You've been warned

Since the two little baby birds came out of the nest I know who the parents are. They are from the Bob's (same as before). However! There are one or two more babies. It's anyones guess as to who these are from as the Bobs and Malcolm are sitting on them. I'm guessing they are from the other Bobs. Lets see if I am right... They should look interesting if that is the case. They should also be sterile which would be a fucking relief. We need *something* sterile in that cage. I guess I would fuck my brains out as well were I locked with the opposite sex and had little to do... Just a thought.

Since it's Friday night, I work on Saturday, I haven't anyone I wish to spend the night with (BY CHOICE) and I have an ass load of CD's that need to go on the puter... well, here I am blogging while importing all my favorite missing music. This week was long, so listening to good music while relaxing and emptying my mind is the perfect ending. This could be considered therapy for me... Speaking of emptying my mind... I always use this blog to inform you of things that are slightly interesting but rather shallow when it comes right down to it. That's because sharing is the weakest point I have. In all areas. In a general kind of sense even. Here goes nothing...

Most people feel sick when their bodies break down a bit due to illness/virus/whatever, and that is how my emotions and mind are feeling. I feel sick and broken in my mind. Since I don't want to explain this fully to anyone face to face I am going to create a literary purge on this blog so I might be able to release some of the madness. I thought I was drained until I realized that's not it at all. I don't even like saying that. Everyone says that. Drained. Oh, I'm so drained. Whatever. I feel totally full. So much so that I feel like I am over flowing. Overwhelmed? Probably. Like a glass of mental and emotional that is overflowing and going fucking everywhere. Like that. My brain is on overdrive. Stuck in first gear trying to go 90 mph. And all I can wonder is who the fuck is going to check the oil in this overactive machine? Has anyone ever checked it to begin with? Is this even a machine, or is the correct word catastrophy? Now, I know, some might lable this "crazy" but I am not going to go with that just yet. And usually that is just a way to ignore that someone is overly needy for a reason and move on without getting involved because you don't know how to handle or assist to begin with. So fuck off. I have also been reminded that the looming terminal illness (not mine) that remains out of my control to remedy and very hard to even start dealing with in a rational or even logical level is probably some of the issue. That seems plausible. Thanks. :) I just want all of you to know that I know I am tough to be around right now. I know. Seriously. You know how I know? Because I don't even want to be around me lately. At least you can hang up, go home or log off. And I don't blame you for any one of them. I really don't. I would too. Sleep is my best friend at this time. When I can catch it. It's a slippery little fucker at times like these.

Now, let's not forget that I am super fucking high strung to begin with here. I would love to slow it down to about 100. I really would. And this isn't helping in the slightest. I am also pretty neurotic. To the point where I get worried about worrying. Really. So add anything majorly stressful and you have a basket case mess of a human hoping to keep it together enough not to have to sign in to a fucking mental hospital. Besides, who would take care of the boys? I have found shrink after shrink and if you can even try to handle it, they all say I am just fine. Then they try to put me on meds to help me calm down. This is where I get confused. If I have a nail in my foot, do I take a Tylenol? No, I don't. I remove the fucking nail. Therefore their bullshit remedy with putting me into a coma just because they can't help me get to the root of the problem doesn't strike my fancy. Also, if I am so fucking fine, why the meds? Don't even get me started on the entire pharmaceutical conspiracy theory and what it means to us as thinking human beings. When it all goes down, don't tell me I didn't warn you.

I am aware that I start getting confused and distracted and because of that I come across a wee bit insane and extremely antisocial. More antisocial than usual even. When this happens I usually repel people. Sometimes they are people I adore. I am under the impression I do this to get them away from me before my crazy is taken out on them but also because, well, it's embarrassing. See, I don't mind people seeing the normal every day hyped up quirky eccentric me. But when the oh so abnormal paranoid confused hyped up gloom and doom hits (and I can't always keep myself from crying on a minute by minute basis) I would rather quiet the din within by myself and keep those I love out of the entire ship wreck. Hurting people with the push isn't the plan. There usually is no plan except trying to find solitude and hopefully slow my racing head down a bit. Mainly so it doesn't go so fast that it goes out of control and crashes. In so many words, I don't mean to butcher relationships. Maybe this is an apology of sorts?

Is there a solution to all of this? Surely. The super good news is I am rather smart. So I am not overly concerned with figuring this mental math equation out. I also have excellent skills. Lots of them. I would love to list them all but isn't this long enough as is? I am positive that I am very able to completely figure out how I tick to the point where I can rely on my head. It's going to take a little time but doesn't anything like this? Then there's the trip. 50% of my trip is to help me have some alone time so I can not only get to know myself better but also try to get my head together once and for all. The other 50% is to explore and hopefully find people I can relate to and a place I like enough to stay. That, at least, semi resembles a plan if you squint.

Man, I need to do this more often...