Life is generally about the mundane. I think about what I'm planning to eat for lunch or for dinner. I get impatient when waiting for my dog to finish her morning (or evening, or afternoon) trip to the backyard. I get excited to spend an evening with my boyfriend, the Baker. I debate over whether or not I'd like to see a movie on Friday night or go out to dinner instead. I pay bills. I spend too much money on gas for my car. I get frustrated when waiting in traffic.
These kinds of things happen day in, day out, and they are very real to me. In fact, I would notice their absence if they stopped happening for more than a few days or weeks at a time, depending on the event.
It is life-altering events that feel unreal, I think, the kinds of things that only happen once or twice in a lifetime. When I got married, my wedding day flew by in a kind of happy cloud. There were moments of annoyance and nervousness, but at the end of it, it was hard to believe that I was finally married after two years of planning the event.
My divorce was similar. There is very little ceremony to the ending of a marriage. At the end of a small court discussion with the judge, that was it. I was no longer married.
My grandmother's death has felt unreal from the morning when its occurrence seemed a virtual certainty. After open heart surgery to repair her mitral valve, she took a long time to recover. She was not gaining in strength and health each day, much unlike the men and women around her. Her respirator stayed in for 8 days, when the original plan had been to have it out in 1. People with similar surgeries kept coming into intensive care and leaving as through a revolving door while she made minor gains each day.
We thought things were changing on that 8th day when the respirator came out. She started whispering at us again, and since she was on less pain medication because the respirator was out, she was tired, but much more awake than she had been. The next day she was making jokes to my uncle. Then overnight on Sunday, her blood pressure dropped. She stopped responding to the nurses. The respirator went back in.
We sat vigil all Memorial Day, the few people left in the cardiac waiting room. Every hour on the half hour we went in for our 15 minute visits, every time she was unresponsive, her eyes moving back and forth across the ceiling as if she was watching a tennis match unseen by anyone else but her. By the end of visiting hours that day the nurse seemed hopeful. She said that progress would be slow, but that Grandma was now more stable and things seemed to be getting better.
When I arrived the next morning, I was almost instantaneously greeted by one of my grandmother's doctors. He would not go as far as to say there was no hope, but he only granted her, rather arbitrarily it seemed, a one percent chance of survival.
We spent most of the rest of the day at my grandmother's bedside, holding her hands and stroking her forehead. After about an hour of silently watching the monitors as they slowly fell and the nurses took her off various machines and medications, we began telling her stories and recalling memories in which she figured prominently in the punchlines. It was almost as if we were having a party at which the guest of honor was not there, or at the very least, unconscious.
The very last thing to go was her pacemaker. It was a temporary pacemaker, meant to push her heart back into operating within parameters on its own after the surgery. Her heart did manage to pick up some rhythm, but not enough for the doctors' liking. She persisted for a while yet after the pacemaker was turned off, and the numbers representing her blood pressure and her heart beats per minute slowly fell as we watched, holding on to her and holding on to each other.
She was still hooked up to the respirator for her own comfort, so it would not be readily apparent when she was gone, unless one was watching the monitors, which I was doing, like a hawk. I saw when the blood pressure reading fell one last time, and the heart rate went from weak to nothing, and the woman who had taught me how to bake cinnamon rolls, and sew, a woman who ironed her jeans, who sat down last at family meals, and who always made sure that each one of us had something special to eat at barbecues, a woman who always brought me extra blankets when I spent the night in the guest room no matter if it was summer or winter, and was kind to every one she met, I saw her leave behind her tired body and depart this world for good.
I didn't see her every day. Despite the fact that we lived forty minutes from one another, we mostly saw one another at family gatherings for holidays and such. After making it through the first days, the gauntlet of the visitation and funeral, and the day after, my life has settled much as it was into the rhythms and routines of getting frustrated in traffic, trying to figure out what to cook for dinner, and trying to decide what to do with my Friday evenings. I think about her more than I had been on a daily basis, but only once or twice a day does it hit me that I can't call her on the phone, or that she won't be at my family's Father's Day barbecue.
This experience has probably been the most unreal experience of my life.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Status Report
Reading: New York Burning: Liberty, Slavery, and Conspiracy in Eighteenth-Century America by Jill Lepore
Listening: Wild Animals by the Pinker Tones
New Life, Check!
It's been a whirlwind year. A lot has happened, a lot is still happening. The crazy thing is that I'm happier than I've possibly ever been in my life.
First, though, I must get the bad news out of the way. I will possibly write a more contemplative post on the subject at a later date, since I'm spending my time in Denialland trying to ignore the pain, but my grandmother died this Tuesday. She was a wonderful, sweet woman and even though she lived a full and happy life, it was still far too soon.
Changing the subject, I'm living in my old hometown again. I didn't stay in Chicago for long. My brief dalliance with the boy in the coffee shop landed me with mono, and I spend the majority of the time I lived there sleeping and/or miserable and homesick. The icing on the cake was that I was offered spring classes at the universities I had taught at in back home again, and had not found a teaching or any other new job in Chicago by the fall. The sprinkles on the cake, of course, was that my roommate was a little bit mean. So I headed home within 2 months, tail between my legs and happy to live with the parents and save a little money.
I got used to closing at the Starbucks in Chicago where I worked, so I asked my old boss to grant me closing shift status so I could substitute more in the day and focus on making a good impression on the local school districts. This of course, led to me once again working more hours between the two jobs than I would have liked, but I was able to save a great deal of my money (it's amazing how that happens when no one else is able to spend your money) and limit the amount of time I spent at the parents' house.
Meanwhile, I got to different people at Starbucks better, both the coworkers who usually worked evenings, and the customers who usually come in during evenings. I discovered a new shampoo and conditioner that made me feel as if I had the best hair in the world, and I bought a few tops and pants/skirts to wear to work that were in uniform code, but that were cut nicely and made me feel more attractive than the baggy polos I'd been wearing.
During this time period, I got to know a customer, an old regular the night crew knew well already, who I would flirt with on a regular basis. The flirting was mutual, and after about 6 weeks of dancing around, he asked me out. We've now been dating for about 7 months, and I'm deliriously happy with him. He pays attention to the little things, he cares about my opinions, he likes to talk with me about the things I love. Heck, he even committed to watching Buffy with me once through because I am so passionate about the show. I am so grateful that I found him!
During this time period I also moved into a duplex with a bud from Starbux. It's a beautiful little place, which of course I would love even more if it were a little cheaper and I could live here alone--not because I don't like my roomate, just because of the little annoying things about having roomates in general--but the yard is fenced for Chloe, I'm living in the city and not the suburbs again, and independent.
Meanwhile, I sent a few emails out to local community colleges telling them I am experienced and qualified and still had a few spots open in my spring schedule. About a week before Christmas, I was inundated with offers and ended up not being able to take them all. Eventually I wound up teaching a total of 8 classes at 4 different local colleges. The planning was killer, since they were all classes I hadn't taught before, and the grading sometimes took up more time than it should have, but I do love teaching college kids. I left Starbucks once my schedule became untenable, and I miss my coworkers and the comraderie, but not working holidays or nights and weekends. I'm teaching 8 classes again this fall, but only one is a class I haven't taught before and it should be a lot less time consuming.
Okay, so I think everything is now pretty much up to date. Summer school starts Monday, but I'm only teaching one class, which should provide a nice break. I'm planning on devoting time to planning the new class and adjusting some things in my old classes over the summer, as well as doing some more reading on some history topics I don't know as much about to add spice to my lectures. I've read a lot of colonial history so far while at the hospital the last two weeks.
The only other thing is that I didn't have a lot of time to run this spring, and I put on some weight. This is also connected to having a boyfriend who bakes. I'm planning on using the blog to write a little on my progress with weight loss over the summer as well. I started at 144, and I am now at 140. I would ideally like to get to 125, but anything under 135 will get me back into my tight pants, which is the more practical part of this mission. I don't want to have to buy a new wardrobe.
Nice to talk to y'all again. See you soon.
First, though, I must get the bad news out of the way. I will possibly write a more contemplative post on the subject at a later date, since I'm spending my time in Denialland trying to ignore the pain, but my grandmother died this Tuesday. She was a wonderful, sweet woman and even though she lived a full and happy life, it was still far too soon.
Changing the subject, I'm living in my old hometown again. I didn't stay in Chicago for long. My brief dalliance with the boy in the coffee shop landed me with mono, and I spend the majority of the time I lived there sleeping and/or miserable and homesick. The icing on the cake was that I was offered spring classes at the universities I had taught at in back home again, and had not found a teaching or any other new job in Chicago by the fall. The sprinkles on the cake, of course, was that my roommate was a little bit mean. So I headed home within 2 months, tail between my legs and happy to live with the parents and save a little money.
I got used to closing at the Starbucks in Chicago where I worked, so I asked my old boss to grant me closing shift status so I could substitute more in the day and focus on making a good impression on the local school districts. This of course, led to me once again working more hours between the two jobs than I would have liked, but I was able to save a great deal of my money (it's amazing how that happens when no one else is able to spend your money) and limit the amount of time I spent at the parents' house.
Meanwhile, I got to different people at Starbucks better, both the coworkers who usually worked evenings, and the customers who usually come in during evenings. I discovered a new shampoo and conditioner that made me feel as if I had the best hair in the world, and I bought a few tops and pants/skirts to wear to work that were in uniform code, but that were cut nicely and made me feel more attractive than the baggy polos I'd been wearing.
During this time period, I got to know a customer, an old regular the night crew knew well already, who I would flirt with on a regular basis. The flirting was mutual, and after about 6 weeks of dancing around, he asked me out. We've now been dating for about 7 months, and I'm deliriously happy with him. He pays attention to the little things, he cares about my opinions, he likes to talk with me about the things I love. Heck, he even committed to watching Buffy with me once through because I am so passionate about the show. I am so grateful that I found him!
During this time period I also moved into a duplex with a bud from Starbux. It's a beautiful little place, which of course I would love even more if it were a little cheaper and I could live here alone--not because I don't like my roomate, just because of the little annoying things about having roomates in general--but the yard is fenced for Chloe, I'm living in the city and not the suburbs again, and independent.
Meanwhile, I sent a few emails out to local community colleges telling them I am experienced and qualified and still had a few spots open in my spring schedule. About a week before Christmas, I was inundated with offers and ended up not being able to take them all. Eventually I wound up teaching a total of 8 classes at 4 different local colleges. The planning was killer, since they were all classes I hadn't taught before, and the grading sometimes took up more time than it should have, but I do love teaching college kids. I left Starbucks once my schedule became untenable, and I miss my coworkers and the comraderie, but not working holidays or nights and weekends. I'm teaching 8 classes again this fall, but only one is a class I haven't taught before and it should be a lot less time consuming.
Okay, so I think everything is now pretty much up to date. Summer school starts Monday, but I'm only teaching one class, which should provide a nice break. I'm planning on devoting time to planning the new class and adjusting some things in my old classes over the summer, as well as doing some more reading on some history topics I don't know as much about to add spice to my lectures. I've read a lot of colonial history so far while at the hospital the last two weeks.
The only other thing is that I didn't have a lot of time to run this spring, and I put on some weight. This is also connected to having a boyfriend who bakes. I'm planning on using the blog to write a little on my progress with weight loss over the summer as well. I started at 144, and I am now at 140. I would ideally like to get to 125, but anything under 135 will get me back into my tight pants, which is the more practical part of this mission. I don't want to have to buy a new wardrobe.
Nice to talk to y'all again. See you soon.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
New Town, Old Job... Part Way There
So, a lot has happened since I posted last. I sold my house, which I managed to get on here. I know I didn't write much else.
Since I sold my house I went to Chicago 3 times- I've found an apartment, a new roommate, and been on two dates. Well, that is, if you can count making out in the park with a random guy I met in a coffee house a date. Nothing has really panned out to last past those first points, but it does wonders for a girl's self esteem to get even a little bit of action.
I'm moving in 9 days. It seems unreal. I'm alternately terrified and excited. It's a big jump. I won't be able to hang out with my grandparents whenever I want anymore, or plan a family barbecue at the last moment, or any number of other things. As much as I need to get out from under my parents' roof, it's a little sad. It's also scary, since I've jumped from the supreme responsibility of paying a mortgage to an apartment with only two months off to save money.
So far I've only got my job at Starbucks in Chicago. It'll pay some bills, and it will get me health insurance, but not much else. I am really hoping that everything works out and I will be able to report on a new teaching job soon. And an entirely new life.
I can't promise much over the next 9 days, but soon you will see a litle retooling, a much more frequent posting, and seriously, a happier Clio. Things have been on the upswing for a bit. I can't say I'm over everything, but I feel like I've reached the other end of something and it's hella nice.
Since I sold my house I went to Chicago 3 times- I've found an apartment, a new roommate, and been on two dates. Well, that is, if you can count making out in the park with a random guy I met in a coffee house a date. Nothing has really panned out to last past those first points, but it does wonders for a girl's self esteem to get even a little bit of action.
I'm moving in 9 days. It seems unreal. I'm alternately terrified and excited. It's a big jump. I won't be able to hang out with my grandparents whenever I want anymore, or plan a family barbecue at the last moment, or any number of other things. As much as I need to get out from under my parents' roof, it's a little sad. It's also scary, since I've jumped from the supreme responsibility of paying a mortgage to an apartment with only two months off to save money.
So far I've only got my job at Starbucks in Chicago. It'll pay some bills, and it will get me health insurance, but not much else. I am really hoping that everything works out and I will be able to report on a new teaching job soon. And an entirely new life.
I can't promise much over the next 9 days, but soon you will see a litle retooling, a much more frequent posting, and seriously, a happier Clio. Things have been on the upswing for a bit. I can't say I'm over everything, but I feel like I've reached the other end of something and it's hella nice.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Long time, no see!
It's been awhile, I know. It's harder to access the internet from the rents' house. Also, I'm teaching 2 classes and subbing and Starbucksing it still. Sadly enough, the house still hasn't sold. This means I'm always working and spend all my money in a house I don't live in while sharing a bathroom with my parents. Someday I'll have a place of my own again, I hope.
I sprained my wrist at work 2 weeks ago. I was going into the back to get some paper bags, and swooosh, I was on the floor.
I went to Chicago in December- had a lovely time. I discovered a really neat coffee shop in Lincoln Park where I had soup for lunch every day. It is called "Savor the Flavor."
I am applying for a voluminous amount of jobs these days, all over the country. I had better get one of them, that's all I can say!
Reading: Saving Fish From Drowning by Amy Tan
Listening: Neon Bible Arcade Fire
I sprained my wrist at work 2 weeks ago. I was going into the back to get some paper bags, and swooosh, I was on the floor.
I went to Chicago in December- had a lovely time. I discovered a really neat coffee shop in Lincoln Park where I had soup for lunch every day. It is called "Savor the Flavor."
I am applying for a voluminous amount of jobs these days, all over the country. I had better get one of them, that's all I can say!
Reading: Saving Fish From Drowning by Amy Tan
Listening: Neon Bible Arcade Fire
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Entertainments
Reading: Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene. So far I'm not far enough in for the book to form itself in a coherent narrative in my head, but the bits of Greene I have enjoyed in most of his books are peeking through, convincing me to read further. I find that the first few chapters of a book can take a while to hook one and give a book a presence in one's head like a memory or a particularly captivating person. Good books (and some sensational ones) tend to do that more quickly, but there are excellent books that have a slow burn.
Watching: Six Feet Under season 3. Nate was hotter with the stubble.
Listening: Jose Gonzalez. The song "Crosses" haunts me.
Watching: Six Feet Under season 3. Nate was hotter with the stubble.
Listening: Jose Gonzalez. The song "Crosses" haunts me.
Still Alive
Kicking too. Occasionally, and only those that deserve it.
I've been substitute teaching a lot on my days off, meaning I haven't had a day off in a little while. I can't relax at my parents' house, which is not entirely the fault of my parents.
I miss him, though that is probably enough said about that. The idea of a forever without him reminds me of being packed into a very small dark and stuffy room which is too small to stand or even fully sit up in.
I have an interview for a part time teaching job today at 1:45. I am not sure I want this job. It's nice having a job I don't have to bring home with me each night. I am also not sure I want to leave my cocoon. It's only coffee, but students' minds and futures are another thing.
It would, however, pay more than Starbucks and add much more to my resume and experience and aid me in getting the job I want in Chicago next year.
Wish me luck, anyway. A choice is better than no choice at all.
I've been substitute teaching a lot on my days off, meaning I haven't had a day off in a little while. I can't relax at my parents' house, which is not entirely the fault of my parents.
I miss him, though that is probably enough said about that. The idea of a forever without him reminds me of being packed into a very small dark and stuffy room which is too small to stand or even fully sit up in.
I have an interview for a part time teaching job today at 1:45. I am not sure I want this job. It's nice having a job I don't have to bring home with me each night. I am also not sure I want to leave my cocoon. It's only coffee, but students' minds and futures are another thing.
It would, however, pay more than Starbucks and add much more to my resume and experience and aid me in getting the job I want in Chicago next year.
Wish me luck, anyway. A choice is better than no choice at all.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Greetings from Parentland
Sorry it has been a while. I have been trapped in the strange world that is moving, working, and parentland.
Let's just say that living with my parents is quite a trip.
I have had to wait in line for the bathroom twice at 3:30 am when getting ready for work.
My dog has renounced me in favor of my parents.
I never feel as if I am at home.
I missed CSI last week as a consequence of unsubscribing from Tivo in the move.
I have stopped up their new-fangled water-saving toilet on an average of 3 times a day, usually by urinating in it. Gosh, my urine must be thick.
I have started substitute teaching again. The extra money is good, but I don't get a lot of free time by subbing on my days off from SBUX.
There's probably more I can say- the house hasn't sold, I'm always tired, I'm reading a ton of good books, not listening to as much good music, have decided that I really do hate the burbs more than the city, and various assorted other things. But I've got to go- I'm due at a store meeting. Christmas season is unveiling at SBUX on Thursday and I have to be briefed.
Let's just say that living with my parents is quite a trip.
I have had to wait in line for the bathroom twice at 3:30 am when getting ready for work.
My dog has renounced me in favor of my parents.
I never feel as if I am at home.
I missed CSI last week as a consequence of unsubscribing from Tivo in the move.
I have stopped up their new-fangled water-saving toilet on an average of 3 times a day, usually by urinating in it. Gosh, my urine must be thick.
I have started substitute teaching again. The extra money is good, but I don't get a lot of free time by subbing on my days off from SBUX.
There's probably more I can say- the house hasn't sold, I'm always tired, I'm reading a ton of good books, not listening to as much good music, have decided that I really do hate the burbs more than the city, and various assorted other things. But I've got to go- I'm due at a store meeting. Christmas season is unveiling at SBUX on Thursday and I have to be briefed.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Chrysalis
The days slip by one by one. I wake up. I go to work. I read on my lunch break in front of the fireplace at work. I go home. I run. I snuggle with my dog and watch television. I do much the same on my days off except for sleeping a little more, and watching a little more television. Every few days I dream about him, I get a little depressed. It's not a bad little rhythm or a bad little life for now, and the movement of it all is a little hypnotic.
It would be easy to fall into this pattern for a few months more, a few years more. A good book and a little good tv, dinner with a friend twice a month, and time could pass slowly away before my eyes before I shake myself into a more meaningful existence.
It's all a nice temporary solace. I can understand how so many people can get caught up in the little details of life and forget to live but for a few small moments of vacation each year, love every so often, or truly pure moments in which one's job is clear and one creates something amazing or helps someone else in doing it. It's been a rough year of it, and so I give myself permission to do this a little while. I feel alright about escaping into this coma of classic novels, work I enjoy but don't have to take home with me, and consumption instead of creation.
I am attracted to art. A pretty necklace, a well-written essay, and meticulously filmed and plotted movie or beautiful song all attract me like flowers with a bee. I have been obsessive in my consumption of these items for the last couple of years as I have descended into the pain. I have collected more wonderful music than I have time to enjoy. Every time I return a library book I check out ten more. I watch more television than is healthy.
I am still in chrysalis. I am still slumbering, changing, growing a little more. Consuming my stored energy and not putting myself out into the world. It's a trite image, but I'll break out of my cocoon some day and be something else. I will create, I will fly, I will go into the world a new creature whether I'm a moth or a butterfly.
I'm just not ready yet.
It would be easy to fall into this pattern for a few months more, a few years more. A good book and a little good tv, dinner with a friend twice a month, and time could pass slowly away before my eyes before I shake myself into a more meaningful existence.
It's all a nice temporary solace. I can understand how so many people can get caught up in the little details of life and forget to live but for a few small moments of vacation each year, love every so often, or truly pure moments in which one's job is clear and one creates something amazing or helps someone else in doing it. It's been a rough year of it, and so I give myself permission to do this a little while. I feel alright about escaping into this coma of classic novels, work I enjoy but don't have to take home with me, and consumption instead of creation.
I am attracted to art. A pretty necklace, a well-written essay, and meticulously filmed and plotted movie or beautiful song all attract me like flowers with a bee. I have been obsessive in my consumption of these items for the last couple of years as I have descended into the pain. I have collected more wonderful music than I have time to enjoy. Every time I return a library book I check out ten more. I watch more television than is healthy.
I am still in chrysalis. I am still slumbering, changing, growing a little more. Consuming my stored energy and not putting myself out into the world. It's a trite image, but I'll break out of my cocoon some day and be something else. I will create, I will fly, I will go into the world a new creature whether I'm a moth or a butterfly.
I'm just not ready yet.
Update
Reading: Our Man in Havana by Graham Greene. I've been on a G.G. kick lately. I started by reading The End of the Affair, which was an amazing movie (which I saw mainly because of my crush on a certain, shall we say "fine," actor). I've read The Quiet American and a less than stellar Brighton Rock since then and can say I appreciate his humor and cynical world view.
Watching: Six Feet Under, Season One. I swear I know everyone else has already been smitten by this ages ago, but I was a poor graduate student with no premium cable channels. Now that it is showing on Bravo, I'm lapping every new episode up.
Listening: Say I am You by The Weepies
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Plan with a Man
It's funny what different people's ideas of how your life should be shape up. Whenever my dad talks about that vague time in the future when my life will be better he mentions "some great guy." My mother focuses on whatever teaching job I'll have, and hasn't quite accepted my need to move to Chicago (then again, nor has the rest of the family). I think about Chicago, of course, but I also think about writing.
I've been writing fiction since I was a child. I wrote my first story at age 8 on notebook paper, illustrating and collating it for public view. I brought it along with me to school, showing it to all my friends. I even clasped it to my chest at recess- dropping it once in the wind on a moist fall day. It still bears mud spots.
I wrote new stories regularly. My file cabinet is brimming with folders labelled by grade and stuffed with drafts of tales full of horror, unrequited love, and unrecognized genius meant to mirror the inner turmoil of my true self. As I got older, I wrote poetry, plays, and even an unfinished screenplay or two.
Being a writer was one of my early career aspirations, that is after queen of the world and nurse. I actually started out in that direction. I've gotten paid for some freelance articles, some blather and treacle about kids who won math awards as such. I even won a national semifinalist spot in a playwriting contest in high school. But it's been a long time since I've been in contact with that muse.
I am fairly out of practice. My heart has not been in the many book reviews and research papers I have been writing as part of my graduate studies for the last many years, and the creative outlet I had in music and writing dried up after high school. I would like to begin writing again. I have had a few ideas for fiction percolating in my thoughts for a couple of months, and I am anxious to start a new, regular routine that includes writing for myself.
In my ideal version of my life, that is, without winning the lottery, I will teach part time either at high school or community college, and spend the rest of my time writing fiction and participating in some community or small time professional theatre after teaching full time and writing for a few years in order to get my footing. It's not as if I don't want a man in my life. Heaven knows a little snuggling and companionship would be nice. However, men do not a life make. I am possibly more excited about getting another dog when I get a new apartment than I am about finding a new husband/partner.
So with this being the last day I will work at the video rental place and thus about a 60 hour week, I will now make it part of my routine to write a little bit for myself each day. It's time to start using that muscle again in order to get it ready for that someday. It may not be a plan with a man, like my father often suggests, but it is my plan.
I've been writing fiction since I was a child. I wrote my first story at age 8 on notebook paper, illustrating and collating it for public view. I brought it along with me to school, showing it to all my friends. I even clasped it to my chest at recess- dropping it once in the wind on a moist fall day. It still bears mud spots.
I wrote new stories regularly. My file cabinet is brimming with folders labelled by grade and stuffed with drafts of tales full of horror, unrequited love, and unrecognized genius meant to mirror the inner turmoil of my true self. As I got older, I wrote poetry, plays, and even an unfinished screenplay or two.
Being a writer was one of my early career aspirations, that is after queen of the world and nurse. I actually started out in that direction. I've gotten paid for some freelance articles, some blather and treacle about kids who won math awards as such. I even won a national semifinalist spot in a playwriting contest in high school. But it's been a long time since I've been in contact with that muse.
I am fairly out of practice. My heart has not been in the many book reviews and research papers I have been writing as part of my graduate studies for the last many years, and the creative outlet I had in music and writing dried up after high school. I would like to begin writing again. I have had a few ideas for fiction percolating in my thoughts for a couple of months, and I am anxious to start a new, regular routine that includes writing for myself.
In my ideal version of my life, that is, without winning the lottery, I will teach part time either at high school or community college, and spend the rest of my time writing fiction and participating in some community or small time professional theatre after teaching full time and writing for a few years in order to get my footing. It's not as if I don't want a man in my life. Heaven knows a little snuggling and companionship would be nice. However, men do not a life make. I am possibly more excited about getting another dog when I get a new apartment than I am about finding a new husband/partner.
So with this being the last day I will work at the video rental place and thus about a 60 hour week, I will now make it part of my routine to write a little bit for myself each day. It's time to start using that muscle again in order to get it ready for that someday. It may not be a plan with a man, like my father often suggests, but it is my plan.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Early Morning Gem
When I work opens at Starbucks, my alarm rings at 3:35 a.m. Or rather, my television turns on at that time. The sound of my alarm clock tends to make me incredibly angry and ends up starting me out on the wrong foot for the day, so I find it's much gentler to wake up to the hum of the television.
Since I find that the television often distracts me in the mornings, lately I have been watching whatever my television lands on that early so that watching one of my shows will not make me run late. My tv has a mind of its own. My tivo, my one splurge, decides what channel my tv will wake me up on. Most of the time at 3:35 a.m. it is an infomercial. This morning it was the subject of this week's random fandom, an amusing 1980s zombie movie called Night of the Creeps.
I caught the last 20 minutes of the movie. A hardscrabble detective was going about a college campus looking to kill zombies heading to a sorority house filled with young women with deliciously big hair and cheap formal dresses. A young hero handed a young awestruck heroine a flamethrower so that they could fight off zombies together. All in all, it was so bad it was good. There were slithery alien slug-monsters and the possibility for a sequel- not all the slugs were killed by the gasoline explosion in the sorority house.
I wouldn't recommend anyone spend much money on this guilty pleasure, but if you like bad 1980s movies and bad horror movies, I would recommend you check this out.
Monday, September 18, 2006
The Issue
Is money. I make far too little of it. I make about 250 dollars less than I need in a month to scrape by- and it will be about 350 more once the weather gets cold. I'm not saving any money, even for stuff like oil changes or quarterly hair cuts. I am working over fifty hours each week (usually mid fifties) and I still can't make ends meet. And I'm exhausted.
I got in a car accident. I slept through my alarm Sunday for half an hour. I don't wear anything but pj's and work uniforms these days. I don't feel like a real person. I worked an open shift (4:15-12:45) at SB, a close at the video store (5-12:15 a.m.) and then another open right in a row. There's a possibility I may have to do that three times next week. I don't have a day off this week.
I was planning on waiting it out another week at the video store, attempting one shift a week to make some extra money to help pay the bills, but the prospect of next week sleeping 3 hours about 3 or even 4 nights next week makes me think it is time to quit. Now, perhaps.
If only the house would sell, or if there were a date in sight that I would know it would be off my hands, I would not have to feel so bad about draining my savings while working my ass off.
I feel like I need permission to quit my second job. It's my responsibility to work- to make it all work. I keep telling myself that it's too much, that I'm not being weak.
I got in a car accident. I slept through my alarm Sunday for half an hour. I don't wear anything but pj's and work uniforms these days. I don't feel like a real person. I worked an open shift (4:15-12:45) at SB, a close at the video store (5-12:15 a.m.) and then another open right in a row. There's a possibility I may have to do that three times next week. I don't have a day off this week.
I was planning on waiting it out another week at the video store, attempting one shift a week to make some extra money to help pay the bills, but the prospect of next week sleeping 3 hours about 3 or even 4 nights next week makes me think it is time to quit. Now, perhaps.
If only the house would sell, or if there were a date in sight that I would know it would be off my hands, I would not have to feel so bad about draining my savings while working my ass off.
I feel like I need permission to quit my second job. It's my responsibility to work- to make it all work. I keep telling myself that it's too much, that I'm not being weak.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Random Fandom
In part entertainment missionary, and in part to alter the general woe-is-me course of my blog I shall now be instituting a new Thursday feature I have decided to call random fandom. I will recommend to my rather meager audience a television show, cd, book, or other such item based on my personal enjoyment of such. That's where the fandom fits. The random is basically a cue to the fact that my endorsement will generally have nothing to do with what is new or what has recently gained a popular buzz. I will merely recommend what has recently captured my (rapt) attention.
This week's random recommendation is truly connected to the missionary zeal I mentioned earlier. Life on Mars is an interesting and well written show with a great soundtrack. I discovered it one night on BBC America while indulging my love of an older comedy show they run called Father Ted .
In the show, present day detective inspector Sam Tyler is hit by a car and wakes up a detective in the 1970s, almost inexplicably. He works to solve crimes all the while clashing with old-school boss and detective Gene Hunt. Tyler is politically correct and more of a CSI-type detective who always attempts to dot his i's, cross his t's, and respect prisoner's rights. Hunt is from another mold- he punches first and asks questions later.
As Tyler attempts to fit into this department with his new-style detective strategies, he also occaisionally gets visited by a girl inside his television, and hears voices and machines from what appears to be in his hospital room. Is he merely in a coma? Is he really back in time? Is he a looney? At present, the audience does not yet know. The series is somewhat a mystery/cop show with a cultural and personality clash between offbeat partners, but the coma lends an aspect of the supernatural that lends it even more depth.
The last episode of this series (British television runs in somewhat a different fashion than U.S. tv, many shows are at most 12 episodes long for each season, called a series, which in my opinion cuts through some of the filler that appears in a 22 episode season on U.S. tv.) will show next week, but I am sure they will continue to show repeats.
There is also news that David E. Kelley has picked up the American rights to remake the show. Hopefully the series will turn out more like the American Office instead of the hopefully forgotten American Coupling.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
The New Guy
I am at the point prior to a relationship in which the object of my affection can be all things to me. I know him little enough so that he's only a vauge outline in which I fill in the details. He looks like a model in a Rosetti painting. He likes Simpsons and Seinfeld. He enjoys racing bikes in his spare time. He says good-bye to me specifically and by name every time his shift ends before mine. This is all I know about him.
He could love children and animals, and be consistently punctual. He could be somewhat outdoorsy, but prefer day hikes to camping. He could like Buffy enough to talk about it, but not share my obsession. He could enjoy running with me once a week instead of just biking every day for a change of pace. He could be fiscally responsible, be attracted to redheads and smart, opinionated women.
Then again, he could be a total blackguard and cad.
In some ways this is the best part- the wondering, the expectation, the heightened excitement. As I find out little by little who he is and what he likes and dislikes he will become much less a dream and much more a person who will at times annoy me because he doesn't like my habit of watching tv in bed or spends too much money on his bikes.
I finished training at his store. He has my bike. And my phone number.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Day Off
Today is my much fabled day off. It's been over three weeks since I last had one. I really needed one. I punctuated my double shifts on Saturday with a minor car accident in the middle. My life sometimes really sucks. That is, when I think about it. Which, since I work so darned much, isn't as often as most people I think.
I haven't heard from the library. I suppose they could still be undecided, but I'm guessing I didn't get the job. This is a little bit sad. I would not have to work 60 hours a week there to not afford to pay my bills.
I got my first full paycheck from the video rental place, and my first check from Starbucks. Though it is nice to get paid, both checks were disappointing. To know that I am working too many hours and still can't pay all my bills is depressing. Not to mention, I can't keep up the kind of hours I'm pulling in for much longer. So my bills will fall even shorter from getting paid.
The rest of my schedule for my day off include running 9 miles, having dinner with a friend, and snuggling with my dog as well as returning some topsoil to Home Depot. I am also making my way through Charlotte Bronte's Villette. Virginia Wolff and George Eliot both wrote that this book was even better than Jane Eyre which is one of my favorite books. I am about 100 pages in. I also have some more classics waiting for me at the library.
I am incredibly excited to say I have two days off next week. What will I do with all that free time?
I haven't heard from the library. I suppose they could still be undecided, but I'm guessing I didn't get the job. This is a little bit sad. I would not have to work 60 hours a week there to not afford to pay my bills.
I got my first full paycheck from the video rental place, and my first check from Starbucks. Though it is nice to get paid, both checks were disappointing. To know that I am working too many hours and still can't pay all my bills is depressing. Not to mention, I can't keep up the kind of hours I'm pulling in for much longer. So my bills will fall even shorter from getting paid.
The rest of my schedule for my day off include running 9 miles, having dinner with a friend, and snuggling with my dog as well as returning some topsoil to Home Depot. I am also making my way through Charlotte Bronte's Villette. Virginia Wolff and George Eliot both wrote that this book was even better than Jane Eyre which is one of my favorite books. I am about 100 pages in. I also have some more classics waiting for me at the library.
I am incredibly excited to say I have two days off next week. What will I do with all that free time?
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Beware Flying Car Thieves
I'm not big on cars. I really don't like driving. I will be extremely happy when I can rely on the el most of the time. Also, I'm not very impressed by horsepower, or fancy suspension, or German or Italian car makers. I am impressed by seat warmers, but that's besides the point.
Basically I love my Toyota Corolla because it goes. It gets me from point A to point B on a reliable basis. I get a little unhappy when it gets scratched or bumped, but mostly it's just a car. It could have, however, been a much cooler Corolla.
My parents helped me buy my car. I put down the rather extensive down payment, but my dad helped me sign for the car. Since I was working two jobs and very busy, he did the car shopping. I wanted a Toyota or Madza because of their known reliability.
I got a very basic model. I don't have automatic locks or windows. No big deal, I wasn't too interested in those things anyway though they would have been nice. Yet during the purchasing process a nicer model was offered to my parents for the same price. It had the slightly nicer fabric seats. It had a cd player, automatic windows and locks, and one of those nifty remotes to open my car. The sticking point was a moon roof.
When my parents found out that the car had a moon roof, they said no. They did not want me to have this nice car for the same price as a stripped model. This was not because the moon roof might leak, or because our religion is opposed to moon roofs on moral grounds, but because of the neighborhood I lived in.
At the time, my neighborhood was not terrible, but not particularly suburban. Crime was an issue in the area. I was once backed into by a stolen car at a nearby stop sign. My mother, the paranoid suburbanite she is, decided that a moonroof would be another way for a car thief to get into and steal my car.
Now, as far as I know none of the thieves on my street had rocket shoes, and there were no trees near where I parked for them to drop onto the roof of my car, but perhaps my mother is on to something. Car thieves of the world- try pogo sticks.
Basically I love my Toyota Corolla because it goes. It gets me from point A to point B on a reliable basis. I get a little unhappy when it gets scratched or bumped, but mostly it's just a car. It could have, however, been a much cooler Corolla.
My parents helped me buy my car. I put down the rather extensive down payment, but my dad helped me sign for the car. Since I was working two jobs and very busy, he did the car shopping. I wanted a Toyota or Madza because of their known reliability.
I got a very basic model. I don't have automatic locks or windows. No big deal, I wasn't too interested in those things anyway though they would have been nice. Yet during the purchasing process a nicer model was offered to my parents for the same price. It had the slightly nicer fabric seats. It had a cd player, automatic windows and locks, and one of those nifty remotes to open my car. The sticking point was a moon roof.
When my parents found out that the car had a moon roof, they said no. They did not want me to have this nice car for the same price as a stripped model. This was not because the moon roof might leak, or because our religion is opposed to moon roofs on moral grounds, but because of the neighborhood I lived in.
At the time, my neighborhood was not terrible, but not particularly suburban. Crime was an issue in the area. I was once backed into by a stolen car at a nearby stop sign. My mother, the paranoid suburbanite she is, decided that a moonroof would be another way for a car thief to get into and steal my car.
Now, as far as I know none of the thieves on my street had rocket shoes, and there were no trees near where I parked for them to drop onto the roof of my car, but perhaps my mother is on to something. Car thieves of the world- try pogo sticks.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Good Fortune
No, I haven't been the recipient of actual good fortune. But when I ate a fortune cookie today, this is the message I found inside it:
You should be able to make money and hold on to it.
Granted, it doesn't say I will be gloriously happy and satisfied and find love and make fat babies on a beach, but considering my present money woes I'll take it. I don't quite know what it means, but it sure sounds good. Will I get the library job? Maybe. Will I remain in retail hell for the year? Maybe. Will I sell the house and live among my conservative Baptist parents? Quite possibly. But it's all okay. Good fortune is on the way. I can feel it.
Whoever is out there, thank you for reading. It has helped me feel a little bit more solid than I would have otherwise. For the past 100 posts, this has been a helpful outlet. There have been some days when all I could do was cry out here in hopes that writing it all down could help a little. Hopefully you can stick by as I finally finish first and get out of Dodge!
You should be able to make money and hold on to it.
Granted, it doesn't say I will be gloriously happy and satisfied and find love and make fat babies on a beach, but considering my present money woes I'll take it. I don't quite know what it means, but it sure sounds good. Will I get the library job? Maybe. Will I remain in retail hell for the year? Maybe. Will I sell the house and live among my conservative Baptist parents? Quite possibly. But it's all okay. Good fortune is on the way. I can feel it.
Whoever is out there, thank you for reading. It has helped me feel a little bit more solid than I would have otherwise. For the past 100 posts, this has been a helpful outlet. There have been some days when all I could do was cry out here in hopes that writing it all down could help a little. Hopefully you can stick by as I finally finish first and get out of Dodge!
Monday, August 28, 2006
My Aching Feet
Sorry it's been a while since I posted. I, as previously mentioned, have been putting in long days both at Starbucks and the video rental place. I worked about 18 hours between Saturday and Sunday and my feet are killing me. I soak them, rub them, ice them, and take ibuprofen, but being on them so often isn't allowing them time to feel any better for more than a couple of hours in mid-morning. I put off a trip to the grocery store until tomorrow because I couldn't imagine walking through the store itself. It feels as if I'm walking on bruises.
I'm training on the espresso bar this week. It's exciting. I can make all sorts of fancy-pants drinks. Also, I'm a tea master!
No word on the library job yet. I hope they call soon. I've been scheduled to interview for a job that I'd rather not have but would feel obligated to take if I don't get the library job. I'd much rather spend my first day off in 3.5 weeks next Tuesday relaxing instead of driving to Podunk Capitol City 2 hours away to interview a job I'm not sure I want. It would be much easier to say "sorry, I accepted another offer." What really gets me is that I would take this job in a second if it were in my city, or Chicago, or Kansas City, or even Nashville. But taking this job, especially before my house sells, would require me to support two households and keep a second job (I don't want to start training again....), live in PCC, require me to forgo teaching the two college courses I was offered in the spring, not have my family in town to help me with my dog on long days, and require me to move to PCC, then move again to Chicago next summer.
Five people came to see my house yesterday. Keep your fingers crossed that one of them is serious about making a real offer! As soon as the house sells I can sit back, enjoy Starbucks (which offers benefits at 20 hours a week), enjoy subbing and or teaching my classes next spring and STILL manage to save a ton of money. While polishing my resume up for Chicago next fall and purchase a few little items (like a digital camera) of course.
And because I want to share with you the joy of working retail, here's an interesting snippet from my experiences at the video rental place.
We sell lots of candy at the vrp. We also don't do a ton of business in the middle of the day during week days. Last week on Tuesday my first sale of the day walked in a little before noon, 2 hours after opening.
She didn't look very well put together. Her clothes matched, but they were a little dirty and a little small. Her skirt hung under her ample belly. She appeared to be in her early to mid twenties, but definitely the worse for wear. Her eye makeup was heavy and smeared.
She brought about 4 pounds of candy to the counter, and no movies. She started to strike up a conversation. "I heard you guys talking about your pets," she said. This much is true. Chris and I were having a conversation about our dogs and cats. What follows, however, is entirely fantastical.
"I have cats," she said, "I keep them clipped in cages like birds. So they won't fly away." I nodded and smiled. "I let them out every once in a while. I feed them the candy to make them use the litterbox. They're attracted to the bright colors."
Of course they are.
I learned a little later that this young woman was one of our regulars, a fairly notorious drug user and sometimes prostitute. That could explain the clipped cats story. She really appeared to believe it.
Now as much as I hate working at LRP, the neighborhood I work in is pretty neat. It's incredibly diverse. I usually hear at least 3 or 4 other languages than English each weekend shift I work. I get to practice my Spanish too. (Two Hondurans asked me out on Saturday after helping them find a movie.) In addition, we have a very healthy mix of toothless (and toothful) rednecks and gay men and women, since our store is nearby a fairly gay neighborhood. I seriously went from having a discussion about the show the L-word and Logo to detailing the finer points of our selection of straight to video horror movies. Since our neighborhood is fairly cheap we also have a number of young recent college graduates trying to save money whom I also enjoy talking with about our foreign film selection. I can not emphasize how much my night changes over the course of any given shift.
Still, I am looking forward to quitting LRP as soon as I can afford to. After the store closes 3 weeks from now I will be moved to a less interesting and possibly suburban neighborhood. Since I already dislike the job so much, losing that diversity of clientele will be the final nail in the coffin that ensures that there is not even one thing left that I like about the job.
I'm training on the espresso bar this week. It's exciting. I can make all sorts of fancy-pants drinks. Also, I'm a tea master!
No word on the library job yet. I hope they call soon. I've been scheduled to interview for a job that I'd rather not have but would feel obligated to take if I don't get the library job. I'd much rather spend my first day off in 3.5 weeks next Tuesday relaxing instead of driving to Podunk Capitol City 2 hours away to interview a job I'm not sure I want. It would be much easier to say "sorry, I accepted another offer." What really gets me is that I would take this job in a second if it were in my city, or Chicago, or Kansas City, or even Nashville. But taking this job, especially before my house sells, would require me to support two households and keep a second job (I don't want to start training again....), live in PCC, require me to forgo teaching the two college courses I was offered in the spring, not have my family in town to help me with my dog on long days, and require me to move to PCC, then move again to Chicago next summer.
Five people came to see my house yesterday. Keep your fingers crossed that one of them is serious about making a real offer! As soon as the house sells I can sit back, enjoy Starbucks (which offers benefits at 20 hours a week), enjoy subbing and or teaching my classes next spring and STILL manage to save a ton of money. While polishing my resume up for Chicago next fall and purchase a few little items (like a digital camera) of course.
And because I want to share with you the joy of working retail, here's an interesting snippet from my experiences at the video rental place.
We sell lots of candy at the vrp. We also don't do a ton of business in the middle of the day during week days. Last week on Tuesday my first sale of the day walked in a little before noon, 2 hours after opening.
She didn't look very well put together. Her clothes matched, but they were a little dirty and a little small. Her skirt hung under her ample belly. She appeared to be in her early to mid twenties, but definitely the worse for wear. Her eye makeup was heavy and smeared.
She brought about 4 pounds of candy to the counter, and no movies. She started to strike up a conversation. "I heard you guys talking about your pets," she said. This much is true. Chris and I were having a conversation about our dogs and cats. What follows, however, is entirely fantastical.
"I have cats," she said, "I keep them clipped in cages like birds. So they won't fly away." I nodded and smiled. "I let them out every once in a while. I feed them the candy to make them use the litterbox. They're attracted to the bright colors."
Of course they are.
I learned a little later that this young woman was one of our regulars, a fairly notorious drug user and sometimes prostitute. That could explain the clipped cats story. She really appeared to believe it.
Now as much as I hate working at LRP, the neighborhood I work in is pretty neat. It's incredibly diverse. I usually hear at least 3 or 4 other languages than English each weekend shift I work. I get to practice my Spanish too. (Two Hondurans asked me out on Saturday after helping them find a movie.) In addition, we have a very healthy mix of toothless (and toothful) rednecks and gay men and women, since our store is nearby a fairly gay neighborhood. I seriously went from having a discussion about the show the L-word and Logo to detailing the finer points of our selection of straight to video horror movies. Since our neighborhood is fairly cheap we also have a number of young recent college graduates trying to save money whom I also enjoy talking with about our foreign film selection. I can not emphasize how much my night changes over the course of any given shift.
Still, I am looking forward to quitting LRP as soon as I can afford to. After the store closes 3 weeks from now I will be moved to a less interesting and possibly suburban neighborhood. Since I already dislike the job so much, losing that diversity of clientele will be the final nail in the coffin that ensures that there is not even one thing left that I like about the job.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Working for a Living
Due to a few circumstances I have been unable to update lately. First, I accidentally left my computer behind at my parents' house this weekend and haven't had time to get it back until today. Secondly, I have been working every day.
Seriously. The last day I had off was two weeks ago, and the next day I'm gonna have off is in the unforseen future, but it's at least another two weeks away. I'm totalling in the mid-fifties hourwise each week and still barely making ends meet. But at least they're meeting, right? And in the meantime, I'm not having enough downtime to think about the divorce much. In the long run I'm assuming that that is not a good thing, but for now I think it's an excellent coping mechanism. I think that I will be more ready and willing to end the denial phase (or the ignoring phase, take your pick- it's really a little bit of both) once something in my life is going all right.
Another positive aspect to this is that I'm too busy to eat food that's bad for me. I'm packing carrots and whole wheat wrap sandwiches and fruit for my lunch, making it easy to grab those, but not much else. I'm also scheduling in my runs and still making them for once because there are few nagging things left to complete at home (like homework), and I need them for the stress relief anyway. So I'm hopping to drop that eight pounds in the course of the month.
My feet hurt like crazy. I'm soaking them in cool water each night, but it's kinda painful to stand by the end of the day. I'm hoping that it will get easier as time goes on.
I do love Starbucks, however. The people are really fun and nice, and I'm still overwhelmed by all I have to learn, but it's a neat job. The time goes quickly. I could have lived all my life without knowing what a carmel mocha machiatto was, but I feel a little cooler now that I do know. Working there is also kinda like being Norm. Everyone says hi to me when I get there, and personally says goodbye when I go. It's a nice place to be.
There's a cute guy there too. Absolutely nothing will come of it, but it's another nifty little distraction technique to flirt and enjoy without really intending anything. Not that I'm a big flirt, or anything. It's pretty much the lighthearted joking I am participating in with the whole staff at the store I'm training in.
The house sale is not going well. No one is looking. I hope I can sell it before the end of the year.
Post 100 is quickly approaching.... So much has happened in 100 posts. Hopefully by 200 I will be able to look back in celebration. I truly am hopeful right now. I just know that there is a lot more that I will have to slog through before the dawn comes and I've never been one for patience.
I know there will still be a lot of days when I cry, when I wake up after dreaming of him like today, or when I will be working long hours to pay the house payment (or put up with the loss of privacy and independence when moving in with my parents). I don't know when these times will end- and I still may get depressed about things from time to time far into the future. Someday, though, my life will be mine again instead of the charred remnants of our life. I look forward to the day.
Seriously. The last day I had off was two weeks ago, and the next day I'm gonna have off is in the unforseen future, but it's at least another two weeks away. I'm totalling in the mid-fifties hourwise each week and still barely making ends meet. But at least they're meeting, right? And in the meantime, I'm not having enough downtime to think about the divorce much. In the long run I'm assuming that that is not a good thing, but for now I think it's an excellent coping mechanism. I think that I will be more ready and willing to end the denial phase (or the ignoring phase, take your pick- it's really a little bit of both) once something in my life is going all right.
Another positive aspect to this is that I'm too busy to eat food that's bad for me. I'm packing carrots and whole wheat wrap sandwiches and fruit for my lunch, making it easy to grab those, but not much else. I'm also scheduling in my runs and still making them for once because there are few nagging things left to complete at home (like homework), and I need them for the stress relief anyway. So I'm hopping to drop that eight pounds in the course of the month.
My feet hurt like crazy. I'm soaking them in cool water each night, but it's kinda painful to stand by the end of the day. I'm hoping that it will get easier as time goes on.
I do love Starbucks, however. The people are really fun and nice, and I'm still overwhelmed by all I have to learn, but it's a neat job. The time goes quickly. I could have lived all my life without knowing what a carmel mocha machiatto was, but I feel a little cooler now that I do know. Working there is also kinda like being Norm. Everyone says hi to me when I get there, and personally says goodbye when I go. It's a nice place to be.
There's a cute guy there too. Absolutely nothing will come of it, but it's another nifty little distraction technique to flirt and enjoy without really intending anything. Not that I'm a big flirt, or anything. It's pretty much the lighthearted joking I am participating in with the whole staff at the store I'm training in.
The house sale is not going well. No one is looking. I hope I can sell it before the end of the year.
Post 100 is quickly approaching.... So much has happened in 100 posts. Hopefully by 200 I will be able to look back in celebration. I truly am hopeful right now. I just know that there is a lot more that I will have to slog through before the dawn comes and I've never been one for patience.
I know there will still be a lot of days when I cry, when I wake up after dreaming of him like today, or when I will be working long hours to pay the house payment (or put up with the loss of privacy and independence when moving in with my parents). I don't know when these times will end- and I still may get depressed about things from time to time far into the future. Someday, though, my life will be mine again instead of the charred remnants of our life. I look forward to the day.
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