I let dad and stepmonster take Spook on an outing yesterday so I could put in a few hours at the shop. R came by later and rigged my TV to pull in  a couple of freebie digital channels. Nothing exciting, but I get the weather report now and have background noise. I appreciate him doing it for me, too. Now if only you could get freebie wifi…I reiterate: WHY MUST I LIVE IN THE ONE TRAILER PARK ON EARTH WHERE THE PEOPLE ARE SMART ENOUGH TO LOCK DOWN THEIR WIFI????? Judging by the things left out on trash day, I’m pretty much the only sober person (relatively) person living here and still, they know to buy the best security routers and lock it down? REALLY?

Of course, R would beg to differ on the sobriety issue, since he considers his beer almost negligible in alcohol content versus the vodka I so love. Difference is, I don’t drink 96 ounces every single night and get a bug up my ass when I don’t have any to drink. But, hey, he now embraces his functional alcoholism, which means he’s made a lot of progress and done a lot of personal growing since we were together.

Last night I just sat home, fixed pork chops, and watched the last two episodes of American Horror Story. Was trippy as hell. (We won’t discuss how those episodes ended up on my hard drive.)

R is big on the stand up comedy, as is Mark, so I was watching some Jeff Dunham on DVD this morning, one I borrowed from Mark. It was pretty funny, considering I am pretty put off by ventriloquism. That guy, however, is good. The old guy puppet, Walter, has given me a line I am going to use every month until menopause robs me of the right. “I jumped on my menstrual cycle and ran ‘em all down.”
TOO FUNNY.

Also funny, and likely to land me on some government watch list based on key words, was a Christopher Titus stand up skit about terrorism. He was talking about how you have sunk really low, as a terrorist group, when you start using liquor advertising in your propaganda publications. “ABSOLUT JIHAD!” OMG, that made me laugh sooo hard.

I gotta say, I am now remembering why I spent so much of my time without a boyfriend/husband/significant other.
MEN ARE FUCKING SLIMEBALLS.
Not all, but most. They treat women like little more than objects to either be rudely lusted over, or rudely critiqued for every physical flaw.
I am sooo sick of R and Kenny carrying on about ewww, fat chicks and ugly chicks and how this chick is hot and fuckable and they’d “take a crack at her.”
First off, neither of them are exactly svelte and without a beer gut.
Second, fat comments around someone like me who is rather fluffy, are just fucking rude.
Third, women are not just objects to be microscoped for flaws or used as fodder for masturbatory material.
THIS is exactly why I have spent much of my life alone, just being friends with guys, because I have zero desire to be critiqued or objectified and disrespected. I am a human being, with a mind, a heart, a soul. (VIVA FEMINAZI!!)
And NO, I am not a lesbian. I am strongly attracted to guys. Well, occasionally a real guy but mostly just the unobtainable eye liner wearing long haired vampire types. Non fictional guys are too much trauma and drama.
I just really want to be respected and I think I am worthy of it, and I am not getting a lot of that from the flesh and blood men, so allow me to fantasize about the ones who don’t exist but are well written.
The fact that 80% of men, even the so called nice guys, have so little respect for women, pisses me the fuck off. And just because a woman is fluffy doesn’t make her any less attractive,if you judge by more than appearance. Sadly, there seem to be few people who have that kind of depth.

Today is Sunday. Spook and I ran some errands. I am waiting for her to nap so we can go to mom’s and I can use the wifi. So far, the nap thing isn’t happening. I am watching Scary Movie yet again, because it always makes me laugh. I wish I had gotten a copy of Vampires Suck when I had the money, but oh well…Maybe one day when I get a winning bid on that auction of my left kidney…

Now…for a couple of funny things. I find things on my various hard drives all the time and I forget I even had them.
And working with R at the shop has inspired me to do some mock product advertisements.

And my snarky wallpaper I made

On the plus side, my daughter said “I love you” to me for the first time yesterday. Talk about my heart swelling to the size of the Goodyear blimp. She’s a handful and I get frustrated and want to eat my young…but I would not change a thing or trade her for anything.

Being ditched so unceremoniously by my husband might have destroyed me completely…were it not for needing to be Spook’s mom.

But then, that was always the problem. I could never be as devoted to a man as I am to my child. I thought that’s how it’s supposed to be.

I told R what the donor said about “my psyche just isn’t strong enough to handle some of the things you say”…and EVEN HE SAID, “HOW FRAGILE CAN YOU BE?” So it wasn’t just me being overly critial. My estranged hubby has some serious issues of his own. As evidenced when I told R flat out, “Ya know, that was one of the most irritating things about you, how you shove your interests down everyone’s throat but can’t make the time or effort to take an interest in the things they like. Your stepdaughter even said so.” And he seemed genuinely shocked and said, “I guess I will have to work on that.”

OMG,I SAID THE SAME THINGS TO THE DONOR AND HE ACTED LIKE IT WAS A CHARACTER ASSASINATION AND I SHOULD BURN IN HELL. Grow the fuck up.

But he made it abundantly clear he’s happy ignoring pretty much everything about his own issues and behavior so he can joke and delude himself through life.

It makes me sad.

If R and I could remain friends in spite of a painful break up and we were never even married and didn’t have a kid together…

It makes me think the Donor not only never loved me, but he also never considered me a friend or had any respect for me whatsoever. I was always deeply disturbed by the fact he rarely called me by my name. It was always “Baby” or “Honey”, some sort of depersonalization, like I wasn’t worthy of a name or identity. I guess that sort of detachment is necessary to feed your own self delusions.

I know I am better off without him because he showed his true colors…

It does not, however, lessen my feelings of sadness about how he handled the whole thing. I want to be angry with him, and sometimes, I am.

Mostly, I just feel sorry for him.

No medication on Earth is going to correct what is wrong with him.

Sadder still is his ability to deny plain evidence that says he is not a good man.

I think I would rather be emotionally wonky than completely self deluded. The fact that I interact with others exactly as I did him, and their responses are completely opposite of his tells me I was nowhere near being the beast he made  me out to be. It was partially me, but it was him,too.

I will give him his due, though. I wanted a child more than anything, and he gave me my child. He obviously has problems he can’t face, let alone deal with, so it is best for us to not be near each other. After all, his psyche isn’t strong enough to take the things I say and my psyche isn’t weak enough to stop being honest about the way I feel.

I just honestly hope one day reality smacks him upside the head and makes him realize what an utterly hypocritical horrid being he is. It’s not fatal, you can make changes and become a better person and try to make up for past bad behavior. I am living proof of this. You have to face that which makes you less,though, before you can become more. That will never happen for the Donor, and it makes me pity him.

And if anyone cares to enlighten me on how I am being unfair and not seeing his side…please do so.

Because there is NO FUCKING WAY ON EARTH I WILL EVER BE CONVINCED BY ANYONE THAT A MAN DESERTING HIS CHILDREN IS ACCEPTABLE.

And breaking up A MARRIAGE with a phone call?

What is he, 49 going on 14?

Make no mistake though. I really truly wished he had handled things in a way that would have let us be friends and let him be part of his child’s life.

Even when telling me he thought we should split, not once did he tell the truth about why. Had he told me he didn’t love me or had found someone else, that would have been it. Straight up. I am second to no one and a man is not worth fighting over.

And therein was the biggest problem.

He can’t take the truth so he can’t tell the truth.

I can’t take the lies so I don’t sugar coat and tell lies.

I am angry and have vengeful  moments.

Mostly…I am just saddened by it all.

sad, sad, sad. so sad.

Seeing how R and I get along in spite of our split, how in tact a friendship can remain…it makes me even sadder that Hubby decided to handle things the way he did. It didn’t have to be that way.

The truth would have hurt way less-and pissed me off way less- than the way he chose to handle things.

Oh,well. Least when I woke this morning, it was with a smile. Willow and Bella were laying on the bed, snoozing with me. That made me very happy.

Monday-
R asked me to come into the shop before I had to run his friend’s wife to the train station out of town,so I did. I was in a totally depressed mood about all this stuff with hubby. I was not good company that day. (I blame the monthly curse for making me weak and teary.)
I did,however, manage to pick up D and get her to the train station without a car crash. Not to say the rushing four lanes of traffic didn’t freak me out, I came close to melting down on the way home because I didn’t know where the fuck I was going…But I managed.And though this was only the second time I had actually interacted with the woman, she gave me a hug as I was dropping her off. I was…floored.
R came by that night, irritated by his wife. (Visiting me seems to be his act of rebellion when they fight.) It was sweet watching how he interacted with Spooky. He showed more patience and sparkle eyed affection for her in an hour than I think her father did in three years. She was delighted, R was delighted, and this in turn delighted me. She needs a positive male role model in her life. R is decent. He has always been an amazing dad to his kids, so as far as role models go, he’s a good one for her to have.He told me he envies me because he misses having little ones around. That makes me smile. Kid people versus non kid people. I can’t imagine my life without her.

Tuesday-
My presence was again requested at the shop. I was able to appear until 1pm when I had to see the job lady, followed by sunshine spewing counselor. My mood was slightly better that day but it was still stressful because I spent five hours at the shop helping him, then two hours at my appointments, then I went and helped Nancy with her computer for an hour and a half and I had to run to the grocery store then pick up Spook…I understand keeping busy can be a good thing, but for someone as easily overwhelmed as I am, those kind of busy days are uber taxing.

Wednesday-
Vegetating day. Didn’t leave the lot. Did housework, played with Spook.

Thursday-

One of those uber stressful days I almost canceled on because I was freaking out. We took the bus (paid for by her medical card) to her dr appt out of town. She did well on the ride up there. Once in the doctor’s office, Spook began to channel satan to a degree I have never seen before. She had tantrums left and right, screamed, shrieked, hit, kicked, headbutted, and thrashed around like a maniac.
And I didn’t know how to handle it, because she rarely ever acts that bad.
The nurse and doctor had this attitude like I should be doing something about her behavior, but nothing I said or did was changing anything. She wasn’t scared, she was mad that they made her stop playing with the toys to have the eye exam. Trying to hold her for that was worthy of hazard pay. She headbutted me in the chin six times, I was holding her with both my arms and legs, and she was still kicking my ass with her temper.
I never wanted to call The Donor at his work and scream at him more than I did that day. HOW DARE HE FUCKING DUMP ALL THIS ON ME!
She was so horrible, at one point, in the waiting room, she threw a toy train at a baby carrier. Just lucky the baby wasn’t in it at the time. My temper told  me she needed a good spanking. My logic told me that would do no good. My societal filter reminded me that if you even give a kid a dirty look these days, someone can turn you in and get you investigated by family services. I’ve never felt my hands so tied before in my life.
Thing is, once we were back on the bus, she was the perfect child. Even the driver commented on what a good baby she is. Hard to reconcile with that violent Tasmanian devil child I’d just had kick my ass.
Two and half hours, no soda, no smoke, and a kid channeling satan while health care professionals frowning upon my parenting skills…To say it was stressful is an understatement.
But I still took her to mom’s when I got back and went to help R at his shop the rest of the day.
Which oddly enough, was his wife’s idea. He apparently has some sort of snafu with the IRS and needs to get his paperwork and receipts sorted out but he can’t do that and repair things at the same time…so she suggested he bring me in.
WOW.
Oh,well, not like I was gonna go away anyway. Not in my nature to let anyone tell me what I can or can’t do.
Plus, his mom came in for a few minutes and she commented on how good it was to see me, and even blew me a kiss and touched my hand as she was leaving. His mom always did like me.
After I was done at the shop, I went to his friend Mark’s house, he let me pick out some movies to watch from his collection and thanked me again for getting his wife to the train station.
Sometimes, I think the only person in R’s circle who didn’t like me much was R himself.

The fact I remembered all three of his daughter’s birthdays and got his wrong might have something to do with it. I was pretty wrapped up on his kids after that first year, not so much in him.

Um…

MY BAD?

Not much to say, so I thought I would post some pix. I am amidst the chaos at my mom’s, so it’s not like I can think straight anyway with people yelling and hovering over my shoulder and my kid rampaging and my nephew having tantrums because my kid is rampaging. Blah. On the good things list, Eleven returned home this morning, apparently having been roving with a gang of stray cats outside for a couple of days.

Me and Spookster.

Spooky riding her cow, er I mean, horse.

Little Miss Smiley.

The coolest fucking thing EVER, miniature voodoo dolls in the machine at Pizza Hut.

Not the coolest thing ever is I didn’t even have 75 cents to get one, I was just there picking up R’s lunch.

And finally….Eleven, covering her eyes, because life is too horrid to look at.

My stepmonster actually brought me a blue and white rose for my birthday. She’s always been pretty thoughtful that way, even giving me flowers for Mother’s Day long before I was anything but a cat mom.
The little things carry a lot of weight with me.
Like the cards mom and my sis got for me. My dad always considered cards a waste of money. I keep them as memories.
Because things mean something to me, big things, small things, all things.
==================
Monthly curse…

I was not a bundle of motivated energy today. I had planned on being exactly that, running errands…but cramps and achiness and general exhaustion secured my ass at home the whole day. I even curled up on the couch while Spook napped and napped briefly myself. That’s how you know when I am wiped out, when I can nap during the day. And every month, I have  a couple of wiped out days, courtesy of that bitch Mother Nature.
===============
Chilled to the bone…

I could not get warm for the life of me this afternoon. I even had my skull snuggie wrapped around me in addition to three layers of clothes. It wasn’t even that cold outside. I’m starting to think seasonal affect disorder makes the cold settle into your bones.
============
After dad’s faction visited, though, I did make myself get up, put in some laundry, vacuum, do dishes, and fix supper for me and Spook.
Now…for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow…run the errands I failed to do today.
Happy 39th birthday to me, yay.
Then onto another week of trying to stay afloat and survive whatever wrenches life tosses at me.
==============
I miss…

Eleven. I am worried now, it’s been two days. She’s never vanished for this long. I worry the resident brat spawns may have hurt her, or the resident gun toters,or the maniac drivers who don’t slow down for speed bumps…
She became a part of the family and now without her here, it feels…wrong.
I keep opening the door,looking out, calling for her…and nothing.
My soul is sad.
================
I love…

that my kid is digging that new Korn song as much as I am. She really gets to dancing and rocking out when I play it now. She also likes the new Evanescance. I have a rock and roll baby.
===============
Blah…

Tis time to snuggle up in my warm bed and recharge. Facing the cold and stores tomorrow does not enthuse me. Then I must go to mom’s zoo to use the wifi. I am not overjoyed.
And if those fucking neighbor dogs don’t shut up, I swear I am gonna accidentally toss some seroquel laden pork chops out the back door into their pen.
Not that I am cranky or anything.
===============

Spook came running into the living room crying bloody murder the other day and she kept pointing to her room and saying over and over, ‘cow! cow! cow!” I couldn’t think of a single toy in her room that was a cow. I went in to see what the problem was…and her toy horse grandpa got her was on its side…and she wanted me to sit the “cow” up.
It was too funny.
====================
It takes great skill…

to nearly choke to death on your own hair, as I nearly did today. I got one long strand trapped in my throat from the wind whipping it about, and I spent twenty minutes coughing, trying to get my throat clear. R asked if I was going to be okay and I said, “For my next act, I will cough up a lung.”
Nothing to do but laugh at yourself when  these “I’m an idiot” moments occur.
==================
That’s my spawn…

I am amazed by how many words Spook is picking up on. Even as I write this, she is pointing into her Dora coloring book and saying “Treasure”. And the picture is of a treasure chest, not exactly the sort of thing any of the people she knows has laying around.
She’s smnart. (Only Becca will get that inside joke.)
====================
The other day…

when I went to pick my kid up at mom’s my 13 year old nephew said, “You’re pretty, Aunt Niki.” Um…okay, thank you.
It’s flattering…
but with him, two minutes later, his mood will shift and he will tell you that you are hideous.
But no, mental illness doesn’t run in families, at all.
==================
ice crystals on my spleen…

Twas another gray cold day here in the ninth circle of hell, aka the midwest. I spent the day at the shop and by day’s end, I was so frozen, I didn’t even have the will to run my errands or even grab my cake vodka. I just went and got my kid and came home to thaw my organs. We’re supposedly about to get hit with some bad weather.
I’m overjoyed.
NOT.
===================
Pretty on the outside…

does NOT mean pretty on the inside. I am finding this applies to people, to cars, to TVs, to everything.
I take a lot of crap because I drive a semi rusted 1988 Chevy, but ya know what? It’s paid for, in full, so it’s mine, free and clear. I happen to LOVE that car, flaws and all. It drives beautifully. Not to mention when all the newer prettier cars won’t start during bad weather, it is me and my old “clunker” they call for a ride because she starts without fail.
I’ve known a lot of people who were quite attractive outwardly….Then they opened their mouths and it became evident the wrapping paper was very deceiving of the ugliness within.
Seeing all these huge projection TVs and LCD flat panels and Plasmas coming into the shop, none of them more than 4 years old…makes me proud to own the clunky old CRT sets that I do as they can last 15 plus years without needing a repair.
Lesson is…don’t be so hung up on the shiny shiny factor.
Newer doesn’t mean better. Pretty doesn’t mean better.
===================
Speaking of which…

my nephew is totally obsessed with “looking cool” to impress his friends. He had litters of kittens when he was driven to school in a 1980 Ford Fairmont. It wasn’t “cool” and it was “old” and his friends said it was junky.
He only wants to wear a certain style and brand of clothes because his friends think it’s cool.
I was teasing him about playing some dance game on his X Box Kinnect and he got mad and told me I ruined it for him.
I tried to tell him, do what you want, don’t go through life letting what other people think or say control what you want to do. I also told him to strap on a pair.
I’m sensitive that way.
======================
I saw…

three cars pulled over by cops on the way home last night. It makes me very paranoid to see that many cars stopped in a ten minute trip home. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I am still leery of the police.
It sets off my panic receptors.
People keep talking about how thick The Donor is with the cops, so I’ve developed a paranoia complex. Illogical, unlikely, but if enough people drum it into you…you start to wonder.
Plus those red and blue lights just send piercing bursts of cold panic into me no matter what.
===================
I hadn’t…

planned on going into the shop today, but I texted him to ask about a problem with a receiver and if he had it figured out yet…and he told me he could use my help today,so I went ahead and went in. I got pizza for lunch and a little gas money,so even though I froze my ass off even indoors…I got to feel useful and do something with a purpose.
=================
Some sort of truce…

R said he had it out with his wife the other night, not just about me, but about the fact that she pretty much hates everyone he is friends with. She even said some things to Kenny that he was offended by,so I guess they set her straight. She seems to think I am “using” R, though I don’t see how she gets that. I basically work 35 hours a week for little more than lunch each day and twenty bucks at the end of the week. I’m not asking for a handout, I am earning a reference and some food and cash.
He says she is coming around, slowly.
Good Niki wants to say Yay.
Bad Niki wishes the woman would just hop on her broomstick and fly the fuck away since she dislikes everyone so much.
Even my shitlist isn’t as long as hers, apparently.
====================
Foamies,Foamies, everywhere…

Because of my love of Foamy (www.illwillpress.com) the squirrel, I have taken to calling all squirrels Foamies.
Driving to the shop the other day, a parade of four Foamies ran out in front of my car and meandered across the road at a leisurely pace. I hit the brakes and said, “Move, Foamies, Move!”
Hey, if my daughter says a horse is a cow, then I am within my rights to say a squirrel is a Foamy.
=====================
Friday the 13th induced deep thought….

So…the entire time I was watching my Friday the 13th movies to celebrate 1/13, I was not at all concerned with the plausibility of a maggot faced multiply killed psycho rising from the dead yet again…
No, no…my concern was the fact that this all allegedly takes place in Illinois, during the summer, and there were six scenes in which the characters were griping about how cold it was at night.
Um…if it’s that cold at night during the summer, why would parents be sending little six, seven year old kids out to shiver in the cold?
THAT I found implausible.
====================
I have DMS and a gun…any questions?

What, you ask, is DMS?
During menstrual syndrome.
Cramps, exhaustion, moodiness, achiness…
DIE DIE DIE DIE
DIE IN A FUCKING FIRE
DIE DIE DIE.
======================
Near coronary…

My washer quit going thru the spin cycle last night…and it was my bedding in the wash (Willow horked up on it, ewwww) and the panic set in, thinking, oh fuck, just what I need, a broken washer…But it was just a heavy load and once I spun each blanket by itself it started working properly again.
Gave me a scare, though. When you don’t even have money to replace batteries in your flash light, the notion of a busted wash machine is terrifying.
===============
Missing cat…

Eleven got out yesterday when I was leaving…and I haven’t seen her since. This is not normal. I am concerned she had some sort of reaction to the cold and keeled over or she got hit by a car or one of the drunken rednecks shot her….I wish she’d come back. It doesn’t feel right without her here, she has become part of the family.
=============
Professionals know fuck all…

The shrink told me if I’d take melatonin at night I would be able to sleep through.
Three months and it hasn’t happened yet.
I still wake up every two hours or so. For no fucking reason except to make note of how cold the bedroom is when I don’t crank the heat to 85.
Very frustrating. I suppose I could take a Seroquel and be knocked out for two days but I can’t exactly stick my kid into a pet taxi until I come out of that coma, now can I?
Sometimes, I wish these doctors would remember that people have lives and responsibilities and stress and medication is not a cure all nor is taking something that makes you sleep 14 hours a day and unable to lead your life.
=================
Cramps…

I think men should have to have one period in their lifetimes. JUST ONE. Cramps, bloating, mood swings, tearing up for no reason, angry and cranky one minute, loving and needy the next,like being possessed.
Bet the pms/period jokes would end real fast if they had to suffer thru this indignity.
===================

So…it’s 7:06pm Jan 19th. At my mom’s. I fixed her chicken and noodles for her birthday dinner. A cop has someone with one headlight stopped out front and I am sitting here watching the red and blue lights and even though I am doing nothing wrong it still makes me panic slightly. Like when one is behind me or beside me in traffic. Now that there’s all this hullabaloo about how you can’t videotape the cops, I live in terror of traffic stops because my god, you have NO recourse against any cop who is corrupt. SCARY.

Not sure I have anything else to add except OMG it is a pain in the ass trying to use the net here what with M stalking me and people trying to talk to me when they obviously see I am busy on line. I guess I am too irritable, I dunno, but I have to cram a week or two worth of net related stuff into a few hours a week of dragging my gear here so the last thing i want to do is socialize.

On the good side, though, hey it’s 7:21 pm and I’m not even at home, let alone getting ready to go to sleep in a depression induced exhaustion.

On the bad side, it’s 17 degrees outside which means I am going to have go freeze my spleen and get the car warmed up which costs more gas money and if it costs me money,it pisses me off.

Anyway…I apologize for the flood posts and not really having much of interest to say, but when I started blogging seven years ago, it was never for the sole purpose of having any readers. This is my venting, my therapy, my way of coping. That I have readers is an added bonus so please don’t think the flood posts are terminal. I will get my net back in a few months, even if I have to sell someone else’s organs on the black market. Now all I need is someone whose organs aren’t soaked in booze and pot, someone with knowledge of anatomy to do the slice and dice, and  a way to sell the organs without getting caught…

A ghoul must be ambitious, after all.

As always…much love to my partner in sawsome crimes, Bex.

So…a quick errand is just a quick errand…UNLESS YOU HAVE A TODDLER. And it’s 24 degrees and windy out. Then that quick errand turns into an ordeal in which every part of your body aches and you feel like you are trudging uphill in a blinding snowstorm with a 37 pound albatross thrashing around your neck. Children are not cooperative. They move at two speeds, fast, and breakneck. They are slippery like wrestling a pit of slimy worms and trying to grab onto just one. I love my child but sometimes, I wish I had someone to run errands for me because trying to wrestle her and accomplish the whole driving/traffic/store/hordes of people/smother on panic thing is exhausting. I cringe any time I realize I am out of something and need to make a ten minute trip to the store because I know with my child, it will be at least fourty five minutes and traumatic. Not whining, just making an observation.

Today is my mom’s birthday. I couldn’t buy her a gift so I am cooking her a meal of chicken and noodles,including delivering it to her house so she doesn’t have to get out in the cold. I am trying to be thoughtful but somehow,I know behind my back she will talk about how cheap and thoughtless I am. You can’t win with some people. You never win with family.

The spawn is in her room, still rampaging. She never naps when she should anymore,it makes for a very long day and night. It also makes planning things a hassle because Spooky minus a nap equals living hell for anyone in her proximity. She is definitely my child.

Guess I will clean the cat boxes since I’ve already done dishes, swept, mopped, and vacuumed. I am doing this shit every single day and I bet I still wouldn’t pass as being a good housekeeper with 80% of the population. I am trying so hard, though. Hurricane Spooky makes it a challenge. Oh,well. Onto the next task. My mantra has become, “One foot in front of the other,one foot in front of the other, move, move, move.”

Kinda sad when life has become like a marathon where you have to keep pushing yourself harder and harder with every stride.

Guess I will relax when I am dead.

R has asked me to be at the shop so far all week, first to help out, then just as a companion because he’s having a rough time being one of the normal people struggling to make ends meet. Today I had no sitter til noon so I showed up at noon and still he bought me lunch and loaned me some dvds so I would have something to watch at home. I like this friendship thing very much. He also referred one of his friends’ wives to me because she needs a ride out of town to the train  station and I happen to be available provided she pay for gas. She said she’d throw in something extra if I wanted to get some lunch. Works for me. I’m strongly in favor of earning my keep any way I can. (The way he keeps bragging on my ability to find his parts cheap,though, tells me I have his undying respect.)

My mom and sis chipped in together for my birthday so I could get a phone card, which is a good thing, as I was down to like 13 minutes til Feb 3 and starting to freak out. It’s one thing to have no cable, no net, but to not even be able to place a call to my family in an emergency or be reached for a potential job? Enter hyperventilation.

My gift from dad and his gf was to pay my car insurance for this month. Which is awesome, otherwise it would have been cancelled because I stretched $540 as far as I could.

I was reminded earlier today why I have NOT been going to my mom’s to use the wifi. I got there early because I hadn’t had a soda in like 26 hours and was totally spazzing out grouchy, didn’t figure mom would be back from errands yet. So Spook and I sat together looking at some catalog, and M stands over us pretty much the entire time. I HATE when people look over my shoulder. It makes me lose my train of thought, I get nervous, and I start fucking up or getting panicked. Panic turns into anger which often turns into very rude insults or outbursts. I am keeping my calm, barely, because I know he means well, but seriously, dude…    QUIT BEING A FUCKING STALKER ALREADY!

I watched season one of Witchblade last night and it was friggin’ awesome. Now I have moved on to season two, and…meh. I liked the first season better. Plus-this is the attentive genius I am-I bought the whole series used last year, and just now noticed disc six is missing. OOOPS. It’s too bad, cos this show had so much promise.

Made spaghetti for supper tonight. It was decent. Gormet I am not, but contrary to the popular belief of my family…I am not incapable of preparing edible noms.

Now…Spook has been fed, changed, dressed, and is watching Blue’s Clue’s in her room…I think I shall retire to my room and wash the day away with a good night’s rest. Ha. That doesn’t happen very often. Even if I am not being texted or called, for whatever fucked up reason, my body wakes up every ninety minutes without fail, with Melatonin or not. I am getting fucking frustrated because it’s not even to go pee, so what is the fucking point of waking up that many times a night every night? I’m being robbed of regenerative sleep,for fuck’s sake, and for no reason. The sandman is burgling me!

On an ending note…R had me go to a consumer complaint site and lodge a complaint about Sanyo products,mainly because the company they buy power supplies from (Delta Electronics) fails left and right…and the ending line he came up with for me to enter was “Buying a Sanyo is as risky as putting your genitals into a Cuisuinart.”

Yeah, that joke’s gonna live a looooong time.

I learned that not taking myself too seriously and tossing out sass were far more useful than playing doormat. If I can make fun of myself, then what power do they actually have by making fun of me?
I TOOK THEIR POWER AWAY.
Which is NOT to say I walked away unscathed. I have my scars, as we all do.
But once I quit taking their shit laying down…my desire to live outweighed my desire to die. I actually liked myself for being saucy.
It’s not some sad “beat ‘em to the punch because I know they’re right that I am loser” thing.
It’s an “I admit I have some idiosynchrasies and flaws that can be mocked” thing.

I GAINED confidence by being willing to NOT become too absorbed in taking myself too seriously.

If I call myself a klutz for tripping over something before anyone else does, then I am suddenly this humility filled woman able to laugh at herself and not be destroyed when others laugh along.
If I say “Yeah, I’m bipolar and have some other mental shit going on, but the fact I won’t wear crocs proves I am sane”- well, that’s just a factoid. (LOL.) But I’m not allowing anyone to make me feel ashamed for my conditions, I am owning them and deflecting them with fact based humor.
If someone brings up something dumb you did once, it is much more dignified to laugh and say, “Guilty as charged, could have sued my brain for non support that day” than to crumble into tears or defensiveness.

I may lack confidence (and I blame the panic for much of that,it makes me too afraid to push myself sometimes and I never learn what I am or am not capable of because I am too scared to even try lest I fail) but I think my self esteem is in a relatively healthy zone.
I know that I have many fucked up qualities.
I also know that I have some really awesome qualities.
It all balances out.

And in all honesty, I am pretty content being the way that I am.

It beats flying off the handle and acting like a defensive jackass every time someone has the audacity to point out you did something wrong or dumb or whatever.

I am secure enough in who I am that I don’t need to be defensive in that capacity. I am a flawed human being. I do stupid things. I make dumb mistakes. It takes more balls and maturity to admit your failings and own up than it does to deny and transfer them onto others.

I may be many not so good things…but I am not weak.

Anyone who can’t laugh at their own failings is as weak as it gets.