Fighting the Dog Days

I'm tired today.  Well, I'm tired every day, actually.  I started some new medication that's supposed to even out my newly diagnosed bipolar, but I don't think I'm bipolar.  Besides, the guy diagnosed me after only 30 minutes.  How could he know that after only 30 minutes?

I went to bed at 11 p.m. last night, woke up at 9 a.m.  I'm still dragging.  Ugh.  I hate this cloudy feeling.  I'm sooooo tired.

The heat here is thick.  It makes me not sleep very well.  I went and saw my grandparents this past weekend.  My grandfather has chest pains.  My grandmother's memory is slipping.  It's so strange watching them grow older, frailer.  Time keeps running on, and as I sat in their living room with them, I was trying so hard to hold on.  You might as well try grasping the air or holding the wind...it just flows right on through your fingers with little regard to anyone.  Time isn't biased, and it doesn't have an agenda.

Time is the only absolute thing in this world.  It's the only thing that doesn't change.   The seconds, the minutes, the hours, they all rush along in a perfectly straight line.  They move, never jolting out of place, flowing linearly outward toward the great beyond.  Only memories remain in our finite minds.  I keep grasping for the invisible.  I'm not ready for this part yet, can we please wait?  Time, please wait for me, just a few minutes.  Let me catch my breath.  Quit taking people from me.  I see your claws in them, and yes, it's only a matter of time...how ironic.  We never know when our day will come.  For some people, the end is more expected, but I don't think that makes death any easier.  And it isn't just a matter of death, it's a matter of losing innocence, losing health, losing friends to miles and spaces in between.  That's what time does; it takes away.  It doesn't give anything back, it just keeps on taking.

It's like an equation.  People all have their sums of days, more like their sums of life.  Certain sums are larger than others.  For some reason, I always feel like mine will be short.  No, I'm not talking about suicide.  I'm talking about my health, physically and mentally.  I feel like my days will be cut short,  but it's not a frightening thing.  All these pluses and minuses--there just seems to be more deductions than I think there should be.  When will I arrive at zero when there's nothing left?

Dreams

Do you ever have the feeling that your life is a dream?  I still try to remember mine.  I look at pictures, stare at images of myself to see if it was all real.  Pictures of Breck and I when we were so young.  Who would have thought?  He's now my husband for almost a year!

Time is flying by me, so quick and fleeting.  I guess that can be something to be grateful for.  Seasons of pain won't last forever.  Seasons of restlessness will come to an end soon.

The more I write, the more I realize there are so many women like me.  Girls who have had the same things happen.  How many of us are there?  There are so many silent sufferers.  We're all afraid to speak up and say what people have done to us.

I'm not afraid anymore.  The more I speak out, the more I see that there's so much that needs to be changed about our society.

It is little wonder that rape is one of the least-reported crimes. Perhaps it is the only crime in which the victim becomes the accused and, in reality, it is she who must prove her good reputation, her mental soundness, and her impeccable propriety.--Freda Adler

I'm going to continue to speak out.  Who cares what people think and say?  There are so many girls that I want to reach out to.  You aren't alone.  Those nightmares you have, the nauseousness and tears that come at the smell of his cologne, it does eventually go away.  You won't always be afraid.  You won't always be hurting.  It does get better.

I promise.

Books in the Books Biz

I haven't written in quite sometime...I should introduce myself to those of you who don't know me.  I'm a semi-psychotic girl with borderline personality disorder.  I'm impulsive at times...my new kick is antique typewriters.  I think I bought five within 48 hours.  My husband nearly crapped his pants and hit the roof.  You're probably wondering, "Why typewriters?"  Well, I'm into antique typewriters because of my new job.

I help people self-publish their projects (anything from cookbooks to genealogies).  The first few weeks have been quite slow, so I would read old LIFE magazines on Google Books.  In a 1955 magazine, I fell hopelessly and helplessly in love with an ad about the Royal Deluxe Quiet typewriter.  Peptobismol pink.  My good gosh, I was pathetically obsessed.

A couple days later, it was Frye moccasins...I couldn't stop.  

Needless to say, I expelled the evil spirit of impulsiveness that comes around every three or four months.  My poor husband.  

I love doing the book thing.  I love designing the covers, formatting the book block.  I even like scanning the massive genealogy documents that have found their way to my desk.  As long as I keep myself busy, I excel.  That's how this being crazy stuff works...you have to find a routine to throw yourself into, work furiously on it and smile.  When you smile a pretty smile, people think you're wonderful.  People think you could be their next best friend.  That's how you survive the day.  Read as much as you can to stuff your brain full of useless knowledge you obsess over while you can't sleep later on.  That's how you survive the night.     

I've traced the British Royal line from Charlemagne to Elizabeth II.  I have read about most of the high profile serial killers and rapists.  I found out that Ted Bundy (infamous serial rapist and murder) died the day I was born.  I find that ironic...since I was raped in college.  Maybe his death was a curse?  Maybe he still found me, only in the body of a spoiled man-child who preyed on, and probably still preys on, innocent freshmen.  God, if I know.

I've read every page of the Bible.  I believe it.  I'm constantly striving to be like Jesus, I just fail about 99% of the time.  He's gracious...He's been good to me, despite my rough past.

Anyways, I'm Kaylea.  I'm slightly crazy...but I can be very charming, funny, maybe a little sarcastic and crude sometimes.  I am foul mouthed most times, short-tempered as well.  I constantly feel guilty, but at the same time I'm not ashamed of who I am.  It's a weird balance.