Me: 29. New Yorker. Dreamer. Realist. Writer. Media Obsessed Geek. Sarcastic.
Loves: Music. Fan Fiction. Glee. Puckleberry. Sci-Fi. Whiskey. Supernatural. Dean Winchester. Harry Potter Series. Beer. Books. BtVS. Hanson. Pop-Punk. Classic Rock. Caramel. Red Velvet Cupcakes. Stargate.
Hates: Fake People. Bugs. Immature Fangirls (yes, there's a difference). Plain Chocolate Candy. Rum.
Quote(s) to Live By:"Dream as if you'll live forever; live as if you'll die today." / "Never take it seriously; if ya never take it seriously, ya never get hurt, ya never get hurt, ya always have fun, and if you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends."

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  • One of these days someone should add a “Hermione/NotRon” and a “Harry/NotGinny” option to their pairings search. It would make my life a whole helluva lot easier when looking for fic.

    I still can’t believe Andrea is dead.

    The fact that I cried over that just now tells me that, maybe, just maybe, I should have slept at some point since I got up at 9am yesterday to watch the AMC Dead, White & Blue marathon. Overtired = extreme emotions. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know it was gonna happen.

    (Have to admit - threw a little party when Lori got offed).

    I fully realize that I am terrible at being a compasionate human.

    I’m going straight to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.00. Just straight there.

    Honestly, after almost 3 full days awake (maybe, maybe, 3 hours of constantly interrupted daytime naps - while other people were available to keep an eye on her over those 3 days) even my internal logic meter is telling me it’s okay to completely lose my shit and scream at my dementia addled grandmother to ‘stay in the fucking bed and go to sleep already’.

    The hospital used this mesh dress thing that has ties to attach to the bedrails…we sort of absconded with it at discharge a few weeks ago (hey if they used it it must be legal right?). The only reason I haven’t snapped and used it is that we have other people living in the house and I’m pretty sure she’d scream bloody murder and wake everyone up.

    I don’t mind her staying awake…she can talk her damned head off all night if she wants. But every single time I’ve tried to close my eyes the last three nights? I start to drift off and then all of a sudden “BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP”. She doesn’t even try to budge from her chair during the day; does in fact bitch and scream and claw and bite if someone tries to move her…but oh no, middle of the night when most people are sleeping? Oh that’s when she decides to forget that she can’t actually physically walk anymore and she’s going to try and get out of bed. And still knows enough to wiggle to the end of the bed to get past the rails first.

    It’s funny; over the last few months I’ve had nurses and doctors tell me and my mother what wonderful people we are…and how they hope their kids care enough about them when they are elderly to take care of them. And all I can think is, “Well, what the fuck else are we supposed to do? Leave a woman who can’t walk and doesn’t know her own name on some days to take care of herself?”

    Would I prefer to put my grandmother in full time nursing care? Yes. I really would prefer that. Only thanks to the way fucking medical insurance works - we can’t afford that. And we can’t get medicaid ‘cause my grandmother owns a house and isn’t dirt poor.

    Oh…and before anyone wants to completely demonize me - the reason I want to put her in full time nursing care is mostly because I believe she needs it. If it was just the dementia I’d suck it up and get over it - but there are other health risks involved that I don’t feel even remotely adequately prepared to deal with. I’d prefer NOT to have the potential guilt of, “did I kill my grandmother accidentally?” hanging over my head thank you very much.

    Welcome to a world where you’re bent over and fucked by the government if you aren’t filthy rich or completely destitute. People used to aspire to be middle class or better…now you’re better off living in a hovel and doing absolutely nothing with your life.

    memory - 10 years back

    Being able to have dinner (and an amazing conversation) with Maya Angelou and three other activities board members at all of 20 years old when we booked her to lecture at our college (SUNY Oneonta) is still one of the most surreal experiences of my life.

    She was a brilliant, sweet…and surprisingly blunt…woman. She told us that all you get out of life is what you put into it and even the most insignificant experience can change your entire life as long as you never decide you’re too old or too smart to still learn something.

    Then she told us to stop whining about final exams (she had overheard us before dinner) ‘cause if they were a week away it was our own fault for not being prepared enough yet. (like I said, surprisingly blunt).

    It’s 7:15am on a Sunday and I’ve only been awake for 20 minutes. An hour earlier then I have to get up.

    Apparently, at some point while I was sleeping, I moved into a frat house. It’s the only explanation for what I’ve seen this morning so far - drunk idiot teenagers who still haven’t slept cooking chicken cutlets while using ‘indoor voices’ so not to wake anyone up (too late), a (hopefully sober cousin) outside on a motorcycle (bet my neighbors loved that) and everyone smells like a distillery.

    I graduated college in 2005. I’m not supposed to have to deal with this shit anymore.

    On top of all of that they woke our grandmother up as her new room is the ‘den’ and is right next to the front door. Fuckers.

    My cousin just had a baby a few days ago. I just saw her facebook status asking if anyone has ever used an app to keep track of diaper changes and feedings and if so which app.

    …WTF?! What happened to good old fashioned parenting? None of our parents made decisions based on a frickin computer’s say so and we all turned out (reasonably) normal.

    And if it’s just for the sake of keeping track of things - rather then having the computer give you advice on a schedule - there are these funny little things called ‘paper and pen’.

    It’s like when I went to purchase baby-monitors so I’d be able to keep an ear on my grandmother when she was alone in her room (dementia + inability to walk = forgetting you can’t walk) and I actually had a hard time finding a nice simple baby monitor. More then half of them were 200+ dollars and had two-way communication, video cameras, and wi-fi to broadcast the video feed to the parent’s smart-phone.

    It’s no wonder I see parents (of my age and a little older) allowing their toddlers to tear apart stores (without being scolded) and throw temper tantrums (while being reasoned with. Who the hell reasons with a screaming 3 year old? - I’m not saying hit them…no, you pick them up and put them in the cart and ignore their screaming or walk out of the store and, again, ignore their screaming. They’ll get bored eventually)

    flashback to junior high…

    I definitely just watched ‘Robin of Locksley’ (1996) ‘cause it happened to be on one of the Starz channels. I probably haven’t seen this movie since I lost my bootlegged off the TV VCR recording of it back in 1999. I felt like I was 13 years old and swooning over Devon Sawa and Joshua Jackson again.
    It’s funnier watching it as an adult and being surprised by the sheer amount of ‘character actors’ that are pretty much all over tv now were in that movie as young teens.

    I think I finally understand why my grandmother has been given an anti-psychotic (risperidone - 1ml daily w/ the option for another 1ml total if needed) in her medication regime. Tonight I needed an extra 5ml.
    I had to wake her up to take her 3am dose of vancomycin which was a bitch and a half because she’s now also taking trazadone (a drug we finally found that allows her to sleep through the night - which allows US to sleep through the night)…but once I got her up and got the medication in her she would not go to sleep again.
    Now, normally, I’d treat her a bit like a toddler and allow her to watch the tv and talk herself back to sleep (between the rails, alarm and baby monitor I knew she wasn’t going to get hurt) which I went back upstairs and got a few hours of sleep (I had to stay up so I wouldn’t miss the 3am meds). Tonight however, she apparently decided that she was going to rip the bandages off of her feet while I went to go put away her medicine in the fridge (she has a finally almost healed pressure ulcer on her right ankle - thanks to a nursing home thinking a heavy wander alarm should be strapped to her ankle and allowed to rub it raw 4 months ago and her left toe has an open ulcer that was nearly healed dried gangrene…until an idiot nurse read the instructions wrong and wet bandaged it).
    So, after I re-bandaged both of her feet…got her cleaned up and changed…she just started repeating over and over, louder and louder, “the sockies will make my feet better. Gotta leave the sockies on.” Then she started yelling at me about how everything is my fault and I’m the worst sister on the planet and it if I don’t fix her feet she’s going to shoot me (literally, I’m apparently on my way to being shot). Considering her mother was apparently extremely violent when faced with the same issues at the same age I’m slightly concerned (not about the possibility of being shot…but hey, there are other weapons. I’ve already been bit twice this week).
    I understand that she’s confused. I understand it’s worse because it’s the middle of the night. I don’t blame her for it at all. But God in heaven I’m so freaking mentally exhausted from trying to keep track of med times, bathroom times, etc. and physically sore from having to lift and move her into wheelchairs/beds/commodes and she’s only been home from the rehab/nursing facility for a week and a half and I’m ready to tell my Mom we should sell the house and live in our car if it means we’ll be able to pay for her to be back in a facility.

    random thought.

    I miss Baltimore. I haven’t been there in something like 4 years - which is a long time considering for about 3 years I was down there for a few days every 4-5 months.
    But more then that - I miss the reasons I’d go down there to see shows and visit with Ms. Mandi, Ms. Jocelyn and Ms. Candace.

    Reblogged from carelesswhispers

    That final drawing pretty much sums up what I pictured when I first saw this thing.

    (Source: corgiblue)