Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

I'm back at square one, with nobody knowing what is wrong with me, and therefore unable to help. I've been put on amitriptyline to help me get some rest at night; unfortunately, it is making me groggy during the day as well. I'm being referred to an ENT specialist, a back specialist, and possibly another neurologist because the first one was - I don't even have words for what he was.

The possibility of my going back to work on modified hours is now looming over me, and I am actually happy about it for the most part. Mentally I need this. I need not only to have something new and outside of myself to focus on, but I need to feel useful. I need to contribute. I'm not the type that likes to sit at home and feel sorry for myself. I am frustrated, yes. I am exasperated, yes. I have been doing my utmost to refrain from complaints because, frankly, complaints aren't worth anybody's time. And they don't get you very far. There are people out there in much greater need of help than I am - I am not so self-centered as to believe the world must spin around me and my worries. Whether I am physically ready for this is another story altogether, but I am nothing if not tough.

In the meantime, the bellows of my lungs continue to pump air through my body, although sometimes they falter. The little muscles and valves in my heart click and pull and do the job they are meant to do, pumping life through me, again only pausing for a break now and again. I keep convincing myself that one day I will wake up, fully functioning, and looking at this as some horrific dream. And every morning, I trick myself into it, until little by little it all comes crashing down. All the king's horses...

Much as I love CSI, I have to admit that the recent news of Billy Peterson leaving the show makes me feel as though anything they do afterward would be a magnificent shark jump. I didn't care much when Jorja Fox decided to jump ship a while back, knowing that eventually they would pull her back in. I admit that I was pretty upset to learn that Gary Dourdan was leaving the show, but not surprised.

But how do you replace such a pivotal character as Gil Grissom? (It pains me to link to wikipedia in any shape or form, but that's a pretty comprehensive description of the character, so I suppose it can stay). Based on this report, it appears as though CBS is trying to court a 'big name' to bring the fans around (Larry Fishburne? Kurt Russell? John Malkovich? I'm glad there was a scheduling conflict to take Malkovich out of the running, because, um, ewwww there's no way), but I think that it will be a tough act to follow. I am pleased that the rest of the original cast is remaining, but Grissom leaving is taking a big chunk out of the heart of the show.

That being said I am still willing to give the show the benefit of the doubt, but I have a feeling this upcoming ninth season may just be their last.

As for recent medical insanity, I'm still not up to talking about it. Sorry.

I don't know what to do with K anymore. Third note home since November 5th with regards to his being rough and picking on, of all people, his best friend. All three incidents involved his friend, all three incidents he "said he was sorry" and had to go to the principal. I have no fucking idea what to do with him as our typical punishments don't seem to be getting through.

What really makes me irate is that just this morning, he and I had a long talk about his behavior and he PROMISED he would behave. Promised me like there was no tomorrow. So imagine my surprise when I find at the bottom of his school bag (which was soaking wet for the third time in a row because yet again, he didn't put his water bottle in his lunch bag and also left the damn bottle open) another note from his teacher explaining that, yet again, he has done something not very nice to his friend. This time around he threw snow down his friend's coat and hat. Last time he had pushed his friend into a block of ice. The time before, oh god I can't even remember.

I was so mad I was crying. I'm at my wit's end and have no idea how to get it through to him, that if he continues to behave this way, a few not so nice things will happen. First he will lose every last one of his friends. Nobody likes a bully. Second, he'll probably get suspended or expelled. Thirdly... I don't even want to think about it. The path he is walking is not a good one. And it just kills me because he is such a good boy, deep down, and has such a good heart, and I don't know where all of this aggression is coming from. He says he just can't control himself sometimes and this is what he does to let out whatever is in him. I say he needs to learn and real damn quick son because: my wit's end? Yeah. I'm there.

So I'm at a point where, do I do the thing I really don't want to do, and not give him the main thing he really wants for Christmas, to teach him something? Or do I try and figure out something else? My dad would say just tan his hide until he can't sit for a week, and while in a way I'm tempted, it would just be sending the kid the worst kind of mixed message.

I don't know. And I'm so upset, and I'm embarrassed because I really like the family of his friend, and there are only so many phone calls I can make to apologise before even I don't want to hear it anymore. What do I do? I don't know. I don't know. The only thing I can do right now is cry. I'm so frustrated.

Almost done the Poitier memoir. It's brilliant and makes me feel like I'm having a conversation with him. Or maybe even my Dad. The parallels between their lives is almost spooky in some ways.

Do you know what chore I hate more than any other? The number one thing I wish I could never do again? Dishes. That's right. I'd rather scrub at a dirty bathtub for a month of Sundays than scrub at dishes.

So needless to say it drives me batty when my family seem to have started a silent war against my sanity by using every god damned dish in the house to make a peanut butter sandwich. Sweet baby Jesus that drives me nuts. You can tell how nuts it drives me by the number of blasphemies I utter.

Also needless to say, but I'm saying it damnit, I really really hate it when S brings home dishes from work and doesn't rinse them out or anything - just leaves it on the counter, lid on, or sometimes leaves it in his lunchbag for a day or two so that the mold has time to set in. Uggggh. God I hate that.

I'm really looking forward to the trip this weekend but now I'm worried about the weather. I don't want to be stuck in that city if I can help it - I also don't want to be stuck on a train if I can help it. Hmmm.

Ok I'm tired and cranky and guess what? There's dishes to be done.