I'm not looking forward to Thursday. Thanksgiving. It's not a huge event, consisting of mother, twin, two farm workers, a client (my attorney), Little Dark Creature, myself and about a dozen dogs. My employer may also show up, as his family is on a cruise and he has a soft spot for the little shit machine. (Yay free babysitting!) This will be the first Thanksgiving I will spend with family in six years. It's not just Thanksgiving I haven't been invited to, but every holiday that is traditionally family oriented. I was a little taken aback that I was asked to come. I can only assume it is because the family wants to see, and include, LDC.
I'm not put out that I am not usually invited. In previous years, I would have turned down the offer anyway. Many times I'm on call, or simply don't wish to come. And I know they have a damn good reason for nearly begging me to not attend. I have a nasty little habit of sending someone to the hospital or setting the house on fire at every gathering. I don't go into it with that intention, it just happens. Sometimes it's accidental, usually it's on purpose, always it's impulsive. You can see how this would inconvenience those who want a calm holiday, and why I am not asked to join them.
This Thanksgiving I need to go. I have business to discuss with my attorney, and am going to see if I can convince one of my immediate family members to take ownership of LDC. I also said I was bringing pie. Yeah, I can be all domestic and shit when I need to be. I'm already dreading the facade I'll have to put on to get through the day. Many shots of Jameson will help. Or not.
I'm taking bets as to whether I'm setting the house ablaze or sending a family member on a no expense paid vacation to the E.R.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Desire
My skin was hot with anger. My palms burned against the bone saw. Even as Bach was pouring out of the speakers, I couldn't calm. My heart pounded, squeezing more and more blood with each beat- flooding my aorta, engorging my carotids, and making my head throb somewhere within the temporal lobes of my brain. My respiration was eighteen per minute and climbing. I could feel the dizzying undertow of oxygen sucking me deeper and deeper inside of myself. My vision began to blur, partly from surging blood pressure, partly from hyperventilating. At that moment of desperately trying to regain control, I would have given anything to put down the monster inside.
The desire to hurt someone physically always begins this way, and I always believe I can control it, or wait it out, or even force it into submission. Psychopathy is a cunning thing. Even as I drove away from the mayhem I left at work today, I fooled myself into believing I was better at controlling myself than I am. That the good in me can overpower the dark impulses. Ha. Who am I kidding. There is so little good in me that darkness is all there is.
The desire to hurt someone physically always begins this way, and I always believe I can control it, or wait it out, or even force it into submission. Psychopathy is a cunning thing. Even as I drove away from the mayhem I left at work today, I fooled myself into believing I was better at controlling myself than I am. That the good in me can overpower the dark impulses. Ha. Who am I kidding. There is so little good in me that darkness is all there is.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Hamburgers Are Thicker Than Blood
People are arrogant, undeserving to live, taking over the planet, not worth my time, insignificant, untrustworthy, and narcissistic.
Many many years ago, I had a pet cow. This cow (well, steer) was my pride an joy. I raised him on a bottle, broke him to ride, and spent a lot of time with him. When I was expelled from school, father decided it was a good time for hamburger and slaughtered him to teach me a lesson. Once Eclipse was slaughtered I realized that nobody would look out for my self interest, except for me. I wouldn't say the event was traumatic, as cattle are sent to slaughter every day, but it was a moment of clarity that a lot of people never experience. There is no reason to trust or enjoy people, because they are always looking out for themselves with little to no regard as to how it will effect others.
I don't believe them to be worth my time. They're either far too trusting for their own good (making it too easy for me or someone else to hurt them), or they are out for themselves (which leaves me at risk for being hurt). If I had to choose a group to be around, I would begrudgingly surround myself with the arrogant and self-centered because they are more likely to leave me be, and because naivety is highly irritating.
Not all people who experience a potentially traumatic event will actually become psychologically traumatized. Some people can and do take everything in stride and are equipped to handle things that other people find traumatizing. In the case of fathers suicide, I believe that it would be ridiculous to mourn him since I had no emotional attachment to him. Why mourn the loss of something that you fantasized about killing in a slow and painful way? That would be nonsensical. He did bad things. I wanted him dead. He's dead. End of story.
People are generally repulsive to me, so when one dies there is a part of me that silently (sometimes not so silently) rejoices. That is one less person to socially interact with, one less person who wants reassuring physical contact, one less person to have awkward conversations with. Dealing with peoples emotions causes everything from unease to nausea, so I prefer to stay away. I'd rather spend time with my pet cow than with my family, at least when I had a cow.
(This was in response to someone asking me if past trauma shaped my view on people.)
Many many years ago, I had a pet cow. This cow (well, steer) was my pride an joy. I raised him on a bottle, broke him to ride, and spent a lot of time with him. When I was expelled from school, father decided it was a good time for hamburger and slaughtered him to teach me a lesson. Once Eclipse was slaughtered I realized that nobody would look out for my self interest, except for me. I wouldn't say the event was traumatic, as cattle are sent to slaughter every day, but it was a moment of clarity that a lot of people never experience. There is no reason to trust or enjoy people, because they are always looking out for themselves with little to no regard as to how it will effect others.
I don't believe them to be worth my time. They're either far too trusting for their own good (making it too easy for me or someone else to hurt them), or they are out for themselves (which leaves me at risk for being hurt). If I had to choose a group to be around, I would begrudgingly surround myself with the arrogant and self-centered because they are more likely to leave me be, and because naivety is highly irritating.
Not all people who experience a potentially traumatic event will actually become psychologically traumatized. Some people can and do take everything in stride and are equipped to handle things that other people find traumatizing. In the case of fathers suicide, I believe that it would be ridiculous to mourn him since I had no emotional attachment to him. Why mourn the loss of something that you fantasized about killing in a slow and painful way? That would be nonsensical. He did bad things. I wanted him dead. He's dead. End of story.
People are generally repulsive to me, so when one dies there is a part of me that silently (sometimes not so silently) rejoices. That is one less person to socially interact with, one less person who wants reassuring physical contact, one less person to have awkward conversations with. Dealing with peoples emotions causes everything from unease to nausea, so I prefer to stay away. I'd rather spend time with my pet cow than with my family, at least when I had a cow.
(This was in response to someone asking me if past trauma shaped my view on people.)
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Exorcisms Are Preposterous (and so is your religion)
I was glancing through the news and came across a hilarious article (link).
"Citing a shortage of priests who can perform the rite, the nation's Roman Catholic bishops are sponsoring a conference on how to conduct exorcisms."
"More than 50 bishops and 60 priests signed up to attend."
As an atheist, and an anti-monotheist, I find this absolutely fucking ridiculous. Faith healing is one thing, and I can kind of understand it because if you think you're healthy, or you believe your god is helping you, the human body can repair itself. But having some probably pedophile priests expel imaginary demons out of you using questionable methods is rather disgusting to me.
It reminds me of the days when mental illness was treated was ice baths, induced vomiting, bleeding out 'bad blood', and insulin shock.
"Citing a shortage of priests who can perform the rite, the nation's Roman Catholic bishops are sponsoring a conference on how to conduct exorcisms."
"More than 50 bishops and 60 priests signed up to attend."
As an atheist, and an anti-monotheist, I find this absolutely fucking ridiculous. Faith healing is one thing, and I can kind of understand it because if you think you're healthy, or you believe your god is helping you, the human body can repair itself. But having some probably pedophile priests expel imaginary demons out of you using questionable methods is rather disgusting to me.
It reminds me of the days when mental illness was treated was ice baths, induced vomiting, bleeding out 'bad blood', and insulin shock.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Stalemate
I'm back at the same impasse I was at a year ago. Do I go back to the morgue, or to the mortuary.
I wouldn't feel complete without the ability to create my deranged art - taking the newly dead and turning them into something beautiful. When a facial trauma come in and is slated as needing an open casket my heart races with anticipation of the fun I will have. But I am burned out from dealing with the never-ending bullshit and falseness of it all. It's all a show. I turn the dead into something the living want to see so they can sniffle and gasp and make ridiculous faces. I don't understand grief, yet am immersed in it.
The morgue is a more sterile environment. As a tech I don't deal with anyone but the delivery guys and colleagues. I can hold a once living heart in my hand and gut a human being without being judged or found guilty of murder. Part of me finds it relieving to be that close to the ugly side of death. Comforting. I prefer cutting open and gutting bodies to embalming them... but I prefer reconstruction work to aiding in autopsies.
My monster and me... as usual fighting over which path to choose. My neurotic compulsions with cleanliness and order or its compulsion with destruction and blood lust. I fear we are at a stalemate.
I wouldn't feel complete without the ability to create my deranged art - taking the newly dead and turning them into something beautiful. When a facial trauma come in and is slated as needing an open casket my heart races with anticipation of the fun I will have. But I am burned out from dealing with the never-ending bullshit and falseness of it all. It's all a show. I turn the dead into something the living want to see so they can sniffle and gasp and make ridiculous faces. I don't understand grief, yet am immersed in it.
The morgue is a more sterile environment. As a tech I don't deal with anyone but the delivery guys and colleagues. I can hold a once living heart in my hand and gut a human being without being judged or found guilty of murder. Part of me finds it relieving to be that close to the ugly side of death. Comforting. I prefer cutting open and gutting bodies to embalming them... but I prefer reconstruction work to aiding in autopsies.
My monster and me... as usual fighting over which path to choose. My neurotic compulsions with cleanliness and order or its compulsion with destruction and blood lust. I fear we are at a stalemate.
Friday, November 5, 2010
You Can't Suspend Me... I Quit!
We have agreed a suspension without pay is the best route to take. You're an excellent employee most of the time, but lately we've been noting that you're impulsive and unpredictable with the bereaved and a gallon of anger in a pint sized container when dealing with your co-workers. I've had nearly everyone complain about what a hostile work environment this has become and I can't let it continue.
Please take this time to work a few things out and maybe seek a professional who can help. (Psychiatrist name) is supposed to be very good at situations like this. I would like nothing more for you to rejoin our family, but changes are going to have to be made.
Regretfully,
(Employer)
My response was less than great, and kind of emphasized the whole hostility thing:
"I appreciate your fucking witty remarks, but shove it. I don't want to work with incompetent, and (worse) sensitive individuals who find it necessary to meddle in every aspect of my work environment and insist it is a 'family'. Fuck you."
Looks like I'm going back to the morgue.
Please take this time to work a few things out and maybe seek a professional who can help. (Psychiatrist name) is supposed to be very good at situations like this. I would like nothing more for you to rejoin our family, but changes are going to have to be made.
Regretfully,
(Employer)
My response was less than great, and kind of emphasized the whole hostility thing:
"I appreciate your fucking witty remarks, but shove it. I don't want to work with incompetent, and (worse) sensitive individuals who find it necessary to meddle in every aspect of my work environment and insist it is a 'family'. Fuck you."
Looks like I'm going back to the morgue.
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