Get Behind Me Satan

Recently someone told me that a certain song makes them think of me, and it's on this CD, and I have listened to it a bunch of times and am still at a complete and total loss for how exactly it could remind him of me. I guess that is probably part of the reason we broke up. Whenever I think of him lately I feel like a tiny little piece of shit. Because I feel like I did something terrible to a person who didn't deserve it. It's not his fault I couldn't handle him. *Sigh* I know that eventually we will all be OK, because most wounds heal -- well either that or they kill you, and I am not a killing kind of a wound-- but I really wish I could get over feeling guilty for not loving him enough. And for wanting something with someone new, wanting everything with someone new. Wondering if maybe all I've ever wanted is waiting in this one someone new. (No pressure, by the way.) I can feel the guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt.... It's beating me like rain.

Earlier I was thinking about the title of this album, and how it made no sense to me at all at first, but I think I get it -- or at least part of it now. It's the loss of love, both given and received, and how it can make you crazy if you let it tear you up. How it can tempt you to do things you know you shouldn't, how it can make you be evil to someone you thought you loved. How when it's ending, it brings out the devil in you, and once it's over, you just have to get it behind you. How to do that I haven't exactly figured out yet. But I will keep listening, and let you know, if anyone is still reading this garbage.

You think not tellin' is the same as not lyin', don't you?
Well I guess not feeling is the same as not cryin' to you?
In the red... in the rain....

The White Stripes


Other than being eaten alive with guilt from the inside out, I guess I'm OK.

Except that I may have been incorrectly medicated by my pharmacist at Walgreen's. She filled my perscription for my thyroid (I have Hashimoto's Disease, Google it) incorrectly a month ago. The bottle said I had 60 pills as of 5/27, and today I went to pick up the refill cuz I had one left, which made me realize that I'd only gotten 30 pills. In May I noticed that they were bigger than they normally are as well, which I thought was because my doctor increased my dosage, but today my mom and I realized that the pill I've taken every day for the last 30 some odd days was the wrong one. Definitely the wrong size, and who knows if it was even for my thyroid??!! So, I foresee bloodwork in my very near future (yick!), and perhaps a multimillion dollar lawsuit (ha, wouldn't that be great?) against Walgreen's if I end up growing a sixth toe or something. Just my luck it'd probably end up being something to increase the hideousness of my poor feet. But that would decrease my 'quality of life' pretty significantly, which is good for lawsuits (but bad for sandal wearing in the summertime), right lawyers?!?

How scary is that though, that you could take a prescription to your pharmacist for penicillin, and he could fill it up with oh, say, cyanide? And just kill you like that. It's blind trust in the system. You never know what kind of twisted screwball could manage to graduate from pharmacy school. Or steal the night manager's keys to Walgreen's and play miserable tricks on the elderly and ill. I mean look at the ass who managed to steal one presidential election, and four years later still manage to dupe poor white people into thinking that they could be in his club too, so you better vote the right way, otherwise those evil God-hating (*gasp*) GAY people are going to come to steal your kids! But that's a whole 'nother entry all its own....

I was thinking today that it's weird that people I will never know will read these things about me, and somewhere they will have my thoughts and my pictures in their minds for a time -- even if it's only a second in passing -- and I will have nothing of them. And I wonder if this is an accurate representation of me. I worry that it's not. I feel like I'm trying my blog on like it's a dress I'm not sure I'll buy, because I'm not sure it's 'me'. So I ask my friends, "Guys, is this me?" As I come out for a twirl.

So guys, is this me?

Can't you hear me, can't you hear me calling your name girl?
In the red... In the rain....