Sunday, June 29, 2008

Self-imposed hiatus is over...but was it worth it??

I still don't know. I still have some issues to work out. This whole self-reflection thing has been a pain in the ass. I'm not crazy about it, but whatever.

It would be nice if a certain someone would call me right about now. You don't just drop something like that on me and then leave me to stew for a day or two. This is huge!! We need to talk!! Ugh. (That would bring the count up to three, btw. Should've known.)

Suffice it to say self-reflection is on hold while I consider the future, ie where the hell I'm gonna be in another year or so. I had a plan. Certain factors were deliberately not taken into consideration, making it a really good plan if this or that didn't work out. (If you haven't noticed, I'm taking a page out of my brother's book and being as vague as possible. I think it'll work out in the long run.) Now shit is up in the air, and the plan could change at any time.

Once upon a time, the future was something to think about tomorrow...tomorrow...tomorrow. But since the divorce was finalized, it's been something to think about today, today, today!! Time flies even when you're not having fun, and another one of those pesky forks in the road draws nearer with each step I take. There's no slowing down or turning back, so I have to think and come up with something, fast, before I get swept away by undesirable alternatives. Anything could happen between now and'd be nice if I had some clue as to what "anything" entails.

So what the hell am I supposed to do with myself until said clue finally chooses to enlighten me?!

Saturday, June 14, 2008


Not only is what I've been writing here being misinterpreted, I have been misquoted several times in the past two my face.

Also, I was recently told that since my feminine health crisis a few months back, I'm not really the same person. The person didn't go into details except to say that I've been more, er, "estrogenical" since then. I'm taking this as negative feedback.

All of the above has driven to this decision: a hiatus on blogging is in order. The micro-blog will still be active, but this is going off the radar for the time-being. I need to do some self-reflection, and see how I can fix this. All of this.


Friday, June 13, 2008

Hell yes, I'm proud.

Yesterday I stole two pieces of candy from a soon-to-be-invalid, a co-worker who will be getting a hip replacement at the end of the month and who was experiencing pain in the afflicted hip at the time of my thievery. Am I ashamed of my actions?? No. Instead, I am astounded at my own awesomeness and was nearly collapsed under the weight of my sheer awesomeness.

One day late last year, the ex and I got to talking about the things we'd like to do, the hobbies we'd like to pick up, etc. He expressed as desire to learn to play the piano, which took me by surprise because until then the most interest he'd ever expressed in music in any form or of any genre was a mild appreciation for it as background noise while working out or doing chores. However I encouraged him and wished him luck with this endeavor, and expressed a desire to learn how to belly dance.

Since then I have not taken any steps do to anything of the sort, but was put to shame last week when I learned that Eric had actually bought himself a keyboard and is fully dedicated to the task of learning to play. Shame on me and my procrastination. I should remedy this.

Other things I'd like to get around to doing:

- take up crocheting again
- learn Spanish (Jay has promised me a copy of Rosetta Stone, hooray!!)
- start baking
- finally beat Pokémon Yellow on Gameboy once and for all (Even if I felt like explaining this ridiculous years-old ambition, I would come nowhere near to making you understand.)

Epic War Against Spiders and Bugs in General update: Terminix is coming over this evening to take care of my problem. Hooray for Terminix!! It turns out, after doing to internet research, that bug bombs work well against flying bugs and such, but are more or less inefficient against the creepy-crawlies that hard in deep, dark crevices of your home, as the spray that is released by a bug bomb is merely a surface treatment. So I'll leave it to the professionals, and hopefully get better results from that then I did from my spider spray treatment of the fireplace and vents.

Today was Rich's final out (as well as Jay's, who will be returning to his home up north), and he has sixty days of leave saved up for his terminal. And so ends his constant complaints about the military in general, and hopefully over the next sixty days we'll see a constantly cheerful Rich, one who will no doubt spend his days playing endless Madden, NCAA, and GTA IV. He's already a seasoned couch potato, but I predict that he will set a new standard for couch potatoes everywhere. We shall see...

And if you haven't noticed, I now have an account with Jaiku, a micro-blogging sight very similar to Twitter. The link is over there on the right, and I'm already making good use of it. How exciting to be able to randomly blog while on the go. A brilliant concept.

And finally, a shout-out to Nick, a longtime friend of Rich's, who has invited me to bond with him and others of his acquaintance over activities that are not centered around booze. You rock, dude.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Arachnaphobia: fear of spiders.

They terrify me. I hate them, all of them. I care not that they feast on the bugs that plague mankind and also instill fear in my soul. I HATE them.

And they're finding their way into my apartment. How?? It doesn't matter. The fact that they are waltzing in as if they own the place both enrages and terrifies me to no end.

So here I am, taking my precious time about getting my stuff together to spend the night at Rich's. And I'm thinking, I totally could have left an hour ago!! But if I had...oh, if I had...

...I would have left behind me, unbeknownst, a spider, nickel-sized in diameter (too big!!)...CARRYING A CLUTCH OF FUCKING EGGS. Where would it have ended up?? In the cat box?? In the vents?? IN MY BED?!?!

So I grabbed my spider-killing spray, and spray the fuck out of it. And step on it. And I look around for something to grab hold of this thing and flush it down the toilet, never to bother me again. And when I looked back at the spot where it lay...IT WAS GONE.

This was quickly spiraling out of control, turning into a nightmare. I was hyperventilating and on the verge of tears, when I saw movement. It was attempting to seek shelter beneath my laptop bag. I kicked the bag out of the way, sprayed the little fucker again, grabbed a chair, and with all my weight CRUSHED IT with the leg. And there the chair remains, leg on top of the dead beast. Shaking, I quickly grabbed my things, did not bother to turn off the lights or close my blinds, and fled for my sanity.

I am going to bug bomb the hell out of my apartment, and then separately bug bomb my fireplace, just to be sure. I cannot live like this, day in and day out, constantly looking over my shoulder and living in fear as my skin crawls and itches as a response to my terror.


Cats amaze me sometimes.

I came home from PT this morning to shower and get ready from work, and I heard some noises coming from behind the washer and dryer. I knew immediately that it was a cat, and I assumed it was Mitzie. But when I took a peak back there, I instead spotted Tyger, who was desperately trying to find an escape. He was smart enough to realize right away that I was the only one he could turn to, and he obligingly gave me his paws to lift him out. As soon as I set him down, the ungrateful wretch went running for his hidey hole.

I don’t think he’ll be going back there again.

Viagra to enhance a ball player’s performance?! Where was this during the eighty-eight years that the evil Red Sox spent in a blessed funk?? (I am Yankees fan to the end.)

Fuck the Republicans. May they burn in the deepest, darkest pits of hell. Why the hell should these oil companies get such goddamned cushy tax breaks?? As if they need them!! Meanwhile, I make just enough to get by, get only $408 instead of the promised $600 tax rebate (and why?? Everyone else in my pay grade who is single got $600!!), and I don’t get any breaks. I’m sure if I asked for one, I’d be laughed at and kicked off of Capitol Hill. This government sucks at life.

This is unbelievable. An entire lake drained in a matter of days!! I’m having trouble trying to understand how it occurred, but I do feel a little sad at the loss of such a beautiful waterscape.

Hm. Jaws IV??

Best. Review. Evar.

OMG, this is insane. Who comes up with this stuff?!

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Fuck-mess. I'm keeping that one in my vocab.

So much to do, so little motivation to get it done. This fuck-mess of a file plan to organize, cleaning out the rest of my stuff from the house, unpacking, etc. Give me one good reason to give a damn that I could get behind for the time being until I drag myself from this funk. All I wanna do is read and play Guitar Hero/Rock Band to keep the eternal loneliness of my apartment and the never-ending racing thoughts in my brain at bay.

I think I know now why I am not too social around Rich’s friends, even when I’m in a good mood. I just can’t relate to them. Don’t get me wrong, they’re fun people that I genuinely like. But I can’t seem to get myself to move past the “acquaintance” phase into the “drinking buddy” or “genuine friend” phase with them. Every time Rich brings me around them, all they’re doing is drinking. And I love a stiff drink or three as much as the next person, but I need more than booze to help me bond with someone. And the joint outings consist of bars, more bars, Buffalo Wild Wings, and even more bars. It makes me nostalgic for all the non-alcoholic outings I used to have with my friends: City Museum, Cahokia Mounds, the movies, laser tag. (Alright, some drinking was involved, but that wasn’t the sole purpose of our coming together is the point I’m trying to make.) I miss hanging out with my friends, but it sucks when I do and I’m the only on present without his or her significant other. Rich doesn’t like my friends, and they don’t like him. Chris brings Rachel; Leach brings his ex, Michelle; Jae brings Cory. And I bring…myself. Great.

Plain and simple: I can’t bond over booze. Let’s go to the pool (went swimming once with Tom and Justin; great fun, even with the two of them sloshed as they were), Six Flags, Forest Park; any place where booze isn’t the only thing bringing us together. Then maybe we could move from one phase to the other, and I would no longer feel so left out at social gatherings.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Bill Cosby says we cannot blame the white people anymore.

I have no idea if Bill Cosby really said this, and I don't feel like verifying it, so bear this in mind as you read it. It came from an email forward. Shudder.

They're standing on the corner and they can't speak English. I can't even talk the way these people talk:
Why you ain't,
Where you is,
What he drive,
Where he stay,
Where he work,
Who you be...

And I blamed the kid until I heard the mother talk.

And then I heard the father talk.

Everybody knows it's important to speak English
except these knuckleheads. You can't be a doctor with that kind of crap coming out of your mouth.

In fact you will never get any kind of job making a decent living. People marched and were hit in the face with rocks to get an education, and now we've got these knuckleheads walking around.

The lower economic people are not holding up their end in this deal.

These people are not parenting. They are buying things for kids. $500 sneakers for what??

And they won't spend $200 for Hooked on Phonics.
I am talking about these people who cry when their son is standing there in an orange suit

Where were you when he was 2??

Where were you when he was 12??

Where were you when he was 18 and how come you didn't know that he had a pistol??

And where is the father?? Or who is his father?

People putting their clothes on backward:
Isn't that a sign of something gone wrong?

People with their hats on backward, pants down around the crack, isn't that a sign of something?

Or are you waiting for Jesus to pull his pants up?

Isn't it a sign of something when she has her dress all the way up and got all type of needles [piercing] going through her body? What part of Africa did this come from??

We are not Africans. Those people are not Africans; they don't know a thing about Africa .

With names like Shaniqua, Taliqua and Mohammed and all of that crap, and all of them are in jail.

Brown or black versus the Board of Education is no longer the white person's problem.

We have got to take the neighborhood back.

People used to be ashamed. Today a woman has eight children with eight different 'husbands' -- or men or whatever you call them now.

We have millionaire football players who cannot read.
We have million-dollar basketball players who can't write two paragraphs. We, as black folks have to do a better job. Someone working at Wal-Mart with seven kids, you are hurting us.

We have to start holding each other to a higher standard.

We cannot blame the white people any longer.

Murder and Mayhem in Liberty City.

Plotted and conducted meticulously by Rich and Steve for reasons that are beyond the grasp of my weak and feeble feminine intellect. Such as flying a helicopter as high as they can and jumping out to see who hits the ground first. Or lining up cars in front of a building so they can jump from the top and land on them. Or basically blowing each other's cars up with rocket launchers to see how far the other person flies before bouncing. I urged to Rich to deploy a rocket launcher against a no avail. Oh, the disappointment.

Again, if you're tired of the same old deathly techniques and scenarios, here's something to spice it up.

A question of politeness and genuine concern.

I often wonder if, when people ask what’s wrong, if they’re asking to be polite, or if they’re asking because they care. It’s hard for me to judge, so I usually respond with an automatic, “Nothing” or “I’m fine.” It’s like when you say to someone, “How are you today??” and they go into their whole pathetic life story. You ask because it’s polite and automatic. A few minutes of conversation is fine, but you’re not trying to give them an opening for confiding in you.

Hence my automatic response to the question, “What’s wrong??” After too many years of people not giving shit, it astounds me that here in the early years of my adult life, there are a handful of people who ask that, not to be polite, but because they genuinely care. I’m not used to it, it’s a foreign concept to me. All my young life people have confided in me, but when has anyone ever cared to listen to my problems?? Leach is the only one I usually truly confide in (there have been people here and there whom I’ve opened up to about a specific problem merely to get matters off my chest for a short period), yet oddly enough it’s never seemed foreign, as I said before. He’s just easy to shoot the shit with.

Anyone else, though, I usually tend to shy away from because of my deeply-ingrained insecurities. I’m terrified of making the mistake of opening up to the wrong person, making them feel awkward or giving them something they can use to hurt me.

When it comes to supervisors, forget it. I opened up to one once to TM. He did nothing at all. I know TH genuinely cared, so it was easy to talk to him, but in general it’s part of the job description for them to be “concerned” and to “look out for you”. GO was more or less hostile from beginning to end, and any confidence shared with him was forced. All he saw when he looked at me was an emotional mess who drank too much and didn’t do enough for work (and this was when my work ethic was at the top of it’s game!!). All he saw was the surface, and there was no way I was going to let him see even the first layer underneath, because he didn’t really care.

Then there’s Rich. I’d love more than anything to tell him every little thing that’s wrong in my world. But lately we’ve been having a lot of petty arguments (nothing serious, fortunately), and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I’m a woman, and as such I’m going to get upset over dumb shit. I hate to admit this, it seems so anti-feminist and mildly degrading to my gender, but it is in my nature as a woman to get upset over dumb shit. However, I am rational enough to see that whatever it is I am upset over is dumb and petty and not worth initiating a bloodbath over. Unfortunately, this line of rationality does not stop me from being upset or pissy or what have you. So the best thing I can do for all parties involved is to keep my mouth shut and lie through my teeth when asked if anything is wrong.

Unfortunately, Rich can see through these lies, and it pisses him off.

And I am truly sorry for that. Now, in my defense, I’m not pissed off nearly as often as everyone seems to think. I don’t know why, but ever since I was a teenager, if I’m pensive or bored, I get this hard look on my face that leads everyone around to assume that I am mad as hell. There’s nothing I can do to change that, I’m sorry. So, about seventy percent of the time that this look is on my face, I’m not really mad. Fifteen percent of the time I’m just fussy over something dumb that I’ll get over in a few hours, and the rest of the time I am truly upset over something that is important.

And I can’t change that. But I can adjust how I respond to these inquiries so that Rich no longer gets angry with me, and to weed out the ones who truly care from the ones who are just being polite.

I’ll be honest about being either bored or pensive. And if I’m bothered by something petty, I’ll be straight about it and assure concerned parties that it will pass. And if it’s serious, I’ll admit it; and depending on the concerned/polite person’s reaction, I’ll go from there. I really should start opening up when given the opportunity. The only way any problem will ever be resolved is if I share it and get input from those who truly care.

And another thing. Sometimes, I really really really want to confide, I really do. However, I force myself to pause and consider. The irrational part of me wants to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, and if I let that part of me rule my actions, all hell could break loose. I must give the rational part of me time to organize my scattered thoughts so that I may express myself in a coherent manner that will cause as little damage as possible. This also serves to help me look at the matter from all angles in case I’ve missed something. I refuse to irrationally explode over a problem that is not as big as it may initially seem and can be resolved with little or not fuss.

I guess this is why I write so much. It helps me organize my thoughts, and is a release for my destructive irrationality.

I don’t want to hold a grudge over something petty, and I want to be able to learn and move on from the serious stuff. I want to have a fresh start every day, no matter how bad things were the day before. I want to have a good day everyday, and just be happy. And I want to do my part to end this steady stream of petty momentary disputes that leave me in a bad mood that lingers for hours while Rich gets over it with lightning speed and moves on. (Ugh, I envy that in him.) Because as I was told by a very drunk Jay, Rich loves me and is very lucky to have me and I’m the best girlfriend he’s had since Jay’s known him, and I’m very lucky to have Rich and he knows I love him. (Ten thousand of Almighty Davi’s blessings on him; I adore Jay from here on out.) *grin*

Today is a new day, and it’s bright and sunny out, and I’m starting fresh. So I will patiently sit here and wait for Rich to wake his happy ass up so we can watch some 24 or play Rock Band.

On a completely different note, I miss my daddy and wish he could come see me for Father’s Day. Sigh. I miss my mommy, too, but she’s given me a vague promise to visit in the fall, so that will have to do for now.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Just spewing randomness.

Written between 1330 and 1420:

So, I got stuck in this stupid records custodian training today. I don't know why they require us to do both the online and classroom training; it's the same thing being taught to me twice. A lot of our training is like that these days; we're scheduled for a mandatory class, and the damn prerequisites demand that we do computer-based training (CBT) and bring the printed certificate to the class, wasting paper. It's redundant, therefore it is stupid in my opinion. The stupidity of those appointed over me never ceases to astound me.

Needless to say, I showed up for training with no certificate in hand, because I had failed the test and didn't have time to retake it, because I like to procrastinate.

Last night's misery is absent today, but I dread its impending reappearance upon my arrival at my cold, empty apartment (empty if you don't count those infernal demons disguised as innocent cats and hamsters).

(irrelevant paragraph removed)

(irrelevant statement removed)

I think I am developing spider veins. They're making an appearance on the backs of my knees, slowly but surely. The sight of them makes me feel old and unattractive...I'm only twenty-two!! They're hereditary, and my grandmother has them something fierce. They're also common in people who spend most of their days either sitting or standing. Well, hell, welcome to the Chair Force.

Just took a peak at the training slides out of curiosity. It's almost word-for-word what they teach in the blasted CBT. (expletive removed)

This class is the devil's work. And it's TWO HOURS LONG. The CBT was THREE HOURS LONG.

Eff you, eff you, eff you...

Living alone is starting to be the biggest disappointment of my early adult life, right under my divorce. And I don't think having cable and internet would make it any more bearable. It doesn't make up for the comfort and entertainment derived from human contact.

I hate revealing anything personal that my reveal my vulnerabilities. I can tell you why I'm lonely, and maybe even go into detail, but you won't catch me revealing the deeper, more heartrending reasons. I will show you the surface, and maybe a couple of layers beneath, but you'll likely never see the core of me. Those have are few and far between. You will never understand my insecurities, my inner demons, my moods, or my thought process.

But, oh, how I wish sometimes that I could expose it all, and damn the consequences...

Update at 1627: The class lasted less than hour. Hooray for small favors.

I hate being alone.

Currently obsessed with my new favorite blog, shh, don't startle the DRUNKEN HOUSEWIFE. It's affecting my work.

Yesterday sucked after work. I'm already sick of living alone. It's lonely and depressing. I forgot that I had already experienced living alone when the ex was deployed, and that sucked hardcore. Now I'm doing it all over again.

I tried calling Rich yesterday to see if I could stop by and grab some stuff, but also because the loneliness was becoming unbearable. I couldn't get a hold of him, his phone was off, and this made things worse for me. The queasiness from taking two bc pills at once earlier in they day didn't help. All these negative thoughts fly through my mind when I'm alone for too long, and it's such a mental and emotional torment.

Needless to say, I don't do well on my own. A disheartening realization.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Superheroes and cats.

Now, these are my kind of superheroes.

Today is destruction day in my office. I love destruction day; it relieves the stress of life. Basically, we take all the material that is no longer necessary, shred the paper material, and I get to beat the hell out of the plastic leftovers with my choice of hammer or hatchet. Today I was feeling the hammer. Oh, the joy.

As of yesterday afternoon, I am officially the crazy cat lady. I live alone in a two-bedroom with three cats. One bedroom for me, one bedroom for them. The apartment was listed as a one-bath, however these cats have made themselves a half-bath in the right-hand corner of my closet. I am attempting to get the situation under control before resorting to murder. Being the cat lady is one thing, but being the cat lady with a home that has the cat smell is unacceptable to me.

I was looking forward to being alone. But now I find it's...depressing. Ugh.

Didn't sleep as well as I would have liked last night; Tyger had the bright idea, two or three times during the night, to step on my face. Which I normally am fine with when the other two do it...but Tyger is still fully clawed. Ouch.

Twice yesterday I saved the same turtle from his/her impending doom when I pulled over to scoop him/her out of the road and return him/her to the lake. I did it in the morning as he/she was attempting to cross the road towards the apartments. When I went to Rich's after work, I saw him/her again, this time further out. This time my leg got soaked by his/her turtle water, yuck. But it was well worth it knowing that I had saved this daring turtle's life not once, but twice. I hope the ungrateful bastard stays in his/her lake.

I have had so much stuff on my mind lately, and it's really bringing me down. I wish I could empty my brain out, but I'm sure it would fill right back up again. I wish I had someone to talk to about all of it, but at the same time the last thing I wanna do is share any of this with the usual confidantes. A quandary indeed.