Happy Valentine's Day To Me

I slept until almost noon today. I haven't done that in years, but I had a crappy time last night. So did HUBS, and it was his birthday.

He wanted to build a new computer. We'd done our taxes and were getting a pretty good refund; but there were other pressing issues. The plumbing in our kitchen is shot and we need to pay his property tax from last year. I talked to him about it and told him I didn't like the idea of him spending so much, right now, on a computer when his isn't blown out. And I know his parents talked to him about it.

HUBS is angry. He's angry that he's 42 and can't just buy what he wants he wants to. He's angry that I don't have a job. He's angry that he feels like our whole financial life rests on his shoulders. He's angry that he has a job he basically enjoys, but where they've told him outright that he won't be able to move ahead if he stays there. He's angry that every time he comes close to getting a higher paying gig...he doesn't. All of that makes sense to me.

So last night, instead of enjoying his birthday, he told me how angry he was, is and will be about things until I get a job. It took a few hours. And when he took a break to shower I sat watching Access Hollywood, with a growing headache, and considered just walking out the door and getting into my car and not telling him where I was going or when I was coming back because I didn't know.

I stayed. When he came back into the room I apologized for being a depressed, unemployed and ambition-less loser. I apologized for leaving my job at exactly the wrong economic time, letting the process of applying for and not getting jobs demoralize me and giving up over and over again. I apologized for not knowing how to make working for myself work and for hating whatever office or retail job I might get in the future until I can make real money writing. I apologized for not caring about sex enough to do it when I don't want to and not even trying to find a job for the past seven months.

Then, we went to dinner. We drowned our sorrows in food and booze, and I, for one, felt no better.

I realized this morning, laying in bed trying to go back to sleep, that none of the things I want seem even remotely real or possible for me. For other people, sure. But not me. Whenever I try moving toward those things, I feel good only on the surface. Deep inside, there's a tight ball of tense fear that forms and says This will never happen, but you just keep on keeping on.

I don't feel special enough to have what I want. So, I stop trying and the fear of wanting goes away. I think that's why I sabotage myself so much.

The only way to get through the fear is to feel it and do the things I'm scared of, but I haven't mastered that. At all.

Clearly, I have some things to work on.

What's the scariest thing you've ever done? How did you make yourself do it anyway?

Tuesday Tipday: How To Say No

...These women were unable to say no. You don't want to end up like them, in a bundle on the floor with your ass showing, do you?

If you look at a women's magazine in any given month, chances are you will come upon an article discussing how hard it is for women to say no to demands on their time by other people.

Not only have I never been one of these women, but I don't entirely understand them. Maybe it's because I don't have children or tons of family responsibilities, or maybe it's because a sometimes not so gentle undercurrent of depression runs through my everyday life. Either way, I'm pretty good at saying no.

So, for everyone who has trouble with it, here are some steps you can take to free yourself from the tyranny of yes.

How To Say No

1) Start with yourself. "No" seems so negative, doesn't it? You probably don't say it because you're afraid of hurting people's feelings or seeming selfish. The first key is to stop thinking about "no" in such negative terms. When you say NO to other people, what you're really doing is saying YES to yourself. If you're faced with a business offer or invitation, or asked for money you'd rather not give, think about what you need to do with the time, money, knowledge or whatever else has been asked of you. When you think of saying NO to others as simply saying YES to your own life, it's easier to realize it's not so bad.

2) Work up to it... If you really can't fathom turning down any request, you may need to ease yourself into it. Would you like to come to my Bachelorette finale viewing party? asks the woman at work you hate talking to in regards to a show you happen to also hate. Tell her you need to check your calendar, then when she asks again a few days later, thank her for the invitation and tell her you've got a family event that night. She doesn't need to know that "family event" is code for a long bath, delivered pizza and a Gilmore Girls marathon with your husband.

3) ...But don't coddle yourself. The white lie route will only get you so far. Plus, you can't do that forever. Eventually you're going to have to bust out the dreaded two letter word. Practice with those small, everyday questions if working up to no keeps you stuck in I'll-think-about-it land. Do you want fries with that? NO. Can I talk to you about our new credit protector plan? NO. Are you alright? NO. The sex was good last night, wasn't it? NO. You get the picture...

4) Stay positive. Remember that you're only saying no to say yes to your own needs. As a result, it's often a good idea to couch your response in as much positivity as you can, depending on the situation. Here's how this works. You get the question: We really need a new chair for this event. You've worked with us for a long time, would you like to take over? You think: The reason they need a new chair is because the stress of planning always drives the previous chair insane. I am too busy, important and happy to go crazy right now. You say: Wow, thanks for thinking of me, but, no. I really have too much going on to devote enough time to chairing the event. I'll certainly volunteer again, though! See? Easy!

Now go take that bath, eat that pizza and watch TV. You've earned it!

What do you have trouble saying no to?

Friends In High Places

Debby, during our trip to Branson

My best friend Debby died seven years ago on a hailing, storm-ridden morning in Spring. Actually, I don't know if she considered me her best friend. We never talked about it or analyzed it, we just up and started doing everything together one day.

We worked at the same company. I was the newbie, and also the youngest non-intern there. She took me under her wing, asking me to do something with her during our off hours one day. It was so long ago now that I can't even remember what it was. But, it wasn't long before we were visiting new restaurants together, having pizza parties during the Golden Globes and gossiping about co-workers and bosses and people we didn't know. We took shopping road trips to Branson and Schaumberg, IL, went to movies on weekends, did concerts after work, pulled pranks on our office manager together and dissected the latest episodes of Gilmore Girls and The X-Files over extended coffee breaks.

I don't think I ever told Debby everything. Like about how lonely I'd been before we started hanging out. Or how I'd never been on a date and was a virgin. I certainly never mentioned that I'd always felt like a loser. But it really didn't matter. Because with Debby around everything was better. Brighter, happier, bolder, more interesting and exciting.

Debby was really quite different from me. She was a few years older (You'll think it's silly, but I never asked her age. Again, it didn't matter.) and the kind of outgoing, outspoken person that many people loved. (Unless they disliked her. Which was usually either because she'd put them in their place or was obviously liked by more people then they were.) She'd been around and done stuff and known people, which I hadn't.

She also had the kind of loud, addictive laugh that would stop the whole office and have our co-workers asking What? What's so funny? Tell me! Debby was also the best gift-giver I've ever known. Mention a thing once, briefly and in passing, and you were guaranteed to have it either on your birthday or at Christmas. Guaranteed.

Debby was not the only best friend I'd ever had. There were Danielle and Chiquita in grade school. Sara in high school. Emily in high school, college and a few years after college. I'd never quite had a friend like Debby, though, and I don't know if it'd be possible to have a friend that cool again. But, I'd like to try.

I'm now four years deep into my friend desert. After quitting the company where I met Debby, I was left with one friend from the old co-working gang who keeps in touch on a regular basis. We meet once a year for our shared birthday and email a few times beyond that. She's got three kids, a husband, a full time job, is running her own business on the side and doesn't even live in the same state as me. This is why we see each other once a year.

Emily found me on Facebook last year and we talk on the phone every month or so. Why don't we hang out? She's got a husband who works crazy hours and a rambunctious three-year-old...Oh, yeah, and in the past year she's moved from Boston to Chicago to a beach-side city in California. I still lay my head down in our hometown of St. Louis every night.

I need some girl talk. Some shopping trips and concert-going hijinks and female bonding sessions that begin with crying and end with raucous laughter. As nice as my family is, I need face time with other women who are not related to me.

If you're looking for the same thing, but are anxiety-ridden about trying to friend folks as an adult (like me), you should read the book I finished last week. MWF Seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche. Rachel found herself in a new city without her network of besties around and decided to go on one friend date a week for a whole year. It took guts (Debby would approve), but it worked.

And when you're feeling weary and alone there's nothing better than knowing that someone walked the path before you and made it work.

That's All For Now

I don't have any photos of Grandaddy G. So, instead, I offer this picture of my husband and his older sister when they were little ones.

Grandaddy G passed away on Thursday. HUBS, PT and I went to the funeral yesterday morning. It was a nice service, and since he was in the Army they had military rites done at the cemetery.

A bit about Grandaddy G:

- He was a gunner in WWII
- His 92nd birthday would have been in two weeks
- He was always nice to me, and from what I've heard he was always nice to everyone else, too
- He enjoyed the fact that I could always pick him out in super old photos that I'd never seen before
- He loved restoring old cars and worked on them until a couple a years ago
- He was a loyal fan to the end of the St. Louis Browns and until recently still liked to talk about the 1944 World Series
- When he got back from the war he built his own house
- He loved animals
- He loved sweets but had to stay away from them since he'd been diabetic for years
- Because he was diabetic for so long, many of his nerve endings were damaged so he ended up being in far less pain than he would have been otherwise. Talk about everything happening for a reason...

It's impossible (I would think, anyway) to go to a funeral or watch someone deal with a life threatening illness and not consider (Reconsider?) what you're doing with your own time. When I heard the news on Thursday I found myself thinking Well, that's it. The last of HUBS and my grandparents. In 20-30 years our parents will be next. And 20-30 years after that, if we're all lucky, it'll be our turn.

I'm feeling the time crunch, is what I'm saying. For some reason, another 60 years tops just doesn't seem like much right now. Of course, it'll seem like less later because it'll be less. Suppose I better get to work.

Music Monday: Dammit Whitney!

Just...sigh...



Some much happier news? Adele won a shit load of Grammy Awards! And she's on the cover of Vogue!



Meanwhile, if you need a Grammy inspired laugh...



The world just gets classier everyday.

Dammit, Nicki!!

Oh, Katy...



Ahhh...That's better!

Interesting Theories

In the interest of EXPANSION I've been reading a lot of books on freelancing, writing, creating an ideal life and personal branding over the last few months. Last night I was pouring over Be Your Own Brand, and some of the ideas really struck me.

I've wondered quite a bit on here (and during my general alone time) about why I procrastinate and sabotage myself. I've come to the basic conclusion that I'm afraid of a lot of stuff, but this book made me think something else is also behind it.

The authors write about the importance of authenticity when building a brand. People, they say, will trust you faster and longer when they feel you're being real with them. Which, aside from making total sense, I believe I'm good at doing. But, they also mention three important components of authenticity: purpose, vision and values.

I have the strongest handle on my values (the stuff that's important to me), a little bit less of a grasp on my vision (What do I really want out of life? To make movies? Become a pro-blogger? Make money selling my photos?) and almost no idea of what my purpose (Really, why do I specifically exist in the world?) is.

The purpose part is what really bugged and stuck with me, because here's what they say about purposeless folks: people without it have no grounding for their values, no motivation to act and nothing that inspires desire.

NO MOTIVATION TO ACT AND NOTHING THAT INSPIRES DESIRE.

That's not a direct quote, but that's what hit my heart hard. That phrase pretty much describes my whole life. I've got lots of big goals and plans and dreams, but have made very little effort to bring much of anything to fruition.

The Why am I here? question has nagged at me since I was a little kid. It comes to the forefront whenever I have a deeply depressed moment that leaves me feeling like a wasted bag of useless existence. But, really? I've never had a very strong feeling of Oh! This is why I'm here!

Even when I get an inkling of that feeling, my brain stops it with But that's silly. I can't be here to help people with their screenplays. Or, How could I have been put here just to rescue stray cats?

Is this it? Is this really why I lack enough ambition to push through fear and act on what I want with few limitations? Has this been the root of my depression all these years? Is this what's actually causing my newly acquired panic attacks? Is this the root of my general passionless mood, something that's been with me for decades?

I swear. The more I read, the more I see how screwy I am.

What about you? Do you know why you're here?

August 2009 - July 5 2011

Well, yesterday at around 11:30 am, Luanne passed away. It's not quite that simple, but I can't get into all the details right now.



I'm really sad. I feel like I'm sadder than when my grandmother, uncle or cousin died. I know time is severely compressed for cats, but they had all been sick for so long that the possibility of death seemed more imminent. Plus, I wasn't directly caring for any of them on a daily basis. Even though they were people and family, I think that proximity to illness is a factor in how much this hurts.



As you can see from the dates in the title, Luanne wasn't even two years old yet. What sucks is that just a couple of weekends ago (on June 24 and 25) she seemed to really be starting to adjust to her anemia. She started jumping around onto things and into windows that she'd ignored for weeks. She jumped up in my lap and curled up there for a bit. She even spent most of Saturday night that weekend in bed with HUBS and I. The power had gone out and I think she was nervous. After chasing a little flying creature around on our dresser in the light of a flashlight, she jumped right over to the bed and curled up between us.



It was pretty sudden, on Monday she was fine. On Tuesday morning she took a turn and died on us.


Luanne's most recent nickname was Poodle Paws

I'm always going to wonder if I had done just one, or two or maybe three things differently if she would still be with us. Long enough for her birthday at least. I am glad for the time we had with her, though.



And yet, I'm still really sad.

Are You There God? It's Me, Citygirl...

Dear Almighty,

I'm writing this as an open prayer. To get it all out and force myself to stop.

We cannot worry anymore. HUBS and I cannot sleep at night. We're snappy and bitchy and twitchy and irritable. Even when we're happy we're sad. It all feels like too much; like a dreary dead end that we can't turn around from.

And we're trying. Trying to stop the worry, the ruminating, the wallowing, the stressing, the fear. We are: breathing deeply, counting to 10, praying, pleading, meditating, yoga-ing, stretching and discussing. It helps for a bit, and then feels meaningless.

So, I'm now (actively and publicly) giving it all to you. Surrendering every fear, stress, worry, anxiety and its ilk.

About...

Luanne's health issues
My joblessness
My depression
My restlessness
My inactivity
My indecision
My procrastination
HUBS' exhaustion
Our money problems
Our anger
Our anxiety
Our fear of our own futures
Our lack of hope
Our lack of complete faith
Our entitlement
Our reckless desires...

And all the other negative, scary stuff.

I ask that you take these things and help us figure out a way through, up, over, around or under them. And if we can't figure out a way, please help us somehow be ok anyway.

Many thanks,
XO

Citygirl

Heart. Is. Breaking.

So, you remember me telling you about all the stay cats in my neighborhood? Well, today County Animal Control stopped by and started rounding them up. I'm heartbroken. I talked with the lady who was setting the traps in my yard this morning and she said they hold them for a week to see if anyone claims them. Then? Then, if the cats don't look like they're good with people, they euthanize them.

After being tricked with food and trapped in a cage the cats only get one week to suddenly be good with people or they're dead. I hate this.

I had to stand there and watch as one of our favorites, Julia, got trapped in the cage. She was so scared. I'm just praying she calms down enough so that they can adopt her out. Unless we get money back from our taxes we won't be able to take her in. As it is we're already pretty full with three cats, but we are considering going to get Julia.


This is Julia in 2009, she was still a kitten. It's hard to believe we may never see her again.

Even worse, a pregnant cat (like Miller and Harris, the gray cats in the top photo) who doesn't get claimed in a week may be euthanized even if they are good with people. 'Cause who's adopting a pregnant cat? So even though Miller is super-adoptable (we pet her all the time and she loves it), she may be killed just because she's knocked up (if they catch her, I hope they don't).

My question is, where was County Animal Control four years ago when we moved in? The trapper I talked to today said that they noticed a problem so they're trying to take care of it, but there have been strays since we moved in. Why the fuck couldn't they have stepped up their efforts before HUBS and I and the guy across the street got attached to the stays?

I know we're not the ones who'll actually be physically hurt if they strays don't get adopted, but this feels like a giant Fuck you and everything you care about! from the universe. Especially after all the loss my family has suffered. It's like one more Ha HA, try to deal with THIS! from life. (And yes, I know life gives us those on a regular basis to keep us on our toes and grateful for the good things and yada yada...Doesn't make this any easier. Pitiful as it may be I feel like these cats are my friends.)

I HATE HATE HATE THIS TUESDAY. And I really hope you're having a better day than me. Really better.

Very Early

Remember being happy without reservations? Me neither, but I do remember things being easier.

I've been awake for about half an hour. It's 7:06am, I got up to pee and someone happened to be mowing their lawn. Which meant it was a bit noisy. Which, in turn, meant I couldn't get back to sleep quickly. Which, therefore, meant that as I was trying to sleep I started thinking.

Thinking. Dreaded, dreaded thinking.

When I was at work last night I made a tiny list of things I wanted to buy/do with the money I'm going to get today; the money I made at work last week (thank GOD for weekly paychecks).

It was a small, rather modest list that went like this:

Buy
-Stray Food
-HUBS undies
-Green Tea Growth Treatment
-Hot Dogs
-Beef
-Sausage
-Tater Tots
-Schnucks Asiago Rolls
-Frozen Veggies
-Cereal
-Coffee
-Canned Goods
-Brown Sugar

Do
-$3 in savings?
-54th Street anniversary dinner?
-$10 Verizon?
-Other Bills?

The questions marks are because I didn't know how much of my check we'd get to play around with after paying bills, but until HUBS gets paid next Friday. Turns out it's only $8.

HUBS let me know this last night when he finally got home around 11:05pm, after doing about six hours of work gratis for the second night in a row because his school district (as large and acclaimed and fairly well-off as it is) has no money left for overtime pay.

He was freaked out about his gas card. It's now basically maxed out, meaning we won't even be able to put gas in our cars if we're out of cash. I'm guessing if it comes to that, one of us is going to have to take the bus to work. And that 'one of us' is probably going to be me.

Here I am, working again, and it's still not enough. HUBS was talking about trying to sell the house last night. I'm going to have to get a part-time job during the day. Or, find someone to pay me for my writing. Because it's good, right? You like this blog post and the others and my writing is mainly what makes up these posts, right?

Sorry guys. Just a little early morning depression. Thanks, as always, for listening. And, if you have any freelance writing job leads, let me know. (Yes, I'm totally serious about that.)

Have a great weekend :)

Blah, No Blah

Mom likes the idea.

Ok, so, I've spent the past two weeks sitting on the couch every day, all day, meaning to do something worthwhile with all this free time but never doing it. I've let myself get to that broody place where all the things I should be doing feel pointless.

I have to pull myself out of this. Part of my problem is always my never ending to-do list filled with thing after thing after thing. The less I do, the longer that fucking list grows. So, I have a new goal. Tonight, after another solid day of nothing-doing (With the exception of laundry...Yea, clean pants!) I broke up my to-dos into a 5-thing-a-day list-per-day.

I can accomplish five stupid little things each day.

Right?

Oh Boy...

A desperate list I couldn't even finish.

In the past couple of months I've renewed my obsession with reading self-help books. This was something I used to do all the time from the early 2000s until about five years ago. I stopped for two reasons. One, almost all self-help books tend to say the same stuff in different ways. So, after you read about three of the things you're going to keep getting the same info over and over.

The second reason I stopped was my own odd tendency to feel like I'm accomplishing something when I'm actually procrastinating and hiding. What do I mean? I mean that reading self-help books has the same effect on me as entering contests online, somehow I feel a little like I'm earning money when I enter, even though I know that's a stupid feeling. When I read self-help books I feel like I'm working toward my goals, but in actuality I'm just reading a book and not really doing concrete work to fulfill my dreams.

I started up again because I was so depressed about working yet another job I loathed, but even more than the last one I hated. I felt I needed a little boost, and this has turned into me reading about six self-help books in four months.

Here's where the oh boy comes in. I've been reading a book called The Joy Diet. There's a part that tells you it's necessary to give yourself small treats for taking risks that will further your goals. The writer has you do an exercise where you list 10 things that make you smile, so you can use those things as treats.

Do you know what? After writing three things, I completely stalled. I started to think of all the stuff I like or even love: organizing the house, getting rid of things we don't need anymore, cooking, writing, photography, watching movies, reading fashion magazines and tearing out tips and photos, reading books, HUBS, the light at sunset, the light at sunrise, watching good tv...None of these things make me smile all the time. They make me feel good at least 90% of the time, but they don't make me actually smile.

It was months ago when HUBS told me I never smile anymore. I conceded that I'd been moody/angry a lot, but, Of course I smile!, I said. And now, trying to make this list, I see that he's likely very right. I absolutely love taking pictures and writing; why the fuck do they not make me smile? If nothing makes me smile, what does that mean? What have I become?

This is why HUBS so often knocks himself out doing goofy, ridiculous stuff in an effort to make my mouth turn up at the corners. I'm really not smiling anymore.

HUBS. I've become a huge drag. I'm sorry.

Weekend Report

Saturday, past about 9 am? Felt like I'd swallowed one of these.

Today is Tuesday. After a boring day at work that went by blissfully fast (I was in an area where I couldn't see the clock. That actually helped a lot.) I got called off for today, which means I'm currently at home.

So far I've done 4 loads of laundry and gone through over 500 neglected emails. Not bad for 4 hours of awakeness and doing-stuff.

I hope everyone had a good Easter. Mine was ok. HUBS and I took my mom out to his parents place for the annual Easter dinner. Mom had never been out there before because of taking care of my grandmother. I was a bit surprised she agreed to go and didn't back out. When I talked to her that morning, she sounded quite down. This is the first holiday without my grandmother and it's been almost a year to the day since my uncle died. She didn't say it, but I know that stuff was weighing on her.

Everything went fine, but my day was only ok for two reasons. First, I was a bit afraid to eat. Why? Because on Saturday, after taking almost the whole week off "sick", I really did get sick. Big sick. Doing-scary-things-in-the-bathroom-that-no-one-wants-to-think-about sick. I was trapped in there for about an hour. Unfortunately, the thing that seemed to irritate my stomach this time involved jalapenos. Just so you know, spicy in = 1,000 times spicier coming out. It took a full day for my throat to stop burning.

The second reason I wasn't that great was because I knew I'd have to go back to work Monday. I actually almost started crying during the car ride home.

Really? I'm going to try to stop complaining about my job in this space now. I've just realized I'm tired of it. That probably means you're getting tired of it, too. Of course, if anything completely outlandish happens you can totally expect me to tell you about it!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

On a completely different note, HUBS and I went to see Clash of the Titans Saturday after I recovered for a few hours. I found it exciting and enjoyable. We also walked around the mall a bit, which wore me out a lot more than I was expecting. We managed to finally get HUBS a new pair of glasses, something that's been on our list since January. Rectangularish, gray frames will be a new look for him. I'll submit a photo when he's all glassed up.

Ahhh...

Things are much better now. Thanks for being patient while I try not to let a feeling of impending doom overtake me.

I had some time off work last week and took my mom shopping on Wednesday. This was after her three day trip to Memphis and Brownsville, TN early last week. Her aunt and uncle (my grandmother's younger brother and sister) convinced her to go with them to visit family. She got a chance to see where my grandmother was born, since the land is still in the family. When she was asked to go the first thing she said was "But, I can't leave momma." Dammit, dammit, dammit that's sad. But she went. And I'm so glad she did.

Unfortunately, while we were shopping mom revealed that she was looking for something to wear to yet another funeral. This time for a guy she went to school with who had just come to my grandmother's funeral last month. He had a sudden, massive heart attack and that was it. You see why I'm fighting feelings of doom, over here?



On a lighter note, HUBS and I went to Chicago for a quickie trip the weekend before last. We only stayed one night. It was fun but, damn was weatherchannel.com ever wrong about the high temperature. They said 55 and it couldn't have been more than 35 degrees. We were totally not dressed for it! And, since we'd decided to go to the Shedd Aquarium and Navy Pier ($24 to park!!), which are both on the water, um...We almost froze to death. Especially because there were about 200 people in line ahead of us at Shedd. And we had to wait...OUTSIDE. IN THE RAIN. ALSO. Thank God Black-Lady-Paddington-Bear let us go in the accessible entrance. She cut our wait time of 2 hours down to 1/2 an hour.



It was a bit of an adventure, we had great pizza, watched bad cable tv, had free hotel breakfast and now...Now I'm really starved for a real vacation.



How have you been?

Never Ending

Guess what my mom and I did yesterday? We went to yet another funeral. This time it was for two of my aunts' mom (they are my mom's half sisters, so they had a different mother).

She died last Thursday. I'd never met her, but wanted to be there for my aunts and cousins, especially since these two aunts did way more to help my mom with my grandmother than the aunt and uncle who were her actual children. Those two did pretty close to nothing.

We went to Burger King afterwards. I felt bad for mom, yesterday it was three weeks to the day that my grandmother died. Going to another "mom funeral" made things really hard for her, but she felt, like me, that she had to go.

Can we please stop with the family deaths now? That makes seven in less than a year. So...Please?

Silence

Last flowers

I know I've been away for quite a while now, but a lot's been going on. My grandmother died on February 16 at 7:26 am. Maybe I'll write more about that later, maybe not. I was going to post a picture of her above and started crying, so it's possible I'm not as ok as I thought I was by now.

So, I'll be back to regular posting soon. For now, enjoy the photos here. Pictures are so much easier than words...

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. 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.

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.

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.

Things We've Done Recently

We have had an interesting time of it lately. Here's what's been going on...



1)On the first Tuesday of this month, I noticed a opossum hanging out in our neighbor's driveway in the middle of the day. And it freaked me out, I thought that's all we need now, opossums running amok during the day. Well, by the same time the following day, that poor thing was dead. I guess it was sick and disoriented and that's why it was hanging out during daylight.

2) Almost two months to the day after this, I found another cat left in the road in front of our house. HUBS was at work, so I had to dig the grave myself. I don't think I'd ever really used a shovel before, and I was not very good at it. A lot of that had to do with it being hot and me being very sad. I named her Sheila and put her in the little dirt pile left after we got the tree in the front yard removed. Our neighbor, Fred, saw me digging and when he realized why got very upset. He puts out food and water for the strays like we do. When I said that someone must have hit her with their car her responded angrily with "Who! Who hit her!" and I appreciated his seeming desire to find the person and make them wish they had driven more carefully.

Then, two days later on Saturday, after a night of really hard, ridiculous raining, I went to put out food for the strays and found another kitten in the street. It was all very dramatic; me running through our flooded front walk, out into the rain and picking him up. He was wet and cold and already long gone. I brought him into the house and covered him in our doormat until HUBS could find a spot to bury him. I named him Stanley. RIP Sheila 9/3/09 and Stanley 9/5/09.


Boat. Not as big as you may have imagined.

3) That same day we went to Grafton, IL to see life-sized reproductions of Columbus' Pinta and Nina in dock. I was too upset about Stanley and Sheila to have a good time. Also, we went with his parents. They thought I was just tired. I realized that every time I've seen them this year has been on a day I was already in a crap-ass mood about something else. God only knows what they think is wrong with me!

4) With three cat deaths in two months we (me, HUBS and Fred) were starting to think it was time to get some of the strays adopted. Fred and I made calls to the Humane Society of MO, but they don't pick up strays. Animal control will give out humane cages to catch the animals, but a) they only give you one at a time, and that would take forever around here where we've got about 30 cats wandering our street; and b) if they don't have room for them after getting a clean bill of health, they still euthanize them. None of us wanted that, so we're leaving the cats alone. I still can't decide if that's really the right thing, though. Ideas?


Manny and the freakish eyes.

5) Life hasn't been all bad. For a brief period of time last week, we adopted a praying mantis that was hanging around our windows. HUBS named it Manny, which could be short for Manuela if it was a female. It was odd how responsive it was. More so than any other bug/insect I've seen. If you looked out the window at Manny, his head would immediately swivel to look at you. And if you moved around in the window you could actually see his eyes following you. HUBS looked up some mantis facts and found out they have 5 eyes, can see 60 feet and their heads turn 180 degrees. Freaky! After two days Manny moved on (we hope none of the kittens got him) and now we kinda miss the little freak.

6) During one of my many times at the window watching Manny, I accidentally saw him poop. Don't ask.

7) In a break from watching Everwood Season 2 or Friday Night Lights Season 3, I looked out to make sure no cats were in need anywhere. I found a baby opossum and a kitten eating the remainder of the food I'd put out that day. That damn kitten just couldn't leave well enough alone, and kept trying to play with the opossum's thick, ugly tail while it was eating. Opossum baby was coming real close to attacking the kitten because of it, so I stepped outside hoping to scare them off. Uh, you know they both just stood there and stared at me, right? For like a full two minutes, before opossum baby finally ran away. Baby animal crisis averted. See how brave I am when I can hide most of my body behind our front door?

8) Last Friday night, on our way to one of my bar reviews, we saw a opossum get run over by a car. Now, let me just say that I am no opossum fan. They are creepy, disgusting looking and I've heard they're pretty mean. But, I don't want to watch anything suffer, and Goddammit that thing suffered. It was horrible to see. I'll leave it at that.

9) With all this death-of-animals stuff going on, I asked my mom last week if she thought it was some kind of sign. She believes in that type of thing and so do I. I mean, I was starting to worry that God, The Universe, Whatever wasn't getting through to me about something so they were using dead animals to get me to notice what the fuck ever I need to notice. My mom didn't think so, and that really helped ease my mind. It might sound crazy, but there you go.

10) Speaking of my mom, we went to a job fair together last Wednesday with one of my aunts. Mom got laid off after her brother died back in April and hadn't really been looking for work much yet, but heard that the companies at this fair didn't need to see people with degrees, which was good for her. Unfortunately, she got some misinformation. But we still got our resumes to the company she was hoping to talk with. And, I got lots of goodies from the company tables at the fair. Thank you Brown Shoe Company, I've always wanted a tiny pomegranate lip balm!

11) I also spent a day last week trying to help my mom get her room organized. See, she's become quite the hoarder of paper; she's thrown very little away for the past 14years. Her bedroom is filled with bags, boxes and baskets of old bills and mail. How did this happen? Oh, that's easy; it's my bastard father's fault.

See, back in 1994 when he left her, he bought over $3,000 worth of crap for his new place on their shared credit card...And then filed for bankruptcy. So, for years and years they came after my mom for the money. For things she never bought or even saw. She has been afraid to throw anything away for fear that if she couldn't hide from them anymore she wouldn't have the proof that she never bought that crap and shouldn't have to pay for it.

That crap finally fell off her credit report in 2002, but she can't stop saving things. When I went into her room last week I realized that she even has papers under her pillow and comforter, under the bed, in the closet and in the laundry room. I didn't know how bad it was. So I decided to help her get things straight. I was there one day from 10am to almost 7pm and we cleared out three baskets filled with old bills, receipts and pay stubs dated 1995 to 1998. We have a long way to go.

12)Last Friday our house was almost eaten by a woodpecker. I heard this horrible noise that sounded like someone was trying to pick open our locks, looked out the window and saw nothing. The noise kept coming, and it was freaking out Tux, too. I looked out again and this time looked toward the top of the door and found the bird pecking away at the door frame. I beat on the door and got it to leave for a bit, but it came back to the same spot and tried to make a home. Finally the thing got tired and went someplace else. Is that crazy, or what?


Miller, on the left, with her sister Harris. Miller is currently the only stray that likes to have us pet her.

13) Again with the death. I woke up Monday afternoon (that's right, I'm unemployed and loving the freedom) and saw a dead bird on the sidewalk. One of our favorite strays, Miller, eventually came and picked it up. I hope the bird wasn't diseased, I would hate for Miller to get sick and not be able to help her.

14) Do not believe the hype about ladybugs. When I was burying Sheila, one landed on my arm and bit the shit out of me leaving a nasty little bump behind. I am not happy with you, ladybug!

15) We have a bar stool in a corner of our bedroom where I keep a favorite pair of shoes. I went to put them on Saturday and found a cricket up there with its...Aw hell, I'm gonna say it, poop. What is it with us and droppings?


I'll have a special paw gun made if I have to, Sebastian.

16) And...Just a few minutes ago, I watched one of the strays (we call her Sebastian) fight a pretty big snake...IN OUR FRONT YARD. It wasn't just in the front yard, either. It was dangerously close to the front door. Sebastian kept getting tired and walking away to lie down for a bit, and every time I hoped she'd come back with a tiny little gun and blow that snake away. I watched her for over a half hour, and then ran around putting glue boards (thank you, Orkin Man!) down near every basement window, the front door and two openings around the back door on our deck.

Can I just say, internet, I'm tired of nature, death and shit. Absolutely wiped.