Living on the edge

Unemployment is the most scariest thing ever. You think that maybe you can make it through but you can't especially when they screw you over on your severance. Sure 6 months but it's only 4 when you count the taxes and now you sit around and watch your bank account continually go negative and negative and negative and suddenly you get panicked and worried and you can't find a job because people will interview you but oh well, you know, you don't get the job.

Waiting for a check to arrive but damn it why can't it arrive sooner, I sent it in almost a month ago and and it's not even going to be there and now I have to sit and wonder when I can pay off my things again and when I can not worry about starving.

Hell in a handbasket that's where we're going.

Why we can't have nice things

The first thing I thought of when I heard this was that white people were trying to start a race war. Instead, people decided that it was a good idea to kill a bunch of cops.

We don't have just a gun problem in this country, we also have a problem with hate speech. The combination of the two breeds a particularly toxic stew.

This has got to stop. We can't keep killing each other. The othering of literally everyone but white American males needs to stop. Plenty of people were born here and they're not all white and why the motherfucking hell people can't just accept that angers me.

After Hurricane Katrina, I saw a message posted on a message board, presumably by a white person, who said "Now the country will know about the quality of our blacks". I wanted to say, "I'm sorry to shatter your illusions, sir, but the quality of white people isn't that great either, especially assholes like you." There has always been this type of culture in America and its poisonous, revolting, and vile and really needs to go.

As a patriotic American, I am appalled at the people who would steal liberty and freedom from other Americans and enjoy or justify it with glee. The problem with good guys with guns is is that the bad guys have them too, and nobody has a gun radar that goes off in the presence of a gun and tells you where it is or if a person is a good guy or a bad guy. Bullets don't care who the hell you are they just kill.

This is the flipside of stoking racial animosity toward anyone not white in order to get votes. Sure it gets you the votes, but how many votes are you really going to get when everyone's dead because we had to fight the Civil War all over again?

One Last Screw Before They Let Me Go

Every project, every stupid fucking project, I kept saying, "when it comes time for us to go, no amount of projects will save us".  And I was somewhat right - except for me.  Oh, it "saved" me - right into a job that I'd rather kill myself than take.  No, this isn't temporarily on the phones, and I honestly don't mind that.  So in effect, they hold my severance hostage because there's supposedly a "business need" of putting me in an area that I've very carefully chosen to avoid because I really don't want to do it.

I'm not knocking the CSRs - they're awesome people who are excellent at what they do.  But that's not something I want to do, even if I'm not given a choice.  I could use the severance money but how much is my soul and dignity worth?  Is that a fair trade?

I don't think so.  God, this is so horrible that I can't stop crying.

Happy Fucking Birthday To Me

The one thing I will miss, and will probably miss forever, is that Auntie Pillow would always take my dad and me out for our birthdays.  So many memories.  I miss the random lunches with her.  I miss going to festivals with her.  I think that this will be first year that I haven't thrown myself into so many projects that I don't have time to think so that now I have time to think.  And it's sad that I have to post this here because otherwise there will be excessive worry and it's kind of annoying because I like to share my thoughts but I always have to be guarded because then there will be excessive attention and I hate that much attention.  I'm okay, really, just let me get through it.  But I will so miss her and everything else, and right now I just wish I lived on an island alone and that I don't have feelings for people because apparently I can't manage my own feelings and I'll never be sensible about it and that really sucks because it would be nice to have friends that actually understand but sometimes that's a tall order, and I curse myself for believing people when they say that they take things seriously but then they don't, not really, not by any stretch of the imagination.  So I'll just have another margarita because tequila's been the only thing that's really ever been for me because there will never not be a moment in my life where I'm not lonely.

Insert Heavy Sigh Here

For once, I would like to be important enough in someone's life that they think of me first.  That I don't have to put up with the endless waiting and stupid "oh, I'm sorry" bullshit that seems to occur with stunning regularity.  For once, I want someone to stop paying lip service to me and actually demonstrate that I am, in fact, important.

Perhaps my standards are too high.  I hate lowering them, because that way lies madness, and I know it does, because that's a well-worn path and I'm damn tired of taking it.  I think I'm just going to have to adjust my expectations and live with the fact that nothing is ever serious and I'll just be doomed to 3 year relationships or however long it takes for me to give up on it, when I get tired of dealing with bullshit.

It hurts, but you know, I guess I have to.  I probably shouldn't have jumped off that bridge again.  Shame on me for being that much of a fool.

In the evening

So there's the lightening bugs in the back yard and I'm watching them from my perch on the back porch and thinking, thinking, because it's a beautiful evening in a twilight in-between punctuated by dots of glowing green light and why wouldn't that make a person think?  Although sometimes I wish I didn't think because sometimes my brain is my worst enemy and I end up wondering if I am really the person I am or if I'm just pretending because sometimes I feel like a fraud, surrealistic and unnatural, a thin veneer of civility layered carefully upon a hopeless and insane core, a predatory disease waiting to surface and infect the people around me, and it compells me to want to hide myself from the world because that's how it should be if you're that horrible so that you don't rage out of control because no one needs to see that.

No one needs to see the messy feelings and the heartache and the pain and the suffering and the anger, not that anyone would care that much anyway, because people honestly will never care about you the way that you care about yourself, even if you say it, even if you demand it, but then if you demand it, it's not real and a mere chore for another person to perform, and then you're back to the quandary of being a horrible person again that no one should see when you're in that mood so bleak it threatens to break through whatever controls you've set up to maintain that layer of sanity.  And sometimes it hurts to be this way because you want to say everything but you can't not that anyone would truly listen, but still, sometimes you need to say it seriously and it just sits and festers and you feel like a fraud again, hiding behind the smile and pleasantries.

And that's why I think I write here.  To say the things I'd need to say, to a nonexistent audience.

Smiles Hide So Much

The manic pixie dream girl that's all you'll ever be the girl of good times cut off by the intense emotions you ever feel and never being able to tell tell them and you wonder how long it will last before you're discovered a fraud of who you really are inside. It always fels strange but it always will that person you are versus what you show to people and it will always be a surprise despite the clues you leave behind....