Why I take birth control even though my insurance doesn't cover the kind I like, by Caitlin

This Blog.

Like coming off the pill that you take to stay happy

I am a full two weeks back on anti-depressants, and it pisses me off to tell you that they are working.
Goddamn mental stability!
It pisses me off mostly at myself for thinking that I could stop them, when it was a particularly bad time to try to do so. It pisses me off because I feel like I wasted my summer being depressed because I was too stubborn to take medication.
This summer was the longest I've been off anti-depressants since I started taking them over 10 years ago. And I'm not sure that my life will ever be stable enough for me to go off them again....not like I plan on being some vagabond for the rest of my life, but we always have stuff going on that can be hard and it turns out I can't deal.
I have certainly been depressed while on anti-depressants...usually then I just change the meds or change the dose or whatever. But being on anti-depressants doesn't make me happy. I think I have written before about how much I hate it when people call prozac a "happy pill". I am not an especially happy person. I will never be a happy person. Prozac lets me funtion. Depression is a little cocoon for me. It's actually comforting. On anti-depressants I can actually feel myself coming out of my little depression nest....it's like getting out of bed. There are days when being curled up in bed is pleasant and relaxing, and forcing yourself to throw those covers off and expose yourself to the air makes you feel vulnerable. I really feel like I don't have a blanket over me when I'm not depressed.

Anyway, it's making my life a lot better. Things are going better at my job and it feels more manageable. I get less frustrated with my supervisor, and I don't cry every time I am frustrated.

My roommates make me laugh more than anything. Stoner and her dyke friend were having a burping contest yesterday. That was awesome to listen to.

I threw away another empty bag of cheese that someone left in the fridge.

Tomorrow I am buying toilet paper to keep in my room because I have bought a substantial amount-at least 9 rolls-twice in a row. We are now down to the last roll and someone has brought in a single roll of Scott. Fuck that shit. Charmin's in my room, bitches.

Asperger's has these really short shorts she likes to wear around the house. Like you can see the bottom part of her ass when she wears them. But it's getting cold and we don't have heat. Some people, like myself, stop wearing their around-the-house shorts when it gets that cold. But not Asperger's. She apparently can't give up those fucking shorts. The other day she comes barrelling out of her room like she does and she is wearing the short shorts and what could best be described as thigh-high gym socks. The kind with a couple horizontal stripes around the top except the top part is at the top of her thigh instead of, say, the lower part of a calf. So she stomps through the living room with her asperger's gait and it's: short shorts, little bit of ass, and then thigh high gym sock on down.
I laughed as she was walking by. Fortunately her disorder prevents her from paying attention to her surroundings. She and I watched two episodes of the new duggar show today. I have a lot to say about the Duggars, but that is for next time.

Sad News for my blog

Most of my readers now come from google searches looking for amish friendship bread or pictures of robin weigert. I'm not sure how to feel about that. I doubt they come back for a second read, although hopefully I have deterred people from starting an AFB ring of cinnamon sugar hell.

sunny days sweeipin' the clouds away

It was a beautiful fall day yesterday and I was walking around Brooklyn with my friend and he remarked that the day reminded him of Sesame Street. Now, the day did not remind me of Sesame Street, although walking around in Brooklyn often does. But, what it really made me think about was how much most things remind me of tv shows that I watched growing up. Perennial favorites for references are Punky Brewster and The Cosby Show. As in: Oh, I see that person took the door off the fridge when they put it out for garbage. You're supposed to do that I learned from the episode of Punky Brewster where Cherie gets trapped in the fridge and Punky and Margo have to give her CPR and Allen is no help because he was fucking around when they learned how to do it in class. Or: Oh, I love to sew but I don't think I would ever make shirts...they would end up looking like the faux designer shirt Denise made for Theo with one sleeve to long and all kinds of messed up.
As a matter of fact, if I could compare everything in my life to a tv show from the 80's I probably would.
As I get older, my other TV favorite reference is Friends. As in a recent discussion with my friend about having to go out to lunch for a goodbye party for a co-worker and ordering the second cheapest thing on the menu only to learn the tab was divided equally among the entire group so now I got spaghetti marinara and I have to pay for your shrimp alfredo. Both of us were reminded of the episode of Friends where the 3 poorest friends: Rachel, Joey and Phoebe (at the time -this was while Rachel was still a waitress and Joey wasn't yet Dr. Drake Ramore) are lamenting that they have to go out to fancy dinners with the other three when they can't afford it.
Although the ubiquitous NYC reference show in recent years is Sex and the City, I find that I can in no way relate and it rarely enters my discussions.
But here is my secret confession. The show I think about almost every day, but don't have the guts to bring up in polite conversation: Ghostwriter.
Here are instances where I think about it:
1. Ghostwriter was set in Brooklyn, I live in Brooklyn.
2: Alex's family owns a bodega which I had only ever heard of from the show. Now I go to a bodega several times a week.
3: Community gardens. I pass at least one, and sometimes two, community gardens when I walk to the gym. And every time. Every goddamn time I walk past I think of the Ghostwriter story arc in which the neighborhood is getting sick from vegetables grown in the community garden because some company had buried toxic waste barrels in the garden.
4: There are countless other instances in which Ghostwriter is brought to mind and I am too ashamed to write about them here.

So what tv shows do you find yourself referring to frequently?

My fame is unending

I am the comment of the day on Postcards From Yo Momma!

They're usually up for a couple days but in case it's gone, the postcard said was:
I understand how easy it is to get hooked on daytime TV talk shows. This past summer my best friends were the ladies on the view and I finally realized they were not really that interesting most of the time. I was only watching to see what they wore. I also watched the beginning of Ellen on occasion so I would have someone to dance with. Pitiful right? So I went “cold turkey” and found other interests.

And my comment said:
My mom's best friends are the Good Morning America team.

Your own personal hell

Mom: i got tired of the pile on my desk and dumped it in a box--:(

so now i have to sort the box

me: hahaha

i'm sorry

2:30 PM Mom: when i die and go to hell i am sure it will be a place with papers to deal with

2:31 PM me: ha mine would be filled with supervisors and awkward people

oh, wait...


What is your personal hell?

Re-visiting old friends

There is nothing of interest going on in my life. Frank drank my milk, left a tablespoon of milk and then bought me some new.
Here is a blog I wrote in July of 2007 which is kind of funny. I saw Nelson on the train tonight on my way home. If you don't remember Nelson, he was mentioned in this post as the first neighbor I ever met...the one who has HIV and leukemia (which is apparently in remission).
So I get on the train and I look next to me, and there is Nelson sitting there. I see him every once in a while in the neighborhood and we'll say hi or whatever. So he's sitting on the train and we look over and recognize each other and so I say hi and he gets all queeny and gives me a big hug and says, "Hi!! omg I haven't seen you in ohmygod! I can't even remember the last time I saw you so I'll just say I haven't seen you in ohmygod!"
We chatted like old friends the rest of the way on the train. By that, of course, that I mean he rambled on while I sat there and tried to decide if he was high or just crazy. Topics included: his leukemia, and how it is in remission. His HIV, and how he still has it. His husband's viral load, and how it's slightly higher than they would like it to be. The new diet they are on to try to get his viral load down. Their new business, and how if I ever want to I can get my computer fixed for free. And also, how, apparently he was (just last night) telling his husband how I should come over for dinner.
I do not think this last part was true. 1. he did not know my name. He had to ask me. He later explained it by saying that he couldn't remember my name just now, but that last night he remembered it and was talking to his husband about me and how I'm such a great neighbor. 2. He's just a big crackhead liar. He kept saying things and I was like, you're making this up just right now. He said that he and his husband have been together 20 years, but last night was the first time they'd ever kissed. His husband's birthday is coming up, Nelson doesn't know what to get him but, "girl, you and I should go down to 5th avenue and just do some shopping to get him something. I am going to borrow my mom's car. Do you have a driver's license? Is it valid? Mine is suspended. But I just knew that you would be able to drive. In fact, I had you in mind to drive when I asked my mom to borrow her car."
I am not making this up. And this is how I accidentally invited him to dinner. I just off-handedly mentioned that I was going to be barbecuing, which I guess meant that Nelson and his husband should join Abby and I. In fact! It can be a celebration barbecue, because Nelson has been clean for 11 years...actually! today is the anniversary!
And that is the type of thing that I was like, you're just saying that....I'm not entirely sure that he's clean at all, but even if he is, it just felt like he was making up that this was the anniversary.
As we were walking home he asked a woman if he could buy a cigarette off of her. He then asked me for 50 cents, because he didn't think he had it. I said I had a quarter, and he was like, "oh maybe I have another quarter." So he reaches into his pocket and he totally had like 75 cents in there. Crack head scam artist.
So he decided he should come over at 8:30 for dinner. Crack heads tend to be flaky, so my only hope was that he would forget. It may have been the only hope I had that my roommate wouldn't kick me out. When she came home and I told her that I had accidentally invited Nelson over, she was real, real irritated.
But, fortunately for my livelihood, he did not show up. And that will just teach me to be a little bit quicker on my feet next time I run into one of my crack head neighbors on the train.
Nelson also gave me a juicy juice juice box. I guess it was a fair trade for the quarter he scammed.


Abby was my roommate for a year and a half. And we had a good, but kind of weird relationship. She came home that night and I told her that I accidentally invited Nelson over for dinner. All she said was "Goddammit Caitlin!" and went to her room. Months later she told me that he did stop by at like midnight but I was already in bed. I think she just said that to make me feel bad.

Small Items

I caved and quit OCM. My forehead looks like a rash broke out on it, it's pretty intense. And some people wrote things on message boards about how they should have quit when that happened because it just got worse.

I went to the doctor today because I am going to go back on anti-depressants. Apparently I will be mentally ill for the rest of my life. I'm bummed because I really wanted to quit them...but I also need to be able to get out of bed in the morning and that's not really happening so much recently. So back on we go.

It doesn't help that my living situation continues to blow. Add to the list of items in my fridge that shouldn't be there: empty carton of milk AND a mailing envelope.

Or that my job continues to suck.

I am looking for jobs in Oregon. I probably will move in January if I can.

My internet is super inconsistent here.

I really hate living here. A lot. It's fine when no one is around but stoner roommate was smoking weed and watching tv very loudly with her friends in the middle of the night and my sink is full of dishes.

I waited for the doctor for over an hour. He met with me for literally 5 minutes. I just told him what prescriptions I used to be on and wanted to be back on. And then he wrote them for me. If I had known that it was going to be like that I would have thought of something fun I wanted to be on.

My internet disconnected while I was writing that last paragraph. Hate it here.

On the plus side, since I can't watch the shows I wanted to since two roommates are watching baseball (let the snapping begin!) I think I am going to go to the gym and I wasn't going to.

Dating Disaster # 5: Don't take No for an answer

I met this Dating Disaster at a bar the same night as my date with Awkward Sexual Innuendo Guy. I abandoned ASI guy to meet my friends at the bar. However, they were all kind of talking to people so I was just sitting around. In my experience this is actually the best way to meet dudes at bars, if you're so inclined to want to do that. You're casually social with your friends, enjoying yourself, you don't look grumpy and depressed slumped at the bar by yourself and you're open game.

So this dude and I, David, started talking about the new taco truck they had put in at the bar and just kept chatting. Things were going well and he didn't come off as a douche and I was feeling pretty positive about the whole thing. However, after my disastrous date and a few other recent mishaps I had just decided earlier that day that I was going to go on a hiatus from dating. And if not from dating as a whole, certainly from one night stands and other doomed from the start dating endeavors. Which is why when David invited me back to his place I politely declined. And, because I am more open than anyone needs to be, I actually let him know that unfortunately, just that very day, I had decided not to sleep with people that I don't know.

"Oh nonono!" David said. "I didn't mean it like that...I just want to spend more time with you outside of the bar. I don't want to have sex. Of course not! I'll just sleep on the couch and you can sleep in the bed...I just wanted to get to know you better!"

Ok, ok, so I know this was a line, and I knew it was a line then...but I have the self control of a toddler so of course I ended up going home with him.

This is not actually where the disaster is. The sexy time, the next morning, all of that was really good as far as dudes from bars goes. In fact, I was actually feeling really positively about the whole experience and I had enjoyed spending time with this guy.

About a week later he called me. Another good sign. Even though I am stuck in The Rules 1995 and feel that 3 days should be the timeframe, my standards are low enough at this point that I'll accept a week. So he was at a local bar with some friends and wanted me to come out. This was more points in his favor as I think it's a bad sign when a dude won't introduce you to his friends.

So, still...no disasters here. All in all things were going well at the bar. I was having a nice time with his friends. He was being really sweet. I was feeling really good about everything.
But then we get to the time where he is thinking that maybe we should go back to his place. But I just really didn't want to.

A lot of my DDandCC's happen because I have sex with people way before I should. As sex positive as I am, I do believe that it leads dudes to have less respect for me and it doesn't really bode well for a strong relationship. So I told David that I really liked him and for that reason I did not want to go home with him.

"Oh! Nononono!" David said. "I didn't mean it like that! Of course we don't have to have sex. I just wanted to get something to eat! Why don't we just go back to my place and I'll make some pasta! No sex at all! Just a midnight snack!" (Edit: I was just re-reading this and realized I wrote "sex" instead of "snack". Oh, Freud)

Of course, I know that this is a line. But I'm really, really working on my self control and I explain to him my reasoning and insist that I just really don't want to go back to his place.

Meanwhile we had met this random girl and her mom (the girl was about our age) who were really funny and we had been talking with them. So we talk with them for a while and periodically David would bring up wanting to go back to his place and I would decline.

Eventually I am talking with the women alone and they asked me if David and I were a couple because we were so cute together. I was pretty excited about this because, even if he was being kind of obnoxious about getting me to go back to his place, I felt that it was another good sign.
So I joked, just as David re-entered the conversation, that we were not a couple and had just met recently and that he was trying to get me to go home with him but I wasn't going to because I was a respectable woman.

I thought David would get the joke since obviously he knew that we had already had sex. Boy was I wrong. We left the bar and he flipped the fuck out.

As we're standing out on the sidewalk David starts yelling at me, saying I made him look like an asshole and what did I think I was doing.
I was completely blindsided and I still don't understand why he was mad.
"You were trying to get me to go home with you," I explained. "Plus, you don't know those women and you'll never see them again. What do you care?"
He blustered something about it not being like that and that he just wanted to get something to eat and blah blah stuff I don't remember because I was kind of drunk.
Finally he calmed down, "Let's go get some pizza."

So we went to the pizza place and we're ordering when David realizes he doesn't have any cash.
"Let's just go back to my place and I'll get some cash", he suggested.
"Aaaah! I don't want to go home with you!"
He blustered some more about that he needed to get cash or whatever. Which was total bullshit, obviously, because there are ATMs on every corner in that neighborhood.
We mumbled some apologies as I left.
"Listen." I said. "I date a lot of assholes, and I don't need it from you."
"That's just it! I'm not an asshole!"
"Ok. Well. We're both drunk. Let's talk when we're not."

Predictably, we never spoke again. At first I was hurt, because I actually probably would have hung out with him again. But that just goes back to all of my self respect issues. Because, bottom line, he was an asshole. A not-asshole would take me at face value when I say I don't want to have sex, without an explanation. A moderate asshole would take it after an explanation. But he just wouldn't let it go. Even after we get into a huge fight about it he comes up with some nonsense to get me back to his place.
Ridiculous. It's too bad though because he worked for MAC and totes could have hooked me up. Oh well.

In OCM news: I think I am in the end phases of the purging stage. Not so sure how I feel about it, because I have a ton of red marks. Hoping they go away soon. I've been using the apple cider vinegar toner, which is recommended for the red marks.

In roommate news: I have had maybe 3 conversations with Asperger's. Two of them involved her wanting to be in on cookies I had made and the third is a combination of passing remarks I have made. Today she noted that I do not like local news. Which is true. And I must have mentioned that in conversation number 3. They DO care about me!

You can live the life you like

I think because my life is so the opposite of what I would like it to be right now, I have turned to blogs that have nothing to do with anything relevant to my current life.
Here is a secret about me...I live in Brooklyn, but I am not really cut out for urban living. What I want, really, is the American cliche. I want a garden. I want to bake my own bread. I want to eat food made from scratch and not delivered by an Asian dude on a bike. I want to sew clothes for my children and experiment with gluten free diets. I want to live alone...with space and cute decor. I want to become a luddite.
In reality, I live in the largest metropolitan area in the US. I am all but tied to my laptop and my DVR. I shop at Target weekly. I have shootings on my doorstep and dead cockroaches in my hallway. I live in a frat house with three other people who don't talk to me. Sure, I try to insert little bits of my fantasy life into my real life. The recent introduction of the OCM is an example. I try to bake bread, but only succeed in making hard tack. I bake my little heart out...and then in my depression binge eat my product. I shop at the farmer's market. I made my own pesto! Using farmer's market basil! I nearly chopped off my finger when I turned on the chopper while I was using my finger to clean it out. Because I am a moron. But it's not enough, so I take refuge in blogs.
My current favorite is Hillbilly Housewife. But there are others. Basically these blogs have a few things in common. Usually they are written by very Christian women. They always have several children. They homeschool. They live frugally. They sew.
The frugal living is what usually draws me in in the first place because I come across these blogs when I am looking for tips for leaving on the cheap. But I don't know what it is that appeals to me that I keep coming back. I think part of it is that these women seem to have it together in a way that really appeals to me. They are organized enough to home school, keep a clean and organized home (all I want!), bake healthy homemade meals AND blog. I can't even manage to blog on regular basis. They clip coupons and know how to shop for deals. They would never impulse buy a $7 half gallon of Edy's American Idol birthday cake ice cream. They would make their own for 50 cents! They buy things in bulk. They use powdered milk.
And obviously I don't want my life to be like that either. One of the blogs I read, the woman covers her hair and "dresses modestly" because of her religious beliefs. And I'm not sure I could ever get on board with powdered milk. I think I would die if I had to homeschool children....not to mention they would all end up with the personality of Asperger's roommate. But I think extreme opposite of what my life is like now somehow becomes desireable...at least to read about, if not live.

Speaking of creating awkward children, I decided to google Asperger's roommate. My original motivation was because I had heard her talking, like almost normally, with stoner roommate. So I became concerned that she actually she hates me specifically, and that it was because she had found my facebook or my blog. Part of the reason I have felt comfortable writing about them on facebook (i.e. status messages that say "I hate my roommates") and in my blog is because they have all shown so little interest in me that I assumed they would never decide to look me up. But what if?
So first I found Asperger's Xanga (people still keep Xangas?). Where she has some angsty entries and song lyrics that are soooo meaningful. She also has a picture of herself- check it out She's all bright and cheery homecoming queen with beautiful hair. She does NOT look like that now. And she does not look like the face of Asperger's in that picture. She walks with a stompy Asperger's gait, ignores people, has short brown hair, bad skin and in general just slouches around.
And here is my favorite part. When she was in college, she auditioned to be in Playboy. Here is the link to the article. Apparently Playboy came to Arizona State where she went to college.

Claire [redacted], a 20-year-old UA student, said her history with modeling and theater prompted her interest in auditioning for Playboy. "It's a good experience," she said. "It's something you can look back on and say, 'I did that.' It's something to be proud of."

Previous modeling experience? If I didn't know that this is where she had gone to school, I would assume it was just another girl with the same name. Because that is not the girl I live with who shuts herself up in her room for hours a day. What happened to her?

In OCM news - so far I'm a big fan. Obviously in 3 days my face isn't completely clear, but I have noticed some differences. 1: My forehead felt like I had buckshot embedded under the skin, and that has dramtically improved already. Sebum plugs to the surface FTW! I can totally feel them coming up when I do it. 2: For the past several weeks I have probably had at least one new pimple every day, and I haven't had any in the 3 days I've been doing it. 3. My skin had been very oily. I would wash my face around 8 am and by 11 am I was already breaking out the oil blotting papers and I would use two and still feel like my skin was greasy. Since I've been doing OCM my skin has been significantly less oily. I used one blotting paper one day and it wasn't nearly as bad.
I've been doing the OCM at night. Some people in the morning just splash their face with water. The one day I did that was the day that I used the blotting paper. So I have been using a neutrogena cleanser in the morning and a little tea tree oil on the spots that are still there and that keeps my face in good shape all day. Today I made a toner from Apple Cider Vinegar and tea. It's supposed to help reduce red marks. I'll report back.
The downside is that it's definitely a commitment. The whole process takes about 15 minutes because I steam my face to make sure the oil really gets out. But otherwise I am a fan.

So that's it for now. I'm going to go back to my embroidery.

My regime? The regime from which the radicals are trying to get free?

Throughout my adolescence I had pretty decent skin with not a lot of problems...maybe a breakout around the lady time, but not too much else.
Then, on the day of graduation when we had the all-night party that they always have I started to feel a huge cystic pimple on my chin. That single cystic pimple marked the beginning of the end of my manageable skin and that summer I developed the first of many bouts with acne and went on acne medication for the first time.
The skin issues come and go depending on hormones, weather, stress, diet, etc. Currently, I am in the middle of a bad spell with the skin. Not the worst it's ever been, but enough to make me feel pretty gross.
To make it worse I was sick last week - that, combined with the stress of the new job and lame living situation, has caused me to break out in herp of the mouth.
Once, when I was 8 and my sister was 6 we went to Papa's Pizza (the place to see and be seen on a Friday night for elementary schoolers in Eugene, Oregon in 1990). We ran into a kid from my sister's class, Andy. He is actually like some physics genius now, but unfortunately I don't remember his last name. This is because, on that Friday night in 1990 when we ran into him in the play room at Papa's, he had apparently finished his pizza dinner and neglected to thoroughly wipe his mouth. He had pizza sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth. My sister and I ran around and called him Andy Pizza Face....and not just for that night. Oh no. Recently my sister sent me a link to something about some crazy science thing he had done at Harvard. "Oh look!" We exclaimed. "Andy Pizza Face is up for a nobel prize!"
My herp of the mouth makes me look like Andy Pizza Face. But without the credentials.
So in my neverending quest to find a solution for my skin, I am now trying the Oil Cleansing Method.
Check out the link if you wanna, but this is basically it: Wash your face with oil.
People swear by it. People who say they have never had any luck with anything else claim this solved everything.
Here's the downside, apparently your skin goes through a "purging process" as it gets rid of all this shit that has built up, so it gets worse before it gets better. I'm not really looking forward to this. And there is no way of knowing really if it's purging and will get better, or if you have just fated yourself to Edward James Olmos territory.
So, today was day 1. I made my little mixture. Steamed my face. Washed it off. Followed up with some Tea tree oil on the existing problems.
My favorite part is that you are supposed to think relaxing and positive thoughts about your skin getting clear. The Secret + OCM!.
I also really like that it's natural because every once in awhile I get all hippie and decide I need to put less toxins in my body.
My second favorite part is that you are supposed to massage it in until you feel little granules, which are sebum plugs coming to the surface. It's so nasty, I love it.
Anyway, I am willing to give it a month and we'll see. One thing I read said several months, but fuck that, I would rather go to the dermatologist and have them look at me disapprovingly while admonishing me for being a skin picker.
In the meantime, I will take solace in the fact that at least for the next month, every day, I will get to be conscious of sebum plugs. Assuming I don't get bored of the whole thing, which is kind of a process and likely to become tiresome.