[Deviant Nation] suzy's Journal

Drama

suzy — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 03:47:01 GMT

There sure is a lot of it lately, but I've seen worse.

I need a new job. I need to reinvent myself. I do that periodically, but of course I'm always me. No way to get away from that. But I just ... evolve into something more (or less) complex.

Still a crap shoot on what I want to be if I ever grow up...

Love to you,
~Suzy

I Am The Perfect Enabler

suzy — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 19:53:58 GMT

~~I'm the biggest idiot in Los Angeles. That's really saying something.~~

Hahaha, it is not *that* dramatic, but I think I just had another one of my bright ideas.

Officially Christmas season now. I no longer begrudge them their displays and insipid music. I wish I knew how I was paying for this year. Other than that, I'm cool with it, I guess.

Listened to a few Christmas songs of my own yesterday:

The Pogues - Fairytale of New York

The Damned - There Ain't No Sanity Claus

Fear - Fuck Christmas

John & Yoko - Happy Christmas (War Is Over)

Stevie Wonder - Someday At Christmas

The Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight)

Stiff Little Fingers - White Christmas

Probably some more from the KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas albums. I usually buy them every year. Even went to a couple, in the 90's. Or those silly punk Christmas compilations. This year, I will attempt to increase my collection of rockabilly Christmas music. I know it's out there.

I guess I'm buying a pick'em up truck on Monday.

Love to you,
~Suzy

Happy Thanksgiving!

suzy — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 20:07:27 GMT

Hope everyone is having a nice fattening day with your loved ones of choice!

Like the good little alcoholic that I suddenly am, I put off shopping for today until this morning at 6 AM. I could only find a frozen turkey, so dinner time is up in the air, but it should still be good.

The pumpkin pie is *almost* done baking and it smells heavenly. I don't really like pumpkin pie, but it smells better than it tastes.

My boyfriend is out making the rounds and I'm home alone listening to Rufus ft. Chaka Khan.

Which is better than the 24 hours of Linkin Park that proceeded this choice. I don't normally listen to Linkin Park, or really anything that mainstream. It doesn't annoy me as much as it would TheSaint, purist that he is, but I'm sure everyone understands about listening to the music of their significant other in an attempt to understand them or bond with them or be disturbed by your perceptions of what they are thinking.

I know TheSaint understands this, though, because he secretly knows more about Morrissey than I do for roughly the same reason...

In fact, I think the only Morrissey song I even know is Girlfriend In A Coma.

Ironically, the Linkin Park music is like that song. All about killing. Kill, kill, kill!

Hahahahaha, now I'm going to go listen to James.

My therapist said not to see you no more
She said you're like a disease without any cure
She said I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no
Ah, you think you're so pretty

I will probably be institionalized from bad music before the day is over.

What the hell, I'm smiling. It's nice here in my little world. For now.

Love to you,
~Suzy

White Trash Families Have Trees, Too

suzy — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 17:46:34 GMT

Daron has a tutor at school. Yesterday was his 2nd week. He is very smart and his skills are pretty good, but he tests poorly. His attention span lags ... although it's not ADHD. He just needs more attention than he can get in a room with 31 students.

So the teacher told him that there was a "club" she was going to let 2 kids join. It would be lots of fun, there would be reading and snacks. She played it just right, so Daron was very flattered when he was picked as one of the two children.

I have mixed feelings. *MY* child needs a tutor? Riiiiiight.  But I figure he cannot help but benefit from the extra attention and the tutor seemed nice enough.

Yesterday she had Daron start to write his autobiography.  She decided that he should do a family tree. Since Daron took the boxty to school yesterday, she *assumed* that it would be an Irish family tree.

I was adopted at birth. I don't know anything about my birth parents except that which is listed in the non-identifying adoption file. I know their ages, general physical appearance, nationality of origin and precious little else. I know my father was a 20 year old medical student at UCSB, married with a baby -- not to my mother, and presumably Portuguese, which matches my physical appearance. My mother, on the other hand, was 28, blonde hair / blue eyes, presumably Irish and Norwegian, and walked dogs for a living. Those 2 sentences tell me everything I need to know about the nature of that relationship.

If abortion had been legal back then, I would never have been born. This is clear from the things my mother told the social worker. Not that this entry is about abortion or anything like that. I'm just glad I'm here. I'm sorry if my ma was inconvenienced for 9 months, but I'm grateful that she went through with it even if her choices were limited.

So ... I can't make a family tree from that. But with my adoptive parents, I know an awful lot more. I have traced my mother's family back to the 1620's when they arrived from England. My father's family got here from Germany in the 1890's and I pretty much know every branch of both sides of the tree since they have been here.

Well, the tutor didn't like this.  Why did I say we were Irish if I can't make a family tree that points to Ireland? I don't know. I had to pick something. Maybe it's my love for Irish punk or the alcoholic in me, but I just relate to that more than the ethnicity of the parents who raised me. I was going for the nature, not the nurture. I was trying to explain why my baby has red hair, blue eyes and freckles.

Besides, did you hear what I said about my mother's family? They have been here for almost 400 years. If you want me to be honest about my ethnicity of origin ... I'm a freakin' AMERICAN. You can't be much more American than 400 years in this country. Why do I have to be Irish or Dutch or Danish or Polish? I should have taken a damn apple pie instead of boxty.

She was clearly frustrated and started trying to build this generation's tree. Does Daron have brothers and sisters? Well, yeah, he has two 1/2 brothers and a 1/2 sister. And one of his 1/2 brothers has another 1/2 brother that the baby mama said could be Daron's brother, too. She wants to know who I was married to ... yeah, I had 2 husbands and another baby daddy. My 1st husband is on wife #3. My 2nd husband had another baby out of wedlock, the 1/2 sister.

By this time, the tutor was disgusted and she was having a hard time keeping it off of her face. She said, and I quote, "This is very confusing to me ... so it must be very confusing for Daron!"

Okay, lady, understand this: Not only is our family confusing and fucked up, filled with unwed pregnancies and prison terms and substance abuse and poverty, BUT we don't even hang with that family. MY family, except for the children, are all dead. His father's family doesn't have anything to do with us. So our REAL family aren't even related by blood! Our REAL family are the ones who love us, even when we're ugly.

It sucks to be so "different" all the time. Part of this is my fault. I have Daron in a better school than the one he's supposed to attend. In our neighborhood, I suspect that all of this confusion wouldn't be that different from the average kid, other than the fact that his light hair and eyes would make him stand out from the 93% Mexican status quo. Yeah, I have him in school in an upper middle class neighborhood and apparently you get to be that way by making better choices than I have.

I wish I could say I grew up with no problems, but I can say that my parents loved me, CHOSE me, and raised me the best they could. They stayed married for 37 years, until death. They were both virgins when they married each other. I wish I had a man I could keep, and that all my children were from his loins, and that when I looked into his eyes all these years later there were still rocket ships and shooting stars and fireworks. It's just not my story.

Why does everyone always want me to be something that I'm not?

Why do I care?

Love to you,
~Suzy

Boxty

suzy — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 18:23:26 GMT

Boxty on the griddle
Boxty on the pan
If you can't make boxty
You'll never get a man

I can make boxty. I have a man, but not because of the boxty. I wish my life were as simple as all that.

EDIT: Boxty is an Irish potato dish made from raw and mashed potatoes. It can be made like dumplings, pancakes or loaves. There is really no limit to what you can do with boxty. Daron and I made pancakes. It looked similar to this:

Daron and I got up bright and early this morning and cooked enough boxty for his entire class. It's the day that they have their little feast of traditional foods of their origin.

That left a lot of latitude for us. I mean, sure, we have Irish in us. And about 57 other things. I could have cooked virtually anything and found a way to tie it to our past culture.

I'm good about making pieces fit. You CAN put a square peg in a round hole if you have a big enough hammer.

When I'm closing in on death
And you can't help me, not you guys
And all you sweet girls with all your sweet silly talk
You can all go take a walk
And I guess that I just don't know

I hope Daron has a nice day at school. That's probably the best I can hope for any more.

Love to you,
~Suzy

Still ... Something

suzy — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 18:08:11 GMT

Well, technically, at this moment I am not loaded on anything but I wouldn't call me sober.

Codependency is my drug of choice, so I've really been loaded for the last 3 months. As usual, alcohol is just a symptom of a MUCH bigger problem. And AA doesn't concern itself with relationships, so even if you admit with your loud voice that your love affair is like active addiction, they just pat you on the head and tell you to pray about it.

So when you can't get high off your "drug of choice" any more and the consequences of using "love" start to be huge and critical, the next indicated action is to clean up. Abstinence. One kiss is too many and 1000 orgasms is never enough. Recovery.

Or self-destruct.

I'm not supposed to talk about it. It's a secret. No one knows but me and him and I suppose Oly. I was wrong. Or maybe I was right and we aren't talking about THAT either. But I'm not wrong any more and I know it and he knows it and we know it together and I wish I didn't know, because it makes me know this:

It is the end, but I don't like to let go. I predict it will take 18-19 more days until one or both of us are completely dead, at least inside, if not literally.

And that will wreck Christmas.

It's probably not too late to save my life, but it's still too late to save anything I cared about just one week ago.

If I ever get in a relationship EVER AGAIN, please remind me that my PICKER IS BROKEN and if the motherfucker who shows up is as sweet and wonderful as my deluded mind tells me he is, I WILL fuck that up, too.

And please tell me ... WHY is it, every time I cry, why is THAT the particular time that they always decide to be mean? Yell? Leave? Tell me what is wrong with me? Tell me that what I want (a hug? to take a drive? to have $5 coffee? to snuggle in bed for 5 more minutes?) "isn't them?" I could understand if I was yelling or throwing things or calling names or making threats. But I never even raise my voice. I just cry because I'm sad. And they take that as a sign that I deserve mistreatment. It's happened too many times to be "him;" the only thing any of them ever had in common was me. What is the matter with ME?

It doesn't matter. If doing the things I love and crave "was them," I'm sure it wouldn't be for long. I kill pretty things.

Love to you,
~Suzy

P.S. Yes, I know this is over the top dramatic. This is where I vent, where it won't get back to anyone I know in real life, where it won't break any trusts or cause any more fighting or heartache. I really *HOPE* I'm overreacting to everything, but even if I am ... ADDICTION IS A KILLER, A MURDERER AND A COWARD and it is alive and well and living in my home, my castle, my sanctuary. In some ways -- certainly not in the style of telling the story but in some of the facts I care to omit -- I'm probably actually smoothing this over rather than building it up.

National Transgender Day of Remembrance

suzy — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 20:46:27 GMT

I'm so against hate. Misunderstanding. Judgment. Lack of compassion. Narrow mindedness.

I'm talking about me, of course. I'm talking about how I embody all of those things. I'm talking about how I'm both the perpetrator and the victim.

Well, a couple things happened today. I got an email from my friend, Eva. She used to be Evan, and I had NO IDEA that any of that was going on inside her head. Evan was married, with 2 children, active at church, clean cut and worked as a circuit board engineer. He was the last guy I ever expected to see in a skirt. Anyway, she didn't lose her life in her transformation, but she did sacrifice just about everything short of that, including her penis. For her, I post this video:

So, let's humor me. Let's have a day of peace, patience and tolerance. Let's try to walk a few blocks in my stripper shoes before pointing and laughing because I fell down.

The other thing ... I don't know ... I feel very loved right now. Hopeful that I have a plan. Hopeful that every step backward is just so you can view the delightful scene up ahead from a slightly different angle.

But it is so precarious. Like, I could sneeze and the whole ivory tower could fall down on my head.

I have so many questions. I don't have many answers. There is one question I want to ask so bad, but I figure it cannot go well, if I can even get an honest answer. If it's true, it's a bummer. If it's not true, it's a bummer that I'm thinking it. Knowledge is not always power; ignorance is not always bliss.

Anyway, be good to folks today. Everyone has a story. They don't mean to be assholes. They can't help being different than you want them to be. They have their own path.

Eva, for the record, is a better Christian than most I've known. They would tar and feather her for who she is ... if they could. She would just turn the other cheek and say that God was using her to reach someone and teach them acceptance. I'm really not that spiritual.

I wish I could shut off my head without doing something drastic. Like ... an on/off switch would be really convenient. I'm already tiring of the stupidity that I have introduced into my world, but I sure like the silence. The voices in my head are all just chillin' on the couch, sucking down a cold one and watching mindless TV in harmony. I wish I didn't have to poison them to make them behave like that.

Maybe what I really need is an exorcism! :fuckyou:

Love to you,
~Suzy

So Here's The Deal...

suzy — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 23:05:53 GMT

I'm not miserable. It always works real good ... until it doesn't. I just wish people would stop talking.

Lalala ... I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

Love to you,
~Suzy

I Am Fuck! Fuck of the Mountain!

suzy — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 17:16:08 GMT

Big, strange changes around the house. I did something that I haven't done in a while and I really don't know how to feel about it.

I drank. I gave away my super cool sobriety date of 6/6/06.

And then, I went out and got some of that non-addictive marijuana.

It wasn't awful. It *did* bring the relief I sought. I did stop the chatter in my head. I did have the best sex I've had in YEARS. Sober sex has always been awkward to me, so my (sober) boyfriend is now strutting around, saying,

"I AM FUCK ... FUCK OF THE MOUNTAIN!!!"

And what of this sober boyfriend? The one that struggles and was presumably going to be the one to imbibe and change/complicate this situation? Yep, he stays strong while I throw caution to the wind and tempt the hand of fate to come and slap me around some more. He just sat there and watched me drink ... first a bottle of wine, then a bottle of Jaeger, then about 3 bowls of the pot. He doesn't seem to be disappointed, angry, tempted, sad. He even said that this could be our dirty little secret, just between he and I, but I'm not going to pretend that I didn't drink just to save face in AA. That's stupid. It's always been my opinion that if I have to lie to fit in somewhere, I don't belong there.

In fact, he seems to be happier since "the incident" than I've seen him in a long time. Could it be that he likes me better drunk?

Is this the beginning? Is this the end? What have I done?

Love to you,
~Suzy

No Subject

suzy — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 04:39:51 GMT

FUCK!

A Good Day

suzy — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 16:36:55 GMT

Some days just work...

Despite the fact that everyone at the pad has low grade sniffles and probably can't think straight, there is a calm we haven't had in a while.

Daron has stopped torturing my boyfriend for no reason. He still says EWWWWW!!! if we kiss, but I suppose that is to be expected.

The cat has learned to stop cockblocking and just sleeps on the side of the bed.

My darling, wonderful boyfriend just called to make sure I know that he loves me and that we are doing this deal for reals ("not just tolerating each other" as he said). He wanted to make sure that I know that he knows he is utterly spoiled.

And at noon, I'm leaving work early to get a massage. After that, I'm going to get my nails done. I'm spoiled, too!

Love to you,
~Suzy

Jail / Prison Music

suzy — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 00:38:32 GMT

K ... I'm on a strange kick.

Tell me every song you can think of that's about doing time. I don't care about what genre, although you know I like the punk rock most. There seems to be a lot of reggae music about doing time and that thug Jamaican rap stuff. Heh. I don't even know what it's called, let alone the songs.

Anyway, I don't care what it sounds like ... just need more songs.

K, thanks!

Love to you,
~Suzy

Dia de Los Muertos

suzy — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 02:52:46 GMT

Yesterday was my mother's birthday. She died 14 years ago, but she would have been 91. That's old.

How appropriate that the annual Dia de Los Muertos festival was yesterday. I think it is my very favorite Canoga Park activity. If you had ever been to Canoga Park, this wouldn't be hard to understand. CP is too clean to be a city and too dirty to be a suburb. It is totally devoid of culture. It is just a place to live with a couple good shops on Sherman Way.

If you want to know more about the holiday tradition, this seems to be a good website --> http://www.mexconnect.com/mex_/muertos.html

Anyway, it is heavily celebrated in Mexico and since Canoga Park is a lot like Mexico (we even have a sister city there) it is heavily celebrated here, too.

I particularly like the cars.

Don't really understand the bicycles, but they seem to be into it.

The people who attend are mostly ethnic, ranging from authentic...

To just plain dead people...

To thug life, for tots...

To us!

One of my favorite parts of the festival are the chalk drawings. They range from simple drawings by children to very involved portraits of people who are being honored in death.

And this is what I do to have fun and happiness when the only message at home is...

In fact, this has inspired me to design a tattoo very similar to this shirt and put it on the back of my arm next to Betty. Now I have a plan for ink! Yay!

What did you do this weekend?

Love to you,
~Suzy

Depression's Got A Hold On Me ... Depression, It's Gonna Kill Me!

suzy — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 19:07:59 GMT

Man, I got a weight on my heart. I'm not depressed, but my man is. It tears at my soul. I would do anything to help him, but I can't. I'm powerless. And I'm watching him just self-destruct. Soon, I can picture a needle in his arm. Once the heroin has a hold of him, it will be no contest. As Lou Reed said, "It's my wife and it's my life." I can't stick around and be the mistress. And then it will be another broken heart for Suzy.

It probably started long before we were together, but the excitement of a new relationship can sometimes provide the stimulation to snap out of it ever so slightly. He was the best. Just truly the best, but then things started to change. Of course, in my head, it was all about me and I started to cry a lot. But I'm not that girl. I'm happy-go-lucky. I'm strong and I'm brave. I had to reach deep inside myself and pull myself back up. I'm not going down like that.

I was on vacation all week and it just didn't live up to my expectations. Living with a depressed person is NOT my idea of fun. It felt like I had a weight around my neck. I tried to stick close to my friends and I had several guys offer to nurse my broken heart with ... God, that's just gross. Don't you know I really care about him? I'm not fucking anyone else just so I can feel better. I don't know why guys are guys sometimes, but in some weird way it was comforting to know that it's not me. I am good enough. Shit, in my 40-something white trash world, I'm QUEEN of the trailer park.

But what I did do still felt wrong. Yet it snapped me out of my own brooding. I was sitting around on Thursday, feeling pretty sorry for myself and wondering how much longer I could put on the brave face and keep the psycho locked up inside. Yeah, I'm that girl, too, and I make no apologies. Well, until later, at least. I can't seem to apologize before I snap (meaning: not act out in the first damn place).

So I met this guy while I was having my first cup of coffee. He pulled up on a Victory Hammer motorcycle, with his little Pomeranian dog in "doggles" riding inside his jacket. It was so damned cute, I asked if I could take a picture. That's when I discovered that I didn't have my phone with me. We chatted for a while and then parted ways.

An hour later, I was sitting in MY bar, playing Spades against a machine, when he walked in again, this time without his dog. He accused me of stalking him since I was clear across town and I noted that I'm GOOD because I can show up BEFORE he does. I have extra special powers of perception.

So I don't know, he paid attention to me, something that I've been STARVED for since my man has disappeared inside his own head. And when he asked if I wanted to jump on his motorcycle and go to the beach, I said no. But he saw the hesitation and he asked again, adding, "What better thing do you have to do?" I just didn't have a good answer for that.

It was the perfect motorcycle riding day and we took Topanga Canyon all the way to Malibu, which is just about the perfect ride. He kept talking about having adventures and just living life ... pretty much my creed for living. But I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I had just jumped on another man's bike ... holding on to him tight because his insane riding skills really pumped up the adrenaline and the fear of falling off ... to have an adventure, wind in my face, not a care in the world ... hell, with a man I didn't know, no phone, and no one had even known I left with him.

We had a great burger at the Malibu Inn. The conversation was witty and challenging. He was so smart and entertaining. But I just kept thinking ... WHY can't my man want to LIVE? WHY do I have to do this with someone else? I had a great time, but I didn't really want to be there.

It did, however, clear the cobwebs from my head and make ME want to live. I am grateful for yet another experience in this crapshot called life.

And Scott? Well, he didn't even care. I do appreciate that he isn't a jealous man. If he were, we would be in big trouble all the time. But still ... sometimes I just wish he cared a little more than he did about what I was doing. I wish he wasn't lost in his own little world.

And I wish I could talk about this more in my real life world, but everyone knows him. I can't tell tales. I never want him to look bad, because he's GOOD. He just needs some kind of help, probably medication, and more than I can give him right now.

I hope the light doesn't go out at the end of the tunnel. I really want this one to work. He tells me not to give up on him but it's so hard when he has already given up on himself.

Love to you,
~Suzy

DN SF -- Silly Tales and a Bunch of Pictures

suzy — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 11:32:01 GMT

I've been reading everyone's journals about the goings on in San Francisco and I don't think I can top their stories. Here were my highlights:

Seeing old friends!!!

Meeting new friends!!! Holy crap there are some beautiful women on this site.

Being molested by same beautiful women!!! I have never had my boobs grabbed so many times in one weekend. My bf is kinda mad at you all for making them sore but I told him that sharing is caring.

Arin ... need I say more about that? So freakin' hot! I left her on my desktop at home to keep the bf company while I was gone, but I was the lucky one because I had her in real life.

Overheard from a queen walking behind us in the Mission District: Liquor? I don't even know her!

A bar with drinks like Bitchen Camaro and White Trash something or other. Almost made me want to drink. Almost.

Wearing a Deviant Nation sticker on my chest and having someone ask if it was a real tattoo. Ummm, yeah. At least he didn't ask if it hurt...

Buying Daron a t-shirt that reads "My Momma Says I'm Special" from the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company. And the shrimp. And the company.

Stitch biting me hello -- an annual event!

A drunken Cooter explaining (in ridiculous detail) about beard bukaki. It's okay, though, because he's crunk.

Rescuing Aradia from drunken Cooter when he went to throw her in the trash.

Chocolate at Ghirardelli Square with the lovely MissD, MR_ED, and corporate_punk.

Baunfire being the tallest women I have ever met. As luck would have it that made her boobs exactly even with my face and I used this fact to my advantage on several very happy occasions.

A drunken Aries and ExoticViv wrestling in my bed. I hope they didn't have too many bruises the next day.

Running off on Sunday morning to decompress ... I will probably write more about this in a couple days, but I hung out on Scott Street (REALLY missed the boy) and at the Palace of Fine Arts. So pretty!

A special thank you to Gwindylyn and Satan for finding time to hang out with me before the event. I know you were crazy busy, but I loved seeing you again and you know how to throw a party, for reals.

I feel like I am barely glossing over the weekend and the event but it is 4:37 AM, peeps, and I am delirious from lack of sleep. Thank goodness I am off all this week. A vacation to recover from my vacation.

Anyway, here is the flickr folder for the event --> http://www.flickr.com/photos/15817353@N07/sets/72157608471144214/

Enjoy!

Love to you,
~Suzy

2 AM

suzy — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 09:06:10 GMT

The party is over, it's time to go home. It's okay, I'm homesick. Still...

ENVY ME!

There will be pictures.

But right now, there are two very drunken women with very large boobs wrestling in my bed.

XOXO
Suzy

Gah!

suzy — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 19:22:12 GMT

So...

My hard drive crashed this morning and I'd like to say it was backed up but since it's my work computer, I have best practices for everything except my personal shit and my Outlook. In other words, it could be worse, but not by much. I am sick to my stomach right now.

I also have to choose between a cut in pay and being laid off and I have to decide before I leave for San Francisco. I will probably go with the cut in pay but I'm really not sure. With the catastrophic computer failure, walking out and never looking back doesn't seem like a bad option. If I walk out, I get about 2 months (full) pay, which *should* be enough to look for another job. If I stay, I get less money and the company could still choose to overlook my loyalty or even go out of business. But I have almost 8 years invested in this place. It is making my head hurt.

My guy is so depressed right now. I need him to be strong for me and he can't. I caused some, but not all, of the depression so I can't really be too demanding. Actually, I would give everything I own to just make him happy and alright again. He is such a great guy. But if we are both depressed for too long at the same time, I'm afraid it will be "you and me against each other" instead of "you and me against the world."

Money really IS the root of despair ... if not evil.

Seagate tools are 89% run. If I can recover my Outlook, I guess I will be grateful enough to spend my vacation reloading the computer ... again. I commandeered this laptop from one of the people who was already laid off but it has Vista and I can't / won't use it.

It's times like this that I wish I still drank.

Love to you,
~Suzy