  after treatment, usually the next day and maybe the day after that.  better, not good.  but the raised expectations have made the reality that much more demoralizing by comparison.

now, don’t get me wrong.  i know in the grand scheme of things, i’m floating on air.  nothing fatal, nothing debilitating, nothing acute.  it’s hard to articulate.  sometimes i think the worst part is that people are understanding, but they don’t understand.  get vertigo and have to will yourself not to wretch in glass building? i know trust me. pull a muscle?  that’s my daily condition.  tear a rotator cuff, arthritis stinging, strain a ligament?  i know i live it.  all the time. 

people don’t really want to hear it.  and you know what, guys, neither do i.  seriously.  i’d love not to talk about it, or think about it, or complain about it.  i feel like a heel right now.  a totally selfish, self-sorry jerk.

so what do i do now?  i keep trying.  i take the painkillers.  get the sleeping pills.  and if that doesn’t work, i think i might want to go back to my roots: telling the pain to fuck off and pretending it did.  it may not get better, but it will stop ruling my world. 

 just needed to get that off my chest.  thanks for listening.  i’ll go back to writing about inanity and pop culture and digital etiquette.

i promise.


“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”


Upon common theatres, indeed, the applause of the audience is of more importance to the actors than their own approbation. But upon the stage of life, while conscience claps, let the world hiss! On the contrary if conscience disapproves, the loudest applauses of the world are of little value - john adams
May 2018
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from the man who taught me everything:

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”