Perpetual Smile

I remember setting this blog up after discovering WordPress.com and blogging there for a little while. Once I was used to WordPress and found out that I could use it on my own domain, I bought PerpetualSmile.net and began blogging here.

For almost two years, I wrote here about nearly everything going on in my life, from the good to the very bad. I learned how to tell my story. I made friends. I even had a couple of posts that hit the ground running and are probably still viral right now. Here, I learned how to blog (as opposed to rant and whine, like I did on LiveJournal).

I started thinking about moving to a new domain a few months ago. Since I use the username elizawhat for almost everything, I thought that would be appropriate. I needed a change, a fresh start.

This is my last post here. Please update your bookmarks and feed reader to http://elizawhat.com and http://elizawhat.com/feed/, respectively. See you there!

I’m typically what I like to call a “functioning depressive.” When I’m depressed, I can still perform everyday tasks. It just takes every ounce of energy I have. I can’t remember a time when I just completely shut down and couldn’t get out of bed.

Is it so wrong, then, that I want to do just that now? I feel like I’m running out of energy. I don’t want to function anymore, dammit. I just want to hole up and kick the world out for a little while. I want to call out of work. I want to sit in my own little bubble and numb everything out.

Honestly, I feel like I can’t take much today. I don’t feel very strong. I just feel like an open target. I want to hide. I’m tired of going through the motions, pretending that I don’t feel like shattering. For once, I just want to tell the motions to fuck off.

I have a favor to ask you all.

Some of you might know that I run a pen pal support group, Letters of Love, for people with depression, self-injury, etc. Some of you might know that I suffer from depression, that I used to self-harm, that I have on several occasions wanted to take my life. In the almost two years that I’ve been running Letters of Love (LOL), it has grown very large, helping many people.

I’d like to take it a step further.

I’ve long been wondering why there isn’t a directory of organizations who help people with mental illness, as well as a directory of bloggers who struggle with mental illness. I mean, we spend an awful lot of time feeling alone. I’ve been using LOL to try to connect us all, but I really think I need to do more. I’ve been wanting to put this directory together, but wasn’t sure how to tackle the job.

I’ve finally decided to do it, but I need your help. If there is an organization, such as LOL, Holding of Wrist, or To Write Love On Her Arms, that you know of that helps people with depression, or a blogger you know of who openly writes about his or her experiences, please comment with a link to their website. (I will, of course, ask any bloggers for permission before linking to them in this directory.) If you could also write a short description of who they are, what they do, and why you recommend them, that would be great.

Please pass this link along to anyone you think might want to help or who might benefit from the directory when it’s complete.

Thank you.

PS: If you’d like to share a link but don’t want to comment publicly with it, just shoot an email to me at elizawhat@gmail.com.

Would you stop playing the fucking DS? I screamed in my mind.

I stood with one arm on the top of the rocking chair Mike sat in. When he rocked, I reeled.

Stop fucking rocking.

I watched my grandfather put one hand over his chest while his left arm sat on the arm of his chair, tensed with pain and numbness.

Is he really still trying to watch TV?

Followed him with my eyes as he got up from his chair and sat down in the chair next to the dining room table.

Make it stop.

I watched my grandmother put the blood pressure cuff around my grandfather’s arm. Watched him fuss over the position of the wire from the blood pressure machine. Saw the pain in his eyes.

The blood pressure cuff tightened and the little machine measured. Even if I could see the numbers, I wouldn’t know what they meant. Had the doctors told Noni what good and bad blood pressure numbers are?

Mike shut off the DS. For a moment I wondered if his stony exterior was disguising the memories running through his head, memories of his little brother having a stroke.

She said something that meant, “You’re blood pressure is fine,” but the words themselves meant nothing to me. “I don’t think it’s your heart,” she said.

I didn’t relax. I was under water.

This is a temporary post, so that you can find my blog in Technorati with this super cool claim code: D4JSCGUZ6FXS.

I only saw a few movies this year. Honestly, I thought most of 2009′s new movies were garbage and didn’t bother. There were a few I wanted to see but just didn’t get there, so I’ll probably rent those at some point. I really want to go see The Princess and the Frog, and will probably be going sometime this week with my mom and sister.

Unfortunately, Hollywood no longer thrills me. All of the supposedly “scary” movies look like they were filmed to frighten three-year-olds, and all of the supposedly “funny” movies look like the same stupid shit that’s already been done. Maybe I am a movie snob. I didn’t know I was a movie snob, but here we are. I’m a huge horror freak, so I take my horror movies very seriously. (I’m looking at YOU, lame ass 3D My Bloody Valentine. Your trailers made me giggle.)

I did see a few movies this year that absolutely blew my fucking mind… and a few that kind of just, well, didn’t do any blowing. They just sucked. (Hi, X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Yes, I know I watched a rough mid-production version, but still. You bored me to tears!) The Hangover was pretty fucking predictable and only made me actually laugh maybe three times.

BUT.

Taken, Watchmen, and Inglourious Basterds absolutely thrilled me. I sat in the theater, completely and totally emotionally tied to everything that happened in those movies. For the two or so hours they ran, I was a PART of those movies. If you don’t know the feeling I’m describing, I’m sad for you. It’s the feeling that says, “The cast and crew more than did their job right with this one and are completely sweeping me away!”

They were fucking EPIC in a way that Lord of the Rings can’t even begin to be. I would say that they are my absolute three favorite movies of this year, and that they all go under “Favorite Movies of All Time,” right under The Crow.

(I saw maybe ten movies this year, which qualifies me to judge.)

Up and the latest Harry Potter were also good. Disney/Pixar always makes a good team, and the HP movies just keep getting better and better. (Unlike some other teen oriented movies, TWILIGHT. Sorry, but you suck and I won’t ever see New Moon or the other two. My hatred for annoying Twilight fans and all of the horrible ways the cast and crew fucked up the first movie will forever scar my love of the books. And for all of you supposed fans who have only seen the movies, do yourself a favor and read the books. Please.)

Ahem. Um, where was I? Oh yes, shitting on Twilight and praising Pixar. Or was it Harry Potter?

Whatever.

Anyway, if I ever get a little more time besides the time it takes to pick my nose, I’d also like to see: The Taking of Pelham 123, Zombieland, The Princess and the Frog, and District 9.

So. Now I’m done babbling. What were YOUR favorite movies this year? Leave a comment and tell me! And if you’re a Twilight fan, let’s take it to the parking lot! (;

This time last year, I was stressed out. I thought I wasn’t graduating because of my advisor’s bad advising. Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, they did a 360 and got better.

When Michael came over for dinner on Christmas Eve and gave me my promise ring, they got even better. I closed the year with a great dinner at Outback and with a positive note.

This year, I don’t know what’s coming or how the story is going to end. Much like last year, I’m scared. But last year’s worries pale in comparison. I’d go back and not graduate, if that meant making this year better.

I’d like to hope that things will turn out okay, just like they did last year. But this year it isn’t as simple as meeting with a Dean of Academic Affairs and reviewing paperwork. This year, a better car won’t make my problems go away. A promise ring won’t fill my heart with warmth. Instead, my heart is heavy and full of dread.

I know I should be more positive, because — as last year proves — things can work out. They can turn around and be BETTER again, in the blink of an eye.

I guess I’ll have to wait and see what Santa brings me.

You might have guessed by now that I am virtually religionless. For the most part, it doesn’t bother me. During the holidays, I celebrate the time I get to spend with my family and loved ones. I look at the Christmas season (that’s what my family celebrates, so that’s what I call it) as a time for sharing the love with your family and showing appreciation for them. Some people might be bothered by this, but whatever. It’s the way I feel and it doesn’t hurt anyone. (I even hold hands while the rest of the family says grace. It’s not a big deal for me.)

I was baptized Protestant and raised with a looser version of the religion my Mom was raised with. Dad’s family is Catholic and pretty much sticks to a looser, more relaxed version of Catholic tradition: no meat on Christmas Eve, but they don’t walk around swatting people on the head with Bibles, nor do they go to church. (Not to say that Catholics swat people with books. Or maybe some of them do. I know my 8th grade substitute teacher was always close!) My mom’s side of the family is even more relaxed. They’re Protestant, I guess, though now I think my mom’s sister, my Aunt Rikki, is more Catholic because her husband is Catholic and I’m pretty sure they baptized Katarina Catholic. (And I’m pretty sure my other aunt, Aunt Elyne, and her daughter Kate don’t celebrate any religion, either. But anyway.)

You’d think, surrounded by all of this religion, as relaxed as it is, that I would be more religious. I honestly have just never “felt” it. I experimented a little, as a kid. I looked into different religions and tried to find my niche, but nothing ever fit. I just don’t feel the presence that so many people say they feel. And that’s okay. It’s okay for you to feel it and it’s okay for me not to, as long as neither of us tries to force our beliefs on the other.

So during the holiday season, I wrap gifts for the people I love putting that love as my sole focus. I am like a kid waiting for Santa, I’m so excited to give people their gifts. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about the gifts I’ll get, too, but it’s more important for me to give. And boy do I give. Every year I try to budget and every year I end up going over. Whoops. Even though my checkbook is not thrilled, I am thrilled to see the looks on everyone’s faces when they open their gifts this year, the gifts that I handpicked to show my appreciation. To say, I love you.

And don’t mistake me for putting it all into a material perspective; I’d be fine without giving or receiving gifts. I just look at it as a time of year to share love.

That’s what my holiday season is all about.

I am not doing too well.

I’ve spent the last two weeks in a fog, kind of just moving through the days. I’ve been a little better today but I can’t shake the feeling that this is only the eye of the storm.

In high school, the best parts of my days in shop (I went to a technical high school and spent my four years in Culinary Arts) were the mornings and afternoons. First thing in the morning, I would come in and fill a little bowl with chocolate chip cookie dough as it was being made by Chef I. He got so used to me snitching cookie dough that at one point he started having a bowl ready for me. (And then Chef Z and later Chef M tried to shut me down, but that’s another post for another day.)

After a day of cooking, we would eat together. If you worked on Faculty Range, in Bake Shop, or in the Dining Room, you got to eat the good stuff (as opposed to being on Cafeteria side, where you made lunch for the whole student body). My favorite thing to eat for lunch was a few slices of bread with butter and a big bowl of sauce. (And to think I stayed a size 3-5 throughout my high school career!)

I haven’t had homemade bread since.

This afternoon, while wandering around on Lifehacker at work, I found a post on making fresh-baked bread quickly and easily. I scribbled down the recipe — 6 cups of water, 3 tablespoons of salt, 3 tablespoons of yeast, and 13 cups of flour — on a Post-It and stuck it in my purse.

As soon as I got home, I set to it.

I split the recipe in half, since the Lifehacker post is for a one- to two-week supply of bread that you ideally bake a loaf every day. I dissolved 1 1/2 tbsp of yeast and 1 1/2 tbsp of salt in 3 cups of hot water (I remembered from Culinary that the hot water makes the difference).

Then I stirred in 6 1/2 cups of flour.

After the dough started to come together, I stripped off my rings and kneaded the dough with my hands. The scent of it was intoxicating.

When it reached the right consistency, I patted it into a neat little ball, scraped dough off of my fingers, and went to the sink to wash my hands. I didn’t get far before the urge to try some of the dough came over me. I pulled a little glob off of my left hand and popped it into my mouth. I knew instantly that I hadn’t fucked up the recipe; it had the perfect bread dough taste, with just the right amount of salt. I scraped as much dough off of my hands as I could and ate it before washing them, it was that good.

Then I put a towel over the bowl the way Noni always did when I watched her make dough and set it to rise.

If all goes well, I’ll have a nice hot slice of homemade bread with butter tomorrow morning before work with Noni, Popi, and Biz Noni. I might even put some grape jelly on it. My mouth just waters thinking about it, and my heart warms just a little bit.

That gaping hole is still there, but with little things like hot fresh bread and cards from my good friends online and off, it is a little less raw.

I want to call Mike and wake his ass up RIGHT NOW even though he has a migraine and went to bed hours ago just so that I can drag him to Holy Land with me so I can take pictures. In the dark. With meth addicts and crackheads and alcoholics.

It’s a good thing I blogged this first; I don’t think things through very well.