Scars are souvenirs?

Scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there
Did you get to be a star
And don't it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are

If these scars are souvenirs, what are the vomit and the tears? the-vomit-and-the-tears. Sexy, huh? Right now, I think they are the pain the scars will constantly remind me of. I hurt. I cry. I make myself hurt to the point I am sick. Why? because I have already lost myself somewhere out there. The sad thing is I am mainly only lost in my own mind. Most that know me already think of me of a star. Ok, now you are thinking I am being corny, but trust me on the fact that I don't exactly blend in. I am a stand out whether I try or not. I think that is why the verse above always strikes me when I hear it.

Lyrics from 'Name' by the Goo Goo Dolls

I pulled a Sheila

Geoff is keeping me very entertained today with his crabby, hungover mood, and constant calls for assistance.

Evidently, Geoff "pulled a Sheila" last night and is paying the price today. And while being in such a lovely condition, he decided loading up his new laptop with the necessary software and drivers is a good idea. I'm not so convinced being that I am his personal help desk technician, who he doesn't pay crap to put up with his attitude while providing great support. (LoL, feel the love, Geoff-geoff, feel the love)

Geoff and I met a few years back and the first time we went out, it was, of course, a drinking adventure. With our love of Vodka and the lack of things to do in Springfield, IL, we went on a pub crawl, drinking a Vodka-tonic or two at each of our stops. The last of our stops of the day landed us in a nice little corner bar where the bartender would hand-stuff the bleu cheese olives. (For all of you that just went Ewwwww, I'm right there with you.) Geoff happens to love a good vodka on the rocks garnished with a few bleu-cheese stuffed olives; he, also, believes that everyone else should love them too. I can tell you he is wrong in this belief (and now I think he finally agrees with me). Being the good sport I am, I tried one of Geoff's olives knowing I have never cared for the taste of olives or bleu-cheese. I managed to swallow without gagging the putrid thing back up and promptly washed it down with another vodka on the rocks.

After bantering for awhile about baseball and which team is better the Cards or the Cubs and placing a few wagers on the season's final outcomes. Geoff and I decided we drank more than our share of vodka for the day and maybe it was time for a break for a bit before dinner. Off to the hotel room we went, Geoff, unfortunately, beat me into the bathroom. While waiting my turn, I kicked back in the bed only to realize I was too drunk to lay down. My world started spinning and I couldn't get the legendary trick of the foot on the floor before I started hurling all over the bed and floor and eventually blacking out.

Waking up hours later in the bathtub, I realized Geoff was talking to my Mom of all people on the phone. First question out of my mouth is "Why is my mother calling you?" and then, hearing the concerned conversation I start blurting out, "I'm fine, Mom...just acted stupid and drank too much." Then, I had to explain to her, my sister, my ex-husband, and my friend, Jack that I was OK...and, no, they did not know Geoff, but I was completely safe...and, no, I will not tell you where I am...and, no, you cannot come and get me. UGH.

Needless to say, that was the night "pulling a Sheila" was coined. Anytime, Geoff or anyone he knows drinks to much into a puking oblivion, I get called and told about who "pulled a Sheila" this time. I'm glad I made my mark in history, or not.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

When things aren't good I tend to splurge on comfort foods. Since I don't grocery shop, I have to find my binge food elsewhere. Enter Mi Lupita, the BEST mexican food in St. Louis. They have one restaurant in Ballwin and one in Fenton. I frequent them both often (tells you about how often I need my comfort foods & tequila). I love the food so much I've offered to do a website for them (still under construction www.mi-lupita.com). I walk in and the entire staff greets me with hugs. After my very welcoming greeting, they all know I get ice water at lunchtime and a medium margarita with Presidente Brandy on top with dinner. At lunchtime, they also know to order white cheese dip and a L-L pollo (translation: chicken burrito enchilada style)...Now if that isn't service I don't know what is. For dessert, I splurge on either chimi-cheese cake with hot apples and ice cream or cinnamon crispies with ice cream. I know ice cream and margaritas, blah, but just remember not to mix til your done with dessert and then wash your mouth with a shot of tequila before returning to said margarita and life is good again.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Another thing that really puts me at ease is curling up on my couch in some comfy PJs. As I'm sure I've written before, this is my happy place where I tend to lay low at to avoid the world and regroup, not always a good thing, but it is my way of coping with life right now.

The back of my house is all windows, my little my portal to the world. I love just laying on the couch and watching the birds, chipmunks, and squirrels play around on a sunny day. It is, also, a great view to watch a thunderous lightning storm...watching the trees bend to and fro, hearing the thunder shake the windows, and watching the light streak across the sky, just heavenly.

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

Enter problem, I'm doing my best to not drink anymore. I would also like to shake a few pounds that I had tossed earlier this year and somehow gained back all in the last month. Weight scares me, but so does the drinking. I'm not good at saying no to free drinks, which seems to equate to free pounds on my thighs. I'm not good at leaving the house anymore for a walk or a workout, either, even though I feel awesome and full of life afterwards. The alcohol gives me a pick up too, but only during the partaking. The pick me up turns to a big bring me down after I get home and even more so when I wake up the next day. See my Praying to the Porcelain post for more ugly details on this one. I'm looking for that happy medium, because it is really hard to go out with friends when I am the only sober one. I've tried just throwing back a shot or a drink early on to ease my nerves, but one usually ends up in tons...again bad news. I'll figure it out eventually until then, I think I'll go have a lil Mexican for lunch ;)

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

Praising the porcelain

You know you've hit bottom when you are staring down at the bottom of a toilet; one of the most heinous places to have to look. Granted some of what you are looking at is hard water and mineral stains, but you can't help but wonder the worst. Are those hard water floaties, or someone's leftovers (from either end). I can't pass judgment since I'm leaning over this cold beast hurling as hard as I can trying to turn my stomach inside out. Dry heaving has to be like dying, because I know every time that I do, I wish death. And where does all this bile come from? I mean I take one sip of water and up comes a gallon of lovely, yellowy fluids. I can do this 20 times in a row with the same results. (I like to have good tests, can't build conclusions on a single trial).

It is times like this when I really regret many of my choices, especially when there are witnesses. I feel like the grunge on the bottom of the porcelain when someone sees me drink too much and then praise the porcelain. It makes me feel awful when someone else witnesses my world spinning out of my control because I don't know of many people who are in control of their lives and end up in positions like this. Embarrassing.

There is also a feeling of isolation when I am alone rolling on the scummy bathroom floor trying to find comfort, and/or trying to get the last of whatever is poisoning my system out. The pain is like someone trying to slap some sense into me. The loneliness is a reminder of where I will end up if this behavior continues. It is a catch 22; I don't want to be alone, but I don't want witnesses either. Welcome to hell.

Later, facing the witnesses, knowing I've screwed up, I try to laugh off the embarassment. I try to divert attention to another time or event. Please don't remind me, don't scorn me, and don't judge me. I am lost. I don't want to be the person praising the toilet. I don't want to be the person that people had to be concerned about, or grossed out by. I just want to be.

...I'm surrounded by identity crisis everywhere I turn
Am I the only one who noticed?
I can't be the only one who's learned!

I don't want to be
Anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
All I have to do
Is think of me and I have peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms
Wondering what I've got to do
Or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me...

~I don't want to be, Gavin Degraw~