Tag Archives: Anger

Napping and dreaming about bubbled artwork and ANGRY vintage kitchen tables

I am waking from a nap.

Moon

Work. Well, work is work. I’ve filed last Friday in a place that won’t be disturbed ever. I find myself holding out for the new manager to arrive. Hopefully when she arrives things will begin to turn around. Until that day comes, because I do not have other steady employment I will stay put, keep to myself and watch as co-workers quit, become frustrated and more unhappy. I work every day this week. My next day off is Sunday. There is not much I can do at work but work. I’ve resolved myself to do just that and since doing so my mind is quiet. There are things taking place that are way beyond my control. So be it.

November felt akin to mental concentration camp on my part. I went 40-50 days without a day off between Custom Framing, Design Contract work, Opening my online Art shop and writing for this Blog.

I managed to save enough money to ship the remainder of my things from Vancouver to Saint John. And the balance owing on my student loans is lowering month to month as I vigilantly place half of my income on the outstanding balance. Another few (plus) years to go.

Wednesday of last week I spoke to my ex-boyfriend who just happened to give my vintage kitchen table away, that I had painstakingly refinished bringing it back to it’s original luster, to his brother. Fuck you! Sad thing is if you get to angry at this man he withdraws and DOES NOTHING. When he does do something it’s pretty big and has a lasting effect on your pschy. I calmly told him to retrieve my kitchen table from his brother (who in no way shape or form gives two shits about me) repack and ship it to me immediately. He knew I NEVER planned on leaving it there and more than that would never give it to his brother.

Thus far only one oversized box has been shipped to me. That box contains four oversized original paintings and a hoola hoop which just happened to get wet because *dumbass didn’t place a tarp over the box in the rainiest city of Canada while transporting them to the shipping company from my friend’s house. Then he left while the company was on the phone with me. He just left. The company tells me on the phone that the box is wet. They ask me what is inside the box. I answer ARTWORK! They ask for my permission to open the box and offer to repack the 5 by 6 foot by 12 inch box at an extra cost mind you, to inspect the artwork for damage. So $332.00 later my box will arrive this Thursday.

Two of the four paintings were bubbling. I am four thousand miles away. It is all I can do to remain calm over the phone with the shipping company as he details the damage. The shipping company offered to crank the heat over night before repacking and shipping them the following morning.

When my friend Tomoko had gone out to her garage last Tuesday to inspect the boxes early last week she noticed one of them had disappeared and that all it’s contents including my CD’s, expensive software for my computer, handwoven blankets and a very cool IKEA step stool were on the garage floor. The vintage kitchen table was no where to be seen. She was flabbergasted.

I’m a tad pissed. Tomoko is pissed.

How is to possible to still be in love with someone that makes you so furious!

*That is my theory. Tomoko’s garage is dry. The shipping guy told me it was raining all day.

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Do you have herpes?

I do. Herpes Simplex 1 to be exact. The kind that form on one’s lips. The lips on your face, not the genital ones.

I was blessed at an early age to catch the herpes virus. Sure enough every school year during class photographs a monstrous sore appeared just off center to the right on my bottom lip. Over the years it appeared namely in the same spot for 7 to 10 days.

During stressful times I could be found sporting two cold sores; one of which located itself conveniently in the corner of my mouth and the other off-center on the bottom lip. Smiling or laughing became impossible without blood letting from either sore.

Crack. Drip. Blood.

Self portrait

Since moving back to Saint John, I have had a grand total of 20-25 odd cold sores arriving in all shapes, sizes, visiting for one, two and even three weeks! This is annoying. Last week I looked in the mirror after showering and smiled upon seeing the most recent virus attacks had healed leaving no visible scars. Later that evening I felt that all familiar tingle. I grimaced. I’ve had enough already. GO AWAY! I currently count four cold sores today, all dry and itchy. Over the years I’ve used prescription drugs, peroxide, ozanol, corticosteroid creme, blistex and now burt’s bees with no real speed up on the duration of their pesky visitation.

7-10 days.

loonie

There was one time four years ago when I erupted in sores this badly. It was upon arriving in Vancouver. I had a humongous loonie sized sore located left on my bottom lip. I painted the painting accompanying this post during that time. Six months it took for them to heal completely. Since then I’ve had minor outbreaks no different than during my school years until the beginning of this June 2007.

I am practicing super duper self cleaning regiments as my fingers and hands are broken out in eczema to prevent self-reinfection.

So, I write this post
saying good bye to Herpes
in hopes that letting out
my anger
will.banish.them.into.oblivion!

I am suffering from Internet Explorer – itis

Who would have thaught that not having access to my Power Book could cause a good crying fit.

I sit at my mother’s computer and stare, get frustrated with using Internet Explorer and it’s damn freezing and it’s inability to cope with modern day browsing and usability or lack there of. *SCREAM!*

Oh, I have numerous stories to tell, weave and publish. I miss my mac and I miss firefox. In haste during the last day of packing I placed the power chord and adaptor to my Power Book in a box and my Power Book in the carry-on. In a box, that as of yet has not been shipped by that ex-boyfriend of mine. I’ve got the laptop but have no power and no money to purchase a replacement.

Maybe Apple would be kind enough to send me a MacBook? And Panasonic an adaptor/charger chord for the one missing from October 2006 for my camera/recorder. If Apple sent me a Macbook, Panasonic would be off the hook as I could work online again and earn some very much needed money through craft, design and blogging.

I shipped 19 boxes that last day in Vancouver. Ninety percent of my artwork and a little-bit-o-computer equipment still remain in Vancouver and didn’t get shipped as Canada Post was closing and I was dealing with (that is another story). I wish he would just ship it already (and if you have thank you)!!!

Blogging and Explorer are not friends. In fact they hate eachother. Explorer hates me and the feeling is mutual. I can’t save. I can barely comment. I can’t Blog. And PC – you can go fu** yourself.
:)

I may not be online at all over the next couple of days

Edit – I will be online – the world is not my slut. Thanks Jecklin.
The shit has hit the fan and is flying out of control. This weekend was the last straw. I cannot live in this atmosphere. I cannot work with all the noise. I cannot listen to the drug talk. I cannot! I am fast becoming the person I do not want to be. I can’t live this way. I am making some very difficult decisions over the next couple of days and I am feeling scared because the good things in my life have had to take a back seat while I am coping with reality offline and seeing things for what they really are in my life. I can’t stand the TV on. I can’t stand the stomping and doors slamming. I am a prisoner in my own home.

Please say a prayer for me.

These are the good things. The following are clear and honest in my mind.
I will continue Blogging.
I will continue freelancing as a designer.
I will paint and draw.
I will complete all the work I have said I would do.
I plan to continue gardening.
I plan to keep my apartment in Vancouver.
And I plan to make enough money to do it by myself.

I am so tired of this you guys. I am so tired of the drama that is in my life.

It is not often that I will ask for help. Please send good strong thoughts my way. I need courage right now more than ever to speak firmly, honestly and remain calm while doing so. I will not continue to jeopardize my mental health and secondly my financial well being any longer.

Sexual ramblings, feelings and stable confessions

How is it that sexuality, confidence and stability can clash together causing inner most ideals and beliefs to fall down, crash and burn. Ideally two people meet, get together and could get married. They could then proceed to have children. This is the ideal. The reality of that ideal is that it can exist and does many more times than one.

The break-up? What causes one or both to seek what they are missing or not getting from that relationship. I have in the past and even now seek stability. I am a sexual human being therefore I seek sex. I foremost am working towards a stable lifestyle of my own choosing.

Last year I wanted to have a baby. This was the second time the man did not want to have a baby with me. This made for a very sexless marriage and later on a relationship, after the initial two year rush of new love wore off. I began toying with the idea of an open relationship in my early twenties. I was not getting what I wanted sexually. I gave up the idea of having a baby. Today it still hurts. A week before leaving he told me he did not and does not ever want children with anyone. This made me sad and turned myself inwards to answer that question for myself. I wanted to have a baby with him and was willing to consider the possibility of not having any children with him. I loved him that much. I could do that. Then he left. I didn’t get to tell him. I didn’t get to say that one week before, I was with another man fooling around. And that this man went to far. That he forced himself upon me, laying his full 250lb body weight on and over me with my face in the pillow and stomach to the bed he forced his fingers into my vagina and I couldn’t move. A friend. He was a very close friend of mine. Someone I trusted. I trusted him, that when I said “no” he would not break that trust. Fucker.

I didn’t tell anyone for weeks, months? I talked to my doctor in early February about what had transpired in early December, 2006. She told me it was not rape and considered inappropriate sexual touching. She gave me the phone numbers for a crisis line to call at my convenience. It was a heated evening but the fact remains I asked him twice to not put his fingers or anything else between my legs while giving me a massage. I have a tendency to come-on strong. I do reserve the right to say no as much as I deserve the right to say yes.

The only man I slept with over the past four years was my ex-boyfriend. My ex knew I am faithful with my love, however like to have fun with my friends, hugging, kissing, rubbing… honestly, just fun – cuddling. He was ok with this usually. I could never get a clear answer. A common response was “I am so jealous of you being able to be so open and talk about sex and all that comes with sex”. I began retreating inwards. Deeply hurt and confused. The happier and more successful I became the more he was jealous. I used drugs to hide from myself. To numb myself. Before I knew, I was gone. I couldn’t leave him. I loved him. As much as the ex hurt me, I hurt him.

My first sexual experiences were with other girls of my own age. I had blacked out when I was 13 after drinking vodka, waking up in a car not knowing what the hell had happened and why the boys were staring. I vowed no man would ever take my virginity and took it myself later that year. Boys were often mean to me. I was raped at 17. A high school boyfriend mentally and physically abused me for two and half years then stalked me for the first six months after I entered into another relationship. This relationship was healthy. One of the best I have ever had. To this day, I have not been able to track him down to say thank you.

I don’t understand why chaos ebbs its way in when you least expect it to. It hits you in the face again, and, again and again.

Over the Christmas Holidays/break-down-days I watched Frida. I have watched it three times since. If Frida could keep going and keep producing art and keep loving all those around her regardless of her physical and mental pain I can too. She is my hero right now. A female addict artist heroine whom caused a flicker of recognition within, that I am not insane or bad, nor am I stupid.

This is the chaos that bounces people back into reality from make-belief.
It hurts occasionally, walking off the line.

It doesnt matter til later for scathing microscosms to spit up – sketch

Angry Pepsi Cigarettes Machine - EastVanEsica - 2007

Title – Scathing Microcosms
Medium – ink on acid free paper
Artist’s Statement – Angry Pepsi Cigarettes Machine

During the course of composing this post I’ve come to realize that all these thoughts and ideas of mine are not out of the ordinary. Maybe in smaller microcosms of human life they could be. I think about this like-mind thing that gets lots of press-time in the blogosphere. It has truly intrigued me. I am not alone… Repeat 1000 times.

To you Mr. Angry, your anger inspires me. If you can create while angry and be happy, I can too. I mustered up all the courage I had last night and drew a picture under the influence of anger. I smile now, but last night just like when writing this article tonight, I’m starting to see, what it is, that flares or fans the anger within me.

This has been a release post – this had to be right brain driven, because I know my left brain would say “Jessica, no you can’t.”

But I did.

Well it has been a while since publishing Angry Banking Snowball Poof. This is the afore quoted angry sketch drawn that fateful eve in late November 2006.

Good rid ens PEPSI!
On February 7th I secretly began drinking one can of Pepsi a day.
Today, one month later I am about 10 15 pounds lighter.
2L of Pepsi a day isn’t so PEP, si – eh?

The sickness and the voice

On Monday morning I awoke with a very sore throat at 8:30am. I was shivering. I went pee, drank a glass of water and went back to bed. I awoke at 2:30pm drenched in sweat. I thought good, the fever broke.

On Tuesday morning I awoke with the same very sore throat accompanied by swollen glands. Feeling no shivers or aches and pains I proceeded to go about my day. I sat down for the first time in weeks and joined in the conversation at Open Mic night on Successful Blog. They were talking about conferences. This was a great conversation for me. It had been weeks since I last participated and was feeling a little scared to jump back in. I did. I met some new folks.

On Wednesday morning I awoke with the same blasted sore throat accompanied by swollen glands and grumpiness.

Today I awoke and feel like shit. I’ve got that nasal congestion where you can breath fine, yet your sinus cavities are harboring all that nasty yellow mucous that only comes out if you snort inwards deeply into your throat and voilá a massive congested snot lands on a tissue after spitting it out.

Tonight Northern Voice Blogging Conference begins. I wanted to go to the opening dinner badly. I don’t believe I signed up for the dinner this week when the email was sent out to do so, as I am sick I would not be able to attend anyway. I don’t want to spread this around. I will be feeling better tomorrow – repeat ad nosium – i will be better tomorrow. That is all I can say. I am going to rest up tonight and slowly become familiar with what it is that I do in the Blogosphere again. Funny, maybe.

January and February passed so fast. What I don’t get is why I am physically sick this week. After talking to my doctor last Friday about mental health issues and her reassuring me that the way I handled this last round of three year boyfriend moves out in two hours leaving me high and dry, then the commencement of looking for a roommate and said roommate moving in and other unspoken of mean things, that I am doing as well as a normal person would given similar circumstances.

I have never been so happy to be considered normal as I was last Friday at the doctor’s office! And I suppose with being normal comes the normal common cold and/or flu. Damn!