I've imported all my photos from an unframed 5x7 and deleted the thing. No one liked to visit it. Boo. There here now in a category aptly named 'an unframed 5x7.' Where the hell did I get a name like that? I'll be going thru the ol' Vagabond Spirit and clean up some more. Time to get rid of some things. Make way for new.
Enjoy!
Apparently, I have this little place on the internet called Light and Darkness. And apparently, I like to neglect it, having last visited over a month ago.
Really no reason. We've had some minor trauma in our lives over here. Namely, both my daughter and I are having life crisis. Em's stems from being a girl entering the devil's lare, commonly called adolescence. Mine appears to be the beginning of my mid-life "WHO THE FUCK AM I?!" or sometimes called "Waaaa. I'm getting old and I've done nothing thus far." Yeah, the two don't go well together. I think teenagers may be onto something having children when they are only twelve years old. When their daughters hit puberty, teenage moms will be still young and spirited and clueless about the world. They'll be able to handle the mood swings with gusto because they don't have freaking biological clocks and menopause sneakily hanging around the corner.
Well, I'm still here. I've actually been ignoring this place on purpose. Bit embarrassing to explain so I won't. I'm just feeling unaccomplished in my life in all areas right now. I'm getting very close to the latter half of my life and want so much more; and I've no mojo to get what I want. The most depressing bit about this all is that I think that's my personality. I want things yet don't make any effort to get any of it.
How do any of you motivate yourself to go after what you want or deserve or need?
I have been awake for the last twenty-four hours. I'm not as coherent as I could possibly be at this moment. I got home from work at six this morning. I'll deal with the long hours when needed, but the drive is going to kill me. Sleepy eyes, overpasses, and rain do not make great bedfellows. Need to move closer to work. I'm going to sleep now before I waste my few hours that I have. Em is at a science olympiad this morning and I've only until noon to enjoy sleep. Besos, mis amigos.
I definitely don't give up on things. I may delay. I may work on things at a snail's pace. I may even put aside for years before I tend to it again. But I generally don't forget about something I'm working on. May seem odd that I start this post like this but it's going somewhere....I promise.
The relationship that my mother and I have, is an evolving beast. In the years that I've maintained this site, we've morphed from two women, grudgingly related, who have resisted urges to kill each other to a mother and daughter who actually miss each other.
I've written the foulest exclamations from my damaged psyche that promised no forgiveness for her. Of course, there is embarrassment for being so honest with strangers about my feelings for my mother. Though I can delete all of the posts, I can't erase what I've said. I put it out into the universe. I don't think I should either. I did it to purge some of that darkness from me, and doing so helped me. It seemed to give me more than therapy every did.
She and I have distances to go. I still fear the repercussions of asking her for help. I am shy and uncomfortable with myself and my relationship with others because of my inability to feel like I should around my mother. Distances. I give credit, however to the both of us for trying to make it work.
I still give a nod to my father for this change. It sounds sickening and even feels so when saying it, but he died and things changed between Mrs. Devine and me. I don't know if it's a stark realization that death claims that chance to improve. No more chances to tell people you love them. However it ended....that's how it stays between you. We've not said as much to each other regarding Pop's death but I think we both know that it was our catalyst; and it was unfortunate that tragedy had to make us change. I guess volatile situations take another one to set it on another course.
I know I have said that I hate my mother. And boy, I have. I've never given up on changing things between us. It's changing and I'm thankful....and I do love her.
...Love you too, Pop.
I have to leave for work in four hours. I don't want to. I've had three days off in a row. I liked it. I enjoy not working. I wish I could...not work. I don't know if it's just that feeling of futility that seems to hit everyone. I've already set my limits of what I want to do with the company. I want to be a general manager and then that's it.
Where is there to go in the movie theater business after that? I'm not cut out for corporate life. Eck. Gives me hives just thinking about the responsibilities of that. Hell, I'm not cut out for the responsibilities that I have at my level right now. Days off only make me focus on what I'm not doing with my life.
Time to think is quite a dangerous thing for me. I fester in my own unhappiness, restlessness, and boredom. If I'm doing exciting things, it only makes me realize that I want to do that more. I don't want to go to work and deal with stupid things. I don't want that.
Job is not hard. Easy job. I'm not having as much fun as I did in Pensacola. Really think it's the people that add to the atmosphere. Maybe it's because I'm getting close to three years at this job. Thinking back, I've not really held a job for this long. Pretty sad, yes?
What would I want to do? I like doing whatever I want at whatever time I want to do it. I like being creative. I like not being responsible to anyone. Is there a career in laziness?
Shit. I don't know what I want to do with myself. I keep thinking writing but I'm not committing myself to anything that could constitute as consistent writing. Hell, I don't even think I'm good beyond my own thoughts and those of dear ones that love me....and yes, they're opinions matter to me a great deal. But everyone wants to be a writer. EVERY ONE and there are far more talented people than me.
Ugh. Maybe I'm just depressed and anxious and restless. I need to focus. I need to accomplish. I need to get past this.
I was absent from the online world for a few days because The Kitten had jumped behind the television bureau and had knocked out the cable internet connection. Having had to work and being too lazy to move crap, I just suffered through the loss until Wednesday. Was gleefully busy catching up with online life. Thus the lack of posts.
How have all of you been?
The thought of such a contraption sounds heavenly to me right now. Nutters, right? Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. I feel calmer when I turn off unwanted attention and stimuli. I've been plugging in the Skullcandies and just listening to the MP3 on random. Some songs I've actually had to skip because certain frequencies and sounds are really bothering me. I've been ignoring phonecalls and texts and people and these continue to occur whether or not I respond...and people are phonecalling and texting each other about me.
I went into those dreadful days last week already feeling overwhelmed by my senses. I just wanted to hide and to flip a switch, very much like on a lamp to silence all that noise. But I soldiered on and went to work and really just flipped out a little bit. Regret. Always with me is my embarrassing partner, regret. Stupid little bitch!
Sleep. I love to sleep entirely too much. I think I've mentioned this before. Not a healthy way to address issues but such a lovely way to pass the time. Avoidance in a dreamlike trance where I'm a beautiful heroine that can solve any problem and everyone adores me. HA!
sigh....
I need to let loose some of this shit building up in my psyche. I've gotten to comfortable with repressing the emotions and they are leaking out of my pores like pus. Yuck. I've decided to try and revive the saner parts of me (what little bits that are left). Write more. Want to write more but unable to be honest for fear and apathy and depression. Yes, another jumpstart crapper. Bear with me. Quite a bit of me is sadden that there may be no one reading this site anymore. I admit that I want an audience to pay attention to me. Validation. Sad, isn't it? Ho hum.
Stealing one of those memes from a friend that posted it near New Years. Going to post the meme with all my answers and then take each one of them and write an entry on it. Writing fodder. What I've done is in red.
Have Had An Asthma Attack
Smoked A Cigarette
Smoked A Cigar
Been Drunk
Kissed A Member Of The Same Sex
Been In Love or still in love
Been Dumped
Been Fired
Been In A Fist Fight
Snuck Out Of A Parent's House
Had Feelings For Someone Who Didn't Have Them Back
Been Arrested Or Seen Someone You Know Get Arrested
Made Out With A Stranger
Gone Out On A Blind Date
Had A Crush On Someone Older Than You
Skipped School
Slept With A Co-worker / Teammate Or Relationship Close To It
Seen Someone / Something Die
Been On A Plane
Thrown Up From Drinking
Eaten Sushi
Been Snowboarding / Skiing
Been Mosh Pitting
Taken Pain Killers
Love(d) Or Lust Someone Who You Can't Have
Been In A BAD Relationship
Laid On Your Back and Watched Cloud Shapes Go By
Made a Snow Angel
Had A Tea Party
Flown A Kite
Built A Sand Castle
Gone Puddle Jumping
Played Dress Up
Jumped Into A Pile of Leaves
Gone Sledding
Cheated While Playing A Game
Been Lonely
Fallen Asleep At Work / School
Used a Fake / Someone Else's ID
Watched The Sun Set / Sun Rise
Felt An Earthquake
Kissed A Snake
Been Tickled
Been Robbed / Vandalized
Robbed Someone (Or Store)
Been Misunderstood
Pet A Deer
Won A Contest
Been Suspended
Had Detention
Been In A Car / Motorcycle Accident
Had / Have Braces
Eaten A Whole Pint Of Ice Cream In One Night
Had Deja Vu
Danced In The Moonlight
Hated The Way You Look
Questioned Your Heart
Been Obsessed With Post-it Notes
Squished Barefoot Through The Mud
Been Lost
Been To The Opposite Side Of The World
Swam In The Ocean
Felt Like You Were Dying
Cried Yourself To Sleep
Played Cops And Robbers
Recently Colored With Crayons / Colored Pencils / Markers
Sang Karaoke ...
Done Something You Told Yourself You Wouldn't
Made Prank Phone Calls
Laughed Until Some Kind of Beverage Came Out Of Your Nose
Kissed In The Rain
Written A Letter To Santa Claus
Been Kissed Under A Mistletoe
Watched The Sun Set With Someone You Care / Cared About
Blown Bubbles
Made A Bonfire
Crashed A Party
Have Traveled More Than 5 Days With A Car Full of People
Gone Rollerskating / Blading
Had A Wish Come True
Been Humped By A Monkey
Worn Pearls - even though they were fake
Jumped Off A Bridge / Something Close to A Bridge
Swam With Dolphins
Got Your Tongue Stuck To A Pole / Freezer / Ice Cube
Kissed A Fish
Worn The Opposite Sex's Clothes
Sat On A Roof Top
Screamed At The Top of Your Lungs
Done / Attempted A One-Handed Cartwheel
Talked On The Phone For More Than 6 Hours
Stayed Up All Night
Picked And Ate An Apple Right Off The Tree
Climbed A Tree
Had / Been In A Tree House
Have Been / Are scared To Watch Scary Movies Alone
Seen / Heard A Ghost / Spirit
Have / Had More Than 30 Pairs Of Shoes Or Flip Flops
Gone Streaking
Been To / Visited Someone At Jail
Played Chicken
Been Pushed Into A Pool With All Your Clothes On
Been Told You're Hot By A Complete Stranger
Broken A Bone
Been Easily Amused
Caught A Fish
Caught A Butterfly
Laughed So Hard You Cried
Cried So Hard You Laughed
Mooned / Flashed Someone
Had Someone Moon / Flash You
Cheated On A Test
Forgotten Someone's Name
French Braided Someone's Hair
Been Kicked Out Of Your House
Rode A Roller Coaster
Went Scuba-Diving / Snorkeling
Had A Cavity
Been Used
Fell Going Up The Stairs
Licked a Cat
Bitten Someone
Licked Someone
Been Shot At
Had Sex In Or Next To A Field / Garden / Lake / Ocean / Park
Flattened Someone's Tires
Drove / Rode In A Car Until The Gas Light Came On
Had Five Dollars Or Less And Bought Something
Got a big talking to yesterday at work from my boss. I feel like shit. That's really the sum of it. I've been deleting phone numbers and online contacts for the last couple of days. I was feeling prickly before the talk but now, I feel maniacally sensitive to attention and people and breathing. Good god, I'm crazy. I think the pressure is getting to me. I don't want meds but I want to function.
It's been a busy holiday for me at work. I'm on day eight of an eleven day work week. Forgive me if I don't post anything for a couple more days. I have a few Fresh Fish entries that I'll share when I can. Until then, hope you're enjoying the holidays.
Last few days have been filled to capacity with emotions, work, and exhaustion. In the last thirty four hours, I've come away with a tired body. Just to give you an idea of what I've been going through...I left for work on Saturday at 3pm. With traffic, I arrived there an hour later. I did not get back home to the apartment until Sunday at nearly five p.m.
That's right, folks. I spent 24 hours at work, and I actually worked twenty-three of those twenty-four. At about 8am Sunday morning, I slept for an hour at a desk in the office.
No....I'm not a doctor or anything extraordinary like that.
Friday was not a good day, but that only was expected since Thursday SUCKED ass. That night ended with my mother telling me that she knew I couldn't do it (surviving here in Texas). She said I was blaming her for everything. Didn't understand why I would move away from her and the awesome life that I had in Pensacola. blah blah blah. She told me to stop being a baby when I started crying on the phone. blah blah blah. So....Friday began with my brother, who never answers or returns my phonecalls, calling me and telling me that he and Mrs. Devine decided to pack up my shit and move me back to Tennessee. I just have to quit my job and go.
I know I asked, no....pleaded, for help with what to do with my life but that just upset me more. Puts things into perspective when people tell you that you suck.
Just to get it in the open, I do not want to go back. If I go back, I'll fucking off myself. Dramatic, yes but shit. I would never hear the end of what a cock up I've made of my life. You might as well stick a red hot poker in my eye. That would at least be painful followed by the instant searing of nerves and cauterization of the blood vessels. I'd hurt for a period of time but I'd at least get over it. Mom's incessant reminder of my failures in life? No thanks.
I feel wanted here, at least professionally. The SGM likes me and gives great advice. He's quirky and successful and wants me to succeed as well. And as a pleasant surprise, I heard from my old GM, the one that I first worked under. The support from him well is amazing and he said he hears only good things about my time here in Texas. Like the SGM, he want success for me and both want me to make a good decision for me and Emma.
No, I don't want to go back to Pcola. I want Emma to be safe though. I don't want the constant worry about life and trying to avoid eviction or starvation. My mother has made it perfectly clear that I couldn't live with her if I moved back so how much better off would I be? I'd still have to find an apartment and have the same expenses as I do here. So, why would I go back to that and ruin any chance of making career steps forward? Just need to find other solutions.
Forgive me for saying this but this is one of those times that I wish I had that husband for support, financially and emotionally. Damn lucky people out there who have that. Hope none of you are taking your partners for granted. And I hope you are giving back as much as you're getting. If not, send them my way.
I need to sleep. At work I cut my fingers several times and they are stiff and painful. The sum of me is stiff and pain-filled. Combine diminished nutrients and emotional drain with lack of sleep and I have a very weak and hurting body. Everything aches and is swollen. I need supplements and sleep, which I am going to do...after a huge serving of orange juice.
Until.
Wasting a perfectly beautiful title for the tripe that follows but the words have been rolling off my mind's tongue for the last few days. Too many episodes of Top Chef. But i use it because I've so much to say and little time to say it.
I am depressed. Very depressed and I'm trying desparately to get over it. My lights were disconnected the other day and I spent what would have gone towards paying for part of the rent I'm behind. That day was a dark day, both literally and figuratively. I sat in my dark apartment with the rain streaming down outside and I cried. I called and texted several people to find everyone busy with life. After the fourth or so person, I stopped trying. It only made me feel worse. My sister did call me back. I wept silently as I listened to her talk about shopping for her boys and work schedules.
There's not much I can do but go on day by day. I've received your messages. Thank you for your concern. I'm working on feeling better. Probably not a healthy way of doing it by just ignoring the pain but what else can I do. If I talk to anyone right now, I'll probably feel worse. Just a few more days.
For now, I need to release. Dark places to come in the next few posts if I can post. Just excuse the whine and the depression and the inevitable desire to be non-existent.
I'm around. Haven't felt like talking much. Just ashamed of things and worried and stressed. Guess I'm just trying to get thru each day. Only way I can fathom things right now.
Just finished reading the latest post by No Milk. I hate that innocent people die. I also hate that this girl felt desparate enough to want to die. It doesn't excuse her actions. Nothing does. When you take another person's life because of your own, that's not right. I'm sorry for Paul and all the people left devastated by a loved one's death.
I'm angry at people who don't understand though. What it feels like to want to destroy your breath. To disappear. It's desparation and loneliness and a void of everything including darkness. Dying...to kill oneself...is generally not for selfish reasons.
I want to die more times than wanting to live. The errors in my life. The recoveries. The desparate attempts to fix what I seem to break. The futile moves to be better. I haven't gone quietly into this world. I haven't sat around and just given up. I've kicked and screamed. I've taken immeasurable steps to avoid failure. I keep going. And with each day, after convincing myself that I'm doing ok, I feel I've failed. And in that failure that brings others down, I feel tremendously guilty for not trying harder or doing more.
I fear that God will finally hear me and take me. I fear that I'll get what I want. I fear this because I fear what my child would do next. And so I don't actively try to kill myself anymore. But I want to. I want to because she's along for the ride of what a miserable person that I am. I hate what I expose her to...this wreck that we call Naomi; and so I stick, stuck where I am. I can't die. Yet, I'm not living.
I've said this before here. People who kill themselves are generally tired. Tired of fighting. And who out of any of you will give up so much to spare me from my own desparation? I ask none of you to do this for me because you have this nagging thing called self-preservation. I understand this. But don't call me selfish if I kill myself. I'm just tired.
I received an eviction notice printed on bright orange paper yesterday. I really don't know what I'm to do. I really suck at this thing called life. I take leaps of faith to improve myself and make better lives for my kid and me and they turn into death defying acts that Evel Kneivel would be frightened to perform. Guess I've not sacrificed enough in my life.
Prayer? Done it. I've done the selfish praying, asking God to just give me money. I've done the praying where I ask God to lead me to a place where I help myself. I've prayed that I just accept what happens and that we will be taken care of. So, what do I do when the landlord is beating at your door and the only money you have won't cover November's rent and December's rent is due tomorrow?
I've asked my mother for help already. She's help with moving. She's helped buying Emma's uniforms. She's helped with paying rent while I've been here. She can't help anymore. I can't even tell her about this because of what that means. And I don't want lectures about how I shouldn't have moved here. I get those already.
I moved here to move up and to become more stabilized in my life. To advance myself and remove myself from the dregs of my life...to believe in myself. And there just never seems to be improvement. Why the fuck, do I try?
GODDAMNIT! I just want to hate and hurt and forget and disappear. GOD, I'M FUCKING TRYING! WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? PLEASE JUST TELL ME!
Tomorrow (today, rather) is my last day in my current place of employment. Friday, I start anew. Still nervous and excited. Just want to do a great job. Confidence. Need some of that. Do they offer it as injection like a vitamin B shot?
In life...I've been talking to Frost quite a bit. The relationship between us is far better than it had ever been. I feel quite comfortable with being his friend. Kudos to friendship! Always a good thing.
The ol' fat goose, Christmas will be here very shortly. Damn bastard! Such a struggle. Taxmas is a much better holiday. Love me some Taxmas. My mother is going to the Philippines again this year for Christmas. I am jealous. Would love to go before the Islands or I get swallowed by a massive fish that decides to evolve and walk upon the land, just so it can eat chick peas (Yes. I'm tired.) One day.
Very tired. Need sleep. Love to all of you.
I hate that I missed a second day for NaBloPoMo. DAMN YOU, SCOOBY DOO! I don't even know how it escaped me this time.
I was in a much better mood today. Convinced myself that it was my choice to either be a curmudgeon at work or the sprite we all know and love. Just a choice. That crap is still all here inside. Things I focus on during the quiets of the day, but I've chances galore to make some little bit better.
I drove to work with the windows rolled down in my car. My hair was wild with freedom in the wind. The day was getting nice and cozy as the sun was beginning to set. Words to the music was barely discernible. Just felt good.
I did stay a bit hidden throughout the night. I had some emotional rough spots on Friday night especially with the young teenagers....sometimes those kids just chafe my ass! Overall, it was simply a nice night.
Off tomorrow. Maybe some movies with Emma after some housework. Sleeping in sounds pleasant as well. I want to play with my jewelry tomorrow. I have most of it packed away and I just want to see some of my bobs and bits (doesn't that almost look like boobs and tits?). May also write.
I walk thru life so numb most of the time. How does someone so huge and conspicuous like me feel always unnoticed and unwanted? Most of the time I change the subject when I talk about my life. I crave so desparately to release it all. I begin, am embarrassed by the gush of whatever emotion I'm wrapped in, and stop all rambling. I appear always an emotional unknown.
I don't trust others to take care of me. I don't rely wholly that even my closest friends will abandon their lives in my time of need. I just don't. I stay always aloof, even if by a microscopic filament of a distance. Do I do this because I'm afraid of rejection? Or am I distrustful? Childhood abuse and emotional neglect? Adult relationships born out of desparation with people as unhealthy as me? Or was I just broken from the very moment of my existence?
Physically, I'm this fat, 35 year old woman that is called "Fat Bitch" at least every other weekend by someone in a public forum. Emotionally, I'm a wisp of ghost that barely passes for a child. I want to be saved by someone because I honestly don't know what I'm doing in my life. I try every day to improve myself and find no success. I hate my outward displays of weakness, which make me recoil from people more and more. I try to be self-relient, but I'm bad at it. I never learned how to do it.
Day to day. I live day to day and I hate it. There has to be more substance to life than just floundering about during twenty-fours. I live to see the next day because I think, "Tomorrow will be better. Today is already a lost. Just need to wait until this day is over." It's no way to go. I miss everything.
I am lonely. My mother tells me that I have my kid. And her. I don't need anyone else.
It's not true. I want someone to desire me. To want me. To fight everyone to protect me. I want to go home at night knowing I can cry to someone and show my suffocating weaknesses, and he'll still love me. I don't want him to be someone else's love. I don't want him to want me because it's not good at home.
I thought I had him. He knows all my frailties. He knew the desparation that was always seems to linger within me. He heard my sobs, my fears, my true self. And he told me he loved me over and over. He called me beautiful. His Nae. I thought...I knew I could trust and believe in everything when he told me he loved me. I knew I could try to make it thru everything because I had him and Emma. I am broken and yet he said he loved me.
I know it's wrong to rely on another to love you and make you feel good about yourself. At least that's what we're told. But why? Why is it so wrong to know that someone so beautiful has seen the scars of your past and still loves you? He validates that your worth. You feel filled and capable of every possibility.
And then he's gone. Like that. My fault. My insanity and insecurity and desparate need to want him more.
My child pushes me away more and more. Her ever burgeoning search for independence. I take it personally, though I try not. I try not to rely on her because of her age and her role in life. She's the child. I'm the parent. My sadness with life comes out more and more as audible sighs. She asks me what's wrong. I feign ignorance.
This confession is nothing new for me. My quiet, daily despair is incessant. I choose to ignore it. I refuse medications, psychotherapy, and interactions with friends. Often, I fail and then, explode in streams of tears and pleads. Embarrassed, I apologize and move on. I am a horrible friend. Selfish.
My life is not going well here in Texas. I was trying to repair some damage to my financial life while Pensacola. It was looking positive but I've found myself strapped once again. I've isolated myself, which is bad enough but my daughter is sad and angry and without the close proximity of those she considered her peers and her friends. I moved here in hopes to be a better person. To earn what I worked to deserve. I've found myself terribly depressed and focusing on wounds that I haphazardly tried to repress.
What do I do? Who will save me especially from myself? Emptying out. I'm just emptying out.
I'm depressed. I'm not in the mood for talking. Despite my one missed day, I want to post every day. Hopefully more tomorrow.
sigh.......
I told myself to post before going to work. I told myself that I had to do that. AND YET! I forget. I didn't post for the tenth. FUCK!
I bought a game for my birthday and was caught up in it until I had to go to work. GOD DAMN IT!
Failure fucking sucks!
Isn't that a great name for a pediatric practice? Of course, it's not really a title for some place so ominous but still....Hansel and Gretel, here we come.
Had to take the Pie to the doctor today. She's been feeling ill for the last few days. Figured it was just her sinuses especially with the sudden change in the season. Her red, scratchy throat did not have the look of strep. She had no fever. No diarrhea. No flu like symptoms. But she did feel bad so I've let her stay home sick; and boy, did she just stay home and be sick. This kid has only slept and slept and slept. She's done very little in the activity department. After her third day home, I figured her sinus issue may be more than I thought. Dr. Naomi wrong? How?! Nope. Strep is negative. Only her sinuses but they've drained her of all energy.
But that's the name of the practice. Great name! Only thing better would be that the building's facade was in the shape of a mountainous clown. Families with their sick wee ones would have to walk up the sidewalk into a gigantic gaping clown mouth. Frightened and ill. Poor things. But it did make for some great laughing. Only thing funnier was when Emma said, "Wouldn't be great if there was a soup kitchen next to it?"
My wicked little child and her soylent green dreams! She IS my daughter. By the way, see my new author photo? Isn't my kid beautiful?!
I really don't want to go into details about the events of today at work because such details are very....well, detailed....that people from work will find me; and then I won't work again. Please note that it was a horrific day. And the last few days have been COD specials, which I will try to be more forthcoming on another post. At the moment, I'm tired. I'm hungry. And I think I'm getting sick. How dare my body decide three days before my birthday to get sick. Bitch!
Received a forward from a friend. I hate these with a passion. Namely the ones that tell me that I'm going to hell because I don't believe in Jesus or that I'm not patriotic because I don't wipe my ass with the right brand of toilet paper. Please don't forward these to me. I get angry with this bullshit.
How ironic is this??!! They don't even believe in Christ and they're getting their own Christmas stamp, but don't dream of posting the ten commandments on federal property?
USPS New Stamp
This one is impossible to believe. Scroll down for the text.
If there is only one thing you forward today.....let it be this!REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of Pan Am Flight 103!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the Marine Barracks in Lebanon!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the military Barracks in Saudi Arabia!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the American Embassies in Africa!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the USS COLE!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM attack on 9/11/2001!
REMEMBER all the AMERICAN lives that were lost in those vicious MUSLIM attacks!
Now the United States Postal Service REMEMBERS and HONORS the EID MUSLIM holiday season with a commemorative first class Holiday postage stamp. Bull!
REMEMBER to adamantly and vocally BOYCOTT this stamp. When purchasing your stamps at the post office. To use this stamp would be a slap in the face to all those AMERICANS who died at the hands of those whom this stamp honors.
REMEMBER to pass this along to every patriotic AMERICAN you know.
A couple things I'm going to say on this. First some questions:
I'm not going to answer any of these because the figures are insanse and inaccurate. However, in the name of Christian doctrine or at the hands of Christians, of all kinds, how many people suffered and died in the name of Jesus? The Crusades. Spanish Inquisition. Holocaust. Salem Witch Trials. Abortion bombings.
Next point: Timothy McVeigh was raised a Christian. Serial killers Jeffrey Dahmer, John Gacy, Robert L Yates, Jr and Ted Bundy were all Christians. Have you looked into the religions of our most famous criminals?
Let's go even further into dissecting this. What's the main religion of the KKK? What was the main religion of the American settlers that committed the Native American genocide during the founding of this great nation of ours? What was the main religion of the Americans that went through Vietnam and napalmed the hell out of the innocents including Phan Ti Kim Phuc? What has been the religion of every United States President that has allowed a genocide of the human race based upon political decisions they make every day?
Now, tell me that these people are the norm. Tell me that they represent Christianity and the different denominations of them. Tell me that I shouldn't be afraid of a Bible-carrying, Jesus-loving Christian. Tell me that I should ban every Christian based organization, friend, and event because of these people.
They're extremists. They're zealots. They're untrue representations of beliefs. As were all the damn extremists that committed those horrendous acts described in that moronic email. Throughout the history of humankind, there are those fanatics that destroy the lives of others. If it wasn't religion that was behind these acts, it was something else like politics or just plain ol' survival. Like I don't believe that every southerner is going to string up a black man from a tree because that southerner is a racist murderer, I don't believe that acts committed in the name of any religious leader, creator, or founder is the doctrine of said religion.
GROW A BRAIN, PEOPLE! You're perpetuating hate! You're passing on ignorant thoughts and behaviours. You're a lemming and it's sickening. Don't include me. I want no invitation to what you consider logical thinking and moral responsibility.
And I will buy that stamp. I am an American. If anyone can tell you that they're American, it's me. My ass came here from a country that sits in poverty every day. I come from that era where AMERICAN GIs chose to use their wang in a land that they thought no responsibility came from fucking an Asian during their overseas orders. I come from an extreme issue that should have me hating every bloody American. But I don't. Just ignorant ones. Because I was also introduce to another kind of America. Where a true freedom rings. Where people can have hate filled hearts and spew their garbage all over immigrants like me. They can live next door to me and my family who CHOSE to be Americans. An American like me who doesn't tell you that you're untrue because you're a different race or creed or religious nut. I'm that American. THAT HUMAN of the world....that knows that Islam didn't perform that violence. People with hate and ignorance did and they just happen to be Muslim, and they wanted everyone in the world to know they were.
This last week I've been getting up early and going to work in the morning like a regular 95er does...at least what a movie industry person considers regular. Let me be your Rosetta Stone for a moment in regards to what I've encountered as said movie industry person. Regular equates hours into the wee morning. Finishing a day and closing business and finally getting home for me is about 3-330 am after having started my day around 5pm. On an opening shift day, I get to work at 10am and go home anywhere between 7p-10p.
This job of my mine, if nothing else, has been perfect for my sleeping patterns: chaotic, intermittant, and short. Unfortunately, nothing gets done in my house. More unfortunately, I'm lying and using my work habits as reason to explain the lack of household chores and the discipline in performing them. Ha Ha....read into this as my being a lazy slob. The shame of it all.
I think I will rest for a brief moment, which translated means until I have to get ready for work at 3p. NO NO NO...today, I will accomplish something on the list of things I have to do in the apartment. I'll let you know how it goes.
What if depression is my superhero power? The negative spiral into blue darkness stops criminals in their tracks. Stifling, crippling depression swallows the joyful zeal of world domination and maleficent rule. It makes sense now. All these years of debilitating depression and mania have been my superhero psyche battling crime across the globe. I've been sending out psychic signals to all ne'er-do-wells and their minions. Interrupting their nefarious plans and making the world a safer place with my lightening fast sadness, I have.
Imagine, somewhere in the underbelly of a gothically dark metropolis is a criminal genius with his finger on the detonation button to release toxic fumes upon his unsuspecting foes. With my preternatural agility and unconscious gift to rule human emotion, I've disabled him. Instead of destroying the lives of thousands of innocents, he's sealing himself into his hyperbaric chamber. He has drawn all the shades, unplugged all his electronic devices, pulled on his pajamas and crawled into his bed. Cradled against his chest, beneath the layers of blankets is his Mr. Woo Woo, a stuffed porcupine he received on his eighth birthday from his favorite aunt Sue. Once a lively evil doer, hell bent on taking over the world he's suddenly immobilized by the overwhelming urge to cry. My arch nemesis has dropped all plans for conquest and just wants to know why no one loves him.
All because of me, folks. You sleep soundly tonight because of me and my superhuman emotional strength. Now, for my superhero name.
Will come back and post about Live@Mokah when I've collected my thoughts and edited them down to a workable post. Until then, I've posted some pics at an unframed 5x7. Also, I gave in and started a Flickr account. Some of the photos weren't posting right here. I may end up deleting an unframed 5x7 here.
November 9th, folks. Mark your calendars now for Nae Day. I gladly accept the following demonstrative acts of your devoted love and admiration:
Don't hesitate to think outside the box either.
The weather has changed here. It's cooler and sweater inviting.
My mood has changed also. Sami mentioned Seasonal Affective Disorder but the depression is always in my soul; it's only the physical manifestation that becomes more apparent. I am more depressed each day. Just sad and blue and lonely.
As much as I hate it, it's time to rethink getting professional help again. I really detest that road but I have more responsibilities here and can't let my life be overwhelmed with emotions that can destroy anything I've worked for. I asked for a psych recommend from a co-worker in the area and got one. Now? Need to call.
But I hesitate because so much of what's going on in my head is reaction to situations. What weighs heavy on my soul? No order:
No matter what I do, I'm still in love with Angus and just getting over him is a death defying act. The man has issues. I have issues. To stop loving someone because of who he is would mean I deserve none of the love I get from others. If anyone deserves being forgotten, it's me. Not him. sigh
My child is unhappy. She's stubborn and has always been shy in making friends. She refuses to do things out of defiance. Asking her to try and make friends so she's not lonely is akin to asking her eat jagged pieces of glasses with rusty razor blades embedded in the pieces. And yet, she complains about not having friends. Extraordinary thing is that people like Emmaline. I can't help her. She refuses to let me. All the time we lived in Pensacola, she hated it there. Was ready to leave. Grass is greener thing here.
I make more money here with my job but I'm worse off financially than what I was as an assistant manager in Pensacola. Rent takes all of one paycheck and a little of another. I can't afford anything in my current state and any copay or little necessity is out of the question. I have to do one of two things to fix my situation: 1)Get a second job. 2)Get rid of everything that isn't a necessity.
My apartment is crap. I'm too tired or unmotivated. I haven't even gotten through my unpacking. It's horrible. On my list of things to accomplish today.
My job is pissing me off. In moving up, I earned paid vacation with the title. However, I haven't been able to take any because the AMs take so many days off; and with my boss having had her baby this week, I'm looking at not taking any for some time. That's ok. Spring break? I'm out of there. VACATION! Screw 'em!
I'm unsatisfied. I'm always unsatisfied. I thought it was because I can't appreciate what I have. I've had conversations to this effect; but I think it's because I'm not doing what I want to do. I don't give myself any real pleasure. I use things I'm good at as cause to be satisfied; but I don't do the truely satisfying things especially those that I am good. Why? I'm denying myself my true talents and joy and happiness. FOR WHAT GODDAMN REASON?! Source of my unhappiness. The truth of my depression. Reason more to state emphatically that I'm not bipolar and refuse to be treated with medication and psychotherapy as such.
There you go. No real way to end this. I'm depressed and I don't like it. Now, to fix it?
I have a boss (henceforth, will be known as SGM) that I absolutely enjoy my interactions with him. He's inspiring and honest, both qualities that I value. Each time we end a conversation, I feel ready to take on the world...at least parts of it.
My most recent chat with SGM boiled down to this: Finding out what I want and obtaining it. I don't have difficulty knowing what I want. I've never been indecisive. I've been a pussy when it comes to obtaining it or putting my want over the wants of others. I appear indecisive because I won't follow thru with my desires; but I always know what I want. Just can't say it aloud.
Not any more. It's not doing me any good. There shouldn't be any harm in declaring wants. They're my wants so I should be permitted to screaming them aloud if I choose to. Another's response shouldn't concern me. Their response is not under my control and it doesn't change what I feel. So, here it goes.
Remember when I mentioned the ol' donkey porn in a previous post? Well, one fourth of you out there in the internet world have a serious thing about the beast of burden. I've had more visits to my site because of the mention of the violation of said animal than for any other reason.
I really don't know how to comment on that other than the ASPCA may be interested in the results. Seriously, if we're dealing with some sexual frustration, you can always invest in a Real Doll.
Why the hell can't I just stop loving the Angus? I just cried for him again. Like a stupid, love-sick teenager I long to hear from him. That waiting by the phone ritual that every adolescent girl adopts and performs ceremoniously and religiously.....funny thing, changed my fucking phone number when I moved here to Texas so how the hell would he call me even if he wanted to.
He's probably moved on with his life to someone far better than I can ever be. Beautiful, grounded, calm, fantastic, funny, intelligent. Far better.
Goddamnit, that makes me angry. Makes me sad. Makes me want to pound the crap out of my damaged little psyche. Tell her to grow a backbone and forget the man. Call him a mother fucker and be done with it.
Fucking moaning! This is bullshit! Seriously, I need to be kicked in the ass. He's done with me and I need to stop my fucking whining. Forget. Forget. Forget.
Just moronic.
Fucking idiotic.
Cretin, that I am.
Ok....done for now.
Do we remember this one, Eight Things to Share? I've completed two so far; and might I say that I've done them in order without even trying. By god, I think I've got this list thing down.
I've been talking to Frost quite a bit over the last month and a half, and it's been a welcomed experience. What we've discovered: we're better friends this time around than we had ever been in our past encounters. It's been cathartic and revealing.
Have you ever wondered about that ex in your life? Your first love? Answering yes only confirms that you've also wondered about what could have been. You've also probably idealized the relationship, used it for comparison, and regarded it fondly. Here's the gift in talking to Frost after all these years.....I didn't realize how much I had grown since the last interaction with him. I had held so many things too sacredly regarding the relationship. And my god, were they misleading!
By all means, I'm not saying that it was horrible or that he is horrible; and I say the following with no conceit or ill intentions but I'm over him. I thought I wasn't but I am. Before anyone gets upset at how callous that sounds, I told him the same thing. It's not a bad thing. I just realized how young and stupid some of the thoughts I had about him and our relationship were; and I had a sense of loss when the relationship (and friendship) ended.
Now, things flow easier between us, at least that's how I'm perceiving it. I have no pretense to act a certain way or hide certain emotions. I get to act like the grown-up that I am and be the person I've always been but was too nervous to show those previous times we knew each other. I have no pressure to be anything but Nae. I've had resolution with him and with myself. How freaking fantastic is that?! How many of us really get to say that after years of the end of that one relationship that gets you each time you think about it, you get to go back and realize that the fate of it ending was actually for the best? Freeing, I tell you.
We're friends. I'm very happy with that.
Yep. No pretty way to describe my mood. I'm just a bitter hag right now with nothing nice to say about those that are on my "I don't like you very much" list. Eh. Just a foul mood that no person should be obliged to listen, so I'm not going to indulge it other than to say b-i-t-t-e-r.
I promised myself to write this week. Carrie is holding me accountable and when she comes back from her trip, I must have something in hand as proof that I kept the promise.
Why is it so bloody hard for me to write? I'm pretty creative. I've a voice like everyone else and I know the words to express it. I have a style. I'm a decent writer. What the hell?! Makes no sense.
Unhappily, I had to drive to another one of my company's locations to pick up a film. It's about a fifty mile drive, round trip on the craziness called the interstate.
I have not been happy with Texas drivers since I moved here. My first experience was that home finding trip during fourth of July weekend. My flight had arrived at night so driving to L'ville did not rank high on the great orgasmometer (i.e....it sucked). I had to go into the high places of the sky and in the middle of one of the one ramps to the high places of the sky was the carcass of a dead moose or whale or something huge like that. Scared the shit out of me. On the trip to the hotel I was staying at on my last night in town, I broke down crying on the phone to my boss because I got stuck in traffic and ended up going to the airport.
Little secret...I'm afraid of heights and I hate driving so maneuvering the overpasses and high levels of the interstate are death defying feats for me. I will be the old senior citizen who will gleefully give up her driver's license at a good retirement age and who will bother every one of her grandchildren to drive her everywhere because my ability to drive gets crippled by many things. I manage it but I'm usually on pins and needles when I have to drive for extended periods of time....like five minutes....because I feel the road is too narrow, the trucks are too big, and the morons are too likely to have a license, which leads me back to Texas drivers.
They have no mercy for you. NONE whatsoever. Here's a favorite pastime of theirs or so it seems. Drive really, really fast whilst staying on front car's ass. Don't pass. Oh no. You won't get bonus points for that EVEN though the lane to your left OR right are clear and free of any other motorized vehicle. The faster you go and the closer you are to the back bumper, the better the day.
Seriously, what the fuck kind of driving is that?!
I've seen many an automotive accident on the interstate since I've been here. They seem to always involve a massive vehicle like the semi-truck. One evening as I was coming home from the theater, I was in traffic for nearly an hour because a semi had flipped and burned on the interstate. On another day a semi hauling a double-wide motor home was traveling in front of me at approximately eighty miles an hour. Its tire was shredding as it was driving down the road. It continued to drive until all that was left was the tire wheel and then it slowed down and stopped. Scary moment for Em and me. I had slowed down until I was a safe distance behind it. There was no way in hell I was going to drive beside it and risk the fucking tire wheel falling off and come flying into my path of traffic, but every other maniacal driver didn't mind being near it.
I generally end up cussing when I drive. I've tried to curb it because it's not a healthy way to die....having a brain aneurysm from the screaming fit at an inept driver during rush hour traffic. No. Rather not.
Friend Steph gave me advice when I first moved here. Use your turn signals not as permission to come into the next lane but as warning as if to say, "Bitches! You better move or you stupidly deserve what I give you!"
Remember the cartoons when McDuck would swim and dive the money piles in his vault? The money looked so fluid and organic and so much more abundant than real life. Oh, how I wish I could do that.
I'm trying to save money. I've not a lot to my name but I've been happy with the progress I've been making. Until now. I was ignoring the fact when looking at my job offer here that I would be struggling harder than in Pcola. Everyone including myself said that I would be ok. I'd make it. Just a matter of budgeting.
Shit! It's going to be tighter than hell. I mean really tight. I just went grocery shopping as well shopping for Em's school uniforms and I feel guilty for having spent that money because now I'm looking at my bills and shaking in my core. Fuck!
It's gonna be ok. I know it will be. Just need to stop eating.
Kidding.
Maybe.
No...really, I'm kidding.
*nervous little laugh*
Ugly title but it brings about as many people to this site as one can imagines through internet searches.
Anyhoo.....I just wanted to pose a question for any women out there or their sympathetic mates.
Are you hornier during your period? Does all coherent thought leave your brain during your flow only to be replaced with randy thoughts of fucking the hot Time Warner guy that seems to do all customer orders in your apartment complex?
No? Well, at least you got to see me use donkey porn in a sentence.
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no feet had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
--
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference
.
I was not a fan of Robert Frost growing up. I think I purposely chose the different so any mainstream poet or artist or person in society was automatically my enemy. I cheered the underdog or the antagonist in any situation or movie or whatever....my daughter is the same way right now. But as an adult, I see the value of what I once considered to 'normal' for me. The poem has been dissected and written about entirely too much to give any real poetic debate on my part but I use it as a prelude to what this post is truly saying.
An old boyfriend found me recently. Through this site as a matter of fact; and he has stirred up emotions within me that I never really resolved. If you know me, you know that resolution with me is generally repressing shit. I'm one for resolution but usually those involved aren't so I can't deal with things the way that I want to. We'll call the old boy Frost because it's a cool name and refers to the aforementioned poet.
Coming clean, I had never stopped loving Frost. I'm just not that type of person. When I love a person, whether it's a parent or a friend or a lover, I'm in for the proverbial long haul. So, having Frost enter my life, albeit not completely or wholly, is an overwhelming feeling. I want him in my life. I'm excited about the prospect of having who I considered one of my closest friends back in my life. But, until there's really more information, I just don't know what to do. I think of what was and what could have been and what still could be. Thus....two roads.
Perhaps I'm just an idiot. Hoping for more? Of course. Again, I would be a liar if I didn't admit that. But admittedly, I'm staying away from everyone. I've never been the woman that anyone chooses. Yes, perhaps for the moment but never past the end. So....here come the emotions. Lots of history between Frost and myself. Definitely thrilled to hear from him again. Can't wait to talk to him again. But, I guess we'll see.
By the way, Frost....when you read this. Don't let it stop you from talking to me. Just venting in a forum that I'm familiar with.
An old friend found me and I'm anticipating a call that should happen tomorrow sometime....I'm thinking. Excited. Nervous. Curious. Apprehensive. Happy. Some of the emotions happening right now; but I'm worried more about my reaction once I get the phone call.
Hmmmm
We've been in Texas for over a month now. Ladies and Gentleman, you are going to be amazed what the last month has been like. It's not been a picnic nor a party.
The drive here went beautifully. We made the trip in twelve hours with several stops along the way. It was seamless and lovely and very pleasant. And then, like some Boris Karloff horror movie, the new residence in the big plains state became 'interesting.'
My apartment experience has involved wrong keys, wrong apartment plan with smaller square footage than what I chose, wrong rent, wrong parking spot, wrong address, utility hook-up issues and the sort. For my anguish, the apartment manager reduced my rent by an additional $200 for August.
During the time we were in the hotel (nearly two weeks), Emma got sick with an ear infection. That was our first visit to the Medical Center of Lewisville. No insurance at the time. Oh yay! for me. Then two weeks ago, I visited the MCL for the second time in the two weeks we had lived here for me. Refused admittance to the hospital for overnight IV meds and observation...main reason to be honest was because I had no insurance at the time (only three days away from the start of my medical benefits when I got sick) and the visit was going to break me as it was. Incidentally, I just received my medical bill for my trip to the ER and it's nearly $1500.
Then there's the job. I'm glad we moved because it's opportunity and I refuse to let this place kick my ass. However, it's not been a joy. In the last month, I have questioned my decision to apply and accept this job. Yesterday was probably one of the best days on the job. I have hope because of yesterday but until that moment, I've been upset about my move. I think that's why I got sick. Stress and worry and fear and such.
Texas has been kicking my ass. There are definite pluses to this state. Em and I went to Dallas for her birthday last week (by the way....my kid is TWELVE years old. Where did the years go?). The cityscape is amazing. Sorry, really no photos. Em took some on her phone but not really of the scape. There just seems like there are so many more restaurants and shopping centers and places of interest. When I can, I'll show you what I mean.
There seems to be no escape from the sun though. This doesn't mean that I think Texas is the hottest place on the planet because I seriously believe Memphis is much hotter than here. I just feel there are not enough trees in this state. It's just so much sunnier. There also seems to be no actual housing areas in this city. Lewisville seems to be a city of apartment complexes. This may be relative to the proximity of Dallas (only 30 minutes down the road) and Denton (city of colleges, just fifteen minutes north of here). Apartments change the landscape and feel of an area. Know what I mean?
I know it's going to be good here though. Definitely lonely for the familiar, which includes the friends but I'll be ok. For now though, after a month long hiatus from the internet, I am back in touch with the rest of the world. Thank the gods.
You know. The one that describes the seemingly insurmountable amount of shit that you have to pack in four days during which you have to also work and sleep whilst trying to reduce your life for the last five years in a three bedroom house to one that will be sustainable in a two bedroom apartment in time for your brother, who is doing you a favor by driving nearly eight hours from another state to help you move by loading the moving truck while you're away finding an apartment in Texas and then when you return will help you drive the ten hours back and then unload said belongings from said truck?
What's that word? Mmmmm. It's on the tip of my tongue.
Oh yeah.
AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
For the last week or so, I've been having these dreadful symptoms that are driving me a bit wonky. I've been paranoid and worried that I'm having heart attacks and not paying attention to any of them. Images of me driving to Texas when the "Big One" hits, a sudden slumping over the wheel, and then Em, the animals, and I plunge over a bridge into a watery grave.
Yeah, not pleasant at all.
I know I'm having stupid panic attacks. Why do I know this instead of carrying my fat ass to the ER with the possibility of cardiac arrest? Because I don't think one of the symptoms for heart disease among women is the constant twitching of your left eye. Seriously, I've been twitching. I am officially crazy. Whereas, I was on the cusp of acceptably nutty with a hint of emotional instability; I am now "family history of fucking crazy" for those medical questionnaires of my future generations.
Sigh.
I'm stressing out a bit about this move. Folks, do you realize that I'm leaving in little over a week?! I'm fucked! I'm getting those chills that occur from anxiety as I speak. Rationally, I'm sitting here typing away but I'm quaking at the same time. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
I have declined assistance from my mother for the last few days but now, I (fuck! What's that word that describes what General Lee did at the Appomattox Court House to end the Civil War?! Shit, I can't think of the fucking word....doesn't it start with an A? AH FUCK! Now, I'll have to use another word but it won't be the same because I have a craving to use that particular word. You know the word. The one that describes when you hold up a white handkerchief and wave it. What Napoleon did?! Please, for fuck sake...someone tell me the fucking word!.....I had to look it up and evidently SURRENDER starts with A in my tired mind. sigh) surrender. She can help.
I had intended to have garage sales over the next couple of days but I need the time to pack. It was a lofty goal but I was going to try. Now? Now that I'm physically rebelling against sanity in the form of facial tics, jaw pain, arm and leg cramps, irritable bowel syndrome, shaking and every other crazy person symptom; the garage sale will not be. I'm donating to the balikbayan boxes my mom will be sending to the Islands, the local charities' thrift stores, and friends that happen upon me in the next few days.
I'm stressing....just a wee bit.
"Wee bit," she said in that leprechaun voice and with her forefinger and thumb in wee bit position including the hunching of the shoulders.
I fly out for a home finding trip on Tuesday night. I will be back on Friday morning just to turn around and drive back to Texas on Saturday. I'm thanking The God for my brother who will be making the drive with me. As much as I thank The God for the help, I want to hit everyone involved thus far for this lovely, wee bit of stress I'm going through right now.
No, really. I'm excited about the job....Can't you tell?
Ok. I've fucked around enough for the time being. Back to the trenches for packing.
Oh, by the way. I've been watching Dead Like Me and I'm already pissed that I know the show's been canceled. Why the hell are we canceling shows with a higher caliber of writing? And why the hell do people enjoy shit like the Age of Love? I'm tired of REALITY TV (except Last Comic Standing because me loves the funnies.). And my god, this guy is ugly anyways! Please. For fuck's sake, television and screen writers, do something of artistic value instead of monetary. You canceled a cable show! How fucking hard is it to keep a show on cable?! Seriously! I love this show and am sad that I will have only two seasons to watch for eternity. And trying to adapt for the screen. PLEASE DON'T!
But, I digress.
New car. A 2007 Impulse Red Toyota Corolla CE. And when I say new, I mean new. Only 48 miles on it before I came home with it. It's not all stacked with a million options but it's still pretty and the gas mileage is very good. 32 city/41 hwy. Yay!
I'm starting to get panicky. Do you realize that it really isn't that too far away before I leave Pcola?! I have entirely too much to do before I head to Texas and not enough time to do it.
I'm packing now and feel I'm a lilliputian in a herculean world. There seems to be no progress and I'm not feeling good about this....all....breathy....heart palpitations.....shaking hands....good god! I feel overwhelmed. I tried to ease my irrational fears today (as I tried yesterday) and it helps for a good, solid ten minutes. I've started in the den and I think that's where my problem may lie. We spend most of our time in the front rooms of the house, namely the den so the majority of our crap is here. I'm thinking that after work today I start in the back rooms like the bedrooms.
Will be having a garage sale next weekend if you're interested. I have no idea how that will go but it's a monumental task that HAS TO HAPPEN. I can't carry all this shit to Texas with me and I want to get something for the stuff I'm giving away. If you're in Pensacola, I'll have dishes, pots/pans, furniture, bed linens, books, and all the spices of every day living. What doesn't get sold in three days, goes to people and charity....reminder to self: ad in paper.
If you're not doing anything and want to help me move, I will welcome the help. I may have to make a path to the door first.
God, I wish I was Samantha Stephens.
I will be moving to Texas within a month for a promotion in the company.
This is a big step for me. I'm afraid of success. Most of the time, I don't feel I deserve it; but I've been working for this and the steps following it for some time now.
I've battled myself and my natural tendency to just moan about things. I've almost strangled that little bitch that resides in me that tells me that I'm worthless. She still clings to certain lobes of my brain like a cancer that has wrapped itself around the foundation of what I am. But by god, she's not going to win.
The move is hopefully going to go smoothly. I worry about finding an apartment. Again, the credit thing but I will make this work.
I'll keep you updated as the clock clicks down. As of now, my first day in my the building will be July 13th.
I truly believe that what you put out into the cosmos comes back to you, multiplied. I take this belief to an extreme. If you think it, it can come back to you in a physical manifestation of itself.
As I get older, I realize what a bitch I can be. I don't think the core of me is bad bitchy meaning that I don't go out of my way to wish harm upon a person; but I will speak my mine. I will be outspoken. AND I will give you the shit you give me back. I will, again admit that I can be bitchy.
There are things I am angry about that occurred in my life. There are people I am still angry at; however, I am never past the point of ever writing anyone off. If you really know me, you'll understand this about me. Read enough of this journal and you'll see the woes I've been through with my mother yet I will never remove my mother from my life. My friend Beth can vouch for this fact. We were not friends for several years because of my anger towards a situation and my way of going about expressing it.
I guess this is leading up to something.
My dad's family.
I miss them. I am angry at many things concerning them. I was very vocal about my relationships with members of them. But none of that means that I don't want to be part of my family. Hell, I've seen and heard crap from all of them; and I have no doubt they've experienced the same from me. I just don't know how things can be mended now.
When my father died last year, it was one of the worst times of my life. Things were hostile with the family on the day of the funeral. Some apologies were made for which I'm grateful, but things are still fucking weird. I don't feel like a part of my dad's family. I feel uninvited and unwanted and I mostly stay away. Phone calls to those that I still talk to seem tense and obligatory; and I hate those.
I miss talking to my grandfather, probably one of my favoritest people in the world, in that way it was before I got pregnant with Emma. He used to call me his Southern Belle, making fun of the accent I had (not that he didn't have a thick Wisconsin one himself). Now? I think he's ashamed of me.
I miss my grandmother sending me a children's card for every holiday with a dollar stuffed into it. Now? She's polite to me.
I called my grandpa for father's day yesterday and felt like a stranger; and you know me, I withdraw even more when I feel like I'm intruding. I really hate this.
I found my aunt's blog today. Remember, I talked about this aunt. I was unkind in referencing her before. She's much nicer in her writing than me. I look like acerbic, sardonic, crazy bitch in comparison. There is a lot of dirty laundry between us. Tense feelings. So much so that we avoided looking at each other at my pop's funeral. And I hate this too.
It's a regret to have such a miserable relationship with my father's family. I don't know how to fix it. I don't think I'm completely wrong for how I've felt in the past or feel know. I know there was some immaturity on my part on how things were expressed. I can't take any of that back now, but I sure as hell would like to be able to see members of my family without feeling like criminal.
Eh.
I think I'm going to write my grandfather a letter now.
I interviewed for the Texas job on Friday and now I wait for a response.
I am nervous about a number of things excluding the actual job. I know I can do the job. The job would be refining and putting to practice what I've been spending the last few months learning.
No, I'm nervous about money. I worry about my credit and being able to get an apartment. I worry about the costs to turn on lights, pay deposits and fees, settling in...you know, the important stuff. Also nervous about how this will affect Emma. Hoping we find a nice neighborhood with kids that are good for her. Other worries too.
All are keeping me up right now as constant thoughts u-turning in my brain. Incessant little buggers.
I spoke with my mother about the job. I was scared to ask her for financial help for the move. Honestly, I don't know how I would actually afford leaving this city. Surprisingly, the money wasn't the hard part of the conversation. She said she would help. I am relieved.
Sooooooo, I wait and worry. Hoping to hear back in the next couple of days. Looking forward to see the offer. Scared to negotiate if I don't like the offer. Does anyone else have a problem asking for more money especially if you deserve it. Professional athletes and actors are the smart ones with agents making and breaking their deals. My friends at work have been my little agents whispering in my ear. Same as Carrie. According to them, I'm an extremely hot commodity and should ask for no less than a billion dollars. I have a feeling the company would counter-offer that...hey, I know it would be a huge salary cut but I'll do the employer a solid and accept a million. We all have to make sacrifices for the team sometimes.
I'll post as soon as I hear something.
Does anyone want to update my resume for me? It's due on the prospective employer's desk by tomorrow.
There is a job posting in my company at a location in Texas. It's for the position that I would next hold. I want it but am seriously afraid of posting a reply. What if I suck, I ask myself? Well, I've been doing what the job entails without the pay or title for months now. I know the job. I am the job. So, why am I scared?
Financially, I am terrified of the move because I can't afford shit. The cost to connect any services and such would break me because my credit sucks and I KNOW I would have to pay a deposit. And speaking of Naomi-Credit Suckola-McCrap-Crap....how the hell am I going to be able to get an apartment with the financial tar bog known as my credit?! Fuck! I'll be working for more money but living out of a shoebox.
I just don't know. There are things about moving forward that are scary as hell. BUT none of them compares to the financial woe that it all involves. I do NOT want to rely on Mrs. Devine for help because she already thinks I'm a freeloading mess. She doesn't say it aloud but there are times that her message is loud and clear...like now.
I actually told my mother that I'm looking at moving up with the company. This was months and months ago. We had a discussion about the house that I live in.
Let's backtrack this story a bit. My mother owns this house. When it was purchased, we looked at putting it in my name; but because I am that money pit called Naomi, it couldn't be done. I have very little money living paycheck to paycheck so I haven't paid my mother regular rent since living in the house. Taxes come and I give her a lump sum that satisfies her momentarily.
Now, my mother has done a fairly good job of not pointing out the lack of rent. It only comes up when (1) she's angry at me which I avoid by avoiding her most of the time or (2) when our Filipino relatives call her for money which is generally once a month (even then I do the method as described in point one: avoidance). And, not having to pay rent has kept me from being desperately poor.
Back to the original thought.....when I first discussed the prospect of moving, my mother said she was going to sell the house. As an offer of generosity, she would give me an amount of the sale to help me live at my next location. In succeeding conversations, the same point was made. It would be more cost effective for her to sell the house since she's having to deal with the upkeep of the house whilst her daughter (me) wasn't. Selling the house would pay any mortgage off and make a little profit.
However, the most recent conversation went like this:
Mrs. D: I'll keep the house and rent it out because you'll be back. You always come back and you're NOT living with me.
Me: *silence*
Me: *more silence*
Me: *silence mixed with choked back tears* Ok, Mom. I've got to go.
Mrs. D: *with laughter* Nae.
Me: I'll talk to you later. *hangs up and cries like a little baby*
There is much more in the conversation than the above. I had told my mother the conversation made me feel inadequate and very much like a loser. I apologized for being crappy as a person and daughter. blah blah blah before I said goodbye and CRIED LIKE A BABY! My mother did call back and apologize.
I know my mother is disappointed in having me as a daughter. I see it more in her face than hear it as actual words; but it's there, that disappointment. I don't blame her. It's what's really keeping me from applying for the position. I work very hard to not screw up but I make the worst decisions, it seems. AND I can't come back to my mother again. It's humiliating and defeating and I can't do it again.
I know parents get disappointed with their