'Twas The Night Before Moving Day...

Tomorrow is moving day!

We won't have reliable internet access until Tuesday morning, though we'll have a bit from our smartphone data plan to get by...it doesn't much matter anyway...

Went to a home building store today to look at back-splash tiles and kitchen counter-tops..and eight gallons of paint later, we're ready to spend the weekend in the new living room and dining room covered in liquid colour while James goes to work.

It's "we can taste it" real now.

Onward, and upward...and on to the real relationship fun...like arguing for nearly two hours about kitchen back-splash tiles...

Oh, btw...this is our new house:

And the rooms we're be painting...

This Has Been An Upbeat Entry

We went shopping yesterday and bought a new sofa for the house (which closes Thursday), had lunch (buffalo wings), went to a movie (Identity Thief), attended James' work event (bowling and pizza), and went to play pool (we sucked at it) with a handful of the people after. Stumbling in at roughly 2am we were happy, and a bit "tipsy". It was a long day and we survived it with very little anxiety. We haven't actually been out with people since...the Detroit Tweetup last May.

It was a really fun night. Even the part where we walked out onto a bowling lane to push a ball a guy (James' best work friend, who is a complete riot to hang out with) purposely got stuck in the gutter, and bit it. As in feet flying in the air, flat on our back. It was a perfect landing. We seriously didn't know they grease the lanes. We probably should have realized it, what with how they shine more than the rest of the floor. Sometimes we're not so smart. In any case, we met some great people, funny, interesting to talk to.

Can hardly wait until we fuck up those budding friendships...*sigh*

So this afternoon is the walk-through for the house. We'll measure stuff, and take pictures, and try to contain the overwhelming excitement building up inside. We'll be moving the first load of stuff Thursday afternoon and spending the weekend painting before the sofa arrives, and before we move all of our stuff from storage.

A wonderful and patient boyfriend, possible new friends, a new house all of our own - all we need is a job to sustain us until University classes start in the fall - it'll be like we're living a whole new life.

[This has been a horrible upbeat and positive blog entry...scary, right?]

The Last Saturday Gin Test

It's the last Saturday in The Mother's house. James works until close, and so, to celebrate we will be enjoying some cocktails for the first time in many weeks, on a Saturday.

Okay, by cocktails we mean Gin.

Instead of a movie or music review, or a food entry, we thought a sort of alcohol review was in order for the blog. Something fun.

We're testing out a new less-expensive Gin called New Amsterdam tonight. It's an American Gin, as opposed to the British Tanqueray that we usually drink. It boasts itself as a refreshing modern balance with hints of Juniper and notes of Angelica. They use the word "sophisticated". We'll see about that.

The New Amsterdam is over $10 cheaper for the same volume of bottle we usually buy of Tanqueray (1.75L); so due both to an tightening of the purse strings, and an experimental streak we're feeling today, we decided tonight we'll give it a whirl, see if our palate can handle it, and if we wake up with a headache from a "lesser quality" spirits. (Gin of high quality comes from Europe, in our opinion; they even have four different legal classification for Gin, whereas in America there are far less classifications, and we imagine lesser general standards.)

In any case, Gin on the rocks, stirred with a knife, as usual. (we've grown to dropping out the lime wedge these days)

Come back after tonight and we'll post our opinion here.

Have a fun and happy Saturday. Cheers!

-----------------------------------------

The New Amsterdam Gin turned out to be a good purchase. It did have a little heavier taste than we're accustomed, but nothing we can't get used to. The finish was reminiscent of a good quality cough syrup, or perhaps even a bit of a Galliano (a very specific sweet Italian herbal liqueur), which might sound unappealing, but unable to detect the specific flavour that was so familiar it was the best we could come up with.

It's no Tanqueray or Bombay, but for under $20 (on sale) for a 1.75L bottle, it makes our wallet smile.

Breaking Everything

We were going to do a blog post, but we just wanted to break everything while screaming.

*BREAKS EVERYTHING ON THE INTERNET WHILE SCREAMING*

This has been a blog post...

Under Pressure

The upcoming move is causing...stress. Or maybe it's just the expectation.

During almost the entirety of our relationship with James if feels like we've been living in this house, with The Mother, and The Stepdad. Except for the first month we spent with James (July-August '11), and the second month when he returned from England before we had to leave Canada (September-October '11), and the months in England (January - May '12), we've been here, in this house.
He feels we're not the same as we used to be; we're not the same as when he first met us, according to him.

The feeling is mutual, of course.

He's less happy, he's moody, he's angrier than we remember him being, he's unhappy.

With his job he has become a little more himself again, of course - those bits of the "old him" we see, warm our heart. But still, he is not the same easy-going type of guy we had believed him to be. The only thing that hasn't changed is his love for us.

Isn't that how relationships are though? People change.
With our particular mental health issues, we tend to shift heavily from "time-to-time" (sometimes hourly), but not really change; we really don't feel like we're any different than we have ever been since we "came out of the closet" with our DID. Honestly. Most of the time we feel pretty content, normal. Actually, more normal than two years ago, most of the time.
Sure our living situation is not ideal, and the stress and issues have made some of us...less...here. But we really don't feel different. We don't feel we've changed.

We've been heavy drinkers since he met us.
We've been up front, "mouthy", confrontational, when need be since he met us.
We've been sweet, kind, loving, funny, innocent, caring, when we are those of us who are those of us, since he met us.
And everything in between that makes us us.

He has expressed his hopes that once we move things will go back to "normal". We're terrified  We don't even know what that is. We don't think things are that abnormal, all things considered.

We have a variety of opinions about it, obviously. Everything ranging from "He's a sodding moody bastard, and he's the one who has changed." to "How can we change back not knowing how we've changed in the first place.", to "Let's just integrate and let the chips fall where they may" (That's the most difficult one to swallow).

Under pressure. No big thing. Right?

You're Right...

...we've really got nothing to blog about tonight.

We did get a call for a pre-qualification meeting for a job (it's security work, "pre-qualification" is normal)...but it's at the same time we have a walk-through scheduled for the new house (on Monday); so we told the guy we might have to miss it, and inquired about future meetings.

But really we're holding out for a certain job we applied for...that will fit nicely into our University schedule this coming fall.

We've waited for things before that bit us in the ass...so, we don't know what to do. Guess we'll wait and chew our nails. It would really be nice to work again though.

In the meantime, it's six days until the walk-through for the new house, and about 9 days until closing. It's coming fast. We're excited to reduce some of the anxiety that comes with 5 o'clock and beyond.

A Brief Personal History of Drinking

[*Dear Dad - while this entry is not at all as...shocking...as others here, you still may not want to read it and find out what we were up to in your care...and after]

This is brief, and has a point...for us.

Our first experience with alcohol was in the 8th grade, when we were about 12.

Two female friends, and us, spent the weekend together, both nights at a different girls house (but not ours).

The first night, on a sleeper sofa in her parents living room, with the house to ourselves, "J" said there were wine coolers in the fridge and said we should drink some of them.

At that age, with a strict Christian up-bring, and the seeds of a desire to rebel, parents just having split, Dad raising two sons and a daughter all on his own, and a few of us having the responsibility of taking care of two young brothers part-time...we jumped at the chance. Growing up there was never alcohol, that we knew about, in the house.

Sneaking to the fridge "J" took a few bottles out and we shared each wine cooler together; and then panicked about where we would hide the empty bottles, and how we explain their disappearances from the fridge. Whipping them out into the wooded area near her house we decided she would blame her older sister (who ended up getting in trouble).

The next night we went to "M's" house, her parents were out, and so we made drinks of Kool-aid mixed with whatever hard liquor was in the house (it was probably rum or vodka). A few drinks later and we were sliding down the stairs of her bi-level house, on our bellies, over and over, giggling.

After that it was a few years before we ever drank again, the only exception being a couple of times when The Mother gave us alcohol when we would go spend time with her and her girlfriend (Unpleasant Woman) in the "big city"; and a few [significant] times scattered throughout high school. We were never popular, or "normal party girls", so never went to high school parties. We had limited access to alcohol. We never got out much, and anyway, pot was much easier to acquire and smoke during school hours with cigarettes near the school.

It wouldn't be until we met our ex-husband (age 20) that we started drinking, heavily, and it got out of control fast, it only took about 8 months and our mental illness coupled with general hopelessness over our relationship,  booze and pills landed us in "a ward" of sorts. We didn't stop drinking right away.  The Husband moved us across country, he went into AA, and we stopped drinking with him; it all changed in a big way after that. We left him and moved away to live with The Mother, now single, briefly, before moving on to a new life in The Mountain State. And there we lived a relatively sober life (from alcohol) once again.

Always having a taste for pot, or nothing at all. It was probably six years before we really drank again. Through years of University we were "liquid sober". The man we met (Talented Boyfriend) and moved to Canada to be with in '04 wasn't a drinker. We never saw him have more than a single beer, if that, during the entire relationship, despite his musician lifestyle. We would go to a few parties with him, hardly ever drank and had even stopped smoked pot at that point.

Then shorty before the relationship ended we fell in with a "drinking crowd" and drinking heavily on weekends, and vacations with them. Then they were no longer part of our life, and in 2010, and aside from a few dry spells...we've been a 'steady drinker". We've only been "real drinkers" for a few years.

Most people start drinking at a young age, and then continue until adulthood. They come from "that type of family", they had "that kind of life when they were teenagers" and then by the time they are our age, they're "alcoholics". That's the stereotype. Our life hasn't been as full of drugs and alcohol as most people would guess. We've had more days on prescription drugs, than on "illicit" ones.

What's the point of this anyway?

We're drinking too much.

We never had this problem before.

Way too much.

An amount that makes some people we know who are heavy drinkers... surprised.

James doesn't like when we drink, but it's more of a case of "too much". Just to be clearm we don't drink during the day. We're Happy Hour and Beyond drinkers.

This is not a plea for an intervention.

This is just a plea to us, that we come back to this entry before long, and make a plan. We've stopped before, we'd like to think if it came down to it we'd be able to stop again, if we wanted to.

Gin just tastes so good...

The Weekend Upon Us

We spend a lot of the week on the internet. Most people recognize this. Like, a lot. It's always at our fingertips, no matter where we are.

So on the weekend we compromise, we spend most of the two days with James; we shy from Twitter, we don't blog (unless it's a "therapeutic emergency"). We usually don't even power up our laptop. Of course we miss being online. We still play rounds of Words with Friends when we can, toss out an occasional social media message.

It's the least we can do, give him our weekends (when he's not working; sometimes he works weekends) seeing as how he gives us the freedom and respect we require and desire during the week. We also don't drink on the weekend, because he doesn't really like when we drink. (Shocking, right...?); and also, two days "clean" is probably pretty healthy for us, no?

Now the weekend is upon us. We'll be doing post-Valentine's Day stuff, which is to say we'll do the same things we usually do on the weekend, except James has requested that we go to a restaurant where people aren't wearing baseball caps. They don't do that in England, apparently.

We will also start packing this weekend - this is our second to last weekend in this house before the move to our own *fingers crossed* the house closing is coming fast. Those among us who hide a lot in this environment, too weak, sensitive, or overly hateful, to handle this house, are excited to break free...

Change approaches, and the weekend is upon us.

Have a beautiful one.

Happy Valentine's Day...From a Valetine's Day Semi-cynic

Corporations put a lot of pressure on people for holiday's. And Valentine's Day is no different.

Sure Holidays can be fun, (Probably? We're not too into Holiday celebrations...we hear there are people who really get into them) but when it comes to Valentine's Day the pressure is mostly on the men; those poor sods who don't pick up on the hints, and the winks, while their pocketbook squirms and there head pounds with confusion. It's damn expensive, emotionally mentally financially, and less than two months after Christmas no less.

Everybody celebrate things differently, but why make him spend hundreds of dollars on flowers, candy, taking you out, jewellery, etc. Are you really that shallow? Those things don't mean love anyway, if you're smart you'd realize that.

We asked James not to get us anything, like with all holidays. We're not big on gifts. We generally LOVE to give them, but the receiving of them always make us feel awkward and uncomfortable.

We know some people try to say "If she says she doesn't want anything, she's lying"; but sometimes she's not, and anybody who knows their mate can tell when that is.

We bought James a bag of heart shaped pink and white marshmallows. Less than $3. He loves marshmallows like, loves LOVES them. He'd sit and eat a whole bag on his own (and then complain about his belly ache).

Last year, when we were living in England with him briefly, we made him a sandwich platter while he was at work. A variety of sandwiches with different meats, cheese, spread and vegetables - they were amazing (well, he didn't think the ox tongue was super, but he ate it anyway). Pretty sure none of the meats we bought were horse...

This year he works until near 8pm, so we made him burgers for dinner last night instead of something today. We had hoped to be in the new house by now (the original closing date was for the 11th of this month) so we could have a little more "romantic" of an evening, but it took longer for the price to be agreed on and the paperwork to be signed, so alas...two more weeks to go.

Anyway.

The Valentine's Day Burger of Love...

Hand formed beef patty (with Worcestershire and liquid smoke in the patty mix), Provolone cheese, bacon,  sautéed onions, fried mushrooms, tomato and Artisan lettuce on a sesame seed bun.

It's the little things, like a touch, or taking out the garbage, washing the dishes, feeding the cats...or a home-made burger - not giant amounts of money spent once a year, that convey love.

Happy Valentine's Day, readers. May your Valentine's Day wishes come true, no matter what they are.

And remember, if you find yourself without a loved one today, there are worse things than being alone, it's not just something people say to make you feel better on this day. And love on Valentine's Day doesn't always have to mean romantic love. Friends, Family, Pets...they all probably appreciate your love.

Remember, it's just a massively exploited holiday for corporate gain. Real love can be free and expressed every day. (*gags*)

Love,
Ivy, C & C and et al

Maybe...We Babble

We've been feeling pretty woozy the last two days. Mentally foggy. We've been powering through.

Some sort of achy pressure in our head. Maybe we've been overdoing the cardio workouts...maybe we need more carbs. Maybe we're eating too many.

Maybe Spring needs to get here, and the snow needs to leave...

We're skipping the gym today, and all we want to do is eat hot dogs and watch the news. That's weird.

Massage Therapy appointment this afternoon, maybe it will help.

Oh, and for your entertainment...

The future...

(Not every blog post has to be a winner...)

Two Sentences

Two and a half weeks until moving day.
It. Cannot. Come. Fast. Enough.

Okay, that was kind of more than two sentences.

That's it for tonight.
Want more?
Recommended reading: http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/p/recommended-archives.html

Untitled...Again.

After a year and 4 months (minus the roughly 4 months last winter when we lived in the UK with James)...we can safety say, that no matter how thankful we are for The Mother and The Stepdad for letting us live in their house until we could get jobs and buy a house (and we are)...(we're moving out in 19 days) it's most definitely damaged many of us.

There's no way to explain...age doesn't change some people, things from the past, behaviours that trigger...for those who are familiar with any of this, you know what we mean. Cupboard doors have been replaced, but the same irrational overreaction to everything not being exactly how she wants it remains. Selfish and borderline, lies between her teeth.

Will we ever not crumble inside, fearful, by the sound of her raised voice...and her bizarre behaviour?

Some of us have traits...that we recognize as hers. We wither in the face of it.

Dying inside. Fragmented.

(if you're back to reading our blog again, Mother, sorry...but...aw, fuck it, just, we have to write...we know you don't like it here in these words, exposing you)

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Stories from the past: http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/stories-of-us.html...and how to hate your mother, hate people, hate life, and move on to doing things other people think are fucked up...(really, though, it's scattered like poison breadcrumbs through this entire blog).

Random Thoughts With Frankie

If we could go back and do things differently in our life, we would do things the exact same way we did them.

It would be nice if other people in our life had done some things differently though.

But then, who knows, if they had done things differently, if we would have ever done the things we've done.

And the world keeps turning...

Semicolons

You're right, we didn't do a blog post tonight.

We're collectively becoming obsessed with semicolons though. Pretty sure we're not using them right; but also sure most people don't even know the difference. Not even sure we do.

And, suddenly I have some feelings; it's new, and nothing good will come of that.

I really hate us.

xx,
~ Melody

Bloody Devil Mistress: A Poem

It's been awhile, a poem in full from us. Bits and pieces, 140 characters, or less, at a time we managed to cobble together something new this week.

The muse has been yanking our hair at an increasing pace these days, so there is hope for more. We'll see.

We've been writing poetry for...so many years; since we were at least 14. So...oh, fuck, almost 20 years. All inspired by life events, feeling, emotions, desires, thoughts. As poetry should be. Most of the themes have not changed in all that time. We'd like to think the writing has become better though.

So, our newest...

-------

Bloody Devil Mistress

There will never be enough years,
when every day we are his.
Separating this skin,
pulled from the bone,
worn down,
sin by intoxicating sin.

Fires lick at our feet;
we rush, in haste,
mistress to his desire.
Head to pillow falls,
sleeping to the sounds,
of a lusting demon choir.

Our muse may be the Devil;
sins bringing a blush to our cheeks.
There's no use in escaping him,
we'd be chewing restraints for weeks.

Heart brimmed with pain,
and a head full of chains;
yet, still nothing remains.

A vile gnarled ugly thing,
whence twisted rope we'll swing;
while the Devil dances,
splashing in our blood,
and Hell's angels chant and sing.

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For more of our poetry: http://ourlifepoetic.blogspot.com/

Back To A Life Unplanned

Saturday we got our official acceptance letter from the University we applied for. They have all our transcripts from all our other Colleges and Universities and are re-admitting us to their's.
So, it's officially official.

In typical form we already have our classes chosen for our first new Semester. The minute we got the letter with the information we were logging into the University website, and copying over the list of classes we knew we had to to take, and wanted to take, that we had in a spreadsheet, to our account planner. Then picking the first ones to take in the Fall. Classes start the end of August for our first semester. Sometimes we're a giant geek.

When all our credits from various Universities, and Culinary School, got transferred we actually came out on top of the 125 credit requirement for a Bachelor Degree, however...we still have GERs (General Education Requirements - basic modules of study that the University requires in order to grant one a degree) to complete; 12 Science, Math and Tech (with at least 4 of Lab time) credits to fulfill [ICK], 3 credits of English, and 3 credits of World Cultures. Plus 36 credits of Upper Level (300-400) courses. Of course we'll have to meet with our advisor to make double sure...but it does seem right.

Dang. We were so close to having only a year left. We're going back to finish our Degree in Communication, and initially thought we would had three years left anyway, because of the uncertainty of how the credits from the three and a half years at other institutions would transfer, so...*shrugs*. If we pursue the minor in Visual Arts that we want (which we only need 12 additional specific credits for)...well, it's going to take three years.

What else is there to do though, really. The job market is slim without a 4 year degree under your belt, no matter how much work, life and educational experience one has; and because of our back problems our Culinary education is only so handy, not to mention the restaurants in this area pay minimum wage, and we can't justify the pain involved for minimum wage.

Rather than make too much of a long-term plan about what to do after three years and a shiny new degree, we've resolved with James to make a plan, to make a plan...in two and a half. Experience dictates that planning doesn't pan out well, and leads to disappointment and stress. Though there will VERT highly likely be a move involved, since none of us are thrilled with our current geographical location.

In the meantime, back to a life unplanned.
It feels comfortable here.

Triggered: A Short Story of Anxiety

We bought a new-used Toyota 4Runner a couple of weeks ago. It was the make and model of the vehicle we were in during our car accident in '04 (just a few years newer, it's a '96). Despite the vehicle not having air-bags at the time of the accident, we survived the 75 mph semi-truck collision that night. Crumbled and broken, both the car, us and our driver, it was almost a miracle.

So naturally, having to travel almost 40 miles to and from our new house at the end of the month; particularly if we find a job, and when we start University in the fall; and for the next few years, on the same interstate where the accident took place, we thought the safest thing we could do, mentally, is have a vehicle we trust.

That was all good, until today, driving to the gym, when we gently applied our foot to the brake to turn the corner into the parking lot, at a low speed, and the ABS (Anti-lock braking system) kicked in, and the car wouldn't stop. Or maybe it didn't kick in. We're not even sure how ABS works, exactly. According to James there is an error in the programming of the third generation Toyota ABS. So, that's nice.

If you've ever experienced a braking system on ice, when it's not working properly (or maybe it is, but braking shouldn't feel like that) it sort of jerks, feels like it's shaking across the pavement. It's not stopping.

And it triggers us into a panic, even though we weren't going very fast. We had forgotten that particular feeling of the car accident. Suddenly we're staring at a giant wall of metal, and closing our eyes, holding back a scream. So. Fun.

It's almost like passing semi-trucks on the interstate, or any time we're not driving. Being a passenger makes us nervous, and so does having a passenger if we're driving.. It's not that we don't trust our driver. We don't trust anybody around us in a vehicle. And the bigger the vehicle, the most stressed and anxious we feel. If we're driving passing a truck, our knuckles are white, we're intensely focused, and our head is pounding to the beat of our heart. It's actually a very unsafe way to react. We know that. yet, we have a hard time controlling it.

In any case. Fun times.

In house hunting news: Tonight we sign our half of the paperwork on the Purchase Agreement. It's the home-stretch.