This week my secret word of the week is going to be:
"exhilarated"
Hmm...Looks like there's gonna be stormy weather this week too. It was all overcast and my bones were sore yesterday. Meh. I'm watching it *not* be sunny outside right now, even thought it should be bright as all hell right now by this time. And I can see all the trees blowing, so I'm guessing if I were to actually pull up the blinds, there would be clouds out there too.
In other news, while Trinette was here yesterday, we all sucked, and forgot to turn in the application, so we *have* to remember to do that today before she rolls toward home. HAVE TO.
Watching the kids was a breeze though. All was fine.
I think Melissa's move went fine, I was in Bakersfield babysitting for her too, for most of last week while she packed like a fiend. It was nuts. And she moved yesterday. It sounded like it was insane. Many children and boxes and pets and basically it was crazy. She was unpacking with Lauren getting into cabinets not yet childproofed when last I heard from her. Sounded like Lauren was having a good time with it though.
OK. I'm going to go and...honestly I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Probably check laundry. Catch everybody later.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
complications
I think that might be it. I tend to complicate things. I don't necessarily mean to. I have to see things clearly. And so I complicate damned near everything. It's a talent of mine. I will look at something from every single angle, for however long it takes, until I can see completely clearly what's going on. I will dig through all the layers, unearth all the bullshit, until I know the truth of what's going on.
And that can be complicated. Because I flat out refuse to take the easy bullshit story that I've been fed, if I suspect it isn't true. I will search out the truth. All the truth. And that creates drama. Because I don't like being lied to, by anyone, about anything. And if I suspect I've been lied to, or deceived about something small, I'll go searching for the source of the lie, and that creates complications. Because nobody likes being caught in a lie. And most people hate being called on it even more.
Stewie and Kat and I were having this random conversation yesterday, about lying. And our theory was this. You don't do it. Not to your friends, not to people you're going to be coming into contact repeatedly, over and over again. You just don't. Because that shit is going to catch up to you, and bite you in the ass. Sure, tell the clerk at the grocery store that you're going to a bling bling party, and that you're the richest guy there (thanks Stewie). Who gives a shit? That clerk doesn't know you from Adam, and so if you're picking up enough alcohol to sink the Titanic, who cares, and who is going to remember anything tomorrow? But you don't drop those kinds of stories on people you know. Because you just don't tell stories to your friends. It's uncool.
And also because if you're telling various stories to people, eventually, those people are going to talk to each other, and all that shit is going to come together, and none of it's going to add up. Because there are people like me, who it drives absolutely bat-shit crazy to have things not add up correctly. And it really does drive me nuts to have things not add up. Even minor little details that don't fit into some story someone has told, they drive me absolutely crazy, and I will sit and ferret out the information until in some way, at some point, all the damned details correlate. Or I will go absolutely insane trying.
I may not always share what I've uncovered. But I will almost always make the details correlate.
Because I'm neurotic that way. Details are my life. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder FTW.
And that can be complicated. Because I flat out refuse to take the easy bullshit story that I've been fed, if I suspect it isn't true. I will search out the truth. All the truth. And that creates drama. Because I don't like being lied to, by anyone, about anything. And if I suspect I've been lied to, or deceived about something small, I'll go searching for the source of the lie, and that creates complications. Because nobody likes being caught in a lie. And most people hate being called on it even more.
Stewie and Kat and I were having this random conversation yesterday, about lying. And our theory was this. You don't do it. Not to your friends, not to people you're going to be coming into contact repeatedly, over and over again. You just don't. Because that shit is going to catch up to you, and bite you in the ass. Sure, tell the clerk at the grocery store that you're going to a bling bling party, and that you're the richest guy there (thanks Stewie). Who gives a shit? That clerk doesn't know you from Adam, and so if you're picking up enough alcohol to sink the Titanic, who cares, and who is going to remember anything tomorrow? But you don't drop those kinds of stories on people you know. Because you just don't tell stories to your friends. It's uncool.
And also because if you're telling various stories to people, eventually, those people are going to talk to each other, and all that shit is going to come together, and none of it's going to add up. Because there are people like me, who it drives absolutely bat-shit crazy to have things not add up correctly. And it really does drive me nuts to have things not add up. Even minor little details that don't fit into some story someone has told, they drive me absolutely crazy, and I will sit and ferret out the information until in some way, at some point, all the damned details correlate. Or I will go absolutely insane trying.
I may not always share what I've uncovered. But I will almost always make the details correlate.
Because I'm neurotic that way. Details are my life. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder FTW.
cats and other random things
Ezzie's being a pain in the butt. Which, as it turns out, was my own fault. He was out of food. But I had a massive migraine, and so I didn't think to go check his food bowl, I just kept booting him off the bed, and growling back at him while he whined at me. I felt fairly dumb when I found the cause of his whining.
I also did an overhaul on the leftovers situation. Cleaned out the fridge, so at least I don't have to keep looking at the overload of food. For the next couple of weeks, I think I'll just stick to soup and sandwiches, so as to keep the food situation under control, and once Trinette gets here, I guess she and I will figure out a way to keep things under control. We're cool like that. Yay for us.
I went out with Stewie yesterday, to Kat's, for Chocolate Bunny snarfing day. Had a good time. I don't know why I never remember what a good time I have with him. And Kat (Hi Kat!!!!), made absolutely awesome homemade pizzas from scratch. And there was much joy and munching. Many full tummies were had by all. And girl scout cookies were consumed. And there was happiness. And then, unfortunately, my head exploded and I had to call it a night, or I'd've stayed out later.
The decision was made to go out with Stewie again on a different night, so that's what I've decided to do. I'm trying to decide what to wear. Ye gods, I might actually wear girl clothes. Stew can actually do the whole dressed to the nines thing when it suits him, so maybe I *will* wear girl clothes, and we'll go be real people and act like adults. Or maybe not. We tend to have more fun at casual venues, so I dunno. Either way, he's a blast, and I'm tired of sulking. Screw it, there's no point in the sitting at home doing the martyr routine, and my friends have rallied 'round to keep me from being depressed, the least I can do it cooperate with them.
Now if I could just figure out how to a: get the other audio tier from Mona's storage unit to the apartment. b: get the other entertainment center from Danny's parents to the apartment. c: assemble the other entertainment center. d: take apart the audio tiers and get the brackets and mount what I want to the walls I want it on so I have floating bookshelves, so I can start arranging stuff for Trinette's impending arrival.
It's more or less coming down to moving furniture and figuring out how to do things at this point, and I *should* be making lists and moving things around, but I'm not quite sure where to start, and I'm feeling kind of confused on where to begin. I normally have a 1,2,3 process, but I've been so scattered for the last couple of weeks that I'm just sort of out of it. I suppose I should start by having Danny help me find the red binders and getting those boxes out of here to FedEx so it's a beginning of clearing at least a couple things from the front room.
{tears out hair}
I also did an overhaul on the leftovers situation. Cleaned out the fridge, so at least I don't have to keep looking at the overload of food. For the next couple of weeks, I think I'll just stick to soup and sandwiches, so as to keep the food situation under control, and once Trinette gets here, I guess she and I will figure out a way to keep things under control. We're cool like that. Yay for us.
I went out with Stewie yesterday, to Kat's, for Chocolate Bunny snarfing day. Had a good time. I don't know why I never remember what a good time I have with him. And Kat (Hi Kat!!!!), made absolutely awesome homemade pizzas from scratch. And there was much joy and munching. Many full tummies were had by all. And girl scout cookies were consumed. And there was happiness. And then, unfortunately, my head exploded and I had to call it a night, or I'd've stayed out later.
The decision was made to go out with Stewie again on a different night, so that's what I've decided to do. I'm trying to decide what to wear. Ye gods, I might actually wear girl clothes. Stew can actually do the whole dressed to the nines thing when it suits him, so maybe I *will* wear girl clothes, and we'll go be real people and act like adults. Or maybe not. We tend to have more fun at casual venues, so I dunno. Either way, he's a blast, and I'm tired of sulking. Screw it, there's no point in the sitting at home doing the martyr routine, and my friends have rallied 'round to keep me from being depressed, the least I can do it cooperate with them.
Now if I could just figure out how to a: get the other audio tier from Mona's storage unit to the apartment. b: get the other entertainment center from Danny's parents to the apartment. c: assemble the other entertainment center. d: take apart the audio tiers and get the brackets and mount what I want to the walls I want it on so I have floating bookshelves, so I can start arranging stuff for Trinette's impending arrival.
It's more or less coming down to moving furniture and figuring out how to do things at this point, and I *should* be making lists and moving things around, but I'm not quite sure where to start, and I'm feeling kind of confused on where to begin. I normally have a 1,2,3 process, but I've been so scattered for the last couple of weeks that I'm just sort of out of it. I suppose I should start by having Danny help me find the red binders and getting those boxes out of here to FedEx so it's a beginning of clearing at least a couple things from the front room.
{tears out hair}
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Secret word of the week/Nightmares
The secret word of the week this week is:
"impatient"
which I may or may not actually write about later.
But for right now, I'm still reeling from last night/this morning's series of craptastic nightmares. And honestly, I might have brought them on myself a bit, as I was kind of mulling some stuff over as I went to bed.
I was thinking about it last night. I had these lyrics in my head "Everywhere I look, you're all I see, just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be". And it's true, in a way. For a lot of people and things. Danny and Phillip, of course. But more than that. Just about everywhere I go or look in Fresno, there are reminders of who and what I used to be. And the downside to that is that I can't remember at all, or it's a faded reminder at best, of who I was.
I think part of the appeal of my running away to Bakersfield, part of what made looking around in Bakersfield good for me, was that no matter where I went there, nothing I saw reminded me of my life.
And I was pondering all of that, when I went to bed. My faded memories. Never a good thing to do in the first place. Queue the nightmares. I woke up thrashing about, nightmares about Monkey and Charlie, and having lost her. I was telling somebody that it didn't matter, she was still *my* daughter, and that Todd should shut up and butt out, that he had no business being involved in anything in the first place. It was lousy. And for whatever reason, all of it was taking place in Georgia, at the house that I'd only seen when I was out there for the court thing, when Mom drove past it before we flew back home. It was crazy.
I *feel* crazy, right now. I'll be glad when I finally head over to Kat's today. I'm here alone all day until I head out to go there. I'll probably be neurotically cleaning things until then, because I'm so thoroughly agitated. And, unfortunately, I'll be stuck here alone tonight, too, because Mona and Danny are out of town for Easter until tomorrow, and there isn't anyone else to come keep me company.
I hate feeling this weirded out from nightmares. I hate that I feel this unstable in general.
Happy Easter, right?
"impatient"
which I may or may not actually write about later.
But for right now, I'm still reeling from last night/this morning's series of craptastic nightmares. And honestly, I might have brought them on myself a bit, as I was kind of mulling some stuff over as I went to bed.
I was thinking about it last night. I had these lyrics in my head "Everywhere I look, you're all I see, just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be". And it's true, in a way. For a lot of people and things. Danny and Phillip, of course. But more than that. Just about everywhere I go or look in Fresno, there are reminders of who and what I used to be. And the downside to that is that I can't remember at all, or it's a faded reminder at best, of who I was.
I think part of the appeal of my running away to Bakersfield, part of what made looking around in Bakersfield good for me, was that no matter where I went there, nothing I saw reminded me of my life.
And I was pondering all of that, when I went to bed. My faded memories. Never a good thing to do in the first place. Queue the nightmares. I woke up thrashing about, nightmares about Monkey and Charlie, and having lost her. I was telling somebody that it didn't matter, she was still *my* daughter, and that Todd should shut up and butt out, that he had no business being involved in anything in the first place. It was lousy. And for whatever reason, all of it was taking place in Georgia, at the house that I'd only seen when I was out there for the court thing, when Mom drove past it before we flew back home. It was crazy.
I *feel* crazy, right now. I'll be glad when I finally head over to Kat's today. I'm here alone all day until I head out to go there. I'll probably be neurotically cleaning things until then, because I'm so thoroughly agitated. And, unfortunately, I'll be stuck here alone tonight, too, because Mona and Danny are out of town for Easter until tomorrow, and there isn't anyone else to come keep me company.
I hate feeling this weirded out from nightmares. I hate that I feel this unstable in general.
Happy Easter, right?
Friday, March 21, 2008
leftovers
Funny how things work. I like to cook. Not so much with the eating though. I mean, sure, I eat. The problem is that I don't eat nearly enough to warrant the amount of food that I cook. And I enjoy cooking. Which creates leftovers. Which actually has been working out fine for the last several months, since I had Phil around, because he can eat. He eats quite a bit. As he puts it, "I like food." And he does. So it worked out pretty well for both of us.
I opened my refrigerator today, and just sighed. It's almost completely full. Not because I don't eat leftovers. I actually do eat them. I have no problems at all reheating things. It's just that I don't eat large enough quantities, or fast enough, to use up the amounts that are in there. I have enough food in there to feed three or four people for the next two weeks...or to feed Phil for the next three or four days, if he's working. And it depressed me.
I'm just bummed out. I don't quite know how to cope. I was used to having him around, and it feels weird, not talking to him before I go to sleep. Everything about, well, everything suddenly feels strange for me. The food everywhere that I know will probably not get eaten. The phone that I know won't ring and be him. No silly TV shows to sit and laugh about.
I have to figure out a way to get the rest of his medications to him, because I forgot to put them with his stuff, and I'm not looking forward to that. In general, it just feels like there's a piece of something missing. During the rare moments that my mind has blanked out and I've drifted from what's missing, I tune out, and wonder why I feel so out of sorts, and then it dawns on me what's missing. Phil's missing. That's what's wrong. And I can't quite block the feeling of loss.
I've been asleep a lot for the last few days. A combination of depression, general malaise, and a massive allergy attack that's knocked me down pretty hard. I haven't completely lost it. I've gone to the park with Danny and Cora. Dragged my ass out of bed, gotten dressed, made myself function like a real live person, because I know better than to just let myself hide away from the world. I can't afford to drift into a depression so deep that I can't function at all.
Things are moving forward, in spite of everything that has me so unhappy. The move, both Mona and Danny moving out, and Trinette moving in, is commencing. Probably in the next couple of weeks. Trinette turned her notice in yesterday where she is, and Mona is turning hers in, I think tomorrow morning here.
I've found a job, and I'll be working shortly. Once Trinette has moved in here, I'll be both watching her little girl after school until she gets home from work, and then I'll be working myself part-time. Things are stabilizing, in spite of myself. It'll take some adjusting, on everyone's part, but it's probably the best thing I could have done for myself.
So while looking around me, right now, I feel like something is missing, and it is, and I'm sad, I know that I can't stay this sad forever. Something will give, one way or another soon enough. I can't just walk in the same place, treading the same path, indefinitely. That isn't healthy for me. I either need to move forward, or take a few steps back. I chose to push forward.
Maybe Phil will come back eventually, and maybe he won't. Maybe I'll fall flat on my face working, though somehow I doubt it. The job itself is ideally suited to me, and I should do just fine. I'm sort of afraid of how things will work out toward the end of the year, when it's time for Trinette to move on, and move away, leaving me living on my own, but even that will probably work out just fine. It's more of a fear thing because I haven't actually lived completely on my own since I was eighteen, before I had my daughter.
Wow. All that because there were leftovers in the fridge.
I opened my refrigerator today, and just sighed. It's almost completely full. Not because I don't eat leftovers. I actually do eat them. I have no problems at all reheating things. It's just that I don't eat large enough quantities, or fast enough, to use up the amounts that are in there. I have enough food in there to feed three or four people for the next two weeks...or to feed Phil for the next three or four days, if he's working. And it depressed me.
I'm just bummed out. I don't quite know how to cope. I was used to having him around, and it feels weird, not talking to him before I go to sleep. Everything about, well, everything suddenly feels strange for me. The food everywhere that I know will probably not get eaten. The phone that I know won't ring and be him. No silly TV shows to sit and laugh about.
I have to figure out a way to get the rest of his medications to him, because I forgot to put them with his stuff, and I'm not looking forward to that. In general, it just feels like there's a piece of something missing. During the rare moments that my mind has blanked out and I've drifted from what's missing, I tune out, and wonder why I feel so out of sorts, and then it dawns on me what's missing. Phil's missing. That's what's wrong. And I can't quite block the feeling of loss.
I've been asleep a lot for the last few days. A combination of depression, general malaise, and a massive allergy attack that's knocked me down pretty hard. I haven't completely lost it. I've gone to the park with Danny and Cora. Dragged my ass out of bed, gotten dressed, made myself function like a real live person, because I know better than to just let myself hide away from the world. I can't afford to drift into a depression so deep that I can't function at all.
Things are moving forward, in spite of everything that has me so unhappy. The move, both Mona and Danny moving out, and Trinette moving in, is commencing. Probably in the next couple of weeks. Trinette turned her notice in yesterday where she is, and Mona is turning hers in, I think tomorrow morning here.
I've found a job, and I'll be working shortly. Once Trinette has moved in here, I'll be both watching her little girl after school until she gets home from work, and then I'll be working myself part-time. Things are stabilizing, in spite of myself. It'll take some adjusting, on everyone's part, but it's probably the best thing I could have done for myself.
So while looking around me, right now, I feel like something is missing, and it is, and I'm sad, I know that I can't stay this sad forever. Something will give, one way or another soon enough. I can't just walk in the same place, treading the same path, indefinitely. That isn't healthy for me. I either need to move forward, or take a few steps back. I chose to push forward.
Maybe Phil will come back eventually, and maybe he won't. Maybe I'll fall flat on my face working, though somehow I doubt it. The job itself is ideally suited to me, and I should do just fine. I'm sort of afraid of how things will work out toward the end of the year, when it's time for Trinette to move on, and move away, leaving me living on my own, but even that will probably work out just fine. It's more of a fear thing because I haven't actually lived completely on my own since I was eighteen, before I had my daughter.
Wow. All that because there were leftovers in the fridge.
stupid things
I changed around things on my idiot MySpace account, because, well, honestly, looking at it was making me depressed. I took down all the photos, and I took him off my top 8. I didn't figure that logging in and seeing his face was going to be helping me any, since I'd just sent him away. Yes, I know, I get it. *I* sent him away. My choice, my decision. I can hear the voice in my head saying I didn't need to do that, and he had no intention of giving me up, etc, ad infinitum.
But as I know very well, it would have come down to that at the end of the day, and I'm so damned tired of being left behind and being abandoned, when someone ends up not keeping a promise to me. And, unfortunately, he has already proven to me that he won't keep a promise to me, if it means he can have her. It just wasn't worth the fighting, and the pain, and the anguish that came along with keeping him for a few extra weeks. And so I sent him away.
I have a song playing over and over in my head, some cheesy Keith Urban song, I think it's called "Think of Me".
And it hurts. I'm walking around like a zombie part of the time. Don't get me wrong, I'm putting on an excellent show. About 95% of the time, you can't even tell there's anything out of the ordinary going on. The other 5% I spent holed up in my room, because I have no desire to be seen.
But I took him off the top spot on my idiot MySpace page, because it hurt to see him there. Evidently, that offended in some way, as it took him no time at all to return that favor in kind. I've been booted off his as well. And that, I suppose, is no less than I deserve, as we're no longer...friends? We're nothing now, I guess. I'm surprised he didn't simply erase me entirely. He'd always maintained he didn't particularly care who was in the top 8 on his page, so I guess I was surprised at the speed with which I'd been removed.
And it's stupid. It was always stupid. And I am so tired and annoyed with myself for even thinking about it. Because it shouldn't make a difference. I shouldn't care. I wish I could forget, but I can't. And I doubt that it will disappear as fast as I had hoped. And while everyone I know tells me that, yay, I've done the right thing, and I'm strong and it will get easier, yahoo. This sucks.
Yes, I'm strong enough to have made a decision and stick with it. Yes, this is the right thing to do, and I did it. No, I don't want to just sit and keep getting hurt repeatedly by someone who only wants me as a convenience. Yes, I know all of the reasons and I am still standing, albeit very sadly. But that doesn't take the pain away. It doesn't make it any less hard to sit, and stare blindly at the wall, while everything inside of me crumbles because I miss him, and things hurt. Listening to the doors slam, because he was angry, and knowing that all I had to do was say "stay", it sucks.
And seeing that he could so easily drop me out of his life too, that hurt as well...
But as I know very well, it would have come down to that at the end of the day, and I'm so damned tired of being left behind and being abandoned, when someone ends up not keeping a promise to me. And, unfortunately, he has already proven to me that he won't keep a promise to me, if it means he can have her. It just wasn't worth the fighting, and the pain, and the anguish that came along with keeping him for a few extra weeks. And so I sent him away.
I have a song playing over and over in my head, some cheesy Keith Urban song, I think it's called "Think of Me".
And it hurts. I'm walking around like a zombie part of the time. Don't get me wrong, I'm putting on an excellent show. About 95% of the time, you can't even tell there's anything out of the ordinary going on. The other 5% I spent holed up in my room, because I have no desire to be seen.
But I took him off the top spot on my idiot MySpace page, because it hurt to see him there. Evidently, that offended in some way, as it took him no time at all to return that favor in kind. I've been booted off his as well. And that, I suppose, is no less than I deserve, as we're no longer...friends? We're nothing now, I guess. I'm surprised he didn't simply erase me entirely. He'd always maintained he didn't particularly care who was in the top 8 on his page, so I guess I was surprised at the speed with which I'd been removed.
And it's stupid. It was always stupid. And I am so tired and annoyed with myself for even thinking about it. Because it shouldn't make a difference. I shouldn't care. I wish I could forget, but I can't. And I doubt that it will disappear as fast as I had hoped. And while everyone I know tells me that, yay, I've done the right thing, and I'm strong and it will get easier, yahoo. This sucks.
Yes, I'm strong enough to have made a decision and stick with it. Yes, this is the right thing to do, and I did it. No, I don't want to just sit and keep getting hurt repeatedly by someone who only wants me as a convenience. Yes, I know all of the reasons and I am still standing, albeit very sadly. But that doesn't take the pain away. It doesn't make it any less hard to sit, and stare blindly at the wall, while everything inside of me crumbles because I miss him, and things hurt. Listening to the doors slam, because he was angry, and knowing that all I had to do was say "stay", it sucks.
And seeing that he could so easily drop me out of his life too, that hurt as well...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
