Really...?

Holy crap, you guys. It's raining again! I thought we were done with this stuff for at least a month, after having it rain for the ENTIRE MONTH OF OCTOBER.

HUBS and I went to a movie showing at The St. Louis International Film Festival last night. It was at one of our antique theaters (above) with character and only one screen. We had to stand out in the cold, blustery rain for a half an hour because a director Q & A was still going on inside and the audience from the previous film was just hanging around. Angry-making! Thank God I had an umbrella and was at least wearing a sweater and jacket, but we both needed scarves and gloves and winter coats for that shit.

Also, HUBS is a wizard...

Well...Ok

Yup. It's pretty obvious to me now - I think I'm depressed again. And I don't mean that random depression that comes when you think about something upsetting and then goes on its way when you watch your favorite tv show. I'm talking about the real, lasting depression that had me on Effexor for about five years.

Other than my anger/rage issues, I've also been feeling really overwhelmed. Even though I know in reality I barely do anything. I have three stories to write every week for my one freelance gig and two stories a month for the other gig. But...But I often feel like I have no time to do what I want or need to. There's this constant nagging in my brain to do a huge list of things, and thinking about this list makes me tired, saps whatever little energy I have and leads to me not wanting to do anything. So, often, I don't.

Last week during a moment of bright, shining clarity when I woke up in the middle of the night, I had a realization. I'd been wondering why I could no longer seem to meet my deadlines on a regular basis(and beating myself up for it). What did I realize? I'm bored. That's right, I'm bored with my main source of income, writing bar/club reviews for an entertainment website. That's why I don't give enough of a shit to turn my articles in on time.

I'm tired of the running around and the low pay and not getting reimbursed for the cash I spend on food and drink and having to put these excursions on my credit cards and racking up more debt and never knowing when I'll get paid or how much they'll decide to give me when I do.

This week, for instance, I'm doing a special on pies for Thanksgiving. The last time I did one of these holiday themed specials my pay was knocked down to $50 instead of my usual $100 because I didn't talk about enough different things. So, this time I asked my editor how many places I'd need to visit to get my usual fee. He said eight. One piece of pie from eight separate restaurants. Do you know how much running around that is? And how much money spending that is? For only 100 fucking dollars? Shit, I am tired.

And no matter how many jobs I apply for, I just can't keep up that hopeful feeling I had briefly that something with full-time money is around the corner. Just. Can't. Do it. I actually had another interview on Wednesday last week. During the interview the woman revealed that I would only get, at most, $7.75 an hour for this job. I'd wanted $10, which I thought was reasonable and already really, really shitty. It was a front desk job at a local YMCA; haven't heard from her and don't think I got this one either. Even though I have eight years experience handling front desk stuff.

I don't know what I'm supposed to be good for anymore. This whole process is demoralizing.

Hate.

October!

Dammit, October! Stop raining all the time, already. It's depressing. And makes my basement wet. And makes it hard to drive to my job interview in Belleville, IL. A place I know nothing about other that it's a half hour drive into another state. Yeah, October, it was real sweet how you didn't even start raining today until I left the house for my interview. Nice work, October!

STOP IT!!

Ok, I Can Breathe Now

This plant is currently unbloomed (of course), but the photo fits my lighter, more hopeful mood.

I got the results of the second blood test for my liver issue on Monday. My enzyme level has gone down to 72, which is still too high but a lot better than 153. It's looking more and more, to me anyway, that it's just because I was sick. The nurse I talked to last Friday said that could be the reason.

Even so, I've been ordered not to drink alcohol until after my check up on December 30, when my doc will take more blood and redo the test again to see if it's gone down more. I am fine with that. I told my editor at the online magazine where I do bar reviews what was going on, and I was so glad he didn't freak out about me not being able to drink.

Also, I am glad that it no longer looks like I might have something seriously wrong with me.
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By the way, I had a job interview for a part-time receptionist job a couple of weeks ago that I did not get. I had to talk to two people that day, and I think the second one saw through my I'd-love-to-stay-here-a-long-time-in-this-position bullshit (they were looking for someone to do part-time for about a year and then move to full time permanently).

And, that's sorta ok. In fact, it's real ok, because I've just applied for three writing jobs that could be very cool. And I've got an interview for one tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Hmmm...I Feel Better

Could it be because the sun is shining but it's still chilly outside?

Methinks so...

Fit

I wish the title of this post referred to my firm inner thighs and tight abs, but unfortunately I'm talking about the kind of fit you have instead of are.

For a while earlier this year I was having a lot of these, throwing things and yelling and such. I had one again last night. This time, though, I hit HUBS in the stomach and when he said "Hey, what the fuck?" and backed away I threw a bag of crackers at him. Dammit.

Why did I get so upset? He'd just come home, right before 9pm, after saying he'd be home at 5:30 and then saying he'd really be home at 7:30. I had just finished eating without him (I hadn't had anything but toast all day; I tried to eat soup after I found out about the liver thing, but I think I was too worried to eat. So, after getting sick to my stomach I took about a 4 hour nap.).

I was mad that even though I'd called him and told him about the medical stuff, he didn't seem worried, or to care that I was worried. I was really hoping that he'd be home early so I could talk to him and be comforted and such. Plus? My computer keeps crashing and had just done so. So I wasn't able to get started on the story I'd been procrastinating on, like I'd wanted to.

It was one of those feelings like nothing is ever going to be right again. We literally never have any money for anything other than bills anymore, and are dangerously close to having no credit left either. We even had to take a cash advance from one of my cards last week to avoid getting overdraft fees in our checking account and to have some money for something. I really just can't seem to find a job. I put in four applications for retail places on Monday and no one has even called.

Nothing feels right. And, yeah, I was taking some undeservered stuff out on HUBS when I hit him, but I also feel like he hasn't been caring for me like he should. We've talked about this at least 3 times since I've been sick this month. I know he's been working insane hours to make overtime money for us, but when I was sick he still had to be asked and told to do things for me.

I mean, I got dizzy everytime I bent over and I still had to request that he do a little laundry. Do you realize how hard it is to go down a flight of stairs (to the basement) when you're weak and dizzy? He wouldn't so much as load the dishwasher without my prompting. Until I yelled at him. Got angry and told him to "help me dammit!"

Do you know he wouldn't even go get me a hamburger? Just a plain McDonald's hamburger. He didn't come out and say no, it was more like "Well, let's just wait and see after I finish this and we can go together blah blah blah." Fuck, I didn't feel like leaving the house. Basically, after a hard, long week at work he was finally getting to goof off online like he likes to and didn't want to deal with me (which he actually said to me, though not in so many words) when I asked him a whopping 4 hours later why he didn't just go get me a God damn burger already? Oh, and I happened to confront him about this when we were finally on the way to getting my burger, after I'd been hungry for, yes, FOUR HOURS.

I don't think I'm being outrageous here, to expect a little care from my husband when I get ill. Especially since I literally do everything for him when he's sick, and he gets sick A LOT. I even stuck by him when he got some flu-like thing a few months after we got together, when he thought he, wait for it...MIGHT HAVE AIDS. Yeah, and honestly, I think he deserved to get hit a little, though not for everything I hit him for.

This no-job-no-money-no-credit pressure is too much after 22 months of unemployment. I think we need counseling.

What The Fuck Now?

So, my doctor's office called today about the blood work I had done yesterday. Something's wrong with my liver. There's some enzyme that's supposed to be at 40, but my level is something like 153. I have to go in for more blood work tomorrow.

I'm a little bit scared.