Jennifer vs. The Job Market

Post 500, and I will go ahead and apologize that it will not be monumental, nor groundbreaking.

We just back from seeing Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and I can easily say it was one of my favorite movies EVER. I would like to see it in the theatre again (about 50 times), but I guess we'll have to wait for the dollar theatre...since we're broke, and it's about to leave the cinema, anyway.

It's one of those movies that I could watch at any time, and it could cheer me up, IMMENSELY. I adored the music. I loved the people. I was rapt with all the CGI stuff they did.

It. Was. AWESOME!

Now, to bed. Work in the morning, where I will put in my 2-week notice. The bastard who works up front has been stealing my tips. I've caught him twice, but I refuse to besmirch myself by being a tattle-tail. Every time I do that at jobs (be labelled the "boat-rocker"), I get this horrible reputation that I'm never able to live down. So, I'm leaving this one behind - at least no bridge burning. It's the least I can do, with as horribly as my life is going right now.

I can do better. And, I will suffer greatly before relief comes. But, I will do better...for myself.

Where were you?

On September 11, 2001, I was on my way to Children's Hospital. It was my first real job after I'd graduated as a tech, and I'd been there for only a few months. When I got to work, a lady on the elevator said, "Isn't that awful about the Twin Towers?" I said, "Yeah...wait. What? What happened?" She said, "A plane apparently went off course and crashed into one of the towers!...all those people..." I had no idea - I guess I'd been listening to a CD or something on the way to work (back when I HAD a stereo in my car).

When I got to work, and I was passing through CT, that was the first time I'd seen a news report. I went and got my phone and called my aunt Amy. I stood there, clutching the phone, and we watched together in horror as the second plane crashed into the second tower, and subsequently, as the first tower collapsed. She and I cried on the phone together and told each other how much we loved each other.

Aside from physically being with my family, there's nowhere else in the world I would have rather been.

I love you, Amy. Thanks for being the main memory of my 9.11.

Blog about your day - Take 1

Shleepy.

I just got back from babysitting someone's five chilluns tonight...and I made twice what I made from working seven hours at the restaurant today - AND this asshole stole my tip today.

I fucking hate that job.

With a FIERY PASSION.

I'm going to bed. ArtWalk with Bryan tomorrow afternoon, then slave labor from 5p-2a.

NOT looking forward to this. This week has been a complete suckfest. It seems the more I work, the busier it is, the harder I bust my ass, the LESS I bring home.

God, PLEASE make this be more temporary than I had first hoped...

Lost Child

I lost my puppy today.

No worries, though - he's back safe, now, and sleeping soundly in his beloved crate (his "house"). I know people think crating is horrible, but had we not been at it for over a year and he not retreat there EVERY time he's tired or in trouble, I would have definitely reconsidered.

He's been such a good boy, since we've moved. It's weird. He's a changed dog. I actually think he likes it here. He gets to go outside and play in the backyard (and, apparently, the crawl space) whenever he gets antsy. I wasn't sure how he'd take to backyarding it, but he's done really well.

Until today.

I actually left work about ten minutes early, with a HORRIBLE stomach ache, drove home exhausted and completely ready to fall apart, once I reached my bedroom. I came in, threw my crap on the bed, and dropped onto the mattress. Booboo came in to greet me, and looked up at me and meowed.

"That's weird. She NEVER talks, unless something's up."

That's when I realized that I couldn't hear Jack. I got up, walked into the kitchen (where said "house" is), and saw his crate empty. Mark was gone, and Ryan was at work, and I immediately got FURIOUS with Mark, for leaving him out, when he had left the house. Not a smart move in a city with a high crime rate, especially for stealing nice, pretty doggies who are fun to play with. I looked out the window to the backyard, but didn't see him. He likes to stay in this weird area next to the house, that still has fence around it, so I figured he was there. I walked outside, called his name.......nothing.

I went to the side of the house, peered into the brush and couldn't see him. I TRIED not to freak, so I came inside to call Mark, to see if maybe he took Jack to the dog park and forgot to tell me. Mark's phone went to voicemail...like, five times. I texted him. Then, I Facebooked him. Then, I started worrying. He texted me back and said, "he's in the backyard."

At that moment, I went off the charts. It was that whole "I thought he was with you" statement, that makes your heart fall into your feet and you hear that screaming in your head, only to realize that the sound is actually issuing from your mouth.

I called Mark and simultaneously tore outside, screaming Jack's name. The elementary school across the street was letting out, so I thought for sure he'd be over at the playground, with the kids. He's a TOTAL social butterfly like that - way more than his mom will ever be. Mark was telling me how he'd left him in the backyard and checked on him before he left, and I tried not to curse too much, since I was kind of phasing in and out on what he was saying and concentrating more on finding Jack. I ran back through the alleyway, next to the house, and broke through to the other street. There was a lady loading things into her car, and she obviously heard my frantic screaming (and saw my frantic hair), and said, "Hey, did you lose a dog? He's over here! He's been hanging out with me for about 30 minutes!" I started crying when she first said that, and I said, "a big, brown one???," and she said, "Oh! No....he's little and white, with black spots..." I described him to her, told him he was wearing all his ID (his driver's license, as we call it) and to call the phone number on the tag, if she saw him. Then, I took off towards the car.

I jumped in the car and literally drove up and down every, single street in the Glen Iris area. I was on the phone with Bryan at the time, and I was screaming his name like a crazy person. I circled the school several times (places with people), I drove back to our old apartment (places we lived), I looked in the pool (places he wouldn't be able to get out of), I drove back to the dog park (places he loved) - I even got out of the car and waded through the creek that circles the dog park, shrieking like a banshee. I know people thought I was insane. I went back to our old house and circled the block, where we would walk every afternoon, when he was a baby. Nothing. I drove to Dreamland (places that smelled good), I went back to Vickie's (places he'd remembered), I visited the house of every, single dog we'd ever played with in that area, but he was nowhere. I sat at the light on Green Springs, took my seatbelt off, climbed halfway out the window and SCREAMED his name over the roar of the traffic. Everywhere I went, I kept expecting to see him come bounding through the bushes or down the hill or from behind someone's house, with that juicy, pink tongue in tow. And, it seemed that everywhere I went, EVERYONE had seen a dog...but it was that same little white dog...and he wasn't mine.

I was frantic. I came home, after about an hour of searching and posted a desperate message on Facebook. My friend Mindy was online (thank God) and sprung into action. She reposted his picture, my message and a note, requesting people to share and keep a look out. I left the house, again. Mark had called, saying when he went to pick Ryan up from work, they ran out of gas in Southside, so they were walking back. I'm pretty sure I just hung up on him - I was distressed, distracted, and livid. The last thing I cared about was them (sorry). I started casing Glen Iris again, moving a little closer to Five Points. Still nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Everywhere I went, absolutely nothing.

Finally, about 20 minutes or so, after I got off the phone with Mark, he called me back. (Bryan had been calling intermittently, to check to see if I'd had any luck.) All I heard was, "Hey! I found him!" The person behind me almost rear-ended me, when I slammed on my brakes (I'm sorry, person). I yelled back at Mark, "WHERE WAS HE???? WHERE ARE YOU????," and he simply said, "Home!"

I was way over towards the police station, and I tore into someone's driveway, backed out, and ended up back at what I SWEAR was the longest light in the history of the universe and got behind the SLOWEST person ever. All my windows were all the way down, and I screamed at the top of my lungs, "CAN YOU DRIVE ANY F*%&ING SLOWER??!?!?!??"

I wheeled around the "Do Not Enter" sign they had put on the street next to the school (yes, I was watching for kids - don't prosecute me) and tore sideways into the driveway. I jumped out of the car, fell out of my shoes coming on to the porch, and slid inside. There he stood, at his water bowl, sucking up water like it was going out of style. He looked and wagged when he heard me, but turned around and resumed his water funneling. I grabbed him and hugged him and cried and hugged his heinie while he drank water and grabbed him up again and fussed and cried some more...it was a very emotional time for me. &=\

Mark said he'd been at the house the whole time. When he and Ryan got home, Mark checked the backyard and went into that weird place next to the house - I can't explain it, except that it's about as wide as one of us, extends almost the length of the house and is COMPLETELY overgrown with weeds, brush, vines and cockleburs, or whatever those tiny, brown things are that get stuck on your clothes. We waded all the way the end, and almost at the end is a SECOND crawl space, big enough for maybe a small ten-year-old to fit through. Mark said he'd come all the way down, to see if he had dug his way out (he doesn't dig, and I'm not entirely sure he knows how - he's a very sheltered dog), or if there was a break in the fence, and when he looked down, he saw his tiny, light brown face, peering out of the hole of the crawl space, making no noise at all. Mark said Jack was wedged in there, and he literally had to PULL him out from between the concrete blocks. We'd had no idea how he'd managed to get in there in the first place.

I stood there and hugged Mark and cried forever, wailing, "THANK YOU FOR FINDING MY DOG!!!!!!!"

So, happy ending for once, to my day.

We have no idea what's under the crawl space, why it's making the band room smell like dead bodies, or why it keeps eating my pets (Booboo was it's first victim), but we're going to find out tomorrow...when one of us finds a working flashlight.

Until then, everyone's home and safe and sleeping, which is the way I want to keep it.

Aside from that, Jack's been eerily quiet, since Mark pulled him out. He laid with his head in my lap for about 15 minutes, which is unusually placid for him. And, during the band's practice and Joseph coming by to check on him, Mark said he didn't make a peep, which is ALSO very strange. After practice, and after Bryan came and went, Jack laid in the floor and seemed to just stare off in the distance. We kept making jokes about what he must have been going through under there and what had he seen that seemed to have traumatize him so? I'm sure he was probably just exhausted from being stuck under the hot house for two hours, listening to me scream his name around the neighborhood (he NEVER barks unless he's bored, so I'm sure he didn't know how to respond), being rescued, and then band practice (he functions as the audience or peanut gallery, now)....but it's still weird.

Jack, what IS under the house?

????????????????

Bottom of the Barrel...

...or bottle, whichever I hit first. Actually, I told Bryan last night, after Mark destroyed my bed, that I feel like I'm laying at the bottom of a disgusting trash can with my mouth open, and life is just showering me with garbage.

I always feel a little self-conscious, talking about this crap, but I have to.

I've reached a NEW low. It happened last night, in the rush to get everything moved, and as Bryan and Mark were moving my bed frame down the mountain, Bryan said Mark was shifting too hard, and part of the bed frame jumped out of the back of the truck (yeah, I just anthropomorphized my bed - deal) and skidded down the hill.

I don't know if you've actually ever seen someone lose her shit over a bed - and I did not - but I did have to leave the house. Disregarding my fears of living in this part of town, I stopped caring, and I walked outside and down the sidewalk, for about two blocks, and planted myself on someone's front steps. I sat there and seriously considered my place in this world. I considered and reconsidered and then decided that this move, into this house, with Mark, was a TERRIBLE idea.

Let me clarify - it's not just about the bed. I mean, don't get me wrong - the scarring of a $3000 bed, that's been in near-pristine condition for almost a decade, does WORLD'S of fucking with a miserly middle-aged lady's mind. Considering it's the only NICE piece of furniture I own (which was my mistake, I assure you, but, again, it was a decade ago, so give me a little leeway), I kinda wanted to keep it that way. Had I the moolah to run out and buy a new, giant, good-for-your-back bed, I'd totally do it. I'd throw caution to the wind and buy that bed!

But - and this is where the "where the hell is she going with all this" comes into play - I have no idea what to do with the rest of my life. None. I'm completely out of ideas. I have a degree in x-ray...but I can't stay here (in Birmingham) and be a grunt for the rest of my life. I don't want to.

My original plan was to move to San Francisco and start working on getting a degree in computers. What kind? I don't know. Whatever. Then, "some guy" was telling me that that's the worst decision I could make, going into computers, that by the time I get done, it's going to be like x-ray, the field is going to be saturated, etc, etc. Not that "some guy" is going to tell me what to do with my life. But, it just made me nervous. Plus, my grandmother isn't doing well, and while I'm not actually helping my family out by sitting here blogging, I know Amy and Diane are running themselves ragged, taking care of Grammy, and I can do nothing from where I am. Amy's exhausted, working AND taking care of Grammy, and I know Diane's exhausted, but she's also seriously getting on my grandmother's nerves, which irks me. I'm not even going to go why, because *I* know why, and that's all that matters.

When the attack (by Jerry) first happened, I sent out an email to my loved ones, explaining what had happened and expressing my concern for a.) nearly throwing my life away on a fraudulent company and the indecision of what to do next, and b.) the concern that I was taking him to court as merely an act of revenge, something to which I'm not accustomed. I received all of this positive feedback (most of it only inspirational, yet not very directional) from everyone, except Diane. She sent me something back that simply said, "You don't want to know what I think." Putting all of my misgivings about our arguments over religion and her short-sightedness of the world in general in the past, I wrote her back and said (to paraphrase), "No, I sent this to you for a reason. You're family, I love you, and I want to know what you think." So, she wrote me back once again and said, "If you want to change the world, you need to come home and take care of your grandmother."

I actually can't remember if I've blogged about this already, so if I have, forgive me and just skip this part.

Haha, repeating that even NOW makes my blood boil. In fact, it makes me laugh, it's so...I don't know. When MY MOTHER was sick, I took care of her. I held down a full-time job (until they forbade me from leaving one time, when she had been taken to the ER - that's when I put my foot down and quit), I went to school full-time, and I moved with her, back and forth, from the hospital to the house, whenever it became necessary. I know I was a youngin' back then, and I had a LOT more energy. I also had Aaron at the time, to help me do a lot of the running back and forth from Pell City to the hospital. The only time I would ever ask anyone to look in on my mother was when I was at work or school. 99% of the time, I did everything myself, which includes changing her diaper, helping her on and off the bedpan or potty chair, going to and from the bathroom, scouring the city for the only foods she could stomach, while she was on chemo, driving to and from home, to pick up bills, take care of the cat and run whatever errands were necessary. Simply put, I just did whatever I had to do.

So, here I am, only recently 33, newly dating someone, new job making very little money, working like a dog, still desperately seeking employment that will allow me to support myself, looking STILL to find my place in the world and develop a life of my own. Now, I know 33 is getting up there, but for the love of all that's holy, my life isn't OVER. So, according to Diane, I should just give up my semblance of a life and come home, to the town I loathe, and settle down and take care of my grandmother, HER mother.

And, I'll tell you why that is. It's because she ONLY wants to function as a grandmother. She doesn't want to do anything but do stuff with Katy and the kids. Diane's always going on about how Katy constantly needs help with the boys. And, I'm not faulting Kate AT ALL. Kate's an adult. She had three kids on her own. I'm pretty sure she can take care of them. Amy had four of 'em, no job (like Kate), and Mark worked full-time (and then some), and they did just fine. She'd ask for help from us, whenever she really needed it. I understand people need help. I'm one person, and I need help sometimes. But, the fact that she would pin this solely to MY chest, to wear like a badge of shame REALLY PISSES ME OFF. Well, I say solely - she talks plenty of shit about Amy, too, so I shouldn't say it's just me. In fact, she's the biggest shit-talking "righteous and upright" Christian I know. She preaches all this crap to everyone's faces, but she sure as hell can't follow through on her game. I know she's old and tired - fuck, *I'M* old and tired. The government and church family aren't taking care of me. The fact that I've had to be on unemployment DISGRACES me. The fact that I have a degree and NOTHING to show for it, makes it hard for me to look people in the eye. I have a lot of pride for someone who deserves nothing. I mean, what makes me special? Not one fucking thing. But, I know I'd rather be able to take care of myself with full-time work and pay for my own health insurance than have to worry others with the task. This move has been humiliating, to say the least. While Mark (my roomie) destroyed my bed and has broken several of my things, including my will to live, he's been the one supporting us with his student loan money. I mean, I supported him, back when he first moved in with me, and as I always say, if I had unlimited resources, I'd totally take care of everyone; not a complaint would escape my lips. The fact that I have NOTHING, at this point in my life, is very difficult for me to deal with.

Uhhhhhh, all my stories are starting to cross. But, see, this is what's happening in my mind! This is why I'm turning crazy again! I'm finding less and less reason to pull out of this funk.

So, this is where I'm at....

My absolute first priority is to find a job that will allow me to stand on my own two feet. That's not happening fast enough, so I'm FORCED to keep what I have (waiting tables at a Nazi dinner camp). I'm making $2.50/hr there, and SOMETIMES I bring home $30 in tips. You do the math.

After that, I've got to figure out where I'm going to live: Pell City? Stay here in Birmingham? Pick up and move to San Francisco? For the record, I'm still leaning towards Frisco, but I'm also having the debacle of "will my family resent me for leaving?" I don't know, but I DO know that I have to be able to take care of myself, and me moving home to HELP take care of Grammy (I'm not doing it on my own, when there are others who are able to assist), and still not having work, whether it's in Bham or Pell, is going to do NO ONE any good.

After that, I've got to figure out what I'm going to do with my life. I have very little that's keeping me alive right now. I'm still hoping for a fiery car crash or something quick and semi-painless. I have a LOT for which I'm thankful...but that doesn't mean it's necessarily keeping me here. I know that's a horribly selfish thing to say, but I'm not exactly in a keen frame of mind at the moment, so you'll have to not judge me on this.

I told Bryan last night, that he's one of the few bright spots in my life right now. So much is changing, and a lot of it isn't incredibly positive. He's really been helping me deal, and I don't know if he knows how much he's been keeping me sane. While my pets are typing me down somewhat, I still wouldn't give them up. For that, you can judge me, but I assure you, I won't care. I don't have kids, so I'm that sicko who cares for her pets like kids.

Shit. Roomie Mark is in Clay, so I'm going to have to cut this blog short (not that it was making any sense at this point). He took my debit card, and I've got to have it, to go rent that fucking carpet cleaner, to clean the carpet at the apartment. Thank God the new place doesn't have any carpet...but then again, I don't know how long I'm going to last here...

More later.

Blog-less

Need to blog.

Need to blog.

Need to blog.

Need to blog.

Need to blog.

Need to blog.

Need to blog.

Need to blog.

Mark's getting his student loan check soon, so he's going to get my computer fixed. And, we'll be moving and getting all set up soon, so I'll be able to refocus all my energies into other things (this).

Blog, I miss you.

Time flies when you're crazy

Yi, yi, yi.

I know. A month.

I've really been wanting to post, but I haven't been making the time. I haven't been making much time for things I feel I need to do lately.

Also, it doesn't help that I don't have the letter U on my keyboard. So, my keystroke to type a U is very deliberate, and it throws me off my rapid typing skillz.

My Grammy is in the hospital, and she gave us a real scare. I still don't have a job and can't get a hold of unemployment (there's that U, again), because they're trying to cut me off. And, I'm seeing someone. It's like someone has ripped the pages of my life out of my life book, stood on the side of a windy precipice and just tossed them over.

I'm going to update. And, I'm going to try to force myself to do it more frequently. Not even for people to read, but because it helps me.

If I don't, I'm going to have to at least buy one of those nice, white jackets, because insanity is RULING over here.

Blog, I shall return...

How to break a heart in 3 days

Eventually, this will stop happening.

Eventually, I'll have to stop doing this to myself.

What - feeling? Stop...feeling? Stop...opening yourself up? Stop everyone ELSE from breaking your heart? Will I suddenly become a better judge of my life overnight? Will I magically stop making mistakes?

Naturally, that's not going to happen.

My breath of fresh air was snuffed out before it was even fully realized.

Wait. No. I take that back. I realized it. It was just laced in deception, as it usually is.

It didn't mean to be, though. It's just that whole "wrong place, wrong time/right place, wrong time/right thing, wrong universe" bullshit that gets me EVERY FUCKING TIME. There's not ONE FUCKING TIME IN THE LAST TEN MISERABLE FUCKING YEARS that this hasn't come out of the blue and struck me from the sky.

Greener? Where?

I don't know that I care anymore.

Trust me - it will happen, though.

"One last time, Jen. Just ONE LAST TIME. Put yourself out there. Put your heart on the line. This is IT, yo. THIS. IS. IT. This is the time that's going to put all those other times to some hardcore shame. This is going to be so beautiful, you're already wondering how you've lived without it."

Hey.

People?

Universe?

God?

Can we give me a break? Please? Can we possibly stop bending me over and fucking me? Can we just ASSUME for one brief moment that I, TOO, am a human being, with feelings and the like? Let's play the whole "would you want someone to do this to you?" game. I'm already well-aware of the fact that there is no ONE perfect human being for every ONE person on this earth.

(I already played that game and lost miserably. I had the perfect one, and I stomped that fucker's heart into the ground. Then, I had the next best thing, and I just threw that one to the wolves, without even flinching. Let's just pretend I REMEMBER ALL OF THAT, EVERY, SINGLE DAY, and that I've learned a few things from all of this...)

But, Jesus-God Almighty.......CAN I BORROW ONE??????? ONE OF THE FUCKING 6.8 BILLION PEOPLE IN THE KNOWN WORLD???? I'm not looking for adoration from thousands, or even hundreds...hey, not even tens! Just one. ONE. Is that too much to ask? Is it just not the right time? Can someone just TELL ME it's not the right time? Can we make this a little more obvious? You guys KNOW I'm not into reading signs and signals and all that bullshit. In fact, I HATE it. I need forthrightness and honesty. I need integrity and forgiveness. I need one goddamn person to be on the level with me...FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES.

And, I think it's BULLSHIT for people to have to "LEARN" to be okay on their own. I think it's OKAY for people to need other people. For the love of Christ, it's how God intended us to be. There's a reason we PAIR UP. There's a reason for all that loneliness and attraction and dating and hugs and looking forward to seeing one person above EVERYONE ELSE.

If I could just stop fucking it up, when I get it.

And, I was going to do it right this time.

I was going to do right by everyone.

But, deception is a whore, and she gets me every goddamn time.

The prospect of an ultimate love never fails to cloud my vision and blind me in shining hope.

I was blinded. You hurt me, TERRIBLY.

Yet, it's going to take me immense energies (that I don't have) and a very long time (that I don't want to give) to get past this, where you don't consume my every thought.

You.

A stranger.

The unnamed.

The runner on the trail.

For the first time in three days, I went a whole 24 hours without seeing him, and it physically hurt.

God, I've GOT to stop giving of myself freely. I HAVE to. It's chipping away at my already feeble psyche.

I guess I should start making people try harder.

That's it. I'm throwing down the gauntlet for a relationship. If you want to talk to me, you have to pass through the fiery pits of hell. Not because I have anything against you, per se. But, because I can't keep letting people take and take. I've only recently come back from being a shell of a human being. Let's not help perpetuate that. It's not healthy - for me, and I can assure you that it will cause me to make YOUR life a living hell, albeit inadvertently.

Tip for the n00bs, FROM the experienced:

DON'T talk to someone else, if you're already in a relationship, no matter how troubled it may be. No amount of justification will make it right - I CAN ASSURE YOU. Man the fuck up and deal with what needs to be dealt with. Don't be a Godzilla in someone else's life. PRETEND that you give a shit about anyone else's feelings aside from your own. Don't be a selfish bastard. Remember that they have people attached to them as well, who could get hurt in your wake.

It doesn't mean that I always make the right decisions - I don't, and I haven't. I'm STILL learning (although you'd think 32 years of fucking things up might give you a slight idea about what's going on - it doesn't).

I want so badly to be angry at him. But, I can't.

*sigh*

And, I won't.

It's no longer part of my nature.

I just wish I could have guided him to a safe place, possibly been a better example, since I've been where he is. But, it was me, putting myself out on the line, just that one last time.

And, for three glorious days, it was magnificent.

And, despite what I'm currently going through, I was happier than I'd been in a really long time.

Back to life, though, huh? Back into the dank, shit-filled pit of the world of being alone. Sorry I stayed gone for so long, Loneliness. I'm sure you missed me.

Wish I could say the same............................................................

Exercise IS good for something

I met the most fascinating creature on Vulcan Trail yesterday.

It was a man.

And, he's incredible.

I hope to be able to tell you more about him, but I suppose time will tell, huh? &=)


For the record, first HOT guy who's ever semi-approached me (I was running, and he stopped me) and asked me out. (Let me reiterate and ENFORCE this: I did not FALL ONTO him, I didn't fall over the bridge on the trail and into the woods, and I didn't even have to feign a broken ankle to get him to stop and help me. HE stopped ME. *grins proudly*)

These things don't happen to me. Am I finally back in the favor of the universe? As much as I kid about God hating me, I don't actually think that He does. But, I do think my "planet" might be going through an asteroid field right now.

I'll tell you this: he has a secret job and the most incredible eyes.

*teehee*

Okay, enough of this girlish behavior. I have the ass of life to kick.

You might want to back up for this.


Eh, a sidenote, I quit Joe's. I just couldn't go back. I've never, in my life, just stopped going to a job. But, after last night...I just couldn't. I got OUT of an oppressive environment to get back into another one. That's a no-go. I will bend this world to function on my terms.

Sorry, world, but you're going to have to be a little nicer to me than that.

Love ya'll. Here's some huggies to get you through your individual rough days - God knows we all need them - and each other.
*HUGS*

As the cards bend and fold, the house will crumble

Emily sent a note out, saying Ang had put in her 2 weeks (actually 3 weeks) notice at the warehouse. Turns out, Jerry is giving her 1 week and having her work only half days. This is so typical of him. Also, Bongo texted me and said she had gotten fired, because she had taken vacation and not told Jerry (but I'm pretty sure Ang, HER supervisor, knew). This is just his way of "cleaning house," and getting new people in there who have no clue what's going on, God love them.

On the upside, Ken sent this, and it's been very inspiring to read (over and over, again):

"This is indeed very good news. She will be very difficult to replace. I would say that this is the beginning of the end of , at least with Jerry Spencer at the helm. I hold the vision that a new organization will grow out of the ashes. We have the passion. We have the talent. We have the integrity. We have the vision. We have the customers. We have the farmers. We have all of the creative genius we need to accomplish anything we set out to create. We shall not fail.

The universe supports us in our commitment to right livelihood and making the planet a more sustainable and regenerative place to live. Let go and enjoy the process. Know that we are being supported on all levels and that this is our time. We are the change that we've been waiting for!

Mediocrity is not an option as we move into the new planetary paradigm and manifest the Garden of Eden. The kingdom of heaven within and without is unfolding before our eyes."

THIS is why I choose to keep going.

Just let me vent...

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.

&=P

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.

*groan*

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.

Love through text

*Hey, the formatting and pics are all botched, but I'm posting the text anyway. I'll have to fix everything later. Please return at a later time for a more pleasurable reading experience.*



It's always been rather hard to communicate effectively through text.

Every once in a while, though, I get something where I can actually feel the feelings pouring through the phone.

Last night, Cory tried to call me, to talk, after he found out what happened, and I pressed ignore and texted, "I can't talk to you right now, because if I open my mouth, I'm going to start crying. Sorry." He immediately texted back with, "ohhhhh, I LOVE YOU!," then again with, "It's okay. Just know I love you."

Saved those.

When I was getting ready to start my job at Joe's, my aunt, Amy, texted me and said, "Just telling you good luck about the new job...I want you to get on your feet a little and then find something you really want to do - not these kind of jobs you get just to get by. But, I totally understand - I'm just proud of you for pushing through and making SOMETHING happen instead of someone else doing everything for you and you know who the people are I'm talking about!!!" I was bawling when I read that, and I texted her back and told her how I still feel like a scared little girl, without her mama. She came back with, "Mama or not, you're a grown woman who has a mind and a heart and you're making decisions that keep you going and keep you real! Not in that fantasy world of someone else taking care of you because you're down and out! You will turn it all around and with your writing ability, you'll probably write a book soon!!!"

That last part made me laugh. &=) But, yes, I saved all of those.

I still have one saved from her, from October 17, 09, that I look at all the time, that simply says (txt jargon and all), "Luv u 2- ttys! :-X"

I don't know what pulls me to one person or another. The ability to relate? The magnetism of their realness? I haven't a clue.

I've been dealing with lots of issues, which all seem to have been heaped up on my head recently: the attack, the job stuff, things going on within my blessed family, things with friends, past and present, several breakups, and a LOT of letting go of the past. Strangely enough, the past seems to stay wrapped around my ankles, like a lover pleading for you to stay...just a little longer.

It just so happens that I have an incredible group of friends, as well as the most awesome family on earth. Every individual person I know has had some kind of impact on me. It's usually positive, but if it ever turns negative, unfortunately, that's something I don't think I'm able to deal with at this point, so I have to turn them away. I hate doing that, but I'm pretty sure we're all in agreement here when I say that everyone doesn't get along with everyone.

Hell, we weren't meant to. It would be nice and be MY personal fantasy, to heal the world with militant, renegade huggies. But, as loving as I am (or have the ability to be, when I'm not mentally stretched like a rubber band), I'm also a realist.

Life is a bitch.

At this point, with all the uncertainty that lies out there, with all the problems we're all encountering, I think the best thing we can do at this point is just hold on to each other for dear life. If you find someone who brings you down too much or doesn't seem to fit you, let them go. Please. For their sake, and for your sanity. They'll find someone. We all do.

But, the people you DO have, remember who they are, and actually sit and figure out why that person is so special to you. THOSE are the people you cling to. I may be independent on my own, but I'm completely and proudly codependent with the people I love. MY love and devotion isn't anything to brag about. But, I consider myself to be a very picky and discerning person, when it comes to relationships that I want to pursue. I never just walk up to someone (like Cory), and basically demand for them to be my friend. Even Heather and I had to be introduced, go out on a date, act coy and flirt like little girls...and when I ended up in rehab, and she showed up, with a card and hugs in tow, I knew she was meant to be my best friend.

A lot of the people I know have social problems or vexations (me, obviously). Something I've come to understand and hold on to like a life raft is, you have to make your feelings known. If you love someone, tell them. If they take it the wrong way, they're the weirdo. &=P If you feel like hugging someone, do it, sexual harassment be damned (although, this should not be attempted on strangers or new friends who haven't been properly felt out). &=) But, obviously, if these are the people who know and love you, so of course, those things won't be problems. Tear down walls. Stop putting up walls. Surround yourself with people whom you love and want to emulate. BE who you want to be - not who someone expects you to be. Love people, and let them love you. Just choose wisely for yourself. If something doesn't work out, it wasn't meant to. Don't stress about it. But, always remember, as fucked up as other people are, there's always room for improvement within your own life. Just fill your life full of people who are willing to accept you just as you are, even while knowing you're constantly changing. We all are.

We just have to learn to accept it and each other. Together, we can make it through anything. It's tough, and there are still days that I can't stand to have anyone touch me. But, overall, I need my people. And, it makes me feel amazing to know that they need me. Makes me feel good to don my superhero-friend cape every now and again.

I think I need to reread my texts again. I need some psychological huggies like a madman.