Git 'Er Done

Yep.  I woke up this morning and thought, "Well, today's the day.  Today is the day I find a job.  Gonna get up early, have a good breakfast, a little coffee, take a shower, get to the gym, and come back to the house to spend the rest of the afternoon finding my fortune."

Here is what really happened:

  

8:00-9:00 - I woke up, and made some breakfast.  I was experimenting with using a box-recipe potatoes au gratin and add some lowfat sausage to it.  I made it up and it looked awful.  It didn't taste much better, either.  It gave me a terrible case of indigestion. 

  

9:00 - 11:00 - I checked in on Facebook and played a little Mob Wars.  Spent some time talking with my lovely wife.  

11:00 - 12:00 - Finished watching some show that I don't remember anymore, and took a shower.  Lovely Wife left for the studio.

12:00 - 2:30 - Walked to the gym, had a workout, had a sauna, took a shower.

2:30 - 3:30 - Had Chineese food for lunch with Lovely Wife.  (Today was her day off.)

3:30 - 4:30 - Came home, checked in again on Facebook.  Played Mob Wars again.

4:30 - 6:30 - Felt sick from combination of shitty breakfast and Chineese food, so I decided to take a nap.  Couldn't sleep, so I played a video game (Lego Star Wars).

7:30 - 9:00 - Fooled around on Facebook and played Mob Wars again.

9:00 - 9:30 - Wrote on this blug.

So, my point is, that I've wasted a perfectly good day goofing off.  The only thing I've done to find work is...  well, not a damn thing.  Now, my lovely wife is coming home, and I will want to watch TV with her, or something for the rest of the evening.

And here's the result:

I feel like a damn fool.  I feel like I've let myself down today, and I hate myself for it.  I feel like I deserve whatever happens to me when I'm destitute and my lovely wife kicks me out for being a bum.  I feel like I should just....  I don't know.  I'm not even motivated enough to come up with shitty things to say about myself.  Maybe that's the worst.  Feeling like I've quit myself.  Feeling like I'm not even worth feeling bad over.  Self-indifference.  That's some fucked-up shit.  That's the kind of shit that is a little dangerous.

BUT!

Tomorrow will be different.  Tomorrow I will get up early, have a healthy breakfast, go online early and NOT play Mob Wars.  I will NOT go on Facebook tomorrow, and I will complete my jobsearch by.... Noon.  After that, I will concentrate on buying food for Thanksgiving.  I will find my fortune tomorrow, for sure!

Yeah, I'll do that.  Really.  Really-really.

But now, I'm gonna watch the rest of the 1970's Incredible Hulk TV show....

Storm

When I was a kid, I used to watch a coming storm for hours.  The area of the midwest I'm from is so flat, that you could literally watch a storm arrive for 8 hours.  The sky would slowly get darker, as a storm like a battleship sailed slowly toward me, moving like a minute hand, slow, but fast enough to see if you're really looking.  Eventually, the temperature would drop, and the first sprinkles of rain would begin to fall.  The odor of the air would change and get the wood and steel smell that could mean hail.  If the sky got green, it was time to head for the basement.

During the worst storms, I would hide under a couch in our basement, and cross my fingers and toes in an effort to have luck ward off the tornado that my Dad was watching out the windows for, upstairs.  The AM radio in the kitchen would crackle with every lightning strike.  As nervous as I was under the couch, I was never really scared.  After all, my Dad was looking out for me upstairs, and drinking coffee.  He was wandering room to room looking out for the telltale swirl of a funnel cloud.  I didn't have anything to worry about, really.  But, that didn't mean I came out of my hiding place until Dad gave the "all clear".

We never got hit by a tornado.  In fact, I was fifteen before I ever actually SAW one.  It was miles away.  Maybe six or seven.  it was jumping from the clouds to the ground and up again.  After a few minutes, it split into two smaller funnels and quickly dissolved.   I remember being sad about that.  This horrible, furious tornado reduced to insignificance without doing it's god-given duty to level a trailer park.

All that said, I'm starting to feel like that ill-fated tornado.  Like I'm losing strength.  Like my fury and purpose is shrinking.  Like my spin is giving out.  I also feel like that little version of me, under that couch, crossing my fingers.  But this time, nobody is looking out for the storm.  There's no such thing as luck, and nobody is drinking coffee and listening to the news upstairs.  I'm alone and failing.

Fortunately, I'm starting to realize that I'm not alone under that furniture.  My wife is there with me too.  Just as scared as I am, but holding me tightly.   And, as long as she's with me, I'm not as scared anymore.  If we get swept up in the storm, sucked into the sky with all our stuff, at least I'll have someone to hold my hand when the twister spits us out into the night, wet and cold.

I hope she holds on tight.

Wheels...

This is one of my favorite songs...

Sorry, no post today.

Twiddling My Thumbs

What the hell am I going to do all day?   Well, apparently, I have so much free time these days that I should be able to do anything.  Today is the day I am finally bored.  I will find something to do with myself, cleaning, going to the library, maybe do a little grocery shopping, whatever.  I completed my REQUIRED job search already for the week, and am still running down a couple of leads for work, but I will be done with that by noon, certainly.  

Without an art studio for the first time in 15 years, I am going out of my fucking gourd!  I NEVER had to worry about being bored before.  I could ALWAYS go and get some painting done.  Now, I'm surrogating it with doing some writing, and so forth, but sitting in one place for so long makes me nervous, and start to hate myself.  What the hell is wrong with me?  I guess I've become one of those freaky people that when they aren't working on some kind of project, they crawl out of their skin.  When did I turn into that guy?  Goofing off used to be an art form for me...

In reality, I just want the sick feeling in my innards go away.  That sick feeling comes from watching my bank account shrink and new bills come in the mail everyday.  That sick feeling comes from realizing that "if I don't get some work soon, I'm gonna have to knock over a liquor store..."  Then, of course, I'll end up going to jail and getting ass-raped by somebody I'm not even attracted to.

Good God, I'm even considering making a list, just so I don't end up on Facebook for hours today.  The FB is VERY dangerous.  I'm having to really schedule it now in ten minute blocks three times a day because I really will spend all day on it.  It's terrible.

Okay, here I go...   Ready?  MOTIVATE!!!!!

Not Your Problem

I got this mean fucking letter from a friend today.  Let's call him "Mark".  I asked Mark for a favor yesterday regarding helping me out with my unemployment.  Without going into detail, let's just say I needed some information.  He really didn't have to do a damn thing.  Well, he decided to take it upon himself to "give me a kick in the ass" - as he called it.  Mostly, he wrote me a letter telling me what a lazy worthless mooch I was.  Now, keep in mind, my unemployment and ongoing job search is really none of his fucking business.  I mean, I'm certainly not on unemployment for my health.  With all the horseshit I've gone through screwing around with it over the past few months, I'd like to not be on it, too.  I just don't really have a choice right now.

Maybe he felt like because I asked him for a favor it was somehow "involving" him in my unemployment.  In reality, I just needed some info.  That was it.  Took NONE of his time, really.  And, in return, he totally came down on me.  Told me I was "mooching off the system" and I needed to "get off my ass".  What the fuck...   

I wrote him back and told him where he was wrong about his assumptions, and why.  I also told him I wasn't mad at him.  I'm still not sure if I am.  I might be.  After all, it is NONE OF HIS FUCKING BUSINESS, RIGHT?  I mean, I am pretty sure I've never given him any shit about any of the crap he's doing wrong in his life.  I certainly could, if I wanted.  He's just as much of a fuck-up as I am, if not more.  The guy seems to have a good work ethic.  But he's got some serious "social" problems that will eventually destroy his relationship with his fiancee if he's not careful.  BUT, I don't talk to him about it because it's NONE OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS!  He is who he is, and he's not going to change himself for me, so why bother?  Why should he?

Mostly, I think I might be mad about this because of his timing.  That letter really caught me off guard.  I initially sent off a kind of "it's funny 'cause it's true" parody of my job resume, and he answers it with a letter telling me I'm a loser.  I really didn't need that this week.  I'm having a really rough week, I've argued a couple of times with my wife, and I'm feeling super-vulnerable right now.  My bank account is dwindling, and I'm starting to get a little nervous.

I REALLY want to go back to work, but I want to find a job that will allow me to get ahead somehow.  I'm looking for more than a paycheck.  And, if all I can get is a paycheck, it better be large enough to put some away in savings.  The other reason I'm kind of "taking it slow" finding a job is that my wife and I are considering moving to another part of the country, and I'm kinda waiting to see what kind of decision we make about that before I get too far ahead of myself.  GODDAMNIT, why the fuck did he have to write me that damn letter?!  It hit me way too hard, way too far below the belt!  

Do friends do that kind of stuff?  I mean, I can see that he MAY be trying to give me a little "tough love" with the whole thing, but it sure didn't feel like it.  In my letter back to him I told him that his letter was mean.  In fact, I sounded like a complete pussy in my response, but, FUUUUCK, it hurt!   So, I've been spending the rest of the day trying to talk myself out of dropping a couple Xanax and spending the rest of the day  in bed with the covers over my head. Maybe that makes me a loser too.  It probably does.  Maybe I'm just not fucking tough enough.  Maybe I DO need to get off my ass and take any fucking job that I can get, regardless of what kind of future it holds.   I don't know.  I don't know.  I don't know.

FUUUUCKKKK!!!!

See, this is the kind of shit that makes me want to gather my dog, my wife, and move to fucking-nowhere Montana and raise goats and collect automatic weapons.   That sounds funny, but it really is what I think about sometimes.  I want to build a fucking complex on the side of a mountain someplace, Put razor wire and chain link around the whole place,  store up about 3 years worth of supplies, and blow up the access road.  Tell the whole fucking world to go to hell.  I don't care!

Great, now I'm angry at myself again....

Something From Nothing

So, I am spending my day becoming acquainted (yet again) with my Big Empty.

What this is, for those of you who have never suffered from depression, is a feeling like you are just floating through life.  Suddenly, out of the blue, you just don't give a shit about anything anymore.  Like nothing you do matters.  Like you don't matter.  Like nothing at all matters.  

The Big Empty is as terrifying as it is dangerous.  This is the time when you might get sucked into taking a few too many pills or drive on the wrong side of the road or take a walk over a bridge and imagine what it would be like to step over the edge.  Today, I'm lucky.  I'm just stuck at home with a bad cold and coughing up my lungs.  It keeps me indoors, and away from anything that would otherwise endanger me.  A little viral therapy.

Not to worry though, I'm sure I will snap back to myself again tomorrow.  I've got a lot of crap to do.  Places to be and so forth.  But, it doesn't keep me from looking into the stillness, the soul-void that I'm in today.  These are the kinds of days when I might speak the undiluted truth about stuff and not care about the repercussions.  At least the ugly truth.  See, things like love and friendship and wonder and creativity and magic don't exist in the Big Empty.  Here, pain seems to dilute everything, and giving up is a viable option.  

The absence of want bothers me.  If you've never felt this way, it's an odd feeling.  I mean, I always WANT something.  Maybe a cup of tea, maybe a snack, to watch a movie, a shoebox full of twenties, to get laid, whatever.  I'm always ready for SOMETHING.  But, today, the only thing I want to do is sleep.  To be disconnected.  I used to just drink myself to oblivion when I felt like this.  Nowdays, I just stare at the TV, and zone out.  I'm too bitter and blank to read.  I get annoyed I have to leave my bed to piss.  I secretly wonder if I could get away with going in my pants.  Even writing this blug is the most dramatic thing I've done all day, or will probably do tomorrow.

It's days like this when I wonder why I even try.  Why I care.  Who gives a shit, anyway?  This kind of self-destructive thinking is silly, I know, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with when the Big Empty is staring you in the face with it's non-face.

Everything just seems so goddamn....unnecessary. 

Don't worry though, I'm not off my rocker.  I'm not going to "do anything".  I just wanted to well...   I don't know, really.  I just wanted to have SOMETHING to think about.  It helps. Really.

Whew!

A rush of relief swept over me last night around the time Ohio was given to Obama.   It was then I suddenly felt I didn't need to worry as much about, well, everything, as I have been.  I'm sure I'm not the only one who has had this feeling, though it is silly upon examination.  There are still things to worry about, big things.  But, for a day or two, it's nice to know that there may be light at the end of this very long tunnel that has been the Republican rule.  

Shit, Obama's like Superman right now.  And, there's no Kryptonite to be found anywhere.  Could it be that an honest man has been found in the US Senate?  Sounds too much to wish for, I know, but still.....

Am I wrong for being just plain giddy?  (I just realized that if you re-arrange the letters "plain" becomes "Palin".  Hmm...)  Am I wrong because I think it's about time that America pulled it's ginormous white head out of it's ass and did the right thing?

Unfortunately, I think we got lucky.  America's just as much of a beer-swilling, nigger-hatin', oil lovin', burger-gobblin' place as it's always been, we just managed to get the vote out.  I mean, if you didn't vote in this election, you are a fucking moron.  AND, even though the numbers of voters were higher than ever, the percentage of REGISTERED voters who actually dragged their ass down to the polls was dismal.  (I heard something like only 21% of registered voters in my state actually voted, and that was high!)  If 80% of the registered voters STILL didn't vote, what the hell does that mean???

I gotta say, though I am wanting to be lulled to sleep by Obama reading the phonebook right now, I am still frustrated with this country.  The sour grapes coming from the right have been just ugly.  While McCain was giving his "sorry I lost it for you, it's all my fault" sad-grandpa speech last night, when he mentioned Obama, people started booing!  I couldn't believe it.  Hell, if McCain had won, I would have left the country, but I'm not sure if I would have stood around at a speech and booed the poor guy.  I mean, he lost for God's sake!

Have you ever heard of the "Santa Claus Strategy"?  Well, it goes like this:  when the country has been completely screwed up by a Republican, they put up a patsy in the election (McCain) who will almost certainly lose by a slim margin.  Then, when the Democrats take the crumbling country and work their asses off on fixing it for four years (Carter), the Republicans enter the next election by saying "Are you better off now than you were four years ago?" (Regan).  Then folks say, "Well, I'm not better off now than I was, I guess I should vote for them there other guys this time".  And, then the newly (mostly) fixed government gets handed off to a new, stronger Republican who enjoys the prosperity provided for him during the previous four years while handing out LOADS of money to his buddies and business friends (Santa) until everything goes to hell eight years later (BUSH2) and then becomes a "lame duck" (Bush1 and Bush2).  So, let's hope Obama gets it right FAST, otherwise, he won't be around after the next election, and we will be looking at a "President Palin". 

 You betcha!

Losing It

The most recent thing to really freak my shit out happened yesterday around noon.

I was on Facebook (my new addiction that has kept me from blogging as much, which I need to correct...), and the computer was working fine.  Then, without warning, it just stopped functioning.  Everything froze.   So, I turned off the system, waited a minute or two, and then tried to re-start it.  It didn't come back on.  After 30 seconds or so, a blinking picture of a file with a question mark on it was flashing on the screen.

I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I instantly got a feeling of dread.  My stomach sunk, and my chest started to hurt.  

After contacting Apple, and then taking the computer to the Apple doctor, I found that my hard-drive was toast.  That's it, no warning, no fudging, no weird noises, nothing.  Just stopped working.

Soooo, the laptop was covered, so I got a new hard-drive installed, but I have successfully lost EVERY FUCKING THING ON THE COMPUTER.  I don't back shit up.  I never have.  But, I will now.  According to the tech who took a look at it, the most common problem with the Mac hard drives is that there are these freaking tiny little springs inside the hard drive that wear out.

REALLY?  FUCKING SPRINGS?  REALLY?

So, technology from the fucking dark ages has somehow lost all my pictures, business stuff, art, addresses, worksearch stuff, and everything else is FUCKING GONE because of some little springs smaller than a peppercorn.  Really?

AND, it lost all my lovely wife's stuff, too.   Which hurts me more than I can say.  I'm just SICK SICK SICK about it.  I can't even sleep over it.  I feel like I did something wrong because I was using the computer when it went kaput.  I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!!!  But, for some reason, I still feel like kicking my own ass over this.  I don't understand.

I mean, the tech guy said that there is NO reason for why this stuff happens.  It just does.  Those little parts are only made to last a couple of years, and they expect that you will back up your hard-drive once in awhile.  Has the technology not caught up with those of us who are too lazy to live our lives NOT in love with our computer-box?

The worst part is, to get all the "lost" info off the old hard drive will cost $300-2500 to get.  I'm not even sure what they do to the damn thing to "get" the information.   My moronic understanding is that someone will have to dismantle the hard drive and get the info off the disks inside it individually.  So, there ya go.   Some BASTARD is gonna charge me an arm and a leg to "fetch" the information and laugh later to his buddies about how people pay him a STUPID amount of money for doing so little.

I'm definitely in the wrong business.

Breathe in, breath out.