This Is My First C&C Monday. So Be Gentle.

On Mondays, Cat has been promoting Click & Comment Day. I am also posting this to remind you how important it is to comment on other blogs. It truly DOES increase your readership and you most often gain regulars that will visit your blog day after day.

What I encourage is for you to click Cat's renter. (I have no renter. Not sure how exactly to go about that.) Then, you comment on the blog and click their renter or someone on their blogroll. Then you comment on that blog and click their renter or someone on their blogroll. Do this for as many blogs as you can. Sometimes they go full circle, and you end up at the originating blog, then just look up a blog in the blogroll and start the cycle again.

So, let’s get started! Comment here and I'll either add your name and link to my post or use an auto-link program and let you add your own.

I really encourage you to do this at least to 5 comments if you have ANY time at all. It will give you the joy of sharing a few of your opinions on posts and bring you future readers.

Thanks and enjoy Click & Comment Day by visting this page and adding it to your blog!

Are you posting Click & Comment on your blog? Add your name to the list with a link to your blog and I’ll come visit. If you do this you not only gain links but new blog-friends as well.

Enjoy! I’m going to try to do this each Monday. Why not start your week off right?


I Think I'm A Bit "Teched". My Granny Used To Tell Me That All The Time.

I am entirely too excited about browsing the school supply aisle at Wal-Mart and way too over-enthusiastic about picking out what supplies I want to buy. When I got home with my purchases last night, I spent the better part of an hour or so arranging said supplies. Which folders and tab dividers go in which notebook and in which order? Should I put my day classes in one notebook and my night classes in another? Or should I put my Physical Geology Lecture and Lab in one separate binder and the rest of my classes in the other binder? After I got finished doing all of that, I realized (after repeatedly forcing the largest binder into my Hello Kitty bookbag and repeatedly taking it out again) that there's no room for books with the binders in the bookbag I have, which means I'll have to get another one. When I look back at what I was doing last night, I realize that I must have looked like a 3-year-old taking things in and out of Mommy's bag.

Can you say "over-analyzation"? I think you can.

(Now I really can't wait for classes to start so I can start filling up my notebooks. I like the feel of paper when it's been written on both sides and I like the look of my notebooks when they're full of notes, handouts and such. Like I said-waaaay over-enthusiastic. I have a slight obsession with things being full. And no, I'm not being dirty.)

I'll be bemoaning the fact that I'm in school before the first month is out. I'm such a hypocrite...and on top of that I'm just extremely odd. At least I know this about myself. Ever since David died, I find myself being even more odd. Last night I backed into one of those carpeted poles at Wal-Mart and apologized to it. Right after that, Sally posed the question to the group of us (Tanya and myself being the other two.), "Collectively, just how much Klonopin are we on?"

I won't go into the The Three Bears reference, because that's just too gross. Funny...but gross.


One Never Knows What Lies Just A Click And A Google Search Away. These Are The Weirdest I've Found. Well, So Far Anway

1."young women with large boobs sqeezed by 7 feet tall men" (Ummmm....)
2."raped him" strapon (tmi...tmi...tmi....tmi!)
3."shizotypal personality disorder" (I guess that's not too weird. If you've read much of my blog you'd know what I'm talking about.)
4. "120 days of sodom palabras" (I have read a book called '120 Days of Sodom' by the Marquis de Sade, but I just don't get that search. In Spanish "palabras" means "words". So, I guess what they were really looking for was "words of 120 Days of Sodom"? I don't know, but the searcher was from Turkey. Didn't know they spoke much Spanish there.Maybe looking for a manual of some kind? One never knows, does one?)
5. "bible people bad behavior serom" (What's "serom"? Meaning "sermon" possibly? Or maybe "serum", which would totally be so much funnier.)


Why Are You Gone?

I feel:: exhausted

(Click the pictures and it will go to my photo album where they'll be bigger.)

A Christmas card David gave me while we were dating:

What he wrote on the inside:


The Christmas present that came with the card. It wasn't a new book. It was his book and he gave it to me.

What he wrote on the inside cover of the book:

The funeral is today. In a few hours. Jesus hold my heart.


I Cry Only Because I'm Selfish

My friend of 16 years, my brother in Christ and in my heart, died in his sleep on Friday night. The doctor's never did find out what was wrong with him, even though he'd been seeing some for the last 6-8 months. There was a full autopsy ordered. I can't bear the thought of someone treating him like he's just another slab of flesh, but it would be nice to know what caused him to die. His body hasn't been released to the funeral home yet due to the continuing autopsy, so no one knows when the funeral will be.

I know he's with God, but I'm just so selfish that I shake my fist at God and demand that He bring him back like He did Lazarus. Seriously, though, I'm sure he'd rather be with God.

I just want him here. I want him not to be dead. I feel like someone (i.e. God) sucker-punched me.



I feel: like I'm not the only fucked up person in my family, which is a good feeling

Ahem...Do ya'll rate the weirdness or non-weirdness of things that happen to you on a daily basis? For instance: sort of weird, weird, really weird, fuck-me-sideways...

You could have your own categories, I'm just giving these as an example.

I've said all that to say this: In the category of weird things my dad has done, this one tops the list. (Backing up to tell the story right) The day before yesterday, I took a shower, which is not a weird thing, but my tub drain was completely clogged. No draining of the water collected from my shower whatsoever. I told Dad and asked him to get me some drain cleaner the next time he went out somewhere. Cue: Dad cursing about the drain and how he can't afford a plumber. This went on for the rest of the night.

Next morning (yesterday): Dad wakes earlier than usual, gets dressed and then tells me that he's going to the store to get drain cleaner. While he was gone, I got a call from the staffing agency that I've been working with to try and find a job. The lady on the line was not only telling me that she had another translating opportunity for me, but it seems that there was some problem with the company not signing my time sheet. She was telling me, in an apologetic-businessy-sort-of-way that she didn't know when I would get paid for what I did last week, because she couldn't get in contact with anyone at that company to sign my time sheet.

While I'm still on the phone with the lady from the staffing agency, Dad comes back from the store. Assumably with the drain cleaner in tow. I hear him rustling around in my bathroom and then the next thing I hear is, "You might want to come in here for a minute." Without missing a breath, I yelled (even though he was just like one room away), "I AM ON THE PHONE!" Then I realized that what I had just done must have sounded so back woods redneck to the business-y lady from the staffing company and at the same time I realized just how fast I can revert to my teenage angst. An apology from me came forthwith to the lady on the phone. I was hoping she wouldn't hold that little throwback to my teenage years against me too much.

Anyway, I got off the phone with her a few seconds later and went into my bathroom. This is what I saw: My dad with his cane beside him, pouring a whole bottle of drain cleaner into my tub and then sitting on the side of my tub staring at the little pool of the cleaner which had gathered, of course because my drain was clogged, at the base of the drain. (Let me explain: the night before, my dad had me get in the tub, which was still full of water, with the plunger and work on it until all the water had drained out. So by the next morning, the tub had no water in it.) I stood in the doorway of my bathroom for at least 10 minutes watching him watching the puddle of drain cleaner in the tub. So, I asked him eventually, "Are you going to come out?" Without turning his head to look at me, as if the drain cleaner would magically disappear down the drain while he wasn't looking, he said, "I'm waiting to see if this drain cleaner will go down." I thought to myself, "Well, it's not like the draino needs your supervision or anything." What I said was: "It will go down eventually, dad." He said something like, "I suppose you're right," (like he wasn't sure that if he left that the cleaner would indeed go down the drain). He made a move to get up by grabbing hold of his cane, stood up and started to make his way out of my bathroom, but then at the last minute, had to turn around and take another look -see at the puddle of draino in the tub.

I thought to myself, "He called me in here just to watch him watch the draino. This has got to be the most ridiculous thing he's ever done." Then I thought to myself, "Why am I standing here watching him watching the draino?"

So on the weird-shit-o-meter of the things dad has done, this one rates about a 4.

The day he set off the house alarm by randomly pressing the buttons on the console and having me yank all the wiring for it out of the wall (Because he never bothered to read the manual to figure out how to turn it off, or for that matter, how to turn it on. I guess that was supposed to be my job.) still ranks number 1.

Number 2 is the night (several years ago)when the land-line phone rang and he ripped all of the phone jacks out the walls (because the phone rang). We haven't had a land-line phone since.

Number 3 is the time he fell and broke the big bone in his upper leg and was laying in a bed in the hospital emergency room doped up on painkillers and told me that his mother, my grandmother, had run off with the circus to become a hoochy-coochy dancer and that that was the reason he grew up with his grandparents. (When he told me this, I had flashbacks of being in high-school and wanting to go to the county fair, but never without a warning from dad: "Don't you be bringing home any of those carnies!" It sort of gives the warning a whole new meaning in light of that confession.) He's very chatty on painkillers.


The Same 2-3 Pounds Keep Haunting Me. I Feel Like I Just Want To Carve Them Off Of My Body.

I feel: content for the moment

I've either hit my first plateau or I've just become lazy. I would prefer to think the former rather than the latter, but I'm pretty lazy...

Ok. I'm setting a weight loss goal for myself for this week. I'm at 197 today. By next Tuesday, my goal is to have lost 3-4 pounds. That will put me at 194-193 and will also mean that I can wear more of my clothes. I'll be able to wear my size 14 jeans, skirts and slacks. (It will also mean that my back will hurt less since there will be 3-4 pounds less of me pressing on my nicely S-shaped spine. [sarcasm] I just love scoliosis. It's entertaining occasionally.[/sarcasm]) I'm not brave enough to wear shorts. I used to love wearing shorts, but now...God, I'm not even going to get started on that. Let's hope I have enough willpower to resist the ice cream aisle, Sonic and wherever else has ice cream. You guys know I have all those places scoped out, right? (RESISTANCE IS FUTILE...sometimes.)


~Pink Ribbons Fell To The Ground While I Was Running~

I feel: like nothing is real

When I close my eyes
I see a girl
in a frilly dress
with pink patent-leather shoes.
Red hair and running heedless of the frills
ribbons undone and threatening to fly away.
I see a girl whose smile is too big for her face.
I'm supposed to "tone it down" they (the grown-ups)say.
I see a girl standing on the front porch of my mother's house reciting Edgar Allan Poe
pretending to be on a Shakespearean stage.
The thing is, when I close my eyes my frills keep getting ripped and my ribbons dirtied.
I run and I run and I run in my pink patent-leathers. Always into some grown-up who says how pretty I am.
It's a dangerous thing to be too pretty.
It makes the grown-ups jealous of you.
It makes them want to rip your insides out over and over again
until you have no more prettiness inside
until you are nothing,
which is just what they wanted all along.
Can't be too pretty.
Can't be too happy.
Can't be untouched.
Tongues are double-edged swords and cut deep into the tender flesh of a young girl's heart.
Hands are worse. Big hands and nowhere to run. No one to help.
No one cares that you're scared.
No one cares that you're hurt.
Grown-ups can be selectively deaf. They only hear what they want to hear and believe what they want to believe.
A grown-up mind is a strange thing. It bends words and twists things around so a little girl would think what they did to her was her fault.
I hope I never become a grown-up.
I still have my ribbons and my pink patent-leather shoes with the pretty bows on top.
I still have my frilly dresses.
Only now, I'm scared to be pretty.
There's still all those grown-ups around.
I don't trust them.


Simultaneously Happy and Sad. How Is That Possible And Is It Even Legal?

I feel: ...I can't describe it.

The translating job on Tuesday went a lot better than I expected it to. It was a 12-hour thing and for the first 11 hours, I only talked to one person who didn't speak English. So, that left me with A LOT of time on my hands. Thank God, I brought my books. I spent a lot of time looking up medical terms in my dictionary. Words like: 'cholesterol', which turns out to be 'colesterol'; 'cereal', which is 'cereal' and 'blood pressure', which turns out to be 'tension de sangre' (literally 'tension/pressure of the blood'). There was no definition for B.M.I. (Body Mass Index), so I had to paraphrase the meaning, which took way more time than just saying B.M.I. and having someone know what that means. The last hour, however, I talked to like 9 guys who spoke no English whatsoever. It was all very rushed and while some of them looked at me like I was the Madonna when I began to speak Spanish, others looked at me like they were really confused. I kept asking,"Tengas mas preguntas para mi?" (Do you have any more questions for me?") which invariably would cause some of them to go into a state of confusion. I felt kind of weird. I got paranoid for a second and thought, "Am I saying what I think I'm saying?. Maybe I'm asking them if they've had sex with sheep, or something." I kept having to reassure myself by looking up words in the dictionary and certain verbs, conguations and their meanings in my 501 Spanish Verbs book. All in all, though, it was good. I got paid $12.75/hour to sit on my ass and alternatively take off my shoes at times and engage in various yoga poses for the better part of 11 hours and I even got a free lunch and a glow-in-the-dark freezer cup out of the day. So, I'm satisfied. I found out this morning that they don't need me to come back Friday, but that they'll be doing another Health Fair in October and that they definitely want me there to translate. The lady who called me this morning from Premier Staffing said that the boss lady, Hillary, really liked me and said that I did a really good job. So, yay me!

I called Mom Sikes last night just to talk to her and wound up spilling my guts about everything that has been going on at church. She told me, quite bluntly, "The only reason you are going to that church is because you love them and you want to make them love you come Hell or high water. It doesn't work that way. It's not your responsibility to make up ground that they lost." So, I've decided to cut ties with them. I'm not going to attempt any contact and I'm not going back to Calvary Chapel. I have to find somewhere to go where I feel loved and where people appreciate me. Mom reminded me last night of how alive I feel when I'm working with someone (ministering is the word she used) who is just going through Hell. She told me that I was too good of a counselor to waste away at that church trying to make people love me who just don't or can't. She said at one point, "If you don't leave you'll continue to be miserable and one day they might come around and realize how special you are and that they do love you, but at that point you'll be like, 'All this pain wasn't worth it.' and you'll move on anyway." I have to admit that she's right about that. I do feel most alive when I'm serving God; when I know without a doubt that I'm in the right place at the right time doing the thing that I'm supposed to be doing. I miss it, even though it's hard and at times rips my heart out. I guess what I really, really miss the most is that feeling that God is right beside me all the time. You know, in my head, I know that He is, but in my heart sometimes I feel like he's on vacation. But it's really me that has been drifting in and out of a close relationship with God.

It's all worth it, you know. The pain and heartache of trying to reach out to people with the love of God. The love that God has already shown me in abundance. I guess I just forgot or maybe I just didn't want to remember because I have been going through so much of my own pain. I know that I'm not emotionally/mentally ready to take on such a great responsibility right now. Right now, I'm going to focus on myself and on my relationship with God. I've got to keep on healing. I know that sometimes, you have to experience pain in order to heal from it. I can say, at this moment, that I'm ready for it, but tomorrow I might not feel this way. Tomorrow, I may want to crawl in my hole and sit in the darkness of my depression. I hope I can retain this mindset; this willingness to do whatever it takes to heal, to be closer to God, and to be willing to work for Him. ( I just realized that all of this sounds like some kind of self-help book from the local "Christian" bookstore. I hope you guys don't think it's trite and I hope that you don't think I'm just experiencing the "warm fuzzies", because I don't feel warm and fuzzy right now. What I feel right now, is scared. Scared of what comes next.)

At least I've made a definite decision and that alone makes me feel better.


Verbos...Vocabulario...Verbos (oy ve) No Puedo Pensar Ahora!

I feel: extremely nervous and very tired

I have a two day job this week, tomorrow and Friday, at a health fair at a company in Little Rock. My job is to be the Spanish translator. I'm extremely nervous/anxious about it, considering I haven't had any Spanish classes for a few semesters. I've been working like a little Spanish conjugating verb bee making myself Excel spreadsheets of commonly used verbs, their tenses and conjugations. I got so busy, I even forgot to go by the temp agency today and pick up a time sheet. Ever since they called me, which was Friday morning, I haven't been able to sleep very well. I keep having imaginary conversations with myself in Spanish trying to figure out things that might come up during my time at this job or whatever I think might surprise me. I'm taking my (huge) Spanish/English dictionary with me and my book of 501 Spanish Verbs, just in case. God, I'm so nervous and I'm not even there yet. It's not 'till tomorrow morning. I think I need a Klonopin.

Edit:I actually had a panic attack right after I finished writing this. The kind where all of the muscles in my body spasm involuntarily and I feel like I'm having a heart attack.

Fun times...


I Wish This Trigger Were A Horse

I feel: violated

I was just browsing through my Sitemeter stats a few minutes ago and came across someone who had Google-searched the words, "how to hurt women". What disturbs me is not that my blog came up as a search result, because obviously, I would never list, like, a manual on how to hurt women, or for that matter, anyone. What does disturb me is that someone would actually search for those specific words. It's like they were looking for a textbook or something. It makes me afraid for the women around that particular person, because they don't know that they might be a target.

I realize that I don't know the full story of why this person was Googling this and I realize that I'm having an automatic knee-jerk reaction to it. It could be any number of reasons. I guess I'm just shocked. I shouldn't be, I guess, but I am. I mean, this blog is public and there are any number of people who have access to it. I shouldn't be feeling this way, but I am. I feel like my heart is in a vice grip and I'm having to breathe really shallowly because of it.

Can you say "trigger"? I think you can.


They're Taking Their Toll, These Latter Days

I feel: numb and anxious (how can you feel numb and anxious at the same time?)

The day of my interview at the downtown location of FedEx/Kinkos's, I had set my alarm clock for 8am just to give myself enough time to wake up. You know, I don't like to be rushed. I like to have my coffee, read my email, shower, sit at my computer wrapped in a very large towel and continue checking on various blogs while my hair dries..etc.

That particular morning, I woke from having a very vivid dream of being in my grandparent's house. I was in one of the downstairs bathrooms, the one that was connected to the downstairs bedroom. I was naked and from the look of my body in my dream, I couldn't have been more than 5 or so. I don't know if this happens to you guys when you dream, but when I dream, I can see my body from the vantage point I normally do. Only in most of my dreams, I have no breasts and my arms and legs are very small: childishly small and I always manage to look down and see that poochy baby belly. Anyway, the bathroom was steamy like it is when you just get out of a hot shower. I looked across from me and there was my grandfather coming out of the shower nude with an erection. I remember feeling like I didn't know what to do. I felt trapped. I felt cold like I had just gotten out of the shower too. That could possibly be the best explanation for why I was totally naked.

So, I woke from this dream oddly feeling quite content, which when I look back on it now I think is a weird reaction. But as moment by moment went by and the dream kept replaying itself over and over in my head, my feeling of contentment vanished completely. I lay in my bed, growing ever more anxious, as the dream slowly but surely congealed itself into a firm and concrete memory. My first ever concrete memory of sexual abuse by my grandfather. Always before, there had been dreams, misty and unformed. Mainly I just smelled him; knew who he was; knew that I was a child and that he was doing something to me that scared me and hurt me. Never have I had a complete picture form in my head like that: never a completely formed memory.

I didn't know if I could get out of bed. I felt like I was on the verge of having really-bad-freak-out-time. Somehow, though, I managed to push it away just enough so that I could get up, feed the cats, make coffee, take a shower (although I nearly fainted in the shower when the pushed away memory refused for a moment to be ignored), and get dressed. By the time I had done all of this, my entire body was shaking and I couldn't control it. I took 2 of my Klonopin and sat in my bigcomfychair and tried to take deep breaths. Telling myself that I was at this moment not in physical danger of being hurt/molested; that the memory was just that: a memory. Sipping my coffee and not really watching CNN, I waited for the Klonopin to kick in, which it did after about 30-45 minutes. After that, I was able to move out of my bigcomfychair and put make-up on, fix my hair and do the other things I had to do to finish getting ready for my interview.

As I was driving to the interview, I had to keep telling myself over and over again that I couldn't let this memory fuck up my interview. So, with all of my will, I pushed it away, telling myself that I would deal with it later, because obviously this was not the time or the place. I arrived at my interview early and had to wait for the Asst. Manager to finish whatever he was doing. So, I just sat in a chair refusing to think about what had happened just a few hours before. I willed my mind to be blank and relegated internal comments to things like, "Wow, that stationary is pretty." Finally, it was time for my interview and I followed the Asst. Manager to the conference room. We sat down and before we began to talk, we were joined by the store Manager, who said he just wanted to "sit in" on the interview. It turned out that it was he who did most of the interviewing. Despite, my morning and my mental state of denial at that moment, the interview went quite well. Both the Asst. Manager and the Manager told me so several times. Even going so far as to tell me to bring them a copy of my school schedule as soon as possible so they could start working on scheduling me around my classes. I felt encouraged by that.

After the interview, I checked my cell to see if anyone had called me. Someone had: Tanya. She said she had some running around town to do that day (her day off) and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her. I called her and said that I would, but I wanted to go home first and change out of my interview clothes. So, we agreed to meet at Books-A-Million. We ran around town doing her tasks pretty much all afternoon. By the time we were done, I had the most ferocious headache. We had contacted Sally and she was going to come up to Books-A-Million so we could all have coffee together, but I didn't think my headache was going to allow me to be in public for much longer. I dropped Tanya off at BAM and headed home. On the way home, my headache kept getting worse and I felt the bile rising in my throat threatening me that it was going to exit my body whether I wanted it to or not. (Nausea is not the word for what I was. I don't know what that word is.) By the time I got to my house, my headache was so bad that I was dizzy and my vision was blurry. My dad, not knowing the state I was in (he's not very observant), wanted to talk to me about how my interview went. I just couldn't talk to him. I couldn't do anything except fall into bed. I honestly didn't think I'd be able to fall asleep because my head was hurting so badly, but I did, almost instantly. I slept for 4 or 5 hours. When I woke my pillow was wet. At first I thought, "Shit, I drooled on my pillow," but then I slowly came to realize through the shaking off of sleepiness that my eyes were swollen. You know that feeling when you can't see your face, but you know for sure that some part of it is just not right? I went to my bathroom and what I saw were my eyes red and nearly swollen shut and I kept having tears run down my face without my will. That is, I wasn't crying, but my eyes were. I figured the reason my pillow was wet was because I had been crying in my sleep. It's not the first time that's happened to me.

I went back to my room and just laid in my bed trying not to think about anything, but the memory from earlier that day kept insisting on being recognized, but I kept pushing it away. I called Tanya because I wanted to apologize to she and Sally for bailing on them. Tanya was still at BAM. She said she was reading and wanted to know if I wanted to get some dinner with her. I told her that was fine, but after I hung up with her, I just kept laying in bed not wanting to move. After about half an hour, I called Tanya back and told her that I had a different idea for dinner: my idea was that I go get her, we go grocery shopping (since my food stamps had just renewed on the 5th and Dad had been on me about that anyway, come back to my house eat and maybe watch a movie. She said that was cool, so that's what we did. When I got to BAM, evidently, my eyes were still really swollen and red because the first thing out of Tanya's mouth was, "Oh my God. Are you ok?" Of course, I told her what had happened and my resultant condition. At that point, my eyes were still leaking tears, although I wasn't actively crying. (I thought that was particularly weird, but I can't say it was abnormal given my day.) We hung out in Wally World for awhile looking at things we wanted (like clothes and shoes) that we knew we couldn't afford and then went about the business of grocery shopping. We had fun, but of course, I always have fun wandering around Wally World with Tanya and Sally. There are just so many chances to be silly. I guess that's why I like it so much.

We came back to my house, ate and watched Resident Evil: Apocalypse. Tanya had never seen it and I had just bought it. I had been looking for it forever, but could never find it. (I love the RE games and consequently, the movies) So, about 2:00am, we left my house. I had to take Tanya back to her car at BAM. I got home about 3:00am, couldn't find Gigi, got paranoid and refused to go to sleep until I found her and finally found her locked in Dad's room(he was sound asleep). After that, I crashed. I didn't wake yesterday until 1:30. I stayed up for 2 hours, went back to bed and slept until 8:30pm. Of course, all day yesterday, the memory/dream kept haunting me. God, I was so tired. I felt like even just to lift my arm was a herculean effort.

Today, I still really don't want to go anywhere, except that I have this family thing to go to later on tonight. My cousin, Andrea, has just had her first baby and the family are all gathering to oohh and aahhh over him. It's a big deal for her to finally have conceived. She had two miscarriages and only got pregnant because of fertility treatments. I feel like for me not to go would be, to say the very least, in bad taste.

I still feel sort of numb. I've gone totally off my good eating of mostly protein and veggies and have, for the past two days, lived on corn chips,white cheese dip (me-->allergic to milk), and Peach Fresca. You know, it's really shitty timing to have your first solid memory of incest just hours before going to an interview for a job you really want. I don't know if I handled it the right way or the wrong way. I haven't had the requisite cry-a-thon. I can't even tell if it's in the mail or not. I've had no self-injury/suicial thoughts; I haven't binged on any food despite my obvious penchant for tortilla chips and white cheese dip. I haven't even eaten any ice cream. A part of me feels like I should be reacting more strongly to this new revelation and then another part of me is really glad that I'm not a crying, snotty mess.

The only thing I can figure is that all that time I spent trying to push away that amazingly clear first concrete memory of childhood incest took it's toll on me not only mentally, but physically.


I'll Take That Pink One

I feel: anxious with all these rednecks out here with projectile flammable things

No weight loss to report this week. No gain either, so I guess that's good.

I have my second interview at FedEx/Kinko's tomorrow at 11:00am. Not a second interview at the same place, but an interview at a different location. This one is downtown. I hope it goes well. I'm not feeling so great right now and I hope I can shake this funk by tomorrow. You know how sometimes that raincloud just stays over you for days (weeks, months, years) sometimes? Well, I'm hoping that this is just a one day thing. Actually, I didn't start feeling this way until a few minutes ago. Now that I think about it, my blood sugar dropped a few minutes ago and I'm just recovering from it. So, that might explain why I feel funky.

I got a new computer the other day. I can't believe I didn't come on here and prounounce it to the world like I was the town cryer. My other one seemed to just crap out on me, but when I took it up to Best Buy to have the techs look at it, it worked just fine. Grrrr. That cost me $69.00 just to have them look at it and tell me that it had some hardware issues, needed a RAM upgrade and possibly had a Trojan virus. Great. $69.00 just to tell me what I already knew. The tech told me that to fix it could quickly run into the hundreds of dollars and he said he didn't know if I wanted to invest that kind of money in an older computer. I thought, "It's only 4 years old forchrist'ssake." He was talking to me like I was carrying a Commodore 64. So, I called Dad (since it was his credit card that was going to be used for whatever was done to my comp/purchased...or whatever) and he said for me to just get a new one and that when my student loans came in this semester that I would only owe him half the total amount of what the new computer cost. I thought that was a good deal since I paid for the last one all on my own and it was like $2500.00 (Sony Vaio Laptop). I think when I bought it, not many people had laptops and the computer companies were just trying to push them into the market that's why it was so expensive. But it was top of the line when I bought it (40G hard drive, 256K RAM, CD/DVD player/burner...among many other things). I thought it was the coolest thing since I found cute heels that I could wear all night and not feel like some 19th century Chinese woman had bound my feet.

Anyway, I got another Vaio laptop. This one is quite a bit smaller, only 6lbs., and it has quite a bit more RAM. I think 1G of RAM and 100G hard drive. The sales guy pointed out to me that the running speed was 750. I really don't remember the correct terminology for it. All in all, a major upgrade at less than half the price of my old one. This one was $1300.00, but with the $69.00 I paid to have them look at my old one, the Microsoft Office Suite that I had to buy (bc I need it for school; papers out the asshole to write) which was $129.99 ON SALE along with the installation fee for that software bc "new computers only come with a trial version of Microsoft Word"[How can a computer NOT come with Word? I find that ridiculous.](I can't remember how much it was, but I could've installed the bloody thing myself), the 3 year service agreement ($300.00) and the $99 I had to pay them for file transfer from my old hard drive to my new one (which wasn't all they said it would be, by the way. I'm rather disappointed with the Geek Squad in that regard.), the total came to be just over $2,000.00. At the end, the salesman was trying to ply me with laptop bags, of which the least expensive was $40.00. No thanks, I'll go somewhere a lot cheaper for the bag (if I even need it) thankyouverymuch.

I'm acting like the whole thing was a bad experience. It wasn't really. I was just sort of in shock that I had to give up my old computer. Not only that, but I would have to leave the new one overnight, which meant no internet for me for that night and for most of the rest of the next day. Don't feel too sorry for me. I felt sorry enough for myself, which is kind of weird. Not that I'm not used to feeling sorry for myself. I can really get to pity-pot-sitting sometimes. It's just that if the computer were here and I had had access to the internet like I normally do, I wouldn't have felt so in shock. I felt like someone had cut my umbilical cord or yanked me roughly away from my mother's breast. It's ridiculous. I know it is. But I was so anxious that night that I couldn't sleep even with my nighttime Klonopin and the next day I called the techs like every two hours once the store was open to check on the status of my computer. At one point, I was so anxious that I had to take an extra Klonopin. Am I addicted to my computer and to the internet? I guess I am. The first step toward recovery is admission, so they say. At least that's what they say in AA. Is there an IAA(Internet Addicts Anonymous)?

I just came in from going outside to see all the commotion of the entire subdivision where I live shooting off fireworks. I love fireworks, but when one landed on the roof of my house, I got to thinking, "Rednecks with explosives...possibly/most likely drunk/high rednecks with explosives. I hope my house doesn't catch fire or anyone else's for that matter." It is weird seeing people actually shooting off fireworks. I lived for so long within the city limits of Little Rock that I had almost forgotten what it was like to see fireworks in the neighborhood. (It's illegal to shoot them in the city limits of Little Rock, but I live right on the county line bw Saline and Pulaski County. Little Rock City Limits ends less than a mile from my house. hehe)

I guess that's enough witless wanderings for now. Next time, I'll tell everyone about how I acted like a strung out Meth-head looking for my non-existent Ibuprofen when I was on my period last week. That should be amusing...or not...depending on your tolerance level of gross-ness.

Oh yeah, Happy 4th every body!