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Aging Antidote


100MG Every 12 Hours.

This is the Antibiotic I’m currently in as well when I was battling my Staphylococcus Infection for 5 Months.*(One, of the three causes of my Disability, Dysautonomia).

The Antibiotic is used to Treat the Following:

  • Lyme Disease (Common)
  • Cholera (Extremely Rare)
  • Bubonic Plague (Extremely Rare)
  • Staph Infection (Very Common)
  • Anthrax (Extremely Rare)
  • And Suggested For Malaria Patients With A Combination Of A Drug, Quinine. (Common)

I took Doxycycline in February 2015.

Cured my Staphylococcus Infection. (30 Days).

*But, my Staph Infection was so severe and left untreated, I am forever prone.

Now, so return to this ruthless Drug with its extreme side-effects.

I’ve taken 2 Doses today, and I feel like Death.

Over a 24 Hour Course, I’ve taken my Disability Medication, Death Antibiotics, And Almost 6 MG Of My Other Medication.

The Last 4.5 MG was taken over 3 hours ago, and nothing.

Not even a whisper of sedation/relaxation, slumber.

When is it enough?

When do I get a break from being medically tortured?

No, this is not pity, this is my 37 year old body that has 15 (physical)Chronic Health Problems.

Gone through 24 Surgeries, Including a Total Abdominal Hysterectomy at the age of 23.

Chemotherapy from the age of 25-26 for Stage II Sarcoidosis.

Twenty years (age of 14-35) of GCF-S Injections *(That I am no longer provided since 2015, so my SCN is disintegrating.

And the Counltess drugs I have tried for my Disability, reoccurring Sinus Infections.

Then Disability.

I’m all tapped out.

And if it isn’t enough, where’s my Career/Income?

“The most poetic thing in the world is not being sick.” G.K. Chesterton

Marriage Defunct


Lá Fhéile Pádraig Shona!

My Favorite Western Holiday, And I’m Stuck In Bed With An:

1. Acute Sinus Infection

2. Ear Infection

3. Chills/Fatigue

*(Ontop of my other Health Issues and Disability).

I started the rigorous course of intense Antibiotics today *(I could only afford the Oral. I need the EarDrops, but it is $66.00 WITH Insurance**(That I haven’t been able to afford).

But, this morning wasn’t about botched plans last night *(I was supposed to go on a Date with someone I have been talking to for about 2 weeks. It would have been our first date. He got mad. Whatever it was, it’s over).

Or the fact I am so sick, have to Teach, and miss another Holiday

But, the fact I am angry about something I came across last night.

My Ex-Husband.

His Girlfriend posted something public about her children and someone made a comment referring to my Ex-Husband.

It brought back all of the pain, anger, hurt on how he treated me and how it ended.

I’m currently finishing tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom.

A Book I purchased years ago, started it years ago, and it got lost within other books, work, then Disability.

The part of the book that is really reaching to me pulling me inside is how “Morrie” describes “Detachment.”

The concept of the philosophy of being Detached is apart of my own Religion (Buddhist), but I have never been great and the art of detachment [in a healthy formula].

So, when I was finishing my first set of my morning routine (in such sickness) I thought about the Book and Detachment.

What my Ex-Husband did to me and how he treated me, the memories are forever there, but how do I detach from it now *(i.e seeing the Post and becoming angry and letting it infiltrate my current being.

I typed him a a Letter a few months back. But, never sent it. It was more therapeutic at the time when I chose my words.

But, now, I want to re-enter the Letter and send it.

Detaching myself, permantley in writing my emotions and my soul.

He deserves to know what he did was awful and how he was as a Husband.

It reminds me of a title of a Pink Floyd album “A Momentary Lapse of Reason.” (1987).

Is that what the Letter represents or will become?

I can type a 1,000 pages and all he has to do is discard them in the trash.

*(My plan was/is to mail the Letter).

In addition, I have not received any photos of our Dog in over seven months. *(Just the single photo of when he my Ex-Husband picked him up).

How do I detach from that?

For Nicholas

Original Post
March 16, 2013
March 16, 2016

My only Saturday Post.

Today, was your death.

Why did you do it?
Finding yourself in the corners of your suicide closet, noose in hand, ready to exit your successful life.

My mortality deems you already dead before you turned two.
She chose You, your Mother.
It’s as if a piece of her extinction was passed through you as the gas curtains closed upon her.
Tragedy at its best.
Defeat at its worst.

You, look so much like her.
She would have loved you more.


Dr. Nicholas Hughes in 2000 in his office at the University of Alaska Fairbanks campus.
Photo by Dave Partee.

Nick And The Candle Stick

”I am a miner. The light burns blue. Waxy stalactites Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb

Exudes from its dead boredom. Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls, Cold homicides. They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium Icicles, old echoer. Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes. And the fish, the fish—-Christ! They are panes of ice,

A vice of knives, A piranha Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes. The candle Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten. O love, how did you get here? O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep, Your crossed position. The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby. The pain You wake to is not yours.

Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses. With soft rugs—-

The last of Victoriana. Let the stars Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric Atoms that cripple drip Into the terrible well,

You are the one Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn.”

Sylvia Plath

*My own Mother called me on March 16, 2009, telling me
Nicholas Hughes killed himself.
I had no need to ask ”Who?”
Shocked then anger came over me as if I controlled the weather.
My fondness expired for Plath’s own destiny, but her work remains as my exemplar.

‘Les Yeux Sans Visage’

As I listen to this album, Greatest Hits by Billy Idol *(whom I’ve loved since I was kid), “Eyes Without A Face” is such a fantastic track.

It’s very different from all his main stream music. There’s a sadness, dark element to the lyrics, then with the French Chorus sung by his Female Back-up Singers, translated into English by himself then that riff and almost angry poetic end.

Even the music critics hailed this track as

The music plays against the dark tone of the lyrics with a ballad-styled melody comprised of yearning verses that slowly build emotion and a quietly wrenching chorus that relieves the emotional tension in a cathartic manner.” AllMusic Journalist, Donald A. Guarisco.

The relationship I’ve had with this track has changed depending what is occurring in my life, but there is still the same undertone of sadness everytime I listen to it on repeat.

Now, I listen because I do not understand all this rejection, loss.

Loss: of my Career, Income, Relationships.

Rejection: of possibilities, assistants, and Relationships.

I’m all out of hope
One more bad dream could bring a fall?

There is so much truth. My Disability. My Loss Of Career, Income. The Fact I Have To Work From Home And It Was Stripped From Me For Nothing I Did Wrong.
When I’m far from home
Don’t call me on the phone
To tell me you’re alone

The Pain From Being Alone And Not Even Allowed To Return Home.
It’s easy to deceive

My Career. How They Treated Me. Relationships, How People Can Just Treat Another Person Is Unbelievable.

I spend so much time
Believing all the lies
To keep the dream alive
Now it makes me sad
It makes me mad at truth
For loving what was you

It’s so painfully difficult to actually re-read these set of lyrics because I did believe in it all and now I’m left with nothing (literally).

I kept my dream alive as a dedicated Educator only to be thrown away, my hardwork, erased.

The next set of lyrics is the emotional prose. A fast storm of almost rage.


Now I close my eyes
And I wonder why
I don’t despise
Now all I can do
Love what was once
So alive and new
But it’s gone from your eyes
I’d better realize.”

This is me. I’m not the same due to my Disability, this is obvious, reality.

But, after my Best Friend took his life 18 Months Ago, the reflection I see in photographs post his Death, the light, happiness is gone from my eyes.

All I did/do to remain was continue to be successful at my Career (now different not on my behalf) and keep my secret as it is killing me.

There’s no coming back from that, as I know from surviving three extreme attempts on my own life.

Idol ends this perfect track

Such a human waste your eyes without a face
And now it’s getting worse.” Eyes Without A Face.

Truth in all dimensions. But, with no support(Financial, Relationships), why the fuck should I care?

The Friday Disease 

You were the one Jon.

I know that now, and I have to live with it for the rest of my life.

Jij was de ware. Niet alleen mijn beste vriend, maar die ene. Ik vind het jammer dat ik je heb laten gaan. Voor altijd.

Originally Published:


Friday night. 7:50p.m. In-bed with Tachycardia, Dehydration, Slight Fever, Oh And A Colon Manifested With Pain.

A Lot Of Vomiting And Usage Of Facilities Today Due To My Wretched Colon.

Exhausted From Lack Of Sleep (I have not slept for more than eight hours straight, interrupted since July 2016), Work, Chronic Illnesses, Dysautonomia(my Disability), and well, Life.

Existence: “The fact or state of living or having objective reality.” Dictionary

I played a lot today with my existing Nostalgia, when I wasn’t bleeding from inside out.

I remembered a time in my life, College, University, Uni, whatever you call it, I call it some of the happiest and darkest times of my-self.

But, Nostalgia is not necessarily sadness. For me, it brings me a few moments of peace in my decaying present.

So, Friday Nights from 2001-2003, mostly in epic proportion with friendship, music, laughter, and oh yes, drinking. I could out drink them all. 🙂 *(I had a Rule as an Undergraduate, “No drinking during the week.” In 3 years, I broke my rule ONCE).

I thought about my Best Friend Jon. How much admiration and respect he gave among our tangled friendship. (He loved me. I did not).

We walked the same path in College, working hard, partying hard. Metal Heads. Ethnic. Gym Rats. Simpático.

He was my protector, my confidant. He was Jon. I will say there were at times magic between our eyes (Elizabeth Taylor is not the only one with true Amethyst Irises).

Even after a bottle of Jack Daniels (6’4″ Dutch Guy could kill a bottle of Jack and still walk five miles) his smile could still tear me apart. As I, a case of Coors Light.

We would just talk. Drink yes, talk more. It was easier to…, I had a Single Dorm. Yes, Metal in the background. That was a must. Korn, Slipknot, System of a Down, Pantera to name a few favorites.

We both had secrets, sorrow, and this gave our Friendship the foundation we both needed. He shared many personal heartaches, family melancholia, almost a tortured soul. He liked the fact I was a different type of girl, a girl who didn’t mind when he had guys night instead of partying in 1040 Higgins Hall (My Dorm, which was Imploded on July 1, 2017. I was there for it. *He lived in Higgins Hall as well. Fourth Floor. Aka The Zoo it was called). He liked the fact I didn’t cry everytime I drank (NEVER) or need him to hold my hair so I could puke in the hallway (NEVER). He enjoyed it when I could sing like a Metal Head (I was in a Metal Band before College) and know every lyric by memory and heart.

Not your average College Girl by far. Maybe that’s why he loved me. I was unattainable.

And I look back now, and I regret that.

But, those were my issues, my pain, my destruction.

I didn’t know how to love him back. And this something that eats away at what’s left of my own heart.

Present: “Existing or occuring now. The period of time now occurring.” Dictionary

We have not spoken to eachother since 2012. His Wife will not let him maintain any sort of contact/Friendship with me. *They met in College when he began his Master’s Program, ironically I was attending mine too. He left his Program without Graduating, I stayed and received my first M.A as that was the last time I saw him.


Many. If I could love you back, I think we would have ended up together. It was a Destiny not fulfilled. And when Destiny is interrupted by failure, souls are lost forever.

Friday Nights. How you have changed.

Explicit Moon

Chronicle Consort

Strike 3.

Sunday afternoon tears, black from yesterday’s noir mascara. As I recollect last evening and my destiny interrupted by failure, souls, lost forever.

I had a Date *(it was planned about 5 Days in-advanced) with someone actually well known in the Publishing World *(He’s a Journalist and a CEO).

He chose the Date, Time, and Location.

I agreed.

After Wednesday’s fiasco, I was hesitant, more reluctant to go through with the Date.

Saturday came, I taught two Classes, *(Reminded it was my last week [again] of steady hours), ran an errand, and then tried to rest and contemplate what I would wear on said Date, wondering if the person who attacked me on Wednesday was sorry, and texting someone new from the Social Site (which is done now too).

So, I attend the Date.

I was late. Remember, driving is very difficult for me let alone eating.

He didn’t mind I was late, but he had already ordered an adult beverage and was munching on Chips and a variety of Salsas.

We talked. A lot.

We ordered.

I played it safe. I ordered Ceviche (only able to eat about 4 or 5 bites, but I did take it to go).

The Date came to an end within an hour since he had just returned from a Trip and had to drive 30 minutes back.

I asked the inevitable question,

So do you want to do this again?


I sat there, shocked, more electrocuted.


He said he has a Dating Rule. He let me read it *(Remember, he’s a Journalist)

He has to be “Interested.”

And he was not Interested in me even though he text me everyday (photographs, pieces of his Articles, and a Video Clip). I even got “Good Morning” texts.

I was beyond confused, and hurt.

So, I asked why?

His reply: I don’t have an answer just like I can’t explain why when I am interested. I just know.

Not good enough.

So, I asked if it was because I was late (No), Do I not look like my photos (No).

Then what?!

He had no response.


He then said to me if I was offended.


But, I have never had a Man tell me he’s not “Interested” like this. Ever.

Then he goes on to explain that a first date to him is like an Interview.

I was done.

I wasted my time, my Health, driving for this?

I was furious (and still hurt).

After running another errand, coming home to three piles of Cat Puke, and so much Cleaning and Laundry, I started reflecting on me.

What has happened to me?

I was aces in the Dating World. Even if the Relationship was casual or short-term.

As I stated before, it’s like a curse. A dark, violent cloud over and in me since I became Disabled. I can not retain any kind of Relationship. Either Abandoned, Death, Belongs To Someone Else, Or Psychopaths.

I guess I’m meant to remain alone.


Love Matchbox Vol. 2


I had a “date” three evenings ago.

It was with someone who I met on Sunday via the Social Site my Therapist recommended.

I already had one major strike-out, so I went into this with a different attitude and shift in my own perspective.

Our late night telephone conversations were connection, passionate, interesting.

We shared the same ideas on Politics, we like our Careers.

On Wednesday, he insisted he was coming over after I had finished Educating at 8:00p.m

I politely explained that I have had such a busy day (6 Classes), and Wednesdays are a Routine Night: Garbage/Recycle and Catbox.

This takes a lot out of me. *(My Disability and my Extensive Neck and Back Issues). **I did tell him about my Back, but thank GOODNESS I didn’t reveal my Disability.

He keeps on pushing me stating “We’ll see each other everyday anyway.

So, he gets here.

Right away.

R U D E.

1. You look tired. Your eye make-up is smeared.

2. Do you like my House?

It’s okay. You pay too much.

You don’t have black hair

*Takes out ponytail.

Oh, it’s getting brown on the top.

1.5 Hours Later,

Then things move into the darkest insane twilight zone.

He’s in my kitchen trying to make Basmati Rice in my Rice Cooker. It turned out soupy, then he just lays into me.

It was awful.

He was yelling at me about how the last few conversations I’ve been complaining about my life and Job *(I told him ONCE when he asked why I seemed “different’ on the telephone that particular evening).

He belittled me, attacking me.

Then it all became an interrogation of my life, pieces I shared with him.

He felt “he needed logic. Things just don’t make sense.

This lasted another hour or so.

I was trying to reason with him, understand him.

This behavior made absolutely no sense.

Not ONE sign of this ‘person’ was expressed/exposed during our hours of conversations.

After his apology, and stating he would be back tomorrow (since he left his food he paid for, a week’s worth)

He left around 2:15a.m.

We never spoke again.

What the fuck is wrong with people?