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Crush enemies, abandon hope, and unleash endless waves of unrepentant sarcasm. |
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There's nothing to see here that's really out of the ordinary. Nothing really terribly interesting either, unless you like griping, gossip, grudges, and possible mental illness. If anything it's some small way to keep myself writing (though you'll see by the dates on the entries that it's by no means an effective way), as well as a means through which I can vent about any number of things that are pissing me off. Occasionally there's pie. Look: I'm not a normal person. I'm suffering from untreated depression and plagued by increasingly frequent migraines that pretty much render me bedridden for days. I've suffered a lifetime of abuse and neglect, and still have to struggle with unfathomable depths of low self-worth, not to mention the eating disorders. I'm a weirdo, a freak, an aberration of nature and human experience . . . but it doesn't make me interesting. So, you can read this if you want. I've got some social commentary that might be a little fun, and occasionally throw in a poem or two, but for the most part it's the ramblings of a stricken mind. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain; she's just trying to change her dress. |
| I am DONE. I am officially DONE with the application and employment packets. I'm not used to feeling so exhausted at a mere one-o'clock in the morning, but I want nothing more than to collapse and fade away for twelve to fourteen hours Allow me to explain. A few days ago I found a listing on Craigslist for document review openings. I figured, what the hell, if this is for lawyers only then there's no harm in emailing, and it may be like the BrownGreer thing. This afternoon I received an email telling me to call the emailer around ten AM to discuss the position. I totally was, but the lady decided to call me first . . . at a quarter to nine PM. Naturally I'm not used to getting job-related calls this late, but it seems the job is starting on Monday so they are working overtime trying to fill the slots. So here's the skinny: they need document reviewers for three or four weeks for some case, to be paid about 14 dollars per hour, forty hours per week. And it's at 4th and Franklin, even closer than the Federal Building. Apparently I'm good enough to be seriously considered, so this lady sent me the application packet and the employment packet. This may mean I've already been selected, but I won't consider it a done deal until they tell me, "Be at 555 East Franklin in Suite 666 by 8:30 on Monday." So I set about filling out the forms (which took up the evening I WAS going to spend on the letter for Mapcom) and I just now finished, at around 1:10 in the morning. I forgot how much I HATE this process. But I'd rather have something to bitch about and get paid soon after than bitch without compensation. And while I was filling out the forms, ANOTHER person from the company emailed me and told me to call them in the morning to discuss opportunities! What the hell, I'll wake up and see if he has anything longer term. I think after doing the BP gig and working for the IRS, I can handle a law firm. I'm hopping on Oblivion for juuuuuuust a moment. I want to see if the patches I download will make it crash. Sleep time soon after, I swear. |
| Hello, blog. I'm updating you because I need to do that more often, and because I vowed that I would work out every other day and then discuss how much it hurt. Last night (read: this morning at around 3:00) I did some crunches. I think the grand total with all rests included might be about 45. They hurt, and I'm ashamed I have lost all muscular development, but I must start somewhere and be patient before I can reclaim my glory. I also did twenty pushups, which is the really hard part because while I have great stores of fat around my hips and legs, my arms are like wee balsa wood constructs held together at the elbows with scotch tape. They were the wussy knee pushups, too. I'm not going to be able to do a full pushup for a long time. I'm also writing to say, I think my head is about to explode. My right eye started hurting twenty minutes ago, and when it stopped the pain moved to the left half of the base of my skull. Not only do I feel pressure increasing as I type, but I have been overcome quite suddenly by a strong desire to purge my stomach of all its contents despite the fact that there's absolutely nothing in there. I weep now. Time to flee the screen before I dry heave stomach acid into the keyboard. |
| It's New Year's Eve and I've got a case of fucking influenza It's New Year's Eve and I've got a case of fucking influenza And my joints are aching Cause my head is baking And I'll never talk to you again My temp is one-hundred and one I'll never talk to you again I want some snacks but I have none I'll never talk to you again Does anybody have a gun? I'll never talk to you again, I'll never talk to you agaaaaaain *cough* Based off the Blink 182 song |
| I've been really depressed since Thursday. I think it's just unemployment that's gotten me down. I'm a third of the way through my savings, and I've only had one interview - two months ago. It's very easy to get discouraged in this economy. I'm not sure what to do with myself. Just gotta keep applying and keep dealing with the unemployment office. I miss Will. I've seem him three times in the last two weeks. First at Buck's bachelor party, then the evening before the wedding to watch "Dark Corners" with Bradley and Alex, and then the wedding itself. He's so busy and nature itself is against him doing well in his classes. He may not be able to register because his landlord is kind of a crook (more checks were "lost in the mail." Again, two months ago. And the landlord is demanding that Will, who has never missed payment, miss his classes do something about it). And then his computer stopped running Microsoft Word and he spent all of yesterday trying to fix it. He has way too much to worry about and I'm getting concerned for his state of mind. I'm worried he may do something crazy, like drop out of school, go on a massive drinking binge, or jump off a cliff. I'm sure he won't, but there's always that little bit of doubt there to ruin my morning. I'm watching "The Changeling" on YouTube. Not much else to do tonight but watch horror movies if I can get my hands on them. Maybe I'll look up documentaries on demonic possession when this is done. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Okay, I'm trying this again. So all the crap I had to put up with made me want to just curl up and go to bed for a week, and once I was in that frame of mind, this 42-day blog challenge seemed a LOT less significant. But I'm going to try it again. If only because I have nothing else to do. First big news: Rigel is alive and well. My mother saw him wandering around outside a bit more than two weeks after his escape, and actually fell down the hill trying to catch him. It's a testimony to her surgeon that her knee was just fine and she just got up and walked back to the house. Later that night, my father actually did something she told him, and left the basement door open while he was combing the dog. Rigel just walked right on in. He was not eating very well, but the vet has cleared him (and gotten him up-to-date on all his shots). So that story ended well. Leaving WCC was . . . rough. Super depressingly rough. I wanted to give everyone their thank you cards personally (well, most of them. It's a bit more awkward giving a card to someone you barely know), and I kept it together when I gave Gerri hers, but I completely fell apart when I gave Hope her card. I'm tearing up a bit now. All the crap and inefficiency of IT and the angry callers and Wayne and Esther, I'd put up with it. Hell, at least then I'd still HAVE a job. These were good people. Tonua told me that if they could keep just one of us, people on both teams wanted to keep me. It means a lot to know I do good work. It means I am worth something. And other news: Jay's going to be out by the end of the month, or so he says. I haven't heard him talk about leaving, or his new housing arrangement, and I certainly haven't seen him pack anything or even clean his room. So we'll see if Brandon has to throw open the door (if he can) on the first of November and tell him to get the hell out. And we'll see if Jay either starts yelling or crying. And THEN we'll see if he gets to stay. I'm so glad he's leaving. I can't take his shit anymore. He's a fucking Stephen King character, a youthful black Jack Torrence. He broke my Jolly Roger bracelet by leaving it in his pocket while doing laundry, which led to a bit of an exchange, me incredulous that he can't check his pockets, he saying it's not his fault, it was in his pocket and he didn't know, and then me bringing up the missing keys that were in his pants the whole time. His response is that, "Shit happens. And a lot of shit happens to ME." And on and on. He summed up what I've been believing this past year: nothing is ever his fault, in his mind. I get onto him for leaving the door open? He at once yells that the door sticks and it's not his fault, though he knew about the door well enough to blame IT for the breach. His keys go missing and I have to get out of bed at two or three AM several nights a week because he's out drinking or something? He can't help it if his keys decided to run away. Never mind that I wouldn't be half as upset if I didn't have to wake up on a weekday to let him in, but I'm sure I should just accept his apology and go back to my bed like a good little girl so I can be rested for all the other times I have to let him in. Jay needs to grow the fuck up, or at least get the hell out of this house. More to come later. For now I think I will head to Lee's Chicken and get a tasty meal. Update: I checked my email and found a coupon for a six-dollar meal at Qdoba. Fuck you, Lee's chicken place, I'm getting a burrito. |
| Well doesn't life just suck sometimes. First I had to throw together 150 surveys, all while scanning, putting cases together, and trying to procure summary sheets. I didn't eat lunch until 2:30. Mind you, Wayne was in, but he spent maybe three hours at his desk. I swear he took something like a ninety-minute lunch break. I was all too ready to get home and pass the fuck out. But while I was trying to nap, I got a call from my mother. Guess what?! Rigel got out . . . two days ago. And we've just had a bunch of thunderstorms roll through. Declawed cat who's never been outside for more than a few hours. The prognosis is fairly grim. I put a brave face (or is it a brave voice?) while on the phone, then just started weeping and trying to hide under the sheet. I still hate seeming weak to my mother. I'm kinda sorta hoping he's just pulling a Sammy and will saunter back in a few days, but a big part of me is sure he's dead. A big part of me was sure Kaia was dead at one point, so perhaps I should not trust the gut feeling. It still fucking sucks. Fuck this noise. I'm going to bed. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Dinosaurs, mother fucking Dinosaurs is on Netflix. Holy shit. My Childhood has just been reaffirmed. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| I finally did that online simulation for the CSR job. For some reason it would not recognize my key strokes when I tried to input "tax payer" information. I had to keep stabbing the same key over and over before it would register, and all my forms were partially complete. Hopefully my answers were good enough and they do not count that part of the assessment. I thought I did fairly well, and after all there is training. Now I just wait for the next step. I was almost pissed today. My volume icon vanished from the taskbar, and I could not get it back. When one's sole means of volume control is otherwise tapping the keyboard repeatedly until you get it right, that little icon is kind of nice. But, a lovely restart fixed everything. God Bless the PC. I have a big morning ahead of me. There was so much mail to handle, and Chandelle didn't even seem to try to get any of it processed. Ah well, at least the day will go by faster. Two and a half weeks! I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| I missed yesterday's post, and almost missed today's, but I'm not skipping a font color. We're doing this until we reach black. I am sad, because my Dracula Legacy collection is defective, and disk two will not play. I will have to contact the DVD manufacturers and see if I cannot get a replacement. I know it's nothing I did, because I've watched the first DVD twice, and never the second. Instead, Will and I watched Coppola's film, which I have bitched and moaned about quite a bit. I think I was in a bad mood when I first saw that movie, because honestly, it's pretty fucking good. Yeah, the ghost images look a little silly, the green fog is dumb, and Keanu Reeves still comes off as a bad Orlando Bloom impersonator (I have nothing against Orlando Bloom's acting, just that in half the films I've seen him in he doesn't act so much as look terribly bored), but the movie is good and suspenseful, dramatic, and very pretty. Hell, it's the only adaptation I've ever seen with the chase scene at the end. My main problem is that some parts of it look like they belong in an art film, and the rest is a standard feature film. Coppola wanted the best of both worlds, I guess. But it is late, and work is going to suck royally. Oh well, three weeks to go! I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| I just played a Star Wars D&D campaign . . . for twelve hours. A few notes: Necro is fucking crazy, and kills innocent people just to smear their blood on his face and drag their corpses around Playing next to a "noob" who keeps trying to have conversations with other people while plans are being made is annoying Brandon playing a highly excitable teenager is adorable, and annoying Jay makes a fucking awesome captain and is totally bad ass You don't need meat shields when shoving a flamethrower in someone's face. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
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