The truth of what REALLY happened on that cruise. (Warning: STRONG language. I mean, strong.)

This post was originally written in late February of 2013.  I have not altered the original post in any way, shape or form; this is exactly how I was feeling at the time.  I will only say that these are the words of a scared, frightened, stressed-out woman that had no idea of what was going to happen.

The only reason that you are reading this right now is because the legal case has been dropped, or settled.  You will now understand what stress and horror I have been living under for the last three months.  I was ordered not to discuss this, for fear it would jeopardize the case - but now it's over.  And now I'm going to scream it to the skies.

Grab some popcorn.  You're about to take a ride on the crazy train.

By the way?  The case was judged as nolle prosequi - which means that "the plaintiff has dropped the charges".  Well, well.  Maybe because you're a lying douche that never had a leg to stand on, huh?

~~

It's been more than a couple of weeks since our aborted vacation; you know, the cruise to Jamaica that we were supposed to go on.  I've been putting off explaining what happened, partially because of shame (though why, I do not know!) and partially because I was afraid that a legal case would be jeopardized because I discussed it on Facebook.  More details about that are below.

The short story is that Greg was arrested, on-board the ship, by the Broward County, Florida Police Department AND by the United States Border Patrol.  He was arrested for, and I quote, "battery and tampering with a victim/witness".  Apparently there was a warrant out for his arrest that was dated from September of 2011.  In that warrant, it was stated that "Mr. Osman has violent tendencies". 

Wha-wha-wha-WHAT???  Fucking WHAT??????

Now, if you guess that it has to do with the crazy-assed bitch of an ex-girlfriend that he literally escaped from in Florida... you would win the new car and a year's supply of Rice-a-Roni.

This fucking cunt - and yes, I say the word cunt, I do not use this term EVER, but that's exactly what she is, so that's what I'm going to say - actually put out a warrant on Greg for supposedly abusing her.  Uhhuh.  That's why he had visible bruises on his body when he fled to my house in June of 2011.  Sure, bitch.  He abused you.  Get... fucking... REAL.

Greg was a victim of domestic violence in that relationship.  When he arrived in Baltimore, he and I actually went to the House of Ruth to try and get him to be seen by a counselor.  That's how much "he abused her".  She broke his glasses - and I do mean shattered them.  But HE "abused her".  Right, got it.  He walked around here for months like a whipped dog because he was so fucking afraid that someone would hurt him - but "he abused her".  Right. 

And she actually dared to use the judicial system to put out a warrant for his arrest. 

The result was that Greg was arrested, in view of over 3,000 people, on the Liberty of the Seas on Monday, January 28, 2013.  Needless to say, I was absolutely hysterical.  We had no idea that there was a warrant out on him, because if we had known - we would have freaking taken care of it!  Also, think about this - if we had known there was a warrant out for his arrest, what makes these idiots think that we'd even come back to Florida to begin with?????  Do they think we're that fucking stupid?

He was unceremoniously hauled off of the ship in handcuffs.  I'm throwing clothes into suitcases, sobbing hysterically, not understanding anything of what's going on, what I need to do next, anything. 

Do you believe that they actually asked me if I wanted to stay on the cruise?  Say the fuck... what?  What makes these idiots think I'd just take off to Jamaica by myself while Greg's in handcuffs over false domestic violence charges?  Do they really think I'm going to just leave him in the Broward County Jail while I hightail it off to the fucking islands?  GET.... FUCKING....REAL.

So I get off of the ship, with those same 3,000 people watching me.  The ship is late taking off, you see, and we're the sole reason for that.  So, yeah, I was totally humiliated.  No doubt about it.

No thanks to the Broward County Police Department, I found a hotel to stay in.  Of course, it's 130 dollars a night, but I was so hysterical that I didn't care.  I'm in a city that I know nothing about (Fort Lauderdale), I'm stranded, my fiance's in jail and I don't even know what the fuck is happening.  So, let's see... we lost our cruise vacation for sure.  That's 800 dollars.  Plus the hotel, so that's another 130. 

Want to keep tabs with me?  It gets better.

I call my mother in absolute hysterics, who in turn calls my brother in absolute hysterics.  He calls me, not in hysterics but visibly rattled.  He dispenses advice - call a lawyer, stat.  Good idea, I think, so I start looking up lawyers.  I'm overwhelmed by the choices.  Call a few, no one answers, it's 9:00pm.  I pull up the website of the jail - I see Greg's booking picture.  He's got visible tears in his eyes.  I totally fucking lose my shit and sob, curled up, on the hotel floor.  What the fuck.  What... the... fuck.

I toss and turn all night.  Can't sleep.  Dry-eyed.  Can't eat anything - I throw up what little I can get down.  I take my blood sugar levels - it's 214.  Only 36 more points and I get to go to the hospital.  Yay.  Great vacation so far.

Dawn arrives.  I wait until the latest hour I think I can before I start calling lawyers again.  I reach one's legal secretary - I spill out my story.  I end up crying again, I can't help it.  She puts me through to the lawyer himself.  I repeat my story.  He agrees to take the case - it's 1,000 dollars for a retainer.  I call my mother, begging for help.  She agrees and pays the retainer for me.  He promises to get over to the courthouse, in the meantime, can I come down there?  I'm on my way.

Now we're up to 1,930 dollars.  Keep counting, boys and girls.

I take a cab to the office because I have no idea of where the fuck I am, and even if I did it wouldn't matter, because I still don't have my driver's license.  So that's another 20 bucks.  I get dropped off right in front of the courthouse - nice, everything's laid out nice and convenient.  Lawyers here, courthouse there, jail across the street.  Big business, I see.  I'm totally disgusted.

I enter the lawyer's office.  Small, plain, white walls, Latina secretary.  Greg's been granted bond.  2500 dollars.  Charges are felonies.  Wonderful.  I start panicking again.  The secretary tells me not to worry, hands me a card, and tells me to go down the street to the bail bond office.  I go over there, thanking Christ that I have a fair amount of cash on me - it was for the ship staff, to give them tips.  I guess they won't be getting it now. 

I enter the bail bond office.  Explained the situation.  I sit down and sign mountains of paperwork - agreeing that they could come after me for the full 2500 if he doesn't show for court, etc.  Names of family, relatives, acquaintances.  I once again feel the humiliation and the despair of the situation we're in.  I get handed papers, told to wait at the jail for his release, and bring him back to the bond office when he's out.  "It may be a couple of hours," they warn.  Great, what else do I have to do?  I fork over 250 dollars, the 10 percent required to get him out. 

So far we're up to 2200 dollars.  Not done yet.

I walk up to the Broward County Jail.  Huge, multifloor concrete building.  Forbidding looking men and women walking through a security line.  I stand there for 15 minutes, not knowing what to do - no one is paying any attention to me.  I get barked at.  "You!  Purse in locker, walk through!"  I take the key, walk through security, nothing goes off.  I try a feeble smile at the officer behind the desk - nothing.  To him, I'm a common criminal just like everyone else that's in here - supposedly.  It doesn't matter that I'm in law enforcement, working for a place a lot higher than the state of Florida.  Here, I'm a criminal. 

I sit down.  Some inane talk show is on.  It's 10:30am.  I wait and watch.  Someone comes in, kisses his girlfriend, walks behind a partition, walks out escorted by a guard and in cuffs.  Returning from a weekend out, probably.  Lots of soft muttered Spanish, guards coming in and out, bringing lunches.  The hours pass.  12:30, 1:30.  The girl from the bail bonds office comes in, ostensibly to deliver paperwork.  She tells me not to worry, that he'll be out today; they're most likely going through processing, it takes time.  I ignore her - they've got their money, I want to be left alone - and keep waiting.  2:00, 2:30.  The time ticks away.  I zone out, wishing that I was anywhere, anywhere but here.

Suddenly... he comes out of the sallyport.  I lose it.  I totally lose it.  I ran over to him and squeezed him as hard as I could, sobbing like a child, not caring what happens.  I know we stood there at least 10 minutes, if not longer.  To their credit, he didn't look the worse for wear....

Not that that's much credit.

We leave the jail and go back to the bail bond office for an appearance.  The guy hands him a bunch of papers to fill out.  Same thing I had to.  Then, a picture.  We finalize everything and go back to the lawyer's office. 

I sit down with the lawyer and ask him straight out what the worst is that can happen.  I get told 2 to 3 years of probation, no more than that - but it's such an insult when he did nothing!!!!!!  He said he'd try to get the charges down to misdemeanors, or thrown out altogether.  I nod numbly.  Asked him if we could go home.  He said yes.  Thank you, Christ - thank you.  He said that we didn't have to appear at the arraignment, he would get a waiver signed so that he could stay in Maryland until the trial, if there was one.  Thank you again, Christ - I will never doubt you exist after this.

How much is the final fee?  2500 dollars more.  1000 extra if the case goes to trial.  Fine, I say.  Let's do this.

Total cost so far:  4,700 dollars.  Plus 1,000 if there's a trial.

We end up being forced to stay in Florida one more night - it's now 5:25pm.  Too late to get a flight out.  That's another 130 dollars.  35 dollars extra to change the plane reservation to the next day - fine, let's do it.

Now the cost is 4,865 dollars.  With trial - 5,865 dollars.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was our lovely Jamaican vacation.  We returned home on Wednesday, January 30th, with a nearly six thousand dollar bill for a legal case that should never have happened, and the possibility of a felony being on my fiance's record - all because of one scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch.  The same scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch that sent him countless messages over his cell phone, over Facebook, threatening him if he didn't come back, trying to sweet talk him back, then talking "dirty" (trying to use sex as a weapon, I guess, this thing knew no bounds), then threatening ME through Facebook, using her ex-husband to message him, etc.  We had to pay for a block on his number so that she couldn't contact him anymore - we had it instituted in July of 2011.  I had to change my phone number outright because she was calling it day and night threatening me.  When that didn't work, she tried to use my Facebook account to tell me to "watch my back".  I have blocked everyone on Facebook with the same name, whether they're her or not.  I have been living in a state of semi-fear since the day he moved here, because from what I understand, this crazy bitch has a gun.  And Fort Lauderdale is 2 hours away by plane and a mere 100 dollar fare.  How do I know what this stupid turkey-neck slut is going to do?

I have been trying my best to hold it together, for Greg's sake and for everyone else's.  But it's been absolute hell having no one to talk to - because I've had to keep this quiet.  I have had nightmares since January 28th.  I have eaten very little and slept even less.  My dreams are of sinking ships, jail visits, and death.  I can no longer think about taking a vacation anywhere that is further than 50 miles from home.  I jump at the sound of sirens; I feel sick when I see a police officer walking toward me. I jump when the phone rings because I think it's the lawyer or the bail bond office calling me to tell me that I've lost the bail bond because he didn't appear for court (and this has already happened once).  I am probably going to have to go back to therapy because I can't process.  This has been nothing short of traumatic for me.  I can't even tell you how many tears I've cried since that day.  I don't know.  It seems endless.

The only reason why you are reading this now is because it's finally over.  The case has been put to rest.  (Though right now, I don't know what that outcome will be.  It'll be revealed after this sentence - I'm prewriting this so I will never have to think about it again, ever.)

Now that you know the entire story, those of you who have disagreed with me about opposing the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) now know why I oppose it; it is what happened to us that makes me believe this is not a good idea for anyone.  Those of you who know and have met Greg personally can attest to the fact that he is genuinely the sweetest, gentlest man alive - he wouldn't harm a soul.  I will never believe that he abused that woman - ever - not from what I know and not from what I've seen.  I have lived with him for the past 2 years, and I know - if he were abusive, I would know by now!

And that part about "violent tendencies".  Shit.  I have more fucking violent tendencies than he does, and anyone who knows us can also attest to that!!!

So... now what?  I don't know, honestly.  I don't blame Greg for any of this.  He was a victim of this woman.  He was abused shamefully, and it just seems that it's punishment on top of more punishment.  How can I be mad at him? 

And yet, I still suffer from this.  The utter humiliation of three thousand people watching me as I scurry off a cruise ship, the amount of money that we've had to spend to defend ourselves from someone who has little to no respect for the court system, the nightmares and fear that I feel. 

Where is my justice? 

I was told that it wasn't even worth trying to sue this woman for the money that we've had to put out defending these bogus charges.  Because (if Greg is telling it right, and I believe that he is) she has nothing anyway - she's a leech on the body society, she collects disability (of course!), she doesn't work, she's a fucking drug addict.  She'd be at home on Jerry Springer - pure trash. 

All that I can say is that Greg must've had one hell of a lapse in judgment at one time to be involved with a thing like this.  (And, yes - the word thing applies here.)

I can feel the tears again - it never stops.  It never ends.  Again... where is the justice? 

Don't cross me. I have minions. (A bit rambly, and certainly may qualify as venty, too.)

I didn't feel much like doing the Saturday 9 this week, but then my entire mood has been just weird and... I guess a little "off", I suppose.  I still have my times where things just don't sit well with me, and this was one of them.  I've actually been upset over the smallest shit today, and that's bothered me immensely.  For example:  Greg and I made a grocery order online (something we usually do, though neither of us like it) on Friday night, and we'd ordered a pound of white button mushrooms.  Simple enough, right?

So, the order came, and I swear to fucking God, there was a bag with ONE.  MUSHROOM.  IN.  IT.  One.  A tiny little solitary white button mushroom.  We checked the receipt... and they actually charged us 28 cents for this one sad fucking little mushroom.  It's enough to make anyone laugh their asses off, me included - usually.

No.  I fucking lost it because Safeway had the nerve to actually bag up ONE mushroom.  And charge me for it.  I was literally upset for hours over this - like I said, the stupidest shit on the planet.  Why did I do that?

Bless Greg for putting up with me.  I don't know how he does it, I swear.  And I honestly don't know why I felt like that, but.... it's stupid little shit like this that's made me feel tired and rundown and sad all day.  Depressed, actually.  I don't know whether it's because all of what I'm going through at work is dragging me down, or financial worries, or what.  I have no clue.  All that I know is that I'm so tired of being strong for everyone else's sake.  And I know I have to let go of that stupidity, because I've carried the weight for so freaking long that it's broken my shoulders.  Isn't that how I got depression in the first place?

I find that I still have so many issues concerning independence and needing help and allowing others to assist me.  I have no idea of what I'm going to do when I get too old to do things on my own - I'm so freaking proud and stubborn, and I know it.  Sigh....

As usual, when I'm feeling like this, I have a yearning to go backward in time... to see how people from my past are doing.  Whether they "miss" me or not, I guess.  Whether they think about me.  Which is silly, actually, because I'm pretty sure that they couldn't give a rat's ass.  But, still... it's a compulsion that I have a hard time breaking, and when I'm in moods like this, it's magnified a hundred times over, usually with bad results.  Tonight's journey wasn't actually so bad.  I'm feeling less and less hurt as time rolls on, which I guess is a good thing - though I cry when I find out new information, sometimes.  Like... tonight, I found out that one of my favorite cats that I'd loved so much in the trash shack in Georgia is dead.  I don't know when it happened - but it happened before March of 2010, because that's the date on the picture and it says "the late ".... sigh.  I loved that boy like he was my very own - he was the sweetest one of the bunch that I tried to take care of.  He comforted me when my Pearl died in that hellhole.... and now I know he's gone.  And THAT hurts.  He wasn't even eight years old yet, I know that for a fact, because I moved into that horror house in March of 2002 and he was literally weeks old then.  

Of course he didn't make it to 8 years old.  Would you, if you were forced to live amongst filth and decay?

I feel so fucking guilty that I couldn't save him - any of them.  That's what happens when you live with a hoarder.  That's what happens when you try to have a normal life with a person who isn't normal.  I mean, let's face it - I'm a slob, I'm Oscar in the fucking Odd Couple - but I'm not a hoarder.  I know when to throw shit away.  I know better than to have 22 cats and 4 fucking dogs and not be able to take care of any of them.  I know when something needs fixing in my house and I don't use a slop bucket to fill up my toilet tanks when I need to take a shit.

Oh, Christ, I don't even want to go into this right now.  I WILL start crying and I'll go into a downward spiral for the rest of the weekend.  That I DON'T need.  I'm not ready to confront all of that.  Not yet.  Not now.

Tonight, though, I'm grateful that I've removed certain people from my life.  I'm grateful that I have the knowledge that I will never go back to those times, nor do I want to.  I see tons of people on my Facebook "friend suggestions", people that I knew, people that my friends know... but I don't add anybody.  I don't want to, honestly.  I have all of the "friends" on there that I need or want, and if someone wants to get in touch with me, they know how to find me.  If they don't make an effort... they don't really want to know what's going on in my life, then, do they?

Those kinds of "friends", I don't need.

I find that I am enjoying simplicity.  I have my job.  I have Greg in my life, and we live pretty quietly, simply - we don't need or want a lot of things.  I have friends that I can turn to in the rare event that I need advice.  I have a home to live in, food to eat, clothes on my back.  We occasionally go out for a movie, bowling, walks;  nothing complicated.  The anger that I have held inside of me for so long is beginning to dissipate.  I no longer seek out drama, or even welcome it in others.

Maybe I'm starting to grow old at last - but I'm at the point now where I just want a quiet life and my ways are my ways.  I've never dealt well with change as a rule, anyhow.

The sun is setting on the first half of my life.  I'm okay with that, finally.  I'll be 40 in less than 3 months now, 90 short days - and I'm okay with that as well.  I've seen enough "action" (which really translates to pain, when you think about it) for a lifetime.  Now I just want my life settled, quiet, happy.  I think I'm well on the way to that.  Things didn't turn out the way that I'd expected, maybe - but it's all right.  Everything for a reason, yes?

I am considerably "calmer" now than when I started writing this post, all in the space of 20 short minutes.  I guess that writing it all out does tend to help with my confuzzled state of mind, heh.  Still... I dislike it when I lapse into old patterns of thinking.  I need to watch that, still, I think.

One day at a time.  (La, dah-dah-dah.  Score if you know to what I refer, heh.  :p )

Until then.

Angry at the world tonight.

I don't know why, but I've been feeling like shit for the last couple of days. Part of it might be that I've been working a whole bunch of overtime recently (unwillingly), but... tonight was just weird. I once again felt that sense of disconnection with people, with life, and I've been crying on and off all day today. It reminds me of the old days when the depression took over.

There could be a lot of reasons for it, of course; it's getting close to a certain time of the month (oh, shut up, whiners, and deal), it's been raining the last couple of days and therefore kind of miserable out... the holidays have finally arrived and I'm feeling pressure, my finances are getting kind of bad because of all of the expense, I've been working a lot, Greg's been working a lot... it could be any or all of those things. Tonight, Greg and I had a few awkward moments... I can't really call it a fight, because it wasn't, but... things were not as they usually are and I could feel it in the air. It bothered me. It scared me.

I'm trying so hard not to be pessimistic, but it just seems to be my second nature now, no matter how hard I try to look on "the bright side" of things. I've been screwed over, fucked with, made fun of too much to be any other way. I keep waiting for that shoe to fall. I'm trying not to... but I can't help myself. :(

I felt bothered enough to go looking up old "enemies", if you will. And things haven't changed. I'm still angry with them. I still want to take a chunk out of their heads. It's still the same stupid toxicity, years later. I can't ever allow myself to think it'll be any different. Why do I seek it out still? Is it something within me that won't let go? What is it that I want to hear from these people - "I'm sorry"? Heh... sorry lies between the words shit and syphilis in a dictionary. What difference will it make, hearing it now?

In one particular person's case, I guess I feel cheated of the chance to rip her fucking head off and shove it down the stem of her neck. That's what I really want to do - write her (or better yet, tell it to her face) a big "fuck you, bitch" note. There's something that she did that I cannot and will not ever forgive her for - even though the original situation is long over and I don't really care about it anymore, the fact that she fucked me over while it was happening.... well, that's enough right there for her to earn a permanent place on the shit list.

Actually, I'm mad at a couple of people from that time period, one of whom I couldn't get mad at before. So.... I guess that's progress, in a way.

I wish I could blank out the last six years - the last thirty years, really - and start over again.... sigh.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. I don't know.

Potentially controversial post. Be warned.

I'm well aware that not everyone is going to agree with me on the issue that I'm about to speak of; indeed, I expect some vehement anger to come forth, actually. But if there's one thing I have learned in the last year and a half, it's that I'm not going to be silenced just because my opinion is unpopular. So, with that said, I shall now continue my original train of thought.

On my Facebook feed today, I've noticed that everyone and sundry is recognizing Veteran's Day. "Thanks to everyone that's served, that continues to serve, we wouldn't have the freedoms we do without you, etc., etc., etc."

I know that I'm going to seem horribly anti-American for my sentiment here, and if you feel that way, I'm sorry that you're going to take it the wrong way. And you WILL take it the wrong way.

But... somehow I just can't seem to feel thankful for the fact that thousands of American soldiers have died overseas - for what? Seriously, for what? The right for our corrupted, greedy government to rape the Middle East of oil in the name of profit? So that we can fill our gas-guzzling cars and pollute the air even more than it already is? So that thousands, millions, of citizens in countries far away from Japan to Iraq could die in the name of an ideal, an ideal that in the end means nothing at all?

How about the soldiers in the armed forces that make little to nothing for their families? While the very people that they serve, their fat-cat bosses in the United States Congress, sit on their over-privileged asses and make six-figure salaries for their rest of their useless lives? Is THIS something to be thankful for?

Let's talk about the people coming home from Vietnam, in their wheelchairs, with their arms and legs blown off, now sitting on street corners homeless with cardboard signs begging for food, or going insane in mental hospitals because they have endless recurring nightmares of the innocent women and children they shot - "in the name of freedom". Yeah, how about that for a celebration?

Maybe before we toot our proverbial horns about being thankful on Veteran's Day for the people that have served this greedy, selfish country, we need to consider that these same people need decent food, housing, medical care and a standard of living that's just a bit more than a cardboard box under a highway.

How about THAT for thanking veterans, America? Think you can manage that?

Didn't think so.

......

Several people have written me in the last few hours due to a rather cryptic Facebook status I put up earlier yesterday that simply said "bad, bad, bad, bad day".

First of all, rest assured that I'm as okay as I'm going to be. I'm not in danger, I'm not unable to function, and I'm eating, drinking, showering, living. So, no worries there. However... I'm currently dealing with a very personal, painful situation that has been a very long time in coming. It's culminated into ... I guess that one could say that I've reached the end of the rope, and I'm letting go.

For my own health and sanity, I must.

I never wanted things to come to this point, but it's now out of my hands. It's not under my control. And... what have I learned, boys and girls? I cannot control anything other than what I do.

Heh, that's become some kind of mantra for me, I think.

Healing will come, just like I've healed from other things. But I suspect that it'll be a long, long time before I can say that it no longer affects me.

It is now 5:15 in the morning, here, and it's dark and quiet outside. It resembles how I feel right now... dark, but quiet. I'm just going to be, for a while. Simply be still. I don't have to decide anything today. I don't have to do anything but simply be.

The death of a dream is always hard. But new dreams will come. I have to believe that. I have to, if I want to survive.

Thanks to a certain couple of people out here for listening to me... and for not judging me, or thinking that I'm pathetic. It gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, I'll see my way through and out of this.

In the meantime.... breathe. Just breathe. And be.

Well, situation normal. It's all fucked up. :p

This past week has been absolutely horrendous. In the course of just 7 days, I've been feeling like utter crap, I've gained 3 pounds (putting me nearly back to the start of the year - when is this shit ever going to get better, damn it?), I've been harassed at work (I hesitate to say sexual harassment, but in truth that's exactly what it falls under) and now face the possibility of making a formal complaint, my mortgage went up by 40 dollars a month, I've lost my state tax refund because of the escrow shortage, and my cat's been puking up hairballs all over the house. I don't know if she's sick - she doesn't seem to be - but I'm a little concerned.

Fuck. Could this week have been any worse?

What absolutely amazes me is that for the most part, I've held it together and not crumbled to pieces. I keep reminding myself that things could be, and have been, a lot worse. Still, I didn't appreciate everything raining down on my head all at once, you know?

I was supposed to clean this weekend, but after all of this bullshit, I've pretty much boiled it down to "fuck this, I'll do what I like", heh. I am so tired, and it just seems that every bit of human contact that I've had recently has been nothing but a source of irritation. Though maybe it's nothing except paranoia, I just get this overwhelming sense that everything is either going wrong or is about to.

I look around and I see all of these things that I either want to do or, worse, need to be done... and I can't seem to find any enthusiasm or will to do any of it. It's like, what's the point?

Even my therapy recently hasn't much helped this sense of impending doom.

Maybe I'm just going through a bad patch right now, I don't know, but I wish it would stop.

Okay, bitching over. :p /complaint

Happy VD. (Damn, that sounds just wrong.)

A rocky start to the new year.

I won't beat around the bush with this entry - there's no point to it. Basically, I got into a rather violent confrontation with my mother this evening. What about, right? She started in again about how my brother was having monetary problems and she was sending him money, lalala. Now, I don't care that he's having money problems - aren't we all - but what I DID care about is that she just starts talking about him again. I don't care, I don't give a fuck, I don't want to know. This is what she always does. Every time I talk to her, she mentions him, and she always makes excuses for him no matter what bone-headed thing he does. So I told her what I thought, that he'd made some pretty bad decisions and maybe that was why he was having money problems. Like, say, having 9 cats. Having 9 cats equals a big fucking money drain! "Oh, they've had those cats. They were doing well once, would you get rid of those cats if you fell onto hard times?" Yes, I would, because that's a money drain. "Oh, no, you wouldn't!"

Uhh.... DON'T tell me what I would do. You obviously don't know me.

Then I proceeded to tell her that I wouldn't be so damned foolish as to have 9 cats in the first place. So then the huge question pops up... "Are you jealous of your brother?"

I said no, but you know what? Yeah, I fucking am. I'm jealous that he's gotten all of your love and attention and happiness over the years. I'm jealous that I've suffered from goddamn emotional abuse all of my life while apparently he gets off scot-free. Yeah, I'm fucking jealous. Sue me. Then she said that she's helped me out plenty (she has, I never fucking said she didn't) and that "he's had it hard, and I don't appreciate you criticizing my parenting decisions".

Anyway, that question prompted a furious lecture, to which I laid out everything I was thinking and everything that I'd told my therapist, including how his bullshit girlfriend fucking abused me while she was busy going out marching for peace and love and all of that crap. It was not a pleasant end to the conversation at all. I ended up hanging up on her, something that I have NEVER done. I screamed into the phone that I was busy, that I DIDN'T want to have this conversation (which I had actually warned her earlier not to pursue, which she didn't listen), and that I'm sick of hearing about my brother and don't want to hear anymore. Click.

And then I couldn't stop crying. I just couldn't stop crying, even through a warm shower and huddling up on the sofa in a fetal position. Happy new year to me, indeed.

I'm awake several hours later. I'm sitting here now and while I still feel raw, while there are still tears coming out of my eyes, I won't take it back. For once in my life, I was honest about how I feel. For once in my life, I told it like it is. If that means that she's mad, too bad. Let WonderSon come up here and take care of her for a change - not that he will, trust me. In that, he's like my father, not giving a fuck what his actions wrought, even if it's emotional destruction.

The really ironic thing about the whole situation is that I'm the one that made good. I'm the one that works their ass off at an odious, emotionally-draining job and doesn't ask for a goddamn thing. He's chronically unemployed and living in fucking "paradise" - only his paradise has now soured because my sister-in-law is in a wheelchair and can no longer work so "he's depressed". Awwww. So sorry, but you know what? It's an excuse. He has a goddamn degree from a culinary school, he can go to work at a restaurant somewhere - fuck, he could OPEN a restaurant. The excuse I got from my mother? "He's too old to do that, he can't stand long hours on his feet anymore."

AND I CAN??? I can stand on MY feet for 8 hours a day serving angry, drug-addicted criminals screaming epithets at me, but he can't stand on his feet for a little while cooking food? EXCUSE!!!!!

Yeah, look, I'm sorry for my sister-in-law, being disabled is hard and especially the way she is, but you know what? You take what you're given in life, no matter how little that is, and you do the best with what you have! You get out there and you WORK IT. My sister-in-law is in a wheelchair and has no control over her limbs - so fine, yeah, she's got an excuse. My brother has NO EXCUSE. NONE.

And I'm blue fucking pissed at my mother because she assumes that I'm ungrateful for the help she's given me. Yeah? I'm ungrateful? So how come I just bought her a fucking television set yesterday for Christmas/New Year's? After I had lunch with her the other day? We went to fucking Best Buy and I bought her a television, a nice flat-screen TV. I offered her a larger size TV than the one she bought, as a matter of fact. "I have the money, don't worry about it." Does this sound like I'm ungrateful for the help she's given me? DOES IT? Does my brother, Saint Kelly, have the wherewithal to buy her a TV set for the asking? Huh? I don't hear any fucking answer from the peanut gallery, so I guess the answer is no!

I am not going to put up with any more abuse. If this means she's mad at me and doesn't talk to me for a few days, so be it. She knows there isn't anyone else up here to take care of her needs and get to her instantly, so she's going to have to make it up to me somehow. And even if she doesn't - so what? It's a weight off of my shoulders.

It's time to start living for myself. I am DONE with this fucking guilt-trip bullshit. FUCKING. DONE.

A Christmas rant, just for you.

I will open this post by stating that I am sick and tired of being made to feel guilty for the choices I make, especially by my so-called family. I just got off the phone with my mother (of course - didn't you all see this coming?), who asked me what I was doing for the holiday tomorrow. Well, now, duh - I talk to her at 7:30pm every day (shades of my grandmother, sigh) and she KNOWS what's going on in my life (i.e., nothing). What makes her think that I have any plans for the holidays? I mean, really? Does she not fucking pay attention to what I say to her?

So I told her the truth - it's just another day for me. I'll probably clean the house and unpack some more. "Aren't you going to eat?" Well, yeah, a tuna fish sandwich and a bowl of soup later, perhaps. What makes her think I'm going to eat anything other than that? What in her mind is making her think that I'm going to sit down to Christmas dinner somewhere with people? Then she does what I call the "oh" - saying the word in a half-surprised, half-guilty voice. I fucking HATE that. I really, really fucking hate that.

I swear that I don't think she really ever listens to what I say. Mainly because most of the time she's bringing up my brother or his problems or what he thinks or what he did. I. Don't. Care. When is she going to GET that?

Yeah, okay, I'm alone on Christmas Day, wah, boohoo, what a tragedy. I WAS okay with that decision up until now. Now? I feel like shit. She actually asked me on the phone if I wanted to come over to her house. "Why? You're only asking me that because you feel guilty that I'm by myself on Christmas Day and you think I'm depressed. That's the reason you asked, isn't it?" For once, she was honest and said yes.

Yeah, well, thanks, Mom. Now I AM depressed, because apparently my decision isn't good enough for you. But when is that new? When is ANYTHING I do ever going to be enough? I mean, I know I'm not my sainted brother who's just the apple of everyone's eye or anything, but Christ, I'm human too. When are you going to fucking realize that?

Okay. Now I'm angry AND crying. Jesus. Way to go, Mom, you score again. Thanks a whole fucking lot. Why couldn't you just have left me alone?

Someone wake me up on January 1st, please.

What a waste....

I received an announcement that yet another "friend" (and yes, I put that in quotes for a reason, mainly because this is yet another of those fair-weather friends, you know the type) is getting married. The first thing that I thought was, "You're an idiot.". The second thing I thought was, "I give it a year, tops.". God, I'm so cynical.

But underneath all of the sourness, the plain truth is that I'm angry. I've been incredibly unlucky in relationships and social ties, undoubtedly because of my issues. I stood at the train stop this morning, just as usual, but this morning I ended up crying as if my heart would break. And that's because, well, it's broken.

What do you expect when the first role model you ever have for the opposite sex abandons you as a baby?

I am really having a hard time right now with that. I never really thought about my father in anything but a dismissive, cursory way because...well, he's been absent from my life so no need to think about it, right? Only now do I realize that I hurt, that it was quite possibly the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It makes me more depressed than ever to realize that, because this happened when I was a year old with no conscious memory. Does this mean that I NEVER had a shot at a healthy life?

Now I've got a good idea of why I'm so stuck in the past - because I literally am unable to move ahead. In order to do that, I have to accept the abandonment, and I can't get past it. I just can't do it!

I have never hated my father more than I do right now, as I write this.

So some smartass at this point might now say, "Okay, Carrie, turn lesbian. That will solve all of your men problems.".

Well, I've got news for that smartass - been there, done that and I hold just as much contempt for women as I do men. Maybe more. That's a whole separate issue from what I'm talking about, though, and I'm upset enough, so...another discussion for another day.

If anyone knows someone single that is willing to deal with a depressive that has some serious issues including abandonment, codependency, cynicism, abuse, intense distrust and a possible eating disorder as a result of all of this shit (because now I'm really starting to believe that I'm packing weight in order to hide away)....let me know, would you?

Yeah. Didn't think so.

Sinking into the abyss.

I should be doing my biology classwork tonight, but the truth of the matter is that I just don’t feel like dealing with it, or much of anything. It’s been a very rough couple of days for me, where my emotions have been up, down, back, forth, and Christ knows what else. Just another depressive episode, only it’s colored by the fact that I’ve discovered a few unpleasant things about myself – again.

I was abused as a child. This has been pretty much known to me for a while, but:

1. I did not know or realize the extent of the damage, which I have discovered via therapy is MASSIVE;

2. I am suffering from severe emotional abuse more than anything, which shocks me because I wasn’t aware that there was such a thing. Physical, sexual, mental, sure. But emotional abuse? Yet, that’s exactly what I suffer from, and it’s the worst of all of the four;

3. Just like all abusers, I myself have become emotionally abusive toward people that I’ve supposedly loved. This particular fact is the most difficult thing to grasp for me – I’ve turned into my parents, and it’s shocking and hurtful.

Now you know why I will never have children. Because the cycle of abuse would continue. And I would love my children enough to spare them that pain.

My therapist has recommended a book for me called “Born to Win”, which I’ve ordered, along with another book that I discovered on my own called “Healing Your Emotional Self” by Beverly Engel. It’s sort of a workbook, I guess. I read snippets of it on Amazon and immediately started crying, because that woman was describing ME.

I find that I’ve been crying a lot when I recognize my pain in other sources. It’s impossible to listen to either Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”, or “Wish You Were Here”, because they’re talking about me.

From “Us And Them”:

Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end it's only round and round.

And that’s how I feel. It’s all the same no matter what happens. I’m hurting and confused and scared. The more I do this therapy, the more afraid I feel. I seriously feel like I’m just too emotionally broken to heal. There is so much anger at so many people that I’ve suppressed, stuffed down, swallowed – how can I get it out? How can I safely get it out without alienating what precious little I have left?

That’s what truly frightens me. It’s the anger. It’s the incredible, all-consuming, furious anger that I feel at my parents, at myself, at my family, the people I know, once knew, might meet later that will inevitably hurt me. Just thinking about it makes my throat hurt because I’m trying to swallow down the tears that just come up, almost automatically.

What am I going to do? What is going to become of me?

Next to this, a biology assignment seems inconsequential.

I'm getting out of here.

I've made a decision to take an extended sabbatical from everything that's online-related. That means Facebook, Twitter (I'll probably end up deleting my Twitter account altogether, that's how little I use it), maybe even this blog for a while.

I never thought that I'd actually WANT isolation from everything, but I think it's the only way I'm going to be able to get my shit together and decide what the fuck is going to happen to me. The only way you'll be able to contact me (if you care, anyway) is via Email - I will check that on a regular basis, if only to keep the bullshit stuff from overwhelming the account. Otherwise, I'm unavailable.

Something happened to me this weekend that I simply don't want to discuss. I will only reveal that it was very bad, that it's killed off yet another sliver of my heart (and I have precious little of that to give up at this point), and it's a huge, huge, HUGE setback to my mental health and well-being. It's made me hate humanity that much more. It's convinced me that I will never, ever try again to reach out to anyone for anything - if I want anything in this world, I'm going to have to rely on my own devices to get it.

And if anyone has any fucking complaints about it, too bad.

I'll come back when I want to come back, and not before. Maybe at this point I'll never fucking come back, but who would fucking notice anyway.

Fuck it all, fuck the world, fuck everything.

Strangeness.

I have had what can only be termed a strange week. Oh, it's not been unusual as far as particular moods or outlooks on life are concerned - I still more or less feel like shit and hate 99.9% of humanity, heh. But some things have happened that have been good, disturbing, and interesting - sometimes all at once.

First, let's start wth the good and get that happy, cheery, positive shit out of the way, shall we? Anyway, I believe that I've found therapy that may just work for me. It's right down the street at a clinic called Chase-Brexton. They've been around for quite a while, mainly focusing on the GLBT community in Baltimore, but they've expanded to serve everyone - and that includes mental health. So I actually DID call my insurance company - decided that I couldn't take any more bullshit, if I had to stay on hold for hours, so be it - and for once, they were actually pretty helpful. They referred me over to CBHS, so I get to talk with referral staff today. Oh, joy. The sarcasm is misplaced, though, in this instance - I need to get back on medication, or talk to someone I can relate to, I don't know. I'm dubious that any of this shit will help me, but at this point I've got nothing to lose but my sanity. (And possibly, my job, if I don't get right soon.)

Now, the interesting. (I know, it's out of order, but the disturbing will come in a moment, because it bothers me - a lot - and I may need peoples' thoughts on it.)

The interesting is only that I've managed to strike up a conversation with a guy that rides the commuter train with me in the mornings. That's it. I know, earth-shattering news, but when you live in an antisocial bubble and do your best to avoid any and all human contact, it's a big deal, at least to me. Of course, my workplace in its infinite wisdom has switched me back over to the evening shift, which means I won't get to see him for another month. Thanks, assholes.

Now, for the disturbing. And the subject of said disturbance may be reading here. If that's so, I will warn that subject now to stop reading, or be prepared to be a little hurt by what I say, because I feel what I feel, and your presence in my life doesn't stop those feelings. In other words, deal with it. Ready? Here it comes.

I have recently reconnected with a person that was in my life about 20 years ago, when I was a green idiot in high school. That person did something to me way back when to cause me to abandon the friendship - it's really not that important what it was now, something that was probably very petty. But as we all know, people with mental conditions such as I have don't see things that way, and they carry slights and hurt with them like so much luggage for years. This is no different for me.

And, additionally as we all know, I in particular do not forgive a slight very easily.

Anyway, I have been questioning myself as to what my real motive is for getting back in touch with this person. Is it so that I can take my very real and still very fresh anger out on them? Should I have gotten back in touch with them at all, or should I have just let sleeping dogs lie? And can I still do that? This hasn't gotten very far, after all, I haven't really updated this person on my life or what's going on with me - I just know about them. And from the pieces of news that I've received, they're simply not doing very well.

God help me, but in some ways I think it's poetic justice. They hurt me, I now wonder if they know what it feels like to hurt. I actually get some pleasure out of that - isn't that terrible?

I'm seriously thinking of just quietly walking away from the situation, partially because I think my motives are unclean (i.e., I just want to hurt them in revenge for hurting me all those years ago, which isn't the reason why someone should be coming back into a person's life), and partially because said person's life is in upheaval and full of drama, which is the LAST thing I need to deal with at this point in my life. I need uncomplicated and drama-free, and the appearance of this person isn't going to make it so. Not by a long shot.

Anyhow. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Like I said - a strange week. I have a paper due this weekend, which is good, because I'll actually have to concentrate on something other than my vacant head.

Must work now. Adios. :p

More bitching. Lucky you.

There's a lot of things that have been going on as of late, but for some reason I haven't felt the need to really describe them. Unfortunately, my mental health as of late hasn't been too good, although as usual I give off the appearance that everything is fine. I'll tell you, if I had wanted to, I would have made a mighty fine actress - though in truth I think it's that people see what they want to see. But, anyway.

This time of the year is never good for me, because my dreaded birthday is this month, toward the last 2 weeks. Just as I didn't share when it was last year, I won't do it this year, either. I just don't want to think about it, or celebrate it in any way. This might sound really bad, but I don't see the day I was born as something to celebrate or anything particularly noteworthy. It's a day like any other. It's a day where I made an appearance in a world that I never wanted to be in.

Unfortunately, what's happening at work is coloring a lot of my outlook right now, and a lot of it is not too pleasing to me at the moment. It's a long story, but there's a lot of changes going on and it's not for the better in my view. I am tired of the idiots I have to deal with day in and day out, I'm sick of explaining myself over and over and over and over and over (when anyone with a fucking brain can understand what I say), I'm tired of dealing with the dregs of society who do nothing but leech off of the system and do nothing to fucking help themselves. I'm sick of dealing with fucking urine and people who don't have the basic fucking sense to wear a goddamn sanitary pad or tampon when they're fucking bleeding. I'm tired of dealing with people who deliberately piss on the floor, don't flush the fucking toilets after themselves... this is the bullshit I have to deal with day in and day fucking out here. I'm utterly SICK of it.

I didn't mean this to turn into a rant, but in truth I guess that's what it is. Fuck it. Ask me if I care what anyone thinks.

Yes, I know, I'm grateful to have a job, blah blah. It's still my blog and I'll bitch if I choose.

Wish that I had some better news to report, but the truth is that there isn't.

I'm doing okay with my classes, at least that, though the math is giving me trouble as per usual. Screw it - I'm going for a criminal justice major, not a math major - as long as I get my C, fuck it. So far I'm managing to pass it, and if I stay there, all is well.

That's about it. Sorry that it's not more exciting or that I'm not in a better mood, but if you know me by now, you know that you either take what you get with me at the time, or you're welcome to walk. I could care less either way.

'night for now.

More shower ruminations.

I recall that exactly this time last year, or close to it, I wrote a post about having rambling, disjointed thoughts in the shower. Funny how it's happened a year to the day that my mind is also focused on this topic...

Anyway, I was thinking this morning about certain happenings going on over at Facebook with my friends, apparently all interested in catching up on their past. Friends from high school talking about a reunion (it's 20 years this year - big whup), people from the BBS's making groups, blah blah. I was thinking about all of that, and measuring how vested an interest I have in all of it... and, well, call me antisocial but somehow this is all striking a "so what?" chord in me.

At one time, I would have been thrilled to revisit my past. But for me, "revisiting" always, without fail, tries to turn into "reliving". And for me, that's dangerous, not to mention counter-productive to what I'm trying to do, which is reconcile my past - to accept it, and to move on to whatever future there is.

My high school was, in a word, strange. It was certainly segregated into black/white terms (though you wouldn't think it would be, for an inner city school - but it was, there's no getting around that) and definitely had its "in" groups, including one particularly powerful clique that had been friends since they were knee-high, and more or less controlled nearly everything in the place - not really so different from a lot of American high schools, I suppose. They're still friends to this very day. Powerful stuff, I guess. But in truth, I'm thinking that high school cliques only mattered - in high school. Today, 20 years later? Big whup, right? :p

I never really fit in anywhere, which is the pattern of my life. Not with the powerful clique(s), not with the black kids, not with the "slow learners" because I was placed in advanced classes, no one. I became a chameleon. I learned to adapt. But in truth, I had nothing but acquaintances. People I hung out with, but never really got to know.

So I'm faced with the possibility of a 20-year high school reunion maybe coming up. Am I going? Honestly... if I'm asked (which I doubt I will be), I will have to say no. Because I'm not like them, never have been. I truthfully don't feel that I'm a part of .. well, whatever group(s) they have, not then and not now. And 20 years ago means nothing now, as my enrollment in school shows. Things have changed, the world has moved on. I need to, as well.

As for the BBS thing... I'm a little less torn about that, but my head is still in the same place for the most part - let it lie. No good can come of digging up old bodies and issues. Yes, I had some great times, but they can't be relived. I also think of the really awful times I had, too, and for some reason, that's what sticks out in my head. There are still people I'm angry with from that period of time, and I haven't resolved my issues with them as of yet. There are bigger fish to fry right now.

Anyway. I have to dash off to work, but I figured I'd share these disconnected thoughts floating through my brain this morning. Any comments are welcomed, as you all know.

:p

Sorry for the temporary 'dropout'.

I've had a lot going on in the last week, most of it bad. I don't want to discuss it, as it's more or less futile and I'm still angry over a lot of it. Sorry. Maybe one of these days when it all doesn't matter to me so much, I'll open my mouth about it but until then, you take what you get.

No Friday meme today. The subject is quite frankly boring (collaborations? who gives a rat's ass, doesn't it always happen anyway?) and I'm not really in the mood much to answer questions about anything.

This week has not been a good week. I've been quite ill for most of it, it's not going away, plus the above-mentioned situation is digging under my skin at the same time, so I've not been a happy camper nor have I been easy to deal with.

I've lost 10 pounds in the last week alone. Good news that I have, but bad news as to how I did it.

Anyway. Tomorrow is Saturday and I can get some of my frustration and anger out on the exercise machines. I'm so looking forward to that, because with the way I feel right now, that elliptical is toast.

I'll write later if I feel better. At this rate, I won't be writing until next April, but we'll see.

p.s. I received three Emails within an hour of writing this post asking me if they were the ones I was upset with. The answer is no. If I am upset with you. you will know. Trust me when I say this. I will, in time, get over my anger as I always do because I'm basically a soft-hearted patsy, and the world will spin round on its axis and everything will be fine. In the meamtime, I've soothed myself with retail therapy, including pre-ordering a copy of "Inglorious Basterds", which in my eyes is the film of the year, as far as I'm concerned. As for me, I will be perfectly fine, I assure you. I appreciate the concern. I'm not all right... right now. But I will be.

I think that I need to really take stock and review how my life's going. I don't know if I try to aim for too much or what, but I just have such a low, low tolerance for frustration... and for forgiveness. It seems that whenever anyone does me wrong, or what I perceive is a wrong, I just cut them loose, for good, I don't even stop to think about it. I think it's because I just have this zero-tolerance policy as far as someone hurting me is concerned. I've let a few people slide way more than they should have on this. And some I have cut loose without them doing much of anything to deserve it. I know that. I just really don't see how to stop it, because I pretty much expect everyone to hurt me before they even begin.

So much for me not talking a lot, huh.

I wish that I could be more of an adult about shit. I'm almost 38 now and I still approach things like a teenager (which could be a good thing sometimes, but in this case it isn't). One of the things that really, really hurt me in the above-mentioned situation was that I was accused of acting like a child. Well, thanks, I understand that sometimes I do, but if you'd been through the horrendous fucking things I have in my life (and you should know because I've told you about all of them, so you don't have much leeway where that's concerned), how do you move beyond self-protection? That's what it is - self-protection. It's making damned sure that you, that nobody else, will never hurt me again.

Folks, I haven't begun to outline the things that have happened to me in my lifetime. You only know some of it, I haven't scratched the surface. There's been abuse on almost every level. There's been rape. There's been molestation. In every corner of my life, there has been pain and hurt and anger that simply isn't, hasn't been, resolved. Is it any wonder that I react like a child sometimes? How would you handle my life if you were in my shoes? Think about it - hard. Some of you wouldn't make it. Some of you wouldn't begin to make it, you'd be screaming the heebie-jeebies before you got to age 10. I find it almost laughable, really. I fucking dare you to live my life and come out on the other side stronger. Go for it! 99% of you would lose.

Heh, sorry. It's obvious the anger is beginning to come out now, and maybe that's a good thing, really. I already feel a little better.

Sorry for yelling. Comments are welcomed, if you feel like it.

Not doing too well.

I have felt a range of emotions today, most of them not good. From disconnection to anger to intense sadness, I've been through the wringer. I guess that this trip wasn't so good for my psyche after all, because I've been an emotional (and to a point, physical) wreck ever since. It's hard when you're criticized for 9 days straight and can't seem to get away from it... also hard to hear praises on high being heaped upon your sibling constantly at the same time.

I've given up ever thinking that my family will be anything but toxic to me. I'm not going to try anymore to gain their approval or their love. What's the point? It only gets me into a world of hurt. I don't even want anything from any of them anymore - no financial help, no contact, no nothing. I will do the basic minimum that I have to, and no more. I've taken major, major steps back in my emotional health and I can feel it.

It's times like this that I just want to drop everything and run away - to start over in a new place, new environment, where no one knows me and I can be who I am without any judgments or recriminations. But alas, this is real life and I can only 'escape' so much. Isn't that what I've tried to do all of my life? Escape?

In a way I'll be glad to go to work tomorrow - at least it's routine. I can go back to routine and just... try to repair the damage done.

Sorry for the "downer" post... not that I feel anyone's listening, anyway. I asked the question on my Facebook the other day, who would miss me if I never came back...

I got one response. That's right... one. At least that one person said something, and for that, Warren, I thank you...

I'm seriously about to just become a hermit. I won't get hurt that way....

Finally home again.

I really don't want to talk about the cruise or what happened on it - needless to say, every negative expectation I had of it was fulfilled and more, and I'll just leave it at that.

I start school on Monday. Somehow I'm actually looking forward more to that than anything. I don't know why, as I botched up the last crim course I had and I don't see why this one will be any different.

Sorry for the highly negative tone today, but I'm feeling negative. I'm sick and tired of being told, even in small ways, that I don't matter and that my feelings are nothing more than "hysterical" or even worse, "melodramatic". Jesus. I so fucking hate that word. It's what's stuck with me all these years... my feelings are nothing more than 'melodrama'. Thanks a lot, fucking douches. I really appreciate that.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow after being alone for a while, I hope so. Because right now I just feel nothing but angry.

:(

Sigh.... and life rolls on.

Things haven't changed much.  I'm still at the job - though apparently the news about the bitch leaving is true - she was seen cleaning her desk out this morning.  Thank fucking God, that's all I can say.  Now if I could get a couple more out of here...but, alas, one at a time.  I will so not miss her stupid screaming laugh that sounds for all the world like a dying hyena.  If I could kiss the fucking floor... two more days.  That's all I have to deal with now is two days... please Christ let me get through them without wanting to smack her stupid face.

 

I've been rendered even more bitter and disillusioned - I got my weekly crim assignment grade back... an 84.  What... the... fuck.  I worked my ass off on an assignment last week that only got a 68 (as far as I know, that's a big fat fail), but I don't even bother to try this week... and I get an 84.  And I really DIDN'T bother, either - it was more or less word for word out of the book with a few tiny flourishes thrown in for good measure.

 

It only shows me that people DON'T want original thought or ideas.  It only shows me that people are mindless fucking sheep, just like I've always believed.  Why should I even bother trying anymore?  I'd actually maybe get somewhere if I DIDN'T.

 

Heh, I know I sound so bitter.  I am bitter, in a way.

 

I still have the big project due this weekend.  She may as well give me my fail grade for that now because I have no idea of what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to do.

 

I'm depressed.  Can you tell?  <bitter laugh>

 

Anyway.  That's my update for the last few days.  Exciting stuff, I know.  Nothing much changes here in my cracked little head.

 

Sorry.  :p