Mood: Improving, although I keep putting off posting.
Music: Staind, For You
Mind: Ready for this incarnation of KatesInk to end

I miss the old incarnation of this Web site. And that's that.

Everything was great. I was getting mad hits, I was writing just because I wanted to, even the archives looked good. And now, I've tucked all that away because I went temporarily insane and thought I'd get my mind off the wedding by coding.

But, see, this is like the fourth time this week I've really just wanted to sit down and Blog about something, and then I think better of it because I don't want to say the wrong thing on a wedding Web site, and in doing so, scare off the #arsclan folks that are coming to the wedding to make Paul happy.

Like tonight. I had to hack my own computer. Literally. I know that sounds crazy, but I've got my mind on the wedding and temporarily forgot the password to my mother's preschool Web site. The site was made during a journalism Web site management class in college, so I inherited the position of webmaster once she bought a domain.

I picked a Really obscure password. It was so obscure I forgot it. And suddenly, a few nights ago, I wasn't going to be satisfied until I'd looked at her site stats, and I couldn't look at her site stats without her password.

As a side note, it's hard to find password crackers on the Internet anymore. They used to be all over the Internet. I thought I was so L33T with my little proggies in my early days of AOL (and even BEFORE I got AOL, when I had a small ISP called GNN). I got a kick out of these programs because they were so CRAZY, with names like PaSsWoRd PhYsHeR and ChAt RoOm BoTz. The latter would allow you to (annoyingly) scroll ASCII art into an AOL chat room. You could kick people out of chat rooms and everything.

So what happened? I thought that was part of the obnoxious fun of being young and turned loose upon AOL -- terrorizing chat rooms and fishing passwords and kicking people. Tee hee. I've come so far.

So I had to get a password fisher tonight. The story is comedy gold, but I'm too tired to tell it. Meh. You can make it up in your head, and it'll be just as funny. I promise.

Mood: Suddenly BAD.
Music: Something BAD.
Mind: BAD BAD BAD.

I just lost my post. It was cute and witty, and now it's gone. Bah.

The point of it was to say I was going to the spa to get my eyebrows waxed, and that everybody needs to send back their reception cards.

Except it SOUNDED good. It was funny. Having your eyebrows waxed isn't funny.

Tea. Give me tea.

Mood: Okay. Back on Zoloft, hope it'll help some. :(
Music: None.
Mind: Eh.

Archive is borked. I'm attempting to get things fixed.

If you see any more problems, let me know.

Mood: Sleepy. Bah.
Music: None. Trying to code.
Mind: Eat-Sleep-Breathe-Dream about wedding stuff.

Well, as you can see, the KateBlog has moved. I even lost the Kate's Ink logo that I'd spent so much time making. I keep telling myself that I'll bring it back after the wedding, but maybe I'll sneak it on here somewhere. That would make me feel better, at least.

I'm attempting to code up something fast to send to the people who are coming in from out of town. This means, of course, that I'm spending lots of time accomplishing very little. I keep getting sidetracked by little things, like, umm, stress.

Example: I have spent SO MUCH TIME on this wedding that I literally wanted to throw this website together in 48 hours. (Of course, I haven't done that.) But to get a lot accomplished fast, while using Paul's computer in the apartment, I resorted to coding the logo in Cool-3D. This took me, umm, 10 minutes. I was happy that I hadn't spent any more time on it than I had.

So I was pretty peeved when Paul posted the link to KatesInk before I was finished with the wedding stuff. I mean, I just wanted a quick site with a lot of information on it. It wasn't supposed to look professional. I'm not a professional. I'm a journalist who happens to know a few HTML codes.

So when Paul told me that an #arsclanner told him the site looked like "ass," I fumed. I KNEW it looked bad. I didn't need anyone else to tell me. The point was that I wanted info. Not graphics. Just info. Bah.

I ended up changing the logo, just to make said #arsclanner happy. So, thanks, thrillho. I didn't even speak to you, and yet I spent 45 minutes on ImageReady today attempting to create a more palatable logo.

Like I said, Bah.

And now I'm off to make more pages. I hate this, and I hate that Paul can't code half the site himself. It makes me grumpy.

Tea. I need tea.

Mood: Kinda depressed, despite my new haircut. :-\
Music: Shakira, Underneath Your Clothes
Mind: Click-click-clickety.

You know, I just had to take a break from watching the news to say something.

I am not crazy for taking Zoloft to fight depression. I think a lot of other people are crazy for not needing something to ease the pain after watching the terrible things on the news.

Ever since I became interested in journalism, I have been a news junkie. I read papers in-hand and on-line. I watch local news, MS-NBC, CNN, FOX News, or whatever I can get my hands on. Stories that interest me prompt me to dig up more information on the Internet.

But ever since I've had a hand in reporting or editing the news, the roles have changed a little bit. Things hit closer to home now. Lives seem more precious and fragile than ever. The news is depressing and morbid. Even the brights aren't bright enough.

Let me give you an example:

This morning, a man was found dead in his home on Mynci street in Frayser, an area of Memphis proper. He was tied up in his bedroom. He had been dead for several days, and his family said they had not heard from him in a week. The police would not say how the man had died, but did say the home had been turned down to a chilly 60 degrees.

I know right away what some of my colleagues would say, because I've heard a lot of heartlessness when it comes to murder, crime and other news. They'd say that people die every day, and that this man was no different from any other John Doe who turns up without a cause of death or any suspects. They'd call it a damn shame, maybe even pity the family of anyone who had to die in such a terrible way.

But there's something else to it. Sometimes it's ephemeral, and I can't really put my finger on it. But I think it's plain and simple compassion for someone like me. Like one of my parents. Like Paul or Matthew or anybody else that I know. Here was a man with a family and a home and a life of his own. And now all that is gone. If that doesn't depress you, you've become very desensitized to human tragedy.

I'll leave you with a second example, also on today's news. Yesterday, the body of an infant was found inside a bookbag in Tom Lee Park on the Mississippi River downtown. Police say they have no leads because so many people were in the park for the Tyson-Lewis fight on Saturday. The baby was found by an older man walking on the banks with his two grandchildren. The medical examiner has been unable to examine the body because of a serious backlog (the problems in the Memphis ME's office are a story of their own). However, the body was so badly decomposed that it is not readily evident the age, sex or cause of death of the child.

I'm telling you ... the news is depressing, and I am doing my best to fight the way it makes me feel. But I think I'm going to feel this way until the day there is an end to the murdered men and decomposed babies.

/me sighs

Mood: Sad for a missing girl named Elizabeth Smart. :(
Music: None
Mind: Aiight, thanks much.

Quickly just wanted to post something that I said about a missing 14-year-old girl named Elizabeth Smart from Utah. I happened upon the AOL message boards, and there was so much CRAP on there that I was sickened. People were cutting down Mormons, dissing her father's businesses. Some said prayers were useless and God didn't care. One sick-o posted a thread called "Seductive Innocence" about how "lucky" the kidnapper was to have the "opportunity" in his hands. (Yes, several AOL members reported him to TOS, and his message was pulled.)

Anyway, this was my response:

Maybe you've just gotten off-track, but I think a lot of people are forgetting the main thing here: There is a lovely, innocent 14-year-old child who is missing.

It doesn't matter what you think of Mormons.
It doesn't matter what you think of her father's businesses.
It doesn't matter whether you think her family is guilty.
It doesn't matter whether you think prayer will help.

What matters is that a young teen girl -- who hasn't had a chance to even discover herself or who she wants to be one day -- is somewhere out there. If she's alive (and there's still hope that she is), she's probably very lost, very alone and very scared.

It's time to quit passing judgment on her family and her religion. If you pray, pray that she is comforted and empowered. If you don't pray, at least send some positive thoughts her direction. Her parents are hurting, her church is hurting, and her extended family is hurting. But probably the person hurting the most is Elizabeth herself. Set aside your differences, and show a little heart.

Mood: Eh. Paul's weekend is ending. :(
Music: Strains of Mall Tycoon
Mind: Okay. No big outbursts.

Well, about three hours ago, Lennox Lewis beat Mike Tyson in the 8th round of the heavyweight championship downtown. This, of course, means nothing to me, because I:
-- (a.) Did not see any of the Hollywood stars in town this weekend;
-- (b.) Boxing is not an extremely exciting spectator sport;
-- (c.) I didn't want to pay the $55 bucks to watch it on Pay-per-view;
-- (d.) I got the recap on news tickers from all the local stations.

I broke down and bought Mall Tycoon tonight, perhaps the first for-self computer purchase I've made in a while. Well, I didn't actually pay for the game to begin with. Matthew did. This is his penance for deciding to move out of the apartment with one day's notice after a mere two weeks of living here.

No, I'm not bitter. I was ready to live away from home at 18, but not everybody is. So I can't hold that against him. Not to mention, I will be able to decorate as I please now, and I have completely reclaimed this apartment as my own. In other words, it doesn't feel so stiflingly small anymore!

I have hung one print in the house and put the bookshelf half-way together. Tomorrow, I get a swivel rocker from my aunt. I will also plant my herbs in my planter tomorrow. I chose spearmint, thyme and oregano. Meh. It was hard to find what I needed, so that'll have to do. I'd like to add lavender at some point in the future, because I saw a special on PBS about making sorbets from peach and lavender buds. How easy I am swayed.

Tonight was made so much better by a small concession stemming from my inherent pickiness. I am especially picky about the herbal teas I consume, and (boy!) do I drink a lot. I've already garnered half a dozen yucky ones in my cabinet, so I was thumbing through a few "leftover" packets that I didn't have enough of to make a pot. Among them was some specialty Canadian maple tea from when I was in Canada.

This was, perhaps, one of the most wonderful greatest yippee-yay finds ever. I am now on the Internet to order more. :)

Paul wants to use his computer, and I guess I better let him. As soon as I order my tea. Tea keeps me sane, and he appreciates anything that ensure I stay on an even keel.

Happy Saturday-night-Sunday-morning!

Mood: Much better. Funny how those things happen.
Music: Staind, For You
Mind: Relaxed.

First of all, I feel much better.

Secondly, I think God led me to a website today that touched me in a very deep way. Here's the link: http://www.geocities.com/athenabink88/Self_Injury.html

I first heard about Self Injury from a friend of mine who is about 18 now. Despite the fact he's a few years younger than me, he's wise beyond his age. He's smart and funny. He's always kind to me. But this friend has struggled with personal problems and family issues for a long time, and he started to dabble in cutting. Since I first heard about it, I've met two other cutters. It's a serious problem, and it's becoming more widespread in my age group -- late teens and early twentysomethings.

I've asked Nicole and Jake, the two people who run the site mentioned above, if they'll talk to me more about it. I prayed earlier for God to put today -- my worst day in months -- into perspective. And this is what I got. Two young people who have struggled with S.I. and lived to tell about it. I want their voice to be heard. I offered to interview them for a story about S.I. I'll offer to host their site here ad-free, if they want or need it. I've just never felt such a strong passion to help people be heard.

Any thoughts, ideas, comments? Drop me a line -- Kate@KatesInk.com

Mood: I hate myself. Can't shake it.
Music: Wheatus, Teenage Dirtbag
Mind: Even the music can't cheer me up.

I hate everything. Absolutely everything.

Nobody asks me about my mood swings. Good thing, too.

Justin had the right idea to stop talking to me when he did. I don't quite know why Paul still bothers with it, except he's also taking antidepressants, and that probably makes it a little easier for him to deal with it. I used to think that Justin was maladjusted because Justin had all the problems at home. Now I realize that he was not only sane, he was wise. He was also a lot like me, which is why I can't talk to him anymore. It all fit in together like a puzzle.

Okay, I'm not making sense. That's okay. Nobody reads this except for Paul and me, so it doesn't really matter. I wouldn't have posted at all, except I don't journal anymore and I've got to say a few things.

First of all, I hate what this wedding has become. It's no longer a wedding. It's frickin Godzilla. Call in the planes and the helicopters, but you still won't be able to salvage the damage. I want it to be over with, because it doesn't matter to me anymore about keeping up appearances. I feel the need to invite a lot of my friends, simply because my mother has invited all of hers. This in itself is silly, but I would much prefer the company of people I like, rather than people I'm supposed to like because my mother does. I want to wear Birkenstocks; she wants ballet slippers. I want flip-flops for the wedding party at the reception; she wants "regular shoes." I want to leave the details up to the experts -- which is why we hired them to begin with; she wants to meet with them all again to finalize those details.

And apparently, I haven't said anything nice to her since I got engaged. That's what she said today. That means I've been rude for almost a year now. A personal record, I guess. Of course, it hasn't made me feel any better. I get along so much better with her when I'm not living with her. This, I assume, is because I don't feel like I have to live up to what she wants me to be for 24 hours a day. I only have to be the person she wants me to be (thinks I should be, etc.) in small doses of a few hours. I'm not saying that I don't love her, because I do. But I'm beginning to feel like she'd prefer to have a clone of herself without all of my issues. She told me yesterday, when I was feeling rather awful anyway, that I was too old to be treating her the way I do when I have mood swings. Of course, if she had asked me what the matter was, I couldn't have told her anyway, because that would have just been one more example of me NOT saying something nice to her.

In short, this has become something I never wanted it to be. I really want to take three or four steps backwards and find out where I went wrong. Oh, yeah, I know. I didn't elope. That's where I went wrong. I traded in my chance to get away from here for the chance to wear a (scratchy, heavy) wedding dress one time. I told you I was crazy.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to go see the endocrinologist. Apparently, Mom thinks it's all my fault that I can't lose weight. You're right. It is all my fault. I'm just probably in denial. I'll take a label for it either way. If I say it's not my fault, then I'm in Self-Denial. If I say it's my fault, then I'm Self-Loathing. Frankly, I don't care what the doctor says anymore. Doctors can take their self-righteous ego and shove it. I'm sick of trying their remedies one after another. It's not like this is serious medication, like chemo or AZT or something, so why am I'm straddling the toilet, throwing up until I see spots before my eyes? And yes, this has happened.

Well, I've reached the point in my rant where I stop fighting and just break down and cry. This occurs when I realize that it's pointless to attempt to change anyone's mind, especially my mother.

In short, I'm miserable. Sometimes I think I'd like to collapse into myself, implode, black hole-style. The closest I can come to that is to get as far away from people -- phone calls, e-mails, visits -- as I possibly can, sink back for a while, read, explore, attempt to better my mind without needless contact with other minds. That sounds far too complicated. The alternative is to sleep a lot, which is also a benefit, because I'm tired all the time and I don't really have to think about how crappy things are going when I'm asleep.

Having said all that, I feel surprisingly normal, especially when compared to a lot of people I know. That's not to say that I AM normal, because I'm NOT in denial of my own neuroses. However, I don't play video games for eight hours a day like Matthew. I don't fail classes simply because I don't care like Paul. I don't think that I'm reincarnated, I don't have hangups about relationships, I don't hate men (or women), I don't feel like life would be complete if I moved away. I just get a little too attached to my music. And sometimes my head hurts so bad that I'm sick to my stomach and it doesn't go away for a day or two. And once in a while, I think my pills don't work as good as they could.

So now, I sign off. This post, this site, are my little secret. I sign off, not feeling any better, go out with Mom and attempt to be civil and wonder how much things would be different if I weren't me. Or if I were me, but better. It's mind-boggling, mind-blowing.

I think I'd like a cup of tea.

Mood: Tee-hee. Don't ask.
Music: Ani Difranco's As Is, from Little Plastic Castles
Mind: Lost it.

Well, my mother and my grandmother came over for a visit at the apartment today.

With 5 minutes of notice.

I have never so quickly in my entire life managed to throw dirty clothes into the closet, make the bed, wipe up the kitchen, hide anything I wouldn't want them to see, etc. etc. I won't go into great detail here, because I have some fear that they'll log on and read this. But I was kicking stuff under the bed even as they were walking into the room.

Rather intrusive, no? Paul reiterated this was the reason that the keys never leave the hands of the three of us -- myself, Paul and Matthew. Otherwise, we'd all go crazy.

I did manage to overlook two details. On the counter, I left the boys' Diablo II CD. My grandmother asked me what it was, and my mother said it looked scary. I nonchalantly told them it was a video game and changed the subject. I'm good at changing the subject. After all, I'm a journalist, right? The other thing I left out was my Death: The High Cost of Living candle. It's pretty, but also pretty gothic. I don't think they'd understand the significance of it, other than to think it was bad.

In other news, I'm starting to address invites for the wedding. I couldn't be more happy about the ArsClan turnout that's going to be there. TheZy and his wife are coming, as are Ronin and his wife. Among the singletons are Phrag, Einvigi, MrD (and date?), Fuzz and ZenWolf. I'm also thinking about inviting Rompbot because I kind of miss talking to him. However, I know he won't come. Meh.

Speaking of ArsClan, I had nothing better to do than read the forums today. I ended up in the Velvet Room, which should actually be subtitled "Too Much Information." The Velvet Room ("Too Much Information") really has no place on the OpenForum, but there was nothing going on in the Lounge or Gaming, Extra Strength Caplets, so I relented.

The thread:...

Yech. I'm so Normal.