Lithium question for y'all

Okaaaay, score one for Teressa being absent minded. I picked up my refill on my Lithium aaaaand....left it at Pat's.

It's after dark. This is the time when I try not to leave the apartment by myself unless there's a fire or an apocalypse or Jason Momoa and his beautiful wife begging me to come sleep with them.

So I'm not going back to Pat's to pick it up tonight. I'd just have Pat bring it over, but he's had a few beers while we were hanging out, so I don't want him driving.

So I'm just gonna skip tonight's dose and see how that goes. I can go by in the morning and pick it up then. Maybe I'll take that dose then, maybe not. Some sites are saying it's just best to go with the next dose?

I'm looking on Crazy Meds but I'm not seeing anything about missed doses of Lithium. Does anyone have any experiences or rumors or strange stories of Lithium-less people wandering the streets in a psychotic daze?

900 mgs of Lithium, once a day. (Extended release.) 33 year old female, 150 pounds. If that makes a difference.

I mean, I should be fine for one night. I don't want to screw up the continuous level of the drug in my blood - which would happen if I go much longer.

I think? Is Lithium like Lamictal, in which if you miss a few days, you have to go back to square one with titrating?

Damn you, Jerod! (Admin of Crazy Meds). I guess I'll keep combing the boards, too.

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(no subject)

Pip's eye is looking dramatically better this morning. I am extremely relieved. I will, Wonsy, make a check for worms - I think I have some storebought worm medication on hand. Just in case!

I slept and I slept well. Surprisingly well, as I'd left a light on for Pip. She'd called out in the darkness and when I got up, she was sort of pacing in the short hallway. I figure she was disoriented and couldn't see, so I flipped on the bathroom light for her. She was able to navigate the apartment that way.

Despite the light being on, I slept really well. Not enough to WANT to go to school today, but enough as to where the prospect of going to school doesn't dismay me.

Well, doesn't REALLY dismay me. I get tired of driving 40 miles round trip to sit in a classroom for 4 hours going over material that I can just as well get from the textbook. And I definitely get tired of being surrounded by my inane and seemingly functionally illiterate classmates. Plus, the professor has his nails-on-chalkboard moments, too.

But...this is what I signed up for. So to class I will go.

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So I want to write something really witty and really profound but it's just not there tonight. It was a pretty mundane day. I did nap and I feel as if sleep might be a thing that could happen tonight.

I may have to take Pip into the vet. Pat said he would cover the bill if need be. One of her eyes is terribly red and irritated. She keeps that eye closed. This has happened a couple of times before, but what's worked before (carefully flushing the eye with lukewarm water using an eye dropper) just irritated it more.

So if it doesn't clear up, into the vet she goes. It may be a hair. It may be an infection. It may be conjunctivitis. It could be she's losing her sight entirely. A blind cat I can happily have. A dead cat? Not so much.

Seeing as she can't see out of that eye, I've been especially careful when approaching her from that side. Making small noises so she knows I'm there. Petting her head from the other side and then working my way over to that side.

It amazes me how stoic animals are. I know it has got to be very uncomfortable for her - if not outright painful. But unlike a human, she just...goes on about her day. It makes sense that animals don't want to show pain, as that makes them vulnerable to predators in the wild.

But sometimes I wish they could communicate with us in a way we'd understand more. I could help her better. For now, all I can do is offer her my lap and pet her.

At least she's not purring. That's a huge danger sign right there.

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(no subject)

I micro-sleep. Two hours here, three hours there. Broken sleep should be as adequate as continual sleep. But nooooo, the human body is stupid and interprets broken sleep as "no sleep."

Bodies are jerks.

I'll make some of those homemade pancakes here shortly. Do some breathing exercises. Long for some chloroform. Something.

Also for some reason I wake up with the Buffy musical song "I've Got A Theory" stuck in my head. The one where they are all sitting in the Magic Box trying to figure out why life has turned into a Broadway musical?

Brains are jerks. (Though there are definitely worse songs to have running through your head.) So brains are mild annoyances?

It's not so bad. I had the foresight to tidy the house up last night, as I knew I'd be absolutely useless today. I showered last night. And I don't have anywhere to go, so that'll help.

I may write a little or I may write a lot. Far too much or else not at all. Who knows?

Life is just wacky like that.

By the way....I really do love you guys. I hope you guys know that. I love you. Thanks for listening to me.

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Walkmans and Teenage Hearts

My hometown did not have a cool radio station.

This was before the advent of the internet, before Napster, and easily a decade before Youtube. If you weren't buying the cassettes (or, if you had money, cds - of which I never had the money for), you were solely reliant on your hometown's radio station for your music fix.

It was a small town. We had an oldies station, five million country stations, and one station named K101. They played mostly 80's music. If you listened deep into the night, you might get lucky and catch a No Doubt song. If you were really lucky, you might call into the station and get a Dishwalla or Spice Girls song.

But overall, if you didn't want to listen to the greatest hits of the 50's and 60's, and if you didn't like cowboys, you were stuck with ungodly amounts of Asia, Outfielder, Pat Benatar, and every one-hit wonder of the New Wave movement that had ever bounced across the American airwaves.

I loved it but being a teenager with a reputation to protect, I also hated it. I couldn't keep up with the popular kids, who had weekly trips up to Tucson, the big city two hours away with over 10 (TEN!) radio stations. I couldn't afford many cassettes to go into my beat up basic Sony Walkman.

So in secret, in shameful, shameful secret, so grew my love of 80's music.

Fast forward to today. Press the button on the Walkman and just hope you manage to get it stopped in 2014, elsewise you're going to spend five minutes micro-forwarding through the last three months of 2013.

But look, here we are in 2014. The land of Pandora, Spotify, mp3 players that can hold thousands of songs over their 12 song predecessors, and millions - literally millions of songs available for the easy free on Youtube. Here we are in 2014, in a big city with double the number of radio stations that Tucson had back in the 90's.

Here we are....and you know what's cool? The hits of the 1980's. New wave, pop hits, goth hits, all of the songs I coveted in my embarrassed teenage heart. They're cool now.

And accidently, it turns out that I am, too. A shame I had to wait 33 years to get here. But here I am, 7:07 AM on a Sunday morning, thinking that Outfielder really knew what they were talking about when they said they just wanna use my love tonight.

They can have it. They can have it all. I've got nothing to be embarrassed about anymore.

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(no subject)

I want to put on music and relax and write, but it's just not there. The cat is in heat (the one whose advanced age makes surgery unwise, so I just deal with the week long yowling fuckfest) and so I've been running on restless sleep.

Had I another room to shut her in, I would. Curses, ye bane of studio apartment living.

I made pancakes from scratch today. Never done that before. It was astoundingly good and now I want to do it by hand all the time! But as I can't often afford milk and eggs, I'll have to keep a box of the "just add water" stuff around.

I can now see why people make things like that by hand. I didn't think it would taste any different from the store bought mix, but maaan, it did.

There were thoughts and things to write about earlier. There are still thoughts and things to write about, but it would be a complicated venture. First I'd have to shoot the cat with a bazooka, then rebuild the entire apartment building (as a bazooka would take out much more than just the cat), and then go buy a bed and a laptop in order to write those thoughts.

So for now, I'll just go pet the cat - bazooka free - hope she settles down, and sleep.

I can always write more later.

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I just realized - with quite the start - that my ex-girlfriend is nearly 40 years old.

That's not such a strange thing, considering I'm 33 years old myself. She was four or five years older than me. I was 19, maybe 18, when I took her out to her 23rd birthday dinner. And people DO tend to age, assuming they continue living.

I was so in love with her...and I don't think I showed it to her near enough. How could I, as spun out on drugs as I was? I tried. She tried. Doomed from the start, really.

But I was in love. I read emails she sent me. Song lyrics, mostly. They are so sad. Reaching out for something I would have given freely, had I not been so hell-bent on self-destruction.

We were young, stupid, and I was on far too many drugs. All things that dim memory and brighten the unclear glow of that relationship.

The relationship did not damage me, nor did it hold me back from falling in love again years later.

She was my first girlfriend and always so worried that the reason I held back was because I was ashamed of being in love with a woman. That was never the case, but I don't think I ever reassured her of that.

Should the next one be a woman again, I will remember to reassure her of that.

I'll be older, less stupid, and on no drugs this time. Maybe I can make the next relationship better.

...there's a lot of that. With David, I have absolutely no doubts that I tried my hardest. Tried to the point of dysfunction. Tried far harder and longer than I should have.

But with Pat, I also never reassured him enough. He, too, spent many years wondering if I really wanted to be with him. And Michael - I know reassurance was not something I gave you. I don't think I could have. At the time, I could not even give that to David.

The next time I fall in love, I want to reassure that person. I want them to know.

I don't want them to leave not knowing I loved them.

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Sarcasm and all

There have been things on my mind the last few days I haven't been posting, but not much to write about. Usually I write even when I have nothing to say, but once or twice a year, there hits a spot where I just don't write for a few days. I think in 2012 I even went ten days once.

Lately I've been thinking about David and the dysfunction. But there's no hard, sharp anger there right now. There may be yet again at some point. There is bafflement, some anger, a lot of frustration, and an overwhelming relief.

Nearly six months into the breakup and I have become me in a way I never knew existed before. This me is also a me who is carrying limits and boundaries I never would have thought to have needed before David.

That saddens, angers, and impresses me.

I've been thinking about the prospect of dating and of how I'm not particularly worried I won't find anyone. Among other things, I possess: Big boobs, a steadfast interest in nerd pursuits, a vehicle, some level of approachable intelligence, and the most important thing in catching easy dates - a vagina.

I'll be fine.

I've been thinking about school and about how incredibly, massively, overwhelmingly bored I was at the Phi Theta Kappa induction ceremony. We had to go down the line and tell the crowd one prominent trait about ourselves that we believed in. After the tenth "determined" and "driven" that fell from the other inductees lips, I was ready to pull my hair out.

So when it came my turn, I said the first thing that came to mind, which was "sarcasm." It got a laugh, which I appreciated, and I wondered if this tendency will bite me in the ass later in life.

But my sarcasm IS something I believe in. I know enough to not mouth off to bosses or in other ways be disrespectful to authority figures. I also know that does not have to turn me into a droning automotan that says the exact same thing everyone in front of me has said.

In a room full of other people with good grades, you have do something else to stand out. I'm not sure what other people do to stand out in that situation.

But I know what is ME that stands out.

I did like the white rose we got. I was also floored and extremely intrigued by the keynote speaker, whose association with Phi Theta Kappa has opened the door to Ivy League school scholarships for her.

I don't want to go to an Ivy League school. I couldn't hack it there. My dreams are not that big. But I did decide that I would take this opportunity and run with it. I intend to squeeze everything out of Phi Theta Kappa that I can.

Sarcasm and all.

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Cuz we're movin' too slow...

So I was going to post this long thing - and I just may later. BUT....

This video, about three minutes long, will not surprise anyone in the sense that "Why yes, it is difficult to sing while having an orgasm."

But it may be surprising in just how sweet and adorable this is, too.

So, without further ado, here's a really fun, sexy, video of four women who sing (as best they can) through an orgasm.

Have a feelgood moment. Have four. I know I'm going to.

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