Stress Stress Stress!

We are moving today, to a place I found on Craigslist.  We’ll be living with a roommate who is compatible in a great many ways, and who is letting us bring our cats, and who has an extra “den” area upstairs so we aren’t confined to one private living space.  Oh, and also, letting us move in with no money upfront… because we are some broke-ass motherfuckers right now.

Living with a roommate will be interesting as, aside from my brother and Hitler (which went spectacularly badly), we haven’t gone that route since we’ve been together.  We will have to, like, pretend to be a normal couple that likes each other most of the time.  It will either be good… or bad.  Heh.

So my day consists of moving all of our stuff to the new place with the help of a friend and the new roommate, who has graciously arranged to go in to work late today in order to be of assistance to me.

This feels good and right.  But, as a very smart person recently said to me, “even good stress is still stress.”

Lack Of Accomplishment

I just had a stupid little crying jag/mental breakdown. I suppose it was period-related.

I don’t feel like I am getting anything DONE. Everything takes 98723497 times longer than it should, and suddenly it happens that it’s after noon and I haven’t even gotten through one load of laundry. This is relevant because I am out of clean clothes. I can’t shower or tackle my to-do list until the clothes finish drying. I feel like the world is spinning without me, and I am sitting still in space.

I could have at least gone down to the pool for some sun/exercise while my laundry does its thing, except my swimsuit ended up in the effing washer. Accidentally.

I am agitated. I want to feel like I have accomplished something, and that feeling never comes. I also want to take a nap. But there is no time for napping

The Faux Housewives of Addison, Texas

The man is now working, which leaves me with a shit-ton of responsibilities to do with finding a place to live (done!), completing the move, figuring out what our next meal will be, etc. This is okay with me because I would have ended up doing all of these things anyway. At least one of us is working. Hopefully I will be soon.

I was aggravated when he wasn’t working, and now I am aggravated because when I hear him talk about his new job, my own wasted potential overwhelms me. I should be doing real work. I should be putting on slacks and going to a place where I do productive things and earn money. Instead, this is my to-do list for the day:

-Work out (ugh)
-Attempt to get an extension on a traffic ticket
-Pawn more of our stuff
-Move a load of stuff from the house to the motel where we are staying (which is an exercise in futility because we’ll be moving it again in a week)
-Go to the food bank
-Go to the store (cats need to eat too)
-Try to sell some stuff on Craigslist
-Clean
-Do laundry

Not necessarily in that order.

I feel like the lamest human being on the planet. There is no way I am going to get all of that stuff done before I am supposed to pick him up from work. And it’s not that anyone (except for me) expects me to get it all done… I just basically feel like a loser. Instead of being compensated for my brain power, my life consists of trying to accomplish every stupid and menial task in existence. I should be juggling projects but instead I am juggling laundry and it makes me ANGRY.

Honestly, even if we could afford for me to stay home, I wouldn’t want to. There was a time when I thought I did, but it turns out that I’d much rather pay someone else half a day’s wages to clean my house. I have something to contribute to this world… something more important than clean dishes. Fuck all if I know what it is, but it’s there.

Adventures In Pantry Cooking: Jambalaya

Because I think Grape Nuts is the worst cereal EVER and the only thing that can possibly be worse than Grape Nuts is Grape Nuts without milk, I have undertaken another pantry cooking adventure this afternoon.

I had this box of Zatarain’s Jambalaya mix, see. And a can of corn. And some diced bell peppers. And some skillet potatoes and seasoned beans left over from a restaurant meal. And a little over a cup of jasmine rice. And a few ounces of mozzarella. And… it turned out pretty darn well, for a vegetarian dish created from a little leftover this and a little leftover that. Certainly filling. And exponentially better than stupid Grape Nuts.

Of course, I added a good amount of salsa to mine.

Bad Day

She spilled her coffee, broke a shoelace
Smeared the lipstick on her face
Slammed the door and said Im sorry, i
I had a bad day again

-Bad Day, Fuel

I feel right now as though nothing will ever be right again.  I feel like all the dreams I had for myself have been dashed.  I feel like if I could just lay down and die, that would be the best possible thing for the universe.

But life doesn’t happen that way.  And tomorrow … is another day.

Another day to hold my head high and keep on with the “fake it til you make it” philosophy.  It’s a good philosophy, but damn, I’ve been faking it for a long fucking time.

I stopped the Prozac a while back and that was a mistake.  I really, really need health insurance.  The drug itself is cheap, but the doctor visit required to get a prescription is… not cheap.

Wading In A Sea Of Discontent

toothpastefordinner.com

No…

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I don’t have much to say today…

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But I smile at these cartoons…

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So I’m recording them forever, or until WordPress unexpectedly deletes my blog…

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Not that I’ve had any problems with WordPress… just sayin.

Awry

I did call my mom, and made arrangements for her to come get me, but everything seemed all wrong.  Or so that was my excuse, anyway.  I mean, it did seem all wrong, but of course it would… to me.

And so I am still here.  It feels neither wrong nor right that I am.

The new place is small and cold and we’re always a step away from being homeless… Payment is due each Friday, and if you don’t have the money, then you’re fucked.  I guess that instead of complaining about it, I should feel lucky to have a roof over my head.  Many people would find this to be the lap of luxury, and indeed it does provide everything we need or could even really want in terms of shelter — we have internet and cable television, and the Coke machine is a short elevator ride away.

I guess I am just blue from selling our things.  I’ve cried quite a bit because they aren’t really just “things”… each item I’ve sold so far is representative of a dream, or of the larger “happily ever after” dream.  None of it was “just stuff” or meaningless in the least.  We had a blueprint for the life we wanted, and we lived in the perfect (for us) house that we were working on filling with the perfect (for us) stuff… all bargain buys, some from pawn shops and some from garage sales… We took things that were falling apart, that no one else wanted, and made them our own.  And somehow, everything went so incredibly awry.

Fuck.

I had intended to write here about a question from a Myspace survey: “Are you high maintenance?”  But instead, I am going to take a nap.

Breathe

Sometimes I think that if the “other woman” knew that the “original woman” was really a person with a heart, a soul, and hopes and dreams that are tied up in the relationship she’s threatening, she would be a little less hot to trot.

I find myself wondering if this is a type of karmic retribution.

But it can’t be, because there are too many other problems… more than just some girl in another state who is “better” and “classier” than me (despite having been in multiple knock-out, drag-down, dial-911 fights with her currently incarcerated baby-daddy).

I’m thinking about having my mom drive up from Missouri tomorrow to come get me.

I would miss our cat and our friends.  I’d miss the man for sure, despite everything.  But I would be able to breathe again.

I Smell Failure

Didn’t get the data job.  My recruiter said that they really liked me and are trying to get budget approval for another position to put me in, but I don’t know whether that’s true or whether it’s just another load of recruiter bullshit.

I don’t know how much I really care.  I don’t really want to be here anymore.

I’m still trying to move out of my house.  Actually today is an extra-special day because I have to sell a certain amount of my personal belongings by noon tomorrow, or else we won’t be able to afford the place we’re staying now.  There are other personal things going on and I guess you could just say that I don’t feel like fighting the world anymore.  I am TIRED.  I am physically tired and mentally tired and damned near emotionally dead.

It’s the man’s birthday.  I haven’t acknowledged it, but then again, he hasn’t been out of bed.  I have absolutely no money to do anything for him.  And we have been fighting like cats and dogs ever since a longtime “friend” of his came to town a week ago.  This “friend” stayed in our new place before I did, then went to my house, and I didn’t want her there because I wasn’t allowed to be involved.  It was all a big fucking secret and I say FUCK THAT.  This “friend” also calls him daily, usually multiple times, and texts him all the time.  She apparently “tells him jokes” and “makes him smile” and “respects his advice.”  Good for her.  I personally don’t send pictures of my cleavage to my “friends,” but hey, I’m just a boring, depressed prude.  And, as he was quick to point out, I don’t have much.

But yes, I do feel bad about not being able to do anything for his birthday.  We are in a tight spot.  My evening is going to be spent meeting people from Craigslist and trying like hell to sell my furniture, my washer/dryer, etc… because if I fail, I have no idea where I am going to be living 24 hours from now.  That doesn’t leave a lot of time for birthday celebrations.  I don’t even have money to buy stuff for a cake (not that he likes cake)… or to cook anything more exotic than Top Ramen for dinner.  I am a failure of a girlfriend and a failure of a human being.

And that’s what’s going on in life today.

I Could Spit Fire

Wow, I am in a positively dreadful mood.  It’s after 8 pm, I haven’t eaten today, I’m exhausted, and *someone* misplaced the car keys.  You know, the ONLY KEY to the ONLY VEHICLE we have.  We are nowhere close to being fully moved — hell, our cats are still at the old house — and now I am waylaid by a stupid fucking set of missing keys… that seem to be of little consequence to anyone but me.

And of course, I have my substitute teacher orientation tomorrow, which I will apparently have to miss if we don’t find the fucking keys.  Missing orientation disqualifies me from working for them until the next orientation, which won’t be until next semester.  To say I am a little upset would be an understatement of collosal proportions.