Cry-y, Whiney Day

Guess what I ran out of on Friday?

The weekend was fine, and I started out today okay, but it's been a slow slide downhill.

I didn't actually start out okay, Cooter kept trying to wake me up, from about 3:30 on. And he's a persistant Coot - he'll stand on my chest and lick my face if it isn't covered, then nibble on my feet if they're not covered. If everything's covered (and I don't like my head being covered - I feel like I'm suffocating), he'll lay down and whine. I gave up at 4:30, walked the boys and napped on the couch (having weird dreams) until 6:30, when I had to get ready for work. To be fair to the boys, it was an hour later than normal.

I get to work, and there are already 13 people on hold. Geez, people, I don't give a crap about your travel problems today. Have some responsibility for your own reservations.

Jimmy is down to 10 days now. I'm looking forward to Charleston. I found a cool walking tour - Ghosts of Charleston - I found it on CNN. Just now, Googling, I also found this one, Ghosts & Legends of Charleston. Luckily Jimmy's going to be there a while, I can't see all I want to in just one little visit.

On a scale of 1 to 10:

My anxiety is an 8.
My depression is about a 7.

Can today just be over?

Well, I do still have a job. I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Jimmy called on Saturday. On my cel phone. While I was at work. Kinda got in trouble with the supervisor. Horrors!! I didn't put my job before my family!! I took a personal call when I was supposed to be attached to the phone!!

I have only three words to say:
Kiss. My. Ass.

I didn't get to talk to him very long, but he sounds good. He wants us to blow off Chicago (Ha! Blow off! Ha!), because he goes to Charleston, SC just a couple hours later. He does want us to come to Charleston, because he'll have a 3 day liberty once he's processed (or whatever). I'm pretty sure I have the vacation time, but I'm not sure all the days are available.

Wow!! Who Knew?!

My blog is worth $1,693.62.
How much is your blog worth?

Via Skippy.

The New and Improved Me!

Well, maybe not new. I still have some negative thoughts running around my brain, but I'm trying to replace them.

I go back to work on Friday. There have been some issues about that. Like my work was never told by the Short Term Disability people that my claim had been approved. They told me on the phone and, silly me, assumed my work also knew, so I didn't call in. They had me counted as "No-Call, No-Show", which, in call center terms, is bad. My HR person at work told me to call them again, and I did, and they were supposed to refax to the claims department (does anybody know what the hell is going on?). That very day I get a letter saying my STD was approved. Jesus H. Christ!! Sooo, I never did call in, soooo we'll see Friday if I have a job. I'm not really worried about it (the unimproved me would have been), I have my letter and my new quasi-assertiveness going for me.

We'll see how it goes.

I need to visit the facilities, and then potty the boys, so I better go for now.

Sunday Thoughts

I finally got a letter from Jimmy at Great Lakes Naval Station. It turns out he had sent out an earlier letter but didn't put a stamp on the envelope.

Since I was up front about what happened to me, he reminded me that suicide is bad. He also says his life sucks, he gets yelled at all the time, has little time for calls, you know normal basic training stuff. He's wondering if he made the right decision. he called hope a plague.

He also said not to bother with graduation, because just a couple of hours later, he'll be going on the Charleston and Nuke School. He says it would be better to visit him during his 15 day leave at Christmastime. Yeah, good luck for me to get time off then.

But it was good to hear from him. He still has his wry sense of humor.

I'll probably have to go back to work at the end of next week. I may be ready, but I'm not looking forward to it. I am sooooo burned out of that job! I mean I love the people and the company has been pretty good to me, but I'm sick of it. I want to do something I enjoy, something I'm meant to do. I just don't have a clue as to what that is. I'd like to go to college. Maybe that would be a good first step.

And no, I still haven't done my therapy homework.

Re: "Recruit McNey Reporting for Duty"

It's been one month today. I just realized that. I've now sent him three letters and have only received one. Yes, I know he's busy. What can I say? I know he's a man now, but I'm still a mother.

A mother but not a mother hen; the ex has been calling pretty regularly (ik). First to see if Jimmy was still here, that he needed to say goodbye. Then to see if I had the address, and hell, yeah I did, but the Hubby didn't tell him that. The last time was to say (I guess) he'd had a call from Jimmy, and the Hubby, not gently, told him not to call anymore.

There's a part of me that says, "well he should have called me, too!!" Like I said just before, he's a man now. I'm going to let him be a man, even if I don't like it. And, again he IS busy, and he's never really been one to write, and if 3 of the 6 girls I've given his address to are in contact with him, who knows, he might not have any spare time left.

Today is day 2 of Birthday Week. Yesterday would have been Mama's 81st birthday. Today is my deceased F-in-L's birthday, tomorrow is MY BIRTHDAY, Friday is the B-in-L's birthday (but he doesn't count), and Saturday is Jimmy's. I've already told Jimmy he needs to aim for October 17th. No reaction.

Still being lazy about Therapy homework, journaling, timeline, letters to my parents. I'm starting to get a little apprehensive about going back to work. I need to find out what I want to do, and go back to school. I can't take any more mind-numbing, soul-destroying jobs. I really DO need to think about me and my needs. AAAAnnnndddd I need to be more assertive, and I need to set and keep boundaries.

I'm still working on those last two.

Well, I Should Be Working

I'm supposed to be doing a timeline and jounaling for my group therapy. But I haven't done either. Well, I've wrote down some of my past: 0-6 that I can remember and some of 7-12. But, damn, most of what I went through after 3rd grade (when I got spanked for not finishing my work, not a big deal to most, but I made it a big deal), it seems like I created myself. I still say, if I had taken Mama's advice (Laugh with them! Kind of in the mode of "Never let them see you sweat."), the merciless teasing would have went away. I decided to look at myself through depression-colored glasses (and just what color IS depression).

To a degree, I feel (look!! I'm using I statements!) like I'm both connected with my group, and disconnected. Most had really crappy childhoods (involving alcohol, abuse or both), but I didn't. I knew I was loved by a big group of people, Mama and Daddy, Aunt (pronounced Ain't) Ninnie, Grandma (technically my great-grandma), Grandma Ben (Mama's mama), Grandmother (Daddy's mom), and uncounted aunts and uncles and cousins, and even my sister. But I still had this huge sense of self loathing, and a raging social phobia that went light years beyond my natural reticence, that I can't really connect with anything.

And, I don't know what I said, but now their griping at the Hubby. Saying he's some kind of attention hog because of his disease, and that's not true. Now, if I try to get them to take that back, I'll be the one in denial. Yeah, the Hubby has his problems. Yeah, he should probably be the one in group therapy, doing his time line. But I'm the one who went beyond suicidal talk, to having the pills in my hand. I can only help me, and that's what I'm doing. But, I swear, get off my husband's back!! I'm not babying him, I care about him. I'll love him forever, and be with him until he or I die.

Oh, and there's a new guy in group. Bipolar, about 10 years older than me. I swear I get fucking annoyed (another I statement!) with him! It's like he's proud of the 35 years of therapy and hospitalizations and medications. Ok, maybe he should be proud of that, in a way, but does he have to lord it over us. I really can't stand know-it-alls, even mentally ill ones. I feel like he's trying to take over and show us all up (oooh! I'm getting good at that!).

So, maybe I should be ready to go back to work on Monday. Maybe I need to fly out of the nest, though if you would have asked me last week about that, I'd have said you're nuts.

As for me, I'm still leaning toward Bipolar II. But hell, I don't know.

Shocked...and Numb

Again, I want to thank my readers for their concern! It's really been a help.

On the insurance front, I still haven't received my cards, but was told by my HR that I could print out copies off the web. So I was able to do that. Since I got the low option, I still have to pay 30%, which for SHARE at ST Anthony's is around $66 A DAY.

Yeah, tell me that THAT doesn't push one of my anxiety buttons!

On the therapy front, I'm still trying to do my timeline, but my past wasn't that traumatic. My therapist has suggested I may be Bipolar. I was completely shocked, I mean, pick my jaw up off the floor time! In my mind, I have never been manic. Part of my homework, besides the timeline, was reading up on Bipolar. It seems like I may have Bipolar II, which has milder manic episodes, called "hypomania". Which, like I said, I can't tell you I've ever had. But also, you could have recurring depressive episodes (yes), be either resistant to antidepressants or they stop working after awhile (yes).

The only thing I can compare the way I'm feeling to is when I learned at around 16 I had epilepsy (no, I don't have seizures anymore). The shocked, numb feeling giving way to the "well, that answers that" feeling. Right now I'm still more shocked than relieved.

Oh, that brings up another thing I read, some study says (or implied, or whatever) that people with epilepsy are more prone to Bipolar.

I may have answers now, let's see what happens next.

A Big Thank You...

To those concerned about me.

I'm now in an outpatient program, also at St Anthony's. I'm really impressed by it. I'm feeling alot better, but have a ways to go.
But now I'm having insurance problems - with the switch from being an employee of Company A, to being an employee of a separate company, whose client is Company A, I was supposed change insurance. It was supposed to be as of October 1, I have recieved no new insurance information. My doctor's don't want me to go back to work, and I really have to agree, but right now feel like I may not have any choice. This sucks, it just goddamned well sucks!

I guess I owe my handful of readers an explanation.

I've been going downhill for a while now. Yeah, I know, "Like, I can't tell!!" Week before last with the anxiety, last week the Hubby found out about being overdrawn. And all of a sudden life didn't seem like living. I grabbed my secret stash of sleeping pills that didn't work right on the Hubby, a cup of water and went out to my car. The Hubby called me on the cell phone telling me he had called the sheriff. It was like something broke through, I still had the pills in a death grip, but I decided I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live, either.

I didn't wait for the sheriff. I drove to my family doctor (the really cute Jesse Ray XXXXXXXX). On the way there, the Hubby called me, frantic, asking me where I am. I told him I was going to the doctor. I called for an appointment from the parking lot. "I have an appointment at 11:15," the receptionist said, at 11:20. I told her that was ok since I was already in the parking lot. So, I pretty much got right in, pills still in the death grip.

"You know I can't let you leave." he said. From there, I went, by ambulance, to Deaconess ER. They said I was to be admitted to St. Anthony, but had to have a ride. So, I called the Hubby, who hadn't heard from me in a long time and was about sick.

I was inpatient in St Anthony for 4 days.

I talk more later, there's a thunderstorm coming.

I'm Back!!

From going around the bend!

And let me tell ya, the psych ward is a trip!

I'd tell ya now, but my boys need to go potty.

Breaking News

My Aunt (pronounced ain't) Ninny has died.

She was born August of 1924, to my Great Grandma, Virginia Pendergrass, and she was also named Virginia.

Mama was born October 11, 1924, to Grandma's Daughter, Ben. Since Grandma Ben was 15 at time, Mama was raised by Grandma, who she always called Mama. They were raised as twin sisters. Even though the only thing that made them look alike was their brunette hair, they were often confused (I could never figure that out). Mama would say they would ask her, "Are you you, or are you your sister?" To which Mama would reply, "I'm me!" (At this point, I'm thinking to myself, "Are the people you grew up with STUPID?")

Mama always called Virginia "Ninny". She said Aunt Ninny tried to get her to stop when they were in high school, but you can see how that worked.

Her life has never been easy: miscarriages, worthless-ass abusive, drunk husband, a daughter who died of ovarian cancer at 24, but she was always a survivor. And she always had a smart mouth.

She deserves her rest.

Spewing...Again

But, since I have no readers (or, if readers, no commenters), nobody to tell me "Just shut the fuck up!!"

The Hubby has now found out how overdrawn we are (but over half are bank fees - crooked-ass banks!), and demanded the checkbook and my debit card.

Now, it's like I'm split in two: the depressed half, who blames everything (including the weather) on herself, wants to die (Plan A is in my purse right now - and, no, it's not some messy-ass gun); and the angry half who says it's not (all) my fault. In fact, my angry half says, I'd lay the blame at the Hubby and the M-in-L's feet. I understand (well, as much as I can) that the Hubby isn't ever going to be pain free, his condition deteriorating as time goes by, so I understand him keeping himself busy with hobbies (guns, cars, motorcycles). Why do I have to be the one to tell him "NO, you shouldn't buy whatever now." He's an adult, can't he show some self-restraint? I know I'm nowhere near perfect, but at least my phobia (or it might be a superstition) of spending money on myself (bad things happen), kind of keeps me from crazy spending(kind of).

I just wish I could be Angry Grrl, or a variation, at home, but there I'm Weepy Wanda. Afraid of everything, taking the blame for everything, no life, no future.

Well, the Hubby is probably going to learn how horribly overdrawn I am today. One look at the checkbook (I put no numbers in, if they're negative), and he starts yelling at me. I know he'll ask his mom (who works at the bank) what's going on, and learn I'm almost 400.00 in the hole. And still over half are stupid-ass bank fees. And if the Hubby didn't get his latest gun we'd be ok. And yet it's still all my fault.

Jesus Christ!!! It's like I don't want to live anymore, but I don't want to die!

"...Am Not Dead."

I finally heard from my son!! He says he dialed wrong and the phone ate his change and he had to keep moving. WHEW!! What a load off my mind.

He sounds either homesick or lonely, because he's asking for lots of letters, from family and 6 (yes, 6!) girl friends.

Being Spun

I've calmed down muchly. I'm still in the hole for almost 300.00 (and 162.00 of that are fees), but so are alot of my coworkers. And, yeah, this is really personal shit, but it has to come out. And you've got to think about the Katrina evacuees, who, like me, lived paycheck to paycheck, praying for payday when their account would be made whole (at least temporarily). Will their banks understand? I'm pretty sure the banks will be up and running before the evacuees. Will they be understanding (most likely in a "Noblesse Oblige" kind of way)? And can somebody tell me why it's ok to pay slave wages for rebuilding the Gulf Coast when the companies are probably going to make money hand over fist (in an Iraq kind of way)? And pollution should never be ok! And if I here one more thing from the Hubby and family about the poor president and it's not his fault and it's all the fault of the Mayor and the Governor - I'm just going to scream!

It makes me remember how seamless it was after the May 3rd, 1999 tornadoes. The little town of Mulhall, in Logan County north of Guthrie was pretty much wiped of the map. FEMA swept in and before you knew it the families were in temporary housing, the school was being rebuilt, and permanent houses soon followed. I know you really can't compare tornadoes to hurricanes, but you can compare the two different administrations reactions. There was the Big Dog, the last real president we had, President Clinton, it was like the day after - trash and debris everywhere (he toured Spiva Drive in Del City almost directly across from Tinker AFB - at the time I had an Aunt and a Niece who lived there) hugging and talking to real people, letting them break down and cry. It wasn't like a photo op, it wasn't manufactured, it wasn't spun.

Oh, and speaking of spinning, I am now working for somebody else, even though my job, job title, pay (so they say), location haven't changed. This change I'm not sure of. Three and a half years ago I started with one big conglomero - was spun off to one of their subsidiaries - who has now spun us off to something else - I'm not in the big conglomero at all, but they're my client!(?)

I'm Having a HUGE Anxiety Attack!!

And this is supposed to be a vacation. I didn't go anywhere, but I should be happy not to be at work.

Instead, I keep wishing I just went ahead and had a heart attack or stroke, so I didn't have to worry so much.

I'm overdrawn (waaay over), with no money coming in for a week (yes! a week!).

Damn!!

"Recruit McNey Reporting for Duty"

First he happened to say it to another recruit, so he had to start over.

"Recruit McNey reporting for duty," and he saluted smartly. "Permission to board?"
And so it has started. He doesn't actually leave until tomorrow. He has a drug test to do, and some paperwork.

Sigh.

And I bawled.

As cool as I was with his decision, I wasn't ready. Look at me, I'm about to cry now.

I've been needing to write for a while now, but what do you say? Being in the travel industry, I think the airlines could be doing more, but as they're a big money pit, they probably think they're bleeding money as it is. Hey, how 'bout you not pay your CEO's megamillions? Case in point, (and yes, I get the willies about blogging about work) a woman had purchased tickets to go to her dad's birthday (a big one, like 80), from New Orleans to wherever. The airline would either let her reissue without the fee (but would still have to pay the difference in fare to change the outbound city) or refund the whole thing. The passenger wanted to use the tickets, but didn't have the money to change, so is getting the refund. Can I repeat that? SHE WANTED TO USE THE TICKETS. Go to the airlines web page and read their arcane hurricane rules.

Less than a week to go. Really not sure if it's Monday or Tuesday. Still would like to see him off at the airport, or bus station (which in OKC, is not a great place to hang around), but I don't think that's possible. Still haven't planned any going away thing. I am SO not good at that (well, I am Ms. Not Together). I told Jimmy my sister (Ms. Together) asked if I was having a going away party. He said, "Are you happy I'm going away?" As always, Mr. Sarcasm.
"NOOOO!" I don't remember what else I said, except: "I don't know what to have. Ice Cream and cake were suggested."
"I like cake," Jimmy answered.

Who doesn't.

I've also kind of decided that recruiters need to make sure the recruit's mother isn't in or near PMS on the entry date. That's....part of my problem. And...it still seems like forever to me. He's such a great kid...guy. I'm really proud of him.

I've decided I'm as bleeding heart liberal as they come. Even if I have noone to talk/bitch to about our incompetent government. Katrina is another thing I can't discuss with the Hubby. And I'm not real sure about my family, either. I'm...different. But, I'll tell ya, I'd rather have a bleeding heart and want to try to help everyone, than a heart of stone that only softens to seven figures. I have never seen such callousness. They put Nixon to shame. There he is, (if there is a God) standing in Hell, weeping with joy.

If anybody reads this, I need someone to talk to.

A Couple Things...

I need to post about.

Friday my niece got remarried at the rose garden in Will Rogers Park. It was hotter'n hell, but otherwise a dream: a beautiful bride, a handsome groom, her brother-in-law officiating.

It almost makes you optimistic about society when you see two people so much in love, and the two families celebrating that love.

Two weeks now. Two weeks until Jimmy goes in. I need Monday off now - I'm not sure how that'll go. I don't think the day is available for vacation, so I'll have to ask the ONE (yes, only one) person who has Monday off in my department to trade. It's just so close.

The hubby has suggested that instead going to Graduation at Great Lakes in November, have a longer vacation during a liberty at wherever-the-hell he is next. I guess I can see his point. I'd only have the one day with him in Chicago, whereas later can be a longer time. But, damn, I don't get to go anywhere! This isn't over yet.

Notes on the Weekend

Me and the Hubby visited with Jimmy's recruiter while we were doing our running around Thursday. Because Jimmy tells us nothing (which makes my mother in heaven laugh-but with me, not at me). They've been making him exercise, so basics won't be such a shock. They've been wanting to see him as often as possible, but I guess the only phone numbers they had were home and his work, Braum's in Guthrie. Yes, I was bad, I gave him Jimmy's cel phone number. Having never dealt with recruiters, they seem to sincerely want him to succeed. He's also supposed to be reading the crapola in a little booklet, but he hasn't. But he always was a last minute assignment worker. Geez, can time slow down?! Can it be only 2 weeks away?

News Break

This is major. W is tanking in Oklahoma!!

You know, I read a lot of blogs. Most of them write off Oklahoma as full of mindless automatons (or my favorite analogy, the Borg), accepting as gospel whatever trash repubbbs spew. And while there are many, many of the already assimilated that fit that description, it doesn't really begin to describe the actual diversity of OK.

This makes me feel a little better

Via Altercation.

I don't usually do political commentary, mostly because I don't consider myself smart enough to do it right. I still hold with Socrates statement: The only thing I know is I know nothing. But I'm willing to learn.

But here's something I have to comment on.

Pope Decries 'Cruel Fanaticism' of Terrorists
from channeloklahoma.com

And also this:

Pope Seeks Immunity in Texas Abuse case
From americablog

I am SO not a religious person, and, in fact, think religion is what's wrong with the world right now. But this popped into my mind (and yes, I had to google to find it):
Luke 6
41 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but perceivest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

Jimmy's last day at work was Thursday. In what seems highly ironic to me, since Jimmy worked at the Guthrie Braum's just over a year, the manager ordered pizza from the Pizza Hut around the corner. Jimmy told me he requested Hawaiian style (ham and pineapple) because, a. he likes it, and b. is almost guaranteed to have some left over for him to take home. Smart kid. I had never had Hawaiian before, it was pretty good. He flew down to his Dad's for the weekend. I don't really understand why he doesn't stay for awhile. But I guess "ours is not to reason why".

Also this week, his car was tagged. "My Dream Guy" on the back window, and I (heart) U on the driver's side rear window. The Hubby asked him about it, and he said he did it himself (right). On the way to the airport he admitted it was a girl, who has left for college, and gave him her phone number (!). I told him girls who give their phone numbers generally want to be called.
"Yeah. I don't know how that works," was his reply.
"I can't tell ya. I tended to marry the guys I dated," I said.
Two shy people - the blind leading the blind.

Time is rushing on. September will be here in no time. SLOOOOW DOOOOWN.
After basic and his additional training, Jimmy says he thinks he'd like to be in Seattle. The weather's cool and rainy and also because of the music scene.

SIGH.

I Survived!

The attack of Worm!!

It hit my work sometime between 2:00 and 2:30 pm CDT. At first, I told people to call back in about an hour, then two. Then we learned it was actually a BIG DEAL, was nationwide, we told people unless it was an emergency to call back tomorrow. And I read my book, Guns , Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond. Still a slow go, but very interesting. The system still wasn't up when I left at 6:30pm. But I have definately decided, well, when I have money, I'm getting a Mac.

Nothing really going on on the home front. The dog alarm still goes off between 5:00 - 5:30am, only occasionally can I ignore it - until about 6:00. Otherwise, still tired, still depressed, still think something's not right with me (if not really wrong). But I'm of two minds about whether I should go to the doctor, part says yes, part says no (and then gets to tell the Hubby and the doctor, "I told you so!" when something bad DOES happen). Right now I'm leaning toward no, since we're low on cash, and it seems like such a waste of money.

And we're down to the last 4 weeks, roughly, before Jimmy goes in. Through the M-in-L, I learned it's September 13, not the 15. And as much as I was the one who said Jimmy should go to college outside of both Oklahoma and Texas, I am SO NOT dealing well with this. It's embarassing. I've never been the clingy mom. But there's a little voice inside, telling me in a month he's going to be gone FOREVER. NO. Not dealing well.

But I am looking forward to going to Chicago sometime in November.

Finished HP6...

Again.

Dumbledore knew Malfoy was supposed to kill him. Harry told him about the unbreakable vow Snape took. So he knew he was going to die. That's why he was taking so many chances on teaching Harry about Tom Riddle/Voltemort. And that potion could have been a slow acting poison.

I've just barely started Guns, Germs and Steel. Jimmy's right, it's a slow go. I'm going to slog through it somehow.

One month from tomorrow.

Hi-Freakin'-Larious

TBoggs take on conservatives.

It's too early in the morning to be busting a gut.

I got tired of my old template. I need to reattach my blogroll, but that'll be later, since it's another thing blocked at work.

I think this one, while plain, is still upbeat. And anything that makes me happy, or at least smile, is a GOOD THING.

Adventures in Blood Letting

Today was the blood drive. I always attempt donation. Well, when it's the Oklahoma Blood Institute, which has a knowledgeable, caring staff, great, quality t-shirts and excellent snacks. I will never give blood with the Red Cross again (they hurt me, and have flimsy t-shirts, and no snacks, and did I mention THEY HURT ME).

I've had occasions, in my blood-giving adult life, where I couldn't donate. Mostly because of low iron (which is what the icky finger-stick is for - they put a drop into a vial containing blue liquid and if it floats - low iron - no go). But today, before I even got to the icky finger-stick part, I had to have my tempurature taken three times! The first time was 100.0 (which kind of alarmed me because I feel fine) and a no-go. The second was 99.6, one tenth off. Then I went and got a drink of water, and then had to wait a bit because I did get a drink of water - 99.4 and acceptable. After that, it was pretty routine. Although I did have to wait for the blood pressure cuff, they had only brought one in the Blood-mobile. The tourniquet wasn't doing it for my finicky veins. Got to watch most of that King Arthur movie, where Arthur is a Roman soldier. Pretty good.

Of course the best thing is being off the phone for almost 2 hours!

Worth it's weight in blood.

Me and the Hubby spent the weekend thinking about what we would do if I had sold my mineral rights (Hah! right!) for the offered $312,000. Pay off the house we said. Buy me a new car. Buy the Hubby the Quigley rifle replica and travel to Montana to pick it up. It was nice to imagine for a bit being Jed Clampett. Of course, I'm not going to sell my mineral rights. I can almost hear Daddy telling me, "You better not!!"

But I am painfully ignorant of oil/gas lease/royalty...stuff. I've printed a pamphlet from the National Association of Royalty Owners on oil and gas leasing that's been helpful. But I still haven't found an answer to my question "Do royalties actually amount to anything?" Which is, right now, a counting-chickens-before-they're-hatched type of question. But if there's some schmo willing to pay me serious coin for my rights, royalties must amount to some serious coin, right?

Oh, I finished HP5, and have started HP6, but I'm not sure I'll finish. I might go on to Guns, Germs and Steel. It's still hard to think of Snape as all bad, and that Dumbledore was a fool for believing his lies. Snape may be more accomplished at what's-it-called, Occlumency, than Dumbledore. But there's something missing. And I won't learn for 2 years what!! Crap!!

Well, My ability to blog at work is back, but I can't see my Haloscan comments.

And I have now finished HP5, but left both HP6 and Guns, Germs and Steel at home. Jimmy wasn't actually finished with it, he said it was too slow a go (which doesn't bode well for the book). Know having read the whole of Harry Potter again, I still think Snape isn't bad. There's just something that hasn't been told yet. And the thought I have to wait for TWO WHOLE YEARS (at least), AAARRRGGGHH!!

In The Words of the Immortal -

Popeye...

I've had all I can stands, I can't stands nomore!!

I've been blocked from blogging at work. One of the few things that kept my head on straight (even though it bugs the crap out of me that I have so few readers).

There are things I don't do.

• I don't download crap onto my work computer (well, didn't. Well, except for the Naveen Andrews background).
• I don't do anything while I'm on the phone.
• I don't blog much about my job, I don't identify my employer.

You know, I know it's their right, but it's my sanity.

Well, damn, thunder, got to go.

I Feel Better Today

Well, a little better.

I've kind of decided that it's better to just go ahead and get up when Cooter starts to lick and nibble, than expend the energy to avoid him.

OH, and I've finished HP4 and have started 5.

I'm Crashing Today

BIG.

For no discernable reason.

Lazy Sunday

I'm still into HP4. Taking a break from it.

I think I'm not going to leave anybody comments anymore. The reasons?
Let's see:

1. I'm prone to serious depression.
2. I have no self-esteem.
3. I have little self-confidence.

I have to say I'm not completely untalented, I know people who can talk all day long, but can't put two words together in writing. Yeah, I can write forever, but basically about myself and the things around me. And my life is boring. I just end up feeling SO STUPID!

How can I say my 5 or 6 stories that cycle in my head are any good? Just because I like them doesn't make them good. I may not be exactly stupid, but I'm certainly not smart.

You know, as a fat, shy, ugly kid, all I wanted was to belong. Because I didn't. All I wanted to be when I grew up was RICH AND FAMOUS. I guess that's why I always loved the odd times we picked Mama up at the Black Hotel. Everybody knew me and said hello to me.

I always felt like I was meant for something, that I was special. But I'm nothing. I'm nobody. And, yeah, knowing that kind of hurts.

Well, I'm going back to lose my self in HP4.

It's a workday Saturday. Hopefully not busy.

HP-wise, I've now finished 3 and am on 4. I'm still not convinced Snape is all bad. Jimmy's reading Guns, Germs and Steel - and evidently it's a slow read, it's been, like, a week and he hasn't finished it yet. I'll read it next.

And I have informed both the Hubby and Jimmy that I am not in their little war. I've also informed the Hubby that I think he's being to hard on Jimmy. His room isn't messy, and his closet is mostly still moving boxes full of old toys (and if you don't like it, don't look in it). I've told the Hubby that this is what normal kids go through at the 14-16 range (when Jimmy was busy being an honor student). And, if you think about it, The Hubby ought to be glad he's having such a hard time with Jimmy. It means, well, to me at least, Jimmy has fatherish feelings towards The Hubby, that he cares enough to rebel against. Does that make sense to anybody but me?

Oh, and the dog alarm has been going off between 5:00am and 5:30am. Bubba's woofs I can ignore, but Cooter licks and nibbles, first me then The Hubby.

The Hubby's getting a new engine put in his '95 Tahoe to match the new transmission put in early in the year. The new engine and transmission are still way cheaper than buying a new car. So I have now pinned the Hubby down as driving to Chicago in November. YAY!! I love to travel!!

I just don't get to do it much.

I finished 2, have started 3.

I'm still slightly blue. I'm at work, grudgingly. But I don't want to be at home either. The Hubby had a big giant fight with Jimmy. Same old stuff, messy room (I don't think so), messy car that he doesn't take care of, except this time he added about not sended thank you cards. I had called home at lunch, the Hubby didn't sound like he felt well (chest pains and the like), so I asked him what was wrong and he told me of the fight. And, again, that he's going to kick Jimmy out. Then he went on to add that nobody does anything unless he tells them to. I got angry (because I was included in his list) and hung up.

I hate my life. I'm not sure I want to be in it anymore.

I did get an odd letter yesterday. Some nobody oil company wants to buy my mineral rights for $650.00 an acre. I was shocked. It makes me think I'll actually get royalties some day. But to me the oil lease money was nice, and I did get a nice house and got to live like I wanted to for, like, 2-3 months, but I never expected to get anything else out of it.

more later.

Now To Do What I Do Best...

Obsess about myself.

Now that I'm working the 4-day, 10-hour shift, my days off are Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I have no excuse to miss going to the M-in-L for breakfast and to read the paper. The hubby's brother and his wife (aka Mr. and Mrs. Know it all - Mrs. K-it-A just happens to be the Hubby's ex) are usually there - hogging the paper, and talking about how important they are, making me wish I was at work.

Mrs. K-it-A asks me when Jimmy goes in. I tell her the middle of September.
"Well, that's a long time!" she says.
Mr. K-it-A chuckles and says, "Not really!"

So why did that bother me? To me September feels like tomorrow. And then my son's going to be gone forever, and I'm the only one who cares.

I realize that's probably irrational (such is my life), but I can't seem to shake it. And I was always the one who wanted him to go to college outside of the OK-TX area, so he could be his own man. What the hell is wrong with me?! If he's strong, pretty level headed and has a wide independent (or stubborn) streak, doesn't that mean I did SOMETHING right?!

I just can't shake it. It gets tied up in the memories of visiting Grandmother (Daddy's Mom), Sundays in Clinton, OK - less than once a month. Except now it's going to be me.

Again I ask: What the HELL is wrong with me?!!

Well, I finished The Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon. It is really good, but left me thinking about the character Sammy Clay.

But...but...but... What about Sammy?

It was one of those books, I could really get into the characters. But the ending left me feeling, "And then what?" I almost couldn't finish it (a la Wicked), but I forced myself.

I need to see if Jimmy has anymore books I haven't read, until then I've decided to cycle through the HP books again (I'm on book 2 now).

Some Thoughts on HP and the H-B P

Because my son won't discuss it with me!

SPOILER ALERT!!

Yes, Dumbledore is dead. He portrait is now hanging in the Headmaster's (mistresses?) office. The question is did he know he was going to be offed, and by who? Is that why he was taking so many risks, he knew he had to get as much done in as quick a time as possible? As much as I dislike Snape, I can't believe he's all bad. I mean, yeah, he's not all good, but the book's reasons for being bad - just didn't jibe with me. Yes, Dumbledore looked for the good in everybody, but he wasn't a patsy. This was a set up for both HP and Draco, IMHO.

I've read on other sites that HP is the last horcrux, yes I see that as a good possibility, but I don't want to think of HP sacrificing himself (after all, my son looks just like him, san scar). I can see him on in adulthood, married to Ginny (who'll be going with HP, Ron, and Hermione, hopefully along with Neville and Luna), with his children (Lily, James, Sirius - and one other) around him asking him to tell them the story of....(yet another time).

About the fake horcrux, and the initials R.A.B., I was thinking it was Regulus Black. But then I read somebody, who, rightly so, stated how could Kreacher then be controlled by HP? What if, I say, Regulus is also an unregistered animagus? Say - Crookshanks? I'd like it to be that. I'd like to hear other opinions (but geez, I only have, like, 4 readers).

I'm ready for the next one!!

D'OH!! Another two years!!

Sigh.

Oh, well, back to The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

I Just Finished!!

And OH MY GOD!!

This isn't a book to read at work. Especially at a call center.

I Got Mine! Did You Get Yours?

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, that is. My son picked mine up after he got off work, technically this morning. He's reading it now. I just finished If Chins Could Kill, Bruce Campbell's autobiography, and can start on The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon, while he finishes.

I'm at work today, having an emense anxiety attack. The (maybe, maybe not) irrational fear of being fired is kicking my ass today. And no, I don't like my job anymore, but everything is on my shoulders. And it bugs me. As the day goes by, I'm feeling a little better. The shooting pain in my neck is gone.

And yeah, I know I'm being selfish, and childish.

Warning! The Below May Be PMS!

I've decided that I'm sick. I'm sick of living. I'm sick of being such a drudge. I hate my job. I still think I'm going to be fired. Yes, I know that may or may not be irrational.

Yeah, I know how damn blessed I should feel. I'm heathy, I have a wonderful son, and on and on. I know all of that shit.

I just don't want to live like this anymore.

No! I don't want to kill myself! I just don't really want to be alive.

Because I'm not alive. I'm some friggin' zombie. I live from paycheck to paycheck. I don't get to travel (but I have all those benefits!! yeah, right.). I could go to movies (because I don't have to have the Hubby around for that), but that gets into my irrational fear of spending money on myself. So I read, and read, and read. And if I could read for a living how great would that be! Wouldn't it be great to work in a book store (and still make what I am now, and have decent health benefits)! Or do Audra's role (the young intern on Rick and Brad on the KATT), I'm not sure I could be a DJ. Or work at a decent newspaper (not a whole lot of them in OK).

I kind of envy those depressives that can just sleep, and that's all they can do. Just let life go and sleep.

Not me.

OH, as an aside, I finished Sophie's World, I've started If Chins Could Kill, and am looking forward to Harry Potter on Saturday. Like I said, if I could read for a living, I would.

Feeling crappy today, like I have a rock in my stomach.

If I could go home, I would.

I wish it were closer to Friday.

Having kind of a crappy day. Learned I am way overdrawn. Thanks to my car payment and spending without discipline. Thankfully, we're getting a loan to replace the engine in the Tahoe, plus some to pay off the M-in-L, so once it's in the checking account everything will be pretty cool until I get paid (Friday).

Why can't I just say no?

Well, still reading Sophie's World A Novel About the History of Philosophy by Jostein Gaarder. The history of philosophy part is really interesting, the novel part so-so. Looking forward to this weekend and Harry Potter (which has been purchased since May 5).

Well, I'm going to have to agree with Socretes, the only thing I know, is that I know nothing.

Two Things About Oklahoma

This editorial in the NY Times (requires registration) about the hoo-hah at the Tulsa Zoo.

But before I can say, "makes me glad I'm an OKC girl," there's this in today's Daily disappointment:

Tribe seeks Bricktown casino
By Tony Thornton
The Oklahoman
An American Indian tribe wants to build a casino in downtown Oklahoma City or Bricktown, a move that Mayor Mick Cornett says he opposes but may be unable to stop.

This is the same city who swore to us that, if we throw money at Bass Pro, it'll bring sooo many people, and their tax dollars to Bricktown!! I've heard, from a very unreliable source, that Bass Pro isn't doing that well. It seems to me Harkins, the movie theater in Bricktown, would bring way more people to Bricktown. Oh, and they didn't have city money and perks thrown at them.

Maybe it's the heathen in me, but I think an Indian casino in Bricktown is a great idea! It seems so perfect, you can make it either westerned themed or prohibition themed.

Holy Crap!

I've been published! Ok, it's a response to yesterday's Altercation at msnbc.com, and under the real name, not the pseudonym. I can't breathe!

Both me and the Hubby got paid last Friday, and by the time I get paid again we'll be so far in the hole it's not funny. And I know it's my fault. I know I'm where the buck stops. It's just so difficult for me to say "no". "No, we can't afford it." It's easy for me to do without, I have irrational fears of spending money (bad things happen when I spend money on myself). But I guess I'm gonna have to come down hard. Sorry, my "inner counselor" is clucking at me: You aren't responsible for the Hubby's happiness. No, but I can't sit back and let him drown in sorrow and self-pity, either. Been there, done that, have the bills I can't pay.

On background, the Hubby has ankylosing spondylitis (or d.i.s.h. - diffuse ideopathic skeletal hypertosis), a form of arthritis that's fused his spine together. It's also spread to his shoulders, hips, and knees. He's in pain all the time. The less he moves, the less able he is to move. So I want him occupied and active. The more occupied and active he is, the less he'll dwell on the craphole his life seems to be (to him, at least). To me, he's still the big hunky guy I married, with alot to offer. He's just ... stiff.

Hey! Read This!

This here. It's almost scary how relevant it is even today.

Purchased and finished The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Intruiging. I liked it.

I'm reading another one of Jimmy's books, Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder. I just started it yesterday, so right now it's a little slow. And behind it will be the autobiography of Bruce Campbell, If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor. I'm not sure why he bought this one (something about him not realizing it's an autobiography). But, with that big, beautiful picture on the cover, I couldn't resist.

Like the last few years, the evening of July Fourth was spent at the Grandmother of one of Jason's (the Hubby's son) friends. And I know almost noone. I know some of the kids (well they're in the 22-23 or so year range), the Hubby, and the M-in-L. I was kind of freaked out. There was tons of food, including 3 kinds of homemade ice cream. And the beer flowed like water. And they spent hundreds (if not a thousand) of dollars on fireworks. Some of the guys, who, I guess, thought they were good looking, went shirtless - and even the thinnest was developing a beer gut (Hello! not sexy!). And, yes, I know I'm talking about guys I've known since they were in 6th grade. Mentally, they haven't changed much. Most have girlfriends or wives, but I'm not sure why. Well, I only see them all together like that once a year, and then they're falling down drunk, and playing with explosives. And I realized, that if the people were changed to my co-workers and my family, also falling down drunk and playing with explosives, I wouldn't be Miss Polly Prude, I'd be having fun, too (though I can't stand firecrackers myself, never could, the noise bothers me). So, I tried to keep myself from clucking my disapproval, and let them have fun.

I would like to think positively about the future, but hearing what our senators (dumb and dumber) are saying, and what our local tv news also, it just scares the shit out of me. What happened to our constitution? I'd like to say, "What's happened to civility and tolerance" also, but let's face it, civility was only a mask and tolerance has never existed.

I would love to shove civility and tolerance down the throat of every Christian trying to shove their particular version of God down mine.

We the people of the United States of America, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, ensure domestice traquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this constitution for the United State of America. (and a big thank you to School House Rock)


I'm just sayin'.

Oh, and the Borg can kiss my large, white, DEMOCRAT, ass.

The Hubby Has an Epiphany

"Did you know Jimmy's not mopey at work?!"

"Yeah, I knew that. He's only mopey at home."

"?!!"

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.

What The Hell...

...is wrong with me?

I was doing well- relatively happy. I've come to the realization that I hate my job, but what can I do? A call center is a call center is a call center, and I don't have nearly enough (any?) self-esteem to look for something new.

I'm both sad and anxious today. The last thing I want today is to hear from crappy-ass unhappy travelers. Hey, pity me, I don't get to travel at all! Today, I just feel like the rut I'm in is more like a chasm. Yeah, I'm being self-piteous and mopey, so sue me!
My (probably) irrational fears are taking hold:

That I'm going to be fired.
That I might secretly want to be fired.
The big, giant "What Now" if that were to happen (which feed into the self-esteem issues, and the absolute hatred of looking for a new job, which feeds into the self-esteem issues).
Because, being the breadwinner, everything is on me.

Now, I don't mind being the breadwinner, but the old fears from a few years back are still there - when I didn't have enough money for bills, and had to decide whether to pay them (and did I pray for a vicious, cold winter!) or live, when the Jeep was repossessed, the second one of a total of three in my life, (a fun car to drive, but a POS) and then the remainder of the loan garnished from my pay, and birthdays and Christmas were absolute hell.

And right now, I'm about half way through Wicked, but as down as I am, I don't know if I can finish it. Jimmy's reading Life of Pi now.

Ok, a couple of things.

I finished the Ultimate Hitchhikers Guide, and I'm gonna have to agree with my son that the ending kind of bites. It is the only possible ending that I could really see, but it did kind of bite.

Good book, though.

I made up a new blog to cross-post my stories. I named it Not Together Tales, and Parts One and Two are already there. I've started on Part Three, now that Graduation and Surgery craziness is over. Although there is one more tale of woe from the surgeon's office.

He told the Hubby that he wanted to see him by Friday to remove the staples and drainage thingy (very interesting, but gross). I called the office, oh like Tuesday, said I needed to make a followup appointment for the Hubby, and they said they would call me back.
DID THEY? NO!!
So I called again on Thursday, was told by the snippy-ass woman the earliest appointment I could get was 3:30 pm on Tuesday and I should have CALLED EARLIER. Maybe I should have went ahead and told her, "I did, you snippy-ass bitch! I called on Tuesday and nobody called me back!" But I'm just not that assertive yet.
And this all feeds back on that ONE thing I hate more than anything:

I HATE TO BE IGNORED!! (and, yes, I know that's fairly ironic for a shy introvert)

The Hubby's blood sugar starts out the day the day relatively low (under 200), but ends the day relatively high (around 300). It's a concern for both of us. The doctor's added Avandia (?) to the growing list of prescriptions. Maybe it takes a while.
Oh, and the Hubby is trying to move around more, but he tends to overdo it, and ends up being wiped out.

Oh, and this (NY Times requires registration - ick) is why I don't mind my son's joining the Navy. I do feel a draft, and it's chilling me to the bone.

Part Three

The first thing K noticed when he woke up was his throat was sore. Then it was his stomach. Then it was the slow realization he wasn't at home. The blinds were closed and the lights dimmed, so K was sure it was night, but wasn't sure which one. He lifted his left hand to rub his eyes and noticed the IV.
"I hope they're giving me the good shit," he thought, paused and then thought, "right, probably not." He raised up on his elbows to look around. It was a small room, bathroom at the front, a sink beside it a little ways from his bed. Next to the bed was the most uncomfortable recliner he'd ever seen. His mother was in it, asleep. He flopped back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling, tears welling up in his eyes. He thought of the events of today (yesterday?). He looked again at his mother, shifting in the uncomfortable chair.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this!"
"How was it supposed to be, honey?" his mother asked. She sat up, folded in the footpad, and went to his bedside.
He didn't realize he had spoken aloud. Wordlessly, he sat up and sort of fell into his mother's arms, holding her tightly. Then the tears came. DJ held him close, stroked his hair and she cried with him.

In the Words of the Master....

Douglas Adams, in his book The Restaurant at the End of the Universe:

From Chapter 28 - To Summarize: it is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.


Genius! Just pure-D, sheer genius.

(My son purchased the Ultimate Hitchikers Guide and gave it to me when he finished. He went on to Wicked, which he's also now finished - so I'm kind of behind.)

Six Years Too Late

LONDON (Reuters) - Surgery to relieve chronic lower back pain is no better than intensive rehabilitation and nearly twice as expensive, researchers said Monday.

For my dad, that is. Paralyzed from the waist down the end of '99. I've said it before, hemophilia and back surgery DO NOT GO TOGETHER.

Too little, too late.

Updates

My kid graduated on Friday. The ornery shit didn't tell me he would lead the Pledge of Allegiance. It would have been better if I could HEAR HIM!! First of all, I had crappy seats, because I had to wait for my sister and her kids (she may be more together than I am, but she's always late. So I missed Jimmy coming in. But they did put up a big screen for the video of the ceremony. Then there were audio problems, Jason's friend, Tommy, works at the Lazy E afterward told me the music director did something to screw it up, it wasn't their fault. It finally got fixed, but by then the speeches were almost done (not necessarily a bad thing). So, noone heard him say, "Please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance." - and kept sitting and yakking. The faux Jumbo-tron catches him rolling his eyes. So, he repeats himself and we get through the pledge. And somebody please tell me why there has to be 12-15 Salutorians, and 12-15 Valadictorians - all that have to say something (boring) to say.

Since Jimmy was in the front row (Vice-President), I was basically ready to go as soon as they called his name. I took lots of pictures (regular, not digital), but I'm usually kind of shaky, so I don't know if they'll turn out.

My son, who never mentions friend one at home, has lots of friends, all of the guys, kind of, similar-looking to him. And he got hugged by no less than 5 girls (and an attempt by one guy), one of whom proclaimed herself his "future wife" (I got a picture of that one)!

UPDATE II: Oh, yeah, no I never did get that silly gown ironed. But, you know, in the end, it just didn't matter. What did matter was the beautiful smile that he doesn't wear often enough.

My husband had his surgery Friday morning. So, I blew off work Friday and Saturday. Of course the doctor tells me in pre-op, just as they're about to wheel Randy into surgery, to wait in the waiting room and he'll come out afterwards and tell me how it went.

Did he?

NO!! 4 hours I'm waiting! Reading the book I brought almost obsessively, so I wouldn't stop to think and worry. Finally, a nurse comes and gets me and the M-in-L, saying Randy's been asking for us - he'd been in the room for about an hour!

Have I yet to hear boo about Randy's hernia (which he called his "alien baby") repair?! Has the surgeon made one appearance this weekend?

Now we did tell the doctor on duty yesterday, and he said he'd look into it. At the time, I looked at Randy and said, "I don't want to get him into trouble." But the more I thought about it, the more the new, more assertive me said (to myself), "Hell yes I want him in trouble! He had me thinking the worst!" I may not actually, physically do it, but I want to kick his ass!

Oh, and to add to all of his previous problems, his blood sugar's been high. They're thinking Type-2 Diabetes. Yay! more pills. Can my husband NOT get anymore diseases or conditions? Please?!

Oh, one more thing, I'm thinking seriously of starting a new blog for my stories.

Buggers!!

Nobody's reading me anymore.

I really have to stew in my juices for a bit.

As I have said, my son is graduating Friday, at the Lazy E Arena (I doubt the Cantina will be open). And he's a fantastic kid, just great. I'm really proud of him. But what do I have to show for it?!

NOTHING! Well, other than the really great, fantastic kid. I don't have any bumper stickers crowing about him being on the Honor Roll - at Guthrie they're only in Junior High (7th & 8th), and he had like 1 B one time in 7th. He's not an Academic All-State, because he would fill out the form. And he's not getting the collar-thing that hangs down the back of the gown, because he's not in Honor Society this year - no community service.

And it's his fault! He decided to be a kid, and have a life, and have some fun for once in his life.

Well, I guess I DO have something to show for it, after all.

Entering Freak Out Mode

OK. The kid is graduating (!!) on friday. I have actually mailed out announcements (I know. It's amazing, isn't it?!). I woke up the kid early (since it's about the only time we're in the house at the same time), and asked him if he got his cap & gown out of it's little package.
"yeah, last week sometime" he said, kind of groggily (geez, I wonder why?).
"How is it for wrinkles?"
"It's not good" (or something to that effect).
So I got it out of the closet to look at. I saw all the perfect little creases where it was originally in it's teeny plastic package. The label says do not wash or dry clean. Geez, is it made out of paper?
"How do you get the wrinkles out?"
"Steam"

Damn! No 1., I'm not sure my iron survived the move. No 2., I'm not that good at ironing. I don't want to melt the silly thing. But this did kind of cue a flashback:

Flashback
After Jimmy's Kindergarten, I lost my little house in Midwest City, on Tinker Drive (but luckily didn't affect my credit). I went to live with my parents in Del City. Jimmy's first grade was at Del City Elementary. I decided, even though he would only be able to participate every other weekend, to put him in Tiger Cubs - a pre-Cub Scout, Boy Scout thing. You don't have a uniform, but you get iron-on tigers (for parent and cub).

So, there I am, holding my iron (purchased solely to help block knitted pieces - which I also didn't do well - iron, not knitting. I rock at knitting.), waiting for it heat up. Jimmy looks up at me, deep concern on his face and asks, "Mom, do you know how to iron?"
It was a legitimate question, seeing how he'd probably never seen me iron before.
I give him a kind of annoyed, "Yes, I know how to iron!" And ironed on the tigers with no problem.

/flashback

Holy Christ! What am I going to do? I don't even know where my iron (yes, a steam iron) is! Maybe someone at work has one of those steamer things, you know, that steam out wrinkles. It'll be Friday before I know it.

A little break from the story - yesterday's chapter took alot out of me - and it's not technically done yet.

The house is finished, except for skirting and front steps. The skirting was supposed to be put on Friday, but it rained. You talk about a red, muddy mess! A horror for my light gray carpet! And as for the front steps, it's just gonna have to wait a while - we're running low on funds.

My son graduates on friday at the Lazy E Arena. They're rebuilding Jelsma Stadium, downtown Guthrie, America, so right now it's a big hole in the ground. Surely I mailed out the invitations weeks ago! Right?! NO! I'm Ms. Not Together, remember! I'm just happy they're addressed and ready to go! I might go to the post office at lunch and get these mailed. Luckily I called my sister, who understands me, so she knows what's going on. Yesterday was the Baccalaureate, but I had to work. I was fretting, until I talked to Jimmy. He said he was blowing it off, since he had to be at work an hour later. Cool, I wasn't into the Jesus-y stuff anyway. The Hubby said Jimmy's dad came up on Sunday - I don't know if he went to it or not - weird work hours.

I spent, like, 5 hours in Edmond Memorial's emergency room this morning - from roughly 1:30 AM to 6:30AM. The Hubby was in excruciating abdominal pain. Now he's scheduled to see a surgeon tomorrow afternoon. To check on fixing a hernia popping up around the scar from his gallbladder operation 10 years ago. The scar goes from about the diaphram down to the belly button. With that and with his dad dying of pancreatic cancer, we didn't want to take chances. So after x-rays, cat scan, blood and urine analysis, and 2 pain shots, what did they find? Well, his blood sugar was high, 300, but aside from that? NOTHING! They said it was gas. GAS!! I'm sorry, maybe gas CAN cause excruciating abdominal pain, but I've never seen it. And I guess it's too true my husband could have been over-reacting, so used to constant pain. But I don't think so. Our doctor's (Jesse Ray's) slate was full, so I got him an appointment to see his PA. The hubby said he could go tomorrow, I said no, you're going today. He said ok. Maybe I'm over-reacting, too.

Jesus-God, I really don't have the patience for these pissy-ass people today!

And the day isn't even half over!

This Is Damn Hard, But Here's Part Two

They were her pills. She didn't even miss them. It was that little bit of insomnia when she changed to the swing shift. She couldn't wind down at the end of the day. She used them for a few days, but didn't like the zombie feeling, how hard it was to wake up.
"Why didn't I throw them away? I should have thrown them away? I didn't even notice them missing!" she thought to herself.
There were people all around her, sitting beside her, their arms around her shoulders, sitting in front of her, hands on her knees. They were talking to her. Saying...she didn't know what. Something sympathetic, something reassuring, probably. She wasn't listening, she wasn't there.

It had started as a normal day. K's car didn't wake her up when he left for school, so it was about 10 am when she got up. Once again she wished she knew what was going on in K's head. And again she wished he was five again. Before shit got in his head. He won't even talk to me anymore. I wouldn't understand, he says. I was the one who was pregnant at sixteen! I was the one kicked out of the house!

There was no coffee made and her cigarettes had been pilfered out of her purse (again). She called Bill to see if he wanted to go out for breakfast. She was semi-serious about Bill, and K seemed to like him. Of course, they only seemed to talk about his car - the '69 Camaro she lucked into a couple years ago. I looked like junk to her, but the mechanic (damn cute, by the way), who was selling it for an unpaid bill, said that the engine was still good and would be a good project. And it was Bea's money. How she doted on that boy. That mechanic was Bill, but he was slammed today and couldn't get away. Another reason her shift pissed her off, but it gave her weekends, real weekends.

So she decided just to go and get her cigarettes and coffee at the 7/11 down the street and then veg and catch up on the shows she has K tape for her.

A normal day.

Everybody knew not to call DJ at work. It was impossible to get to her, the message system was dubious, and her supervisor, Richard, was a prick. A college educated prick who wouldn't know how to do her job if his life depended on it, but that didn't stop him from telling her her mistakes. Everybody knew to leave a message on her cell phone.
The cubicles were octagonal, the eighth spot being open. They were arranged in four sets of four, sandwiched by the supervisors and helpers desks in the middle. Her cubby-mates were all older women, and she loved them dearly, but she would have preferred to sit by her best friends - Tasha and Ben. Richard tapped her on the shoulder and pressed the "after call" button on her phone pad, so she wouldn't get any more calls.
"You have an emergency call in operations." He said with a look of concern she'd never seen before.
Operations was the nerve center. They monitored the calls, and the agents, and measured the various statistics sent on up the food chain. A square room, mainframes on two walls , file cabinets on another, and a large window looking out on the call center floor on the last.
"hello?" Her anxiety level was rising.
"Mom? I'm sorry." It was K, his voiced cracked. He was crying.
"What do you mean - sorry?! What's wrong?!" DJ was trying to sound calm, but she felt hysteria creeping in. She pantomimed for a pen and paper to the ops agent.
"I've ruined your life. I'm just a freak, a pervert." He was starting to slur his words.
"You haven't done anything. You are a wonderful person. I love you, K!" In big letters, she writes "call 911" and "My son's killing himself" on the paper. The ops agent jumps to another phone.
"I love you, too, mom."
"Stay with me! Stay with me, honey!" and at the same time:
"I need your address!" the agent on the phone with the dispatcher whispers. DJ turns the paper over and writes her address and phone number.
"I'm really tired, mom. I think I'm gonna go to sleep."
"NO! No, honey, you need to stay with me!"
The ops agent hangs up and tells DJ they're sending an ambulance.
"'night, mom."
"NO, NO!" DJ screams, but K had already hung up the phone. "I've got to go!" She runs out to her desk to get her purse. Tasha had disconnected while DJ was in Ops, and was waiting for her.
What's going on, D?"
"I've got to GO! K's killing himself!" Why were they standing there? Tasha tells Richard she's going too, and tells D she's driving. DJ was grateful, she was in no state to drive home. Bill was waiting in the driveway. She rushes into his arms.
"What are you doing here?"
"K called me. Said some scary shit, like I'm supposed to take care of you. I knew he'd been moody lately, but Christ Almighty! The ambulance just left."
She calls Bea on the way to the hospital.

to be continued

Ok, Here Goes...

All she knew about raising children was from her parents, which was exactly opposite from how she wanted to raise her son. He was a mistake, a plain, D mistake. A mistake, according to her parents, she was going to hell for. A mistake, the guy she thought loved her said was her problem - and dropped her like a rock. A beautiful, blue eyed, dark fuzzy haired, 6 lb 10 oz, perfect mistake. Her mistake. And she was going to love Kelly Jo Wyatt forever.

Her parents had kicked her out, but she was not alone. Her best friend's mother had offered to take her in, but she decided to live with her Aunt Bea. Even though she lived not 10 miles away, she only got to see her on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Oh, the stories she could tell! The places she'd been! The black sheep of the family, how they had tried to show Bea the error of her ways. They didn't even know how she found out about Dot, but there she was, stepping in for Dot and took her back to her house. "Mistakes happen, Dorothy Jane. Like your name."
Dot laughed, "Yeah, call me DJ. Please."

Bea made DJ stay in school as long as possible, and found a program for pregnant teens. She helped her graduate high school, helped her find a job and daycare. And helped raise her son. Even though all her previous experience was getting the various nieces and nephews hyped on sugar, buying them loud toys and giving them back to the parents.

She ended up calling him KJ, after being ribbed about giving him a girl's name. As he grew from baby to toddler, he seemed perfectly normal, but something nagged at DJ. He loved his cars and his action figures, but he also loved Barbies and Cabbage Patch Kids. And he hated having his hair cut. Aunt Bea said there was nothing wrong, he was a normal boy. And she saw nothing wrong in giving him dolls, she wasn't about to give in to stereotypes.

DJ took the day off on K's first day of Kindergarten. He didn't like the clothes she made him wear, so he was kind of scowling in all the morning's pictures. She let him go ahead and ride the bus, it was such and adventure to him. She told him she would meet him when he came home and go for pizza.

Her stomach was doing flip-flops as the bus pulled up. Kids spilled out running everywhere, but she didn't see K. But there was this familar-looking little girl in pig tails and wearing a frilly pink dress and black maryjanes skipping merrily towards her.
"Oh my God! KJ Wyatt, where did you get those clothes?!"
"Traded. She wanted to go out and play, but her mommy said not to get her dress dirty. She said she hates dresses. I said I would take it, and we traded," KJ said, matter-of-factly.
"Oh, Mommy, look, look! The underwear matches!" he added enthusiastically, raising the dress to show the girls panties he was wearing.
DJ was at a complete loss for words. She wanted the ground to swallow her up. And she was sure she couldn't turn a deeper shade of red. Without saying a word, she picked K up and ran home.
She put him on the couch, and sat on the floor in front of him. She looked him in the eyes. The words came slowly.
"Don't you think I look pretty?" He asked
"You're beautiful, honey, but boys don't wear girls clothes." Please, don't ask why, she added to herself.
"But, why? I like this."
"I don't know why. That's just the way it is."
"Then, did I do something wrong?"
Well, that's the question, now isn't it - she thought to herself. All the options she saw ended up screwing him up. She decided on the path of least resistance, and hoped she was making the right choice.
"Well, K, you'll have to give these clothes back," she said, to immediate pouting, "but we'll go out and buy you some pretty clothes, but they only get worn at home - never at school. The other boys won't understand and will make fun of you."
This made sense to him, and he agreed. DJ just felt like she made a deal with the devil.

And she blamed herself.

You're Damn Straight!!

I am: -3% Republican.

"You're a damn Commie! Where's Tailgunner Joe when we need him?"

Are You A Republican? From Lean Left

God Damn!

You would think that with just about everything blocked all to hell at work (internet-wise), that the freakin' thing would run faster.

BUT NOOOO!!! If anything, it's actually slower! And blocking the internet doesn't keep us (me) from screwing off at work. You just have to do the analog version - reading a book (right now Angels & Demons by Dan Brown) or newspaper, doodling, or writing the old fashioned way. And God knows, it's actually better for both the company and me to just let me screw off a little. I am in the death-throes of job burnout. But since I'm the main provider - I'm stuck.

Oh, have now heard horror stories coming from the new Dell call center here in OKC. Reminds me of when I was at Hertz. People left to go to AOL, To Sprint, To Lucent, etc. It was supposed to be soooo much better. The grass is greener, people. A call center is a call center is a call center, ad infinitem.

Anyway, I had a really good session with my therapist Thursday evening. He had given me an article on assertiveness to read. About the different catagories: Passive, Passive-Agressive, Agressive, and Assertive. After reading the article I decided I'm more Passive at home, but Passive-Agressive at work (Who, Me? No, surely you don't mean me?!). And since my passivity at home is based on irrational fears, I have to work on an independent, assertive me. I have to stop all negative thoughts, and turn them into positive ones. When somebody says something negative to me - I tell them I'm not going to take that anymore.

Easily said, hard to do.

Also, since I'm not exactly the biggest risk-taker, as a depressed child I did nothing that I thought would embarrass me, and my parent were always there to pick up the pieces. So I have to take risks now. One thing I've been positively ordered to do - is to start getting the 5 rotating stories out of my head and onto paper. Going to college would be easier for me. The thought of having my stories on paper where anybody can see them, criticize them (me), just scares the hoo out of me. I'm going to try, heck, I have to try. One of my (possibly irrational) fears is, what if they suck? That I like my stories is pointless.

Oooooh, Scary!

I just don't want to talk anymore!

Thank god it's my Friday. My anger is just building and building. One call after another, endlessly.

And now, they've gone back to blocking almost everything, so I can't look at my email. I just don't know what I'd do if they blocked blogger. I'm close to a breaking point as it is.

And, you know, who made it okay for us peons to have to work ourselves to death? For crappy-ass pay, to boot?! Where is all this crowing about "family values" when we're having to do mandatory overtime? It's like I've said before, I'll give my work (grudgingly) their 8 hours, but after that, it's just not my time to give away. And why is it someone who makes 24 million (true) a year telling me how much I should work, how much pay I should be satisfied with (and how the company can't afford to give me more), how they can't afford my meager benefits, or incentives?!

Just kiss my large, white ass - I want to go home.

Ya Know....

I've decided I want a new kind of cruise control. My commute to work is 45-50 minutes, almost all interstate highway. I just want to set my car to drive the interstate portion so I can take a nap. You know, stay in one lane, stay a certain distance from the car ahead, stay a certain speed, those could be done without my input. Then when it gets close to something it can't do, it wakes me up and I take over.

I don't think that's so far fetched.

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