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? 

An open letter to a drama king/queen I know. Ranty and DEFINITELY not for the faint of heart.

This is probably going to be a pretty insensitive post here, so be warned.  If you're offended at the end of it - well, too fuckin' bad, heh.  :p  Here goes.

I have an acquaintance on Eff-Bee (I don't consider this person a "friend", because I've never met them in person and only know them from a forum we'd shared once long ago) that consistently and constantly complains about - well, everything.  Now, granted, they've had it hard recently.  Their spouse cheated on them and their marriage ended up breaking up because of it.  That same spouse that cheated on them is now due alimony for the rest of their life - alimony that equals thousands of dollars a month.  In turn, this person got laid off a couple of years ago from a really prominent job, and is now down to their last unemployment check.  They also have a pretty bad problem with alcohol and drinking too much.  Sounds awful, yeah?  It is, I'll agree.

But.... (isn't there always a but in there?)....

This same person has had jobs in the last couple of years - not as prominent, and it involved a commute that was hellish to the extreme, almost a 2 hour commute each way - but still, a job.  A way to eat.  A way to put a roof over their head.  This same person has been advised to leave the state in which they live and attempt to fight their ex-spouse for alimony reduction and/or elimination.  This same person has friends that have, time and time again, offered to let them live with them, help them out, get their life back on track.  This same person has been told over and over again to quit drinking and smoking, to get themselves together.

Okay?  So the stage is set;  you now know what this person is like.  Let me get to the meat of the story here.

This same person, the one to whom I refer above, consistently gets on Eff-Bee and posts negative shit.  All the time.  Things like "if you want something from me, too FUCKING bad, suck it up, blah blah".  Or things like "I have given everything, now I'm leaving you all, goodbye", etc., etc.  Constant manipulation and drama posturing.  Not too long ago, I witnessed three friends of this person being blocked because they actually dared to tell them that they was being... what else.... a drama king/queen.  People were actually fighting on this person's profile - fighting for Chrissake.  This person self-describes themselves as "untreated bipolar" and actually takes pride in this self-diagnosis.  Pride.  This person is unemployed, has been for at least a year, but still has money to drink and smoke countless packs of cigarettes a day and travel to far-away states to indulge in a hobby - yet complains that they can't find a job.  This person complains constantly about helping their greedy, selfish ex-spouse and their greedy, selfish manipulative children and their greedy, selfish father - yet they consistently send money and act as support and go "family is everything, blah blah".  This person posts links to "meaningful songs" eight times a day - literally, I have seen this person post the same video 8 times in one day - and is practically screaming "NOTICE ME".

Well, I have noticed you.  But you're not going to like what I have to say to you.

1.  Stop threatening shit and just DO it.  You're going to disappear, leave, start a new life?  You're going to quit supporting your greedy family?  Fucking DO it and quit threatening it.  Otherwise, honey, you are all talk and no action.  It gets old after a while.  Ever hear of the story of "the boy who cried wolf"?  That's you all over.  After a while, no one is going to believe what you say or even notice it for more than anything it is right now - which is posturing.  You are so contradictory - one minute you threaten everyone who "hurts your family" and the next you're like, "they're all greedy, selfish assholes, I'm done, I'm done, I'm done".  Which is it?

2.  Just because people say things to you that you don't like, it doesn't mean they're not right.  Those three friends of yours were right - when you do contradictory things, a real friend is going to call you on your shit.  A real friend will tell you when you're wrong, because that's what they do - it means they care about your dumb ass enough to let you know, "Hey, dude, I think you need to maybe consider what you're doing."  Ever think of that?

3.  The reason you don't have a job isn't because you're over 50 years old.  The reason you don't have a job right now isn't because you're overqualified.  It's because you don't want to give up your hobby.  It's because you don't want to leave the place you're living now in order to get a job or start a life elsewhere.   It's because you don't want to realize that sometimes you have to give up the things you want in life in order to survive.  Life is about survival - something you claim to know very well, but I don't really think you do.  That job you had where you had to commute 4 hours a day - yeah, it sucked that you had to do that, but you know what?  If that's what it takes to eat, to have a roof over your head, then that's what you do.  It's not for a 50 inch TV or a fancy car that you keep crying everyone wants - it's so you can eat, have clothes on your back, and a place to lay your head.  That's what you claim you want - so get out there and do it, and don't complain if you have to do things you don't want to do.  That's called doing what you have to in order to survive.  If that means working at fucking McDonald's, then that's what you do.  

4.  Life is what YOU make of it.  If your life has been a catastrophic mess for the last X amount of years, maybe you need to sit the fuck down and think about why that is.  Nothing is ordained, okay?  You need to maybe examine your own self and see what you might be able to do to turn that around.  No one, no one, NO ONE in this life "deserves" anything and no one is going to fucking help you - the help lies in your own hands.  There is no "knight in shining armor".  There is no one that's going to ride into your life on a bright white stallion, scoop you up, and "take you away", okay?  You're on your fucking own out here.  The world is cruel, and life isn't "fair".  Get used to it.  Look at the things that you do, and say, and think, and you might find that a lot of your misery is caused by things you do... and say.... and think.

5.  As someone with long-term depression, I find it reprehensible that you believe yourself to have depression of any kind and refuse to get treatment.  As a matter of fact, I find your pride in "being unmedicated" absolutely abhorrent.  You do not realize what your actions do to people around you.  You do not realize that the things you say and do can cause incredible hurt to others.  I've seen it myself with the way you treat people, even your own children (who love you despite the shit you AND your ex-spouse have done to them).  You talk a big game about what a "real friend" does, but you know what?  A real friend doesn't tell the people who care about them to "fuck off", "suck it up", because they happen to think differently than you do.  I saw you go off on someone who had talked about buying their child a Christmas gift.  How DARE you presume to think for others?  Are you omniscient now?  Is your way the only right way to think?

I only keep you on my "friends list" because I'm waiting for the next drama-filled post of yours.  I'm waiting to see you implode, because you will if you don't fucking do something about your life.  Stop treating people like shit.  Get up off of your ass and do SOMETHING - anything.  Get a job, move away from that hellhole you call a state, start making money off of your hobby, do SOMETHING.  You've got plenty of friends left that will be more than willing to help you - that is, if you can keep from alienating them any further.  Stop crying about how your life sucks - because let me tell you something, pal - there are plenty, plenty, PLENTY of people in the world whose life sucks more than yours ever will.

Maybe try a little GRATITUDE for what you do have.  It works wonders.

End of rant.

Quick update. Very quick.

I'm tired as hell, so I'm just stopping in to let everyone know that I'm still alive.  :p  I've found out a couple of things over the last week that have pissed me off to no end (it mainly involves the situation with Recent D-bag, heh), but in truth.... it's seriously just starting to not matter to me anymore.  There was a time where such news would have crippled me for weeks.  Today, I barely gave it a thought.  Because that's how much it's worth - maybe a dismissive, "Whatthefuckever, dumbass", then on to the next thing.

Some exciting-ish news tonight, but I unfortunately can't share it yet - I've been requested to "hold back" for a while.  But it's definitely good news, and it's definitely something that I didn't expect to happen.  As soon as I get the "all clear" to share it, I surely will.

I know... mysterious!  But all will be revealed in time.

Finished my Christmas shopping today.  Christ, but it's been one expensive year.  But hey - this is so going to be worth it.  It's the first Christmas that I'll have in years that has meant anything to me.  It's the first Christmas I've not been all alone or lonely or depressed in nearly ten years.  I cannot wait for it.  As far as I'm concerned, that is priceless.

My life is going very, very well - maybe too well.  

More of an update later on when I have some time.  This weekend's going to be hellish busy, it's the last week of the winter semester and I have massive papers due.  No exams, though, thank Christ for that.

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.

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemingway

As always, I have little bits and pieces of thoughts throughout the week or during the periods of time where I don't write. Things that pop into my brain - "hey, yanno, I really should write about that" - only to have them disappear into the ether. What I should do is write them down as they occur to me, but even if I do (and I've tried), I usually decide that it's not really worth expounding upon later, for the most part.

You'd never know that I actually used to write on a creative level when I was younger. Not by the disjointed posts you see here today, anyway. I'd love to get back into that, but I don't feel that I have enough talent to do it, or originality to be honest. When I go back over the few writing pieces of mine that exist today (mainly really bad poetry on Literotica and the like), I cringe with complete embarrassment. That's usually a sign that I'm not cut out for the writing scene, heh.

Just that I'm thinking about trying to start again, though... that's as close to "normal" as I can ever remember being. Writing used to be my passion, what I lived for, and I might have had a shot at it if it hadn't been for a really painful experience when I was younger.

Yes, folks, here it comes. I'm purging yet another painful memory. Get ready.

Between the time I was about, oh I'll say sixteen or so, and nineteen... I was ass-deep in the writing of a book, an actual book. It doesn't matter what it was about now - something about a smart-alecky cat traveling the country having Kerouac-like adventures - but it was really, really good, or so I thought. I'd written, written, rewritten, revised, gotten critical opinions, revised again... etc. I was actually going to try and publish the damned thing, more fool me. At nineteen, I had a lot of dreams, still.

To make a long story short, the asshole that I was with at the time was abusive - in body, mind and spirit. This is the only douchebag that ever dared to hit me on a physical level, and to this day I don't know why I ever stayed with him - I guess I was conditioned to take that abuse, just like I was conditioned in childhood to accept emotional abuse and neglect.

This asshole, in a fit of rage, ripped up my book. The only copy I had. You see, there were no computers accessible back then to the general public - you had to have serious money to afford one in those days, which I didn't have. So... no copies. No way to get anything back. He took each page, and deliberately ripped it in halves, quarters, eighths. Scattered them all around the rooms. It was a big, huge, hurtful "Fuck you, bitch - you're nothing. Your so-called "talent" is shit."

I cried for weeks. That crushed my spirit like nothing else could have. At nineteen, something profound died within me. I've never been able to retrieve it since. Not ever. I have never written a word on a creative level since. Only bad, inept, stuttering poetry that is a fraction of the ability I used to have. Something inside of me still hears that limpdick's voice, echoing that sentiment. "I'm nothing. I'm shit."

Isn't that awful?

It doesn't matter how many people tell me differently, either. I just can't seem to get over that one thing, the destruction of something that I poured my heart and soul into for almost 4 years of my life. I guess you just had to be there to understand the depth of the pain.

Just the fact that I'm thinking about writing again, or even trying is a huge, huge positive sign that maybe I'm returning to the young, idealistic woman I used to be. Believe it or not... I did have hopes and dreams once, underneath all of this hurt and all of the tears I've cried incessantly since I was old enough to walk, pretty much.

Ugh, tears again. Always more tears. But it means I'm healing, doesn't it? Even if it seems to take absolutely forever.

I'm finally accepting the hurt, the pain, the fact that I endured abuse heaped onto yet more abuse. I'm finally getting that it happened and that I can't pretend it didn't and that I can't change it. But when am I going to get to forgiveness? I'm conscious that forgiveness is for myself, a way to keep people out of my head and heart... I'm getting that, too. But when is that going to happen? Am I going to carry all of this darkness within me forever?

Questions, questions, yet more questions. I want answers, damn it.

Heh, I can hear Greg's voice in my head now going, "Paaaaayyyy-shence."

Quick update on the rest of my life, here:
- Greg and I are doing wonderfully fine. Now past the 5-month mark and counting down to half a year. Hard to believe that this wonderful man is still with me, despite all. <3
- I just won the annual incentive workplace award, again, for the third year in a row. Which essentially now means that I'm set for life here, should I want to be. Not that I want to take urine for the rest of my life, that's for sure.
- School is in full swing again. This time I'm taking film history (wonderfully fun) and public safety policy (boooooring, yawn). Semester ends December 18th, hopefully I'll pull good marks.
- My wrist is more or less out of the soft cast (though it's not supposed to be yet, but I can't stand wearing the fucking thing one more day). It aches, it's VERY stiff in the mornings, but that's the way it goes. It's liveable. I can deal with it.

And that's it, for now, I guess.

Cheers from the verbal vomitorium. :p

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

So far, 2011 has been a suck year....

...at least on the health front, anyway. For once, it's not mental or anything connected with depression.

I've had a horrible case of vertigo for the last couple of days. I went to my vision doctor today to see if it had anything to do with my glasses, but it doesn't. Which means that I either have a viral infection (possible) or high blood pressure (possible, but unlikely).

If I have a viral infection, I got it - where else - from the fuckheads at work.

I'm getting really tired of catching these assmonkeys' diseases. Everything that I've been sick with in the last three years, I've caught from either my coworkers or the crackheads. It's getting fucking old, man.

Anyhow. What else is new, heh.

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.

Starting to wind down.

The end of the year is fast approaching, and I've actually been ruminating over my annual "how did I do this year" post a bit early. Oh, I'm not going to do it right now, obviously. But I find it striking that I'm actually thinking about it this soon. I suspect that I'm very eager to "shut the books", if you will, and get on with this business of living for myself in '11. Some might say that this is a positive thing, my looking ahead, and I tend to concur that it is. I'm definitely in a much better place than I have been in some time.

My tenure with urine is about to come to an end, starting on January 3rd. All of the female testers will move to another unit - however, I shall not be going with them, at least that's what I'm hearing. The plan is that I shall stay at my current unit and do strictly computer work. To be honest, I'm not at all sorry about it. I've dealt with enough piss to fill a small lake over the years, and there are times where the women are so much more worse than the men, both in attitude and in personal hygiene. It's not all going to be peaches and cream, though: I still have to deal with the males while on the computer, and they tend to be nasty as well, but I won't have to deal with their body fluids - I can't ask for more than that. I'm hoping and praying that these next two weeks will go speedily.

The semester, for me, is over. I have exams this upcoming Wednesday. As usual, I'm not really feeling anxiety over them, though to be honest I haven't studied. I'm really weird about classes - I'll agonize over the actual work, but when it comes to taking tests, I don't feel much nervousness. I guess that's because I figure that I'll either know the material by then, or I won't. Not much to beat myself up over, I suppose. Anyhow, I'm profoundly relieved, because this past semester was difficult in a lot of respects. I have about six months off now, though, or at least until May, so I could definitely use the rest. I plan on getting this house together now that I've received my tax credit, spend a little time getting my life back together again.

I've decided not to go to New York for the new year, at least not this time - the reason being that I made my decision a little too late. I really need time to plan this out, not just go on the spur of the moment - especially with the terrorism threat level being so high right now. There's going to be more security up there than Fort Knox, and I'm not prepared to deal with it. I was thinking about going up on the night train, but from what I hear, Times Square is full by 4pm, and I'm not prepared to stand out in the freezing cold for 8 hours without getting things together. So I'm going to skip it this time, maybe I'll go next year. Or maybe for Thanksgiving, as I've always wanted to see the Macy's parade in person. I'll have to actually remember to mark it down, though, as I tend to forget until the holidays roll around again. Then I sit on my sofa that morning and say to myself, "Y'know, I think I'll do this... if I can remember." Hah. My mind's like a sieve, bleh.

I do plan on traveling a little more next year, even if it is just on the spur of the moment. Hop a train to New York and go shopping for the day, etc. I really need to start doing these things!

I've lost 4.2 pounds. I know, not a huge deal, but it is for me. I'm actively trying to lose weight now - that's yet another of my goals for '11. I'm not going to call these things "resolutions", because the minute I do that, I know it'll go by the wayside, and this is just too important to me, enough so that I'm honestly trying to do something about it instead of talking about it. Maybe I'll report on this week by week - that way I'll have some kind of a record and some kind of accountability to myself. Though I'm not going to put my starting weight. Oh, hell, no. Maybe if I ever get to where I want to be, I'll share that with you all so that your mouths will drop and you'll go "ZOMG we're so proud of you". Wouldn't that be something? :p

I'm a talkative soul this morning, but I have to run. I'm heading to Lowe's today to pick up some necessities for the house, like a ladder, a snow shovel, shit I'm going to need this winter. Just realized that if there's a blizzard this year, I have to clean off the entire corner. Sucks to be me. Meh.

Well, not really. :D

Peace, out.

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.

Songs that make me absolutely sick.

I was watching VH-1 Classic this morning (often something I do when there is absolutely nothing on the tube - it's amazing, I have DirecTV satellite and yet out of 500+ channels there's still zero airing that isn't dreck), and they were having a "Totally 80's" block. (Shut. the. fuck. up. It's my generation, damn it, so kiss my round red ass.) Anyway... they were playing mostly good stuff, but there are some tunes from that era that were disgustingly "feel good, positive, chin up, happy happy" bullshit. Since the 80's were basically not a very happy period of time for me as a rule, those songs tend to make me want to vomit.

Unfortunately, some of them are making a comeback. Why, I could not tell you.

I now present some of the most disgusting tunes ever made - at least in my opinion. The videos are included, though why you would ever watch them, I have no idea. I know I won't be. (Note: they're not all from the 80's, but for some reason that decade was the most nauseating...)

1.) Katrina & The Waves - "Walking On Sunshine"




This is the video that got me thinking about this whole subject. I mean, come on. First of all, those three guys walking behind this bitch look anything but happy to be in this silly, sad video. And it's common knowledge that "the Waves" aren't nearly as important in this act as "Katrina", whom I suppose is pretty enough but quite frankly looks like she's singing about her girlfriend, if you know what I mean. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, but let's face it, those tennis shoes of hers don't make her look real feminine, know what I'm saying?) Second, if you're going to be doing a video about sunshine - pick a sunny day and not a foggy, gray rainmaker. Though the shots of the bridge in London are a nice touch. It does occur to me that it could be a statement of irony, but I honestly don't think that was the intention - they don't look intelligent enough for it.

2.) Bobby McFerrin - "Don't Worry (Be Happy)"



This is the song that is on my all-time shit list. Don't worry? Is this guy fucking nuts? It's obvious this asshole has never suffered with depression or has even heard of it. Plus that guy going "whoo-hoo-hoo" in the bridge makes me want to curl my nails into his throat and rip it out - Jesus, how irritating. This video is actually cut off in the middle of the song - which for me is sweet fucking relief. I think this one actually vaults above Miss Katrina up there for the "most fucking annoying" award. The real kicker about this song is - this douchebag doesn't even give you a reason why you shouldn't worry about things. Just unbridled, unthinking optimism. That's how people get hurt, motherfucker. Sad thing is, this dick laughed all the way to the bank with people's money. I guess he doesn't have to worry about shit, now does he?


3.) Fleetwood Mac - "Don't Stop"



It absolutely breaks my heart to have to put Fleetwood Mac on this list, because I've always liked them so much, especially the tracks "Dreams" and "Rhiannon", which are nothing short of beautiful. But this song is an abomination. The lyrics - ugh. "Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone." Thanks for reminding me, assholes. I already regret that I've lost so much of my life to depression, I really don't need a reminder that I've wasted yet another day because I can't manage to hold my head up without sobbing my heart out. Jerks. My only consolation is that maybe Christine McVie and Lindsey Buckingham were LSD-tripping when they wrote this - I could possibly forgive them.

4.) Lee Ann Womack - "I Hope You Dance"



This bitch just...doesn't... get it. It's obvious that this song is for people that have never had one thing go wrong in their lives - that or fools, because you would be a fucking idiot to be that frigging optimistic. Thanks, but I will sit this out and be glad to do so, because I'm of the real world. What a douche. And so obviously trying to cater to the "girly-girl", the so-called "sisterhood", blah blah. Such a joke. I won't even get into that subject, because that's another rant altogether.

5.) Johnny Nash - "I Can See Clearly Now"



"I can see clearly now, the man's insane!
I can see all the bullshit that's in his way....
Gone is the common sense I thought he had,
He's going to sing a dumb (dim), dense (thick) piece of crap song!"

Heh, no doubt there'll be a part two....

An update to the blog. Unfortunate, but necessary.

I was going through my blog this evening, cleaning up fragments of drafts and whatnot, when I noticed that there were 26 comments on one very old post, and 74 on another. We're talking about posts from as old as July of last year. I knew then that the comment spammers had hit once again.

I had set this blog to not allow unmoderated comments past 2 weeks. But unfortunately, the spammers are clever and have somehow got around this limit, so... unfortunately, I will now have to set all comments as being moderated and I will have to approve them before they are posted. It irritates me to have to do this. I'm not anyone's mother to be approving what people say beforehand.

But, unfortunately, I also do not have time to be cleaning up after these motherfuckers. It took me an hour just to clean up the 74 comment post. These idiots are truly, indeed, idiotic - I don't have 74 fucking friends that would leave comments on this thing. I'm lucky if I have 5 people reading this, heh! In any case, such as it is, I need to turn the comment moderation on, and I'm truly a.) irritated by the fact that I have to do so and b.) sorry for the inconvenience.

Please don't let this discourage you all from posting comments, should you have any. I read this blog every day and check up on it, so your comments will go through fairly fast AND uncensored - no worries on that score.

I am, however, making a suggestion to Blogger tonight that they allow the ability to delete unwanted comments en masse. It is ridiculous that it took me 60 minutes to clean up ONE post. Thank Christ that it wasn't worse.

Why these oozing assholes think people want their crappy Cialis and Accutane through the mail is beyond my comprehension or understanding, heh.

Cheers.

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

A mish-mash of jumbled thoughts all wrapped into one pretty package.

I've been snowed in over here for the last week. Haven't had to work or deal with drug addicts or urine for nearly 7 days now. However, during the course of this massive storm, I've had to check every day for the operating status of the gubmint - there's a special website we go to in order to know whether we're open or closed - and in the course of reading several federal-related blogs, I've come across sentiments like these below:

"Those of us who work for a living are honored to support your lazy butt staying in bed...it isn't as if you woulda done anything had you been there!

Yep, what we need is bigger Government!"

(Taken from The Federal Eye, 2/10/09)

Or...

"The federal workers who had a day off today should have been required to shovel snow."

Or this little gem here...

"The Federal Government -- great "work" (and I'm using that term very loosely-- if you can get it. For us poor schmucks out in the occupied provinces who have to pick up the tab, it's not so good."

Okay. This is all I've got to say about this bullshit above -

1.) I'd telework if I could do so, but it's a little difficult taking urine over the Internet. If anyone's got a way to do this, bring it on and let me know, because I'd have rather worked than spent this entire week snowbound at home. It's not like I could get out of my house, anyway.

2.) The Washington Metro subway isn't running. Neither are the MARC trains. What do people expect me to do, walk from Baltimore? It's not happening. I can't even get down to Calvert Street, never mind D.C. If the public transportation doesn't run, neither do I. You tell me what to do, should I hang on to the back of a fucking snowplow?

3.) If you had to work all this week in a snowstorm, blame your employer - not me. I don't set your hours. If it were up to me, I'd let everyone have a free week off, pay you, the whole deal. This wasn't a vacation for me. I spent 3 out of the last 7 days going stir fucking crazy in this house - I know I've had at least one depressive attack, if not more. So as far as I'm concerned, those who are complaining can shove it up their asses.

This has been the biggest snowstorm.. well, ever. This is unprecedented. We here in Baltimore/D.C. are not used to this bullshit, this isn't Minnesota. People should not expect us to know what to do in a situation like this, because it's never happened. We just have no clue about how to cope.

In other news... I'm upset about my checking account. Some company on the Internet decided to pluck my debit card number out of thin air and run 320 dollars' worth of charges on my account. That was pretty much my entire paycheck for the next 2 weeks, so I'm needless to say furious. I've disputed the charges, of course, but since this is my checking account, I literally have no money until the next payday. In some ways, I'm lucky that I didn't have to work this week, because I'd be in serious trouble if I had. My debit card is my lifeline, literally, and the fact that I had to cancel it, that is also a source of fury. I knew that number backward and forward to the point where I didn't even need the actual card itself. Now I have to memorize a whole new number - good luck with that.

I'm working it out, but in the meantime I'm fucked. I will say one thing - do not, do not, do not do any business with a place called Digital River - they're somewhere in the wilds of fucking Minnesota. Apparently they handle some antivirus shit. I don't need such services, so I know damned well these charges are unfuckingauthorized. But I'll get it taken care of. I've reported them to the BBB, too. Let's see how they enjoy that little piece of news.

I did, however, pay off a good chunk of my debts this week. I'm not sure of how much credit-to-debit ratio I have now, but I know it's under 40%. That's good. That's VERY good.

Anyway, hopefully they'll clear these streets up soon so I can get out of here for a while. I don't really want to go back to work, but if they do call open tomorrow, it'll be okay - it's Friday. Won't be much going on.

No word on the crim grades yet. Doing well in the math course, surprisingly. And the IFSM is disgustingly easy. So far.

Okay, that's it for now. Nothing else doing.

A strange kind of peace.

It's weird, but the last few days I've been feeling pretty good. I went out bowling today and hit the best game of my life (129... okay, so that's not awesome or anything but for me, it's the best I've ever done, so fuck you, heh)... then saw "Sherlock Holmes", which was okay at best (in my opinion, anyway. Robert Downey Jr. did do the title role well, I'll admit). Had a great sushi dinner at XS on Friday night. And watched the Ravens game on Saturday night, where they played horribly (did they deserve to lose that game, or what, ugh).

During the course of this busy weekend, I've realized that... I've not had a chance to be depressed, or upset, or anything. I can't remember when I've felt better, for all that.

I think that I'm truly beginning to let go of certain demons that have plagued me. How do I feel about that? Honestly... in some ways I'm sad that things never worked out in retrospect, I feel like I've wasted a lot of time and energy on certain situations (especially career-wise, I can't get that back). But at the same time... I'm no longer bothered by a lot of things, either. I can think of certain people that I was particularly disturbed by now and I'm just like... oh. Or 'whatever'. Sort of "who gives a fuck", which is a good attitude to have about people you don't like, heh. I'm getting healthier and stronger by the day, in my head. At least, I feel that right now. Whether it's true.... well. I don't want to jump to conclusions, I've been that route before.

But I do feel stronger today, anyway. Tired.. but stronger.

Anyway, I just wanted to post a quick update while I had the time to do so. School starts again on Tuesday... between that and the double shifts, I just may never write again, heh. (Not.)

Cheers.

Slowly on the mend.

The cold/flu/virus/whatever it is I had has come back, but I'm fighting it off with antibiotics and painkillers, what's left of the prescriptions that the doctor gave me. It was absolute hell waking up this morning, but the sore throat that was on fire earlier in the day has calmed down to the level of an annoyance in the background. Still, I am one miserable-feeling chick right about now. I'm hoping that I don't need to go back to the doctor and take more time off, because I don't have but 3 days' worth of sick time and they're starting to monitor these things down at work because of, apparently, "some people's excessive habits of using leave". Well, gee whiz Cholly, can we all guess who they're talking about? It surely isn't me.

Verizon's trying to hit me for a 700 dollar bill from when I disconnected the Fios in Towson. Major problem, but it won't be one much longer, because I'm disputing it. I hate this bullshit that these companies try to pull on me - first Target, now these people. I'll be damned if I'm going to get financially screwed for their fuckup. But we'll see.

Oddly, I'm calm today. I've not felt mentally well for a couple of weeks now, but today is a different story. I hope that I can get through the rest of the day, though, as it's Tuesday and the lab is, as usual, a madhouse. For once, Useless is actually helping me out though. We had a staff meeting yesterday and she was seriously called out for not assisting when needed - it felt good for a rare change that someone was sticking up for me. They've been consistently asking me if I need help, too, so... one point for me. May it continue to last.

Ocean City trip happens in 10 days. I really am looking forward to just getting away, even if it is by myself. Maybe this will be a good thing, just to take time for myself and evaluate where I am, what's going on, how I want things to be. New start, after all, the new year is coming up. It'll be time for a reflective post pretty soon, huh... not that a great deal really happened, but you know how that goes, traditional and all that bullshit.

It promises to be a busy night, so I'm closing this out for now... but I feel calmer right now than I have since Thanksgiving. It's a blessed relief.

Whoo, brother.

This week is going to suck at work.

Thanks, that is all.

An open letter to the people I serve at work. Part II.

This is in continuation of the original letter that I had written in August. Now that the holidays are here, you and I need to get a few more things straight, Mr. or Ms. D.C. Drug Addict. Ready? I just know you are.

1.) There's a reason behind everything we ask you. When we tell you to hang your coats up on the hooks outside the bathroom door - do it. Don't give us an argument about how all of the money you own is in the pockets - if you're smart, you wouldn't announce that anyway - or how you're worried about someone stealing it. It's not possible, the hall is videotaped. The fact is, coats aren't allowed in the bathrooms. Deal with it.

2.) Do NOT assume we have public toilets. Do NOT come into this unit and just barge your way back into the bathrooms. This is not a public facility. If you're not testing, or being escorted, you need to find a bathroom elsewhere. Stay the fuck out of ours. I had one lady who was scared shitless because one of you idiots barged right in on her while she's trying to wipe herself, for fuck's sake. If you're not testing, you don't belong back there - STAY OUT.

3.) Don't dump your shit all over the counter. If I give you a paper to sign, it means you're finished with my part of the process. It does NOT mean that you then dump a bag of 19, 20 medications out in front of me and expect me to write them down. You are supposed to show me your medications BEFORE you sign, not after. If I have to write down all of your medications (which can take up to 20 minutes depending on how much you take), it means I have to start the whole sign-in process from the beginning. I am not inclined to do this, nor will I take kindly to you if I'm forced to do it. Show me your medications when you first come in here. It'll make it easier for both of us.

4.) Communicate properly. I speak English and very limited Spanish. I do NOT speak "Mumble". When you come up to me, speak clearly and intelligbly. Don't expect me to understand what you're saying if you come up going "nonfivetreesicktoofoh". The last I heard, the number 9 was pronounced "nine", 4 is "four" and not "foh". I understand about accents, but this shit I'm hearing from you all borders on another language, and I don't speak it. So make an effort and make sense.

5.) Control your crotchfruit. I understand that a lot of you have children. I also understand that sometimes you're not going to have people to watch them and you have to drag them with you into the unit, as sad as that is. That's fine. But if you do bring them in here - CONTROL them. The benches are not there to be jumped off of, nor are the line posts there to be played with. This is not a playground. If your precious darling busts their head open, that's your fault for not watching them, not ours, though I'm sure you'll try to sue us anyway. Gotta get your drug money from somewhere, right?

I'm sure more will come up, eventually, but this will do for part 2, anyway. And as an aside to my coworkers - get a fucking life, most of you are just as idiotic as the "customers".

Rant over.