I just need to type. I'm hoping this will turn into a relevant post of some sort, but then, I may end up dumping it, just like I've done with so many of them in the past.
Plus, I'm typing on Mark's computer, and I hate this tiny thing...well, mainly just for typing. It's like typing on a fucking Listerine breath strip. It's tiny and delicate, buuuuut I don't actually think it smells like that.
Anyway, I've been talking to this guy, Chad, and he's such a nice guy (get this - FROM HUNTSVILLE. Eh, you win some, you REALLY lose some). Sometimes I don't know how I should go about mentioning people from my life in my blog. But, only I really know who I'm talking about. There are times it matters, but there are times where it's so obscure and irrelevant, because it could only apply to one of two people in my life - and those are only meaningful to me.
Ha, I just realized that I was automatically typing for my blog. &=D Weirdy-o.
So, I've been thinking about my li'l CSA. And, I've been thinking about my writing. And, I've been thinking about my love of helping and loving. And I've been wondering where all this is leading. Semi-recently (days, maybe?),I've come into the moderate maturation that money (alliteration - hmmm) is never going to be okay in my life. As much as I strive and press to pay off my monetary debt to society, and it's societal dictators, it doesn't really mean anything. It's not going to make my friends or family love me any less (although, if I don't stop borrowing, I may not have any friends left - SORRY, GUYS!) It's not going to cause people to decide against attending my funeral: "Well, I'd go, buuuut she had REALLY bad credit." It's definitely not going to stop me at the gates of Heaven ("Credit check? Are you serious?"), although they may be SHOVING me through the gates of Hell.
My mom and I struggled with money my whole life. From the time I was "old enough" (I'm talking like 8), I would get paid for various things I'd do around the paper. She was already instilling in me that incredibly dedicated work ethic, with which I could insure my independence.
*Incidentally, and you might want to spot-clean those rose-colored glasses, while I mention this, but it feels so good to finally be able to type, when I'm stoned. I keep missing out on some of the incredibly instrospective shit, that helps me come to terms with different total CRAP in my life. This isn't like Jerry's fucking "I have led an amazing life" speech. (And, to my family member who ALWAYS gives me crap for this, YES, me use smart words AND me use dirty words. GET. OVER. IT.)
This is more along the lines of helping me cope with some of the really tough things I'm going through. Granted, Mark's beloved stepfather, Pawpaw, is hanging on to his last delicate, gossammar strand of life, as I type this; my friend Tommy's best friend's mom (ha - that strand of people made me laugh) has cancer and is currently fighting for her life; and my friends Tina's and Emily's dads just had their own personal battles to remain of this world. Makes this whole Jerry-fucking-Alabama-and-you-over thing seem kinda trite.
And, that's what makes me wonder why I should still follow through with this.
I think it's because I keep thinking of our 800+ customers, so many personal relationships I'd developed with so many wonderful people. I keep thinking of Jerry Marsh and Juan and Robert and Dulsey Hamlett and the cheese lady... I keep thinking about the employees who are STILL THERE, that I love dearly, who are still suffering at that "job." I keep thinking of sitting in Tina's office, all excited, breathlessly talking to her about finding some way to go out into local poor parts of the community and being able to lift those people up - OUR people. I think about Patty's idea to get everyone linked, and Ken's idea to be able to get everything from within fifty miles of your home; keeping all that money in our state, helping lift the people out of poverty, improving the lives and relationships of scores of people around the state and, possibly, the country. I even think of Ang's sweet face, how excited she always was, when she would do the weekly video.
I actually dream of doing better.
I'm being tossed around like a cliché plastic sack in an American Beauty wind. It makes me tired, thinking about what possibly lay ahead of me. I don't mind working, but THIS? This NIGHTMARE? I'd give anything for this part to be over and done with (nope, not settling, by the by, so don't bother offering). Di said it was vengeance, but it's not. I feel like people should know. If you're going to support a corrupt product or organization, then, by all means, go ahead. But, be COMPLETELY AWARE of what it is you're supporting. Be FULLY INFORMED about the product, or the person who runs it, or where your money's going. Even *I'M* not that informed, but after this, I'm definitely going to be more careful. It's hard for me to work at Joe's Crab Shack...not that they're corrupt. But, let's just say, coming out of the medical field and going into the service industry - YIKES. *runs to the bathroom to wash hands YET again*
Even in medicine, whenever I had a patient come in,who was either unhappy with us or another doctor, I ALWAYS encouraged them to seek a second opinion. I wish we'd done that with Mom. Not that she'd still be here, but at least maybe her illness and suffering wouldn't have been so traumatic and painful.
As a sidenote, like Chad said, when Jerry tells people he gave himself cancer by working too hard, it's TOTAL disrespect to the people who still HAVE cancer. I want to tell him, "No, YOU have cancer, because God knows you're a horrible person, and you deserve to die a shitty, suffering death."
Okay, no, that's probably not it (he's a chronic smoker). Not all bad people get cancer, and, obviously, not all people who get cancer are bad - but sometimes, it totally goes right, in the case of Jerry. Thankfully, I don't think he's ever gone into remission. Chide me for saying that, but there's only been one other person whose death I've celebrated. Let me vent. Doesn't make it right. Just means you're too sensitive to be ON MY BLOG READING THIS GOODBYE. I understand the differences between right and wrong, and you don't have to like the roundabout way I come to my conclusions. But, step the fuck off. I don't come up in your house or your Facebook and tell YOU what to do.
Plus, and I know some of you have noticed this, this whole Jerry thing has really caused me to lose respect in a LOT of people. Unfortunately, it's causing me to turn INTO those people. Thankfully, though, I think it's just temporary (God, I hope so - anger doesn't suit me). I'm over having people push me around. I'm done with other people telling me how it's going to be. I'm past the point of letting other people talk down to me, the way they feel is appropriate, when I highly disagree. I AM DONE WITH THIS PART OF MY LIFE. I may be slightly passive aggressive (I hate this quality in ANYONE), because I don't care for confrontation, but if there was a problem, yo', I'll solve it. Check out the hook, while my DJ revolves it.
Break it up, hey?
I like to fix problems, if I know there's one. This is why Joe's is driving me crazy. The second day I shadowed, one of the supers brought us in the back and totally REAMED us about talking shit about each other (which we weren't). I'd mentioned something about the fact that my trainer, who, incidentally, was some punk-ass high school kid - yay - was being really rude to me (which was highly unnecessary), and she totally ripped us all new ones, saying, "we don't talk shit about each other, and if you do, then you won't be working here." They TOTALLY talk shit about each other - ALL THE TIME. I know all of who hates everyone else and why, and he NEVER does his sidework, and ohmigod, she's such a bitch, and what kind of idiot does it take to be a hostess? JESUS. H. CHRIST. It started the DAY I came in the fill out paperwork.
There's a reason that I get along better with the Mexicans than I do anyone else - I CAN'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT THEY'RE SAYING. And, I'm sure I probably don't want to know. Plus, they're a whole lot nicer. And, there's always that possibility that it's because I'm a chick, but AT LEAST THEY'RE NICE.
God. SEE??? This is what I'm always getting at - ALWAYS. With me, you'll get SOOOOOOOOO much farther with being nice. Being a dick gets you nothing. NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!! And, being a bitch for an extended period of time will more than likely get you a swift kick in the pussy. We've ALL seen that happen.
I'm tired. My writings these days are nothing more than inane stream-of-consciousness ramblings of a very tired and very full mind. There's no subject and really no point. Just getting it out. Just recording it for later, since I have this NEED to save things. (God, of all the things to change on me, take away my desperate need to save the past!)
I'm going to lay down. Chad and I have been texting, and I haven't gotten a text back in a few minutes, so I'm assuming he's wound himself deep in his new, furry blanket from Marshall's and fallen into a deep, comfortable, well-earned slumber.
I hope to soon follow suit.
Only problem with smoking, though - it makes me think WAY TOO HARD about cookies (don't judge me).
I love you, cookies (I said, don't judge me).
And, I love you, people. &=)
So much to be done, but for now, I rest.