harold_maude's journal

Saturday evening

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# 45973

I was thinking about a friend of mine today. She is one of the strongest women I know. She's been through alot, and has survived alot. She's my best friend.

Our lives have paralled almost since we ment over 20 years ago. I can't believe it's been that long. Time flys when your working on living.
I was going to write to her about how I'm feeling and it just felt way too selfish. I told her how I feel about her and her husband, they are family.

It was nice actually to not think about how messed up my head is these days. And spend some time instead telling my best friend how much she has brought to my life. I thanked her for being her.

As I was writing I noticed that tears were falling down my face. I noticed how much I miss her. I haven't seen her is a long time. I've seen pictures of her. And she is still a beautiful woman and that's because she is in loved and married to her perfect soul mate.
It's awesome when you get to see it.

I think when you cry over something so beautiful it's your soul crying, because it is so beautiful.

And I would rather think about that and cry over how good that makes me feel, than to feel sorry for myself any day of the week.

I really actually don't know how I feel. I haven't for a few weeks now. And I don't know what to do. I don't know how to solve this puzzle so that my feelings will come back.
This was a good thing to do tonight because I was able to tell my friend how I feel about her, and that is a step forward.
One at a time.

I am determined to climb up this hill. Step by step. And I'll make it out of this place. It's been very strange. I've never been frozen before. That's what this has been like.

I've just had to accept it. I think that's part of getting out of here as well. I wish I could carve my initals on some cave wall to mark the journey.

Well, I've got some things I need to try to get done. I'm aiming for 4 or 5 I'll be happy if I get half of them done.



# 45969

I have been studing languages for a while now. Not how to speak them, but their corolation to numbers. I know there is a direct connection between art and languages because of the symbology of the letters themselves.

I have made a direct connection from letters to numbers, mathamatics is written in a definate language. It does combine words with the symbols of the mathmatical language.
I had to add the language that the computer uses to express something we can all see and understand.
The basic letter system, is zero and 1. A binary system, which when used creates a third system, that is the written to visual language that we use when we use any computer soft wear. ( I hope I'm wording this right.)

So for the last few weeks I have been looking at different symbols and some ancient language texts, including ancient art, artifacts and writing systems.

Then this morning I stumbled across a site on symbology. It looks at why symbols are important.
I hadn't thought of that. Not as a part of this research on language that I have been doing.
Actually it started out as studing communication. And it was Terrance McKenna that I heard speak about the problems with communication.

I've listened to and read his stuff, over and over, trying to wrap my mind around everything he is talking about. There are volumes of thought in the things he has to say.
He left alof of information for the benefit of all mankind.

Anyway, After I read that statement on the smbology site, it hit me that there is a progression with attachement,
(everything learned is added to by more learning. It becomes part of our experience and language bank.)
And that it is tracable, provable and explainable. This is what I've been looking for.

Ok. Here is the progression
man has an experience. man records the experience. history of the experiene remains.

Art is the first language that man ever used to record and document life.
Cave drawings, paintings on interior walls of caves, the immages on the walls of the pyrmaids all show that art is the first language.

These drawings are what we know as symbols, the immages that represent a thought, a tradition, a physical and or spiritual state of existance, animals, each different language group has a base pictorial reference for the animals that were common to the geographic area.

There is a progression from symbology to letters that seems to exist in the languages that experienced evolution. This explains why some languages died out.
This says that eveolution is a key factor in survial.

I know that mathamatics is in that evolution, and I think it either preceeded the appearance of the letter systems becaus it is baised on a line, or 1 and a circle, 0. Both are letters found in many alphabet systems that are in use today.

The two language groups split, letters and numbers. These two main groups become the foundation of communication.

That's the progression of all of this so far.
I've been looking at energy and matter as part of all of this.
I know there is a direct and provable line there too.
I also know that we each have an interal language system that we use to help us navigate life, and the world.

I want to understand it. I want to understand why it's so hard for us humans to say what we really mean.
I want to understand why it is that if we start out the same, that men and women are very often so opposite in how they understand what is said or written, that it makes communication a major challange for many people.

The need to know for myself. I remember when I got to see jupiter through a telescope. It was grey, and I was told that was because of the earths atmosphere.
There it was, big spot and all. It was bandded, and it was beautiful.
Jupiter. It's the first planet I've ever got to see. I see the moon, but it's not considered a planet.
So, this was a big deal for me.

I think about that alot. And that experience is why I have been doing this. I know other people have written books. But that's their experience, not mine.

It's what they got to understand, and I'm sure it shaped their lives and changed them comeplete.

This is my life, and I've been emersed in art all my life. I know it better than anything else that I've learned.
People tell me that they see things in the art. It talks to them. This has aways made me glad because that means that even if they don't buy anything, the things in the immage that they need they take with them. And that's awesome.

I can't remember when it actually happened, but there was a point at which this experience that people were having every time they looked at my work, told me it was a common experience, and that because it was telling them something, ment that it was using a language system to communicate something.

The birth of the theory I've been researching for a long time now, starts with this statement:

I believe that art is a primal language.

I would like to study individual languages that are singluar in nature, as in each person's language that they develop and is used mostly internally, but also sometimes with close friends or family. The private language.
That intersest me because it can and does very often confuse the information being recieved.

It's my hope in understanding this for myself that I will be better equiped to speak more clear to the actually meaning of what I'm trying to say.

All I can see at this moment is the self help section in a book store. It makes me smile. I wonder if they got started the same way. That makes me giggle at the thought. All the research all the learning, actually being nothing more than a self help book.
That's a good immage, it'll keep it where it needs to be, and me on track. :)

It must be tuesday

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# 45959

It's been a while since I was here. A few weeks at least. I'm still trying to get myself in an upright position so to speak.

My world still sits in a heap, and I sit there and look at it, and think about what I need to do and can't seem to do it.
It's like everything just stopped.

I feel like a deer with my eyes caught in the headlights of some on comming car. But I know what I have to do.
I just wish I could do it.

Everything has just fallen apart since the thing with the medical bill. It's taken care of. It's done, but what it did to my life...I wish I could take all of what this has been like and sit it on the lap of the doctors and the hospital for awhile. Let them feel stripped of everything that they valued in themselves. Let them....what's the point in that after all.
It just reminds me of how I tried to be responsible for something too huge, the bills after the first surgery I had when I got here, and how I failed.

I've gone over it a thousand times and more. Each time I go over it with a fine tooth comb to see if maybe I could have tried harder, begged them to let me work off my bill. But I didn't. I just got angry at them for not even being willing to do that.

It's old news that just got shoved on some shelve waiting for me to deal with the emotions that I couldn't deal with back then, I had no time to waste on how I was feeling. I had to survive. I had to eat.
That's what it was at first. A test of survival. A grind everyday to get through. But I did. Everyday. Day in and day out, no break. No rest. Just drive as hard as I could to go forward. I had something to prove to myself back then.
I had to prove to myself that my father was wrong about me...more old news...

I have been dealing with old news for the last few weeks. The memories of the last 7 years. I just want to go forward. But this stuff has been waiting for me to deal with for a long time.
So I can go on without all kinds of crap hanging off me like bits of string.

It's a funny thing when everything comes to a screeching halt and you feel so frozen to the spot, you want to go forward but cannot. It's the weirdest and most frustrating feeling in the world, I swear it is.
And I just want it to break. But there is nothing I can do about this process to make it go any faster.

I'm working on keeping my sense of humor alive and kicking. Laughter is good medicine for the soul and mind, and spirit too.
The body gets benefits in there as well.
So I'm looking for humor in all of this. I'll find it and when I do, I think I'll be able to figure out what to do.

What does a duck say when...fill in the blank....even that is a struggle. But I'm still here. Still here...
Maybe it's time to start writing a book.
I talk enough already to fill volumes. I've done so much talking lately that if you could see the words, there wouldn't be alot of room to move around in.

It's a good thing then that when we speak tangable words don't start popping out of our mouths.
That would make a really intersting drawing or college....
literal immages. Hmmm...

I've been in the mist of my emotionally frozen state of existance more jewerly. Some very strange peices. My beading skills are somewhat rusty. But my fingers haven't forgotten how to hold the needle, how to direct thread so that it doesn't tangle and how not to bend a needle when your weaving through beads with it.
It's something that you have to learn. How to hold a needle so it doesn't bend and become curved.
Beading needles are very long and very thin, my favorite size is a size 15 needle. To give you a better idea of how thin it is, I would say it's roughly two or three human hairs thick.
It's strong but they do bend very easily.

I had to learn that I had to relax my fingers and grip on the needle so that I could take advantage of it's flexablity without bending it.

when you pull the thread through, you have to grasp the needle in two fingers and use the other three to pull lengths of thread through at a time. You have to be sure in your movements because for a woven peice of bead work it's not uncommon for me to work with three yards of thread at a time.

It took me a long time to be able to learn how to weave peices that were strong and beautiful. And even though it's been a few years since I made a peice of beaded jewerly, my fingers remember how to move and what to do.

The pendants I've been making are a mixture of wire and beads.
That's the strange stuff I was talking about.
I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. So I figure ok, so I have no clue, that's never stopped me before.

One again I am reminded of how greatful I am for this place, for my bat cave, as I have come to affectionatly call my journal here, my fine and private place in plain sight.
It's good to have a bat cave. Everyone should. In your bat cave you can let go and breathe a sigh of relief that you don't have to song and dance in front of anyone.

I am very sure this all sounds somewhat scattered. But I really don't care if it does. I'm trying to sort this stuff out. Make some sense of everything. And I'm doing it the only way I know how.

And that has to be good enough. Even for me.

Things that are unreasonable

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# 45953

I've had some time to think about alot of things lately.
I've been busy trying to pick up peices of my mind and put them back in order.

A lot has happened in the last three years, and there really has been alot of space between thoes things.
After a while you just live and try to function as close to what you see normal is.
That becomes what life is about.

The problem with the old medical bill is resolved. I don't have to worry about creditors calling and harassing me and taking further action via the court system so there won't be added bills to the ones that I got hit with. With love from a group of doctors.

I did alot of reading the last couple of weeks along with the other things I'm trying very hard to stay focused on long enough to be able to see progress. This has been very slow going. My impatients level has been over the top lately.
I feel so completely stuck that it reminds me of a dream where you are trying to run but can't.
you wake up and you are exausted all the next day.

This has been my life for almost a month now.

So after reading all this stuff about the medical system, the drug companies, and insurance companies, I laid aside the horror stories of everything people just like me go through,
I came up with this:

go to hospital. get bills for hospital. bills get sent to collection agency. they sue you for bills. you loose. But you survived the surgery...

I thought about this, and thought about it and came to the conclusion that going to the hospital to have emergency surgery end up putting you through hell afterwords.

If you buy insurance for yourself it will cost you between and thousand dollars and Twenty eight hundred dollars a month.
It depends on which company you go through.
To aford insurance in this country you have to be making at least three grand a month.

Now let's see, what jobs are there out there for the average person that is going to pay even close to that, um....thinking...still thinking...
here are the numbers at a job where you work 40 hours, that's full time. You have to make about seven hundred fifty dollars a week.
writing the numbers some how has more impact for me than just the numbers.
I don't know of any jobs that will bring in 750 a week, and that's after taxes, so your looking at between 850 and 900 a week.
There arn't alot of jobs that will give you that.
That's why many people work two full time jobs and if they are with someone, that's what that person needs to do as well, if they expect to get insurance as well.

There are over 70,000,000 americans who work hard and can't afford insurance.
So if they choose to go the hospital for ememrgency surgery to save their lives, they face a life for a long time of misery.
But they survived the surgery...yea!

My education in this whole arena has been very, very disturbing and and very frustrating and at times frightening...
my advise, get your self educated in your own health. Learn how to take care of you.
Find out if the hospitals in your area have a program that helps people who can't afford the insane bills.
If they do, get as much information as you can.
Read, read and read some more. Because if you don't, you will loose alot of your life to all this crap.

Before the surgery ask the physician to charge you only what is fair. The same thing that insurance companies get charged when they cover a surgery. they may say no, but it's worth a try.
See what you can bring to the hospital with you in the way of tissue, find out what kind of pain relievers they use, and if you can get them yourself over the counter, do it.
Keep a bag with this stuff in it and rotate it out so that it doesn't expire in the bag.
You will save thousands of dollars on the hospital bill by doing this.
A box of kleenex in the store costs about 2 dollars, in the hosptal it's over a hundred. See what I mean.
Think of it as a preparedness kit.

I hope this helps.

Blown up

# 45948

It's tuesday. It's hot, same same for a long time now.
Everyday, since this happened with the medical bill showing up after almost 6 years, I have worked to keep my head together.
It's been a fight.

But I keep going because I want my life back. Being sick the previous friday, really did some things to me.
It was the kind of sick that makes you want to make out a will.
It gave me a view of everything that I didn't have before then.

I've made more jewerly, and have done some small paintings, if you can call them that, but the want to do any of it just insn't there right now.
Being one tough bitch with myself, I force myself to keep working on the stuff because I need to make some money so I can pay the monthly bills that don't give a shit how I'm feeling or what I have to say.

I've been looking at want adds but every job just looks like all the rest, they want your life in exchange for less money than it's worth.
That hit me like a ton of bricks somewhere in the last few days.

I don't know how to look at anything clearly right now.
I really want my life back. I want to have energy and passion again for the one thing I know better than anything else.

But even that has been hit by all of this.
Everything has. My world got knocked sideways and the effect it has had on me has surprised me completely.

I remember thinking this one time, while I was going through something else that was ragaing in my face, when the strong fall down, who is stronger to come and help pick them up?
I had no answer then and I still don't.

Deep sigh...so I guess it's me picking my sorry ass up off the pavement and getting out of traffic.

Back to the bat cave.....

# 45926

I wonder if super heros ever got depressed? Or mother Threasa?
I know all the great artists over time have suffered routinely from bouts of depression and mixed that with some kind of drink.
I can't spell so good right now, and no I have not been drinking.

Tonight, or this afternoon I realized that I am fighting depression. All of this, with this old debt and trying to sort through what ever to figure out how I'm suppose to make an income. I've been searching want adds and they all look the same, like a old smelly gym sock.

I realized somewhere along the line that all of this has made me feel like a failure. And I can't deal with me failing.
From that very driven part of me I can hear "There is no excuse for any of this!" and demanding that I stop whining about things and just get going already! That's my father talking.
I can hear him, from years ago, how nothing I ever did was good enough, no matter how hard I worked, or what I created, or who I was even...it was never, I repeat never good enough.

The man scared me most of my childhood and well into my adult hood.
He never beat me, or hit me, but he was this scary man who could yell and blow up if he didn't like something.
And to an empath who is a child, it can be terrifying.

I waited all my life for his approval. I created so many things and would show him and all he would do is find things wrong with them.
I hoped until 3 weeks before his death, that he would tell me that he was happy I was his daughter.
Three weeks before his death I found out what he really believed concerning parents and their children.
I sat there completely stunned, as I listened.
He believed that from the time a child is born they must earn their parents respect and love.
Out of his mouth this came.

From that moment on I hated my father, and after he was burried, I so wanted to just go take a big shit on his grave.
I never did, I really didn't want to have to explain why I was doing that.

It took me a few years, but I finally got to the place where I could just accept that he was what he was.
I put the anger to rest. I found peace from the pain of finding out the truth so late in things.
If I had known this was how my father really felt, I would have left home as soon as I graduated high school.
I don't think I would have ever gone back.

So I have a problem when I feel like I've failed. Back to the orignal point here.
I had this view of myself on the inside for a very long time. It was that I was strong. Resilliant, able to handle anything.
That's what I have been living for the past 7 years.
I've been in want and sometimes not so much in want.
I've made a few friends along the way.

So in that respect I've done ok for myself.
I've held alot of different kinds of jobs, and that is always a good thing when you want to and like to learn new stuff.
And there is this mandate from back at the beginning, to make a living from my art, which I did in the beginning, it wasn't a living exactly, it was more like keeping my nose out of the water so I don't drown income.
There was more than one week that I made about 20 bucks and that was it.
No one would hire me. I refused to lay down and stop.
I was persistant, and driven to get a job or find a gallery that would take my raw work and show it.
One did. My work sat there for three months and nothing sold.
I had both jewerly and paintings. I remember putting a necklace together outside on a sunny day in the park and the temp was somewhere in the low 20's.
That I even was able to do that in such cold weather still suprises me.
I ended up giving the necklace as a gift to someone who really liked it but didn't have any money to buy it. I got that alot.

I kept trying though. Finally I found a normal job and took it. I was tired of eating once and day and running all over the place trying to sell my wares.
For a long long time, I kept doing art, and had two one woman shows, both went over well. I sold peices. Yes, I sold more than one. Actually I sold 22 at the first one, and I'm not sure how many sold at the second one. There was this local artist who has some kind of big reputation around here who showed up at my second show to check the work out.
When I first saw the man, he looked like he was ready to set sail somewhere, he was wearing everything from the captians hat to the pipe and the pants, coat and boots. This guy would have made a perfect ad for some kind of liquor bottle.
He was a bit cold and said very little. I stood there for a few minuets with him, and decited I had had enough of mr. sea captin there.
I can't remember his name, just his clothes.

It makes me smile thinking about how silly he looked. All full of his accomplishments. I was only impressed with his outfit.

Somewhere along the line, in the fast paced road everything just sort of slowed down, art wise. I couldn't find room or space or energy to paint after awhile.
I kept trying and everything just looked like crap to me.

I was spending my life working now. Trying to get ahead, so that I could figure out a way to get a peice of land and just go there. Leave city life for good. Leave the madness of people driving like they are the only person on the road, leaving a working world that wants happy and zoned out and very excited workers.
I wanted to make enough money to just go away. Sell things on line and actually try to find my way back to some sense of who I am once again.
I thought that was happening. It felt like it was, I could see it all being so sucessful that I had to have help running things.
I believe that the first step to something becomming real is to dream about it, let it become so real that it just happens.
The work you do to get there finally has some purpose besides getting you to the next paycheck with at least a couple of bucks in the bank.

I was so happy.
For one week.
I was excited and a bit scared, stage fright a bit, I had everything almost in place...and then the bomb dropped.

Here it is three days later, and I am struggling to get through the day. I have no idea what to do now. I keep going back to the etsy site only to be faced with things that I can't do anything with until this is all resolved.
I have no idea what to write in those spaces anymore.

I found myself wanting to take care of everything send a few letters out and then blow my brains out this afternoon.
But I didn't.
I have this habbit I've created to help myself when things go really haywire, I will brain storm and talk to myself out loud, I become my own cheerleader. And I get through stuff.
I meditate as well.

This thing, has made me feel like I have failed so completely tha there is no point in doing anything.
It has shattered or at least slammed hard enough to really damage my view of how strong I am.
I needed help with this and I had to ask for help. That is part of what my failure is about.
I have this really screwed up idea that I should never need help of any kind. I'm suppose to be there for other people.
I'm suppose to be strong and capable and able to move mountians when every one else fails.
I expect it of myself.

I really wanted to talk to someone tonight about how weird I'm feeling, how all of this feels like someone just died.
How it makes me want to send back the extra of what was sent to help after the bill is paid in full, send a few letters out and the blow my brains out.
I was told I'm probably one of the few people who would do that.
My response was, "I'm backwards"

I do alot of stuff completely backwards to the rest of the world.
Well maybe not the rest of the world, I'm sure there are some other people who do things back wards too.
I just haven't met any of them yet.

I realized that to me, the idea of failing to be able to take care of myself is devistating.
I guess now is a good time to learn huh? What happens when I get too physically old to do anything for myself?
I think at that point I'll just stop eating.

This one is a hard one to get past. I now have to rethink everything. Start from square one. That's what this feels like.
I don't know how to change this hardwired stuff that is running over the loud speaker in my head.

Who knows, an astroid may hit this town tonight and then all of this would be a moot point.

This is my bat cave I've decited. It's the place where I can come and dump my stuff out on the capet and figure out which are the marbles and which are the rocks.

I'm not too bad at marbles by the way. I spent alot of time playing marbles with my son after I taught him how to play.
It's been a while, so maybe I should take some time off from this emotional wrecked state and just go play a really long game of marbles.

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