Rage.

I am enraged, this fucking fiery oblivion, this hatred, I feel enveloped by it. I feel I have no control. I do not believe there are actively suicidal desires, only passive thoughts and urges. I am cutting far too often now, something that I have not done in years. It seems to be every fifteen minutes, at least. I had to stay my hand earlier, as I was uncertain I could stop the bleeding. I know how to suture a wound, so there is no issue there, but still...my own sudden obsession worries me.

This happened before, a few months ago, but not with the same intensity in cutting. And somehow, we must still arrive for work tomorrow. It is warmer outside, and again we will be on the pan-deck. There are no excuses for long-sleeves this week.

I am lost, overwhelmed. This vile and loathsome existence does not suit me. Someone suggested a website with games with which to keep myself occupied. Another suggested speaking online via Messanger. Of course, I am grateful for the suggestions. I will even employ them soon. However, I am still tense. I need to use my body to alleviate this pent-up rage. I need to run, to scream, to flail madly until I collapse. And I cannot.

How I wish I could retreat, at the same time. How I wish I could step away, to collect my thoughts and calm myself. For fuck's sake, I hate this.

Fuck it.

No more charades. I have seemingly lost control. This is not something I wish to delve into, and so I shall leave it at that. I need help. I am not certain I care at the moment. Lost, I still feel lost. Hopelessly lost. I need ideas. I feel unsafe at the moment, and I have tried several things that have backfired violently. Nothing seems to help; I lash out at friends, I bury myself in self-destructive behaviors. Something is amiss.

Hating it.

I have really tried...the appointment was horrendous--as they always
are--and again, I was put in the position to deal with it. It was what
was expected, anyway. I have been avoiding it, really, but time wears on me, and I feel as if I am wandering. Cold, dark. Ilanen.

The doctor...he had an excellent bedside manner, however. He actually reviewed our chart, and I did as best as I was able to be truthful. We discussed the prior miscarriages, and abuse history. He was rather understanding of that and I must say, it was a better exam because of it.

He gave us a plethora of lab tests to see if there is a clotting problem, as apparently that can cause miscarriages. It seemed prudent to comply, as both the sister and mother have forms of von Willebrand's disease, which is a bleeding disorder.

And again, I am avoiding the real subject at hand. No matter. It is best left alone, for now.

Loss in control.

For no discernable reason today, I cut. Deeply. It had been so long. I tried to stay clean, as it were, it was keeping me on-edge. I have been a veritable asshole for far too long.

And so, I wound up cutting the fingers and forearm with twine. It can cut through conduit, and yes, apparently flesh, as well. I despair for the fact that I felt so out-of-control that I resorted to something like that, but I feel I had little choice. At first I was certain it would not work...there is definitely a process and technique involved. Conditions are poor at the moment, and Friday will prove to be unbearable, I am certain. It is best to let my wrath go in portions now, so there is less damage to deal with later.

Pettiness, here, I assure you.

I have always preferred Pepsi to Coca-Cola, and I have never been one to enjoy the taste of a diet soda. (I can tolerate Pepsi One, as it does not taste quite so vile.) However, I went to the soda machine this morning, unlocked it, and I found nothing save Diet Coke. I had made a point to persuade the Host to go grocery shopping yesterday, as she always puts it off until the last minute, and no!--the slothful lay-about decided instead to waste precious time doing God only knows. So now I have a choice between diet soda, unsweetened cranberry juice, or water. None are really desirable.

I have been rather busy as of late; issues with therapy, really, and new ones who were Away or hiding for the last few years. I am trying to help them re-assimilate into the Collective, but it has been quite awhile since there has been any semblance of calm within. I am scarcely certain what to do with myself in the meantime. They say I am in battle-mode, even still, and therefore unable to relax.

Speaking of which...so much of my web-site is woefully obsolete. I need to update it, and I have no time in which to do so. Half of the information is incorrect, or missing all-together. It irks me.

Joys of apprenticeship.

Quite a few things, really...

We took a test on series-parallel circuits in school. For some bizarre reason, we scored a 92%, even though the two previous exams we scored rather low. More studying would behoove us, perhaps. For me, I can understand the mathematical applications for direct-current theory, however I seem to have a difficult time knowing exactly which formulas to use, and when. I know it will only become more difficult next year; right now, we only have wattage, voltage, amperage and resistance with which to work. Next year, inductance, frequency, reactance, and a plethora of other variables will be added. We have never been very eager to study, and that is a shame, as it is becoming more and more necessary.

And yet, when will we have the time? As of now, we are working unbelievable hours. Aside from that, we have our mandatory classes; wireman classes, of course, but then the required extra-curricular classes as well: welding, hoisting and rigging, H.E.E.A.T., fire alarm...just to name a few. Sometimes I believe the apprenticeship is designed much like military basic training. The apprentice is meant to be broken, and built back up to a competent, qualified journeyman. And as it stands, we have four more years of this.

I do believe it is well-worth it, however...we need only to make the best of it.

Asche.

Nicholas is asleep again. He did what he came to do. And James…an enigma, really. I hesitate in speaking of him now. Either way, he wishes to remain hidden, and I will honor that. Asche often keeps vigil over them. I hope to speak with her more often now, as she has made herself more available to us. I have not seen her in years, and before I never got a chance to know her well. Siroun knows her a bit, and Rhiannon knew her well. Perhaps Asche will give me the same courtesy.

Losing patience.

Today the Host finally made her appointment to see a gynecologist. I nearly had to force her. I threatened to tell the parents of the miscarriage, knowing they would force her to go…it was then she relented. It will be Friday, 26 April.

In therapy, there have been some revelations that the Host has been unwilling to accept. These revelations are not new to her, per se…it is only that now, we have tried convincing her that these "dreams" and "visions" are really recollections. She is in such denial she will not even dare speak of it aloud. I have tried speaking to her about it; I have even thought of letting James speak to her, or Nicholas…though I think that may be too much. Bekah, perhaps. Bekah would have likely put things in a perspective that would be gentler.

The thing that aggravates me is this…she does not want to believe me. I have never really given her any reason to doubt me. What would be my reasoning in lying? When I asked her if she would rather speak to one of the others, she declined. I think she knows really…I think she knows and simply does not want to face it. I can understand that, but it is time. She cannot hide forever. How I would love to, but I cannot, and neither can she. I can shield her from only so much.

Well-timed illness.

Easter was yesterday. We were extremely ill. I am relieved, actually, Easter is so very difficult. Rather than being forced to deal with recalling events of the past, we slept in a Nyquil-induced daze…the timing was impeccable. The only thing we regretted was the missed time with family. We so rarely see them; really, something should be done about that.

Perhaps more of an on-going celebration.

Again this anniversary…all week they have been celebrating, buying small gifts for one another. Today they began with visiting the annual county fair in Logandale, nearly an hour’s drive away from Las Vegas, and tonight they really went "all-out" and had dinner at The Red Square, a very high-end Russian restaurant at Mandalay Bay.

The drive was nice…we felt the onset of a cold, I believe, with a touch of fatigue and a sore throat, but it was minor. Logandale is beautiful. It is a farming community, and the crops and bales of hay were seen throughout the fields. We saw horses and cows, which excited Molly to no end…she wanted to stop to pet them, and even shouted "moo" at a few of them. It looked idyllic, the small homes and large rolling meadows. The fair itself was as most fairs are: funnel cakes, nachos, cotton candy, midway games, oversized plush prizes, centrifugal rides and of course, the Ferris Wheel. It was rather fun…there was also a rodeo, but we had to leave before it started.

The dinner was exquisite. First we had martinis; I chose an espresso martini, with espresso, Bailey’s, Kahlúa, and of course the vodka…something intensely expensive, I am certain. Next, we had an arugula and spinach salad…it was lovely. It was sprinkled with Stilton cheese, candied walnuts, sliced pears and an apple cider vinaigrette. (Stilton cheese is marvelous.) We could not decide on an entrée…there was a beef stroganoff we heard good things about, chicken kiev, linguine with truffle oil, a filet mignon…we chose the chicken kiev, and it was most excellent. Finally we had strawberries Romanov (I am certain I spelled that incorrectly), which consisted of whole strawberries soaked in a sweet liqueur, topped with crème. Of course, by that time we had imbibed quite a lot, and the bill for the Host and her fiancé totaled $140.00 including the tip, so we walked through the casino for a time and peeked in at some of the new shops.

I must say, although I had grown rather weary of being consistently reminded of the anniversary, I did enjoy tonight’s meal immensely. Though, I have always been one to prefer a standard above when it comes to cuisine.

Anniversary.

Today is the eight-year anniversary the Host shares with her fiancé. Eight years…I can scarcely believe it. Most do not even stay married for that amount of time. Since today is Monday, there was no time for a real celebration. Therefore, they spent a quiet night at home with a fondue dinner. It was a cheese fondue, a Dutch cheese I believe, though the name escapes me for the moment. It was served with shrimp and small strips of steak, and a warm baguette. Something interesting and different. I am happy for them, as they suit each other well. It still leaves me with an emptiness, however, in that I will likely never experience such a thing.

Best not to think of such things now.

Slowly, it comes together.

Yesterday was Le Rêve’s topping out party. We worked until eleven o’clock, and then walked to a clearing with quite a spread: ribs, hamburgers, sausages, salads, side dishes, and drinks…a few were disappointed that no alcohol was served. It was raining softly but that was fine; it helped to dissipate the smoke from the barbeques. We waited in line for nearly twenty minutes to receive a commemorative topping out tee-shirt, and then an additional forty minutes for food. I daresay over a thousand were present, plus a few from Steve Wynn’s office joining in the celebration.

Le Rêve is set to open on 29 April 2005. The project is really coming together, and it is riveting to see progress in action. It fascinates me.

A time for rest.

After staying home yesterday to recover from the added side effects of the miscarriage, the body is still rather nauseous, but the pain and bleeding have since subsided. The Host agreed to see a doctor in a few weeks, not only from this episode but because we are already late for our yearly exam, anyway. How I loathe it; yet again, I will be expected to endure it.
Aside from that, I sit here wondering on the origins of "April Fools’ Day". Why would that be glorified? There must be some type of interesting, sordid history behind it. Personally I feel it silly and childish, but then again I am told I have the sense of humor similar to a piece of plywood.