I should really get a new cell phone. I still use it very little, and the pre-pay thing is brilliant - far cheaper than a monthly plan - but the phone itself is getting raggedy, and was always crap. They have other models I can buy. I'm thinking I should get one on which it's easier to text, as yesterday I was the recipient of more texts than I care to count.
Last night I was watching Glee, the pilot episode (available on Hulu), which I really freaking love even though there is a very very high cheese factor. I don't care, I'm in it all the way. Anyway, it made me realize that all those unsavory things that we half-believed about adulthood when we were teenagers - they were pretty much all true. And we spent so much of our twenties convincing ourselves it wasn't, that this was childish thinking, that it was all great. Or maybe I shouldn't say "we". I think we should be allowed a do-over. Just one.
I forgot to mention that the tomatoes downhome were still unripe. Except for a few that got eaten before I had a chance to get to them. It really, really bums me out. In a few weeks, there'll be an avalanche of them - far more than they'll know what to do with. God, what I wouldn't give for a real garden.
Here's this visit's Grampa's Factoid, because they are useful bits of wisdom, these things my grampa says: To get rid of snakes, just turn a radio on for a full day or two. Preferably rock-n-roll. Snakes hate rock-n-roll, and that's a fact.
Today is payday (hurrah!) and I can afford to treat myself to my usual Friday night takeout. This makes me happy, because I am really, seriously having food difficulties in that I can never think of what I'm in the mood for, or what I can cook, or what I need from the grocery store. It's like all my culinary instincts are just gone. Poof. even when I think "I want a sammich", I can't imagine what I'd like to put ON the sammich. It's so fucking annoying. So tonight, I'll just say Fuck It, and order a pizza. I'm always in the mood for pizza.
Aaaaaand I need to remember to pay rent. Right. Okay.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Okay hi yes I'm back, and I've been dozing all day, to recover. It's back to work tomorrow.
Here's a bad thing: I find myself really never wanting to go to work, ever again. It's strange, because it's not a bad job, and these are not horrid awful co-workers. I guess I just have little to no interest in the work, especially now that my travel's been cut. And the office politics are really fucking tiresome. I've been in such worse situations, though, that you'd think I'd be thrilled it's just boring and annoying instead of absolutely soul-crushingly unbearable. Instead, I just feel... empty. Or something. And I keep having this urgent feeling that I'm only getting older and closer to death, and how really absurd it is, in the grand scheme, to spend this little time in doing such unappealing things. Every day, making myself go somewhere I have no interest in seeing.
But anyway, my point is: back to the office tomorrow. With bells on.
I find myself very envious of my cat, whose meal is right there in a bag. Pour it out, and you're done. Voilà, dinner is served. And she loves it, too. Me, I gotta sift through the list of edibles in my head, trying to figure what's in my kitchen that I might use to stop the tummy-growling. There's a loaf of french bread, but it's kinda bland and dry. I have cheddar, eggs, onions, pasta, can of black beans, some leftover curry in the freezer... Oh gawd, I think, I just wish someone would pour out something yummy into a bowl and let me eat and have it done with. Jaysus.
Normally under these circumstances, I'd just order something, but I am penny-pinching, remember? I suppose I could spare some money, but I am saving the spare for the Dawn visit just around the corner. So I guess it's just my poor luck that I have no culinary imagination or even the will to cook. Hell, cook - I even lack the will to assemble. It's really pathetic.
So, yeah, the reunion. It was an unexpectedly fab time, but it doesn't mean I'll go to another one any time soon. The cousins -- see, they're okay, mostly. They're teenagers, and while a couple of them are just completely delightful, the others are very... teenagery. Which fine, whatever, but not something to make you come back for more, sheesh. So then there's the parents, my aunts and uncles from afar. And they're very nice and all, and they're not unfriendly. It's just, like, I dunno, like um...
Okay, you know at gatherings? Often at after-funeral things, I notice, but at other large gatherings of people where food is involved and not by caterers? Okay, there is always one woman - or more like 2 or 3 women - who just take charge of the kitchen. You're really obviously not welcome as they commandeer the stove and set the spread and shoo away anyone looking to snitch a bite before it's all ready. And it's not like they're all comaraderie good-times women bonding in there; they are all business and they are in charge and this is what they (and not you) do. I guess what I'm saying is, they're bossy. They bustle about. They set the table and the agenda. They treat it like a mess hall and it's up to them to feed the troops.
I hate these types. I loathe them. They can and often are absolutely wonderful people in their normal lives, but when gatherings like this happen, they spring into action and I want to stab them with their own meat fork. I am not an unruly mouth to be fed, bitches, and it's not your goddamn kitchen and it's not a crime when someone wants to do something beyond setting down the pineapple upside-down cake they brought and which you smiled at before shooing them away like a garbage fly. The whole attitude just sucks the life and the fun out of the gathering. Hatehatehatehatehate.
So yeah, that's how it feels and I hate that feeling and so I won't be anxious for another get-together with the extended family. The great part was the socializing (gossiping and drinking long into the night) with a handful of select people and playing with the rarely seen nieces and the new neff -- and I can do that without driving to Kentucky.
But I'd go again if the fave ex-sis-in-law wants to. Funny - I asked her if she'd heard all the stories about the house and family, and she said she hadn't heard any at all, that she could remember. So off we went to the back room and I started with "This is the oldest section, it's the original log cabin that the slaves built about 200 years ago." And she interrupted me with, "Wait, are you serious? This is 200 years old? You had slaves?"
Her daughter piped up with, "What are slaves, Aunt Beth?" And let me tell you how not-fun it is to answer that question from a 6-year-old with huge beautiful wide blue eyes, especially when your family owned them and you're not exactly a fan of simplistic explanations. But anyway, the ex-sis-in-law was fascinated with all of it, and we wound up down at the old cemetery twice. (As it's at the base of a ridiculously steep hill, I considered it my cardio for the day. Bright side!) It was pretty neat, to have a new and captivated audience, and I was really pretty shocked that my brother hadn't told her any of the stories in all the years they were married. I can't imagine marrying anyone who I didn't tell about the first John coming up the frickin Ohio River on a frickin flatboat. No wonder the marriage didn't last - it's like skipping over your entire childhood, and editing your parents to the point of nonexistence. It's just freaky.
I barely got to see my grandmother. I think she didn't realize it was me, though I spoke slow and loud enough and patiently gave my name several times when she asked. She has good days and bad. These two days were not good ones. It's very upsetting and that's all I'm going to say about it.
So. That was the family reunion.
Should really find something to eat, lest I wake up starved. Shouldn't be so damn difficult, but it is. I also should make myself do some dishes before falling asleep tonight, but then there are a lot of shoulds in this paragraph, now aren't there. Should give you an idea.
Right, toodle-oo.
Oh and PS, we stopped in Indy to have lunch with Dawn, and my 13 year old neff has a massive crush on her. MASSIVE. It cracks me up. Awesome.
Here's a bad thing: I find myself really never wanting to go to work, ever again. It's strange, because it's not a bad job, and these are not horrid awful co-workers. I guess I just have little to no interest in the work, especially now that my travel's been cut. And the office politics are really fucking tiresome. I've been in such worse situations, though, that you'd think I'd be thrilled it's just boring and annoying instead of absolutely soul-crushingly unbearable. Instead, I just feel... empty. Or something. And I keep having this urgent feeling that I'm only getting older and closer to death, and how really absurd it is, in the grand scheme, to spend this little time in doing such unappealing things. Every day, making myself go somewhere I have no interest in seeing.
But anyway, my point is: back to the office tomorrow. With bells on.
I find myself very envious of my cat, whose meal is right there in a bag. Pour it out, and you're done. Voilà, dinner is served. And she loves it, too. Me, I gotta sift through the list of edibles in my head, trying to figure what's in my kitchen that I might use to stop the tummy-growling. There's a loaf of french bread, but it's kinda bland and dry. I have cheddar, eggs, onions, pasta, can of black beans, some leftover curry in the freezer... Oh gawd, I think, I just wish someone would pour out something yummy into a bowl and let me eat and have it done with. Jaysus.
Normally under these circumstances, I'd just order something, but I am penny-pinching, remember? I suppose I could spare some money, but I am saving the spare for the Dawn visit just around the corner. So I guess it's just my poor luck that I have no culinary imagination or even the will to cook. Hell, cook - I even lack the will to assemble. It's really pathetic.
So, yeah, the reunion. It was an unexpectedly fab time, but it doesn't mean I'll go to another one any time soon. The cousins -- see, they're okay, mostly. They're teenagers, and while a couple of them are just completely delightful, the others are very... teenagery. Which fine, whatever, but not something to make you come back for more, sheesh. So then there's the parents, my aunts and uncles from afar. And they're very nice and all, and they're not unfriendly. It's just, like, I dunno, like um...
Okay, you know at gatherings? Often at after-funeral things, I notice, but at other large gatherings of people where food is involved and not by caterers? Okay, there is always one woman - or more like 2 or 3 women - who just take charge of the kitchen. You're really obviously not welcome as they commandeer the stove and set the spread and shoo away anyone looking to snitch a bite before it's all ready. And it's not like they're all comaraderie good-times women bonding in there; they are all business and they are in charge and this is what they (and not you) do. I guess what I'm saying is, they're bossy. They bustle about. They set the table and the agenda. They treat it like a mess hall and it's up to them to feed the troops.
I hate these types. I loathe them. They can and often are absolutely wonderful people in their normal lives, but when gatherings like this happen, they spring into action and I want to stab them with their own meat fork. I am not an unruly mouth to be fed, bitches, and it's not your goddamn kitchen and it's not a crime when someone wants to do something beyond setting down the pineapple upside-down cake they brought and which you smiled at before shooing them away like a garbage fly. The whole attitude just sucks the life and the fun out of the gathering. Hatehatehatehatehate.
So yeah, that's how it feels and I hate that feeling and so I won't be anxious for another get-together with the extended family. The great part was the socializing (gossiping and drinking long into the night) with a handful of select people and playing with the rarely seen nieces and the new neff -- and I can do that without driving to Kentucky.
But I'd go again if the fave ex-sis-in-law wants to. Funny - I asked her if she'd heard all the stories about the house and family, and she said she hadn't heard any at all, that she could remember. So off we went to the back room and I started with "This is the oldest section, it's the original log cabin that the slaves built about 200 years ago." And she interrupted me with, "Wait, are you serious? This is 200 years old? You had slaves?"
Her daughter piped up with, "What are slaves, Aunt Beth?" And let me tell you how not-fun it is to answer that question from a 6-year-old with huge beautiful wide blue eyes, especially when your family owned them and you're not exactly a fan of simplistic explanations. But anyway, the ex-sis-in-law was fascinated with all of it, and we wound up down at the old cemetery twice. (As it's at the base of a ridiculously steep hill, I considered it my cardio for the day. Bright side!) It was pretty neat, to have a new and captivated audience, and I was really pretty shocked that my brother hadn't told her any of the stories in all the years they were married. I can't imagine marrying anyone who I didn't tell about the first John coming up the frickin Ohio River on a frickin flatboat. No wonder the marriage didn't last - it's like skipping over your entire childhood, and editing your parents to the point of nonexistence. It's just freaky.
I barely got to see my grandmother. I think she didn't realize it was me, though I spoke slow and loud enough and patiently gave my name several times when she asked. She has good days and bad. These two days were not good ones. It's very upsetting and that's all I'm going to say about it.
So. That was the family reunion.
Should really find something to eat, lest I wake up starved. Shouldn't be so damn difficult, but it is. I also should make myself do some dishes before falling asleep tonight, but then there are a lot of shoulds in this paragraph, now aren't there. Should give you an idea.
Right, toodle-oo.
Oh and PS, we stopped in Indy to have lunch with Dawn, and my 13 year old neff has a massive crush on her. MASSIVE. It cracks me up. Awesome.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
I am having a stunningly awesome time. Fave ex-sis-in-law came and brought her kids, she and my brother and I sat up drinking and gossiping and laughing in this hotel room til 3am. I think I'll survive.
Well, except for the teeny amount of sleep I'm living on. But still - yay.
Well, except for the teeny amount of sleep I'm living on. But still - yay.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
I am off to this family thing. It's likely to go something like this, but with the extra bonus of my mother and sister thrown into the mix. Please say a prayer for my sanity and my safe return, or sacrifice a goat, deflower a virgin, whatever, choose your poison.
Sigh.
Bye.
Sigh.
Bye.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Honestly, I just need several days in a row without going to work and any contact from any member of my family. Even if I did nothing but sit alone in my apartment and watch Xena reruns or something.
I think it's impossible for my mood to be more awful. I pity anyone in my path today, nearly as much as I pity myself because it's not exactly bliss to be in this mood.
Argh. Life is so fucking stupid.
I think it's impossible for my mood to be more awful. I pity anyone in my path today, nearly as much as I pity myself because it's not exactly bliss to be in this mood.
Argh. Life is so fucking stupid.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
I have to say: I am really, really enjoying the quiet emptiness at the office. And I don't dislike my coworkers at all! It's just so bloody relaxing, not having anyone else around. I think interaction with non-friend humans is more taxing than I realize. I mean we're friendly and all, but there's a very definite outsider feeling on my behalf. I spent the first year trying to overcome it, but I give up.
Funnily enough, the people at work I feel friendly towards - in that "let's have lunch, I'll tell you the latest headache about my niece and you can tell me about how your wedding plans have gone haywire" - those people? They're, like, indirect coworkers. We all work for the same big company, but they work for a different subsidiary-like group. Anyway, those people are still around, with desks down the aisle from me, and I'm glad they're not gone. But I am slightly surprised at how much I don't miss my true coworkers.
So right, my aunt called last night, in need of the pb cookie recipe, and she mentioned that Saturday evening will be a little party. It's her bday, so that's fine - and now that I know something's been arranged, I suppose I should nix my plan to bring her a bday cake (for fear of an overabundance of cake - besides, she always wants me to cook the actual dinner, not dessert, especially now that the tomatoes are coming in and she wants me to cook Italianish. But ANYWAY.) Now I'm annoyed because like a reunion on Sunday isn't enough? Now there's a formal birthday party gathering on Saturday?
Jesus fucking christ. It's anough to make you want to claw your eyes out. Not to mention, I am suddenly quite certain that the farmhouse will be packed with cousins who choose it over a hotel, and that this will drive us to give up our cheapy free sleeping spots and head to the Best Western. Honestly, the thought of sharing a living space with either my siblings or my cousins even for one night is enough to make me bust open the piggy bank.
Argh. I will never again agree to go to one of these, not even if all my favorite family members sign up. Never. Ever. Do you hear me? NEVER.
I should make a list of foodstuffs to take with me. A good olive oil, and good pasta, and good mozzarella, and good crusty bread -- these things do not exist in the stores downhome. And there's no way I can drizzle some crap olive oil over lovely fresh tomatoes and basil. Also I should take this opportunity to say thank You Starbucks, for inventing an instant coffee that is actually palatable. Because my mother's side of the family just makes the most revolting brew, so these little Via packets I've horded will make the weekend entirely bearable.
In related news, I am worried about Thunder for these 3 days I'll be away. I mean she's fine to be alone for three days, but the problem is that she looooooooves this new diet cat food I got her. I had her on the Iams for a couple of months and she ate it and all was well. But then - because I try to keep thing culinarily exciting for us both - I got a new Purina version, and good lord does she love it. She sucks it down like it's fresh tuna or something. So now I'm worried that I'll put down 3 day's worth of food and she'll eat it all before Day 2. She does tend to eat less when I'm not around, so that might slow her.
And the hilarious thing is that the cat food bag is right there - it's on an extreeeeemely low shelf, like a foot away from her food bowl - and yet she never busts into it. She could easily push it over and let the yumminess spill out. Or rip a hole in the bag with her claw, which is what our cats always did when I was a kid. But no - she never does this, no matter how much she likes the food and how empty her bowl is. It's like it's beneath her dignity or something. Slays me.
Anyway, I should get one of those automatic bowls, like this one. Wonder if I can find one before Saturday? Eh, probly not.
Ack, must get dressed
Funnily enough, the people at work I feel friendly towards - in that "let's have lunch, I'll tell you the latest headache about my niece and you can tell me about how your wedding plans have gone haywire" - those people? They're, like, indirect coworkers. We all work for the same big company, but they work for a different subsidiary-like group. Anyway, those people are still around, with desks down the aisle from me, and I'm glad they're not gone. But I am slightly surprised at how much I don't miss my true coworkers.
So right, my aunt called last night, in need of the pb cookie recipe, and she mentioned that Saturday evening will be a little party. It's her bday, so that's fine - and now that I know something's been arranged, I suppose I should nix my plan to bring her a bday cake (for fear of an overabundance of cake - besides, she always wants me to cook the actual dinner, not dessert, especially now that the tomatoes are coming in and she wants me to cook Italianish. But ANYWAY.) Now I'm annoyed because like a reunion on Sunday isn't enough? Now there's a formal birthday party gathering on Saturday?
Jesus fucking christ. It's anough to make you want to claw your eyes out. Not to mention, I am suddenly quite certain that the farmhouse will be packed with cousins who choose it over a hotel, and that this will drive us to give up our cheapy free sleeping spots and head to the Best Western. Honestly, the thought of sharing a living space with either my siblings or my cousins even for one night is enough to make me bust open the piggy bank.
Argh. I will never again agree to go to one of these, not even if all my favorite family members sign up. Never. Ever. Do you hear me? NEVER.
I should make a list of foodstuffs to take with me. A good olive oil, and good pasta, and good mozzarella, and good crusty bread -- these things do not exist in the stores downhome. And there's no way I can drizzle some crap olive oil over lovely fresh tomatoes and basil. Also I should take this opportunity to say thank You Starbucks, for inventing an instant coffee that is actually palatable. Because my mother's side of the family just makes the most revolting brew, so these little Via packets I've horded will make the weekend entirely bearable.
In related news, I am worried about Thunder for these 3 days I'll be away. I mean she's fine to be alone for three days, but the problem is that she looooooooves this new diet cat food I got her. I had her on the Iams for a couple of months and she ate it and all was well. But then - because I try to keep thing culinarily exciting for us both - I got a new Purina version, and good lord does she love it. She sucks it down like it's fresh tuna or something. So now I'm worried that I'll put down 3 day's worth of food and she'll eat it all before Day 2. She does tend to eat less when I'm not around, so that might slow her.
And the hilarious thing is that the cat food bag is right there - it's on an extreeeeemely low shelf, like a foot away from her food bowl - and yet she never busts into it. She could easily push it over and let the yumminess spill out. Or rip a hole in the bag with her claw, which is what our cats always did when I was a kid. But no - she never does this, no matter how much she likes the food and how empty her bowl is. It's like it's beneath her dignity or something. Slays me.
Anyway, I should get one of those automatic bowls, like this one. Wonder if I can find one before Saturday? Eh, probly not.
Ack, must get dressed
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Last night, I slept a full, uninterrupted nine hours. It was pretty amazing. Beats me why I can't manage something like this on most weeknights, but I can't. I guess I'll keep trying.
This morning, Thunder didn't poke me to wake me - or mangle the blinds, or claw the book next to my bed, or yowl into my ears. She just stretch out in the morning sun next to my head, and purred quite softly. After I was done with the morning foo-faw and settled down with my coffee to read the news, she sat on my lap and purred some more. It bummed us both out when it was time to get up and get to work. Dunno what caused her mood, but I wish I could replicate it.
This constitutes the only headline today that not only *doesn't* make me roll my eyes, but actually makes me smile. And I don't just mean the actual news that it conveys, but the actual headline itself. Honestly, if you think you're getting the news from reading the headlines, you are so so SO very wrong, because the headlines - especially now that it's all about getting you to click on a link - are both beyond absurd and truly misleading, at least 80% of the time.
Am in a slightly better mood than last night, but not by all that much. I need to clean the apartment - more than just a basic straightening - and I'm at a point where I know I'll only do it when I have a lot of time and energy. I don't seem to have much of either, and the clutter-n-dust is getting to me. Which just makes me really annoyed with myself, for obvious reasons.
Arrrrrrgh I need olive oil. How could I forget to buy olive oil? HOW? SO STUPID OF ME. Pardon me while I sit here and fash myself. Yes, you heard me. Fash.
Incidentally, I am really digging these earlier work hours. Surprising, but true. It just goes by so much faster. And then there's all this daylight at the end of the day. Totally cool.
This morning, Thunder didn't poke me to wake me - or mangle the blinds, or claw the book next to my bed, or yowl into my ears. She just stretch out in the morning sun next to my head, and purred quite softly. After I was done with the morning foo-faw and settled down with my coffee to read the news, she sat on my lap and purred some more. It bummed us both out when it was time to get up and get to work. Dunno what caused her mood, but I wish I could replicate it.
This constitutes the only headline today that not only *doesn't* make me roll my eyes, but actually makes me smile. And I don't just mean the actual news that it conveys, but the actual headline itself. Honestly, if you think you're getting the news from reading the headlines, you are so so SO very wrong, because the headlines - especially now that it's all about getting you to click on a link - are both beyond absurd and truly misleading, at least 80% of the time.
Am in a slightly better mood than last night, but not by all that much. I need to clean the apartment - more than just a basic straightening - and I'm at a point where I know I'll only do it when I have a lot of time and energy. I don't seem to have much of either, and the clutter-n-dust is getting to me. Which just makes me really annoyed with myself, for obvious reasons.
Arrrrrrgh I need olive oil. How could I forget to buy olive oil? HOW? SO STUPID OF ME. Pardon me while I sit here and fash myself. Yes, you heard me. Fash.
Incidentally, I am really digging these earlier work hours. Surprising, but true. It just goes by so much faster. And then there's all this daylight at the end of the day. Totally cool.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Well, take a look at comments on the last post, for your SBD. (Of course writing about writing counts, Chazzy.) I read Year of Wonders and it was pretty great, despite frequent descriptions of plague buboes. Before that (and after the enjoyable Magician's Assistant), I read and greatly enjoyed Let The Northern Lights Erase Your Name. Someone here in comments recommended it, so thank you. Now I've begun Susannah Morrow, but I find I'm impatient with the prose. It's too... descriptive, or something. So I may put it aside for a while.
Anyway. That's all. I'm in a horrid mood, so let's call it a night, shall we?
Anyway. That's all. I'm in a horrid mood, so let's call it a night, shall we?
Hi hello it's SBD, but I doubt anyone much has stuff to say beyond "I went to RWA, look at my blog/twitter/whateverelse!"
But if you have something else to say besides that, do let us know, eh?
I get done with work early today, so I may be able to eke out a post tonight.
But if you have something else to say besides that, do let us know, eh?
I get done with work early today, so I may be able to eke out a post tonight.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
I have fallen into this really horrible pattern of sleeping too much on the weekends. Even when I get enough sleep - or near enough - during the week, I seem to just doze half my weekend away. It just can't be healthy.
Oh shit. I was supposed to buy a fucking tomato cage. ARGH.
What it comes down to is: I need a week off. And I haven't asked for one until like October, though now I DON'T know why I asked for it then. I guess I figured I might have some extra money to spend by then. Hah. Talk about your wishful thinking.
I'm skipping the niece's grad party today. It feels fantastico.
Oh shit. I was supposed to buy a fucking tomato cage. ARGH.
What it comes down to is: I need a week off. And I haven't asked for one until like October, though now I DON'T know why I asked for it then. I guess I figured I might have some extra money to spend by then. Hah. Talk about your wishful thinking.
I'm skipping the niece's grad party today. It feels fantastico.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
I am irrationally angry and I am not going to think about it so instead I'll
Okay, hi! Whilst in the midst of that sentence, my phone rang and it was Dawn and she is the perfect person to unload all my family bullshit on, bless her soul, so the intense irrational anger has eased off now that I've been permitted to seethe aloud. Plus, Dawn always brings out the humour in me, so I cheer myself up by cracking wise, along with all the seething aloud. Ahhhhhhh, release.
So my tomato plant - in the large flower pot, remember, on my windowsill - is like THREE FEET TALL now. Which is insane. I need a tomato cage, but guess how hard it is to find a tomato cage anywhere within a mile of here or reasonable walking distance from public transport? (Answer: It is impossible.) So I've had to put it off because I had the smashed-up car and then I didn't have time for it over the holiday weekend and I gotta drive all the way over to the Very Inconvenient Garden Store, yadda yadda and then I came home tonight and the plant has at last flopped over. It was spread out and resting its long gangly self on the window, which was obviously too miraculous to last. And now it's flopped over onto the (fabulous-smelling and terrific-tasting) basil plant. Can it wait a few days until I can go to the Very Inconvenient Garden Store?
Snookie said to stick a ruler in there to help prop it up. She overlooks the fact that I am not the kind of person who has a ruler just hanging around the house. (The three feet tall thing is a guesstimate.) I did stick some chopsticks in there, in the hopes of lending some sort of aid, but it did nothing, aside from making it look like a very odd entree.
Changing topic, I've been doing this new workout and I can already sense myself getting bored. Which is stupid, because it should take at least a month before the boredom sets in - or it should take at least until I can master all the moves and OMG I most certainly cannot do all the moves, not even the beginner modifications. But when it comes to exercise, I am not exactly Little Miss Persistence. It turns out I'm more like an ADHD toddler. So I'm thinking I'll start buying new workout dvd's every month. Once I build up a liberry of say 10 different enjoyable workouts, I will stop buying and continuously rotate the dvd's - like every other week, I get a new routine. Does that sound like a good plan? It does to me, but I'm an ADHD toddler, so what the fuck do I know? Anyway, if you have any recommendations for workout dvd's, email them to me. All I ask for is a minimum of 20 minutes cardio (preferably 30) and some basic strength training that doesn't require a bench press. Oh, and not too much jumping about because (a) the doctor says low-impact, and (b) I like my downstairs neighbor. Thanks!
In other news, I will be working an earlier shift than usual next week, since I will be the only one in the office and have to cover the phones. I am conflicted about this, as I enjoy my leisurely non-rushed mornings and how much less crowded the trains are at that usual slightly later hour. Yet I love the idea of being slightly asleep for that first hour at work (making the time pass blearily and more quickly) and leaving a whole hour earlier. Alls I know is, as sleep-deprived as I've felt this week, next week will inevitably feel worse. Eh.
Further, I have decided to ditch the niece's bday party. The excuse I will give is a true one (and hats off to Dawn for pointing it out): I don't have money for an extra half-tank of gas to drive to the far south-side burb, not when I will be hauling my ass to Kentucky the very next weekend. Budget is tight, can't do both weekends, sorry. And besides, I'll be seeing the niece - actually driving her to the family reunion. So I'm not ditching her, I'm just ditching a family event at her father's house. The real reason - or I should say the deciding factor in - why I'm not going is a pretty simple one: I don't want to. Hate the brother, hate the brother's wife, hate the brother's house, hate the drive, not too happy with the niece, will barely know anyone there and am sure not to want to hang out with the ones who I DO know, and it only would matter that I show up instead of mattering that I'm there. You know how that goes, right? Those gatherings where you put in a little face time, you get hugs and greetings and "so happy you could make it!" when you walk in the door, but then you're pretty much ignored the rest of the time because the only thing that matters is that you showed your face. In my family, skipping these kinds of affairs always leads to years of my mother - and in this case my brother - bitching about how "you didn't even show up at your niece's graduation party!" But that doesn't faze me since I long ago discovered the perfect response to that, which is "Shut the fuck up, you manipulative cow."
Ergo, I am free as a bird this weekend. Which means I have no excuse not to go to the Very Inconvenient Garden Store and buy a tomato cage.
Okay and now I am signing off because remember how I'm gonna get enough sleep tonight for once? Yeah. YEAH.
toots!
Okay, hi! Whilst in the midst of that sentence, my phone rang and it was Dawn and she is the perfect person to unload all my family bullshit on, bless her soul, so the intense irrational anger has eased off now that I've been permitted to seethe aloud. Plus, Dawn always brings out the humour in me, so I cheer myself up by cracking wise, along with all the seething aloud. Ahhhhhhh, release.
So my tomato plant - in the large flower pot, remember, on my windowsill - is like THREE FEET TALL now. Which is insane. I need a tomato cage, but guess how hard it is to find a tomato cage anywhere within a mile of here or reasonable walking distance from public transport? (Answer: It is impossible.) So I've had to put it off because I had the smashed-up car and then I didn't have time for it over the holiday weekend and I gotta drive all the way over to the Very Inconvenient Garden Store, yadda yadda and then I came home tonight and the plant has at last flopped over. It was spread out and resting its long gangly self on the window, which was obviously too miraculous to last. And now it's flopped over onto the (fabulous-smelling and terrific-tasting) basil plant. Can it wait a few days until I can go to the Very Inconvenient Garden Store?
Snookie said to stick a ruler in there to help prop it up. She overlooks the fact that I am not the kind of person who has a ruler just hanging around the house. (The three feet tall thing is a guesstimate.) I did stick some chopsticks in there, in the hopes of lending some sort of aid, but it did nothing, aside from making it look like a very odd entree.
Changing topic, I've been doing this new workout and I can already sense myself getting bored. Which is stupid, because it should take at least a month before the boredom sets in - or it should take at least until I can master all the moves and OMG I most certainly cannot do all the moves, not even the beginner modifications. But when it comes to exercise, I am not exactly Little Miss Persistence. It turns out I'm more like an ADHD toddler. So I'm thinking I'll start buying new workout dvd's every month. Once I build up a liberry of say 10 different enjoyable workouts, I will stop buying and continuously rotate the dvd's - like every other week, I get a new routine. Does that sound like a good plan? It does to me, but I'm an ADHD toddler, so what the fuck do I know? Anyway, if you have any recommendations for workout dvd's, email them to me. All I ask for is a minimum of 20 minutes cardio (preferably 30) and some basic strength training that doesn't require a bench press. Oh, and not too much jumping about because (a) the doctor says low-impact, and (b) I like my downstairs neighbor. Thanks!
In other news, I will be working an earlier shift than usual next week, since I will be the only one in the office and have to cover the phones. I am conflicted about this, as I enjoy my leisurely non-rushed mornings and how much less crowded the trains are at that usual slightly later hour. Yet I love the idea of being slightly asleep for that first hour at work (making the time pass blearily and more quickly) and leaving a whole hour earlier. Alls I know is, as sleep-deprived as I've felt this week, next week will inevitably feel worse. Eh.
Further, I have decided to ditch the niece's bday party. The excuse I will give is a true one (and hats off to Dawn for pointing it out): I don't have money for an extra half-tank of gas to drive to the far south-side burb, not when I will be hauling my ass to Kentucky the very next weekend. Budget is tight, can't do both weekends, sorry. And besides, I'll be seeing the niece - actually driving her to the family reunion. So I'm not ditching her, I'm just ditching a family event at her father's house. The real reason - or I should say the deciding factor in - why I'm not going is a pretty simple one: I don't want to. Hate the brother, hate the brother's wife, hate the brother's house, hate the drive, not too happy with the niece, will barely know anyone there and am sure not to want to hang out with the ones who I DO know, and it only would matter that I show up instead of mattering that I'm there. You know how that goes, right? Those gatherings where you put in a little face time, you get hugs and greetings and "so happy you could make it!" when you walk in the door, but then you're pretty much ignored the rest of the time because the only thing that matters is that you showed your face. In my family, skipping these kinds of affairs always leads to years of my mother - and in this case my brother - bitching about how "you didn't even show up at your niece's graduation party!" But that doesn't faze me since I long ago discovered the perfect response to that, which is "Shut the fuck up, you manipulative cow."
Ergo, I am free as a bird this weekend. Which means I have no excuse not to go to the Very Inconvenient Garden Store and buy a tomato cage.
Okay and now I am signing off because remember how I'm gonna get enough sleep tonight for once? Yeah. YEAH.
toots!
I vow to go to bed early tonight, so that I don't start my day yet again with wishing I could just crawl back into bed for another hour. I also vow not to drink anything after 7pm, so I don't wake to pee in the middle of the night. And check that the cat's water bowl is full because when the level gets too low, the motor makes this annoying noise that wakes me. And... and that's all I can think of, but I vow to do it because then maybe I will sleep through the night for enough hours and I won't be sitting here with my second giant mug of coffee at 8 in the morning and whining about how tirrrrrrred I am.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Oh for godsakes, hilzoy is retiring from blogging and I am so very upset about it. If you never read her, you should've. I never realized how much I counted on her perspective to help me figure out where I stood on any particular issue. I did however always realize how jealous I am of her ability to be civil and intelligent and rational and articulate (and just generally not a raving froth-at-the-mouth fanatic looney) about her most deeply held beliefs, because gads I wish I could be all gracious and reasonable when faced with wrong-headed fools. And now off she goes, and obviously she has a right to and I'd be the last person to insist she owes her readers anything, but it doesn't keep me from pouting and growling and making that I Am Going To Throw A Tantrum In About Three Seconds face. You know, this one:
I'd go on and on about how the lack of continual outrage or whining or smugness - or all those many other off-putting aspects of political bloggers - how the lack of it made her writing always so very very readable and pertinent and blah blah blah, but it's all in the comment section, the only comment section on the web where I've never felt remotely smart enough to speak up. So I will just sit here and pout and feel sorry for myself.
Wow, who knew I was so attached? Not me. But I am. And so I pout.
So there.
I'd go on and on about how the lack of continual outrage or whining or smugness - or all those many other off-putting aspects of political bloggers - how the lack of it made her writing always so very very readable and pertinent and blah blah blah, but it's all in the comment section, the only comment section on the web where I've never felt remotely smart enough to speak up. So I will just sit here and pout and feel sorry for myself.Wow, who knew I was so attached? Not me. But I am. And so I pout.
So there.
Monday, July 13, 2009
You know when you just realllllly want to crawl back into bed for a few hours and not go to work, but there's no way you can do that because it's the busiest week of the year? That's where I'm at, emotionally. I dragged myself awake, did the work-out (not giving 100%, but I DID it, okay), took the shower, made the coffee, and sit here sucking it down and it's not making a dent. I just want to go back to sleep.
But I can't. I must dress myself and dry my hair and put some salad in a lunch container and oh gads I am exhausted just thinking about it. Thank sweet baby ganesh that there's more coffee to be had.
There is also SBD to be written. Anyone?
I may tell you about the book I read this weekend, briefly. It was good. But then again I may come home and fall asleep by 8pm, since it's looking like One Of Those Mondays.
More coffee now. See youse tonight.
But I can't. I must dress myself and dry my hair and put some salad in a lunch container and oh gads I am exhausted just thinking about it. Thank sweet baby ganesh that there's more coffee to be had.
There is also SBD to be written. Anyone?
I may tell you about the book I read this weekend, briefly. It was good. But then again I may come home and fall asleep by 8pm, since it's looking like One Of Those Mondays.
More coffee now. See youse tonight.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Eh, I'm okay. I will be, anyway. I sweated buckets yesterday, then walked miles, read and nap and talk and hope, blah di blah di blah. I've always been a talker (much to the irritation of so many friends and family) so a good long blab to a kind and patient semi-stranger has both worn me out and energized me. Like it's a manageable thing, this life, these problems. as detached as I am from so much of life, it's a good sign when I get sucked into messy emotional details. Means I'm not completely a zombie. That I matter a little to someone and maybe more importantly, that someones matter immensely to me even as I float along in this not-quite life.
But anyway.
My apartment's a mess - the entirely tameable kind - so I should spend today cleaning it. Clothes to hang and dishes to wash and floors to swiffer and seeds to plant. All this despite the very convincing pleadings of my cat, who just wants me to lay about for a few hours together. I must say that it's not laziness that dictates me on days like this, when I struggle to get the basic housework done. It's just boredom. It's a boring activity, done for a ot of very good reasons, but since none of those reasons include anything at all fun, it seems pointless to me. Clearing and dusting and organizing because a friend's coming to visit? It's a pleasure. I used to motivate myself to clean the kitchen by thinking of al lthe things I'd like to cook. But feeding myself isn't nearly as motivating as it used to be.
Eh. Same old whine. I predict I'll be whining it twenty years from now and I am quite aware of how uninteresting I am. But you know, if I wait until I have anything new to say or anything different about my life? I'd abandon the blog for like years at a time, sadly enough. I wish quite fervently that I could be like Lyvvie, off to a new life in Australia. Keep wishing.
So. One more week of crazy-crazy stress at work, then the niece's grad party (ugh), then a week of quiet at work, then the family reunion. Oh family fucking reunion, how I dread thee. But then the fam stuff is largely done and Dawn will be visit in early August. So really, it's July that's such a slog. I can't wait for it to be over.
But anyway.
My apartment's a mess - the entirely tameable kind - so I should spend today cleaning it. Clothes to hang and dishes to wash and floors to swiffer and seeds to plant. All this despite the very convincing pleadings of my cat, who just wants me to lay about for a few hours together. I must say that it's not laziness that dictates me on days like this, when I struggle to get the basic housework done. It's just boredom. It's a boring activity, done for a ot of very good reasons, but since none of those reasons include anything at all fun, it seems pointless to me. Clearing and dusting and organizing because a friend's coming to visit? It's a pleasure. I used to motivate myself to clean the kitchen by thinking of al lthe things I'd like to cook. But feeding myself isn't nearly as motivating as it used to be.
Eh. Same old whine. I predict I'll be whining it twenty years from now and I am quite aware of how uninteresting I am. But you know, if I wait until I have anything new to say or anything different about my life? I'd abandon the blog for like years at a time, sadly enough. I wish quite fervently that I could be like Lyvvie, off to a new life in Australia. Keep wishing.
So. One more week of crazy-crazy stress at work, then the niece's grad party (ugh), then a week of quiet at work, then the family reunion. Oh family fucking reunion, how I dread thee. But then the fam stuff is largely done and Dawn will be visit in early August. So really, it's July that's such a slog. I can't wait for it to be over.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Tired but restless, wish I could sleep a solid stretch of more than 5 hours. Maybe it's the light in the morning. I should shut the blinds tonight.
It's the busy time at work, rush rush rush. At the intersection of family and finances, restless nights are born. And the chronic anger of my brother's house, following me. And no relief, no fun planned to look forward to. no sitting in the back of a dim pub, talking with a friend for hours about it all until your tongue is tired and dry. All the crap and none of the relief, as is so often the case. It's not bleak or anything. Just hard.
When I was little - even up to when I was a teeenager - I used to crawl into bed with my mom. She'd sleepily open the covers to me, and I'd tuck myself in. Her arm around me. It was the safest place in the whole universe. Warm and close and loved and cared for. There's no substitute for it. I'd kill for five minutes of that kind of hug. And it's gone baby gone.
I saw a bee flying next to the train yesterday. It kept up with us for a while - slow train, fast bee. Then it was gone, and I thought how wondrous it would be if I could float along behind it, follow it through its day. Somewhere new and impossible, where every action has a purpose. A whole minute world inside of our own, tiny zooming through the city, over cars and between buildings, next to great rumbling trains and spans of concrete that have no meaning. There's just home and fellows and flowers and whooshing air and the insignificant mystery of trains chugging through it all.
Well. I should try to sleep. Close the blinds first. See if I it past dawn.
It's the busy time at work, rush rush rush. At the intersection of family and finances, restless nights are born. And the chronic anger of my brother's house, following me. And no relief, no fun planned to look forward to. no sitting in the back of a dim pub, talking with a friend for hours about it all until your tongue is tired and dry. All the crap and none of the relief, as is so often the case. It's not bleak or anything. Just hard.
When I was little - even up to when I was a teeenager - I used to crawl into bed with my mom. She'd sleepily open the covers to me, and I'd tuck myself in. Her arm around me. It was the safest place in the whole universe. Warm and close and loved and cared for. There's no substitute for it. I'd kill for five minutes of that kind of hug. And it's gone baby gone.
I saw a bee flying next to the train yesterday. It kept up with us for a while - slow train, fast bee. Then it was gone, and I thought how wondrous it would be if I could float along behind it, follow it through its day. Somewhere new and impossible, where every action has a purpose. A whole minute world inside of our own, tiny zooming through the city, over cars and between buildings, next to great rumbling trains and spans of concrete that have no meaning. There's just home and fellows and flowers and whooshing air and the insignificant mystery of trains chugging through it all.
Well. I should try to sleep. Close the blinds first. See if I it past dawn.
Friday, July 10, 2009
I have a frozen thin-crust pizza in the freezer and a single beer in the crisper and some chick-flick DVD sitting on the TV. All of these things are patiently awaiting my return from work tonight and, even before I walk out the door to work (persistent tension headache in the left temple, gut vehemently disagreeing with the level of stress in my life, face dotted with zits as though I'm 17), I am so frikken excited to get home to a Friday night alone with my pizza, my beer, and my chick-flick that it's all I can think about. I am so glad I have that beer, dammit, and I cannot wait to come home and drink it.
Happy Friday, y'all.
Happy Friday, y'all.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Yesterday, I called my DMP (debt management program) to ask a couple of general questions in re credit of various kinds - they sort of function as my personal financial advisors since they (a) have automatic withdrawal capabilities from my checking account and (b) at one time mapped out the details of my budget down to how many long-distance calls I make per year. Of course they can't see my savings account or my pay-stubs, so I don't feel TOO naked and violated. This leads to a level of trust, despite my usually hysterical level of privacy in all things related to my dollars-n-cents.
Anyway, so I called and before I could ask my questions, the counselor on the other end told me I have an "impeccable" account. I pay on time; I pay the full amount; I voluntarily increased the monthly payment; I report all my balances and creditor communications (a.k.a. statements) every month. This apparently makes me a stellar client. She couldn't stop praising me for my total awesomeness.
Which feels good and all because yeah, of course - yay me. But that note of excitement in her voice makes me wonder what kinds of people she normally deals with, the kind of minority that I must be in. It would seem that simply following the rules is all it takes to achieve Total Awesomeness.
It is, of course, deeply embarrassing to me that I have had to resort to this plan, that my debt became so unmanageable. I always knew that signing up for a DMP would be a sign of my throwing in the towel. Like, I give up trying to figure out how to pay my own bills, can you please play the parent and fix it for me? Give me the rules and I promise to obey, just so long as you fix it for me. Please. In terms of priorities, my #1 has always been to pay the rent. Keeping a roof over your head comes before all else. I can deal without food, or even phone or electricity or water, if I have to - but never, ever lose the roof over my head. This is why, in all my financial problems, I have never, ever been without rent money, even though it's my largest bill.
Then I went on this program and the payment immediately became my #2 priority -- only rent can trump it. I mean - they suck the funds straight out of my bank account, for one thing, but they also make it very clear that if you're late or you shortpay? That's it. The end. All bets are off. The credit companies who they convinced to give you an 8% interest rate can and likely will hike that right up to 30%. Or even just demand payment in full immediately. Or god knows what else, the fuckin credit card companies are nothing but rapacious thieves that would scandalize Erik the Red, for godsakes, of course that payment is my priority. I don't want to unleash the powers of hell on myself.
The fact that there are people who are in debt over their ears, who do not see things this way? Is shocking to me. It felt a little like a doctor congratulating me for taking the medicine prescribed.
Anyway, silly tangent. I'm still worrying myself into an ulcer and expect to begin bruxing anytime. In the meantime, I'm swilling cheap wine and indulging in some woeful stares into the distance. I just feel remarkably alone, abandoned. Every once in a while, I think to myself this is the kind of time it'd be nice to be married. A good marriage, that is - a partner, someone to hold your hand and prop you up for a little while when things are so fucking hard to figure out.
And when I'm wistfully thinking about how nice a spouse might be, you know that things are really not going well chez Beth. It'll pass, as it does each time the feeling rolls around (every couple of years, I guess it is?) and the wine is helping things. Maybe a couple more rounds of desperate despairful tears. A decent night of sleep would probably not hurt much.
Right-o.
Anyway, so I called and before I could ask my questions, the counselor on the other end told me I have an "impeccable" account. I pay on time; I pay the full amount; I voluntarily increased the monthly payment; I report all my balances and creditor communications (a.k.a. statements) every month. This apparently makes me a stellar client. She couldn't stop praising me for my total awesomeness.
Which feels good and all because yeah, of course - yay me. But that note of excitement in her voice makes me wonder what kinds of people she normally deals with, the kind of minority that I must be in. It would seem that simply following the rules is all it takes to achieve Total Awesomeness.
It is, of course, deeply embarrassing to me that I have had to resort to this plan, that my debt became so unmanageable. I always knew that signing up for a DMP would be a sign of my throwing in the towel. Like, I give up trying to figure out how to pay my own bills, can you please play the parent and fix it for me? Give me the rules and I promise to obey, just so long as you fix it for me. Please. In terms of priorities, my #1 has always been to pay the rent. Keeping a roof over your head comes before all else. I can deal without food, or even phone or electricity or water, if I have to - but never, ever lose the roof over my head. This is why, in all my financial problems, I have never, ever been without rent money, even though it's my largest bill.
Then I went on this program and the payment immediately became my #2 priority -- only rent can trump it. I mean - they suck the funds straight out of my bank account, for one thing, but they also make it very clear that if you're late or you shortpay? That's it. The end. All bets are off. The credit companies who they convinced to give you an 8% interest rate can and likely will hike that right up to 30%. Or even just demand payment in full immediately. Or god knows what else, the fuckin credit card companies are nothing but rapacious thieves that would scandalize Erik the Red, for godsakes, of course that payment is my priority. I don't want to unleash the powers of hell on myself.
The fact that there are people who are in debt over their ears, who do not see things this way? Is shocking to me. It felt a little like a doctor congratulating me for taking the medicine prescribed.
Anyway, silly tangent. I'm still worrying myself into an ulcer and expect to begin bruxing anytime. In the meantime, I'm swilling cheap wine and indulging in some woeful stares into the distance. I just feel remarkably alone, abandoned. Every once in a while, I think to myself this is the kind of time it'd be nice to be married. A good marriage, that is - a partner, someone to hold your hand and prop you up for a little while when things are so fucking hard to figure out.
And when I'm wistfully thinking about how nice a spouse might be, you know that things are really not going well chez Beth. It'll pass, as it does each time the feeling rolls around (every couple of years, I guess it is?) and the wine is helping things. Maybe a couple more rounds of desperate despairful tears. A decent night of sleep would probably not hurt much.
Right-o.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
God almighty do I ever hate this mood. It's not even a mood, it's just a state of being. It's this thorough, absolute, down to the bone Uncertainty. I don't have a single clue what to do and I have to figure out what to do - a decision to be made, and I'm the only one who can make it. And I have no idea what the right answer is. None. And it will majorly affect a life, whatever I decide.
Maybe I'm putting too much thought into it, I dunno. Or too much weight on it. Meantime, I have the other weight of what's going on with my brother, just pressing on me, trailing around behind me like an injured puppydog. I should follow up, be sure not to disengage, make sure the situation doesn't just keep slipping slipping slipping while I turn a blind eye. But I feel like the eye-talian on that: it's so much easier to just avoid, to pretend like it's not happening, not my business, I can't solve it anyway. But if I don't try, I'll never forgive myself, I'll beat myself up over it til I'm in the grave, and it's already keeping me up at night.
Right, so - two issues and the same question: what do I do? Because not doing is not an option. One issue I could avoid, but can't in good conscience - but this other, I can't avoid unless I go into a coma for many months or something. And in both cases, I have no idea what the fuck to do. And, naturally, the stakes are terrifyingly high and even if I could take an hour or two to hash through it with some patient friend or another - and I can't think of anyone patient or interested enough, or anyone who really has time for my shit - in the end it's me who has to decide. Normally, I'd just pour it all out here but, aside from all the backstory being terribly complicated and long-winded, it's family. I can't bring myself to get so very detailed about their lives. (Their characters, sure - but not the nitty gritty of their lives.)
So I don't know. I'm all paralyzed and hemming and hawing and wondering how long I can stay on the verge of helpless tears, because I can't seem to shake that unsettling verge-of-panicked-tears thing and it's all very overwhelming, you know. And I'm only good at things with clear (or clear-to-me) answers and obvious actions and things that are indisputably 100% from all angles entirely my own responsibility. Instead, this tangential observer who is suddenly become a very key player for an important transitory phase of other peoples' lives - that role? I am not so good at it. As evidenced by the fact that I am seriously considering taking the ten bucks in my wallet (all I have as discretionary funds to get me through the next two weeks) and blowing it on a pack of cigarettes and smoking each and every one down to the filter, while simultaneously chewing off all ten fingernails and twisting my fingers until they fall off because I just don't know, goddammit.
It's not like I ever believed life would get any less complicated or that decisions would one day be easier. It's just that I manage to so easily slip into that state of denial for ages, convinced I'm such a clever girl for avoiding so many of life's messiest traps, until one day I suddenly find myself in an impossible entanglement. It's all tra la la, isn't this a nice smooth path until you all of a sudden trip and find yourself face down and concussed in a snarling mass of knots.
Fuckin A, man.
Maybe I'm putting too much thought into it, I dunno. Or too much weight on it. Meantime, I have the other weight of what's going on with my brother, just pressing on me, trailing around behind me like an injured puppydog. I should follow up, be sure not to disengage, make sure the situation doesn't just keep slipping slipping slipping while I turn a blind eye. But I feel like the eye-talian on that: it's so much easier to just avoid, to pretend like it's not happening, not my business, I can't solve it anyway. But if I don't try, I'll never forgive myself, I'll beat myself up over it til I'm in the grave, and it's already keeping me up at night.
Right, so - two issues and the same question: what do I do? Because not doing is not an option. One issue I could avoid, but can't in good conscience - but this other, I can't avoid unless I go into a coma for many months or something. And in both cases, I have no idea what the fuck to do. And, naturally, the stakes are terrifyingly high and even if I could take an hour or two to hash through it with some patient friend or another - and I can't think of anyone patient or interested enough, or anyone who really has time for my shit - in the end it's me who has to decide. Normally, I'd just pour it all out here but, aside from all the backstory being terribly complicated and long-winded, it's family. I can't bring myself to get so very detailed about their lives. (Their characters, sure - but not the nitty gritty of their lives.)
So I don't know. I'm all paralyzed and hemming and hawing and wondering how long I can stay on the verge of helpless tears, because I can't seem to shake that unsettling verge-of-panicked-tears thing and it's all very overwhelming, you know. And I'm only good at things with clear (or clear-to-me) answers and obvious actions and things that are indisputably 100% from all angles entirely my own responsibility. Instead, this tangential observer who is suddenly become a very key player for an important transitory phase of other peoples' lives - that role? I am not so good at it. As evidenced by the fact that I am seriously considering taking the ten bucks in my wallet (all I have as discretionary funds to get me through the next two weeks) and blowing it on a pack of cigarettes and smoking each and every one down to the filter, while simultaneously chewing off all ten fingernails and twisting my fingers until they fall off because I just don't know, goddammit.
It's not like I ever believed life would get any less complicated or that decisions would one day be easier. It's just that I manage to so easily slip into that state of denial for ages, convinced I'm such a clever girl for avoiding so many of life's messiest traps, until one day I suddenly find myself in an impossible entanglement. It's all tra la la, isn't this a nice smooth path until you all of a sudden trip and find yourself face down and concussed in a snarling mass of knots.
Fuckin A, man.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Okay, as ever, jmc comes through. Yay jmc woo hoo! (I am not as energetic as that exclamation point would imply, but I am that happy, about the SBDing.)
My own wee SBDette is that I just finished reading The Magician's Assistant and I was glued to it the whole time. It's by Anne Patchett and thoroughly entertaining. It's basically about a woman who was married to a magician, but it was a platonic marriage because he's gay but she was hopelessly in love with him, so whaddya gonna do? And he dies on like page 1 and then all this stuff she never knew about him is suddenly revealed, even though she knew him for 20+ years and they were best friends.
I don't think I liked the end. But some of it was predictable and maybe it's just that I was pretty sure of what the last scene would look/feel like, and then when it was something else, I was disappointed. Just because it's not the denouement I'd have chosen, doesn't mean it's wrong. But still - my expectations prevent me from judging it on the merits.
Also it stopped just when it was turning a very interesting corner. And I'd have really really really liked for it to continue for another 50 pages or more, to explore that more. So I feel really gypped. I at least deserve an epilogue, here. Sheesh.
Anyway, it's a good read. Thumbs up, peoples.
(and PS: PALIN GOSSIP WARNING! So since we all bonded during Palinfest08, I whould share with you that my guess at the impetus behind the Sarah Palin resignation is that the 14-year-old is pregnant. Not sayin it's true, it's just what I've got my money on. Makes the most sense to me. And as an aside, I do think it's rather twisted, how everyone keeps talking about it like she couldn't possibly be quitting because she wants to protect her family - no no no, they blather, it's horribly misguided political calculations at the heart of it, or money, or some kind of crime cover-up. I think that's utter bullshit. That family's been through some serious shit, which she herself brought upon them and practically begged for the mud to keep on in her direction (she never sees that part of it, though, that she has ways to control and mitigate; she can only see herself as the victim, forever), and it's entirely possible that she just can't fucking take it anymore and the job isn't worth it, and fuck it - she's got a multi-million dollar book deal, so long suckers. I mean it's fun to hate her and all, but she is rather glaringly human - it's where all her weakness and psychosis comes from, after all - and people should just step the fuck back and think of it in a human context. Might not account for all of it, but I think it certainly accounts for quite a bit of it. Much like Britney Spears and Michael Jackson and Elvis and the like, I always end up with great pity for the freakshows. And way more pity for the poor children of the freakshows. Aaaaaaaaaaaand we're done here.)
My own wee SBDette is that I just finished reading The Magician's Assistant and I was glued to it the whole time. It's by Anne Patchett and thoroughly entertaining. It's basically about a woman who was married to a magician, but it was a platonic marriage because he's gay but she was hopelessly in love with him, so whaddya gonna do? And he dies on like page 1 and then all this stuff she never knew about him is suddenly revealed, even though she knew him for 20+ years and they were best friends.
I don't think I liked the end. But some of it was predictable and maybe it's just that I was pretty sure of what the last scene would look/feel like, and then when it was something else, I was disappointed. Just because it's not the denouement I'd have chosen, doesn't mean it's wrong. But still - my expectations prevent me from judging it on the merits.
Also it stopped just when it was turning a very interesting corner. And I'd have really really really liked for it to continue for another 50 pages or more, to explore that more. So I feel really gypped. I at least deserve an epilogue, here. Sheesh.
Anyway, it's a good read. Thumbs up, peoples.
(and PS: PALIN GOSSIP WARNING! So since we all bonded during Palinfest08, I whould share with you that my guess at the impetus behind the Sarah Palin resignation is that the 14-year-old is pregnant. Not sayin it's true, it's just what I've got my money on. Makes the most sense to me. And as an aside, I do think it's rather twisted, how everyone keeps talking about it like she couldn't possibly be quitting because she wants to protect her family - no no no, they blather, it's horribly misguided political calculations at the heart of it, or money, or some kind of crime cover-up. I think that's utter bullshit. That family's been through some serious shit, which she herself brought upon them and practically begged for the mud to keep on in her direction (she never sees that part of it, though, that she has ways to control and mitigate; she can only see herself as the victim, forever), and it's entirely possible that she just can't fucking take it anymore and the job isn't worth it, and fuck it - she's got a multi-million dollar book deal, so long suckers. I mean it's fun to hate her and all, but she is rather glaringly human - it's where all her weakness and psychosis comes from, after all - and people should just step the fuck back and think of it in a human context. Might not account for all of it, but I think it certainly accounts for quite a bit of it. Much like Britney Spears and Michael Jackson and Elvis and the like, I always end up with great pity for the freakshows. And way more pity for the poor children of the freakshows. Aaaaaaaaaaaand we're done here.)
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Well. My family makes me sad. It seems like none of us is so good at this family gig.
I picked my nephew up and spent the three long hours in traffic to get him and take him to see his cousins. Then I did it all again the next day, to take him home. As we approached the last toll, I thought to myself - why do I never even bother asking anymore, if his father will do one leg of the trip? I hate the driving, and always wish there was some way to get the kid home without having to get on the expressways in the end.
But I learned long ago - we learned, my other brother and I - not to bother. If it were up to his parents, this nephew would never see his cousins. And he loves to come visit so much, which is why I go through it, for him, even though I hate the driving. If his father agreed to drive him part of the way, it'd turn out to be a lie, or far later than the time agreed upon, or he'd grumble about it and turn nasty and make excuses and in the end and I'd wind up driving him anyway. Better to bypass all that and just take full responsibility for the boy for the whole duration. Better not to count on anyone else, if those anyone elses share my last name.
As I drove him up the driveway, dropping him home and wondering how a father can not feel like he should at least offer to give his son a ride for part of the way, the door opened. There was Bro1, who I so rarely see (though I see his children frequently) and I called to him, asking what I should get my niece, his daughter, for a high school grad present. Her party is in a couple of weeks. He shrugged and shouted back that cash would probably be best. He called - And she needs the money! She got accepted to Saint [Costly's Catholic College of Ridiculous Tuition]!
Such a huge proud grin on his face. Bursting with pride over his daughter being accepted into a private college.
That's when I realized that we all, every last one of us, my siblings and I - we suffer in an extreme way from massive self-delusions. His daughter is a C- student who was rejected by many other state schools and received acceptance from only the local community college and the private school that bent the rules because her mother went there. The idea that anyone could put enough money in a graduation card to cover even one class for one semester is so far past laughable that I could do nothing but nod and drive away as fast as I could, embarrassed for my brother's excitement. She can't go to that school. He doesn't have the money, at all, not a red cent of it. Even if she were willing to take out the loans, no bank lends that much out per semester. Especially not to a student with such a dismal GPA.
To me, that's a tragedy. The whole thing is a failing of so many things that never had to fail, but did. But to him, it's so thrilling, so terrific that he's pushing her to max out every available loan - but never considers putting himself in more debt. He's blind to reality and doubles down on this fantasy of My Daughter The Scholar.
Self-delusion and appalling selfishness. It's in our veins. From my mother, I suppose, but my father too. From what I know of him and what my brothers would possibly see too, if they'd think of him as a person instead of a figure in humorous anecdotes from our childhood. Parents - the non-stellar kind - should always die before their kids get good and grown up. If it'd been my mother who died young, we'd see her as our beloved sainted mother, and my father as the jerk. That's what I think, anyway.
So that 's Bro1 and Bro2 isn't much better, his children living in other people's houses and trailer parks and public housing, on food stamps and charity, while he quits one job after another after another, insisting that the company/boss/coworkers/industry has it in for him, he can find something better. For years. Over and over. And Bro3, leaving his family, his beautiful daughters, his great wife, because he just didn't want it anymore. He may be the best of them, to stop deluding himself, stop trying. But it doesn't make him any less appallinggly selfish and cruel in so many ways.
And Bro4, my favorite brother, married to the fabulous Italian, his two sweet sons with bright shining eyes. Him too - deluding himself, refusing to see his worst mistakes, selfish in the strictest sense of refusing to be generous (with his patience or kindness or emotions) to those he loves most. Things have come unglued there, in the one place I thought some corner of my family was airtight, safe. It hurts so much to see, to even think about, that I can't breathe.
This is the downside to being an aunt. It's so frustrationg, to know how limited I am in what I can do. I can't steer anyone's life, I can't make anyone's home life better. You love these kids like they're your own, because they are, a little bit. It's my family too, these children. But I'm not their parent and I get no say. I get invited to holidays and birthday parties and I babysit and entertain, and they fight over who gets to sit next to me, or ride in my car - like a pet of theirs, almost. I can be ignored in ways a parent can't be.
This mess, these messes that have been made among my siblings and the behaviors we all share - it's probably why I never seriously considered being a mom, though I love children. Because I know I'd fail like my brothers have, and I wouldn't see it, or I'd justify it, defend myself rigorously and insist I was a wonderful mother. Of course we all do our best. But when you have a natural tendency - or no, a learned one - to adjust the bar lower and lower, depending on your mood? Well.
I'm just rambling, because I spent a weekend with my family and it's made me feel helpless and sad, is all. It makes me want to put my cat in the car, burn down my apartment and everything in it, and drive for days, in any direction until I hit the ocean. Then stop, get out, and build myself a new life, with a new name. Be born on the spot. No history, no past, no nothing but some fading memories.
But then I've always wanted to do that, and it's never worked when I've tried.
I picked my nephew up and spent the three long hours in traffic to get him and take him to see his cousins. Then I did it all again the next day, to take him home. As we approached the last toll, I thought to myself - why do I never even bother asking anymore, if his father will do one leg of the trip? I hate the driving, and always wish there was some way to get the kid home without having to get on the expressways in the end.
But I learned long ago - we learned, my other brother and I - not to bother. If it were up to his parents, this nephew would never see his cousins. And he loves to come visit so much, which is why I go through it, for him, even though I hate the driving. If his father agreed to drive him part of the way, it'd turn out to be a lie, or far later than the time agreed upon, or he'd grumble about it and turn nasty and make excuses and in the end and I'd wind up driving him anyway. Better to bypass all that and just take full responsibility for the boy for the whole duration. Better not to count on anyone else, if those anyone elses share my last name.
As I drove him up the driveway, dropping him home and wondering how a father can not feel like he should at least offer to give his son a ride for part of the way, the door opened. There was Bro1, who I so rarely see (though I see his children frequently) and I called to him, asking what I should get my niece, his daughter, for a high school grad present. Her party is in a couple of weeks. He shrugged and shouted back that cash would probably be best. He called - And she needs the money! She got accepted to Saint [Costly's Catholic College of Ridiculous Tuition]!
Such a huge proud grin on his face. Bursting with pride over his daughter being accepted into a private college.
That's when I realized that we all, every last one of us, my siblings and I - we suffer in an extreme way from massive self-delusions. His daughter is a C- student who was rejected by many other state schools and received acceptance from only the local community college and the private school that bent the rules because her mother went there. The idea that anyone could put enough money in a graduation card to cover even one class for one semester is so far past laughable that I could do nothing but nod and drive away as fast as I could, embarrassed for my brother's excitement. She can't go to that school. He doesn't have the money, at all, not a red cent of it. Even if she were willing to take out the loans, no bank lends that much out per semester. Especially not to a student with such a dismal GPA.
To me, that's a tragedy. The whole thing is a failing of so many things that never had to fail, but did. But to him, it's so thrilling, so terrific that he's pushing her to max out every available loan - but never considers putting himself in more debt. He's blind to reality and doubles down on this fantasy of My Daughter The Scholar.
Self-delusion and appalling selfishness. It's in our veins. From my mother, I suppose, but my father too. From what I know of him and what my brothers would possibly see too, if they'd think of him as a person instead of a figure in humorous anecdotes from our childhood. Parents - the non-stellar kind - should always die before their kids get good and grown up. If it'd been my mother who died young, we'd see her as our beloved sainted mother, and my father as the jerk. That's what I think, anyway.
So that 's Bro1 and Bro2 isn't much better, his children living in other people's houses and trailer parks and public housing, on food stamps and charity, while he quits one job after another after another, insisting that the company/boss/coworkers/industry has it in for him, he can find something better. For years. Over and over. And Bro3, leaving his family, his beautiful daughters, his great wife, because he just didn't want it anymore. He may be the best of them, to stop deluding himself, stop trying. But it doesn't make him any less appallinggly selfish and cruel in so many ways.
And Bro4, my favorite brother, married to the fabulous Italian, his two sweet sons with bright shining eyes. Him too - deluding himself, refusing to see his worst mistakes, selfish in the strictest sense of refusing to be generous (with his patience or kindness or emotions) to those he loves most. Things have come unglued there, in the one place I thought some corner of my family was airtight, safe. It hurts so much to see, to even think about, that I can't breathe.
This is the downside to being an aunt. It's so frustrationg, to know how limited I am in what I can do. I can't steer anyone's life, I can't make anyone's home life better. You love these kids like they're your own, because they are, a little bit. It's my family too, these children. But I'm not their parent and I get no say. I get invited to holidays and birthday parties and I babysit and entertain, and they fight over who gets to sit next to me, or ride in my car - like a pet of theirs, almost. I can be ignored in ways a parent can't be.
This mess, these messes that have been made among my siblings and the behaviors we all share - it's probably why I never seriously considered being a mom, though I love children. Because I know I'd fail like my brothers have, and I wouldn't see it, or I'd justify it, defend myself rigorously and insist I was a wonderful mother. Of course we all do our best. But when you have a natural tendency - or no, a learned one - to adjust the bar lower and lower, depending on your mood? Well.
I'm just rambling, because I spent a weekend with my family and it's made me feel helpless and sad, is all. It makes me want to put my cat in the car, burn down my apartment and everything in it, and drive for days, in any direction until I hit the ocean. Then stop, get out, and build myself a new life, with a new name. Be born on the spot. No history, no past, no nothing but some fading memories.
But then I've always wanted to do that, and it's never worked when I've tried.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Ridiculously cute puppy outside tonight on my walk from the train. I stopped at the car to put on my new city sticker and a guy came along walking this adorable dog, four months old, fluffy kind of Rottweiler mix, big paws, lolling tongue, sniffing closer and closer to me. I put out my hand and he jumped back, and started doing that playful thing, the crouch and pounce, before he sauntered over and licked my hand, let me pet his holy-god-it's-so-soft fur.
Made me smile and feel all cheery and kid-like and fun, at this start of a 3-day weekend, cute playful pup. Then I realized that the owner, who was truly fucking hot in the yummiest of ways, was just obviously way too young for me - which made me feel old and sad again. Hmmm, but he was Asian, and you know how Asians have those ageless young faces. Which btw, how totally depressing to be a non-Asian married to an Asian, and you look 50 when you're 50, but they still look like a damn teenager. Annoying.
Man, and that makes me realize Dawn still looks exactly the same as she did in high school, and will continue looking like that for another decade or two, while I will continue to prematurely age. Fookin genetics. Fookin Asians.
I think I want noodles for dinner.
~end of totally random post~
Made me smile and feel all cheery and kid-like and fun, at this start of a 3-day weekend, cute playful pup. Then I realized that the owner, who was truly fucking hot in the yummiest of ways, was just obviously way too young for me - which made me feel old and sad again. Hmmm, but he was Asian, and you know how Asians have those ageless young faces. Which btw, how totally depressing to be a non-Asian married to an Asian, and you look 50 when you're 50, but they still look like a damn teenager. Annoying.
Man, and that makes me realize Dawn still looks exactly the same as she did in high school, and will continue looking like that for another decade or two, while I will continue to prematurely age. Fookin genetics. Fookin Asians.
I think I want noodles for dinner.
~end of totally random post~
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