Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.”
- Stephen Vincent Benet

When I was about six months old my mother taught me to swim. It was in my grandmother’s pool in Florida. It was an outdoor pool which usually have a higher concentration of chlorine which was not exactly common knowledge. The chlorine ate a hole in my eardrum and I have been technically deaf since then. I can hear muffled noises, and if someone is directly next to me, speaking into that ear I can hear but when my hearing is tested in that ear I register as no hearing.

Being hard of hearing, one learns little tricks. Walk with my good ear to the conversation. Smile, laugh, use verbal cues. You learn how to fake it well. But then there are those people you don’t fake it with. The people you work with. The people you love. These are the people you can’t afford to fake it with.

I’ve worked with my co-worker nearly every day for the last seven months. Since day one, the day when I first met him, he has known I am hearing impaired. Not a day goes by when I don’t have to ask him to repeat himself nearly every time he says something to me.

I am so sick of asking him to repeat himself. My boss may not always remember, but she is always humble when I ask her to repeat herself. She always apologizes when and calls me because she remembers that that is easier for me to hear. It isn’t embarrassing. But when my requests to him to speak up are met with a snarky answer I feel ashamed. Ashamed for not being as easy to deal with as other people… like I need some special help…

It upsets me that with all the effort we put in to learning others habits and acclimating to them he cannot remember something so essential as to the fact that I can’t hear. Like I’m lower class… like it isn’t worth remembering.

Like I am not worth remembering.

“Sometimes life leaves a hundred dollar bill on your dresser, and you don’t realize until later that it’s because it fucked you.”
- Mr. Halpern

I don’t tweet. 140 characters on my day to day life just isn’t entertaining. Neither is 140 characters of your day to day life. Sorry. Hell, paragraphs upon paragraphs here aren’t entertaining, so tweeting? No. I’ll spare you.

I do follow two twitter accounts. Gary Busey and Shit My Dad Says, the latter of which is going to be made into a TV show.

That’s right. My favorite ornery old man is gonna have a TV show. And who is playing my favorite ornery old man?

William Shatner.

I very nearly almost peed.

This almost makes me want to get TV stations and give up my fatwa on TV.

Instead of slashing my wrists, I just write a bunch of really crummy songs.
- Peter Steele

“Hm. Peter Steele died,” he said with no more than a passing notice. And in those three words, my world changed.

It all started with Bloody Kisses. Not the album. The song. I can remember Susan said, “You’ve got to listen to this band.” I remember sitting there randomly selecting any old song and touching down on number 10. My mind was blown. Somehow this man’s voice reached inside of me, grabbed hold of my intestines and ripped them from me taking every internal organ with them. I felt empty and yet some how so very full. For the first time in my life someone understood the despair I was feeling. The loneliness and the heartbreak. It was the start of a beautiful, albeit one sided, relationship.

He made me laugh. He made me cry. He held my hand though the good times and the bad times. He provided the soundtrack to my life. One I was content to see continue.

Instead of slashing my wrists, I just listened to Peter Steele’s crummy songs.

I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute.”
- Rebecca West

I know I’ve talked a lot about how I am submissive and actively pursueing that lifestyle. It’s a part of who I am. But just because I am submissive, I am no less a feminist.

I look to be the member of a partnership, an equal partnership, where I am as shown as much respect, care and love as I show.

Which beings me to the latest in a long line of losers to approach me…

iamtbone69: Hi there
him: How are you doin
me: fine
me: yourself?
him: Im doin well
him: Whats your name
him: you remember me Im Anthony My 3 words are: Creative, Determined, and Dominant
him: I see you have a lot of phobias
him: Dominant guys arent one of them I hope
him:
me: hrh
me: heh*
him: What
him: youre submissive/
him: Yes or no
me: none of your business
him: Thats a yes So, you know what to call me
me: douchebag?
him: No thats your name
me: ooo, wonderful! someone else to make fun of on my blog!
me: thanks for the fodder!
him: No, thats your name,doggie douchbag
him: Look in the mirror if you want to laugh

Iamtbone69, where have you been all my life?! What’s funny is that I don’t even discuss my lifestyle on my profile…

I shall not die of a cold.  I shall die of having lived.  ~Willa Cather

And at 94 Meinhardt Raabe did.

The Wizard of Oz and, more specifically, the Munchkins, played a huge role in my evolution. Perhaps it is because the Munchkins were the characters I identified with. I’m not under 147 centimeters now, but as a child this was a town built for me. It was a happy place, a colorful place and it was just the right size.

I hope someone will smile when I die. I wish to be remembered fondly, and with laughter. I wish to leave behind the most enduring of memories and happy moments.

He’s really most sincerely dead.

How many of you have ever started dating because you were too lazy to commit suicide?
- Judy Tenuta

Now that the sun is coming out more and more I am feeling a bit more social. So I’m paying more attention to my OkCupid account. Which is where this guy contacted me:

him: hey
me: hello
him: how are u
me: fine and yourself?him: ok
me: excellent
him: so how have u been
me: very well
me: and yourself?
him: good
him: my birthday is tomm
me: happy birthday
him: thanks
me: welcome
him: so do u work
me: I do
me: do you?
him: no looking for a job
me: where do u work
me: good luck
him: right
me: at the place I go to earn a paycheck
him: ok

Part or me feels bad for him. Maybe he doesn’t know how to approach anyone (even online). Maybe he is nervous. But seriously, if you are going to approach someone – have something to say, else I will consider making fun of you on my blog.

A wannabe Dom… will tell you to go shopping, make you spend your own money, and punish you for your selections when you return.

A good Dom… will tell you to go shopping, give you money to do so, and possibly punish you when you return depending on your selections.

A true Master… will take you shopping, spend his money and will choose things for you, because you are a reflection of himself.

I don’t believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at. ~Maya Angelou

For the first time in two and one half years I hugged my brother. Buried in his chest because that is all I can reach of him, swaying back and forth… tearing up. My brother is home.

And we are okay.

I was worried about that as much as anything else. Would the negativity that has been ever present in our lives still be there after years, war, hitting rock bottom? No. Wiped away, erased, gone. We are brother and sister. All of the anger and resentment is gone and has been replaced with the bond of having grown, changed with someone.

For the first time my brother and I are brother and sister.

Next time I will be sure to return the favor by banging on our bedroom wall when I arise so that you, too, might witness the a sun coming up.

Sincerely,
Your Very Sleepy Neighbor and Co-Worker

I like these cold, gray winter days.  Days like these let you savor a bad mood.
~Bill Watterson

My body hurts.

My head aches.

I’m dehydrated.

Sleep deprived.

Hungry.

Cold.

Annoyed.

Believe me, fuckers. You do not want to mess with me today.