Or "Post-Writing" if you catch my drift. An unusual blog at an usual time, if I may say so. Macy's having a girl's night out and I intended to go play cards, but have done an astounding amount of writing today, so that plan flew out the window in the best possible way.
Not to say I haven't been writing much or often; I've done two short stories on and off since October, in between bouts of 14 Days. But I haven't been dedicated to it, so to speak. Both short stories were about 15-20 pages each, which is longer than normal, but doesn't make up for the lack of short stories done SINCE October, due to stuff with writing club being put on hiatus for a small amount of time (but should be starting back up soon).
I've said it before and I'll say it again, but I think the reason why I can't keep writing 14 Days for very long is because it's so fucking depressing to me, and probably more personal than I'd like it to be. I've spent all day in this character's head, and Jesus does it take me back to about 5 years ago at the absolute peaks of my depression and my own... brush... with the topic of the novel.
It started off decently enough, with the main character essentially making fun of someone else, before it launches into this whole depressing rant about how he destroys everything in life he cherishes; none of that was intentional, but this book has depressing oozing out of every little thing I try to put in it.
Hopefully it isn't another month before I'm able to do another few pages, but we'll see. Maybe I can distract myself by writing some in it, and then when shit gets too real, switch to a short story or something. I dunno.
I did do something kind of big today concerning writing. We'll see how it comes back.
I don't know if I mentioned it in my last post, but if I didn't, here goes: one of our cats, Cammie, started acting sick a few weeks ago (come to think of it, it might have been the night of the last time I posted, honestly). Not really sick, maybe, but started drooling, otherwise acting fine. We were afraid she got into bug poison or something, so we called the vet, and they said if she was still doing it when we woke up the next morning, bring her in. She stopped, thankfully, but it was a scary time and I've never been more irate with the office staff here.
We talked to the office staff again too, by the way. The office manager pretty much looked us in the eye, told us all of this shit was their fault due to lack of or miscommunication amongst the staff, and then in the same sentence pretty much told us we could go fuck ourselves when it came to breaking our lease, because he knew the regional management wouldn't let us out for free. When I asked for contact to regional managment, he declined giving it out, because "they like us to solve this internally." So he said he couldn't help us, then refused to give us the contact info of the person able to help us.
And the best part? It would cost us about 3k JUST to move out, not including damages to the apartment etc (like cats tearing on the rug, etc). So getting back taxes didn't help on that, because it'd be closer to 5k just to get out of here.
We're trapped, barring miracles, I guess you could say. After talking with them though, they did do a more thorough pest control sweep. They said they were going to fumigate (they didn't) and instead sprayed a bunch of shit in our place and the neighbors, but it was enough that I had to pack up the cats and a bunch of stuff like bedding because we couldn't be in there for at least 4 hours. Packed up for an hour drive to my parents because these shitfucks couldn't handle the problem. Though, if I may tempt fate, this was two Tuesdays ago, and I don't think I've seen one since. Maybe it finally worked.
I'm still going to wage fucking war on this place. But it makes things slightly more bearable. If only I could constantly channel that rage into writing, then I'd have my entire literary ideas pounded out in a night.
Fuck this place.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Tired
The smell of coffee late at night typically serves as a poignant reminder of hazy, drunken times spent loitering around Waffle House interiors. This is the closest we'll get as a segue to my next statement, as now that I'm an old man, 11:30 is "late" and I'm brewing coffee to make our iced blend for tomorrow morning.
Today is the strongest I've had an urge to drink in quite some time. Perhaps ever, maybe? It's an odd sensation, because I don't necessarily feel the need to drink so much as the desire for escape. In typical fashion, one of the only ways I knew how to escape was through alcohol.
What a day. My morning began with a group of white trash motherfuckers getting in a fight in my department, one of them throwing coffee at the other before they stormed out of the store, one of them completely flipping over a clothes rack on their way out. Good times.
This was a minor frustration. The past few days I have been, maybe, perhaps, feeling slightly depressed. Maybe depressed isn't the right word. Insignificant is more fitting. We will come back to this.
Anyways, I get home from work and the evening is off to a good enough start. We decide to get pizza to bring home, and here's where the trouble starts. Once we arrive back home, I go to the kitchen to warm something up. There are two small bugs in the microwave. I kill them, moderately disgusted, and heat up what needed heated. While washing my hands, a much larger one crawls out of the sink. It too is disposed of, flushed down the toilet, and I go about my business. I go back to the kitchen not five minutes later to use the microwave again. Three more tiny bugs are now in there.
Now, more disgusted, I slam the microwave door. Having seen this, I don't particularly feel like using the microwave ever again. This presents a slight problem, as how the fuck are we supposed to warm things up when it doesn't need to be a bigger cooked thing on/in the oven?!
I don't know if I've discussed this problem here before, but I don't believe so. I may have discussed it with one reader, told a friend who we played cards with, and maybe one or two people at work. Bugs have been a problem in our apartment since literally the day we moved in. The first time I turned on the sink in the bathroom, it shot out a swarm of dead ants into the sink. This was back in... March of...two years ago? I can't even remember anymore, however long it is we've been trapped in this abomination for what feels like forever.
Ants are one thing. I know ants. They're annoying, but I can deal with them. They were a constant with my parents in Greensburg.
These bugs, this problem I can't remember if I've discussed before, they aren't ants. Springtime of last year was the first sighting. A motherfucking cockroach on our clean counter top. It was killed, the office was contacted: They acted horrified, said something along the lines of "That's odd, we haven't had any other units complain about them," but they sent out pest control. And, at the time, that was that.
Of course it wasn't. Later on another occurrence was brought up. We expressed our concerns and nothing happened. We started to use homemade bug killer, a mix of sugar, water, and borax, and that did the trick for a while too. Then came the middle of fall into winter, and the number of sightings increased. We complained, going so far as to ask about alternative treatments ("if we buy a goddamn fogger, are we allowed to set it off?" "i'm not sure, let me make sure the office manager calls you back on Monday." Come Tuesday, pest control is at our door again. That was in September). Further complaints have all been treated similarly and were greeted with the same "Hmm, that's funny, no one else has complained."
And in the past few months things have really exploded. Hardly a night goes by that Cammie doesn't wake me up, meowing loudly, pawing at the ground where she's found one but can't kill it. In addition, it isn't uncommon to spot them in otherplaces. We went from maybe a couple of spottings a month to, if we're particularly unlucky, five or six a day.
So pest control has been out repeatedly, and they've baited each time, and wouldn't you know it, it isn't solving the issue. This whole ordeal has been terribly aggravating, and, as you may see, moderately depressing, as the office kept giving the impression that we are the trouble causing unit.
Then, a few weeks ago, our downstairs neighbors moved out. Two weeks ago, the normal pest control guy didn't show up, but rather some different guy filling in for him. He was very upfront and open when I opened the door to him, whereas the other guy was typically all business, reserved, and shared few words.
I learned some interesting things.
These neighbors downstairs... they didn't move out.
They were evicted.
For being dirty.
He told me that they had been out to treat other apartments in our area for the same problem as us, but the people below us either refused to let in pest control, or the few times they did, said their apartment was extremely messy.
He told me they've been treating that apartment like clockwork to try and solve the problem.
He said the carpet below was littered with the bodies of dead bugs.
He said, in no uncertain terms, the unit below us was the the problem.
He proceeded to say that this was not an uncommon way for our particular office to behave, and had experienced extremely similar issues with with other properties owned by the same company as ours. He said all the baiting in the world wouldn't help our apartment, because if we were the problem, we'd be seeing dead bugs everywhere from all the bait they'd already placed.
So this entire time, we've been stressing, thinking we just weren't clean enough, we were the problem, and all along these asscock shitheads in the office have been stringing us along.
Each time: "No, I understand."
Do you, though? Do you understand what it's like to have to bag all of your eating utensils in the silverware drawer, so you don't have to worry about what's crawled over them? When was the last time you had to wash all of your dishes immediately after eating off of them, and then before eating off of them next time, because you don't have a good way to protect them? When was the last time your pet woke you up because she knew these things didn't belong, but couldn't crush them with her paws? Tell me, in your personal experience, when you last opened a box of Macaroni and Cheese, only to find the remains of a mostly eaten bug amongst the noodles. You understand, you say, how you're oftentimes afraid to have guests over because you're terrified of a nasty little thing crawling across the wall in their sight, and even though the lame excuse "it isn't our fault" is true, you still become known as "those friends with cockroaches."
When was the last time you laid in bed, having to worry that maybe that itch you felt just a second ago wasn't an itch, but a bug crawling across your leg?
When last did you wake up with a rash or hives on your legs and ankles, and pockmarks on your wrists, because something either bit you multiple times in your sleep, or you're so stressed from these problems outside of your control that your flesh is actually giving physical sign of an emotional malady, even though shitgrinning idiots have the power to solve this problem, but choose not to, because it will cost them a few extra dollars?
When was the last time you lived in misery, mortified of your own home, because someone else decided you weren't worth the effort? That you were too insignificant to deal with? That your problems weren't as great as theirs, and because of that, they weren't deserving of help?
We have devoted much time to finding other apartments. We looked into getting a loan for a small home or condo, but due to everything that happened with my knee, not being able to pay it in a timely manner (and still paying on it [because, you know, the company I worked for refused to pay for something that was their fault, and now I'm left in financial shambles because of it]), and our student loans, we don't qualify for a loan. So it's renting for a while longer yet. Blegh.
We have found another place, much nicer, a one bedroom apartment that is technically larger than our current 2 bedroom apartment, but the rent is 150$ more per month. A significant difference. I'm pretty sure our budget can handle it, but it means we won't be saving more towards building credit up and one day getting a house. Which, again, makes me feel insignificant, because my medical mishap is literally holding Macy back from having a better place to live. Keeping us from oneday having a family anytime soon. From doing a lot of things, because we don't have the money. Because of me and me specifically.
However, this 150$ difference is barely the tip of the iceberg. After first month's rent, application fees, pet fees, deposits, etc., it's going to cost close to 1500$ to move in. To break our lease, assuming we can't convince them to just let us go without paying anything, and to pay for "pet damages" (rug replacement, etc) we're probably looking at 1500$ to move out. So about 3k just to get out of this shit hole. We obliterate our savings to get a slightly better place to live, thereby setting us back years to getting a place we really want to live in and leading the lives we want to lead.
And now it's about 15 til 1, and I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm tired. I've been pissed off these last few weeks. Sleeping is harder when I know the cat is just going to wake me up in a few hours because of bugs. I've been disgruntled and I'm afraid, despite my best efforts, it could be damaging to our relationship, because rather than bite out angry words at someone who doesn't deserve it, I clam up almost entirely, and that leads to unintentional distance.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, these living conditions are fucking horrible and having ill effects on other aspects of my life, and I don't know what I can actually do to change it due to lack of finances.
Hate isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.
Today is the strongest I've had an urge to drink in quite some time. Perhaps ever, maybe? It's an odd sensation, because I don't necessarily feel the need to drink so much as the desire for escape. In typical fashion, one of the only ways I knew how to escape was through alcohol.
What a day. My morning began with a group of white trash motherfuckers getting in a fight in my department, one of them throwing coffee at the other before they stormed out of the store, one of them completely flipping over a clothes rack on their way out. Good times.
This was a minor frustration. The past few days I have been, maybe, perhaps, feeling slightly depressed. Maybe depressed isn't the right word. Insignificant is more fitting. We will come back to this.
Anyways, I get home from work and the evening is off to a good enough start. We decide to get pizza to bring home, and here's where the trouble starts. Once we arrive back home, I go to the kitchen to warm something up. There are two small bugs in the microwave. I kill them, moderately disgusted, and heat up what needed heated. While washing my hands, a much larger one crawls out of the sink. It too is disposed of, flushed down the toilet, and I go about my business. I go back to the kitchen not five minutes later to use the microwave again. Three more tiny bugs are now in there.
Now, more disgusted, I slam the microwave door. Having seen this, I don't particularly feel like using the microwave ever again. This presents a slight problem, as how the fuck are we supposed to warm things up when it doesn't need to be a bigger cooked thing on/in the oven?!
I don't know if I've discussed this problem here before, but I don't believe so. I may have discussed it with one reader, told a friend who we played cards with, and maybe one or two people at work. Bugs have been a problem in our apartment since literally the day we moved in. The first time I turned on the sink in the bathroom, it shot out a swarm of dead ants into the sink. This was back in... March of...two years ago? I can't even remember anymore, however long it is we've been trapped in this abomination for what feels like forever.
Ants are one thing. I know ants. They're annoying, but I can deal with them. They were a constant with my parents in Greensburg.
These bugs, this problem I can't remember if I've discussed before, they aren't ants. Springtime of last year was the first sighting. A motherfucking cockroach on our clean counter top. It was killed, the office was contacted: They acted horrified, said something along the lines of "That's odd, we haven't had any other units complain about them," but they sent out pest control. And, at the time, that was that.
Of course it wasn't. Later on another occurrence was brought up. We expressed our concerns and nothing happened. We started to use homemade bug killer, a mix of sugar, water, and borax, and that did the trick for a while too. Then came the middle of fall into winter, and the number of sightings increased. We complained, going so far as to ask about alternative treatments ("if we buy a goddamn fogger, are we allowed to set it off?" "i'm not sure, let me make sure the office manager calls you back on Monday." Come Tuesday, pest control is at our door again. That was in September). Further complaints have all been treated similarly and were greeted with the same "Hmm, that's funny, no one else has complained."
And in the past few months things have really exploded. Hardly a night goes by that Cammie doesn't wake me up, meowing loudly, pawing at the ground where she's found one but can't kill it. In addition, it isn't uncommon to spot them in otherplaces. We went from maybe a couple of spottings a month to, if we're particularly unlucky, five or six a day.
So pest control has been out repeatedly, and they've baited each time, and wouldn't you know it, it isn't solving the issue. This whole ordeal has been terribly aggravating, and, as you may see, moderately depressing, as the office kept giving the impression that we are the trouble causing unit.
Then, a few weeks ago, our downstairs neighbors moved out. Two weeks ago, the normal pest control guy didn't show up, but rather some different guy filling in for him. He was very upfront and open when I opened the door to him, whereas the other guy was typically all business, reserved, and shared few words.
I learned some interesting things.
These neighbors downstairs... they didn't move out.
They were evicted.
For being dirty.
He told me that they had been out to treat other apartments in our area for the same problem as us, but the people below us either refused to let in pest control, or the few times they did, said their apartment was extremely messy.
He told me they've been treating that apartment like clockwork to try and solve the problem.
He said the carpet below was littered with the bodies of dead bugs.
He said, in no uncertain terms, the unit below us was the the problem.
He proceeded to say that this was not an uncommon way for our particular office to behave, and had experienced extremely similar issues with with other properties owned by the same company as ours. He said all the baiting in the world wouldn't help our apartment, because if we were the problem, we'd be seeing dead bugs everywhere from all the bait they'd already placed.
So this entire time, we've been stressing, thinking we just weren't clean enough, we were the problem, and all along these asscock shitheads in the office have been stringing us along.
Each time: "No, I understand."
Do you, though? Do you understand what it's like to have to bag all of your eating utensils in the silverware drawer, so you don't have to worry about what's crawled over them? When was the last time you had to wash all of your dishes immediately after eating off of them, and then before eating off of them next time, because you don't have a good way to protect them? When was the last time your pet woke you up because she knew these things didn't belong, but couldn't crush them with her paws? Tell me, in your personal experience, when you last opened a box of Macaroni and Cheese, only to find the remains of a mostly eaten bug amongst the noodles. You understand, you say, how you're oftentimes afraid to have guests over because you're terrified of a nasty little thing crawling across the wall in their sight, and even though the lame excuse "it isn't our fault" is true, you still become known as "those friends with cockroaches."
When was the last time you laid in bed, having to worry that maybe that itch you felt just a second ago wasn't an itch, but a bug crawling across your leg?
When last did you wake up with a rash or hives on your legs and ankles, and pockmarks on your wrists, because something either bit you multiple times in your sleep, or you're so stressed from these problems outside of your control that your flesh is actually giving physical sign of an emotional malady, even though shitgrinning idiots have the power to solve this problem, but choose not to, because it will cost them a few extra dollars?
When was the last time you lived in misery, mortified of your own home, because someone else decided you weren't worth the effort? That you were too insignificant to deal with? That your problems weren't as great as theirs, and because of that, they weren't deserving of help?
We have devoted much time to finding other apartments. We looked into getting a loan for a small home or condo, but due to everything that happened with my knee, not being able to pay it in a timely manner (and still paying on it [because, you know, the company I worked for refused to pay for something that was their fault, and now I'm left in financial shambles because of it]), and our student loans, we don't qualify for a loan. So it's renting for a while longer yet. Blegh.
We have found another place, much nicer, a one bedroom apartment that is technically larger than our current 2 bedroom apartment, but the rent is 150$ more per month. A significant difference. I'm pretty sure our budget can handle it, but it means we won't be saving more towards building credit up and one day getting a house. Which, again, makes me feel insignificant, because my medical mishap is literally holding Macy back from having a better place to live. Keeping us from oneday having a family anytime soon. From doing a lot of things, because we don't have the money. Because of me and me specifically.
However, this 150$ difference is barely the tip of the iceberg. After first month's rent, application fees, pet fees, deposits, etc., it's going to cost close to 1500$ to move in. To break our lease, assuming we can't convince them to just let us go without paying anything, and to pay for "pet damages" (rug replacement, etc) we're probably looking at 1500$ to move out. So about 3k just to get out of this shit hole. We obliterate our savings to get a slightly better place to live, thereby setting us back years to getting a place we really want to live in and leading the lives we want to lead.
And now it's about 15 til 1, and I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm tired. I've been pissed off these last few weeks. Sleeping is harder when I know the cat is just going to wake me up in a few hours because of bugs. I've been disgruntled and I'm afraid, despite my best efforts, it could be damaging to our relationship, because rather than bite out angry words at someone who doesn't deserve it, I clam up almost entirely, and that leads to unintentional distance.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, these living conditions are fucking horrible and having ill effects on other aspects of my life, and I don't know what I can actually do to change it due to lack of finances.
Hate isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
The Holidays
Minor note, Safari is essentially unusable on my computer if I actually want to accomplish anything in web browsing, so it can probably go fuck itself. Seriously, "we gotta resize every tab every time you open one, we won't display the full URL name up top, and then when you close a tab everything resizes again, because hey you know how everyone has an iPhone? Let's make your computer more like the phone instead of vice versa. Oh, and when you open a link in a tab, it won't actually load until you go to that tab, so enjoy wasting more of your time." Hnnnggghhhh fuck you, Apple. But you're still not as bad as Windows, so there's that.
Anyways, hello Firefox. ...Probably.
The holidays, eh? Yeah, there were some of those not too long ago. Oh, holidays. Christmas Eve my birthday came and went, what with a short day at work, then a drive to my parents, then my grandparents, and the whole family situations over again. It wasn't bad, but I just play the outsider amongst extended family since I'm not hillbilly and only see them once a year. I guess my uncle got divorced and now has five new step-kids, all over the course of a year. Good for him?
Christmas Day was similar, this time going to Macy's parents and seeing her brother and sister-in-law and their kids for the first time since last year. Well, seeing their first kid, and meeting the second for the first time, since they're "too busy" for us, but see her sister-in-law's family every other week. Inclusion.
It wasn't bad either though. My birthday I got some cards and a very nice cup, as per my wishes (I didn't want ANYTHING for my birthday, but knowing that wouldn't happen, I kept it simple). Christmas passed, netting me more cards and an Avengers shirt (comics, mind you, not the movie). So after 3 boxes of Conspiracy over the summer and an eventual "Fuck it, I'm never getting this card" attitude, Macy got all clever, bought the single card, opened a pack, put it in, resealed said pack, and gifted it to me. "The real Conspiracy? He was never printed in that set!" Hehehe.
Friday was back to work with some sad but not altogether shocking news. One of my coworkers had a stroke/seizure Tuesday night, was declared brain dead on my birthday, and had life support pulled. The funeral was that same Friday night.
It wasn't shocking because he was and older guy and had health issues. A few posts back you may remember me talking about a coworker that had a heart attack and was out on medical leave, then brought back right before Thanksgiving? Same guy. So while it's sad, it isn't too shocking, since he had health issues prior.
I will go on to further say I think his death was due to FUCK*MART. Before he had the heart attack, management was trying to get him to quit by making him work all sorts of awful hours, such as in the evening when the more awful customers come in, or work late then be in early the next day, etc etc. Then he had his heart attack not too much later. Then oh shit, Christmas season was upon them, and management urged him to come back. And he did. And then he wanted to quit when they hired another person, but they asked him to stay on just a little bit longer through the holidays. And then he died.
Sad. Am I being biased towards work because I hate it, or do I have any valid arguments? I don't know anymore, but causation and correlation are there.
I guess here's where I should do a year in review, technically, but no. It was an OK year. I've already covered the details in previous posts, so nyeh.
In other news, Macy and I have been playing Diablo 3 like crazy and she's better at it than I am. Ok, maybe its time to look at writing now instead of rambling.
Hooray, first post of the new year.
Anyways, hello Firefox. ...Probably.
The holidays, eh? Yeah, there were some of those not too long ago. Oh, holidays. Christmas Eve my birthday came and went, what with a short day at work, then a drive to my parents, then my grandparents, and the whole family situations over again. It wasn't bad, but I just play the outsider amongst extended family since I'm not hillbilly and only see them once a year. I guess my uncle got divorced and now has five new step-kids, all over the course of a year. Good for him?
Christmas Day was similar, this time going to Macy's parents and seeing her brother and sister-in-law and their kids for the first time since last year. Well, seeing their first kid, and meeting the second for the first time, since they're "too busy" for us, but see her sister-in-law's family every other week. Inclusion.
It wasn't bad either though. My birthday I got some cards and a very nice cup, as per my wishes (I didn't want ANYTHING for my birthday, but knowing that wouldn't happen, I kept it simple). Christmas passed, netting me more cards and an Avengers shirt (comics, mind you, not the movie). So after 3 boxes of Conspiracy over the summer and an eventual "Fuck it, I'm never getting this card" attitude, Macy got all clever, bought the single card, opened a pack, put it in, resealed said pack, and gifted it to me. "The real Conspiracy? He was never printed in that set!" Hehehe.
Friday was back to work with some sad but not altogether shocking news. One of my coworkers had a stroke/seizure Tuesday night, was declared brain dead on my birthday, and had life support pulled. The funeral was that same Friday night.
It wasn't shocking because he was and older guy and had health issues. A few posts back you may remember me talking about a coworker that had a heart attack and was out on medical leave, then brought back right before Thanksgiving? Same guy. So while it's sad, it isn't too shocking, since he had health issues prior.
I will go on to further say I think his death was due to FUCK*MART. Before he had the heart attack, management was trying to get him to quit by making him work all sorts of awful hours, such as in the evening when the more awful customers come in, or work late then be in early the next day, etc etc. Then he had his heart attack not too much later. Then oh shit, Christmas season was upon them, and management urged him to come back. And he did. And then he wanted to quit when they hired another person, but they asked him to stay on just a little bit longer through the holidays. And then he died.
Sad. Am I being biased towards work because I hate it, or do I have any valid arguments? I don't know anymore, but causation and correlation are there.
I guess here's where I should do a year in review, technically, but no. It was an OK year. I've already covered the details in previous posts, so nyeh.
In other news, Macy and I have been playing Diablo 3 like crazy and she's better at it than I am. Ok, maybe its time to look at writing now instead of rambling.
Hooray, first post of the new year.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Happy Birthday, Jesus
....and me too. so lets get this out of the way, heres your chance to say happy birthday.
fuck yes, i get to spend part of the day at work, part of the day cooped up in a car, and part of the day with extended family who i see only once a year. at least we kinda celebrated tonight with the few friends who werent already out of town.
dont worry baby bird, i ll feed you is probably the best quote of the night. i have awesome friends. dreading the next few days, but will prevail as always.
fuck yes, i get to spend part of the day at work, part of the day cooped up in a car, and part of the day with extended family who i see only once a year. at least we kinda celebrated tonight with the few friends who werent already out of town.
dont worry baby bird, i ll feed you is probably the best quote of the night. i have awesome friends. dreading the next few days, but will prevail as always.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Sick
So I've been sick. Last Wednesday I started feeling under the weather at work, and if it hadn't been a short shift, would have left early. I got home about 2:30, and slept on and off until about 7:30? Had a brief dinner of soup and grilled cheese, then went back to bed until 6a.m. on Thursday... at which point I had to work from 7-4. I wanted to call in, but with it being the holiday season and the realization that no one else was scheduled until 9a.m., knew I'd probably end up fired for some minuscule reason that definitely wasn't for "calling in sick," but was most definitely in the end for that reason.
With that knowledge in mind, I forced myself to go to work, and left early. I wanted to leave at 11, but it was "strongly suggested" I stay until noon. Which I did, begrudgingly. After that, I drove home, slept for a good while, and left bed only to have a quick and small dinner or to use the bathroom.
I wasn't scheduled to work on Friday, which is good, because I wasn't going anywhere. Sore from bedrest, I did manage to wake up at about 8:30a.m. and move myself to the couch. I watched stuff on Netflix/dozed until about 2pm, at which point I fell asleep until Macy came home. We tried to play some on Diablo III but I couldn't handle it and went back to bed.
Saturday I feel a little better. We go to brunch, then Disc Replay and Half Price Books, then start marathoning all the Marvel movies. Able to play some gaming but I'm still not tip top. (I never work Saturday, for those who don't know).
Sunday I'm scheduled to go in, but I'm feeling maybe 70% back to full health? Non-holiday season I may have attempted it. But with all the buttholes and craziness that was sure to go on, I didn't want to deal with it. I called in. That's probably for the best, because I woke up again about 10:30 and started doing dishes. I broke out into a sweat. Now, sure, I'm fat and out of shape, but under no circumstances has that ever happened before. So yeah, still sick. Macy starts showing symptoms of what I had (sore throat, congestion, cough, then eventually fever, migraines, and soreness throughout the body. I was sore in my lower back, knees, and feet to the point that moving to roll over wasn't a good idea).
Monday I'm not scheduled. Thank God. I'd say I'm about 90%, and Macy is going downhill more. I actually accomplish a decent amount of writing.
Tuesday (today) I'm off again. Macy actually calls in, so we spend the day playing games. She's doing better now, but it seems like she didn't get hit by whatever this was nearly as bad as me. She's going back in tomorrow, and I'm scheduled to work, but I may call in because I'm scheduled to work Wed/Thurs/Fri, off Sat, then work Sunday through Wednesday (my birthday, FUUUCCKKKKKK YOUUUUUUUUUU), then back on Friday. I'm not penalized if I call in tomorrow due to how odd their sick days work, so I might just give myself a further respite from work before the true horror of the holiday season hits. Blegggh.
It fascinates me though how primal we become when sick, like right now I'm feeling good and can crack jokes and everything, when last week it was an effort to move my head or even say a single word. Like, just becoming that withdrawn is crazy. My thoughts and rationales were little beyond "mumble word to Macy, sleep, maybe eat [one day's meal consisted of 4 aspirin and a cup of juice], drink fluids, release fluids, repeat.
But I've gotten better, so here we are. It also amazes me how, even when sick but gone from work for a couple of days, I was able to write and write EASILY, despite being months apart from the last time I worked on the project I wrote in. Like FUCK*MART is literally draining me of the will to do anything, and... it's.... very true. Looking back over my blogs, I was extremely productive when I didn't have to work there (either through posts from little vacations, or the extended period of time I was off because of my knee), and I can't help but think "damn, maybe if I wasn't there, I'd finally be able to do more writing." And I kind of think I would.
It's not that I don't want to work and can't handle stress -- I'm OK with either scenario. I just don't think I should be repeatedly handling the responsibilities of someone several positions ahead of me, whether that be our ZMS or our Assistant Manager, not when I get a fraction of the pay AND have to deal with more shitty customers than they do whilst powerless to actually argue with said shitty customers. But I feel like I'm trapped because I've played the "hunt for another job" game, and lose each time. I don't know how to break free besides quitting and hoping to pound out (heh) the rest of a project, get published, and use that to work my way up from. But up and quitting without any guarantee is an issue, especially when we're looking at getting a house or at the very least just getting the hell out of apartment living. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know....
In other news, I've been (almost) coffee free since getting sick. Last Wednesday was the last time I had coffee consistently, and Sunday morning I think I had half a cup. Today I'm having a reduced amount too, and I'm wondering if maybe I should try giving it up. Typically after 24 hours without, I start getting headaches, and from there it becomes worse, grumpiness, and fullblown migraines. I don't know if its worth giving up because I feel like I'm probably free of the caffeine withdrawal, but Goddamn do I love my coffee.
Instead of bitching I'm going to go and TRY doing something productive. I have almost 12 pages down on a project and feel I'm decently close to the end; I may try to finish it up before returning to work either Thursday or Friday (again, no penalization if I call in up to Thursday, so....). If so, I need a couple of proofreaders if anyone would like to help. This is the project that I've been calling "one of the most important things I'll ever write," so there's that.
But I've gotten better, so here we are. It also amazes me how, even when sick but gone from work for a couple of days, I was able to write and write EASILY, despite being months apart from the last time I worked on the project I wrote in. Like FUCK*MART is literally draining me of the will to do anything, and... it's.... very true. Looking back over my blogs, I was extremely productive when I didn't have to work there (either through posts from little vacations, or the extended period of time I was off because of my knee), and I can't help but think "damn, maybe if I wasn't there, I'd finally be able to do more writing." And I kind of think I would.
It's not that I don't want to work and can't handle stress -- I'm OK with either scenario. I just don't think I should be repeatedly handling the responsibilities of someone several positions ahead of me, whether that be our ZMS or our Assistant Manager, not when I get a fraction of the pay AND have to deal with more shitty customers than they do whilst powerless to actually argue with said shitty customers. But I feel like I'm trapped because I've played the "hunt for another job" game, and lose each time. I don't know how to break free besides quitting and hoping to pound out (heh) the rest of a project, get published, and use that to work my way up from. But up and quitting without any guarantee is an issue, especially when we're looking at getting a house or at the very least just getting the hell out of apartment living. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know....
In other news, I've been (almost) coffee free since getting sick. Last Wednesday was the last time I had coffee consistently, and Sunday morning I think I had half a cup. Today I'm having a reduced amount too, and I'm wondering if maybe I should try giving it up. Typically after 24 hours without, I start getting headaches, and from there it becomes worse, grumpiness, and fullblown migraines. I don't know if its worth giving up because I feel like I'm probably free of the caffeine withdrawal, but Goddamn do I love my coffee.
Instead of bitching I'm going to go and TRY doing something productive. I have almost 12 pages down on a project and feel I'm decently close to the end; I may try to finish it up before returning to work either Thursday or Friday (again, no penalization if I call in up to Thursday, so....). If so, I need a couple of proofreaders if anyone would like to help. This is the project that I've been calling "one of the most important things I'll ever write," so there's that.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Dream
I usually have some off the wall dreams and I don't typically write them down or discuss them, because I don't subscribe to the notion that they hold any significant meaning beyond what we attempt to transcribe to them. What I'm about to write has no particular meaning either, I just am still so astounded by the emotion it evoked and all of the sensory provocations it stirred.
I had a dream last night (two nights ago? I don't know, time is a blur, something else entirely scary to write about at another time perhaps) where I was at some sort of restaurant with Macy. A real classy joint, cutting edge modern architecture, purposefully dimly lit, etc. There were two levels to the building, and the ceiling was completely transparent glass revealing a night sky full of stars. I think there were trees inside? It kinda reminds me of the student center at FC now that I think about it, but, you know, not shitty.
Anyways, a gentleman brings us soda to drink, only they're in these really tiny glasses, maybe like a triple-shot glass. And before I drink the first one, I stress repeatedly that there better not be any alcohol in them, and he's like "no, no, just Coke." So I have one, but they're really tiny, so I drink it down quick. I toss back a second one, same deal.
A third, maybe? I can't remember. I remember the next one tasted like it had alcohol in it. And I don't just mean in my head I thought, "hmm, booze," I mean a full on sensory overload that was processed only after having drank the drink. I smelled the alcohol, then the aftertaste in my mouth. I don't know how to get the point across that it wasn't like "smell" and taste" but like SMELL and TASTE. Overwhelming. Repugnant. That full fledged bitter concoction of cheap vodka and coke. A moment of terror and panic as I look over at Macy and deliberate on whether or not to tell her before deciding holy shit why wouldn't I because it'd only get worse after that point, and then her immediate concern and anger at the waiter.
I remember verbally tearing him up, his argument, "hey hey it's ok, just think of it like a free drink," and having to tersely explain that I'm an alcoholic and had been sober nearly five years before he came along and his accident completely fucked things up. And then I remembered the feeling of the alcohol itself taking hold, and that deep starving want stirring inside me, primal, consuming, demanding more of what it had been denied for nearly half a decade. I remembered feeling drunk, simultaneously joyful and guilty.
It's an esoteric terror.
It just amazes me how after nearly five years now, on a whim, my subconscious can fully recall the exactness of taste, smell, feel, emotion, that entire mixed bag, of being under the influence. Even writing about it now brings up no small amount of apprehensions. I do not know how to combat it at this hour.
I haven't been sleeping as well lately, whether from shit fuck neighbors, unwarranted holiday stress from work (doing a lot of management duties with none of the pay or benefits is awesome in retail at Christmas time let me tell you), or just a general return to insomnia. I'm off tomorrow at least. Hopefully I'll get some writing done. I need to get back on track. Time feels like it's passing in the blink of an eye, I can barely register anymore where this year has gone. Maybe that's why I don't do anything, because it makes time stretch just a little slower. Hnngh. I need to kick this.
I had a dream last night (two nights ago? I don't know, time is a blur, something else entirely scary to write about at another time perhaps) where I was at some sort of restaurant with Macy. A real classy joint, cutting edge modern architecture, purposefully dimly lit, etc. There were two levels to the building, and the ceiling was completely transparent glass revealing a night sky full of stars. I think there were trees inside? It kinda reminds me of the student center at FC now that I think about it, but, you know, not shitty.
Anyways, a gentleman brings us soda to drink, only they're in these really tiny glasses, maybe like a triple-shot glass. And before I drink the first one, I stress repeatedly that there better not be any alcohol in them, and he's like "no, no, just Coke." So I have one, but they're really tiny, so I drink it down quick. I toss back a second one, same deal.
A third, maybe? I can't remember. I remember the next one tasted like it had alcohol in it. And I don't just mean in my head I thought, "hmm, booze," I mean a full on sensory overload that was processed only after having drank the drink. I smelled the alcohol, then the aftertaste in my mouth. I don't know how to get the point across that it wasn't like "smell" and taste" but like SMELL and TASTE. Overwhelming. Repugnant. That full fledged bitter concoction of cheap vodka and coke. A moment of terror and panic as I look over at Macy and deliberate on whether or not to tell her before deciding holy shit why wouldn't I because it'd only get worse after that point, and then her immediate concern and anger at the waiter.
I remember verbally tearing him up, his argument, "hey hey it's ok, just think of it like a free drink," and having to tersely explain that I'm an alcoholic and had been sober nearly five years before he came along and his accident completely fucked things up. And then I remembered the feeling of the alcohol itself taking hold, and that deep starving want stirring inside me, primal, consuming, demanding more of what it had been denied for nearly half a decade. I remembered feeling drunk, simultaneously joyful and guilty.
It's an esoteric terror.
It just amazes me how after nearly five years now, on a whim, my subconscious can fully recall the exactness of taste, smell, feel, emotion, that entire mixed bag, of being under the influence. Even writing about it now brings up no small amount of apprehensions. I do not know how to combat it at this hour.
I haven't been sleeping as well lately, whether from shit fuck neighbors, unwarranted holiday stress from work (doing a lot of management duties with none of the pay or benefits is awesome in retail at Christmas time let me tell you), or just a general return to insomnia. I'm off tomorrow at least. Hopefully I'll get some writing done. I need to get back on track. Time feels like it's passing in the blink of an eye, I can barely register anymore where this year has gone. Maybe that's why I don't do anything, because it makes time stretch just a little slower. Hnngh. I need to kick this.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
I'm a Fucking Adult and If I want Oreo Mini Reese's For Breakfast. . .
. . . That's what I'm gonna eat with my coffee. Hi, 'beetus. Time to start writing again? I guess? I can't stay in the 14Days universe for very long without letting it get the better of me. I've tried switching it up and I did 7 pages on a new short story (feel like I'm maybe a third of the way done? I don't know for sure) and then became disinterested with that project.
I've since updated my Mac (finally!) from 10.6 to 10.10 and now have to relearn a lot of the little nuances that have gradually been added over the years. Minor things in Safari tick me off, like images not being left aligned when viewed by themselves. Autocorrect was a pain in the ass to find and disable.
Pages is a lot different and I am litterally just coming to terms with it now. I am having to google every 3 seconds to figure out how to do something that was second nature from iWork '09 (....Jesus Christ I was out of date.) Come to think of it, fuck it, I went back to '09 because some of these little things piss me the fuck off. Same with "Mission Control." I oftentimes work with several pages documents at a time open, and before under each thing it would give the title of the thing; now it just shows a bunch of documents lined up with barely no way to distinguish between them. Wanna flip to a different document when you have 5 open? Good luck stumbling through by trial and error. Besides that, you can barely tell which one is highlighted. Fuck. I'm not opposed to change, but Jesus Christ how fucking boneheaded is this? And on pages, you don't get the option to see your word count and page number except for if you have "page view" open on the left hand side, with a floating "2,076 words" (or whatever your word count is) that covers part of the document you're actively trying to read? Wanna know total pages of the document? Better scroll to the end. Wanna know your paragraphs number? Fuck no you don't need to know that. A novel where I have multi-level narration distinguished for the most part by different fonts? HAHAHA FUCK YOU WE DON'T EVEN HAVE FONT SELECTION IN THE DEFAULT TOOLBAR.
....I guess what I'm trying to say is, holy fuck this shit is annoying. And iTunes popping up to tell me what song is playing when it changes over, so I browsed iTunes options, couldn't find anything about it, googled the problem, found out it was on a program called "quicksilver," so without thinking I click "spotlight" to search through my computer's programs to pull this up, but instead Spotlight is now linked up to the internet, so it pulled up a wikipedia article on the X-Men. SERIOUSLY ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. So I don't have any program called "quicksilver," so I did more googling and someone said maybe it was GROWL (kinda like raar but not so threatening [....]), but nope, not that either, until I eventually track it down to "notifications..." So an iTunes feature... is in a different program completely unrelated to iTunes. It's a different, scary world in here, folks. For now, I'm going back to iWork '09 until I can sort out more things on the newer edition. Visually I like the newer much more, but the lack of the older things I need is just mindboggingly stupid and I can't do it.
Well, OK now, I think I'm up to date on everything and changed all the settings to my liking, and it only took a few hours. Woo-hoo? Except for all that iWork changes stuff. Fuck that noise. I'm off to...who knows. Maybe write? We'll see.
I've since updated my Mac (finally!) from 10.6 to 10.10 and now have to relearn a lot of the little nuances that have gradually been added over the years. Minor things in Safari tick me off, like images not being left aligned when viewed by themselves. Autocorrect was a pain in the ass to find and disable.
Pages is a lot different and I am litterally just coming to terms with it now. I am having to google every 3 seconds to figure out how to do something that was second nature from iWork '09 (....Jesus Christ I was out of date.) Come to think of it, fuck it, I went back to '09 because some of these little things piss me the fuck off. Same with "Mission Control." I oftentimes work with several pages documents at a time open, and before under each thing it would give the title of the thing; now it just shows a bunch of documents lined up with barely no way to distinguish between them. Wanna flip to a different document when you have 5 open? Good luck stumbling through by trial and error. Besides that, you can barely tell which one is highlighted. Fuck. I'm not opposed to change, but Jesus Christ how fucking boneheaded is this? And on pages, you don't get the option to see your word count and page number except for if you have "page view" open on the left hand side, with a floating "2,076 words" (or whatever your word count is) that covers part of the document you're actively trying to read? Wanna know total pages of the document? Better scroll to the end. Wanna know your paragraphs number? Fuck no you don't need to know that. A novel where I have multi-level narration distinguished for the most part by different fonts? HAHAHA FUCK YOU WE DON'T EVEN HAVE FONT SELECTION IN THE DEFAULT TOOLBAR.
....I guess what I'm trying to say is, holy fuck this shit is annoying. And iTunes popping up to tell me what song is playing when it changes over, so I browsed iTunes options, couldn't find anything about it, googled the problem, found out it was on a program called "quicksilver," so without thinking I click "spotlight" to search through my computer's programs to pull this up, but instead Spotlight is now linked up to the internet, so it pulled up a wikipedia article on the X-Men. SERIOUSLY ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. So I don't have any program called "quicksilver," so I did more googling and someone said maybe it was GROWL (kinda like raar but not so threatening [....]), but nope, not that either, until I eventually track it down to "notifications..." So an iTunes feature... is in a different program completely unrelated to iTunes. It's a different, scary world in here, folks. For now, I'm going back to iWork '09 until I can sort out more things on the newer edition. Visually I like the newer much more, but the lack of the older things I need is just mindboggingly stupid and I can't do it.
Well, OK now, I think I'm up to date on everything and changed all the settings to my liking, and it only took a few hours. Woo-hoo? Except for all that iWork changes stuff. Fuck that noise. I'm off to...who knows. Maybe write? We'll see.
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