It may be hump day to some....

But it's Friday to me!!! T.G.I.W, Y'all!!

Wow, way to perky. Actually feeling kinda down, kinda anxious. REALLY DID NOT want to come to work today. Have people to call I don't want to call, I'd like to tell them to just go to hell, but I can't. I just want to crawl into the dirt, and let the whole world pass overhead for a while. Of course it could have something to do with the fact it's the first Wednesday I've worked in 3 months. Or it could be...just once I'd like to dish everything that pisses me off at my peon-call center-customer service-job(Americans shouldn't travel, they're not prepared for the consequences), but since I don't want to be walked out right now... This week my new shift started - a 4 day, 10 hour one, and my new days off are Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I still have 3 mandatory OT hours to do, so I'll come in on Sunday. No biggie.

Starting to think about the trip to Chicago in November to see my son's graduation from basic. Ya know, being po' I don't get to travel much. So I haven't used the so-called "travel benefits" of my Not-to-be-Named Travel Conglomerate employer. It looks like I can get a pretty decent air fare (and refundable/changable, too!), hotels has me a little bumfuzzled. What I'm thinking may not be realistic: a couple of days near Great Lakes, a couple of days in the city, at a decent rate. I'm getting a little overwhelmed at the "and then what..." portion. I know about Second City, and Oprah (but can you actually plan on being at an "Oprah gives crap to her audience" day?). I'd like to do the Field Musuem (it'll have some Pompeii thing going on), but after that, I get kind of stuck. And I still don't have specific dates.

I finished Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire yesterday at work. Really good, satisfying. I guess I could start to cycle through the Harry Potter books, it might take me two weeks. Jimmy's reading a book that looks good, but I don't remember the name. I'll get it eventually.

Just under four hours to go.

Damn.

No real news on the home front. Jimmy came home yesterday. I had to pick him up at work this morning at around 12:30 am. His car has two flat tires: passengerside front and driverside rear.

Randy is still demanding an apology, but has told me he hasn't got it. Jesus, God, they both can be sooooo pissy. And so much alike.

I guess I'm going to have to sit my obstinant son down and explain to him that he isn't a "stepson" to the Hubby, he's a "son". So not being in the loop hurts his feelings.

My son is a lot like me. So when he doesn't say something to me or let me know what's going on, it's not because he's being mean, it's more being a little ditzy. Too much on the mind that pushes other things out. Or that he doesn't want a fuss to be made (like not telling me he was leading the Pledge of Allegiance).

So, last night, technically this morning, he told me he knew for about 2 weeks he was going to his dads. So why didn't you tell us, I ask. Well he didn't offcially get the week off until the last minute, which was why he couldn't fly. I wasn't asking why he didn't fly.

OT, I'm having a hard time getting into Mirror, Mirror, also by Gregory Maguire. Wicked is still fresh in my mind. On the upside, Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince is only 3 weeks away! I've had that purchased since May 5.

Me and the Hubby went to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith yesterday. I wouldn't call it great, but we liked it.

Walking out of the theater the Hubby said, "Do ya want to work out our problems?"
I laughed and said no.

Except for not wanting to be at work today (and it feeling like Monday), I feel ok today. A little crampy, but that only means I'm starting the 3-5 days I'm NOT in PMS, and that periods bite.

Here's a list of the books I've finished lately:

Devil in the White City by Erik Larson - This is a great book. It really does read like a novel.

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel - Another really great book. Riveting.

the curious incident of the dog in the night-time by Mark Haddon - O. M. G. It's great! You completely believe you're in the mind of an autistic teen.

I never did finish Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire - it was just too sad. I was just too connected to Elphaba. I liked her.

I never finished Lonesome Dove, either. I read it when I lived in New York, '88-'89. Just too unrelentingly sad. Too much death.

I did finish Cujo, but didn't read another Stephen King novel for like 15 years. The ending bit.

Another ending I didn't like: The World According to Garp. Still a good book, though.

Storm's Passed

And it was a quick squall - to the Hubby. It's over, it's done with and he's happy.

Which is something I don't understand. It's like a virus in me, multiplying until it knocks me on my ass.

My husband is still hurt and angry at Jimmy for his perceived secrecy and plotting with his dad behind his back.

My Marriage May Be Over

Or, I could be making a mountain out of a molehill. I do that quite well.

About 9pm last night, I noticed Jimmy was home. Geez, scares the hoo out of me, it's like he appears out of nowhere! I don't hear his car, him openning the door, or walking across the carpet to his room. He's just there, and I go give him a hug, and he asks if he could get a ride to his work tomorrow morning. He says his dad wants to see him for a week. I say that's cool.

But Mt. St Randy erupts. He yells if he goes down there, he's never to come back. And he should have told us what's going on. And then he goes into all my problems (mostly housework related, and no, having a full-time job that's 45 miles away from my house doesn't count). He blows up that way for a while, then ends up whining that I don't want to do anything for him, That he just had surgery, he shouldn't be doing this, and on, and on.

But as a switch, I didn't get suicidal, I got angry and sullen. Now I'm still angry, but also sad and confused.

I want to cry on someone's shoulder, but I don't want to bother people with my problems.

I want to be accepted the way I am - warts and all.

Is that wrong?!

Leave My PBS Alone!!

As you can tell by my Blogroll, I love my progressive posters. I myself, while being rabidly Democrat, it's hard for me to write about it. And being shy, it's hard for me to talk about.

But I'm tired...

And I'm frustrated...

and now they're fucking with my PBS (and yes, I consider it MY PBS)! They're claiming to bring "balance", but this (requires registration - ick) isn't balance:

E-mail messages obtained by investigators at the Corporation for Public Broadcasting show that its chairman, Kenneth Y. Tomlinson, extensively consulted a White House official shortly before she joined the corporation about creating an ombudsman's office to monitor the balance and objectivity of public television and radio program.

(Oh, and I'm sorry if I'm stepping on any copyrighting toes - I don't mean to) As I understand the term "ombudsman", it doesn't mean toeing the Repub party line. In fact, this is what it means:

Noun

ombudsman
An appointed official whose duty is to investigate complaints, generally on behalf of individuals such as consumers or taxpayers, against institutions such as companies and government departments.

From Wiktionary.

Now which individuals are complaining about PBS?

And I don't give a crap what your beliefs are. They're yours, you are entitled to them. Just don't shove them down my throat. That's one thing good about being quiet and shy, we might think you're a jack-booted Nazi, but we would never say so.

I don't know. Maybe I live in a fantasy world (lets make it TNG), but what happened to courtesy, to civility? If you're going to say something that would make your horrified mother say, "That's not nice!", why say it? (and DOES Rush Limbaugh kiss his mother with that mouth?) And no, I'm not talking about a return to the repressive Victorian era, some (god! not me) may want that genie back in the bottle, but it's not going to happen. I'm talking about not acting like a school yard bully.

I guess that's why I'll always prefer the big tent of the Democrats (even if we're arguing amongst ourselves), to the Republican Borg.

And if they ever come to take me to that nice, new Haliburton prison in Gitmo, thanks to their slavish devotion to the 2nd Amendment, it won't be without a fight.

A Rare Day-off Posting

The hubby's asleep in his chair. Laundry is rinsing. Bubba and Cooter want to go for a walk (ostensibly to potty, but really to see the the dogs next door, Sparky and Max are outside). So I don't have a lot of time.

I know I need to get back to my story, but lately my head hasn't been in it. It's getting there.

Did the normal day-off walking of the M-in-L's pasture (she has, like, 40 acres), that the Hubby does every day. Towards the back, along a fence line, in between some sandplums are blackberries!! That aren't being eaten by whatever critters live around there!! Really tart, but really tasty!

Well, the laundry sound's like it's done, and Bubba's still whining and moaning, so I better go.

I feel a little better this morning.

I mean, I still feel worthless, a zero, that my life really isn't worth living, but I don't exactly want to kill myself right now.

I still wish I had readers.

I feel so alone.

Update

Checkbook's overdrawn.

Husband yelled at me.

Seriously crashing.

You know...I tried to be happy, to feel like I'm worth something, that every day is a new day and my life is worth living, but, damn... I'm just fooling myself. I'd like to think I have talent in my writing, but I don't. I'm not the worst person at my job, but that doesn't really count, anybody can do it.

There's just no point.

You know I wrote below about my son's screwing off his senior year. And how I'd never seen one report card, or class progress report.

Well...

I got his final report card (paper?) in the mail, oh, like, Friday. And my idea of screwing off and his idea of screwing off are two different things.

He at the end of the year he had 4 B's and 3 A's.

Looking at the breakdown there are some things from the first semester I would have been concerned about: He had C's in Yearbook in the first semester (A's the second); he also had C's in AP English (but pulled out a final B) - yeah, that one would have hacked me off (that one he did screw off). And then there's Honors Calculus, the class I told him he couldn't quit (but he did anyway). If I did it all over I would say the same thing, "NO, you have a B! That's not 'not getting it'!" I got out of Del City High School with a 1.7 GPA (not to mention getting out of grade school knowing no math at all), I know about "not getting it" and screwing off.

There is nothing wrong with an honest D, if you worked your hardest to get it. Somebody (hello...hello...hello...) please explain this to me. Is this some kind of honor student/perfectionist dealie?

But, yeah, my first look at his grades were with a good deal of confusion. I went into his room and said, "These grades aren't bad, I don't know why you wouldn't show them to me!"
"Well that's just barely a B (in English)."

OK.

And he's MY son! Wow.

I have some thoughts about this from media girl and Steve Gilliard (via Atrios).

First from this article (yes, registration required):

Last fall when my Arlington high school senior finally got the nerve to tell me that he’d gotten a C in the first quarter of his AP English class, I did what any self-respecting, grade-obsessed parent whose son is applying to college would do. I cried. Then I e-mailed his teacher and made an appointment for the three of us to meet. My son’s teacher was accommodating. She agreed that if my son did A work for the second quarter, colleges would see a B average for the two quarters, not that ruinous C.

There’s a term for the legions of parents like me. The parents who make sure to get the teacher’s e-mail and home phone number on Back to School Night. The kind who e-mail teachers when their child fails a quiz. The kind who apply the same determination to making sure their child excels academically that they apply to the professional world.

We are called "helicopter parents" because we hover over everything our kids do like Secret Service agents guarding the president. (My son refers to me as an Apache attack helicopter, and he’s Fallujah under siege.) Only we aren’t worried about our kids getting taken out by wild-eyed assassins. We just want them to get into a "good" (whatever that means) college.

Yes, I had a kid who spent, pretty much, his entire school life in the Gifted and Talented Program (now going by the wayside in so many places, thanks to No Child Left Behind). I don't think I was a "helicopter parent". I never paid for Jimmy's A's (Jesus God, I couldn't afford them!). I never pressured him to make A's. My concern was that he was doing the best that he could, and not screwing off. As long as he was doing the best he could, grades didn't matter to me. I made sure he did his homework. Of course the older he got, the answer I got, more often than not, was "I did it - or will do it - at school". And it got done later and later. And until his Senior year, his grades were stellar.

But I have to admit, once he was in high school and taking the hard classes (for the most part), I developed stars in my eyes. My dad went to Southwestern State university (now Southwestern Oklahoma State University) in Weatherford, OK. He learned to fly. I went to Oscar Rose Junior College (now Rose State College), in Midwest City, OK, but didn't finish. I saw boundless opportunity. I scoured colleges all over the nation. I was happy. I was proud. At first, my son just assumed he'd go to college. I knew he didn't have to have a major at first. But I guess not knowing what he was going to do really threw Jimmy for a loop. It got to a point where I couldn't help him, I wouldn't actually choose his college. I got really frustrated about his nonaction. Deadline after deadline passed with nothing happening. I was getting more frustrated and angry. But how could I explain to him that my anger and frustration weren't with him, per se, but the situation? I always thought I would go back to college, but I never did. My sister ( who has a brilliant mind) had babies (too) early, and had to be in the workforce to provide for them.

Life gets in the way. You have a family to provide for. Money is tight. Time is precious. And then it slips by. Did I explain any of this to my son? No. I told him (rather forcefully) he wasn't a loser, and he had to do something. He joined the Navy. I can't say that I'm happy, I would have preferred he went to college, but it will give him the direction he needed.

All-in-all, I never felt like a good mother, because I wasn't the "helicopter" mom. I don't have alot of pictures of my son, because I couldn't afford them. I didn't save every last little award he ever won. There were the years I was happy he qualified for lunches at a reduced price, because otherwise it would be peanut butter. Oh, and though he was Mr. Social at school, at home all I got about school was "fine". So, I would ask, "Is there anything I have to look at?" At teachers conferences, teachers would gush and talk about all he did in school. And I would have the surprised/confused/I am such a bad mother look on my face, because I didn't have a clue.

But maybe I was ok, after all.

Oh, and if I had ever found out Jimmy whined and moaned to get a deserved lower grade raised, I would kick his ass. Yeah, that would never have happened. Jimmy's teachers adored him.

OH, and according to Steve Gilliard, I only have a couple of readers, because I'm not that good a writer. I'll have to second that.

No Shit?!

WASHINGTON, D.C., Jun 2 (OneWorld) -
Doctors and insurance companies are wrong to blame the U.S. medical malpractice crisis on a supposed explosion of lawsuits and skyrocketing jury awards, say new studies.

Insurance companies have been given a pass when it comes to their culpability for way too long now. We have to pick our doctors and hospitals not according to who's convienient, but who's on the list. Let's take my psychiatrist, Dr. Chak - as long as he was a part of the Decsions program, all well and good for my insurance, but when I need to see him for followup care afterward, no luck - he's not on the list. Now I'm on my last refill of Zoloft (and I'm back to being not real happy with it), and my counselor (who's on the list) has given me the name of another psychiatrist, but her office hasn't called me back (which feeds back into the "I hate to be ignored" thing).

And then we get to go into the whole formulary thing, where it ends up being the insurance company who decides what drugs we are prescribed, we have to have something on the formulary, because we can't afford full price.

I would rather my family's and my healthcare be in our and our physicians hands.

But I can't afford that.

I've been kinda blue the last couple of days. I can't really say why.

I've been taking my meds (well, med) regularly (except I did forget this morning).
The hubby's staples are out, he's on a higher level of pain med, and feeling better.
Since I've been sleeping on my side or stomach, I've been waking feeling much more rested than I have been.
Period's just ended. Of course, I DO tend to slip right from period to PMS anymore.
My new house is still beautiful, and still clean (for the most part). Now, vacuuming is kind of an adventure, because the dogs, Bassets Bubba and Cooter, are deathly afraid of the vacuum (running or not). Both will jump into their Daddy's lap for him to protect them from the demon spawn. Of course, their Daddy has just had hernia repair surgery and two 40 pound terrified dogs jumping into his lap is not a good thing.
I did finally get my car's oil changed (next will be washing and cleaning out).

On the other hand:

My job bites. But then I DO have a job. And it does pay ok (relatively).
I am in a HUGE rut (again, more like a chasm).
I have no readers. But then, I really have no talent - except to go on and on about myself.


I am just existing. A rat, running the maze it always runs for the same small treat it always gets.

SIGH.