Stupid, Little, Whiny, Brat!

I need a nap. Can I have a nap?
--No.
Are you sure??
--Yes!
Yes, I can haz nap or yes you're sure?

--NO!
No you're not sure or no I can't haz nap?
--NO YOU CAN'T HAVE A NAP!!!
Fine! (jerk)

I didn't sleep well last night. I blame it on my circadian rhythm. The alarm was set to go off at 7:15 this morning, but I woke at 6:30 instead. I found myself looping through the no, I want to stay asleep, but I can't because my medicine wore off, but I'll try anyway in case I can, and now I'm frustrated because I can't fall back to sleep phase.

I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, popped some stimulants, got ready for the day and went on. I'm so tired, so very very tired. I can't nap! The stimulants won't allow it today. What's with that? Sometimes they keep me awake and sometimes they act like they have Narcolepsy! All I want to do is sleep. Ahhh, luxurious fluffy cloud sleep, dead to the world, paralyzed muscles, dreams... ahhh... but alas, I cannot.

I think I want to be him. Don't you?
Doesn't he look sooooo comfy? I'm jealous!

Talking to you, my little Bedtime Bear supersleeper.

You know what happens when I don't get a nap?



That's right. I get grumpy. I'm totally grumpy bear, and I probably will be forever.

--You're so negative.

No, I'm electron!

Yesterday I found myself feeling a little negative Nancy and wondered what causes a bad mood. I consulted Google God and found an interesting Wired article. After I'd educated myself on the idea of my pissed off ego and thwarted goals, I vowed that the next time I felt perturbed I'd be sure to be aware of it.

Ah, what do you know? It's one day later. Today it happened when I couldn't have a nap (it's happening now, as I type this, and this and this). Once it was clear to me that I was being a BRAT, like a child, I decided to consult Google God with the search STUPID LITTLE WHINY BRAT. There was a picture in Google God Images of that little jerk, Calliou. Don't get me wrong, he's cute... sort of but also not at all because he sucks at life and always gets his way. Sorry Calliou! (No, I'm not. Don't tell him or he'll cry.) I clicked on his dumb picture and found Giftedly Outspoken's Blog. It made me LOLzzz and those ZzzZzzZzz's are calling.



I think this song was written from a proton to an electron.




"Animal"

Here we go again
I kinda wanna be more than friends
So take it easy on me
I'm afraid
You're never satisfied
Here we go again
We're sick like animals
We play pretend
You're just
A cannibal
And I'm afraid
I won't get out alive
I won't sleep tonight

Oh oh
I want some
More
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
Take a bite of
My heart tonight
Oh oh
I want some
More
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
What are you waiting for
Say goodbye to my heart
Tonight

Here we are again
I feel the chemicals kickin' in
It's getting heavy
And I wanna run
And hide
I wanna run and hide
I do it every time
You're killin' me now
And I won't be
Denied by you
The animal inside of you

Oh oh
I want some more
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
Take a bite of my heart tonight
Oh oh
I want some more
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
What are you waiting for
Say goodbye to my heart tonight

Hush, hush The world is quiet
Hush, hush We both can't fight it
It's us that made this mess
Why can't you understand?
Whoa, I won't sleep tonight

Here we go again [3x]

Oh oh
I want some more
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
Take a bite of my heart tonight
Oh oh
I want some more
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
What are you waiting for
What are you waiting

Here we go again [3x]
Say goodbye to my heart tonight

Oh oh
I want some more
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
Take a bite of my heart tonight
Oh oh
I want some more
Oh oh
What are you waiting for
What are you waiting for
Say goodbye to my heart tonight

Fran... Oh, Fran!

For some odd reason, odder than most, I find myself compelled to write about Fran Lebowitz. Who is this woman? What is the purpose for my intrigue? I have no insightful comments to make. I barely know her, not that I know her at all. I've never met her, but for a moment as I watched part of a documentary called Public Speaking, it seems I did.

Maybe I find her amazing because she doesn't appear to care much for appearance. She smokes heavily, and she says what is on her mind. At least, it seems she does. I watched about five minutes of this documentary, and in that time I realized that I kind of love her. For some odd reason... Odder than most. I don't generally fall "in love" with strange women. Not that I am "in love" with her. She is interesting, as in cutting against the grain.

The DVR is set to record the next showing of this film. At that time, maybe I'll find out why I like her this way. Perhaps I'll end up hating her. I have no idea. But for the fact that I am here... writing about someone I know nothing about, finding her absolutely intriguing, there must be something about this woman that has drawn my attention.

I find I connect with few people. I mean really connect with them on any deep level. Yet, it's impossible to connect with Fran on a deep level. I've never met her. She's 36 years above my age, we look nothing alike, I don't smoke, I don't wear tailored suits, and she talks A TON! I barely talk at all.

We are opposites, but we are writers.

Narcolepsy Network Conference

Take a train?
Take a bus?
Take a plane?

Narcolepsy causes all sorts of confusion. Like the fact that it's going to take me months to figure out how I'll get to the Narcolepsy Network conference this year, if I get there at all. The reason for my extended planning won't be because I'm working out the details with money, even though I will be, but rather because I'll be diving in and out of shallow sleepy waters.

The decisions involved in this should be simple. But they won't be. I know that I'll end up checking out the trains, figuring out where I need to go and if a bus is involved first. I'll second guess myself and what I've read. I'll stare at my computer screen forgetting what I'm doing, and then I'll get frustrated and need to take a nap.

When I come back to my task at hand, I'll be back at the beginning, and I'm sure I'll give up on the whole idea countless times. Countless partly because I'm in such a fog I can't keep track... and also because... well, as I'm writing this I've forgotten my other point ;) I've already abandoned the idea three times since yesterday because it becomes difficult to make a decision. 

There are schedules to work out, times to depart, times to arrive, to make sure I am there at the right time for check in and check out while not sitting in a bus station or train station for so long that I fall asleep and miss the entire thing ;) Just kidding! Or am I? I'm not sure that I'm sure!

I've not yet attended a NN conference, but I'm increasingly excited to do this. It would be wonderful to meet other PWN (people with Narcolepsy). I've never met one in person that I am aware. Of course, my PWN friends who are all becoming more and more like family have been wonderful to talk with online. If it weren't for them, I would be facebookless. I don't particularly enjoy facebook, but it does allow for connections I would otherwise be without.


Want to know what I've used a spellchecker for during this blog post? The word plane (plain or plane). This is embarrassing for someone who was once great with vocabulary and also claims to be a writer. Ha!

Waiting

 Waiting erodes the heart. It withers us down until we are gone.

Raising Money for The Cove

Hello, and thanks for checking out my Birthday Wish!

For my birthday on March 7th, I'm asking my friends and family for a special gift: help me raise $250 for "The Cove" - Save Japan Dolphins. It's a great cause that will end the slaughter of over 20,000 dolphins in Japan each year

I chose "The Cove" - Save Japan Dolphins because animals deserve to be treated with respect. Not only is this activity brutal, but the dolphins are secretly sold as whale meat in markets in Japan. Dolphin meat is dangerously high in mercury!

Please consider giving to my Birthday Wish, and together we can make the world a better place. If you can't give now, I'd really appreciate if you'd share this page with your friends.

Thanks so much,

Crystal

Here is where donations can be made

SEVEN things YOU can do NOW to help DOLPHINS

   1.)  Write to the people in charge!

• Sign the petition on Facebook
• Sign the petition on ThePetitionSite.com
• Share the petition with our Japanese Friends
• Join Facebook with The Cove

   2.)  Learn about the lives of dolphins in captivity!

• Pledge not to buy a ticket to a Dolphin Show by signing this Petition
• Watch this short Video about the intelligence of dolphins with Dr. Lori Marino

   3.)  Visit the Japanese Cove website, and share with friends

   4.)  Support Earth Island's efforts to educate the Japanese public by donating Here

   5.)  Stand up to Zoos and Aquariums. Ask them to stop using dolphins in shows by signing this Petition. 

   6.)  Volunteer to help Earth Island!

   7.)  Make a tax-deductible donation Now!

It's easy to feel helpless, but anything you can do to help is something, it's more than nothing! And everything we do brings us all closer to ending this animal cruelty!

It isn't too late to join the millions of humans and thousands of dolphins! What have you done to help?

Haunted by the Echo

The troubled are calling.
Are you listening?

When you think of the ocean, what is it that you find with your senses? Typical answers would be your toes sinking into the sand, the water rushing against your ankles, the smell of fishy salty water, the lull of the tide.

When I was a little girl, I wanted nothing more than to be a mermaid. Maybe it was the red hair connection I shared with Ariel. Who knows? But when I realized I couldn't actually be a mermaid, my hopes fell toward marine biology. I didn't actually know what a marine biologist was when my friend told me to use that as my "what I want to be when I grow up" answer in second grade. However, that smart girl opened my eyes to a beautiful world far away from my own.

So why is the once majestic blue water turning red inside my mind? Why is it that the water no longer rushes quietly over the sand? If you don't know the answer, then you are just as unaware as most of us. I'd put off watching The Cove because I knew it could only break my heart. I fought myself, everyone told me not to watch it, but some things are more powerful than the self.

The beginning of the documentary was informative and educational. It showed people doing exactly what I have always wanted to do, or what I have done. There were people watching Flipper, swimming with dolphins, viewing shows at places like Sea World. Humans loving animals... and like so many other times, causing them much more harm than good... But then there were those that risked their lives to save them.

I am so grateful to people like Ric O'Barry, originally responsible for the dolphins used in the Flipper T.V. show, who has respectively retreated from the world of dolphin captivity. He has done everything in his power to save dolphins, to free them from the grasp of the money hungry hunters. He's been repeatedly arrested for his efforts in different areas of the world. He's been successful, but the greatest success has yet to come. I believe The Cove will be a large factor in saving these intelligent creatures.

.........

Dolphins use an incredibly complex sonar system for understanding the world around them. They can scan our bodies in such detail that the beating heart of a child in a womb could be visible. The people responsible for ending the lives of the dolphins in Taiji, Japan drive their boats out between the months of September to April in sight of dolphin pods. When a group is found, the hunters lower a metal rod into the water and begin banging on it from above. Their intention is to confuse the dolphins because the sound will interfere with their innate use of sonar. The men continue banging on the rods, the sound echoing through the water, driving the dolphins nearer to the cove.

My heart feels broken, my stomach weak, my eyes are sore and dry from the salty tears. I watched the dolphins swimming, jumping out of the water, as the boats sailed behind them with the banging of the metal rods. Once the dolphins were cornered into the cove, the nets went up to keep them inside. After the dolphins have been picked through by those that wish to purchase them for entertainment purposes, the rest are brutally slaughtered...
...................

The rock line was already stained by the blood from past bodies, but the water had suitably returned to a normal color... And without preparations, I knew it wouldn't be long. After the dolphins were cornered and picked through, the rest were left to die. I watched as the many spears came down, thrusting into the dolphins bodies repeatedly. They tried to jump, but their wounded and bleeding bodies could only struggle. My eyes welled with tears that fell faster as the cries became fewer, and the struggling became weaker. My entire body convulsed as I collapsed into my boyfriend's arms. And as the water turned redder, the men grew richer.

It doesn't matter how hard I try to get past this, how much I fight, I feel the defeat of these animals within my own body. Their cries go on, playing inside my mind, a tune I will regretfully never erase. Last night while in my comfortable bed, I woke from my already weakened sleep to the images I never want to forget, and I never want to remember.

How quickly the water turned red... Dark blue to bright red.

Figure it out Freud

This is something I wrote in 2007. I am re-posting it for some friends that haven't had a chance to see this entry. This was well before I knew I had Narcolepsy, but I do remember this being a time of increased struggle with the beginnings of the worsening of the condition, although, I feel I've had this illness much longer.



The room was small and had no windows to climb through. One spider found a safe place to make a home in the corner where the ceiling met the wall. All I had was a can of spray paint, so I shook it up and fired. Tiny spiders started falling one by one, and eventually there were so many that I couldn't see. I watched them growing from specs of sand to quarters. We found ourselves surrounded. Spiders were flying above our heads while jumping from wall to wall. Joel and I tried to escape, but there were no windows, there was no door. There was no way out.. Revenge was worth it to them, because shortly after we were dead.

I had a dark horse, something I truly loved. I was brushing it one day getting ready for some important event. Somehow I tickled the horse with the brush and it tried to tickle me back.. but that lead to him almost biting my head off. So I ran. I ran and he chased me, but I made it inside the door before he could get to me. I realized I was dreaming. I told myself to leave my body like last time, but I only made it halfway out. I could feel something wasn't right. It started to hurt and my body shook violently for what felt like hours. I tried to make sounds, I wanted someone to wake me up... but no one in the room could see me shaking and no one could hear me. Shortly after, my mind woke while my body kept sleeping. I was trapped in a place I couldn't escape, in my own body, somewhere in my mind. I felt so much pain. The pains shot throughout my body, even my teeth were hurting. My nerve endings were burning and I was afraid I'd never make it back. I woke up confused and so exhausted I could barely move. My body was still hurting and so were my teeth. I never wanted to sleep again.


Recently I moved to a new house with my parents, but the yard looks exactly the same as our old one. Maybe it wasn't such a secret... I don't know how he found me there. He was someone close to me in the past, someone I've ignored the warning signs for. I guess I should've listened to myself... One of my biggest fears is rape. I'm terrified of the thought, but who wouldn't be? I was raped in my yard the other night, near the fence.. and this is as much as I can remember. My father found out, and he killed this man. He chopped him perfectly into tiny little squares and carried the pieces in a burlap sack. We thought about what to do with the pieces. We could bury them or put the body to rest. We could burn them and drown the ashes. We opened the sack to find the pieces had turned to little pebbles of dog food. It would be far too strange to feed them to any animal, so now we're left wondering what to do, how this happened, and how to cover up the murder.

These stories were all very strange dreams. For the most part I can't control what happens in my mind while I sleep. It's sometimes very scary, I'm hoping for something a little happier tonight. I've been able to sleep with Joel for about the past week so I felt much better, much safer, but tonight I'm alone with the creatures in my head. :(

Do You Find the Smell of Death... Refreshing?

My story: I will admit I'm poor. I don't have a job, but I didn't quit working because it made life easier. I wasn't thinking whooo hoo now I can stay home and play with all the free money I'll have. I quit because of illness.

I'm young; I don't even have a credit card (except an old Kohl's card). Everything I've ever bought, I've paid for. I can't drive much these days, my car isn't the best, but I paid it off the day I bought it. I own an "expensive" bed, which I bought before I learned of my illness thinking I'd be more refreshed each day. I've lived an extremely stressful life and dealt with it. I tried hard to do the best I could in school, went to college for a couple years (to which I owe no debt) to get a "decent job," something to pay the bills with.

I planned to go back to school after finding employment. However, I was turned down for the jobs I applied, because even with schooling and internships, I didn't have the experience required. I found other work. All the while, I had applied for insurance, received insurance (all costs out of my own pocket), and experienced such great price increases that I could not afford the only plan I was told I could be offered. My only choice was to drop the coverage I had. Shortly after, I was diagnosed with a new illness. All tests and lab work were paid out of my own pocket. Think I was getting coverage then? Yeah, right. I tried and fought as hard as I could to stay in work, but it became too much. I had to quit, and I've been denied disability. Believe me, I didn't plan for this life. I don't want to ask for money. I'd like to earn my own!


We're going further. PUT DOWN YOUR SHIELDS. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS.


There is a problem when people are constantly talking about the poor class, the middle class, as if they are all on drugs, popping out babies, and asking for free government help. That isn't the case. I believe our attention is being diverted, we're being forced to put blame on each other and point fingers. We scoff at others, act as if they are asking us to pay their way.

The problem is not with your neighbor, it's with the large corporations who have sent our jobs overseas, refused to offer health care for their employees, kept hours down so they wouldn't have to, and wouldn't allow vacation time, which in turn, causes people stress and illness! We've allowed this to happen, we watch the little box and believe everything it has to say. We get the magazines and go out to buy the things inside on credit. We put the items inside our pollution spewing cars, and we bring our findings inside the extravagant homes we don't own to fill up the space we don't need. And then we shout socialist at those who say we don't need it, those that try to DEPRIVE us.

We allow our fellow humans to be put to death for an imaginary war, an image that was created. We call Anti-Americanism on those who don't support this, those that don't believe this. We don't read the important words because we're too busy staring at the pretty faces on the magazine cover. AND we sit here arguing over topics we ALL only know snippets about. We could spend this time educating ourselves, finding our own solutions, working toward ways to bring this about to our government. Yet, we sit here arguing. I am poor, but I would not dare complain if about paying a bit more in taxes to help others receive life and health if I made, oh say... $200,000 a year. It's sickening the way we treat other humans. It almost makes me wish I were one of the cows waiting to be on your dinner plate next week.

The Road Ahead

I've been spending time lately with documentaries and articles. For some reason I've been hit with the need to learn more! It's been a point for me to learn something new every day for a long time now, but this is reaching a new point. I'm going out into the realm of things that make me uncomfortable. I'm writing about these topics once I face what I learn. Maybe through this, there will be an answer for me... It's possible that I'll be able to understand why people are doing certain things, or why the things they do are bothering me! If anything, it's possible I'll at least find an answer that is somewhat satisfying. I hope that will be the case. And when I'm not trying to figure out what I don't like, I'll read the opinions of others whether I agree with them or not.

Here is a link to an interesting article: Intelligent Article Against Porn

I hope that in the future, even though I both do and don't agree with this, I can convey my feelings as well as Naomi Wolf.

Still working on my novel of course :)

The Dreaded Block

I've been wondering why or how I can possibly write something so beautiful one day and the next find myself with absolutely nothing to say. Sometimes it's almost as if I have given up on it all, and I realize that something is standing in the way. I don't really want to give it all up, not really. So what's the problem?

The door has shut on my last few chapters. I'm brave enough to admit this: I have writer's block, and I hate those two words together. Admitting this and typing it, making the realism of it come to life, is causing a burning deep inside my stomach. It's almost like the pain of a broken heart, a death of a loved one, salt in the coffee instead of sugar.

But I've had a great deal of pain in my now 24 years of life. I know how bad it hurts to admit something is wrong, to face it instead of shoving it someplace deep inside. Actually, that's what I've been doing. There is a fireproof, keypad entry box somewhere inside me that I've managed to shove everything into and now it's full. Opening this box is going to destroy me for a few days, especially when the Narcolepsy gets wind, but it must happen. This is now unavoidable.

So my brain has concluded, it's time to get out the Therapy Monsters notebook "we" created. No matter how difficult this will be, it has to happen. "We" wanted to follow Tracy's advice a couple months ago, really! "We" knew it would hurt so bad, so "we" only created it, and didn't follow her advice.

It's time... and I'm distracted by the Lion King in my head when they raise the next king over the crowd of animals... a happier memory from my childhood.

Snippets

I question every detail, making extractions, turning them over in my hands. Then I wonder why... Why can't I, too?

She speaks to me without even a whisper, never saying a word. "You can, dear, you can."

And when I look up to the summer sun through the shade of the weeping willow, I can't help but cry too.

"Everything you ever wish for will come true. Simply ask the stars," she says.

Above the Moon

I'd ride to the top of the mountain at the end of the road by sailboat if it were possible. I'd climb the vines that crawled up my building if they'd hold me. I'd cry more tears if my tear ducts still worked properly.


Things are feeling a bit off. Numb.

I took a walk to clear my head yesterday so that I could work hard on my book when I returned. Something had been blocking my vision inside that tornado wearing goggles. When I arrived at home after knowing peaceful fresh polluted air, I realized that I'd been afraid of the monsters, the cobwebs and the snakes.

So I climbed up the spider string, my hands slipping, and I dangled above the moon. We talked and sang and ate cheese and drank the stars wine. And I felt better after that.

Emotion is everything.

Bees Hate My Writing

I am honestly trying my hardest to finish this novel. Of course, this brilliant idea popped in my head... "Oh, Crystal! Go outside! Go outside to the front porch where you can write to the music of the birds and feel the wind's hand breeze through your hair!"

However, I'm outside, and the music of the birds is distracting, the breeze of the wind is distracting (yet wonderful), and bees have decided I smell deliciously sweet. I've tried to talk to the bees. I thought maybe there is a bit o' bug whisperer inside me, after all, my bunny understands me. So I said, "Hey bees, I'm not a flower. You won't get any pollen from these pale legs!"

Sadly, bees have tiny ears. They don't listen very well.

Bet the elderly neighbors are enjoying watching me hop around the porch constantly swinging and shouting.

Narcolepsy

I'm standing on top of the tallest building in the city. It's the one made of fragile glass panes that appear to be thick enough to protect you from the cold winter outside. You can see the crackling of chilled winter creeping along the glass, making its way to the top, to reach me. It's dead up here. Lonely. Hazy.

Those fat clouds are hanging heavily in the sky again, weighing in all around me; I'm suffocating in their hugs as I look down to the long drop below. The wind has blown my hair into a frenzy of what now looks like a nest. I can't move and pretty soon a bird will be making a home in my head.

I'm heavy, dead weight. I'm wavering in the wind, about to be pulled from my feet into a disturbingly delicate slumber. I'm the surrender before I sleep and I'll take it all with me as I climb down from this lonely existence. But those shadows of unfamiliar faces and hands are riding around the edges of my vision on broomsticks. I want to hide from them, but I can barely keep my head on my neck. My knees are weakening and I can already feel myself falling. I'm falling before I can climb down on my own.

And then there is silence. Pure, peaceful, quiet.

The pale body reaches the ground making one big thud, a splash of red pouring onto the beautifully decorated white pavement. Who was she? What was she doing up there in this winter windstorm anyway? The voices were talking to no one in particular.

It was me; it was my fault. I should have known better. I should have known the challenge was too much.