I want to MOVE

Away. From. Here.

I'm tired of MethLab Estates. I'm tired of dogs running loose.

Why? The proverbial straw?

Monday Morning. Of course Bubba starts moaning (mooing?) to go potty. I get up at around 5:30 am and take the dogs, Bubba, Cletus and Ziva out to potty and let out the cat, Whiskers (stupid name, but I got him about 10 years ago a year old and already named). Whiskers stays outside.

Sometime around or after 6:00 am I hear Whiskers screaming. I run outside but I don't see him right away. I DO see a medium sized dog, and I'm pretty sure it was the brindle pit bull from across the street running away. All of a sudden, Whiskers falls out of a tree. Not bleeding, but spitty and with obvious internal injuries. It looks like it's just a back leg. I think (hope) he'll recover. I'm sure he'll be ok.

But damn! My beloved Wickers!! Attacked in his own yard! MY OWN YARD!! And if I had gotten out there sooner, it could've been me! I called the sheriff (at the Hubby's insistence), but was told since we live outside of town and there's no law against loose dogs, and no county animal control there was nothing he could do. He did advise if we were threaten by any animal in our own yard -- shoot it.

So this is your warning. Your stupid-ass loose dog, the one you have no control over, the one not spade or neutered, the one without any vaccinations - comes into my yard again, threatening me and mine - it's DEAD!! YOU HEAR ME!!

Another reason I'm sick of not having money.

Life Lessons You Never Think You Have to Say

Don't go out without pants or shoes. Picking up the paper in your underwear is (well, gross enough) one thing, but getting groceries at the store is another. If someone needs to tell you to put on clothes before you go out, maybe you shouldn't go out.

Checking out customers on Monday, close to the end of my day. I get an older dude (my age or older), reminding me roughly of David Crosby. Wearing a long, dirty, white t-shirt. First I notice he's not wearing shoes (disgusting!), then (scanning up, I guess) I notice he's NOT WEARING PANTS!! This is one of those times where being quiet and introverted comes in handy. I finish checking him out, I give him his bags, I may have told him to have a good day.

Then I (quietly) freaked out. A Supervisor tried to tell me they were bike shorts. No Way!!! I know the difference. Thank God my day was almost over.

Needed to Vent

Today I feel kind of down. I know, it's kind of a same ol', same ol' sort of thing. It gets me thinking about the books I'd like to write, but probably won't because I'm not talented enough. Having the stories in your head just isn't enough.

I'd like to be able to pay off my car (hell, make a car payment even!). I'd like me and the Hubby to travel while he can still move (his orthopedic doctors say he needs both hips replaced and bone spurs scraped off his shoulders). I'd just like not to worry all the time. But the main things I worry about are the Hubby and Money. I keep thinking if we could just do things together, travel, whatever, then maybe that'll take his mind off his pain and his future. That requires money. I think I'll be able to make a car payment this week (I get paid), but I'm about 2 months behind and (possibly irrationally) freak out with every truck noise that passes.

It's like all I do is work. Work, go home, work, go home, work, go home, maybe get on the internet (which, also, isn't as much fun as it used to be), watch tv (no cable, no dish), sleep, repeat. It's killing me. This just doesn't feel like a life.

Thank you for letting me vent. Oh, who am I kidding?! Nobody reads this!

I Just Finished...

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I cried.

I cried and cried and cried.

OMG, what a GREAT book!!!

One More Thing You Should NOT Have to Say to Your Dog

Bubba!! Get your nose out of my butt!!

Once again, I'm at the point where I feel competent, alive and ready at work, but worthless and useless at home.

Geez, how I hate myself! I know, it's all I write about, but it kind of consumes me. I guess that's the way depression is.

You know depression is treatable?

Well, duh! You know I don't have either available money or health insurance?!

Right now, I don't feel there is really, REALLY a point to me being alive!!

First, Things You Shouldn't Have to Say to Your Dog:

Ziva! Put down that rabbit rearend!! (and yes, it was JUST the back half of the dearly departed bunny)

Second, I'd call it an update, but nothing's really changed:

I'm still working at Wally World, actually kind of like it (weird!), not looking for anything better, higher paying, more fulfilling, etc. I'm done.

Maybe someday I'll actually write one of my 5 or so stories.

The shot's Randy had in his shoulders are no longer working - though he can't have any more for another two months. They're suggesting, well I don't know what it's called, but it amounts to scraping the bone spurs off his shoulders. Oh, and now they've seen xrays of his hips, and are suggesting replacements (for both! but not at the same time). To stave off replacements he went to Mercy today and got steroid shots in both hips. We'll see if that does anything. He's still really down, feeling there's not much life to live. I don't blame him - constant pain, arthritis in every part of his skeleton. And not enough money to do things that might take his mind off of his pain.

My son is now on his ship, or at least at the base where his ship is. We had a good time while he was here. Although, I did learn he smokes. IKK!! Right now just very occasionally. But my mother smoked like a chimney and it eventually killed her, so NO, I don't like it. My wanting my son to be his own man, and not beholding to me or his dad, has come back to bite me on the rear. Oh well, hopefully he'll come to his senses soon enough. Other than that, he's a great guy! Took me out several times! Bought me stuff! Wow! just Wow!

Anyway, I think animals want to potty, so I'll be off. I can't be here often, but I'm not giving up.

I tanked at yet another interview, for a job that paid more money, but I wasn't sure I wanted anyway. But see, whether I wanted it or not isn't the point. The point is I suck at interviews. The point is I wanted to be the one to tell them "no".

I'm going to be at WalMart forever. And, yeah, I know that's not necessarily a bad thing. But I'm not going to have time or money to travel. My son's out on leave now, before going to his ship in Norfolk, VA. But it's actual duty station is in Japan. So, unless things change for the better, the month I have with him now, is going to be it for a long, long time.

Oh, the M-in-L took over the checkbook when I boogered it up (again). Sigh. That's me. An incompetent moron.
How did I get such a great son?

Cashiering at WalMart hasn't been that bad. I've almost gotten used to standing all day. I've got another interview coming up, also.

So I should be happy. So why aren't I? I'm so anxious I feel like I could explode. And sad, too. Not a suicidal depression, just a sort-of life-is-worthless-I-am-worthless kind of thing.

I think it's money. I still can't bring my utilities and car payment up to date. Well, no reason to rehash old problems.

I'm going to slow down on this for a while. Not that it really matters. Working's taking a lot of my time and the computer is unreliable. And I don't really have anything new to say.

But I do wish I mattered.

Gainfully, If Not Meaningfully, Employed

Yes, I am now in the ranks of the employed. I am a cashier-in-training at a Wal-mart. Hopefully I can get my bills caught up. I'd still rather win the lottery.

It seems odd to me that in my entire life, I've either gone sideways or backwards job-wise (I can't say I've ever had a career). I get to $12.75 an hour, and somehow my life needs a correction (divorce, depression, getting canned), and I have to start over. All those job interviews I went on, and all I had to do was go to walmart.com. Freaky.

In other news, my son has a really great post on religion over at his myspace space, but this computer at the library is stupid, and I couldn't copy the link - so go check out jimtheplatypus at myspace.

Also, my husband's arthritis has turned his shoulder into (what?!) crap. He's gotten yet another pain pill, and a referral to an orthopedic doctor. SIGH. I wish there was something I could do. I wish it wasn't his entire body. At this point, it seems like only death will ease his pain. That's just not fair.

Kinda Anticlimatic

I would like to do so much with this blog, but right now I'm so wrapped up in myself, it's hard to think straight. I'm still unemployed. I keep going on interviews that lead to nothing. It seems like the Hubby hates me now. He says suicide would be stupid, but then critizes what I do, or don't do. I can't change who I am. I tell him I can't change. He doesn't really give me an answer how it can be stupid when I'm pretty useless as is.

Whether I'm suicidal or not kind of depends on the hour. I don't feel like I'm worthwhile. Nobody needs me. Right now it seems like I could win the lottery just as easily as get a job.

Right now I'm writing because I need to write, not because I have anything to say (has that ever stopped me?). I've got so much in my head, but I can't seem to get much out of it.

I think alot about it (suicide, that is). How to do it. Where to do it. What kind of impact it would make (not much). Even down to funeral expenses (donate my body to science, and there won't be any). But even without suicide, I would prefer to leave my body to science. Funerals are creepy.

Right now, money-wise, I'm ok, my son has both sent me some money and brought my car payment up to date. He's a great kid. I'm taking credit for that.

Well, at the library, so off for now

...And Back Down, Again

No, I did not get the position that made me so incredibly happy. But, instead of just being turned down, they didn't fill the position. Yes, I crashed. Life is not worth living, wish I was dead, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I am back up to a not nearly happy, but not technically sad point of view.

Go to Cingular tomorrow. Since I've interviewed with them twice in the past, it doesn't bode well. They tend to ask inane questions I just can't answer. Oh well, one more (maybe two) iron in the fire before I give completely up.

Shout Out!

I had a really great interview today at the Physician Manpower Training Commision! I went in almost (ALMOST? right) panicking, and came out confident the job was mine. So, I have to give a SHOUT OUT to my interviewers, Michelle and Charlotte!! YOU GO, GIRLS!!!

God willing, I will either have won the lottery or be gainfully employed within the next 2 weeks!

See? This is me trying to turn my back on my giant-ass negative side.

Still Alive...

Oh, yeah, post number 397.

Haven't heard anything from the interview last week. Yeah, like I am. I've heard from some insurance benefits call center that may have a temporary Customer Svc position opening in June or July.

Sigh.

I think I need to talk to somebody. Because I don't want to work. No, no, no that's not quite true. I want to work on my own terms. Something that fits just me. Something where I can take off and travel (money willing). Something where I can be by the Hubby's side anytime he needs me, or I can go to doctors or therapists anytime I need to. Something fulfilling. Something I won't get sick of in six months, or make my skin crawl in a year, or do anything to disconnect (oh, like surfing the web at work when you're not supposed to, although everybody did it), no matter the cost. Kind of o-t, I've noticed my total cholesterol (God Bless the OBI!!) has gone down, still elevated though, since I got fired.

I'd still like to be someone like Erma Bombeck, newspaper columnist, used to be on Good Morning America - how cool would that be?! I could do it, too!! I know I can. I still say I could be the fat chick on the View. I could be a beacon for the fat, the depressed, the shy and the social phobics, the people without a voice who, on there own volition, fade into the background terrified of the outside world and the thought of interacting in it. Definately not easy, but I could do it. I ought to do it!

Sigh.

I just don't know how. You know, Good morning America or Dr. Phil could just come here, or call me, or email me and say, "Hey! How would you like to be on TV?!" (not unlike the ancient commercial: "Hey! How would you like a nice Hawaiian Punch?") SURE!!

I'd like to go back to college (though, geez, can we leave the math stuff alone?), but again, lack of money rears its ugly head. No, I won't do loans I can't pay off.

I mean, I don't necessarily want a degree (though, yeah, cool), I want to learn for the sake of learning. I want to look back and say, "Well, duh, I already knew that!" Because, sometimes, we have to be shown just what we're capable of.

No. 396 or Call Me a Melodramatist

Yeah, I'm still here. I still don't see a point to living. I still think I'm unemployable, and would rather win the lottery. But, for now at least, I have stepped back just a little from the brink of suicide.

I'm not going to apologize for what I wrote. It's what I felt at the time. No, sometimes this blog is all that's keeping me here. I don't have many friends, those I do have I don't want to bother with my problems. And even though they loom large in me, my problems are pretty minor in the scheme of things. So I write, well, spew it all out here. And I appreciate those who come back and read my drivel time after time.

I read this in yesterday's NY Times:
Washington
Proposals for Mental Health Parity Pit a Father’s Pragmatism Against a Son’s Passion
By ROBERT PEAR
Published: March 19, 2007
Two Kennedys are facing off over competing versions of legislation that would provide more generous benefits to people with mental illness.

I've been hospitalized once (an interesting 4 - maybe 5 - days back in the fall of 2005), and have been in outpatient programs twice (I prefer the ST Anthony's Share program to the Integris program - even though I prefered Integris' Dr. Chakraburty to the psychiatrists of ST Anthony's) and each time I've had to battle my insurance. Every time I've had to change my insurance, I've had to make sure I got the plan with the best mental health coverage, which still tended to be a joke. How many times I can see a therapist? Is the therapist/psychiatrist I'm already seeing covered? Are the meds they're giving me covered? Or what do I have to settle for? Will the med I had to settle for DO any damn thing for me? And why can't the copay be the same as my PCP?

So YAY!! YAY to the Kennedys!! I would prefer Kennedy fils plan to Kennedy pere's, but I'll accept either. But what am I saying?! I'm unemployed, uninsured, and SOL right now. What I wouldn't do for some Lexapro. And a job. But I'd prefer to win the lottery and not have to worry about any of that.

No. 395

I've been thinking about what to write for post no. 400. I've been thinking it should be a "State of My State" message. But I'm not sure I'm going to be around for it.

I have a handsome, wonderful husband, with a crappy, debilitating illness. He blames himself for our problems. You know, Man Stuff. Please.

I don't blame him. I put the blame squarely where it belongs: ME. I'm the one who got fired last year. I'm the one who can get to an interview, but not past it. I'm the one who either considers herself too good for a McJob, or more likely, so shy the thought of being around people makes her physically ill.

I just want to crawl into the ground and die. I may be missed but things would be better off without me. Without me the Hubby could get the cheap electric, phone and gas. Or his son could move in with him. I know the M-in-L wouldn't cry much. The only bad thing is my son would probably be devistated.

I want to feel like I make a difference in this world, but I don't. I am NOTHING! And all of our money woes are my fault. I have a job interview this week, one next week, but you know I won't get the job. I'm tired. I'm just sooo tired. I think I need to squirrel away some of the Hubby's generic Xanax. He shouldn't miss it. One ought to be prepared.

And for anybody suggesting that this is just my depression: Yeah, So What?!! Getting help for my depression is just another thing that costs money! Me being a leech!

God! I'm disgusting!

No. 394 or Waiting for 24

Two more state job interviews coming up. Two more chances to booger up the interviews.

Have seen no jobs in the paper that trip my trigger. I don't want a call center job anymore, they stress me out too much. I want a job that has actual sick leave - and the taking of which doesn't count as an absence. I'd prefer a job that I like, but I don't see that happening. I don't want to work at Wal-Mart, or any fast food place, or Magic Bait (down the road from me - makes stinky bait for fish). I know that sounds kind of stuck up. Shouldn't I be taking anything to be bringing in money, even if it breaks my will to live? Am I being selfish? Does that matter? People tell me I need to take care of myself. Shouldn't I have a job that reflects who I am? But what the hell is it?!

Anyway, need to shut off, 24's about to come on. Will Jack get out of the Russian Consulate? Is everybody in the consulate involved somehow? Will President Palmer wake up and tell his Veep to shove it? How is the ex-president guy's wife going to be involved? Will the arab dude with the nukes learn he's really just a patsy for the Russian dude? And how are they going to find the Arab dude and the Russian dude? And will it be before his drones take off?

Let's go see......

Post No. 393 - AKA Trying Not to Cry

Didn't get the OSBI job. But, curiously, I am getting a 2nd interview at the place I didn't think I was qualified. They mentioned software they use that I don't even know what it is!

Damn! I said I wouldn't cry!

What the hell is wrong with me?! Why can't I get a job?

No, no, no, no, no! Why can't I just go ahead and win the Powerball, so I don't have to worry about money. So I don't have to worry about the Hubby taking the ultimate pain relief. So I can be with him instead of being 40 miles away at some job I'll just get sick of within 6 months.

Money is just sooo worthless, and yet it's all I need.

Maybe I should just lay down and die, too. But, no I don't want to die. Like I've always told my son, Life is an adventure. Not always fun, not always easy, but always an adventure.

My adventure is just starting.

The Hubby and I went to a pain management guy off of May Ave. and 63rd St. yesterday. What a freakin' waste of time. 2 freakin' hours there! Making the Hubby move in ways he doesn't really move anymore, telling me to be quiet, only to be told he needs to see a rheumatologist and needs to do stretching exercises (for parts that don't move anymore)! Muscle pain and arthitis, now go away! Who the hell does he deal with?! Addicts?!! Now he feels even more suicidal than before! And as much as I hate to say it, I don't blame him. A pain guy tells him he can't help his pain?! Christ!

I'm still unemployed, haven't heard NO from the OSBI, but I think it's still too early in their hiring process (kind of a long, drawn out thing). And aside from that, I don't even want to look for a job! And I can't tell you why. Just a lazy bum I guess.

Still worried about losing my car, though I don't really know why.

Still riding the kiddie roller coaster of depression (and still envying the manic phase of Bi-Polar disorder). I really would like to be on Lexapro, or so. But that's not going to happen.

And this will make post no. 392. Eight more posts to #400!