Well, here I am. People who know me love me whether they like it or not. It's a burden since I dislike most people. You can find My actual Life HERE. I have many fandoms, and many likes but I have yet to find passion in a pasttime. You are welcome as long as you behave.
I figure as long as STAN can live here, I can too. Here's round two.
Sooooooo, my last post was all whiny. My dr increased my dosage on my meds. I think it's better... I think. In the doldrums of my whininess, I told my parents that if it weren't for my dogs, I would ask if I could quit my horrible job and move back into their house. It was strictly in passing and out of pure frustration. I never considered it a realistic possibility, but my parents have put a lot of thought into it over the last week. Yesterday my parents said that if I really wanted or needed to, I could do just that. The conditions being I go back to school and my dogs stay outside if no one is home. These are easy and totally reasonable conditions that I would have problem adhering to.
Why am I hesitant? It feels like I would be taking a big step back in my life. I moved out at 17 and have never had to move back in. I would be moving to a town I've never lived in and do not know anyone that is an hour away from my current city and my estranged spouse with whom I am more than willing to work things out with, if he were able to grow the fuck up.
For some reason, it is just frightening to me, and I don't know why. It's the ideal I wanted, but faced with the reality of an ideal, it's petrifying. give up and start over? Muddle through this until something gets better... IF something gets better?
Gawd, I'm whining again!! my life isn't so terrible! I am not abused or starving. I just have a loathsome job and a stupid husband who can't recognise things right in front of him. there are so many other things that could be so much worse, not that I want that, I'm just saying!
I am feeling the need to word vomit. I have been thinking this through for about an hour and a half; what I want to bitch about, whether I should even write it, if I should let it be published to where anyone, everyone or no one can see it. At the point that I am typing this, I still haven't decided who may or may not get to read these ramblings.
I am a self-reliant person, and my shit is none of your business. I waffle back and forth between spilling my guts to anyone and holding everything in. I'm so angry, all the time, and I will soon be 30 and I feel like a horribly underwhelming waste of potential and air. I dropped out of college because I was aimlessly wasting money towards no particular goal. I have literally put on 100 pounds since high school graduation and I HATE my job. I am also starting to dislike the company I work for. For my entire tenure at my job, I at least respected the company. Holy Shit, it seems like over the last year, people sitting in offices in fucking Oregon have been putting a lot of effort into making me and hundreds of other people miserable for 40 hours a week, at least. Not to mention the fucking customers who tell me everyday that I'm stupid, I'm a bitch, I'm being unfair, they hope I die or, my personal favorite, Jesus hates me. Fuck those bitches.
My weight gain has mostly been recent. I weigh more now than I did when the week I had a baby. I had a baby that many people may or may not know about. We had a beautiful baby that we gave up to a wonderful, loving couple. It's a decision that I have never regretted, but I am curious how things would be if he were here. His life is much better than any life I could have helped provide for him. But back to the weight gain, I watched the suicide weight come and go. As the emo teen I was, I always said that if I reached a certain point, I just die. Well, I'm sure my parents are glad to know that I'm too chicken shit to ACTUALLY off myself. But at the weight of 265 pounds, find solace in the fact that it would be hard to hoist myself off the ground and hanging ropes would probably snap. Yes, I'm guilty of self-depreciating "humor." I'm fat because I drink too much soda and I am chained to a fucking desk everyday with my goddamn headset. Then, once I'm not at work, I'm too lazy or I feel too much like shit to do anything about being fat.
My best friend asked if I was coming to my reunion this weekend. There's no way in hell. Why? I'm too goddamned ashamed of myself. I work in a menial service job. I dropped out of college. I'm fat. I married the man of my dreams, who decided that he loves me, but he can't be with me and moved out. Not to mention, the current center of my universe is a job that I would rather wake up and be scourged instead of go to on a daily basis. But hey, getting fat got me nice boobs. There is an upside to all this! What was I thinking?
I have no self esteem, and I can barely force myself to be seen in public. I am too busy hating things to be able to fix anything. I'm not writing for responses, I'm not writing for pity. I have no idea who will or will not read this, nor do I care. If your name was included in those who can see this, it's because at some point, you made me feel cared about, and I care enough to let you see my dirty laundry.
Do you ever just get a random phrase just stuck in your head and it won't go away until you do something with it? I do, but I cannot fit anything around it, and when I do, it make me sound much more whiney and/or emo than I am comfortable with.
Sweet Vermillion...
What the hell do you do with sweet vermillion? I get visuals of blood and romanticised masochism. Soomething I'm acquainted and comfortable with. I guess it's better to write about than do, but really.... I am not that emo!!! Maybe I am and just in denial.
(2 hours later)
So, I tried to write a poem and I got 2 verses in and put the brakes on. It was bad and whiny. I'm hungry and kind of hating life and the world at this very second.
I've been neglectful of stuff here. I've been fairly boring lately. My allergies are going crazy.
My payroll screwed up, and I only got a quarter of my deserved paycheck. That was last friday and I still don't have my money. Just as well, since I seem to have lost my debit card at some point in the last 2 days. grrrrr
Seamus is not calming down at all. I'm becoming tired of his puppyishness. He is still very sweet, I just want him to chill out a bit, and leave Demian alone. He antagonizes Demian to no end, and Demian is still all sulky about the new addition.
Jordan hasn't decided what he's doing at the end of his lease. I'm somewhat frightened that he may go to New York. A strange part of me wants him to go and for things to work out. The last thing I want in the world is that he would be miserable. I would love to be what makes him not miserable, but the thought that he could be happy there is both a hope and a fear for each of us.
I NEED SOME MONEY!
So, really, what the fuck am I doing with my life?
Alright, now that EMO is out of the way, I'm doing alright, actually. Seamus is settling in well, and I'm getting back into the swing at work. As a matter of fact, I am not hating my job lately and that is almost on the awesome sde.
There was a baby giraffe born at the zoo today. Is there a special name for a baby giraffe? I need to find that out. Not for any reason in particular, I just sudden feel the urge to know.
I'm hungry, but I never know what I want to eat. I've been eating a lot of pop tarts lately. Food of the Gods, that one is.
I hung out with my buddy, Jeannie today. It was awesome cause I haven't seen her in a long time. I miss being friends with people.
My laptop is not charging, but I'm too impatient to wait on the line for Dell. Stupid things that fuck up!
