Thursday, March 26, 2009

Checking In

This week my computer bit the dust when I got some kind of virus in it. Luckily, being a computer tech (read: having access to Google) I reformatted the thing and it seems good as new. I'm scared to surf around the evil Internet now, though, because I'm not sure how I got the virus in the first place, and because it took EIGHT hours to reformat this baby. Older model laptop + Dell + out of date everything makes for a non easy job.

Speaking of jobs I still have one through July 1. Work has been just about as fun as you would imagine any crappy situation to be: Those not getting laid off are getting pushed into lower positions or forced to take substantially less pay, those that are getting laid off are heartless zombie drones that can hardly make it through the day. I'm only half joking when I say I hope one of my co-workers doesn't wind up going on a shooting spree. I work with much redneck or ex-military folk, there be a great many guns between the lot of them.

I've managed to go from XX8 to XX4 since last Friday and I'm doing my best. I overdid the workouts a bit and couldn't walk all day today for the pain in my shins and the blisters on my feet, so today is a day off. I'm also doing better with food. I want to be at XX0 by the start of next week, I'm just not sure how that will happen, so let's say I will be at XX0 by April 4th. That is a decent goal, I think. I mean, this is real weight I'm dealing with here but not real, real weight, right? This is weight I packed on the week I found out I was both losing my job and almost kicked out of my apartment (neither of which are my fault, thankfully, but still). Which means this isn't cheesecake from the 90s, which has settled in and created a home in my thighs, this is free floating weight that hasn't had time to put down stakes or start a family. I hope.

I don't know if I ever updated but the bank will let me stay in my apartment until the lease is up in July. Whew! Three months to find a new place is far more manageable than 48 hours. Of course, finding a new place will be awesome when I'm borderline unemployed and penniless. But that bridge? I shall scale when I get there.

Seems like all I can do is update lately, but work really is taking a huge emotional toll and working out saps up what little energy I might have had left. But know this: You guys are still some of the best friends I have in the world. Thank you.

Saturday, March 21, 2009


I have pigeons in love who want to build their home on my balcony.

One is white, one is grey and purpleish. I think the white one is female but that's just a guess based on nothing.

They bring their friends by to check out the place and I have to keep shooeing them off. If they weren't desease infested filthy vermon who were trying to nest in my storage boxes three feet away from where I watch the sunset I doubt I'd be bothered.

Google isn't super helpful. Well, that is to say, google has a few ideas on how to get rid of them but there isn't a whole lot I can do. Pigeons are tenacious buggers and it seems my only recourse is to buy metal spikey things to discourage them from moving in. So I'm off to try to find metal spikey things in hopes that they don't cost much because, you know, I don't have much money what with being laid off and all.

Any other suggestions? On the weekend I can scare them off but come Monday I fear they'll have a housewarming party and move right in.

What is the first step?

Sometimes, when I remember how old I am, I panic and feel miserable. My life has no path. I've not done anything I want to do and yet I have no idea how to do those things. In the last year or so, as things have started to marginally improve, I've still not managed to do anything productive. I can't believe that here I am, 27, with no career path and seemingly no real career skills. I can't believe that in 3 months I'll be laid off and back to where I've been before; unable to get a good paying job with benefits to support myself.

Sure, I have lofty dreams of just liquidating what little I do have, throwing the rest in storage, and moving to Spain or something, but I don't quite have the nerve to do that. And I'm not even sure that that is what I want to do! I know I want to write, and be creative, and be recognized for these things. I know I want to be surrounded by other creative people. I want to go on Conan and be witty and funny damnit. I want to get on stage and deliver a decent enough stand up routine that I'm not pelted with watered down drinks. I want to write for a funny show, I want to collaborate with interesting people, I need to act and collaborate and be a part of something that entertains people. But I don't even have a clue how to get there.

And I'm scared that it is too late.

I know that it is never "too late" in the grand scheme of things and that I'll regret even further not doing anything substantial with my life but I feel like I'm a decade behind the game and I don't even know where to begin. I've got this ticking clock, finally I guess, of three months that must force me into action but after a decade of inaction I don't even have the tiniest shred of a clue where to begin. Failure is made worse by fear of failure, and by inaction. My life is ruled by fear and inaction. I can't even fail because I can't even try.

I'm pissed too that I can have come this far, and done a pretty fair deal as far as work goes, to still have no real marketable skills. My degrees are useless, my extensive job experience apparently doesn't count for much and as for working in the field of technology I don't have any certifications (expensive) so in applying for more "day" jobs to sustain me a bit longer I don't even qualify. I am very good at my job and very good at computer support and repair yet that won't show as anything in a pile of very qualified resumes. I should be in this powerless position in my early 20s, still just trying to get a job to get by while I figure out the rest in my off time but I'm not; I'm damn near 30 with nothing to show for it.

I've got a condo that I'm being evicted from because the owner is a deadbeat, I've got a job that I'm losing in three months and apparently no qualifications to get me another, I've struggled for years to no avail to make good friends, and a relationship with a wonderful guy who...well. That is another series of posts entirely.

I actually do have a bit of motivation, a feeling that finally after a decade of struggling and overcoming every obstacle that I am in a place where I can break free and try to get out there and see what I have to offer. Yet no where to start. No idea what to do. I'm inhibited by my own obstacles. I should just pretend that this is a quarter life crisis and that I'm not a failure at life, that I'm just totally switching gears. People do it all the time. There is no shame or failure in doing what I really want to do.

I don't know what the first step is. I don't know what the second, third, thousandth step is. And I'm scared by time ticking away because there are things I want for my life but I fear that I'm putting them in jeopardy be essentially deciding to live a life of poverty for years in some far fetched hope that I'll ever generate revenue doing and pursuing what I love.

I'm stagnating and dying inside doing what I do now and better yet, I can't even do that anymore! Life is very politely pointing out that I can never hope to have a job that pays enough to keep me indoors with food and medical at the same time (which enrages me, I've been working full time since I was 15 and this is what I have to show for it? The hell?) but it isn't pointing me in any other direction. And I'm back to that fear again; I can't bear to live another 10 years of failure. I fear not doing what I want to do, I fear not knowing how to do it, and I fear that attempting anything else will never work out.

Thursday, March 19, 2009


First off, Happy Birthday Isabel's King:

Sorry I can't post a real pic of me. Keeping it on the down low, ya know.

To catch you up:

I'm still fat. Actually, I'm fatter. Being Jobless and homeless does not wear well with me. If I had, oh, say, any coping skills at all I wouldn't be shovelling goddamn food in my face like a fat kid at candyland but I'm working on it. I've done better this week and will be back on track by next. Unless an anvil falls on my car or something. Then? It is on. On like being unable to button any of my shirts.

My face is actually healing up fairly well. It is no longer oozing and bloody, it is healed over, but the size is still bigger than the original mole. It is a big pink spot right now, and it itches like all out, but I can't really touch it. I just rub Mederma into it a few times a day and cross my fingers.

Meeting the Parents was fairly painless. His mother was cold and non-talkative, as he said she had been his whole life. My mother was hopped up on OTC and prescription meds but luckily recovering from a cold so she couldn't say much: SCORE! Now I just need to figure out what the heck I'm doing. When he's here I adore him, can't live without him, want to see him every minute of every day. When I'm alone I love it, want to curl up with a book or do laundry and take long showers and not worry about taking up all the hot water. My stupid self can't make its mind up: Do we want to marry him and entwine in wedded bliss or do we want to remain independently dating with our own space? I don't know, but it is coming up close on a year and by this point I need to figure out if I'm happy or if I'm wasting my time.

Anything I'm missing?

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Jobless and Homeless? Time to meet the Boyfriend's Parents!

Because nothing ever happens as an isolated incident, ya know?

Tonight at 6PM my time I am wandering into a non-offensive American chain restaurant that likely has license plates and saddles nailed to the walls to sit down and meet the boy's parents. In the last week I've eaten my way out of every pair of pants I own, my skin looks like I wash my face with Crisco and I'm sporting a very sexy double chin. On top of that nothing says catch like "meet my sweet adorable jobless, homeless, prospect-less girlfriend. I swear she doesn't wear clothing fashioned from what appears to be bedsheets, this is just a one time deal, I hope..."


Better yet my massively dysfunctional and totally inept parents may meet the boy tomorrow. I say may because though the dinner time is set, reservations have been made, and everyone says they will be there, there is a 10% chance my parents will show. My mother in particular is not good at things like "leaving the house" or "showing up" or "not staying up all night drinking and pounding xanax with ambien and living in her own damn imaginary world where everyone and everything is out to get her even though she's never done a damn thing in her whole life".

My parents live elsewhere but were planning on coming here to see some other relatives of ours that will be in the area. It will be like a mini family reunion provided that my mother actually shows up. I don't doubt that my dad will make it down here, but even if my mom does the drama surrounding the trip will probably leave her unable to make it to dinner to meet the boy even though every time I talk to her she demands to know if I hate her because I won't "let" her meet the boy. This is twofold: I'd "let" her meet the boy anytime she ACTUALLY LEFT THE GD HOUSE, however, that never happens, and she is a crazy manipulative narcissistic borderline with manic depression, bipolar and and other slew of fun issues so really? Maybe it is good that she never leaves the house because I'm not sure the boy will know what to do with her. I've lived away from her for nearly a decade and have had therapy for half as long and I still don't know what to do with her.

So pretending like my parents will show that means today I'm meeting the boy's family and tomorrow he is meeting mine. And I have to wonder; how did this go for you?

We're not college or even high school kids anymore, we're full fledged adults, so meeting the parents doesn't just happen when you swing by to pick up your date one night. I don't know what this is like for "regular" people with "regular" families (I know you hate the quotes now, sorry) so I don't know if I should consider meeting his family a big deal or not. The boy is entirely not useful in this area; he is a BOY. He has a boy brain. He does not think about the meaning of things, he does not read into things. He does not wonder if by my bringing him to meet my gene pool I am attempting to take the relationship to the next level. Hence I am going to do the same; since the impression I get from him is that this is no big deal, even though normally it is like a big relationship milestone, I am going to treat it as such. That doesn't mean I'm not going to spend the next three hours desperately trying to wedge myself into a girdle and weeping into a pile of clothes that don't fit, it just means I'm going to treat it with the same non-reverence as him.

So, most of you are married, or have been, or are in relationships. What was meeting the parents like for you? I've met the parents of boyfriends before but I was younger so it didn't seem like such a potentially big deal. Plus I wasn't all in love and sprung over those boyfriends.

What do you think? How did it go? And would you be worried if your son's date showed up wearing pajama pants and a parka (as these are the only items that fit right now)?

Friday, March 13, 2009

What makes Jobless even better?


On Monday I found out that my condo is being foreclosed on because the owner didn't pay the lease for over a year. I've lived here for five years and never paid my rent late, keep the place in great condition and don't run a meth lab (clearly that is what the warehouse at work is for).

It has been the week of hell and it took days just to get tentative answers. I still don't know if the bank is going to give me 48 hours to vacate or if they'll let me stay til I find a new place.

What with losing my job I figured one of my options would have to be renewing my apartment lease when it came due in three months. I mean, I've lived here for five years and I was really ready to move on but I don't have the funds for first, last, a security deposit and moving. It was just more economically feasible for me to continue to try to live here than find a new place in light of the job loss I'm facing.

Worse yet it has been the week from hell. No one has answers, no one is helpful. I did find one free advocacy group in town that at least lead me in the right direction but they also scared the wits out of me; apparently (like we all didn't know this) this is happening all over the country. Families that pay their rent and are responsible are being tossed out as owners default. I'm lucky I don't have kids or even a house plant to take care of so I can't imagine what this would be like for a family.

Needless to say the week has been...bad. And I'm sorry to report that I gained six pounds.



I'm not kidding. This isn't water weight either, it's real weight. When I wasn't calling my sketchy property rental place for the twentieth time in one day (I'm not kidding) or tracking down any renter lawyer that would talk to me I was shovelling food in my face by the bucket-full. My caloric intake could have fed a heavily populated island for a month.

When I know what I'm going to do I'll update you.

In the meantime I'm fat, jobless and pretty soon homeless.

And testy. Don't give me motivational crap about pulling through and rainbows and the power of happy thoughts. I'm tired from fighting with clueless and worthless bureaucracy and trying to find another job in a hellacious economy. I'll be Pollyanna later, right now I'm Jabba the Hut.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Layoff Chic

I'm losing my job in 116 days.

It is fabulous to finally be with the "in" crowd, you know?

Today when I rolled out of bed I had a tough time choosing what to wear. It has been a hell of a week and I'm not ashamed to tell you that I haven't handled it well at all. Whereas I probably haven't gained any weight I haven't managed to drag myself out of bed for any workouts, instead using the extra morning hour to lay awake contemplating misery, so I certainly haven't lost any weight. Which means I'm still limited to two pairs of pants. Both of which accumulated stains of some kind this week and hadn't yet been washed (I've been spending my evenings a bit distraught too, if you must know, and have let the laundry slide.). I picked the lesser of two evils, pulled an undershirt out of the laundry pile as well and went with a big, bulky, navy blue cable knit deal I've had for years to complete the ensemble.

The cable knit was left over from a house party in which I lost my favorite grey fleece, as though the universe had taken my wonderful zip up and as a consolation gave me a heap of yarn that was even then, 8 years ago, beyond it's appropriate wearing years. The thing keeps unravelling on me and I just keep stitching the sleeves and hems up with navy blue thread. The yarn itself is disintegrating and bits are sticking out everywhere, which I just trim with scissors when I have time, like today while I listened to the woe and misery of my co-workers I sat and trimmed the sleeves while the item was still on me.

The heavier bits of the cable knit are pulling from the regular knit creating uneven wear and if, like today's omission, I don't put a long sleeve shirt underneath, bits of my shoulder and arm flesh are exposed. I have thought, on more than one occasion over the years, "oh dear, this thing is beyond wearing to work anymore", a thought I've had right before shrugging and throwing it on. I'd sometimes regret the choice at work when I'd notice that the thing was dying on me in a most unflattering way but promptly forget such troubles when I got home. Plus I've been working on a limited wardrobe my entire adult life (we won't even get into the hand me downs and follies of youth) so the thing had to, by necessity, always make its way into the winter rotation.

Today I complimented the beauty with my ugliest scarf, doubled socks with holes in them over to protect my heels, threw my dirty hair up in a bun and was off. I may not be the shining beacon of fashion, never up on the current trends and lacking in any designer pieces what so ever but I do believe I have a flair for accessorizing important life events. Depression coupled with being overweight and losing my job in just over three months? Oh I worked it. I worked it good. I was the queen of the ball. These other bitches don't even know what competition they are entering, they may try to throw a cardigan on or scuff their shoes up a bit but I KNOW this baby, I work it. It is mine. They just can't compete with my layoff chic. They don't have years of wherewithal coupled with decades of poverty experience.

They may whimper about losing their house or going on food stamps but I ask you, how will they look doing it? They won't have the haute couture air of having been beat down by every circumstance in every conceivable way for years, they won't be able to pull off ratty sweaters and two dollar button downs from an estate sale like I will, and I know the jealously will kill them. In the new era of frugal being in, designer being out, reuse being in, new being out, I will reign queen. The holes in my faux leather, eleven year old shoes that I keep alive with brown sharpie and hope will lead the way.

And finally, my time has come. I'll try not to be too distant and aloof and forget about all of you but let's face it; I'm of the elite now. I get what made the rich so special, they didn't just think they were better than us, clearly they were better than us. And now they're just fashion road kill, their relevancy lost in the tidle wave of what is hip and new, life's wonderful irony making that which made them special now make them total outcasts, unable to gain any of their footing back.

I have arrived mah peeps, this is my game now.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Important Weight Loss Note

When working on weight loss do not , I repeat, DO NOT, weigh yourself more than every two weeks. If you can go longer that is much, much better, but in the very least WAIT TWO WEEKS.

Your weight varies so much day to day that you will drive yourself crazy and wind up miserable and even sabotage yourself.

I didn't take my own advice, weighed myself yesterday, saw that I was up FIVE POUNDS and basically ruined my whole day. Today? Those five pounds? Totally gone. Idiot. From henceforth I am only weighing myself on the two week weight in day and at NO OTHER TIME. It would be craziness to do otherwise.