I’m just not sure

I haven’t been posting like I normally do, and for that I am terribly sorry. I’ve started a new job which, while I enjoy it, isn’t quite panning out hours wise. It’s put me into mild panic mode.
I HAVE to go and talk to the financial aid people. I’m increasingly unhappy with how long it’s taken me, and even more increasingly terrified. This has put me into a mild despondent mode.
I have a family member who has been actively ignoring me for a few weeks now, right when I would’ve needed support in starting a new job and various other things. I said something they didn’t appreciate, and that was all it took for them to cut me out. Once again, I’ve realized that I’ve allowed someone to become far more important to me than I meant to them, and while I’ve recently heard from them, I’m just not sure I’m interested in putting in the effort any more. I love them, but I don’t think I can have that close of a relationship with someone who will drop me at the slightest hint of disagreement.
It’s exhausting and I’m already exhausted.
All this has added up to me being…
I don’t know what I’m being. I just don’t care about much anymore. And I know I need to fix that. I’m just not sure how, right now.


Happy Fried Rice Day

Valentines Day. I’m excited for it. Well, sort of. Not  it exactly, since the hubby and I won’t be celebrating on the actual day, but rather this Saturday since we work opposite shifts.

But still.

We are getting SHOGUN. The almighty Japanese food with the almightiest of almighty fried rice.

So commence the anti-valentines day rants, you bitter bitchez.

I’m gonna be stuffing my face with food.

I wonder if the sentient pink smoke likes coffee…

20130212-090942.jpgSo, I have worked here for over a year, and in all that time I have not once spilled coffee or any other liquid in this office. Now that I’m in my last week, lookit what I managed to do!

Figures. Also, the damage was much larger than that, but seeing as I had a small, very hot, tidal wave of caffeine creating a dazzling waterfall effect near numerous electronics not belonging to me, I waited until the completion of the Kleenex Dam to snap a picture.

Oh, did I not mention I have a new job?

I do. A new job which I won’t be blogging about due to privacy laws and such and such.

But I do have a new job! No joblessness for me, no sir.

I am excited, but being the vaguely crazy person that I am, I am also bone chillingly terrified and stressed.

Being the vaguely crazy person that I am, this stress has instantly translated itself into increased night terrors, mania, and an impending sense of unavoidable Doom.

I hate change. I hate it so much that while I was trying to nap yesterday, swaddled by a bundle of cats who were all too happy to hog the covers, I kept being awakened by annoyingly persistent sentient pink smoke.

Yeah, I said it.

Sentient. Pink. Smoke.

In this exact shade of pink. In case you were wondering.

In this exact shade of pink. In case you were wondering.

Admittedly not as terrifying as some of the other things I have seen while in a relaxed (well…meant to be relaxed) state.  But still….sentient pink smoke so totally does not exist, and therefore having your room fill with it is quite unsettling.

I also spent most of the day being hyper aware of sound. I swear to you, someone jacked my house up while I was trying to nap and dropped it in the middle of a NASCAR track. That is the only explanation for the amount of nose filtering in through my ear hole.

Needless to say I’m quite tired today. And I will probably spend most of Sunday hiding in a closet somewhere refusing to come out until I can have my old job back.

Even though I want the new job.

Because I make no sense.

P.S. Now my elbows are sticking to my desk. Sadness.

It’s simple logic, Kroger. Get it together!

20130211-143422.jpgEvery month I refill my prescriptions, and every month this is what they give me. See that big ass bottle up there? That’s got a pill the size of the ‘o’ on your keyboard. They only put 30 in there. See that tiny ass bottle? Yeah, they cram 30 of those horse pills in there.

Simple question.



Post-Hibernation Freak Out

Holy fuuuuuuuck,

I’m so antsy I can barely see straight. I’m gonna go ahead and call this manic, even though it is by no means as pleasant as manias tend to be for me. It’s more like being stuck in tiny crevice between hysterical and soul crushing panic attack with OCD looming over your head, restrained only by a tiny piece of cinnamon flavored floss.

It’s like having a constant nervous tick in both your arms and chest and if you don’t find something to do now, and I mean like right this damn second then your brain is gonna explode all over the computer screen but it’ll be ok because then at least you can be distracted by cleaning it obsessively with office kleenex and hand sanitizer.

It’s like taking three too many puffs on an inhaler because you thought for a second you were going to die, but now you think maybe this is worse than the not breathing at all because HOLY FUCK THE JITTERS!

I’m not joking about the jitters, people. I look like I’m seizing a little bit. I’m also afraid I’ll sound like a crazy person if I talk so I’m just gonna shut up and be silent and try my best to focus on this paperwork that has insufferably small print, that normally you can read just fine, but since your eyeballs are doing a tango inside your skull the letters look all wobbly and fuzzy and OMG WHY CAN’T I HOLD A PEN?????

If I weren’t too cheap to pay so that I can insert videos into this blog I would show you what I mean. I’m firmly convinced that all the actors in videos who are old and featured in one of those “awwwwe, that’s so sad moments” where they are trying to eat corn but can’t because it keeps flying off the fork due to their un-ending seizing are not really old, but just manic as all fuck.

That’s what I look like!

I’m the little old man from Fried Green Tomatoes who didn’t kill that evil bastard, but would’ve if he hadn’t gotten punched right the fuck in the face and who really wishes you would listen to him about not eating the BBQ.

FOR GOD SAKES GIVE THE MAN A BIGGER SPOON! I mean seriously, you’re just gonna watch him fail to eat three kernels of corn all hour and instead of thinking, gee, this is a restaurant and I have lots of ladles so maybe I should give him something a little less balance challenging, you’re just gonna watch him and then eventually give him a blanket? Because that’s gonna quell the insatiable hunger gurgling for corn deep within his bowels, a tiny blanket!You bitch. You just sit there and enjoy your perceived superiority to poor old Smokey Lonesome. You. Just. Sit. Because one day it’ll be you who can’t eat your goddamn corn and you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna do the “I have a ladle dance” and wiggle around your perimeter going “I bet you wish you’d given him a better spoon now, dontcha? DONTCHA???”

Except I’m a woman and not that old and I don’t usually like BBQ anyways so I’m a little biased.

Heaven help me if someone gives me soup.

So, since I feel like I’ll have a panic attack if I stop moving I guess I’ll start a project tonight.


Do dishes.

Sweep house.

Paint and antique the fuck out of the nightstand that you think is boring and only bought because your mom insisted that you need a nightstand, but now you’re kind of glad you have it because you can test this antiquing decoupage thing out on it before you tackle your boring ass front door.



Well, a classic bipolar moment for me occurred yesterday, despite my best intentions.

I call it hibernating.

I don’t know what finally got to me. Lord knows enough is changing right now to have set it off.  I’ve never done well with change and it seems I come by that naturally through my mother. But, no matter what the exact cause (honestly, sometimes there is no exact) after I got home I ate a bowl of chili, sat on the couch briefly, and then….laid down.

And I didn’t get back up.

I knew it was probably a mistake as I climbed into the covers. Yes, I was tired. I’ve gotten my medicines all mixed up and have missed some synthroid. Being tired is to be expected, but I knew damn well if I let myself lay down that I probably wouldn’t move again.

At first I slept in clothes, because I was going to get up in an hour and a half.

But then I didn’t.

I groggily turned off my alarm when it started blaring in my ear, and rolled over, kicking off my socks. I set the alarm for 30 minutes later.

When that alarm went off I turned it off, and shimmied out of my yoga pants, scooting farther into my mound of blankets.

When the next alarm went off, I was out of denial mode and deep into the “fuck this” mode.

I felt a little sick to my stomach, so I just laid there, not even bothering to reset the alarm.

I slept straight from 6:00pm- when I got up for work today.

Nothing got me up. I didn’t get up when it was time to go to the gym.

I didn’t get up when my phone went off more than a dozen times.

I didn’t get up when John got home.

And  I didn’t get up when the nightmares started.

When the depression is really bad I’ll do this at least once a week. It’s been a long time since the last time, so I guess I should be some what happy about that, but mostly I’m just disappointed. I had things to do, things I needed to do, that will still be sitting there when I get home.

There’s really no point in dwelling on it though.

I’ll just have to do better today.

Suddenly Paranoid

This is how I wear my scarf. I find it to be the most effective way to keep my neck all fuzzy and warm. Today, on the way down in the elevator I suddenly think about how, if they wanted to, a crazy person could grab either end and effectively choke me to death.


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