(no subject)
Woodstock is 1487 days old
Blondie and Dagwood are 973 days old
I have been feeling absolutely terrible lately. I have a constant feeling in my intestines that something is seriously amiss. If I didn’t know otherwise, I would have assumed that I’d eaten something that seriously didn’t like me. The problem is I haven’t been eating anything different from what I normally eat and I haven’t had these problems before. (Not for three weeks straight that is.)
On top of this I seem to have developed a persistent rash on the backs of my shoulders that itches severely. I find myself scratching (or rubbing against something) without intending to do so and all of this scratching (both the intentional and unintentional) is probably destroying my skin back there.
And as though this were not enough, my throat is constantly burning. I don’t believe that it is acid reflux. We had pizza again on Saturday (my father likes to display his amazing talent for lack of originality or creativity) and while I normally devour the scant three slices I get (this is usually not enough food to satisfy my hunger) I took almost three hours to eat the food on my plate. This was only accomplished once I got up from the table and fell into a chair for about twenty minutes to rest. The pizza itself, or perhaps the grease on it and in it, literally felt like swallowing a medium strength acid. I knew better, but I still could see in my mind’s eye the lining of my esophagus deteriorating from the inside out like a time lapsed shot of a pipe rusting through.
I had agreed to watch the twins the night before and had pizza while I was there. The burning sensation was nonexistent while I ate that pizza. In fact, the burning was at a minimum the whole time I was there. The burning is actually at a minimum when I’m just about anywhere except inside my father’s house. This tends to suggest to me that it is the humidity level that I’m responding to. I think it is way too low in here. My father’s response to this is that if a door with glass on it is opened, fog forms on the surface. This apparently means that the humidity level is too high in the house and he proceeds to turn down the humidistat. (It would seem that there is apparently no moisture in the air outside the house whatsoever and that the pane does not fog up because moisture is introduced when the door is opened and then condenses when the temperatures are in flux. No. This can only mean that the humidity inside is far too high.)
I have taken to drinking lots of water to try and combat this but so far I have seen no results.
And these are only the physical ailments I have that can be added to the plethora of mental ones contributing to my constant state of anguish.
*I suck at speed skating
*I want to fall in love (or rather be in love with somebody) but I doubt this will/can happen
*I am convinced that I am a completely useless human being
*Have not been able to muster up the motivation to write (this entry is pushing it)
*Taking up new pastimes (like watching butter melt)
*Et cetera
I find myself questioning life-my life that is, only rarely do I question the lives of others-and the only answer I can come to is that there is none. No answer. The contemplation of suicide is a daily thing. If I do not think on it multiple times in a day… Was going to complete that sentence but now I find myself unable to. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t think about suicide multiple times a day.
I am wearied by my own melodramatic thoughts of life. Will not discuss this any further in this entry.
New baby bird. About a week and a half old at the time of this writing. (Didn’t make a note of the hatch day.) Writing in sentence fragments. Eggs moved out of Peg’s nest and in with Woodstock and Dagwood. Incubated by same. This egg hatched, the other did not. The main question that is present now is who’s the father? It was generally assumed that this egg was laid by Salina (also known as White Bird 1, the daughter of Peg and Walker.) The timing for Peg was wrong. It was naturally assumed that she was impregnated by Walker (her father-[insert comments of disgust]) but the bird has extraordinarily dark skin. Neither Peg, Walker, or Salina have dark skin. Leif does. He also has gray and brown feathers and has two offspring with similar characteristics. Now that the bird is feathering out we can see that these feathers are a dark gray/brown color. Did Leif manage to sneak one in? This is what I suspect.
Thoughts no longer coordinated.
Period.
Blondie and Dagwood are 973 days old
I have been feeling absolutely terrible lately. I have a constant feeling in my intestines that something is seriously amiss. If I didn’t know otherwise, I would have assumed that I’d eaten something that seriously didn’t like me. The problem is I haven’t been eating anything different from what I normally eat and I haven’t had these problems before. (Not for three weeks straight that is.)
On top of this I seem to have developed a persistent rash on the backs of my shoulders that itches severely. I find myself scratching (or rubbing against something) without intending to do so and all of this scratching (both the intentional and unintentional) is probably destroying my skin back there.
And as though this were not enough, my throat is constantly burning. I don’t believe that it is acid reflux. We had pizza again on Saturday (my father likes to display his amazing talent for lack of originality or creativity) and while I normally devour the scant three slices I get (this is usually not enough food to satisfy my hunger) I took almost three hours to eat the food on my plate. This was only accomplished once I got up from the table and fell into a chair for about twenty minutes to rest. The pizza itself, or perhaps the grease on it and in it, literally felt like swallowing a medium strength acid. I knew better, but I still could see in my mind’s eye the lining of my esophagus deteriorating from the inside out like a time lapsed shot of a pipe rusting through.
I had agreed to watch the twins the night before and had pizza while I was there. The burning sensation was nonexistent while I ate that pizza. In fact, the burning was at a minimum the whole time I was there. The burning is actually at a minimum when I’m just about anywhere except inside my father’s house. This tends to suggest to me that it is the humidity level that I’m responding to. I think it is way too low in here. My father’s response to this is that if a door with glass on it is opened, fog forms on the surface. This apparently means that the humidity level is too high in the house and he proceeds to turn down the humidistat. (It would seem that there is apparently no moisture in the air outside the house whatsoever and that the pane does not fog up because moisture is introduced when the door is opened and then condenses when the temperatures are in flux. No. This can only mean that the humidity inside is far too high.)
I have taken to drinking lots of water to try and combat this but so far I have seen no results.
And these are only the physical ailments I have that can be added to the plethora of mental ones contributing to my constant state of anguish.
*I suck at speed skating
*I want to fall in love (or rather be in love with somebody) but I doubt this will/can happen
*I am convinced that I am a completely useless human being
*Have not been able to muster up the motivation to write (this entry is pushing it)
*Taking up new pastimes (like watching butter melt)
*Et cetera
I find myself questioning life-my life that is, only rarely do I question the lives of others-and the only answer I can come to is that there is none. No answer. The contemplation of suicide is a daily thing. If I do not think on it multiple times in a day… Was going to complete that sentence but now I find myself unable to. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t think about suicide multiple times a day.
I am wearied by my own melodramatic thoughts of life. Will not discuss this any further in this entry.
New baby bird. About a week and a half old at the time of this writing. (Didn’t make a note of the hatch day.) Writing in sentence fragments. Eggs moved out of Peg’s nest and in with Woodstock and Dagwood. Incubated by same. This egg hatched, the other did not. The main question that is present now is who’s the father? It was generally assumed that this egg was laid by Salina (also known as White Bird 1, the daughter of Peg and Walker.) The timing for Peg was wrong. It was naturally assumed that she was impregnated by Walker (her father-[insert comments of disgust]) but the bird has extraordinarily dark skin. Neither Peg, Walker, or Salina have dark skin. Leif does. He also has gray and brown feathers and has two offspring with similar characteristics. Now that the bird is feathering out we can see that these feathers are a dark gray/brown color. Did Leif manage to sneak one in? This is what I suspect.
Thoughts no longer coordinated.
Period.