Reawakening.

So, it's been awhile.  Lots has transpired since last time I updated.  Obviously.  The way of the universe is, life goes on, whether you're ready for it or you want it to or not.  The shop is doing well.  I took a 2 1/2 week trip to California to visit friends, which did wonders for body and soul.  I didn't get to see everyone I wanted to see, but I guess that just means I have to go back next year.  I kept a (paper!) journal through the whole trip, and I plan on writing some posts based on those journal entries, very soon.  And you all know that for me, "very soon" can mean tomorrow or next month.

Yesterday, I made amends with a friend I'd been fighting with for the better part of two months.  We got the yuck out of our systems, talked about things like grown-ups, then spent the evening hanging out like no time had passed.  That's the mark of a good friend, dears.  You get the hell over it.  Forgiveness is hard, and forgetting?  Well, forget it.  But moving on is truly where grace lies.

So it's that time of year where enough of it has passed to look back and make broad, sweeping judgments about it.  This was a bad year for friendship, sadly.  A good year for personal growth, but a horrific year for friendship.  I can't hold myself blameless.  My fault mostly lies in the "not just saying what you feel, when you feel it" department, vis a vis my proclivity to befriend people, then help them, and not speak up when the first signs of my good nature being shat upon appear.

That's what it always boils down to in my life, folks taking enormous dumps on my good nature.  It's always the people I try to give a hand up that suddenly decide I'm a heinous bitch for whatever reason.  I don't think I want anyone besides my husband to live with me ever again.  Those are the worst slaps in the face.  I've got two rooms in my home trashed right now because clearly, asking for rent after MONTHS of saying we're having financial issues is just rude, and expecting to use one's own living room before midnight when there's no less than 3 other places in the house to sleep and clearly, headphones do not exist is downright unreasonable. The really shitty thing is, I don't merit talking to about these things.  Nope.  Let's just leave our shit all willy-nilly and fuck off and shit talk the only person who was willing to help in your hour of need.

I'm done with shitty people, y'all.  Just done.  I'm up to something like 6? 8? people that crested the top of my shit list and rolled off the other side in 2011.  Folks I thought were good friends and good people.  Is it just me?  Does this happen to anyone else when you lend someone a hand?  Maybe it's just misdirected stress and anger.  I'm here, and thus, an easy target.  Makes sense, but it doesn't make it right.  I'm kind, and thus, a mark.  THAT is fucked up.

And, to make up for all the shittyness of this post, here is Scotti-cat in a hoodie.

Onwards and upwards. Bigger and better. Good things are coming to me. I can already feel it.

Relative to what? {Facebook Stupid}

I promise that this is to the best of my memory.  



The Exchange:

So, tonight, a friend's status was about a possible 2012 presidential candidate.

First comment is a non-committal agreement.

I was second. I offered up a casual but firm disagreement.

Friend laughingly states a rebuttal.

I state a piece of information that supports my previous disagreement.

Friend concedes the point, as my information was factual, but states another reason she likes said candidate, a sound bite of rhetoric that's exited the blowhole of every presidential candidate since I started paying attention in the year 2000.

A man, likely an older relative, made a rude statement, calling me ignorant for not sharing his political beliefs. It was deceptively kindly worded, so as to trick the reader into not realizing they'd been insulted.

I replied that Friend's reason was something stated in every election cycle, and then that Relative ought not call strangers ignorant. That it was rude, and did not look good on him.

Friend deletes my comment.

I reply "You deleted my comment? Coward. Enjoy your brainwashing." then unfriended her.

I understand that it's awkward as hell when friends and family clash on Facebook. My personal policy has always been to watch the discussion, whether I participate or not, for anyone being rude and/or unfair. If things got out of hand, I'd delete the status, but I've never had to do this. A different former friend of mine called one of my family members out on a homophobic statement. In fact, on a completely different post, 5 of my friends called out a family member for homophobia. There have been some heated debates, but everyone on my friends list has played (mostly) fair so far. In fact, I've even directed friends/family to rude comments made on my status, just because I knew they'd have something hilarious or awesome to say about it. I don't expect everyone I know to agree on all subjects at all times. It's not possible to not discuss politics so I dive right in, for the most part.  I feel that people should be free to openly disagree with one another. The vast majority of my friends are smart, witty, and opinionated. These are traits I adore in my loved ones. The prevailing unspoken code seems to be one of respect.

A person who feels it's ok for a relative to insult a friend for no good reason, then cosign that bullshit is not a friend. I don't care how "respected" this person is, or how old, I'm not going to just accept their insults. Just...no. I'm an adult. Your relative? I wouldn't know them if they kicked me in the ass. There's a tiny-ass picture and a name. Respect is earned. And if you don't instigate drama, there's no reason to feel badly about calling out an insult. Period. Some people are bullies. Some of them don't know any other way to be, so they get old, bitter, and hateful. Shit happens. I'm too old myself to tolerate a bully, or to silently acquiesce.

So tell me, ye who do not suck, what is your policy on friend vs. family verbal projectiles on Facebook? No seriously. Write it in the comments, anon if you don't feel like registering/signing in/having your name associated with your feelings on the subject. Even if all you have to say is "ignore it." I want as many opinions as possible on this.

Kthanx.

ps - Yeah, fighting on the internet, stupid, whatevs. Humor me.

Heads up

Heh.  I'm punny.  So, fellow migraine sufferers!  I bring good tidings of my personal favorite instant relief strategies!  Things besides pills (sweet, glorious pills!) that I've tried that have worked.  This is my good deed for the month, so no, I will not help you move!

Massage:  God yes.  Get the blood moving, stat.

• Professional -- AMAZING.  I recently posted about it in detail, so I won't go through it all again.  Basically, this is what I'd do every single time I had a headache if money weren't an object and there were massage establishments open 24/7 that didn't offer a happy ending.
• Partner or Friend -- The next best thing, if they know what they're doing.  I'm lucky, because my husband has a very respectable body of knowledge about the bones, muscles, and tendons due to his martial arts background and general smartness.  When I realize I have any sort of headache coming on, I have him rub the muscle between the thumb and forefinger on both hands, my neck, the back of my head, then my forehead, temples, and under my eyes (especially if it's a sinus-related headache.)  He usually rubs my jaw, too, since I have TMJ.  If I'm hurting, the muscles are probably already starting to tense up, so why not stop it before it starts?
• Self  --  You gotta do what you gotta do.  I do pretty much everything B does, except with a lovely dollop of Badger Headache Soother.  Here's the deal.  Yes, it is going to leave a greasy film on your skin (and hair, if you rub the back of your head), however, it's worth it.  It's got a blend of essential oils that help relieve some of the pain.  It also acts like a massage oil that stays in place so you can rub the areas where it was applied as needed.  So what if you look like a shiny raccoon for a few hours, you have a friggin' migraine and anyone who expects you to prioritize appearance while you have a migraine has clearly never had one.  

 
Other helpful things:  Any port in a storm, right?

• Ice -- I keep at least 4 gel ice packs in my freezer at all times.  3 small, 1 large.  I usually start with the ice pack at the base of my skull, then once it's warmed up, I start alternating it to my forehead, and if I'm feeling extra pitiful, I whine for B to get me a second ice pack and basically ice my entire brain case.  While it doesn't make the headache go away, it sure as hell feels good and makes me hate everything less.
• Heat -- My amazing sister-in-law, Roberta, got B and I two Bed Buddies for Christmas this past year.  While heat isn't my favorite thing for a standard migraine, it's the gold standard for anything sinus related, or for headaches due to muscle tension or misalignment of the upper vertebrae.  They're also amazing on your lower back after a long day of sledding.  :)
• Freezer Pops --  Yep, the ones that are basically Kool-Aid in a plastic tube.  They're a good way to cool off and get/stay hydrated without chugging a bunch of water.  Usually, if I'm thirsty during a headache, I am ultra-mega thirsty, and I will absolutely flood myself with water and/or a caffeinated beverage to the point where my nausea is triggered, which only compounds my misery.
• Peppermint Oil --  My massage therapist put peppermint oil on my face, scalp, and neck before beginning my massage, and I was out of pain in under 5 minutes.  I just bought some on ebay today.  'Nuff said.
• Cat --  Properly applied to the back of the head and neck, a well-placed cat is the perfect level of softness, warmth, and vibration if you scratch his head and make him purr.  Behold!

• Dare I say *gasp!* THE REEFER? -- Take your opinion of marijuana as a deadly, dangerous illegal drug and set it aside for a moment.  It has analgesic and anti-emetic properties.  It also relaxes the mind and body, which helps alleviate pain and reduce stress in its own right.  The only time I'd say smoking to help a migraine is contraindicated is when you have a sinus or vascular migraine.  So yes, I am a firm believer in medical use, aaaand I'm not going to say any more on that topic. 
  
  
  

Headaches, especially migraines, SUCK.  And while I'm all for the pill-popping, having a few tricks up your sleeve for instant relief will not only make you hate everyone and everything less until your pills kick in, it can actually halt the increase in pain or even decrease the pain.  So, here's hoping you don't need any of this information any time soon, just that you'll remember the next time you do.


Ritual Legal Climbdown:  I am not a doctor or any person who has any business whatsoever giving medical advice.  Listen to me at your own risk.  If dissatisfied with the advice contained herein, a full refund will be issued. 

You don't have to go home but you can't stay here

Well, as was made perfectly obvious in my last post, I've indulged myself in a bit of a pity party over the past few days.  Call it reality catching up to me or PMS or whatever the hell you want, it's been rough.  I don't like getting stuck in The Bad Place, but I certainly have no intention of punishing myself for going there and getting it out of my system.  After so many days of pain and exhaustion, it's really pretty normal.

And I try not to take my own bad moods and feelings too seriously.  I've been posting statuses on facebook like "Quick, somebody call the wahhhmbulance, I need a trip to the bawwwwspital." and "Oh my god. If these inconsiderate assbutts don't stop playing the bass in their car so low that it's rattling my BRICK house and making my head hurt worse, I will simply lose my shit and go out there with a spatula and an egg beater and whomp them like their mamas should have."  If anything's going to make the rest of my life bearable, it's retaining my sense of humor.  


I didn't make it to my brother and sis-in-law's this weekend.  My Chronic Fatigue decided to show its ass.  Boo.  I went on an 18-out of-24 hours sleeping jag, and I think today might be the first time I've really woken up since.  I really wanted to see everybody, especially my aunt Linda, but between how shitty I felt mentally AND physically, I would have been a total drag anyway.  

I did get to go see my therapist on Friday, which was definitely a good thing.  It was very cathartic, at least.  I think the most important thing I got out of it was that I need to take my friends and family at face value when they say they aren't angry and that they do understand when I have to flake.  I think I'm just so accustomed to thinking of myself as a slacker and a flake that I can't possibly see how folks wouldn't be mad, or at the very least, hella irritated with me when I can't do the things I want to do or say I'm going to do.  I set up some pretty destructive thought patterns during the years that I kept my pain to myself.  I have to break them or I'll be a miserable old coot well before my time.  He also says I'm not allowed to hole up by myself for extended periods of time until the mental ship rights itself.  Hissss.


There's some definite bright spots, though.  I did go get a massage like I threatened to in Tuesday's post.  I found a really amazing therapist.  I got there and filled out all the paperwork, then told Ari I was on day 8 of a come-and-go migraine.  He did some sort of wizardry with peppermint oil and face/scalp/neck massage, and I was out of pain in the first 5 minutes.  I wish I could say I got to just relax for the other 55 minutes, but he gave me the most thorough neck and shoulder massage I've ever had, some serious deep tissue shit.  It hurt like hell, especially when he'd hit trigger points (which he then attacked vigorously), but HOLY CRAP, that man is magic, and I felt well enough afterwards to go to Jeff's birthday dinner.  Two hours late, but I wouldn't have been able to show up at all had I not gotten some substantial relief.  I stuffed my face on Eggplant Parmesan and Lemon Buttercream cupcakes.  Jenny, Jenny, is there nothing you can't do?  It was a really chill gathering with awesome people.  I hissed a bit at the fact that I couldn't try the sexy-looking sangria, but them's the breaks.  I'd rather have the level of pain control I have now than revert to alcohol as self-medication, that's for damn sure.


Today's agenda?  THE SPRINGS.  And Fatkini Alchemy.  Mix two way-too-small triangle tops, some thread and ribbon, and maybe come out of it with a triangle top that will make sure I retain what dignity I have remaining.  XD  Can't wait.


Before I go put on my wizard's hat, I want to thank everyone for all the kind words and encouragement recently.  I do know that I'm loved and that people think I'm awesome, I just tend to lose sight of that when I get my head stuck up my own ass, because it's awfully dark up there.  I also want to say that we have our first reader submission on Fatkini Riot!  Go check out the hotness!!!

Bad poetry--skip at will.

careful, now, love
i'm only going to let you down
we'll dream the grandest dreams
we'll take the first steps
i'll fall and i'll fail and you'll try to hide your disappointment in the recovery room

my shell is solid,
but oh, how it creaks against the waves
of duty and of play
i'll wait here in the sand for you
i'll wait in the softness, in the water, in the place where i feel no pain

and please, if you must, go on without me
i can't expect all to be sacrificed at the alter of my infirmity
nothing would thrill me more than to join you
but my shell, it creaks and splinters
and i won't ask you to carry me

On yelling.

Contrary to popular belief, I hate yelling.  More specifically, I hate being the one that has to do the yelling.  I used to be a big fan of yelling, back when I drank like a fish and couldn't see what a fucking train wreck I was turning into.  But now, thanks to quitting drinking, therapy, and medication, I just...don't yell.

But goddammit if two people haven't pushed me to the point of yelling this month.  And not even a shouted sentence or two, a full-on, lung-bending, blood-boiling, black-out RANT.  I don't even know what the fuck is going on with the universe right now.  This month alone, I've had to cut four people out of my life.  I'm not as into astrology as I used to be.  Are we under the star of douchebaggery or something right now?

Only one of these losses truly makes me sad.  That would be my surrogate mother-in-law, who reacted to my olive branch by alienating me in cliche form.  Yeah, the same one I wrote a love letter about a couple weeks ago.  Chosen family is only family until you're under the influence of a lie, then they're disposable family.  Oh well.  A new alpha fag has been chosen, and a new surrogate mother-in-law will come in time.

I hate that I feel such a strong need to have that sort of a relationship with someone in my life at all times.  At 30, I still don't feel like much of a grown-up.  Adult matters make me feel like Bambi on wobbly legs.  I don't need someone to baby me or to do things for me, I just want someone who's been doing this grown-up thing for awhile to be my friend and well...I guess a mentor, of sorts.

But back to yelling.  It sucks.  It makes my head hurt.  The adrenaline rush usually renders me useless for 5-10 minutes, then once it dies down, thus begins the withdrawal migraine.  I yelled last night and actually woke up with a sore throat today.  WTF?  But physical shit aside, it's just so unseemly.  It shouldn't be necessary, ever, but sadly, it is. 

I guess I should just be grateful that I've ceased being a doormat, and that I'll actually stand up for myself now.  That's major progress.  I suppose this is the inevitable backlash, though--after spending so many years of running from conflict or just trying to smooth things over, I suppose it's only natural that upon waking up, I come out roaring.



p.s.  I have a new fatkini!  Springs trip tomorrow--hopefully I'll have some pics then!

Foolishness.

I had a fantastic weekend, which I'll post about later when I'm in a better headspace.

I got home without being jinxed or cursed or murdered by my car, so that was cool.  Then today, a steaming pile of drama hit, completely undoing my weekend zen.  RUDE.

After so many abuses of my good nature, though, all I can do is cut ties and walk away, for now at least.  I sincerely hope this isn't a permanent thing, but I'm not holding my breath.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and never, ever mistake kindness for weakness.

Ugh.  I'm cried out.  I need sleep.

Doggie Auntie

Steve and I were talking about our animals earlier this week, and I mentioned that I'd love to have a dog, but that I can't count on myself to be in good enough shape at all times to properly care for a dog.  I adore dogs, all dogs, but I have to be able to give them back.  He had the idea of bringing Hercules, his Westie-Chihuahua mix, aka one of the most mellow, well-behaved dogs I've ever encountered, over here a couple times a week while he's at work.  Hercules and I know each other very well.  We're total homies.  And honestly?  Getting out, moving around, getting some Vitamin D via sunlight sounds pretty damn good today.  I'm thinking booty shorts and a tube top to annoy the uptight neighbors.

Here is our day so far:

"Aunt Julie, what are you doing?  I am a dog, not a football."

"I have a new toy and a snack because I was a good boy on my walk.  

NOW WHO'S THE MACK DADDY?"

I am pleased to report that Hercules and I both survived the day intact.  I couldn't find any of my tube tops, so I had to suffice with a tank top and shorts.  Heaven forbid!  We had a slight run-in with a beagle when we went for a walk.  The beagle came running up to him, and knowing Herc's history with other dogs, I immediately scooped him up like a football.  Exchanged pleasantries with the beagle's owner, and off we went.  He was completely pooped when we got back, and spent the rest of the afternoon being lazy on the couch.  I felt he was on to something, and joined him in that.  

The only sucktastic thing to report is that my back now freaks the fuck out if I just walk around the block.  I don't get it and it's fucking rude.  I've been doing so well lately.  It might have been a shoe issue.  I'm limited to two pairs for flats until my kitty tattoo heals, and both of them may as well be made out of cardboard and vinyl.  No support whatsoever.  I think I'm going to start taking walks to the park.  I can sit down, stretch, and rest for a few minutes in the park before I head back.  I can't wait until it's warm enough to swim again.  I feel like a nice float in a cold spring would make my back feel immensely better.

Well, I should be in bed...

I'm supposed to be on the road to Tallahassee by 10am with Jenny, Jeff, and Brandell.  I'm definitely better than yesterday, but I still feel like I was beaten by a bag full of hammers.  TJ left to go back to Denver today.  I spent a good chunk of my afternoon speed-crocheting a dice bag for him.  Steve came over for a few minutes.  The day was pretty chill, but I have no idea where it went and I don't feel rested at all.

So why the hell am I even considering this trip to Tallahassee?  New Leaf Market, my dears.  It's literally the closest thing, both in distance and in concept, that we have to a Whole Foods around here.  And while B and I aren't afraid of trans fats and yellow #5, we dig the meat selection there (all the normal critters, plus lamb, goat, bison, venison, rabbit...the list goes on) and all the fancy cheese.  Food snobbery and being a fatty tend to go hand in hand.  We've made the agreement that we're going to choose things that don't take long to prep or cook.  We spend way too much money eating out, and hope to rectify that.

I also want to pick up a few home remedies for fever blisters.  I was born a carrier because my mom has 'em.  I had my first one at 16, and this, my darlings, marks #2.  Yes.  Less than a week until my 30th birthday.  I'm going to turn 30 with some shit on my lip that's got some shit on its lip.  RUDE.  I've been running damage control with medicated Chap-Stick, and so far, that's kept it at bay.  Thankfully, I have propolis on hand, which is a natural, bee-produced anti-viral, anti-bacterial, anti-fungal WONDER SUBSTANCE.  Seriously, that shit took care of an abscessed tooth at one point.  Lysine and licorice powder are also on my to-buy list.  FULL ON ASSAULT.

So I'm going to just...shut up and go.  I have a Monster Java in the fridge, and Brandell's word that he'll drive on the way back, so I can totally do this.  It's making me rethink other things I've committed to over the next week or so and wonder--is this really the best use of my spoons?  Well, what the fuck else would I use them for?  But that?  Really?  Sigh.  I'll strike a balance one day.  Until then, I'll do my damnedest not to over commit myself, and drive that lesson home by making myself keep the commitments I make when humanly possible.

I guess the fever blister really drives home the point of my current stress levels.  The last time I got one, it was one of those worst case scenario times...for a 16 year old, at least.  I guess I'm a bit more frazzled than I'd like to admit.  Lately, I haven't even wanted to bother calling bullshit on scenarios when it's greatly deserved, which is highly out of character for me.  I've forgiven when I probably should have stuck to the promise I made to myself.  I've taken a deep breath and let some dumb shit go.  These are all probably things I should have been doing all along.  The only problem is, when I don't speak up, I internalize shit and stew about it.  I have an incredibly hard time truly just letting shit go.  It burns a fucking hole in my gut until enough time has passed for me to lose some of my give-a-damn.  It can be hours, it can be years.  And don't tell me to journal that shit, because it would all go right here (pen and paper writing, at least in the quantity that would take for me to purge this foolishness, is hell on my hands) and I would lose friends and alienate people.  The fucking quandary of the thinking woman, I suppose.  It's a shame people don't respond well when you grab them by the face, stare into their eyes, and say "YOU ARE BEING STUPID".

Aaaand cue my back hurting like hell again.  O hai, PMS.  Joyyyyy.

/Negative Nancy

The Rise and Fall of One Magnificent Weekend

Now that I've become conscious of what's going on with my body, I'm learning pretty quickly that there's two sides to this coin of feeling better.  I decided to have my birthday party a week early this year.  My dear friend TJ came to town this week, and since I'm going to be out of town on my actual birthday, why not rally the troops to hang with TJ and to celebrate me getting hella old?

So, me and 12 of my nearest and dearest got together Saturday night.  Since I can't drink due to my meds and I'm slightly bitter about that, the party was BYOB.  Thankfully, if I take all my meds together, it's like taking a trip without leaving the farm, so I was a good little patient.  My husband grilled hot dogs (and veggie dogs) and Kristin brought potato salad and her AMAZING olive dip--seriously, the stuff is THE BEST EVER and if you eat enough, you smell like a salami the next day the first time you sweat.  God, I love garlic.  Pretty simple spread that required very few spoons to get together.  I even bought my cake, which would have been unheard of previously.  So glad I did though--Publix Bakery makes a damn fine Caramel Pecan Crunch cake.  Leftovers?  There are none. 

I'd had some fancy-pants party outfit planned, but I wound up staying in my t-shirt and cut-off shorts.  I dunno, I guess my priorities are slowly but surely rearranging themselves.  I wanted to be comfortable and have fun with my friends and not have to act ladylike in the least. 

And the guest list--oh good god, some of the finest human beings I know.  Brandell and myself, OF COURSE, and TJ, who lives in Denver and we get to see him maybe once or twice a year, Jenny and Jeff, who brought Rock Band and always make for a lively gathering, Eric, the fantastically hilarious artist who I hadn't seen since training class at the failed experiment which was my employment at Convergys, MY GREGGIE PIE, who's been my BFF since age 12, drove up from Jacksonville.  I spent a good portion of my night attached at the hip to Greggie, including making Two-Headed Snuggie Monster while watching Gorillaz: Demon Days Live at the end of the night.  And of course, Jared and Steve and Scott and Samantha and Kristin and all those fantastic people who make my world go 'round.  Try to show me a finer group of human beings and I'll call you a goddamn liar.  I'm so grateful to have all of these people in my life, and to have them all show up to celebrate with the old gimp who's politicking on the alcohol?  I feel loved.  <3

So, we stuffed our faces and played some Rock Band, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't indulge in a bit of herbal refreshment.  Hey, if this were California, I'd be prescribed it by my doctor to help mitigate my pain, so why the hell not, especially on a night when pain is the last thing I need.  And god, that was good times too.  There's something magical about the campfire circle, how it can take a group of people who don't know each other and turn them into friends by the time the joint's out.  Especially those moments when everyone is quiet and you look at the faces of those around you and think of how lucky you are to be surrounded by these people, folks who probably never would have come together were it not for that one common interest.

And since I wasn't drunk at the end of the night, Brandell and I got all the food put away and the house mostly restored to its pre-party state.  I crawled into the bed and was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.

Yesterday morning, the other side of that coin came down HARD.  The grocery shopping trip/Kohl's run (because TJ needed a party outfit, ain't that sweet), what little party prep there was, plus being all over the place all night, sitting in uncomfortable positions, and generally acting the fool took its toll on me.  My back was screaming.  Muscle cramps and spasms that reached into my lower abdomen and hips.  I spent most of the day trying to find a comfy place to sit.  Couches?  Fail.  Comfy computer chair that ALWAYS helps my back?  Well, I found the exception to that rule.  I think the most comfortable place I wound up was sitting on the edge of my bed, a pillow behind me, leaned up against the wall.  Thus, I spent a good chunk of yesterday after Greggie left in my room crocheting.  Not a bad deal, if you ask me.  Still, the pain was nearly unbearable, even with all of my meds.  And...I just had to deal.  I distracted myself as best I could.  More importantly, I accepted that after a big, busy, active day, this will likely be the fallout. 

So, lesson learned.  Go on, have fun with your friends.  Do the things that you want to do.  But don't overestimate your spoon count.  Schedule relaxation time, and if you can't schedule it, take it anyway.  People will understand or they won't.  It's that simple.  I feel incredibly lucky that I do have so many understanding, supportive people in my life.  Anything that enhances my gratitude for what I do have and the things that are going right can't be entirely bad, now can it?