When Projection Is All I Can Manage

I can't sleep again tonight and have no reason to give. The horrors that have happened to me periodically crash through my being and I am reminded that no one knows. Sometimes I think I should tell someone but most times I do not. Instead, I project myself onto someone other's story, song, fad, whatever. Sometimes I wonder if my time will come.



Born into Nixon, I was raised in hell.
A welfare child where the teamsters dwell.
The last one born, the first one to run.
My town was blind from the refinery sun.


My generation is zero.
I never made it as a working class hero.


I was made of poison and blood.
Condemnation is what I understood.
Videogames of the tower's fall
Homeland security could kill us all.


I swallowed my pride
and I choked on my faith
I've given my heart and my soul
I've broken my fingers
and lied through my teeth
the pillar of damage control
I've been to the edge
and I've thrown the bouquet
of flowers left over the grave
I sat in the waiting room
wasting my time
and waiting for judgment day


21st century breakdown.
I once was lost but never was found.
I think I'm losing what's left of my mind
To the 20th century deadline.

dream, American dream.

I can't even sleep.

from the light's early dawn

scream, American scream!

BELIEVE what you see

from heroes and cons.

Drenched

He won't give me my belongings. There is a court order that he signed reading that he would give me my belongings. It's been months now. Tomorrow is the most recent promised date that he would bring them but now he will not. As always, he has disappeared into nowhere. He will not allow me to come and get them.


I can't even get my car in my own name as ordered. One month he has lost the car title then the next month he has it only to not give it to me anyway. It seems that everywhere I turn there is a roadblock with his name on it. He told me all I have to do to get my name removed from the checking account is to go to the bank but I get there to find out it is not true all the while I have to deal with rogue bills that go to that account and come back haunting me even more.


All these things hit me at night when I am the most vulnerable. The stress of it ties tight knots into my neck causing my jaws to pound and my head to ache. Another week has started with me feeling overwhelmed and out of control of the least little thing. I know I need to get a grip -- an attitude change -- but haven't been able to make it happen. I'm so tired.

In a few hours, I'll have to start another work week with this. Earlier I was wondering if I should start a war instead of fighting one.

My Photo There

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know YOUR enemy?
Gotta know the enemy, right here!

Silence is the enemy
Against your urgency
So rally up the demons of your soul

Insurgency will rise
When the blood's been sacificed
Don't be blinded by the lies in your eyes

Overthrow the effigy
The vast majority
Burning down the foreman of control

What ails you is what impales you
I'm a victim of my symptom
I am my own worst enemy.
You are your own worst enemy.
Know your enemy.

A Much-Needed 21st Century Breakdown

Whether or not Green Day could come out with a better album than American Idiot was not questionable to me -- it was simply NOT impossible. Turns out, I was right AND wrong.


After almost five years in the making, the latest Green Day album, 21st Century Breakdown, came out last month and immediately topped the charts. It is completely new yet along the lines of American Idiot and just as superior ... did that make sense?


I don't even buy hard copies of albums anymore but I supported the cause and was shelling out my duckets at Best Buy on the day of the release.


21st Century Breakdown continues the similar rock-opera format as that of American Idiot. Though the story is loose and open to interpretation, it evolves around two symbolic characters "Gloria" and "Christian." Divided up into three "acts", both characters evolve over time and are easily identifiable in the age we live in.


In their interview with Steve Baltin, Green Day members explained that "Gloria was intended to be a more inspired person while Christian was to be more self-destructive ... both characters are easy to relate to ... There are some times when you feel very connected to your ideology and beliefs and then there are other times that they are so questioned that you fall into a self-destructive attitude ... overall, the record is about finding the truth for yourself."


I'm sure I'll be blogging more about this album as much as I did with Bullet in a Bible. It seems to reach every emotion and has touched me as deeply as did the last. I think anyone could listen to it, interpret it differently, yet be moved in the same way. Thanks to Green Day for something else to hold on to.

Let the Pillar of Damage Control Burn

"Whup whup-whup-whup ... Whup whup-whup-whup ... Whup whup-whup-whup ... Whup whup-whup-whup ..."

... this is the sound the toilet has been making for the past few days when I shower ... or maybe the whole week ... i lose track ...

I know that i should phone the land-lady about it, especially since i've been having to manually drain the washer to keep it from flooding over the drain in the floor ... and especially now that a pool of water began to rise in the bathtub as i showered.

It seems that i just can't bear to speak to people lately. Struggle all day to be something that I am not only to come home and hide in bottles of Negra Dos Equis, Heineken, and the latest Green Day album. Sometimes all i can do is watch it burn and wait to see which way the wind takes it ... or not.

Myopia

Near the end of my second week at the new job, I might finally be winding down from the stress of the change. By noon on the first day alone, my neck was as stiff as steel and everything went downhill from there as I crashed into a black depression. I was not expecting such an intense reaction. There are multiple factors at play but the most important one was the loss of laughter. Despite all the turmoil at my last job, I genuinely laughed for the first time in three years and had not laughed so much since college - seventeen years ago. People make a difference. I hope I don't have to wait another seventeen years.

This Silence Is Our Enemy

Countless people have told me to move on and leave the trauma behind. I tell myself that they just don't know any better -- just some here, some there. I feel ashamed as if I have failed somehow ... as if I am being difficult and masochistic. Most days I get up, go to a job, come home, pay my bills, and do those normal things when there was a time when I could do none of those things. No one knows though that.

Soldiers come home from war and can no longer relate to those around them so they turn to each other for support. I've met other survivors but no one that I could ever relate to and certainly no place to go home to. No one knows.

Move on? I'm so terrified to go to sleep at night that I either have to drink pills or stay up all night shooting XBOX pixels. Otherwise, like last night, I lose my breath and choke on the bile that rises from somewhere at the bottom of my throat. Sometimes, a wailing sound comes from a place buried away outside my realm of consciousness. How can I move on? This is just part of my night life alone.

I am your peer. I look average. I am average height and average build. I might wear khakis and a polo shirt or Levis with a nice blouse or t-shirt. I share the coffee machine with you. I complain about the morning commute with you. I picked up the cereal that fell from your shopping cart or helped you with your computer problem. You might know I have issues but, really, you DO NOT know.

I DO know and I don't think you would believe me if I told you anyway. There are no support groups for me. Most people with my history are shooting up, on the streets, institutionalized, are memory-less, or dead. So do not judge people so easily, whether they seem odd or do not seem odd, because you just don't know.

I'll save the rest for later.

Water Delivers

It is amazing what water, food, and rest will do to a person in just a couple of days. Last week left me burned crisp and insane but despite the broken XBOX controller and the related small holes in the wall, I'm feeling better. Tomorrow I start a new job and I can say that I am as ready as I ever would be. I have even ironed some clothes.

Hands Gagged Mouth Tied

So, I made a list of things to try with new people as well as a list of things to just try. Knowing this would be a holiday weekend, I made multiple plans and they all have flopped. It was a bad week anyway.

I'm trying to move on without the marriage and without really depending on anyone else for doing so but I must be hexed. The haunt of the marriage will never go away it seems. For months, I've been trying to get stuff done to close out the settlement and put the divorce to rest but I am damned.

I can't renew the license to my car because of him, I can't get MY name off joint checking accounts because of him, I can't find my belongings because of him, etc. This week I've argued with the license bureau, the bank, the government and I've lost them all because they won't let me do anything withOUT HIM. Do these things matter to him? As always, he is too busy to be available for comment so the answer is "No."

Weakest Linked

My brain woke me up this morning. It was shivering so fast that, at first, I thought there was an earthquake but later dismissed it as panic. For the two previous mornings, my heart woke me up with an arrhythmia that I was afraid would not get back into normal mode. I assume that was panic as well.

I suppose today was the worst. With little sleep and not much food to keep down, I've had to take two heart pills and a couple of Klonopin. I have not taken Klonopin during the day for a long time.

Last night as I lay in bed, all the fear hurricaned my thoughts around in my head. I knew that it would be better to get out of bed and take some sort of action but I seemed frozen there with exhaustion.

I kept wondering how much more change I can take without shattering beyond repair. Change is the only constant in life and this I know; but ... I can't accept it anymore ... it has simply become unacceptable.

All this and I start a new job next week. It is a high-risk job so I fear I will not succeed. After working ten-hour days the past couple of weeks I am burned dry with nothing left. I am probably catastrophizing by envisioning myself as homeless or as having a stroke and being rendered unable to care for myself with no one to care for me ... and no money.

Somehow, I've got to pull it together over this weekend. When I finally got to eat lunch today at 3PM in the afternoon, all I could do was giggle because I had accidentally knocked the waitress's tablet under the table and she could not find it. Due to my stifled giggling, I could not tell her where it was.

The giggling has been happening allot lately as well. Others find it entertaining but I am not amused by it. I get tired just thinking about it. I have never been diagnosed as Bipolar but I am sure it is some sort of mania ... perhaps from fatigue or perhaps from too much coffee and sugar.

Today I was driving through a parking lot when I saw a girl walking right into the path of my car. I slowed to a stop and sat there watching as she walked INTO the front of my car. She kind of bumped her knees and just continued on her way. All I could wonder was if some toxin is in the air making us all insane. I don't know.

Pulling 70+ -- An Addendum

As a follow-up to what I wrote here (where I was complaining about my job), I don't want to sound inconsiderate to those who would love to be overworked. While my complaints are valid, I am not insensitive to the current number of unemployed people who are going through very frightening times right now. I am grateful, for now, to have a job but I am aware that it could end at any moment.

Pulling 70+

... So another company had offered me a position 2 or 3 times over the past month but I turned them down because it did not seem to be a stable company. But, last weekend, my management staff got into it with the CEO so that yesterday we were told that we are to work mandatory 10-hr days (at least ), 7 days a week, for the next 60 days or as long as it takes. We are to report our progress in the morning and then every evening. Anyone not regularly meeting their goals will be shipped out at the end. If none of us can meet our goals then the software development work will be contracted out to a firm (in INDIA !). It is beyond me how he thinks he can get ANY firm (who does not know the product!) a set of requirements as to what the customer wants if he cannot get it to his own developers so I only assume he was blowing steam.

Regardless, for quite some time now I have spent anywhere from 5 - 20 hours a week WAITING on a bottle-necked co-worker and other management to get work to me. I've even offered to do the business part for them just to get the process moving but no one had been concerned ... until now ... when I have to make up for their screw-ups with 70+ hour weeks.

The company that is pursuing me raised the offer in salary and I took it. I do not know what will happen. I actually really do like it here but it is so crazy that if they do not get their software development process under control then I do not see how they can pay me at all. It does not help that our main bottle-neck is a very angry man who rips into the rest of us on such a regular basis that I did not realize how little confidence I have left until I seriously considered changing over. I'm not sure I can even pull any weight at another company.

I've gotten very little in the way of documentation about what it is I am supposed to code. This week Mr. BottleNeck got so angry at me that he grabbed my notebook and started yelling and writing instructions about who-knows-what. I was glad to get something on paper but then he walked out the door ranting and took the darn notebook!

Since I changed careers years ago, I have been grateful to be in a field where employees are in demand but software development everywhere seems to be a large hole-in-the-pocket. No one can get the process to work and money bleeds all over the place. People think we have a high salary but they do not compare the salary / hours-worked ratio. I don't know very many people in this field who do NOT have some type of cardiovascular disease and many work 70-hour-weeks in sweat-shops as the NORM. All this and our jobs still get shipped overseas. They claim we can't develop but it is management who can't manage. Honestly, I think software developers in the US need a union.

It is possible that I missed something somewhere -- that I did not do something I should have or did something that I should not have -- but ... I can't imagine what. I am more sorry than anyone that I am too slow. Here I am and this is where I am.

I do not know what people see when they look at me but I know that it is not what I used to think. There is no way they can see that this is a prison or what put me here. I do not know how anyone could even imagine so how could I have thought that they did. I am aware that other people are brave and go on. There is nothing I can say to that. I have no dispute to voice. If I fall then I have no place to get back up to.

running

I can't slow down. If I would just plan ahead for simple things -- like taking a sleeping pill early enough or what am I going to eat for dinner -- then my life would be easier and I would feel better but I just can't slow down. No, I am not manic. That is one diagnosis I have not accrued ... but who knows, I haven't checked the latest DSM either.

The problem is that I'm running -- always running. I run so much that I get nothing done. If I am walking through the house to put something in the laundry room then I get distracted and pick up something else then get distracted and start another task and soon enough the laundry room is forgotten until I go to try and find whatever it is I was trying to relocate.

Work is the worst. I cannot focus. Today I had to escape to an empty office because the noise and walls were strangling me. I do not understand why it is so difficult to manage software development. I know that there are too many variables for anything to be exact but, crap, we have such huge bottlenecks that I'm often left with nothing to do but wait for the seemingly inevitable pink slip and if I do not learn how to control my stress over it then I'm going to end up in worse shape than ever. I like this company and don't want a new job either. Gawd, the world is being run by idiots.

I do not know how to stop running. I want to -- truly I do. This must be a bad one to keep me moving so much. I hope I can get through it instead of running past it all the time.

Too Many Dots

Today was like free-fall through hell. I do not know what comes over me. It is not the first time -- this I have gathered from my words. We scrunch the jagged edges of the puzzle relentlessly to see where each part fits. Suddenly it is like I do not know who I am or where I've been. Again, nothing new, but I thought this had passed. I find I have been doing things all along that I have not known about.

I feel like a broken movie fragmenting back and forth out of order from one minute to the next. Static fuzz crackle and how to get something done for my crazy job with no work to do.

My guidance is slipping and I fell more thinking about it but dragged out the box and began to write without even having to look inside. I don't even stop to eat or drink. At some point though, I WILL have to look. There are too many dots. These dots are all over the place : ... ... ...

whether or not to worry about the chairs

She says to give up the shame and self-blame -- that I am worrying about the deck chairs when the whole Titanic is going down.

I do not know why some things stick and some do not. Last week she drew a longitudinal diagram of my events. I have to see the whole sum and not just one part.

Pixelated bitmaps swirl within my head and soul in such a tidal wave that there is nothing more I can do for this day but to come home, take my pills, hope for sleep, and hope that if I am awake tomorrow that I can get up and fulfill duties at my job while it lasts.

Pointless

"Yours is a mind that contains many, many rooms with bolted doors. When you enter into any given room then you are horrified and devastated only to run and slam the door behind. Though, heart-wrenching to experience such a room, you continue on through each room in a similar manner in some grand hope to conquer this maze. This would not be so bad if you could consolidate these chambers into one sky-view so that you may see that they are all there in the same building.

Instead, you forget the last room ... and the room previous to that ... and so on. You forget to the point that you often forge on into the same room many times only to needlessly re-experience the terror as if you had never known such insanity before. I do not need to tell you that this is self-defeating. It is not detail you need ... it is not necessary to live in these rooms again ... it is not necessary to even leave the doors open .. but you will need to know that they ALL exist and what they ALL represent. You cannot proceed further until you master this."

Two Tickets - One Person

So, I've been trying to move on since the divorce. I've moved out of the small apartment to something a little larger and more comfortable. Trudging along, I continue in my therapy while trying to hold down a job that might die in a few months. Except for the viral/flu/whatever-bout, my health has been overall better.

Those moments still happen though ... for example, I'll come across an old shirt or something that smells of our home together and then I start to cry. He does well without me but I miss him terribly. Then today someone at work was offering box seats to MLB games that were still available and I automatically selected the Cubs tickets without realizing that I'm not the Cubs fan ... the Cubs fan has gone on without me. Now I have two tickets to a game but only myself to take.

The Queen

I watched the "Secret Life of Bees" tonight. Yes, I know that I probably should not have. Having read the book, I swore off going to the theater to see it but somehow it ended up on my Blockbuster list and arrived in the mail yesterday.

Nothing horrific in the movie -- it was fairly typical ... I don't do well with anything associated with someones mother-issues. Psychoanalysts get a bad rap when they end up all trips around the couch with something someones mother did or did not do but it is not because they are off the mark.

That is all I can manage to say about that which I cannot think, even more, speak of. Some of us will die if stung by a bee. I think I would die if I even spoke of one out loud.

One Soup Bowl

That Friday morning I had awoken with a sore throat and noticed white lumps growing inside. The move was the next day so I kept packing way into the AM. By Saturday afternoon the growths had spread up and down both sides of my throat so I found my bed amidst mounds of cardboard boxes and crawled in for the night but it was not long until I was oscillating between chills and hot flashes.

I was sick and alone in a strange house so I phoned someone who informed me that I definitely had the strep and needed to gargle and get lots of fluids. Feverish, I stumbled through the place but could not manage to find anything but an oddly-shaped soup bowl/cup. I was afraid I would die so I gargled and drank out of this until the next day when I could get to a doctor.

With no phone or Internet, I felt completely isolated since I could not Google to locate a doctor or find a pharmacy or view strep symptoms.

There was no one else to call and certainly no one to help. I do not know how I made it through the next five days. At some point I managed to locate a can of soup. The thought that I would die alone and know one would notice for a long time kept playing through in my head.

Boxes of stuff -- this is really the sum of my existence on this planet. This many decades and my only proof of me lie in some cardboard boxes. I've produced no family, little furniture, and no home. It seems as if I have worked allot but I am not sure what. Education? My sanity?

These things do not make for the best companionship in my new world.

Shameless and Gameless

Ok, so today I went out to grab some lunch but somehow ended up at my phone / internet provider's store to search for a way to get DSL access ASAP. The sales lady asked me why it is so urgent and I told her I use the DSL for work (true statement.) I was impressed that she was so understanding. She asked if I would like to borrow an air card to tide me over.

This air card could very possibly cause allot of lag time for Halo so I lied and insinuated that I am developing and testing an application for (a prominent client we have) that requires me to run the connection through my XBox. At that point, she began to work on getting my DSL access earlier. She'll let me know tomorrow.

As soon I walked out of the shop, I realized the shamefulness of my actions. When had I ever stooped so low before? I'm sure I must have at some point. Do I need to attend a twelve-step group?

The irony is the hypocrisy of it all. Earlier in the day I had been thinking about my time working in social services. I refused to work with substance abusers because they lie so much. They get into such a habit of lying to cover up their addictions that they don't even realize when they are lying and that drove me crazy. There were other staff members more suited to dealing with addictions and I had other specialties but wow ... how odd.

I know that this will come back to bite me. I'd bet that next month I get billed for two services and two installations and it will take six months to straighten out. Maybe I'll cancel the second request?

NO MORE XBOX LIVE FOR ME

Seriously, I laid down to get some sleep then I realized that I am going to be out of DSL for a little over a week. I tell myself "Ok, I say, Ok, I'll make it.." But then it hit and hit hard -- NO MORE XBOX LIVE FOR ME. NO MORE HALO JUST AFTER GETTING THE HAYABUSA ARMOR. That is when I could not fall asleep and have been up pacing and doing mindless tasks.

FOR THE LOVE OF SANITY I DO NOT KNOW HOW I WILL SURVIVE.

Why the loss? I am moving. I am moving about 20 minutes away and they can't get my g**&&^%$$ service back up. I'm going to have to take XBOX to people's houses to ride off their DSL. I'm appalled at my reaction and it is clear that my addiction has far surpassed any I had expected. I JUST CAN'T STAND THE STRESS I TELL YOU. I NEED TO GET A GRIP BUT FOR THE LOVE OF ALL SANITY HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE? ALL THE STRESS I HAVE AND MY ONE ONE ONE ONE AND ONLY VICE IS GOING TO BE TAKEN AWAY.

Campaign mode? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Still haven't played Cock of Doody 4? WHO CARES?!?!? I HAVE THE HAYABUSA ARMOR AND A NEW VIDEO CAPTURE DEVICE COMING IN TO HELP ME WITH MY NEXT MONTAGE TO CELEBRATE THE ARMOR!!!

HERE IT COMES:

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Here I was feeling bad for the Appalachia peoples and I can't live with out XBOX Live. SHAMEFUL! DISGRACE! PANIC! I AM SO LOST!

Fright Night Friday's Gets Better

Yesterday I uploaded a post I wrote last Friday, 2/13/09. I had unknowingly replaced Fright Night Friday with with reality tv and decided that I must no longer watch these shows because, for the most part, they are ... um ... some rich executive's attempt to make money off people in turmoil. So how did I do?

Last night I successfully avoided Wife-Swap. There have been times when the show was tastefully done and entertaining and it appeared as if some good had come out of it but the last two episodes only displayed malformed egos ranting and raving at one another. If I wanted to witness that then I'd go find someone in my own family so that I could at least slap someone (that is a saying of mine which has never come to real.)

Next up was SuperNanny. This episode was not as good as the last few but I did fall right into it. I have decided that this show is not tasteless and educational. Plus, Jo-Jo Frost is just too cute! (I rarely use the phrase "too cute!")

20/20 came on next and had an update to the previous week's show on "Hidden In America: Children of the Mountains." It appears that after airing last week's show, many people have come forward to help these unfortunate people. I had been touched by last week's show enough to get a plan together as to what could I do to help. I had not yet acted on it and most likely will not do so anytime soon but by seeing the giving of others, I felt a hope for people in general that I had not felt for a long time.

I, too, grew up in extreme poverty for the longest time. Eventually, both my parents managed jobs so that food and clothing and a warmer house was available. Though we still had to get our dental needs met on a bus. Despite the hardships, it was nothing like the Appalachia people.

I'm going to make a plan and hopefully follow through with it.

Fright Night Friday's Gets Worse

Last Friday I wrote this blog entry:

When I was married, my husband worked most Fridays. Since he did not share my appreciation for horror flicks, I often rushed to Blockbuster after work to snag something monstrous to take advantage of my free night. He would always know when I'd scored an especially heinous rental because the door to the basement would be locked and all lights on when he came home. I think I blogged about this in the past.

Since the divorce, I do not have so many Fright Fridays. Since my company moved one-to-two-hour commute away, Friday nights have turned into sitting-on-the-sofa-staring-at-whatever channel was on the I clicked the remote.

It was last Friday that I realized what exactly it was that I had been watching for the past couple of months. If you knew me you would not believe my new line-up: Wife Swap, SuperNanny, and 20/20.

Fright Night Fridays had turned into emotional-roller-coaster up-and-down Fridays. Last night alone, I rode the coaster with two completely different families fighting then uniting (leaving me in happy and sad tears), then another family with horrific marital woes and crazed kids managing to supposedly find peace (leaving me in happy and sad tears), then a cover story on all of those heart-breaking Appalachian families that America neglects (leaving me in happy and sad tears).

Because people take medicine for the types of emotional mood-swings I've been having every Friday for the past couple of months, I'm swearing off the wife-swapping-supernanny shows; though, I am going to do some research on the Appalachian-tragedies. We'll see how it goes.

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TNEOI!! what else is there for me to do?

I do not know how to change it. My shoulder started hurting in kindergarten when i wrote on the chalkboard. I tried very hard not to cry.

She always got so angry. I never knew when or why. A jerk here or a tug there. Why was I so weird? Why was I so "backwards"? Why couldn't I be like everyone else? Why can't I stand up straight? Am I a hunchback?

Finally, she started taking me to doctors who had no answer for her.

The physical therapist gives me the green rubber band to work with and small cartoon sample pictures to imitate. I hung one by my desk at work. Fibromyalgia, pinched nerve ... whatever it is they are calling it this month. The one thing they all say consistently is that I need to improve my posture. Otherwise, no one really wants to deal with it. I know it is up to me.

I do not know how to change it. I've tried dealing with the source of it all but she just won't leave. I catch myself throughout the day. I imagine I must look like a turtle or like Star Wars' Hammerhead or like Halo's Arbiter. Perhaps, I don't look very odd at all. I have never been able to tell. I try to pull my shoulders back and my chin in.

I do want to change. I know that now is the time to start making things right and to break old patterns. Allot of people would like to see me do allot of things ... as would I. When I think I am doing them then I find out that I am not and am disappointed.

My Diploma vs. My Wallet

A while back, 20/20 aired a story discussing the mis-perception that people must go to college to get a good job with good pay. Since I have had the same thoughts, I was interested to hear the report. After all, this is a package that I paid (and am still paying) for.

Within my first year out of graduate school, I began to wonder if there would ever be a financial payoff for my higher education. My intent was to complete a PhD in social services -- if I could ever pay off what student loan debt I had already accumulated. However, I was barely able to pay rent on a one-bedroom apartment. Not long after, I learned that my nephews were making more than I by migrating straight from high school to jobs in a local factory.

I tried to rationalize that sitting in a nice office doing good for humanity was the better way to go but it was a year later that the bottom line fell and I started night classes at a local technical college. A year later, I had doubled my salary by taking a job in information technology.

Each month I grimace when the student bill is due. Recently, when I realized that though I have been paying on my student loan for ten years and still have another ten to go, I pondered defaulting on the loan.

The report went on to state that "the bachelor's degree is America's most overrated product" and that colleges purposely mislead students to believe that the only way to a higher salary is a higher education. Looking back at some of the millions of dollars my alma-mater has made in faculty housing and campus amenities (such as a gigantic water fountain which blocks access to the library), I can't help but compare it to a smaller-scale version of Citigroup intending to purchase a $50 million dollar jet with taxpayer funds. Thus, I concur, college degrees are mis-represented and we probably have another case of taxpayer-money-mismanagement.

That being said, if I had to make the decision again, then I would still have gotten my bachelor's degree. Graduate school in social services is another matter entirely, but my undergraduate degree was worth every penny - even in interest. Aquiring a wide range of knowledge broadened my small-town education exponentially. The social lessons alone, were priceless and the "book-learning" not far behind.

When I first started to work in a large corporation, I was completely amazed that senior management could not write a proper and effective e-mail because their writing skills were so poor. I can't say much good about their verbal communication skills either. I remember getting secret bonuses just to WRITE stuff that was outside my job description. But regardless, as mentioned in the episode, perhaps it is not so much the college diploma as much as it is the person that determines any student's success.

Either way, I 100% believe that what quality of life I manage to have now would be gone if I had not went to college. In fact, considering all the issues I have to deal with now, life itself probably would have ended for me by now.

In any event, purchase only as much as you need and the old adage "buyer-beware" still applies.

Somewhere around 9am I awoke lying in a fog again at the bottom of blackness. Momentarily disoriented, I had to look back up to see what had happened. There he sat at my desk, in disgust, dismantling my code as if it were a virus. "It's taken you 40 hours to do a 3-hour job, no - since it is you - a 6-hour job ... and it's STILL not done."

That was the point where slippage merged into this fall. I will not argue that it has indeed been a failure on my part. Mud and fog have blocked every neural path in my brain so that there is no way I can chug out even one decent block of code.

After physically removing myself from the facility, my eyes gutted themselves for about five hours straight as I worked to sort out this latest meltdown.

Looking back, the tension at work had been building for over a week and was inevitable but I did not see it. The blindness had overtaken me again to the point where I could not recall the last time I'd eaten or slept a whole night. Except for a half-quart of expired milk, a tablespoon of butter, and something resembling potatoes, there is nothing in the fridge and the cats have one can of food left as well. I can't imagine how I am going to drag myself out to not only buy but eat something.

Forty-three days after the divorce and I've got tanks shooting from places I did not know existed. This divorce I can deal with but these things are ruthless.

Keep What You Steal

Throughout the separation and divorce I banged my head against the wall in frustration wondering how could it be that two people who truly cared for each other so much could NOT work out their marriage. Today I found the answer and like many other twisted deceptions, it was glaring in plain sight all along.

It was the very sentence I uttered that held the truth -- "... TWO people who TRULY CARED for each other ..." He did not hate me but he instead felt nothing and I think that may be where I got lost and have been stumbling around for the past years. How would I have known anything else.

I think it had began to sink in a couple of months ago but just hit me today. Anyway, the worse part is that this is probably the sum of the majority of our marriage of 11 years, 4 months, and 28 days.

I should have known that if anyone were to steal my heart then of course it would be thrown it away. Thieves have no honor.

The Weight of Subconscious Expectations

It was the last day of 2008 when I learned that the papers had been signed, notarized, and the divorce complete. I did not feel sad or happy -- free or burdened -- angry or peaceful. I felt nothing but the same.

My marital status is divorced but my heart remains unchanged. I still easily refer to him as 'my husband' and do not know what to refer to the man who has played such an influential role in my heart. I can't bear the term 'EX-husband.' I think this will pass with time but other things I am not so sure.

On Fridays, I come home from work and suddenly am sad when I realize that he has not phoned and we have no plans for the evening. I was never aware that I had hoped or expected to have contact with him. Even more odd, the same thing also happens on Saturdays and Sundays. I go about my days then suddenly I am hit with a sadness when I realize that he is gone. This at least happens once during the work week as well.

It is not as if I am not trying to move on; likewise, it is not as if I do not ever phone him because I do.

The only idea I can surmise is that this must have been a pattern dating back for years. Though the dance looks different the steps are the same.

The worst blows are those that seem to come from nowhere. I don't know what happened so just take your pick.

I'm distraught by bedtime panic and the sick dread of nightmares. I thought that they had moved on.

I am so afraid to fall asleep that I may have to find a hidey to curl into. Elm Street has nothing on whatever bastard is lurking around in my subconscious - ready to attack.

I'm suspecting that this is related to today's frequent visits to bathroom stall #1 to secretly unleash tears that come from a hidden primal closet somewhere in the back of my walls.

In any event, I made an appointment with the professional tomorrow so I will miss work and catch the wrath for that but I figure it is better than the gastric lavage I seem to be headed for.

The ache of it throbs from each shoulder up through my tight and knotted neck leaving my jaw stiff and my eyes about to explode from the pressure.

Cruel that we escape only to return. Has my head not endured enough? The girl lying next to me just stares. She's been through worse - they all have and frequently remind me of it because I still don't seem to get it.

I don't think the cats see them. No one does because they all want me to die. They throw reflective listening crap in my face as if they were any good at it to begin with. Their resignation to my self-destruction has deeply set in but I have nowhere else to turn so there is nothing I can do.

Dirty Tiles

I am on the bathroom floor staring at pill bottles. The apartment has been trashed and I have no memory of it. I am in allot of pain. My neck & jaw & back hurt so much that I want to die. This is the worst time of the year for fibro but I don't know that is why I am having pain. I've done the worksheets. I've come up with my own assignments but these are no good. Nothing works.

After I first escaped from the parents and started to recover I had a reoccurring feeling regarding the torture from the mother -- how embarrassing and painful to matter so little as a human being that I could be discarded in such a manner. How could I have NOT blamed myself.

No matter what therapy I do, I just repeat it. disregarded, trashed, etc.

No one has ever wanted me around for very long unless they need something. My ex-husband is glad I am gone and is better off. I am glad he is doing well but I shamefully admit that I would like to be worth enough to be missed by him; though, that is why I left, correct? I have learned to want myself around. This took a long time but I had hoped this would be enough but I screw so many things up. My life and my environment are in such disarray that I wonder if perhaps I should have been locked away.

Sunday-Before-Work-Monday-Anxiety

I have the Sunday-Before-Work-Monday anxieties.

First, there was the loss of health insurance which resulted in the "high-deductible health plan" (HDHP) which caused me to for-go multiple health treatments.

Second, the office had to be relocated an extra hour away so that my daily commute has been AT LEAST two hours a day.

Third, we were informed that due to the drastic budget-cuts of ALL our corporate customers, matching 401K has ceased to exist, we have all had to take a significant pay cut, AND we now have to pay all premiums that go along with our HDHP. Now I cannot afford the physical therapy prescribed for a pinched nerve in my neck and am trying to make due with online exercise tips and generic Massage Envy.

Currently, we are continually getting emails to let us know that a cut in staffing is coming soon. Ironically enough, I had been getting 3-4 phone calls a week from recruiters offering me interviews; that is, until our local market became saturated with unemployed IT workers laid off from multiple businesses - the latest being our no-longer-really-local brewery.

So ... I'll be spending all my spare time this week updating my web site, resume, and studying for that one last exam that will upgrade my certification.

“This country was the moral leader of the world until George Bush became president.” -- Howard Dean.

Folie à Quatre

So they found out about the divorce. I do not know who ratted me out but I can only assume that it was Sister #1. She would have told Sister #2 so that, of course, anyone in a 100-mile radius would now know.

Apparently they have been calling for some time but my husband had been shielding the calls so that I would not have to stress over it until after the holiday. I am very grateful to him for this.

They continue to send snail mail as well. My guess is that Sister #1 did not relay the address I told her to give them -- the 7th cardboard box by the south entrance to the arch ... the only one with the Cosco shopping cart, etc.

Per the latest phone message, my father stated that he would be driving up soon (perhaps this weekend) to 'take care' of this divorce situation. I do not know what that means and probably do not want to know but I am completely in awe of their delusional thinking.

I haven't seen or spoken to them in so many years. I was informed that they also offered to come up and help my husband with any household chores or repairs. He's a grown man and it's a 3-hour drive. Seriously? There is no making sense of this so do not try.

Years ago, I learned that it is wasteful to make sense of someone that is so illogical. My mother is delusional to a psychotic degree and everyone else seems to fall closely behind. They do meet all the diagnostic criteria for 297.3, or rather, Folie à quatre.

In any event, I am thinking that the time has come to tear out the face of my entire family's reality by speaking out of that which has never been spoken of. It is only a matter of when. I will let you know if I do.

My Top 10 Reasons To Stay Home At Christmas

According to MSNBC, "more and more people seem to be on their own these days. Census figures show that one-fourth of the nation’s households — 27.2 million of them — now consist of one person, compared to just 10 percent in 1950. For that matter, the average American has only two close friends in whom to confide — down from three in 1985, according to an authoritative sociological study released in June. Nearly a quarter have no confidant at all."

To help me get along at during this time alone, I made a list of the top ten reasons why it is better to be home alone at Christmas:

10. Aunt Franny's liver and cranberry stuffing.

9. No fist fights to break up in the yard.

8. No more debates as to who was responsible for the burned Christmas ham back in 1985.

7. Not forced to sit at small card table with five-year-olds who flick corn in your face.

6. No having to be nice to mean people whom you only see once a year.

5. No horrid gossip -- Do not have to hear who is fornicating with who during the lunch hour at work.

4. One less viewing of that damn blonde-kid-movie and his bb-gun.

3. Less presents to re-gift.

2. Avoidance of in-laws! Avoidance of in-laws! Avoidance of in-laws!

1. Can sit in front of XBox in flannel pajamas, eat pie, and gain ranking points by shooting down all the newbs who just now received a copy of Halo 3.

Attempt At Positive Sappiness #1

'Twas the night before Christmas in apartment #1
when lights went out and all were done
with I in my bed, electric blanket on high
the kitties curled up -- we let out a sigh

Though it had been a rough year
- few triumphs but many trials -
it was enough for my defenses
that I hide in my denial


When up from my bed I arose in a shiver
I thought I would cry and my lip began to quiver
Were there to be no presents, no tree, no shine?
Did I forget it all? I began to whine.

My first holiday so alone
no family but no mire
I tried to convince myself
that my state was not so dire


Since I had a job, a car, and a bed
the heat was on and I was fed
I pleaded myself to cheer up and be glad
tho' reason for gloom, no need to be sad

Thanks to amazon.com I ordered my gifts
They were not wrapped but that should not matter
It was good to have them and should give me a lift
Stay together, be strong, and my heart would not shatter

So back into bed, I nestled warm and safe
Telling myself - "I'm no longer a waif!"
Next year would be better - no Bush, more shoes -
It has to get better and I refuse to lose.

Waiting For Leftovers

As is typical, the sum of this update is that I remain in waiting on HIM to do something other than work or sports. It is one piece of paper to sign but he can't manage that. One sheet of paper so that this marriage can be done. I could actually begin to try and pick up my pieces but he will hold it off as long as possible for his own sake while I wait out another winter in this cold and drafty apartment where nothing works right.

I phone but he does not return calls. I email but he ignores those as well. Over Thanksgiving, he phoned late night and asked if I wanted leftovers. Can you believe that? It seems innocent enough ... but leftovers? Seriously? It is like a nasty joke from fate or whatever being controls irony. All I have gotten from him in forever has been leftovers.

Now in this economy when I can actually AFFORD a house, I have to wait on him again. He has three months to re-finance and six months to sell our house so that I can get my name off the mortgage but there is no reason for me to ever expect that I won't hear of this matter again until 5.75 months from whenever he graces me with his signature. He refuses to even take the time to give me my past year's tax forms or the title to the car as was agreed.

Leftovers. We've done a good job at not hating and fighting each other during this divorce but now I think I've just been stupid. I've become one of those women: smart at everything but alleged love. I left him in our comfortable house so that he would not be so "devastated." Those were his exact words - that he would be DEVASTATED. Stupid. He now says he has "made peace" with our divorce and "has moved on" and guess how I am? Devastated. Stuck and devastated and unable to move on with my life. Unable to make peace because I am waiting on him.

Save Our Canyons

Help Stop the Giveaway of America’s Redrock Wilderness to the Oil and Gas Industry!

No one voted on Election Day to hand over Utah's Redrock wilderness to oil companies. But the Bush Administration cynically chose that very day to advance an outrageous plan that will sell off leases for some 160,000 acres of spectacular Utah canyonlands to oil and gas speculators. While America was voting for Barack Obama and his vision of a clean energy future, Bush and Cheney's underlings were conspiring to plunder one of the crown jewels of our natural heritage for their fossil fuel cronies. Please register your own opposition right now. The auction of Redrock country will take place on December 19.

Update From The Trenches

I didn't know if or when I would return. All that I knew were the directions as they were pointed out by my inner and outer guides. No matter what the conclusion - dead or alive - I committed to finish this fight even it meant travelling to the depths of hell. Thus far, hell is indeed where my journey has been destined. I cannot say that I have not been here before -- only that my previous visits were even less of my choosing.

The blackness has left me so desperate that the only thing that seems an option is to continue to fight. As much as I have tried, it seems the preference to crawl into my hole and stay is a choice that is not mine to make. I am driven by a force that is beyond my comprehension and existence. It does not matter if I die. The only thing that matters is that I do not fail.

It is beyond me as to why I have been pushed and prodded so. It is beyond me as to why my sisters did not get pushed away from that hellhole -- or even my own parents for that matter. I wish to God they had or still would (as I believed it was always possible) but we all supposedly have the right to self-determination. This is just a right that most people do not seem to even know they have, much less select it. Many conclude that I am extremely bizarre or not sane but I stopped listening to them some time ago.

I'm still here. My tag is A54 and I choose to finish this fight.

Update From The Front Lines

Hello,

Yes, I am still here fighting in every way possible directly on the front lines but I will answer your questions:

1. First, am I in a locked psychiatric facility fighting four-point restraints? No ... not yet anyway.

2. Secondly, what am I doing? Well, this is what I do: I go to work most days then most evenings I attend a custom-prescribed therapeutic regimen to constructively deal with my specific traumas. I work at this program so that by the time I get home at night I am exhausted. I am committed to seeing this through or dying - whichever comes first.

The only thing else I do is play Halo (which I am lousy at), pay some of my bills, clean litter boxes, buy cat food to fill said litter boxes, and eat cake. Yes, cake. White cake with white icing from the bakery. I've eaten two cakes in as many weeks alone. No, I have not gained a pound. ... I think because I eat little else.

I do not clean house, my grooming and other ADL's are poor, I have not been to the Zendo ... or anywhere really ... many of my bills are unpaid, and I am doing poorly at work. This is OK because none of these things matter to me at this time.

For example, last week I was informed that I have no motorcycle insurance but this is OK because I haven't been riding my motorcycle. I have also learned that I am about to be sued because I have not been paying my medical bills. This is also OK because many of said bills are for services not rendered. I HAVE NOT received any substance abuse treatment and AM NOT receiving B12 injections. I said cake NOT Vodka. I have multiple therapists so I think they would know if such activities have been going on. Blue Heartless Cross & Shield can pay all the f* lawyers and debt collectors all they want for their own stupidity I need not contribute.

3. Third, how is my health? My heart is broken in every manner possible and I do not exercise. The only other activities besides work and the program are Halo and cake ... so my health? ... ehhh, whatever. I know I'm doing what I need -- that much I can say for sure. My therapists tell me that we can use the devastating effects of the required beta-blocker to our advantage by working with the relentless emotional tirade they bring about as opposed to me being numb, in denial, and generally apathetic. It's kind of like "Eat, Pray, Love" without the travel.

4. Lastly, how long is my hiatus? I do not know but as long as it needs to be. I don't feel like blogging and have other writing-type things to do. In fact, I'll probably just go ahead and try to publish all the crap I write so that perhaps I can pay for my non-bills should I decide to do so but I am sure I will blog again regularly at some point.

I do hope you are well and all is peaceful on your front-lines. I do hope the war ends soon so I can stop the obnoxious analogy.