"What happened to getting some loyalty?" "What happened to family?" "Why doesn't anyone ever help me?" "What did I do to deserve the way people treat me?"
You'll have to excuse me for a bit, while I throw things, or possibly punch a few things, or maybe even bitch-slap a couple of people. The aforementioned statements are all things I've seen up as various status messages over the last few weeks. And as the days slowly plod by into weeks, and I get more and more irritated, watching, my bullshit tolerance keeps getting lower and lower. And to be perfectly frank, it wasn't very high to begin with.
Gods above, I am sick to death of people. Of walking around with my cheery fucking disposition, propping up other people and trying to make *them* feel better about their so-called difficulties. I can think of a grand total of two people who well and truly deserve sympathy and respect for the troubles they've been through recently, and who I have no bitterness for the words that I expressed, because they didn't do a damned thing at all to either cause or compound their own damned problems. It's delightful, and depressing, simultaneously. And it makes me *want* to help, even though I can't.
And it's funny, because right now? By the first of August, the odds are pretty damned high that my world is going to collapse around my ears, and there's not a whole lot I can do to stop it. And I'm scrambling in spite of it, to try and save myself, simply because that's what I do. Because I don't expect that some mysterious solution is going to fucking appear in front of me, and save me at the last minute, and it will work out for another little while. Because *my* life never seems to work like that. I don't have family members who conveniently have a thousand dollars laying around who can help me fix my car. They don't have money to give me to pay my rent because I was an idiot who loaned out funds to someone who couldn't be bothered to pay it back, and went on vacation instead. Yes, that's right. *I* was a moron, and I got screwed. My mistake, and I'm paying the price, in spades. I wasn't expecting to need to get the car worked on. I wasn't expecting to have a few other things go wrong, that cost more money than I was expecting to have to pay out, and as a result, I'm probably going to have trouble making the rent, in August. So now I'm scrambling. And I'm not entirely sure what I'll do. It'll end up being either the rent, or the car, because the car's not going to hold out for much longer, and I know it.
And yes, there are solutions, and yes, I will most likely find them. And I'm frustrated, and I'm angry, at myself, not at everybody else under the Moon, because it was my own stupidity that got me into this fix, and I know it. That doesn't make me less angry, it simply makes it what it is.
But what's making me disgusted most at the entire world these days, is listening, day in and day out, to everyone else making excuses, for everything and everybody, except themselves. If *I* can face up to the fact that I landed myself into a mess, and have to pull myself out of it, because money doesn't grow on trees, and on gods damned butterfly wings, and it doesn't fall from the sky, and jobs don't just sprout up conveniently and they aren't tailor-made just because you want them or need them to be, I want to know why it is, that other people can't do the same thing?
I spent the last 24 hours job-hunting. And while I have skills, actual decent skills at that, but am somewhat screwed out of most of my regular skills being off-set by the fact that answering the phone is questionable since my speech can give out at any time, and that's a serious impediment to any receptionist/clerical job on the planet, and I can't take a standard fast-food style job due to the whole 'standing' bit, that rules out a *lot* of jobs. And yet? I managed to find a half-dozen things that I can submit resumes *in my field*, once I work over a resume. They're not as high-paying as I might like. They're not fabulous. They're not the hours I would like. But they're jobs, they're available, they're hiring, and they'd provide a paycheck. And it'd get my foot in a door I might not otherwise manage. And it'd be *right now* if I could manage it, not in a few months, which is what I've got lined up right now, and isn't soon enough.
And yes, it'll screw me down the line, for the job I've got lined up. It'll screw up my school, among other things. But unless someone is going to miraculously drop money from the sky between now and August to bail me out, which I somehow doubt, I'll do what I have to do, because that's how real life works. At least, it is in my world.
It's not always sunshine and roses and poetry. Sometimes it's dirty, and it's miserable, and it's ugly. Because that's how it goes. It's doing what has to be done, to keep existing, until you can actually start living again.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The memory of the Titanic
Today, the last of the survivors of the ship Titanic has passed on. She was 97. Born Elizabeth Gladys Dean, she was barely 2 months old when she traveled with her parents on the maiden voyage of the great doomed ship. Her death comes on the 98th anniversary of the launching of the Titanic, May 31, 1911.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Handy tips on how to get the job done.
Here's a neat list of ideas for getting things done:
1. Turn off the computers. ALL OF THEM
2. Turn off the television.
3. Turn off the phone. This includes your cell phones.
4. Make a list of what needs to be done.
5. If it needs to be done, *do not assume someone else should have to do it*
6. Follow the list.
7. Do it until it's finished, not until you're bored or distracted.
See, here's the trouble with getting things done, and excuses. There is always going to be things that have to be done. And unless you live alone, the way I do, there will *always* be somebody else you can shift the blame to for why it didn't get cleaned up, put away, moved where you wanted it, etc. But the truth is, that the only thing you can control, is yourself. And if you want something done, if you *really* want something done? You have to do it yourself. You can't always be pointing a finger and saying that it should have been someone else's responsibility. If you see that it needed to be done, and no one else did, then ultimately, the person who was responsible for the mess, was you. Bottom line.
And constantly claiming that there's not enough time in the day to get everything done is a cop-out as well. The trouble is that most people won't turn off the electronics, and won't actually go and *do* the cleaning necessary to maintain things the way they want. Everybody wants a housekeeper, and no one wants to *be* the housekeeper.
Such is life.
1. Turn off the computers. ALL OF THEM
2. Turn off the television.
3. Turn off the phone. This includes your cell phones.
4. Make a list of what needs to be done.
5. If it needs to be done, *do not assume someone else should have to do it*
6. Follow the list.
7. Do it until it's finished, not until you're bored or distracted.
See, here's the trouble with getting things done, and excuses. There is always going to be things that have to be done. And unless you live alone, the way I do, there will *always* be somebody else you can shift the blame to for why it didn't get cleaned up, put away, moved where you wanted it, etc. But the truth is, that the only thing you can control, is yourself. And if you want something done, if you *really* want something done? You have to do it yourself. You can't always be pointing a finger and saying that it should have been someone else's responsibility. If you see that it needed to be done, and no one else did, then ultimately, the person who was responsible for the mess, was you. Bottom line.
And constantly claiming that there's not enough time in the day to get everything done is a cop-out as well. The trouble is that most people won't turn off the electronics, and won't actually go and *do* the cleaning necessary to maintain things the way they want. Everybody wants a housekeeper, and no one wants to *be* the housekeeper.
Such is life.
Pity party ahead, skip it if you're so inclined
Sometimes, just sometimes, it doesn't seem to matter what you do or don't do with your life. Whether you follow all of the rules that are laid out before you. It never seems to matter if you are adhering to the plan that you were told you needed to live by, to make things go in the way you're expecting them to.
I'm not feeling very 'Zen' right now. I kind of want to know why it is that I just can't quite get a break, not with my life, not with my body, not with anything or so it feels. And yet...some truly horrible people get to keep getting what they want, over and over and over again. And it's petty, and it's mean, and I realize all of this, but just now, I'm not really feeling anything else but petty and mean.
Why can I not get a six month stretch of health, even *basic* fucking health, without something going wrong that lands me back in front of some kind of specialist, where others who can eat and fuck anything and anyone that they want, with no repercussions? Never pick up an STD, never gain a pound, get themselves knocked up or not, as suits their whims.
But not me. No, I get to spend minimum, once a month, getting enough blood pulled out of me to end up nearly passing out, so they can make sure I don't die, and even then, the odds aren't too great on the not-dying aspect. I look at a pop-tart, and gain five pounds. When I get pregnant, I tend to miscarry in grand fashion, because there's damage to my system from a missing ovary, and damage to my uterus. Fucking yay.
And so yes, I'm not feeling particularly upbeat and optimistic right now. I'm *tired* of cheering for everybody else, and listening to people's laments about their lives. Truth be told, my life is somewhat bouncing back on the one-to-ten scale of suck right now, on being about a two. It's almost laughable, that so many of you don't seem to realize just how bad it truly is for me. And no, I'm not going to post a nice, neat little list for you.
The glass half full, and glass half empty situation? The vast majority of people I know look at their lives as glass half empty, and I struggle, damn near daily, to look at mine as half full. Because I absolutely detest the idea of depression. And I do a really good job of it, at holding it all together, and pushing forward. But the constant placing of blame, on everybody else under the sun, besides yourselves? My *gods* people. REALLY?!
I'm not feeling very 'Zen' right now. I kind of want to know why it is that I just can't quite get a break, not with my life, not with my body, not with anything or so it feels. And yet...some truly horrible people get to keep getting what they want, over and over and over again. And it's petty, and it's mean, and I realize all of this, but just now, I'm not really feeling anything else but petty and mean.
Why can I not get a six month stretch of health, even *basic* fucking health, without something going wrong that lands me back in front of some kind of specialist, where others who can eat and fuck anything and anyone that they want, with no repercussions? Never pick up an STD, never gain a pound, get themselves knocked up or not, as suits their whims.
But not me. No, I get to spend minimum, once a month, getting enough blood pulled out of me to end up nearly passing out, so they can make sure I don't die, and even then, the odds aren't too great on the not-dying aspect. I look at a pop-tart, and gain five pounds. When I get pregnant, I tend to miscarry in grand fashion, because there's damage to my system from a missing ovary, and damage to my uterus. Fucking yay.
And so yes, I'm not feeling particularly upbeat and optimistic right now. I'm *tired* of cheering for everybody else, and listening to people's laments about their lives. Truth be told, my life is somewhat bouncing back on the one-to-ten scale of suck right now, on being about a two. It's almost laughable, that so many of you don't seem to realize just how bad it truly is for me. And no, I'm not going to post a nice, neat little list for you.
The glass half full, and glass half empty situation? The vast majority of people I know look at their lives as glass half empty, and I struggle, damn near daily, to look at mine as half full. Because I absolutely detest the idea of depression. And I do a really good job of it, at holding it all together, and pushing forward. But the constant placing of blame, on everybody else under the sun, besides yourselves? My *gods* people. REALLY?!
Sunday, May 24, 2009
shepherds of the broken - keeper of the secrets
I keep hearing this phrase inside of my head, sometimes even while I'm asleep "shepherd of the broken". And I know what it means, at least what it means to me. It more disturbs me that I'm hearing it even while I'm unconscious than anything else.
The shepherds of the broken are the people who take care of others. Who fight for those who can't fight for themselves. A lot of the time, these people don't originally choose to fight this battle. They look down in a hospital, and find themselves with the sudden responsibility of someone they love more than life itself, and realize that they've become one of those shepherds, and learn to fight for the broken ones.
Others are naturally that way, who gravitate toward the broken, and have fought for them their whole lives.
I fall somewhere in between. Perhaps 'shepherd of the broken' and 'keeper of the secrets' is somehow linked together in me. My desire to try and help take the hurt away in others, even if it hurts me, gets me into trouble sometimes. And knowing people's secrets can cause pain as well. And no one really knows any of my secrets, who ever truly asks, who I could trust with them in their entirety.
So each day goes by, guarding those who need to be cared for, tending those whose wounds need to be protected. And each night passes, hoping the nightmares will stay at bay long enough to sleep without dreams.
And so the cycle continues.
The shepherds of the broken are the people who take care of others. Who fight for those who can't fight for themselves. A lot of the time, these people don't originally choose to fight this battle. They look down in a hospital, and find themselves with the sudden responsibility of someone they love more than life itself, and realize that they've become one of those shepherds, and learn to fight for the broken ones.
Others are naturally that way, who gravitate toward the broken, and have fought for them their whole lives.
I fall somewhere in between. Perhaps 'shepherd of the broken' and 'keeper of the secrets' is somehow linked together in me. My desire to try and help take the hurt away in others, even if it hurts me, gets me into trouble sometimes. And knowing people's secrets can cause pain as well. And no one really knows any of my secrets, who ever truly asks, who I could trust with them in their entirety.
So each day goes by, guarding those who need to be cared for, tending those whose wounds need to be protected. And each night passes, hoping the nightmares will stay at bay long enough to sleep without dreams.
And so the cycle continues.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
what happens when you remove the audience participation
I am not always the perfect soul of discretion. Hey, I'm not perfect, and I am, unfortunately, all too human. I shove my foot in my mouth with the best of them. Who doesn't? What I do *not* do, however, is cause public scenes, without a damn good reason. I have to be absolutely furious to cause a public disturbance, and have some incredibly well-founded reasons, and just being a little pissy doesn't come anywhere near to qualifying under those guidelines. Neither does attempting to humiliate someone, simply because I figure I can. And, incidentally, I'm really, really good at making people feel stupid if they get into a pissing contest with me in a public forum.
But it's incredibly rude to do things like that, because for the most part, if you've got some sort of problem with somebody? You handle that shit discretely. You do *not* intentionally walk up to them, in a room full of people, raise your voice to top volume and all but shriek their entire name to make sure the entire room full of people are then focused on the two of you. Because if you do that to *me*, and I happen to be having a really bad day, you're liable to have one of two things happen. I'll either stand up, and point out that you're an uncouth and disrespectful piece of garbage who isn't worth the oxygen that you're breathing, and should have grown up when everyone got out of junior high, and should have been handling whatever petty little grievances you might have happened to be having privately. And I *do* have the vocabulary to support such a dress-down. Or I will simply haul off and punch you in your gods-damned face.
For a change, I happened to *not* be having such a bad day, that I employed a fairly new, third option. Which was having enough common courtesy and diplomacy at hand, all at once, to stand up *and walk outside* before I pointed out that this was a high-school petty bullshit display, and it was immature and idiotic. There was no point to the complete lack of discretion, and no, I wasn't "embarrassed" or "humiliated" or even fearful of such a thing from the fallout, it was simply a matter of respecting the coordinator of the event more than the person who didn't seem to realize that acting like a petty thirteen year old girl in a public place was inappropriate. *I* am thirty-one years old, and much too old to be playing teenage games.
No, I wasn't going to email back and forth defending myself to the likes of such drama. You shoot me a message that states clearly "I have no interest in being friends." My response to that is to remove you from the social networking site list, and to move on with my day. I don't have a need to defend myself from attacks. Conversation or understanding or communication, perhaps. But an attack? No, thank you. I'm not in junior high school, nor will I ever be again.
Which is why I didn't bother standing outside for more than the two minutes it took to snicker, and walk away. I'm also not going to stand and argue the point in person. I have no need to 'defend' an attack. Communicate about it, yes. But 'defend myself', no.
And as I sit and write this now, I'm laughing. Because I could all but see the smoke pouring out of her ears, when she threatened to continue her attack if I walked away from her, and back inside. And it wasn't until I pointed out that *that* would be unacceptable behavior to the coordinator, and against the rules, that she backed down, knowing *I* was the one who followed those rules by insisting it be taken outside in the first place. Her attempt to set me up inside, by causing a scene that *she* started, had irritated me, and the threat that she was going to continue it, angered me, but not enough for her to break and continue the shenanigans. And we both knew it.
The goal was to get me to capitulate, and give her her way, and get some sort of...apology, I guess, so that peace could reign with her in charge once more. Except that I don't function that way. I am a great many things, but a pushover is, unfortunately for a lot of people, not one of them.
Certainly, I like having friends. Who doesn't? But I don't like it enough to put up with the likes of someone who will blatantly lie to my face, and to others, and who wants to be the center of attention all the time.
As a slight side note, the most irritating fact of the whole mess is that what I was accused of doing to her? Was leaking a secret out, that's public knowledge in the first place. *sigh* And *everyone* knows it. Which makes it all the more irritating, as she stood there hopping up and down and swearing that it was this huge secret.
There are days that being the keeper of the secrets is really irritating. Because people like that so seriously deserve to have their own dirty little secrets spit at them, just to point out that if I *truly* wanted to fuck up their precious little worlds? I could, and it would be *SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING* stuff to drop as information into the public domain, than what I'm always getting accused of.
Gods above and below, if you're going to tell me I ruined your life, perhaps I should really start doing that. At least it would be more fun for me.
But it's incredibly rude to do things like that, because for the most part, if you've got some sort of problem with somebody? You handle that shit discretely. You do *not* intentionally walk up to them, in a room full of people, raise your voice to top volume and all but shriek their entire name to make sure the entire room full of people are then focused on the two of you. Because if you do that to *me*, and I happen to be having a really bad day, you're liable to have one of two things happen. I'll either stand up, and point out that you're an uncouth and disrespectful piece of garbage who isn't worth the oxygen that you're breathing, and should have grown up when everyone got out of junior high, and should have been handling whatever petty little grievances you might have happened to be having privately. And I *do* have the vocabulary to support such a dress-down. Or I will simply haul off and punch you in your gods-damned face.
For a change, I happened to *not* be having such a bad day, that I employed a fairly new, third option. Which was having enough common courtesy and diplomacy at hand, all at once, to stand up *and walk outside* before I pointed out that this was a high-school petty bullshit display, and it was immature and idiotic. There was no point to the complete lack of discretion, and no, I wasn't "embarrassed" or "humiliated" or even fearful of such a thing from the fallout, it was simply a matter of respecting the coordinator of the event more than the person who didn't seem to realize that acting like a petty thirteen year old girl in a public place was inappropriate. *I* am thirty-one years old, and much too old to be playing teenage games.
No, I wasn't going to email back and forth defending myself to the likes of such drama. You shoot me a message that states clearly "I have no interest in being friends." My response to that is to remove you from the social networking site list, and to move on with my day. I don't have a need to defend myself from attacks. Conversation or understanding or communication, perhaps. But an attack? No, thank you. I'm not in junior high school, nor will I ever be again.
Which is why I didn't bother standing outside for more than the two minutes it took to snicker, and walk away. I'm also not going to stand and argue the point in person. I have no need to 'defend' an attack. Communicate about it, yes. But 'defend myself', no.
And as I sit and write this now, I'm laughing. Because I could all but see the smoke pouring out of her ears, when she threatened to continue her attack if I walked away from her, and back inside. And it wasn't until I pointed out that *that* would be unacceptable behavior to the coordinator, and against the rules, that she backed down, knowing *I* was the one who followed those rules by insisting it be taken outside in the first place. Her attempt to set me up inside, by causing a scene that *she* started, had irritated me, and the threat that she was going to continue it, angered me, but not enough for her to break and continue the shenanigans. And we both knew it.
The goal was to get me to capitulate, and give her her way, and get some sort of...apology, I guess, so that peace could reign with her in charge once more. Except that I don't function that way. I am a great many things, but a pushover is, unfortunately for a lot of people, not one of them.
Certainly, I like having friends. Who doesn't? But I don't like it enough to put up with the likes of someone who will blatantly lie to my face, and to others, and who wants to be the center of attention all the time.
As a slight side note, the most irritating fact of the whole mess is that what I was accused of doing to her? Was leaking a secret out, that's public knowledge in the first place. *sigh* And *everyone* knows it. Which makes it all the more irritating, as she stood there hopping up and down and swearing that it was this huge secret.
There are days that being the keeper of the secrets is really irritating. Because people like that so seriously deserve to have their own dirty little secrets spit at them, just to point out that if I *truly* wanted to fuck up their precious little worlds? I could, and it would be *SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING* stuff to drop as information into the public domain, than what I'm always getting accused of.
Gods above and below, if you're going to tell me I ruined your life, perhaps I should really start doing that. At least it would be more fun for me.
someone to watch over me
It's the middle of the night again, with the moon shining in the late night sky, while the nightmares chase me from sleep that once again is eluding me and the terrors that terrify me haunt me in a way my subconscious simply can't cope with.
And once more, I sit staring at the expanse of blank white walls, and huddle beneath a black fur blanket, and sit helpless as tears fall down, and wait for everything to pass. And wonder if this time will be the last time, and grow tired of all of it, and tired of fighting with the incessant pain and anger and fighting at an invisible monster that has seemingly no way of being conquered.
And in these late hours, where everything hurts so badly, and all I want is everything to stop, it would be so easy to give up the fight, and just let it all go, and that frightens me more than anything ever has, or ever could.
For everything I've done, and achieved, accomplished and succeeded at. With everything I've become and finally am at the point of standing steadily at...late at night, when I sit here, and am wrapped in a blanket, with pain wracking me, and nothing making sense, all I see, is that when I look around at everyone else, and then look at myself, and my life, and what's left:
There's no one to watch over me. Whether they lie to each other, are unhappy with one another, fight, make up, scream, hate, or love each other...at the end of the day, everyone else has someone to watch over each other...except me.
I have friends, go to school, a job, all the things that make up a normal life, but at the end of the day, when it's time to wind down, and talk about the day, and commiserate with someone who cares, and someone to count on in an emergency. If I'm sick, or unhappy, or need someone...I don't have that. There's no one who loves me, or cares, or wants to be with me, where I am, who wants to be a part of my life, and wants me to be a part of theirs.
And I'm not trying to imply that I have a miserable life, because that is not actually the case. My life is actually very good. But in the middle of the night, when I look around, and I'm alone, and I'm tired, and the nightmares are overwhelming me...and all I really want is someone to hold me, and chase the monsters away? The most lonely feeling in the world is knowing that no one loved me enough to want to watch over me, and wanted to slay the demons that haunted me in my dreams.
And once more, I sit staring at the expanse of blank white walls, and huddle beneath a black fur blanket, and sit helpless as tears fall down, and wait for everything to pass. And wonder if this time will be the last time, and grow tired of all of it, and tired of fighting with the incessant pain and anger and fighting at an invisible monster that has seemingly no way of being conquered.
And in these late hours, where everything hurts so badly, and all I want is everything to stop, it would be so easy to give up the fight, and just let it all go, and that frightens me more than anything ever has, or ever could.
For everything I've done, and achieved, accomplished and succeeded at. With everything I've become and finally am at the point of standing steadily at...late at night, when I sit here, and am wrapped in a blanket, with pain wracking me, and nothing making sense, all I see, is that when I look around at everyone else, and then look at myself, and my life, and what's left:
There's no one to watch over me. Whether they lie to each other, are unhappy with one another, fight, make up, scream, hate, or love each other...at the end of the day, everyone else has someone to watch over each other...except me.
I have friends, go to school, a job, all the things that make up a normal life, but at the end of the day, when it's time to wind down, and talk about the day, and commiserate with someone who cares, and someone to count on in an emergency. If I'm sick, or unhappy, or need someone...I don't have that. There's no one who loves me, or cares, or wants to be with me, where I am, who wants to be a part of my life, and wants me to be a part of theirs.
And I'm not trying to imply that I have a miserable life, because that is not actually the case. My life is actually very good. But in the middle of the night, when I look around, and I'm alone, and I'm tired, and the nightmares are overwhelming me...and all I really want is someone to hold me, and chase the monsters away? The most lonely feeling in the world is knowing that no one loved me enough to want to watch over me, and wanted to slay the demons that haunted me in my dreams.
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