So the tooth is still a bit bothersome. I turned in last night at midnight, woke up at 8:30 this morning, popped another pill, and then slept until 1:00 PM. I am the queen of unmotivation today!
I actually did step outside the door of my apartment today. And I showered. :)
Good ol' crazy Steve Perry invited me over to watch The Godfather Part I through III today. I made it through half of a Husson's Pizza and Part I, but then decided to call it a night. There's only so much of each other we can take in one day.
About halfway through the movie, right before Sonny gets shot down, Steve leaned forward with a sudden intake of breath, screamed, looked all around screaming, then looked over at me, screamed, and then jumped back screaming. I thought for sure he had finally snapped and was going to go for a knife from the kitchen and plant it deep within my skull. But no. He had simply fallen asleep and had a bad dream. Jesus, he scared me though. Crazy ass motherfucker. He had that wild look in his eye and he told me that for a second there he didn't know who I was. Scary shit.
On the drive home to my apartment I was overcome by a sudden wave of lonliness and aloneness and I started crying. I was depressed by the fact that I have no friends in this city anymore. I have no friends that are not alredy affiliated with a unit. Cyndi is married and has kids, Sally is married, Eric, Patrick, and Kevin are married, Kelly has a kid. My brother lives here but he has a family and other commitments. And visiting all of these people who belong with other people just drives home the fact and feeling that I'm alone. I have no one else in my unit. I am alone.
It's not about being in a relationship. That's not it. I'm content with being single. I am not content, however in feeling isolated and detached...having no one to be my partner in crime.
Chris and Shawn have each other, Ben and Pat have each other, Ken and Leslie have each other, Burnsy has his girl in Tampa...who do I have? My family, yes, but they are units seperate from me. Mom has Dad, Wayne has Cheryl and Megan.
The only people that aren't part of a unit are Rose, Nora, and Steve. Rose lives in Maryland, Nora in Parkersburg, and Steve is fucking crazy.
I guess that's why the idea of moving to Baltimore seems so appealing. I'm tired of being lonely!
I want somebody who sees the pointlessness and still keeps their purpose in mind;
I want somebody who has a tortured soul...some of the time;
I want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery;
Or maybe just put it all to words and make me say, "You know, I never heard it put that way".
Make me say, "What did you just say?"
~Ani Difranco "Asking Too Much"
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Thursday, April 22, 2004
An Ending & A Beginning
The Memo
It's final...it's official...I have quit the methadone clinic.
My last day at Charleston Treatment Center was on Thursday, April 1, 2004. On Wednesday night I wrote a heartfelt, but quirky letter to the staff, ribbing my (former) coworkers one last time and saying "goodbye". I also decided to type up some loose notes to take with me in my exit interview. The notes turned into a very direct and honest four page memo on why I was leaving the clinic, what was wrong with morale, and how it could be repaired. I gave a copy of my goodbye letter and the memo to every staff member. I also faxed a copy of the memo to the HR coordinator who in turn faxed it to the regional manager. I then presented it to my (former) program director during my nerve-wracking exit interview. My former coworkers are now referring to me as Jerry McGuire, I hear. :)
A Pirate Ship, a Privy, and a Perfect Moment
That weekend I packed my parents up in my car and drove to Baltimore, MD to visit my sister for the weekend. We all went to the Inner Harbor one day to see some sights and enjoy the day. It had been cold and rainy all weekend, but the sun had decided to come out and warm up the air for a brief period of time.
While at the Harbor I got to tour this fucking awesome naval vessel built in the last 1700s called the U.S.S. Constellation. It looked like more like a pirate ship than a naval vessel, but that’s only because I’ve watched way too many movies. ;) The upper deck was fascinating, with massive masts, and sails, and coils of rope lying all about. I was half tempted to try and climb up to the crow’s nest, but decided against it. Because I’m a pussy.
Anyway, the second deck down was made up of the captain’s quarters and the gunnery. I had to bend down from time to time to keep from hitting my head, but nothing too annoying. Cannons were lined up all along either side of this deck, poking their menacing heads out, ready to fire at enemy ships. The captain’s quarters were nice, considering, and consisted of a large dining/meeting area, a small bedroom, a sitting room, and a very small, private privy. I posed for a picture sitting in the captain's privy, but that roll of film didn't turn out! Damn piece of shit camera!
Anyway, the third deck down held the officer’s quarters, which were basic wooden cells with beds built in the walls. Fancy, eh? This deck was also where the crew prepared and ate their meals (the galley) and where the lower ranking crewmen slept in hammocks hanging from the ceiling or on the deck itself. At the far end, away from the officer’s quarters, was the sickbay and doctor’s quarters. It was pretty cramped and I had to stay continuously ducked down to keep from knocking my noggin. I had a hard time imagining a crew of a 100 men or so sharing such a tiny space for months and months! It would’ve drove me fucking insane!
The fourth deck down was the cargo hold and it was made more for crawling than for walking. The boards/planks at the very bottom of the ship were the original, ancient wooden planks that were cut out of trees that were felled about 200 years ago to build this fantastic ship. Those pieces of wood had seen 200 years of sailing and were still in fairly decent condition! Pretty cool stuff, man!
After the pirate ship, Dad and I walked to the end of the pier, while Rose and Mom window-shopped. I listened while he pointed out buildings and landmarks like he had visited there 20 times before. I enjoyed the sound of youthful excitement in his voice, the warm of the sun, the sound of the water, and the gentle coolness of the breeze against my skin. A small group of Mexican street musicians set up and began playing; one guy with a panpipe and two guitar accompanists. Words cannot capture the beautiful and haunting quality of the music that they produced that day. It had been a while since I had heard anything that inspired such an awe and stillness in my soul. Walking & laughing with my family, the sun, the smell of the clean air, the people, the crisp breeze, and that music. It tied everything together and made the moment perfect.
A Challenge
I drove back that Sunday and on Monday, April 5, 2004, I started my new job at Prestera Center for Mental Health. I now work for Prestera's Putnam County Innerchange Program, which is an intensive outpatient day treatment program for behavior-disordered kids, ages 5 to 18.
The “day treatment” part means that the kids attend from 8:30am to 2:30pm. They receive 1 and ½ hours of school, 4 hours of group therapy, and at least 30 minutes of individual therapy per day. You’re probably thinking, “That’s a hell of a lot of therapy in one day.” Yup. It is. That’s the “intensive outpatient” part. The kids attend the program from anywhere between 30 to 60 days, depending on the severity of their issue.
These kids have been kicked out of the school system for repeated and/or extreme behavioral problems. The problems/diagnoses include separation anxiety, social anxiety, depression, ADHD, oppositional-defiant disorder, anger management issues, self-mutilation, bipolarity, personality disorders, and substance abuse problems.
Let me tell ya…the position is proving to be quite challenging. I've had to almost totally rethink my approach to counseling. In dealing with kids, I’m more like a teacher. It's very strange for me, really. I'm actually coming home every night and creating "lesson plans" for the next days group sessions.
Working with these guys for the little time that I have has already proven rewarding. I learn so much every single day and I know that the skills I'm picking up now are going to prove invaluable to me in the future.
One thing I've learned this week is that I'm "old". The 12 year old girl in my adolescent group said yesterday, "I've never heard an old person say 'dude' before!" Old person? What the fuck?
Yeah…I think I'm going to like it. :)
The Memo
It's final...it's official...I have quit the methadone clinic.
My last day at Charleston Treatment Center was on Thursday, April 1, 2004. On Wednesday night I wrote a heartfelt, but quirky letter to the staff, ribbing my (former) coworkers one last time and saying "goodbye". I also decided to type up some loose notes to take with me in my exit interview. The notes turned into a very direct and honest four page memo on why I was leaving the clinic, what was wrong with morale, and how it could be repaired. I gave a copy of my goodbye letter and the memo to every staff member. I also faxed a copy of the memo to the HR coordinator who in turn faxed it to the regional manager. I then presented it to my (former) program director during my nerve-wracking exit interview. My former coworkers are now referring to me as Jerry McGuire, I hear. :)
A Pirate Ship, a Privy, and a Perfect Moment
That weekend I packed my parents up in my car and drove to Baltimore, MD to visit my sister for the weekend. We all went to the Inner Harbor one day to see some sights and enjoy the day. It had been cold and rainy all weekend, but the sun had decided to come out and warm up the air for a brief period of time.
While at the Harbor I got to tour this fucking awesome naval vessel built in the last 1700s called the U.S.S. Constellation. It looked like more like a pirate ship than a naval vessel, but that’s only because I’ve watched way too many movies. ;) The upper deck was fascinating, with massive masts, and sails, and coils of rope lying all about. I was half tempted to try and climb up to the crow’s nest, but decided against it. Because I’m a pussy.
Anyway, the second deck down was made up of the captain’s quarters and the gunnery. I had to bend down from time to time to keep from hitting my head, but nothing too annoying. Cannons were lined up all along either side of this deck, poking their menacing heads out, ready to fire at enemy ships. The captain’s quarters were nice, considering, and consisted of a large dining/meeting area, a small bedroom, a sitting room, and a very small, private privy. I posed for a picture sitting in the captain's privy, but that roll of film didn't turn out! Damn piece of shit camera!
Anyway, the third deck down held the officer’s quarters, which were basic wooden cells with beds built in the walls. Fancy, eh? This deck was also where the crew prepared and ate their meals (the galley) and where the lower ranking crewmen slept in hammocks hanging from the ceiling or on the deck itself. At the far end, away from the officer’s quarters, was the sickbay and doctor’s quarters. It was pretty cramped and I had to stay continuously ducked down to keep from knocking my noggin. I had a hard time imagining a crew of a 100 men or so sharing such a tiny space for months and months! It would’ve drove me fucking insane!
The fourth deck down was the cargo hold and it was made more for crawling than for walking. The boards/planks at the very bottom of the ship were the original, ancient wooden planks that were cut out of trees that were felled about 200 years ago to build this fantastic ship. Those pieces of wood had seen 200 years of sailing and were still in fairly decent condition! Pretty cool stuff, man!
After the pirate ship, Dad and I walked to the end of the pier, while Rose and Mom window-shopped. I listened while he pointed out buildings and landmarks like he had visited there 20 times before. I enjoyed the sound of youthful excitement in his voice, the warm of the sun, the sound of the water, and the gentle coolness of the breeze against my skin. A small group of Mexican street musicians set up and began playing; one guy with a panpipe and two guitar accompanists. Words cannot capture the beautiful and haunting quality of the music that they produced that day. It had been a while since I had heard anything that inspired such an awe and stillness in my soul. Walking & laughing with my family, the sun, the smell of the clean air, the people, the crisp breeze, and that music. It tied everything together and made the moment perfect.
A Challenge
I drove back that Sunday and on Monday, April 5, 2004, I started my new job at Prestera Center for Mental Health. I now work for Prestera's Putnam County Innerchange Program, which is an intensive outpatient day treatment program for behavior-disordered kids, ages 5 to 18.
The “day treatment” part means that the kids attend from 8:30am to 2:30pm. They receive 1 and ½ hours of school, 4 hours of group therapy, and at least 30 minutes of individual therapy per day. You’re probably thinking, “That’s a hell of a lot of therapy in one day.” Yup. It is. That’s the “intensive outpatient” part. The kids attend the program from anywhere between 30 to 60 days, depending on the severity of their issue.
These kids have been kicked out of the school system for repeated and/or extreme behavioral problems. The problems/diagnoses include separation anxiety, social anxiety, depression, ADHD, oppositional-defiant disorder, anger management issues, self-mutilation, bipolarity, personality disorders, and substance abuse problems.
Let me tell ya…the position is proving to be quite challenging. I've had to almost totally rethink my approach to counseling. In dealing with kids, I’m more like a teacher. It's very strange for me, really. I'm actually coming home every night and creating "lesson plans" for the next days group sessions.
Working with these guys for the little time that I have has already proven rewarding. I learn so much every single day and I know that the skills I'm picking up now are going to prove invaluable to me in the future.
One thing I've learned this week is that I'm "old". The 12 year old girl in my adolescent group said yesterday, "I've never heard an old person say 'dude' before!" Old person? What the fuck?
Yeah…I think I'm going to like it. :)
Monday, March 29, 2004
As I was leaving the clinic this afternoon, walking to the back parking lot toward my car, when I was met by the sounds of a car stereo blaring some sort of country music. I walked up the steps to the back lot and found the elderly janitor, long-handled dust pan in one hand and a broom in the other, sweeping the asphalt. His grey hair shone like silver in the afternoon sunlight as he gazed downward at the ground, intent upon his task. I recognized the music as Johnny Cash and smiled to myself as the old man danced a step or two to the side. I kept walking toward my car. He apparently heard the sound of my boots on the pavement as he abrubtly spun around to face me. I noticed for the first time that his face was very lined, with years of stress, smoking, sun, and life. He held a lit cigar in his mouth, pinched between his teeth. He looked at me for a second, I smiled, he smiled, and then looked down and began sweeping again. I opened my car door, threw in my purse, and waited for him to look my way once more. He did. I waved and smiled again, got in, and drove away.
It's moments like these...when we see another creature enjoying a moment and being alive in that moment...that make us smile and can help us understand what life is about. It's about being. It's about living. It's about being alive in the moment.
And why is it that we are so afraid to let others see us living, loving, and being alive in that moment? We're so afraid to make ourselves vulnerable. We're so afraid to be as we naturally are...unless we're sure the door is locked, the curtains are closed, and no one is watching.
I'm tired of hiding my joy because you're looking at me. I'm tired of wondering what you think about me...because I know you rarely ever do.
It's moments like these...when we see another creature enjoying a moment and being alive in that moment...that make us smile and can help us understand what life is about. It's about being. It's about living. It's about being alive in the moment.
And why is it that we are so afraid to let others see us living, loving, and being alive in that moment? We're so afraid to make ourselves vulnerable. We're so afraid to be as we naturally are...unless we're sure the door is locked, the curtains are closed, and no one is watching.
I'm tired of hiding my joy because you're looking at me. I'm tired of wondering what you think about me...because I know you rarely ever do.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
My ass hurts.
I woke this morning in bed with a bleeding rectum, a empty wine bottle by my side, and a pair of my panties on my head. There was a mysterious trail of a single hoof print leading from my kitchen sink to my bed and back again.
What I think is that a one-legged evil demon goat climed out of my sewage system through my kitchen sink, drank my wine, hopped over to the bed and fucked me up the ass. Damn demon goats!
At least he didn't steal my panties.
I woke this morning in bed with a bleeding rectum, a empty wine bottle by my side, and a pair of my panties on my head. There was a mysterious trail of a single hoof print leading from my kitchen sink to my bed and back again.
What I think is that a one-legged evil demon goat climed out of my sewage system through my kitchen sink, drank my wine, hopped over to the bed and fucked me up the ass. Damn demon goats!
At least he didn't steal my panties.
My Nora, Happy Magic Land, and The Methadone Phone
A couple of weekends ago my friend Nora and I went to visit Shawn and Chris in, what Nora called, Happy Magic Land or Columbus. It was an excellent and therapeutic weekend for both Nora and myself thanks to those two crazy, lovable, latently homosexual men of mine. :)
We arrived on a Saturday and went to BW3 to play trivia and eat the chicken wing. We then went Krogering and purchased le alcohol to drink that night. Chris called my voice mail at work and acted like he was jonesing for methadone, making semi-sexual noises and screaming, "I need a fix! Gimme a fix! I need some goddamn methadone!" I forwarded it to all the counselors the following week and they all thought it was one of their patients flipping out. :)
Once back at the apartment we decided to play drinking games. Shawn was drinking Kamakazies, Chris had some creamy beer that kept creaming all over the table and his pants, and my Nora and I were drinking something like a Koolaid that we dubbed The Methadone. Of course it only took a few rounds of Fuck the Dealer to get me, Nora, and Shawn...um...fucked. Chris says he wasn't even buzzed. Who knows? I've learned never to question the tolerance level of a man who has had an intimate, long-term relationship with Jack Daniels.
Nora is supervisor at Parkersburg Tx Center and she carries the emergency/after hours cell phone for that clinic. Basically, if a patient is in crisis they can call that number and receive after hours/emergency counseling. Sometimes it rings like mad, sometimes it doesn't ring at all. So...Nora had it with her in Columbus...and we were all trashed. Shawn and Chris kept threatening to answer the Methadone Phone and telling the patient calling to "get a fucking life you damned junkie"! Hearts of gold, those boys have. It's probably a really good thing that it didn't ring all weekend.
Shawn used Nora's cell phone to call my home voice mail and left this message in his best Hogwarts School of Wizardry voice: "Hello!!! This is Harry Potter! Harry Potter!!!! Hermione!!! What are you doing with that broomstick?!?!? Oh my! Blimey and bugger! Oh my!" I played that one for some other counselors as well. :)
We started playing euchre and trying to teach Nora while we were all drunk. We ran out of some alcohol that Chris needed to make mine and Nora's drinks...he made her something he called Nora's Suicide...it was basically a pink Kamakazie. She didn't drink it. Shawn went upstairs and passed out when the neighbors came over to join in the playing of the cards. Nora and I went to attempt to wake him at one point. We hopped on the bed and began humping him...well...Nora sort of bounced around in the corner of the bed with her mouth hanging open, making noises like a low functioning mentally challenged individual. Shawn lifted his head and said, "I'm up! I'm up!" and then passed out again.
Joe, the neighbor, started to touch me at one point and I provided unintentional entertainment for all by saying, "No! Don't touch me! Didn't we discuss this before?" Finally, the neighbors left and we all passed out. No one was molested or hurt. I slept safely and soundly next to my own personal cuddly bald man, Shawn
On Sunday we awoke and we all piled downstairs on the couch for an all day Nightmare on Elm Street movie marathon!!!! The boys had watched Nightmare on Elm Street, Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Revenge, and part of Nightmare on Elm Street: Dream Warriors on Saturday. So we finished Dream Warriors and Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master and then broke for an excellent pasta dinner, cooked by our very own Chef Berry. We then watched Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Child through Wes Craven's New Nightmare. At moments we found ourselves reliving our childhood fears of Freddy Krueger, but mostly we mocked the films Mystery Science Theatre 3000 style. I mean...so all Nancy would've had to do in the first one is absorb people's "powers" when they die (like Alice in #4) so she could've become a super bitch and kicked his ass with a nursery rhyme? Or maybe she should've went down to the local mental hospital/former convent where Freddy's nun mother's body was bricked in a wall and released her spirit (like Alice's friend in #5)? Or maybe she could've donned some 3D glasses prior to going to sleep and would've been able to see differently in the dream (like Katherine/Maggie in #6)? And the things that gave Freddy his terrifying powers were simply sperm-like demons with skeletal faces (#6)? And dogs piss fire in dreams (#4)? What the hell?
Monday, Nora and I had the day off, so we spent the morning window shopping at the Easton shopping center in Columbus. After walking around all day and oggling expensive clothing, handbags, jewels, and homefurnishings in such fine stores as Bebe, Guess, Coach, Steve Madden, Diamond Cellar, Z Gallerie, and Pottery Barn, we stopped at the Cheesecake Factory for a slice of...cheesecake. It's a rare thing, I think, when two women will spend all day at a mall and walk away with nothing but a satisfied sweet tooth and a sense that all of the pretty things that they had looked at all day long were just pretty things that neither one of them needed to be happy. :)
So we left Happy Magic Land, and headed back across the disturbingly flat and open farmland of Ohio as night was falling. And we ran into the consoling embrace of the dark, whispering West Virginia hills. Hills speckled with light here and there...like the night sky turned upside down...where we could hear the trees dreaming of spring...and where we could see Orion blazing proudly above our heads.
A couple of weekends ago my friend Nora and I went to visit Shawn and Chris in, what Nora called, Happy Magic Land or Columbus. It was an excellent and therapeutic weekend for both Nora and myself thanks to those two crazy, lovable, latently homosexual men of mine. :)
We arrived on a Saturday and went to BW3 to play trivia and eat the chicken wing. We then went Krogering and purchased le alcohol to drink that night. Chris called my voice mail at work and acted like he was jonesing for methadone, making semi-sexual noises and screaming, "I need a fix! Gimme a fix! I need some goddamn methadone!" I forwarded it to all the counselors the following week and they all thought it was one of their patients flipping out. :)
Once back at the apartment we decided to play drinking games. Shawn was drinking Kamakazies, Chris had some creamy beer that kept creaming all over the table and his pants, and my Nora and I were drinking something like a Koolaid that we dubbed The Methadone. Of course it only took a few rounds of Fuck the Dealer to get me, Nora, and Shawn...um...fucked. Chris says he wasn't even buzzed. Who knows? I've learned never to question the tolerance level of a man who has had an intimate, long-term relationship with Jack Daniels.
Nora is supervisor at Parkersburg Tx Center and she carries the emergency/after hours cell phone for that clinic. Basically, if a patient is in crisis they can call that number and receive after hours/emergency counseling. Sometimes it rings like mad, sometimes it doesn't ring at all. So...Nora had it with her in Columbus...and we were all trashed. Shawn and Chris kept threatening to answer the Methadone Phone and telling the patient calling to "get a fucking life you damned junkie"! Hearts of gold, those boys have. It's probably a really good thing that it didn't ring all weekend.
Shawn used Nora's cell phone to call my home voice mail and left this message in his best Hogwarts School of Wizardry voice: "Hello!!! This is Harry Potter! Harry Potter!!!! Hermione!!! What are you doing with that broomstick?!?!? Oh my! Blimey and bugger! Oh my!" I played that one for some other counselors as well. :)
We started playing euchre and trying to teach Nora while we were all drunk. We ran out of some alcohol that Chris needed to make mine and Nora's drinks...he made her something he called Nora's Suicide...it was basically a pink Kamakazie. She didn't drink it. Shawn went upstairs and passed out when the neighbors came over to join in the playing of the cards. Nora and I went to attempt to wake him at one point. We hopped on the bed and began humping him...well...Nora sort of bounced around in the corner of the bed with her mouth hanging open, making noises like a low functioning mentally challenged individual. Shawn lifted his head and said, "I'm up! I'm up!" and then passed out again.
Joe, the neighbor, started to touch me at one point and I provided unintentional entertainment for all by saying, "No! Don't touch me! Didn't we discuss this before?" Finally, the neighbors left and we all passed out. No one was molested or hurt. I slept safely and soundly next to my own personal cuddly bald man, Shawn
On Sunday we awoke and we all piled downstairs on the couch for an all day Nightmare on Elm Street movie marathon!!!! The boys had watched Nightmare on Elm Street, Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Revenge, and part of Nightmare on Elm Street: Dream Warriors on Saturday. So we finished Dream Warriors and Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master and then broke for an excellent pasta dinner, cooked by our very own Chef Berry. We then watched Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Child through Wes Craven's New Nightmare. At moments we found ourselves reliving our childhood fears of Freddy Krueger, but mostly we mocked the films Mystery Science Theatre 3000 style. I mean...so all Nancy would've had to do in the first one is absorb people's "powers" when they die (like Alice in #4) so she could've become a super bitch and kicked his ass with a nursery rhyme? Or maybe she should've went down to the local mental hospital/former convent where Freddy's nun mother's body was bricked in a wall and released her spirit (like Alice's friend in #5)? Or maybe she could've donned some 3D glasses prior to going to sleep and would've been able to see differently in the dream (like Katherine/Maggie in #6)? And the things that gave Freddy his terrifying powers were simply sperm-like demons with skeletal faces (#6)? And dogs piss fire in dreams (#4)? What the hell?
Monday, Nora and I had the day off, so we spent the morning window shopping at the Easton shopping center in Columbus. After walking around all day and oggling expensive clothing, handbags, jewels, and homefurnishings in such fine stores as Bebe, Guess, Coach, Steve Madden, Diamond Cellar, Z Gallerie, and Pottery Barn, we stopped at the Cheesecake Factory for a slice of...cheesecake. It's a rare thing, I think, when two women will spend all day at a mall and walk away with nothing but a satisfied sweet tooth and a sense that all of the pretty things that they had looked at all day long were just pretty things that neither one of them needed to be happy. :)
So we left Happy Magic Land, and headed back across the disturbingly flat and open farmland of Ohio as night was falling. And we ran into the consoling embrace of the dark, whispering West Virginia hills. Hills speckled with light here and there...like the night sky turned upside down...where we could hear the trees dreaming of spring...and where we could see Orion blazing proudly above our heads.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
This weekend has been quite peaceful and restful. I hung with the family and cleaned up my little apartment.
I bought some red Martha Stewart sheets this morning. (Who knows? They could be collecter's items one day!) They look quite nice on my little bed.
Dad fixed Granny's lamp and hung it over my bed. It casts the perfect amount of soft light over the room. Very cozy.
It feels nice to have a clean home. It's just me exercising what little control I have over my environment. :) Recognizing it doesn't make it any less comforting.
I wish I had someone to cuddle up with in my new, red, Martha Stweart sheets.
I bought some red Martha Stewart sheets this morning. (Who knows? They could be collecter's items one day!) They look quite nice on my little bed.
Dad fixed Granny's lamp and hung it over my bed. It casts the perfect amount of soft light over the room. Very cozy.
It feels nice to have a clean home. It's just me exercising what little control I have over my environment. :) Recognizing it doesn't make it any less comforting.
I wish I had someone to cuddle up with in my new, red, Martha Stweart sheets.
Friday, March 19, 2004
I'm doing it! I'm really doing it, man!
In spite of my evil Marshall website, Prestera decided to hire me! Huzzah!
As of April 5th, I'll be a Case Manager/Counselor for Prestera Center for Mental Health's Advantage Valley Interchange program. As I previously stated, I'll be working with 12 kids, ages 4-18, doing group counseling, one on one counseling, treatment planning, referrals, etc. The kids in the program are there due to being kicked out of school for a variety of behavioral problems. They must successfully complete Prestera's Interchange program before being allowed back into the school system. I'm looking forward to working with a more impressionable population. I guess I'm thinking that I'd like to get to these kids before they have the chance to become addicts and dysfunctional adults. It should prove to be exciting!
I'll be making $20,000 per year, so I took a $3000 pay cut...but not really. There are incentive programs and I should be able to make $900 extra dollars every quarter, so $3600 extra a year. Also the insurance is cheaper. In the long run, I actually might be making about $300 less annually than I could make if I stayed at CTC. But it will be more than I took home this past year, so I'm not really worried about it. :)
Other good stuff about my new job:
Prestera actually wants their employees to better themselves and they're willing to reimburse me for school, which means I'll be able to go back to grad school this fall!
I'll be working with M.A. and PhD level psychologists, so I'm sure to learn a lot if I keep my eyes and ears open.
I get to wear jeans!
I'll have "normal people" hours again!!!!!
The Resignation
I turned my resignation letter in to Tanya this morning. My last day will be April 1, April Fool's Day. I've entertained the thought of running into her office on that day and saying, "April Fool's! I'm not quitting! Gotcha!" And then saying, "Um...no...that was the April Fool's joke. I'm really quitting. Goodbye!" But no...I won't burn any bridges. Even if they are rickety old foot bridges.
Anyway, Patrick gave his notice on Tuesday, so there is a Counseling Supervisor position open. Cyndi and Sally are applying for it, and had I not been totally done with CTC, I too would have applied. Tanya mentioned it to me on Wednesday evening and said that I should submit a letter of interest. I told her that I'd probably end up shooting myself if I got it. She just laughed. I wasn't joking.
When I handed her my resignation letter this morning, I'm most certain that she thought it was a letter of interrest for the supervisor job. She was all smiles when she first took it from my hand...and then she abrubtly stopped smiling. She asked where I would be working. She responded that she had learned a lot at Prestera during her time there and felt it would be a good career move for me. Then she asked if there was anything she could get for me to make me stay. I just smiled a wry smile, shook my head, laughed a little, and said, "No, Tanya. No, there's nothing".
I'll miss...
My co-workers. I've met some FANTASTIC people during my stint at CTC and made some good friends. I'm determined not to loose touch with Patrick, Kevin, Sally, Vander, and Cyndi at least. I hope I can keep contact with more, but that's unlikely. I'll miss my office. I'll miss early morning conversations in Kevin's office. I'll miss lunch with Cyndi. I'll miss Nancy's stuttering when she's flustered. I'll miss Cheryl's crazy booty dance, Cindy's oversexed persona, and Mike's friendly/fatherly advice. I'll miss Vander Outlaw's harmless sexual innuendos. I'll miss Patrick's personal space invasions. I'll miss Joey's paddling, Sally's princessiness, Malena's defensiveness, and Jenny's evil little anime girl looks. I'll miss all the faker, the shit-pisser, Whizinator, and "my dog ate my methadone" stories.
My patients. I told about 10 of them today that I was leaving. I was met with a range of emotions from tears (from a great young man with whom I've built an excellent rapport and who has come very far) to anger to blank stares. :) It's been more difficult than I thought it would be. In a way, I feel like I'm letting down 45 people who've stuck out the program. I've taken the time and worked very hard to build up trusting and safe relationship where my patients can come and unload...and now I'm walking away from that. But I guess this is the last lesson that I'll get to teach them. That they trusted once and it worked...so now they must have the courage to trust again with a new counselor. Several people thanked me today for "everything I've done for them". I HATE hearing that! I just redirect it and make them realize that they're responsible for every change in their lives...I'm just their sounding board, support, and guidance.
Well...I hope I haven't fucked anybody up too much. There's always the next two weeks, though!!! :)
In spite of my evil Marshall website, Prestera decided to hire me! Huzzah!
As of April 5th, I'll be a Case Manager/Counselor for Prestera Center for Mental Health's Advantage Valley Interchange program. As I previously stated, I'll be working with 12 kids, ages 4-18, doing group counseling, one on one counseling, treatment planning, referrals, etc. The kids in the program are there due to being kicked out of school for a variety of behavioral problems. They must successfully complete Prestera's Interchange program before being allowed back into the school system. I'm looking forward to working with a more impressionable population. I guess I'm thinking that I'd like to get to these kids before they have the chance to become addicts and dysfunctional adults. It should prove to be exciting!
I'll be making $20,000 per year, so I took a $3000 pay cut...but not really. There are incentive programs and I should be able to make $900 extra dollars every quarter, so $3600 extra a year. Also the insurance is cheaper. In the long run, I actually might be making about $300 less annually than I could make if I stayed at CTC. But it will be more than I took home this past year, so I'm not really worried about it. :)
Other good stuff about my new job:
Prestera actually wants their employees to better themselves and they're willing to reimburse me for school, which means I'll be able to go back to grad school this fall!
I'll be working with M.A. and PhD level psychologists, so I'm sure to learn a lot if I keep my eyes and ears open.
I get to wear jeans!
I'll have "normal people" hours again!!!!!
The Resignation
I turned my resignation letter in to Tanya this morning. My last day will be April 1, April Fool's Day. I've entertained the thought of running into her office on that day and saying, "April Fool's! I'm not quitting! Gotcha!" And then saying, "Um...no...that was the April Fool's joke. I'm really quitting. Goodbye!" But no...I won't burn any bridges. Even if they are rickety old foot bridges.
Anyway, Patrick gave his notice on Tuesday, so there is a Counseling Supervisor position open. Cyndi and Sally are applying for it, and had I not been totally done with CTC, I too would have applied. Tanya mentioned it to me on Wednesday evening and said that I should submit a letter of interest. I told her that I'd probably end up shooting myself if I got it. She just laughed. I wasn't joking.
When I handed her my resignation letter this morning, I'm most certain that she thought it was a letter of interrest for the supervisor job. She was all smiles when she first took it from my hand...and then she abrubtly stopped smiling. She asked where I would be working. She responded that she had learned a lot at Prestera during her time there and felt it would be a good career move for me. Then she asked if there was anything she could get for me to make me stay. I just smiled a wry smile, shook my head, laughed a little, and said, "No, Tanya. No, there's nothing".
I'll miss...
My co-workers. I've met some FANTASTIC people during my stint at CTC and made some good friends. I'm determined not to loose touch with Patrick, Kevin, Sally, Vander, and Cyndi at least. I hope I can keep contact with more, but that's unlikely. I'll miss my office. I'll miss early morning conversations in Kevin's office. I'll miss lunch with Cyndi. I'll miss Nancy's stuttering when she's flustered. I'll miss Cheryl's crazy booty dance, Cindy's oversexed persona, and Mike's friendly/fatherly advice. I'll miss Vander Outlaw's harmless sexual innuendos. I'll miss Patrick's personal space invasions. I'll miss Joey's paddling, Sally's princessiness, Malena's defensiveness, and Jenny's evil little anime girl looks. I'll miss all the faker, the shit-pisser, Whizinator, and "my dog ate my methadone" stories.
My patients. I told about 10 of them today that I was leaving. I was met with a range of emotions from tears (from a great young man with whom I've built an excellent rapport and who has come very far) to anger to blank stares. :) It's been more difficult than I thought it would be. In a way, I feel like I'm letting down 45 people who've stuck out the program. I've taken the time and worked very hard to build up trusting and safe relationship where my patients can come and unload...and now I'm walking away from that. But I guess this is the last lesson that I'll get to teach them. That they trusted once and it worked...so now they must have the courage to trust again with a new counselor. Several people thanked me today for "everything I've done for them". I HATE hearing that! I just redirect it and make them realize that they're responsible for every change in their lives...I'm just their sounding board, support, and guidance.
Well...I hope I haven't fucked anybody up too much. There's always the next two weeks, though!!! :)
Friday, March 05, 2004
I didn't cough up any more blood so I'm assuming I'm not dying. Sorry to disappoint you all.
The van, the van, the van is on fire!!!
Anyway...interesting happening at the clinic this afternoon. (Imagine...something exciting happening at the methadone clinic. That NEVER happens.)
So, there was this patient who's van had broken down on him this morning and he was out there all day trying to fix it. At 1:30 the clinic was officially closed and this patient was told that he either needed to remove himself from the property and leave his van until tomorrow or remove the van from the property.
He and some friends managed to push it to a point where it could coast down the hill in neutral. They went down the hill and pulled the van into the warehouse parking lot below us. I watched this all from the big picture window at the end of the hall and then went back to my office to do some work.
About 15 minutes later I heard one of the other counselors say, "A fire! A van is on fire!" I ran down the hallway to the window and looking down the hill I saw, to my amazement, the patient's van totally engulfed in flames!!! The vehicle's windows had been shattered by the heat. Orange and yellow flame was licking through and around every open space as thick black smoked cascaded skyward.
I stood for a moment in slack-jawed wonder, feeling like I had just stepped onto the set of a John Woo film. I thought, "How the hell does someone manage to roll his car down a fucking hill...and end up setting it on fire?"
Someone ran to call the fire department while the rest of the staff and I stood watching, giddily contemplating the chances of the van actually blowing up. Fortunately, our lust for disaster was never satisfied as the fire department shortly put the blaze out.
I swear, I will miss some things about CTC (when I finally do get the fuck out of there!). Like some of the staff (Patrick, Kevin, Sally, Cyndi, Nancy), the morning pow-wows in Kevin's office, and all of the crazy fucking shit that our patients do and get themselves into!!!
A glimmer of hope in the long, dark night
Good news! I have a job interview with Prestera Center for Mental Health on Monday! It's for a position as a counselor working in an outpatient setting with behavior disordered children, ranging from ages 4-18. The hours are 8am to 4pm (normal hours!!!) Monday through Friday. No Saturday work ever!!!! The only problem is that I know it will be less money than what I make at the clinic. (And I'm poor as hell as it is.) But that really doesn't matter. As long as I can still pay all of my bills, I'm there.
It's turned into a struggle to get out of the bed in the mornings because I'm so damned tired! And then it's a struggle to do anything else all day long...because I'm so tired! If I keep this up for much longer, I'm totally going to crack. I've already gone a little Office Space at work, pointing out in team and entire staff meetings when things are bullshit and useless wastes of time. My program director ordered me to call a patient a week or so ago. I stopped, looked at her, signed heavily and said, "God, I don't want to. I've got too much to do. But I guess I have to, right?" She just rewarded me with a confused and slightly wide-eyed stare.
I've got to get out of there, but I'm sure I'll miss it when I go. I'll miss Kevin, Patrick, Sally, and a few other co-workers. I'll miss a few of my patients, even...the ones who are trying to help themselves...and a few of the ones who aren't. :) I'll miss the tales of the shit-pissers, the Whizinator drug screen faking devices, the "my dog ate my methadone" stories from the patients, and the late doser freak-outs. But I won't miss the ambivalence and incompetence of management or the early hours.
But I haven't even had the interview yet! And if they ever find this website at Marshall, I'm sure they'll never hire me!!!! Yeah...I'm going to contact Marshall's help desk to have them remove this shit A.S.A.P. Cross your fingers for me!
The van, the van, the van is on fire!!!
Anyway...interesting happening at the clinic this afternoon. (Imagine...something exciting happening at the methadone clinic. That NEVER happens.)
So, there was this patient who's van had broken down on him this morning and he was out there all day trying to fix it. At 1:30 the clinic was officially closed and this patient was told that he either needed to remove himself from the property and leave his van until tomorrow or remove the van from the property.
He and some friends managed to push it to a point where it could coast down the hill in neutral. They went down the hill and pulled the van into the warehouse parking lot below us. I watched this all from the big picture window at the end of the hall and then went back to my office to do some work.
About 15 minutes later I heard one of the other counselors say, "A fire! A van is on fire!" I ran down the hallway to the window and looking down the hill I saw, to my amazement, the patient's van totally engulfed in flames!!! The vehicle's windows had been shattered by the heat. Orange and yellow flame was licking through and around every open space as thick black smoked cascaded skyward.
I stood for a moment in slack-jawed wonder, feeling like I had just stepped onto the set of a John Woo film. I thought, "How the hell does someone manage to roll his car down a fucking hill...and end up setting it on fire?"
Someone ran to call the fire department while the rest of the staff and I stood watching, giddily contemplating the chances of the van actually blowing up. Fortunately, our lust for disaster was never satisfied as the fire department shortly put the blaze out.
I swear, I will miss some things about CTC (when I finally do get the fuck out of there!). Like some of the staff (Patrick, Kevin, Sally, Cyndi, Nancy), the morning pow-wows in Kevin's office, and all of the crazy fucking shit that our patients do and get themselves into!!!
A glimmer of hope in the long, dark night
Good news! I have a job interview with Prestera Center for Mental Health on Monday! It's for a position as a counselor working in an outpatient setting with behavior disordered children, ranging from ages 4-18. The hours are 8am to 4pm (normal hours!!!) Monday through Friday. No Saturday work ever!!!! The only problem is that I know it will be less money than what I make at the clinic. (And I'm poor as hell as it is.) But that really doesn't matter. As long as I can still pay all of my bills, I'm there.
It's turned into a struggle to get out of the bed in the mornings because I'm so damned tired! And then it's a struggle to do anything else all day long...because I'm so tired! If I keep this up for much longer, I'm totally going to crack. I've already gone a little Office Space at work, pointing out in team and entire staff meetings when things are bullshit and useless wastes of time. My program director ordered me to call a patient a week or so ago. I stopped, looked at her, signed heavily and said, "God, I don't want to. I've got too much to do. But I guess I have to, right?" She just rewarded me with a confused and slightly wide-eyed stare.
I've got to get out of there, but I'm sure I'll miss it when I go. I'll miss Kevin, Patrick, Sally, and a few other co-workers. I'll miss a few of my patients, even...the ones who are trying to help themselves...and a few of the ones who aren't. :) I'll miss the tales of the shit-pissers, the Whizinator drug screen faking devices, the "my dog ate my methadone" stories from the patients, and the late doser freak-outs. But I won't miss the ambivalence and incompetence of management or the early hours.
But I haven't even had the interview yet! And if they ever find this website at Marshall, I'm sure they'll never hire me!!!! Yeah...I'm going to contact Marshall's help desk to have them remove this shit A.S.A.P. Cross your fingers for me!
Thursday, February 26, 2004
I feel really alone right now.
My depression has kicked into high gear and I find myself not wanting to do much of anything. I'm trying to stay focused. Thus far I've been able to work out every day...except for today. I decided just to come home and sleep a little today...because my heart hurts so bad. It will get better, I know. I have hope. I just keep waiting.
I burned my leg. I had my little lamp sitting on the bed and it toppled over and the shade fell off and (OUCH!!!) burnt a nasty place on my left inner thigh. If my thighs were skinnier, they wouldn't rub together when I walk, and it wouldn't hurt so bad. Working out probably hasn't helped it.
Steve made a plea for me this past weekend. He showed up outside my door at an ungodly hour and told me that he had grown up a lot and learned a lot and that he wanted me back. He said that he had been in a dark place, having a hard time when we dated...that I should have seen that and made allowances for that. He feels that I let go of our relationship too easily.
I told him that I grew tired of his wishy-washyness and that I am not psychic nor perfect and could not be held responsible for him having a hard time. He started ranting about not having a perfect life like me (that's so fucking laughable) and a perfect family, etc. That he couldn't help it that life had handed him shit.
I tried to explain to him that life hands us dirt (mediocrity) and seeds (hope). Then it gives us a nice slathering of shit and rain (our lows) and a nice bit of sunshine (our highs). If we're lucky we'll wind up with daisies or roses or something beautiful to call our own. But beware! It will die. And that's life.
But he didn't listen to me.
He called me last night very upset because the girl he's been infatuated with, Leigh, blew him off...again. He was ranting about how he always gets shit on and how life is so horrible. I referred him for counseling. He refuses to take responsibility for making his life better...he subconsciously thinks that life owes him something. But life doesn't owe us anything. We don't get anything we don't earn. Period.
He started ranting about how if he had a gun he wouldn't think twice about using it. I asked him if he was seriously suicidal...he ranted more about the gun. Then he said he wished he had money enough to buy drugs to overdose. I got pissed. I told him that there were cheaper ways of suicide...like slitting his wrists. He already owns a knife, after all. I asked him if he was suicidal. He mentioned the gun again. I told him I was calling 911 and hung up. He called me back 2 seconds later saying, "Don't! You'll make me look stupid if they come here and I'm not dying or dead!"
My depression has kicked into high gear and I find myself not wanting to do much of anything. I'm trying to stay focused. Thus far I've been able to work out every day...except for today. I decided just to come home and sleep a little today...because my heart hurts so bad. It will get better, I know. I have hope. I just keep waiting.
I burned my leg. I had my little lamp sitting on the bed and it toppled over and the shade fell off and (OUCH!!!) burnt a nasty place on my left inner thigh. If my thighs were skinnier, they wouldn't rub together when I walk, and it wouldn't hurt so bad. Working out probably hasn't helped it.
Steve made a plea for me this past weekend. He showed up outside my door at an ungodly hour and told me that he had grown up a lot and learned a lot and that he wanted me back. He said that he had been in a dark place, having a hard time when we dated...that I should have seen that and made allowances for that. He feels that I let go of our relationship too easily.
I told him that I grew tired of his wishy-washyness and that I am not psychic nor perfect and could not be held responsible for him having a hard time. He started ranting about not having a perfect life like me (that's so fucking laughable) and a perfect family, etc. That he couldn't help it that life had handed him shit.
I tried to explain to him that life hands us dirt (mediocrity) and seeds (hope). Then it gives us a nice slathering of shit and rain (our lows) and a nice bit of sunshine (our highs). If we're lucky we'll wind up with daisies or roses or something beautiful to call our own. But beware! It will die. And that's life.
But he didn't listen to me.
He called me last night very upset because the girl he's been infatuated with, Leigh, blew him off...again. He was ranting about how he always gets shit on and how life is so horrible. I referred him for counseling. He refuses to take responsibility for making his life better...he subconsciously thinks that life owes him something. But life doesn't owe us anything. We don't get anything we don't earn. Period.
He started ranting about how if he had a gun he wouldn't think twice about using it. I asked him if he was seriously suicidal...he ranted more about the gun. Then he said he wished he had money enough to buy drugs to overdose. I got pissed. I told him that there were cheaper ways of suicide...like slitting his wrists. He already owns a knife, after all. I asked him if he was suicidal. He mentioned the gun again. I told him I was calling 911 and hung up. He called me back 2 seconds later saying, "Don't! You'll make me look stupid if they come here and I'm not dying or dead!"
Friday, February 20, 2004
I'm here. I don't know why...but I am.
I went to Kroger just a few minutes ago to get some cereal and while stopped at a traffic light on the drive back, I noticed the back porch light of one of those run down office buildings in St. Albans zap out suddenly.
I don't know why I noticed it...it just caught my eye. And so I watched it...waiting for it to come back on...and it did. It flickered for a moment, fighting to stay lit, and then it was dark again. And then it flickered once more, wavered, and then died again. Over and over.
Life's kinda like that, isn't it?
We're alive for a moment at a time, burning as hard and fast and bright as we can in that moment, until we meet with darkness, with monotony and mediocrity.
Some people might think that darkness in this little simile should be associated with the anguish and pain we experience in our lives...but I don't think so. For in moments of anguish aren't we just as alive as in moments of triumph and pleasure? Isn't our light burning as fierce when we cry as when we laugh? I think it is.
And it is this philosophy that allows me to treasure my lows as well as my highs...to keep me pushing forward for whatever else may come. Cause when the light stops flickering, it's over.
I'm not ready for it to be over. Not yet.
I went to Kroger just a few minutes ago to get some cereal and while stopped at a traffic light on the drive back, I noticed the back porch light of one of those run down office buildings in St. Albans zap out suddenly.
I don't know why I noticed it...it just caught my eye. And so I watched it...waiting for it to come back on...and it did. It flickered for a moment, fighting to stay lit, and then it was dark again. And then it flickered once more, wavered, and then died again. Over and over.
Life's kinda like that, isn't it?
We're alive for a moment at a time, burning as hard and fast and bright as we can in that moment, until we meet with darkness, with monotony and mediocrity.
Some people might think that darkness in this little simile should be associated with the anguish and pain we experience in our lives...but I don't think so. For in moments of anguish aren't we just as alive as in moments of triumph and pleasure? Isn't our light burning as fierce when we cry as when we laugh? I think it is.
And it is this philosophy that allows me to treasure my lows as well as my highs...to keep me pushing forward for whatever else may come. Cause when the light stops flickering, it's over.
I'm not ready for it to be over. Not yet.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
When Shawn doesn't bathe, his head feels greasy...like he's rubbed hamburger grease all over his head. It gets fuzzy too. Like a peach gone wrong. PEACHES GONE WRONG!!!!! THESE ARE NO ORDINARY PEACHES!!! THEY FEEL LIKE SHAWN'S HEAD! There's some extreme marketing for you.
My stomach is burning. It could be the whalebone poppers I got from Arby's. That last sentence was supposed to have the word "jalapeno" instead of "whalebone". I had misspelled "jalapeno" and it gave me the word "whalebone" as a possible replacement. I liked the idea of whalebone poppers...so there ya go.
We watched American Splendor. Chris and Burns fell asleep. I was bored but awake. It's an okay movie...but don't expect excitement. It's just a look at a very depressive ordinary guy. He kinda reminded me of Shawn.
My cha cha is burning. It must be the vaginal infection that I got from fucking that donkey last week. Who know donkey cock could be so dirty?
My breathing feels weird. I don't really feel congested...just something is not right with it. I take a deep breath and it feels...dirty. Weird.
Chris grew a beard. He looks even more crazy now than normal. And he also looks slightly Amish. Great...an Amish Buddhist Mormon Psychopath. Just the kind of person I need as a friend. But he isn't actually a friend now that I think about it. Just some guy that I sometimes visit. Does that make him my friend? I don't know.
Shawn or "Duckie", as one of my friends wants me to start calling him, is talking into Burns' cell phone like it's a communication device thingie from Star Trek. He's doing a bad Shatner impression. I know he's my friend because he berates me so often.
Now he and Burns are frolicking on Chris' bed and having a conversation only using song titles. I need to go home.
My stomach is burning. It could be the whalebone poppers I got from Arby's. That last sentence was supposed to have the word "jalapeno" instead of "whalebone". I had misspelled "jalapeno" and it gave me the word "whalebone" as a possible replacement. I liked the idea of whalebone poppers...so there ya go.
We watched American Splendor. Chris and Burns fell asleep. I was bored but awake. It's an okay movie...but don't expect excitement. It's just a look at a very depressive ordinary guy. He kinda reminded me of Shawn.
My cha cha is burning. It must be the vaginal infection that I got from fucking that donkey last week. Who know donkey cock could be so dirty?
My breathing feels weird. I don't really feel congested...just something is not right with it. I take a deep breath and it feels...dirty. Weird.
Chris grew a beard. He looks even more crazy now than normal. And he also looks slightly Amish. Great...an Amish Buddhist Mormon Psychopath. Just the kind of person I need as a friend. But he isn't actually a friend now that I think about it. Just some guy that I sometimes visit. Does that make him my friend? I don't know.
Shawn or "Duckie", as one of my friends wants me to start calling him, is talking into Burns' cell phone like it's a communication device thingie from Star Trek. He's doing a bad Shatner impression. I know he's my friend because he berates me so often.
Now he and Burns are frolicking on Chris' bed and having a conversation only using song titles. I need to go home.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
A lot of nothing has happened since I last blogged.
I'm still working at CTC. I still hate my job. I'm still tired most of the time. I'm still a bit depressed. Interestingly, the depression seems to have changed.
Instead of an uncompromising despair, I find something steely and determined behind my bleak mood. I recognize it. I've been here before. It's my "existing mode". Ben calls it "survival mode". I'm maintaining what sanity I have while trying to incrementally improve my position in life. I'm searching for and applying for jobs. I've started a diet (again) and I've started working out (again).
I know the rules of Depression. I am familiar with the deadly spiraling pattern of inactivity that keeps her company. And this knowledge gives me power to resist. My heart is heavy...but I'm trying to detach myself from that heaviness and do the things that I need to do to change my psychological health for the better.
I saw Pat this past weekend. We ate at River's Edge and mocked the half-assed attempt of the owners to decorate the restaurant in a South Western theme. We also mocked Pat's potato boat, which turned out to be mashed potatoes covered with sour cream and cheese. After our fine dining experience, we watched American History X over at Burnsy's. Fantastic movie!
I've started reading The First Chronicles of Thomas Covenant recently. So far I'm enjoying it. It's not your typical fantasy novel in which the protagonist finds himself a hero and flourishes. No. Covenant rejects power at every turn. In fact, he rejects everything about the world he finds himself in. Very interesting.
I've been trying to entertain myself lately by catching up on movie watching. I’ve successfully watched Slingblade, Beautiful Girls, and Identity in the last month. I've got Pointe Break, The Ref, 25th Hour, Wall Street, and Deliverance on my list for February. Not exactly blockbusters, I know. I composed my list from friend's suggestions. I figured, what the hell, I haven't seen any of them. Why the fuck not? What else have I got better to do? It's not like I'm dating at the moment or anything.
Which reminds me...I haven't had sex in two whole months. And counting. So fuck you Chris Jarrett and Shawn Berry for doubting my willpower!!! Fuck you right in your respective ears!!!
I'm still working at CTC. I still hate my job. I'm still tired most of the time. I'm still a bit depressed. Interestingly, the depression seems to have changed.
Instead of an uncompromising despair, I find something steely and determined behind my bleak mood. I recognize it. I've been here before. It's my "existing mode". Ben calls it "survival mode". I'm maintaining what sanity I have while trying to incrementally improve my position in life. I'm searching for and applying for jobs. I've started a diet (again) and I've started working out (again).
I know the rules of Depression. I am familiar with the deadly spiraling pattern of inactivity that keeps her company. And this knowledge gives me power to resist. My heart is heavy...but I'm trying to detach myself from that heaviness and do the things that I need to do to change my psychological health for the better.
I saw Pat this past weekend. We ate at River's Edge and mocked the half-assed attempt of the owners to decorate the restaurant in a South Western theme. We also mocked Pat's potato boat, which turned out to be mashed potatoes covered with sour cream and cheese. After our fine dining experience, we watched American History X over at Burnsy's. Fantastic movie!
I've started reading The First Chronicles of Thomas Covenant recently. So far I'm enjoying it. It's not your typical fantasy novel in which the protagonist finds himself a hero and flourishes. No. Covenant rejects power at every turn. In fact, he rejects everything about the world he finds himself in. Very interesting.
I've been trying to entertain myself lately by catching up on movie watching. I’ve successfully watched Slingblade, Beautiful Girls, and Identity in the last month. I've got Pointe Break, The Ref, 25th Hour, Wall Street, and Deliverance on my list for February. Not exactly blockbusters, I know. I composed my list from friend's suggestions. I figured, what the hell, I haven't seen any of them. Why the fuck not? What else have I got better to do? It's not like I'm dating at the moment or anything.
Which reminds me...I haven't had sex in two whole months. And counting. So fuck you Chris Jarrett and Shawn Berry for doubting my willpower!!! Fuck you right in your respective ears!!!
Saturday, January 17, 2004
Work is stressful, as usual. By the grace of god and the power of my large intestine and liver, I successfully managed to evade firing this week. They were reviewing my charts, but didn't really say anything negative to me. My supervisor sat in on a few of my sessions, but all she could say was, "Excellent session. You seem to know your patients well and you effectively address their needs." I still don't know how secure my job is...I guess I feel somewhat better about it...but I still think that I want out. I applied this Wednesday for a Counselor position at Pressley Ridge schools for "behavior-disordered" children. We'll see.
In other news, Steve has finally accepted that we're not getting back together. I spoke with him about it a couple of weekends ago and told him that I wanted him to start seeing other people. He took some chick named Leigh out this past weekend and I'm glad for him. He hasn't drank in about two weeks and I'm really proud of him. I want to continue to be his friend...because he really honestly doesn't have any other friends that actually care about his well being. I truly hope he gets his shit together. I also truly hope he pays me back the $114 he still owes me from our Cedar Point trip. *sigh* When will I ever learn not to trust men when they say that they'll pay me back?
I had the pleasure of babysitting my godchildren for the first time alone on Thursday night. Matt was in Parkersburg working and Cyndi was going to play volleyball with her church. Kiki watched cartoons while I tried to get Anthony to lay down. He kept fighting off sleep, talking to himself softly while I was rocking him. I laid him down for a bit to see if he would go on his own and went in to check on Kiki. She had conked out on the couch, so I scooped her up and tucked her in her bed. I went back to Anthony's room to find him sitting up in hed bed playing with his stuffed animals. I filled his sippy cup, picked him up and rocked him for an hour an a half. He just cuddled me and talked to himself, "goo la la door da da ya ya. Uh-oh!" It got a bit chilly so I covered us both with a blanket and continued to rock him in his dimly lit room decorated with Winnie the Pooh and Tigger too. Eventually I nodded off and when I woke I looked down to see him snoring away and drooling all over my sweater. Adorable. :) I laid him down and that was that.
I hung out with my parents and my brother and his family today. Megan was a cutie-pie, as usual. It really amazed me how much she understands now. I really think she gets smarter and smarter every time I see her. She's spoiled, and bossy, and extremely strong-willed, but I love her anyway. Today she threw a little tantrum because she didn't want to leave the mall and Cheryl asked mom to take her hat off of her head. Just to spite Cheryl, Megan pulled it down hard on her head and held on to it while continuing to wail. It was pretty funny. :) We watched Finding Nemo for about the 15th time again today. Every now and then she would poke me on the arm and make little comments to me: "The blue fish is Nemo's daddy's fwiend, Aunt Chis. Nemo is scared! Nemo has a wittle fin...he was born like 'dat! The sharks won't eat 'dem, don't worry!" She was so cute!
If I keep surrounding myself with children, this desire to be a mother bull-shit is going to get worse. Mother fucking shit!
In other news, Steve has finally accepted that we're not getting back together. I spoke with him about it a couple of weekends ago and told him that I wanted him to start seeing other people. He took some chick named Leigh out this past weekend and I'm glad for him. He hasn't drank in about two weeks and I'm really proud of him. I want to continue to be his friend...because he really honestly doesn't have any other friends that actually care about his well being. I truly hope he gets his shit together. I also truly hope he pays me back the $114 he still owes me from our Cedar Point trip. *sigh* When will I ever learn not to trust men when they say that they'll pay me back?
I had the pleasure of babysitting my godchildren for the first time alone on Thursday night. Matt was in Parkersburg working and Cyndi was going to play volleyball with her church. Kiki watched cartoons while I tried to get Anthony to lay down. He kept fighting off sleep, talking to himself softly while I was rocking him. I laid him down for a bit to see if he would go on his own and went in to check on Kiki. She had conked out on the couch, so I scooped her up and tucked her in her bed. I went back to Anthony's room to find him sitting up in hed bed playing with his stuffed animals. I filled his sippy cup, picked him up and rocked him for an hour an a half. He just cuddled me and talked to himself, "goo la la door da da ya ya. Uh-oh!" It got a bit chilly so I covered us both with a blanket and continued to rock him in his dimly lit room decorated with Winnie the Pooh and Tigger too. Eventually I nodded off and when I woke I looked down to see him snoring away and drooling all over my sweater. Adorable. :) I laid him down and that was that.
I hung out with my parents and my brother and his family today. Megan was a cutie-pie, as usual. It really amazed me how much she understands now. I really think she gets smarter and smarter every time I see her. She's spoiled, and bossy, and extremely strong-willed, but I love her anyway. Today she threw a little tantrum because she didn't want to leave the mall and Cheryl asked mom to take her hat off of her head. Just to spite Cheryl, Megan pulled it down hard on her head and held on to it while continuing to wail. It was pretty funny. :) We watched Finding Nemo for about the 15th time again today. Every now and then she would poke me on the arm and make little comments to me: "The blue fish is Nemo's daddy's fwiend, Aunt Chis. Nemo is scared! Nemo has a wittle fin...he was born like 'dat! The sharks won't eat 'dem, don't worry!" She was so cute!
If I keep surrounding myself with children, this desire to be a mother bull-shit is going to get worse. Mother fucking shit!
Sunday, January 11, 2004
Rough N' Rowdy Rednecks
Friday evening Kelly called and invited me to the Rough N' Rowdy Brawl, an amateur boxing contest in which the areas finest hilljacks and rednecks beat the hell out of each other in hopes of winning the grand prize of $5000. Having never been to an event of this nature and having nothing better to do, I agreed to go and enjoy a night of violence, beer drinking, and mullet counting with my friend.
I lost count of the mullets I saw that night...and I think I counted some of them twice because of the Miller Lite I was sucking down like water. Kelly and I were surrounded by a sea of people (mostly males) who were jeering at the fighters in the ring, yelling, standing up and shaking their fists, and bursting out into fits of laughter. Oh yes. I was there...I had finally made it to redneck heaven.
The fights that night were many, in the ring and in the stands. As I should have guessed, the majority of the competitors were from Boone County, WV, home of countless dumbass hilljacks, including the most famous of these Jesco White, the Dancing Outlaw. My friend Kelly is also from Boone County, and though she's not a dumbass, she is quite the country girl.
Anyway, whenever a new boxer stepped into the ring, the announcer would state that boxer's name and home county. Every time he intoduced anyone from Boone County, Kelly would echo him with a raucous shout of "Boone County!" After my second beer, I too joined my voice to hers to cheer on those representing that most infamous southern county of West Virginia. I proudly bore that redneck mantle for a few hours. Damn, it was fun! :)
The most memorable fight that night was a fight between two women, one weighing in at 200 lbs and the other at 175 lbs. It seemed that the larger of the two was talking a little smack to the smaller one before the fight started...the smaller woman just shook her head from side to side...and then the bell rang and fists flew. The big woman didn't even have a chance to get a punch in before the littler one started repeatedly punching her in the face. Bam, bam, bam! And with every punch the big gal's head snapped back and she staggered, eventually falling on her big fat ass. It was fucking hilarious!
Aside from the boxing competition there was also a ring girl competition. There were about 8 different girls, each bikini clad, who would alternate between walking around the ring and shaking their asses as the crowd in between rounds. From a distance they all seemed attractive enough, and none were too plump, however there were a few that were simply too skinny to be attractive ring girls. Think about it. The majority of the audience is sitting far away, so a ring girl needs to have some visible assests (such as large breasts and a big ass) so that those in the cheap seats can get their thrill as well. :) What I found a little ridiculous about the ring girl thing was the fact that the announcer stated the likes and dislikes of each girl as she pranced around the ring holding her sign high over her head. Skittles liked the color purple and also enjoyed camping and hiking. Skittles, taste the rainbow.
Captain Random Strikes Again: The Case of the Missing Cell Phone or A Drunk, Two Girls, and a Cell Phone
After finishing my third beer, I decided I wanted another one and a pretzel, so I stumbled out to the concession area. Whle walking and counting my money, I literally ran straight into my former co-worker, Eric, also known as Captain Random. From the moment he opened his mouth, even having a slight buzz, I realized that he was totally out of his mind drunk. He was like: "Hey! What's up Chris G.! What the fuck ar' you doin' here? Hey everybody! Look it's Tits G.! Hey Titsy! Titser! Tits G.!" I told him that I was there with Kelly and he got drunkenly excited and wanted me to take him back with me to our seats so he could say hello.
He walked with me toward the section and eventually grabbed hold of my arm to steady himself and keep from running into people. He greeted Kelly, (Hey! What's up Kellster?) we sat down, and then some sort of inebriated craze came over him. He alternated between yelling like a maniac at the fighters in the ring (Beat the fuck out of him! Rip his fucking head off!), standing up and shaking his fist at the ring, and turning to me and Kelly, punching us on the arm and saying, "Did you see that shit? Holy shit!!" Kelly and I kept making him sit down and couldn't help but laugh our asses off at him. He finally noticed that were were laughing at him (What the fuck? You making fun of me? You want a piece of me, bitches?) and then began to taunt us. He looked at Kelly and said, "I hate you, Kelly! I'm gonna knock your tits off!" and then began mock punching her in the tits. I was giggling hysterically and he turned to me and said, "Shut up Tits G.! You're next! I'm gonna' black both your eyes with your own tits!" and began to mock uppercut my tits.
About that time another guy from work, Joey, spotted us and stopped to say hi. I somehow managed to greet him while simultaneously laughing and drooling all over myself. Eric gave him a big bear hug and kissed him on the temple. The look of amused revulsion on Joey's face was priceless. I can't wait to see him at work tomorrow. In spite of Eric's kiss, he invited us to go play pool at the Athletic Club and we agreed to meet him there. Eric decided that he needed to go back and get his jacket and join up with his friends. I helped him find the section he had been sitting in and his jacket, however his friends were nowhere in sight. He called them and they told him they left, thinking that he was walking home as he lives close to the Civic Center on the West side. There was no way he was in any state to walk alone at night in the freezing cold on the West side of Charleston, so Kelly and I agreed that we were driving him home.
We all walked outside and the first thing Eric did was lean over the steps and puke. Well...it wasn't really puking as much as dribbling beer out of his mouth and nose. He started leaning forward a bit more and Kelly and I rushed up and grabbed him to keep him from falling head first down the Civic Center steps and possibly breaking neck. A security guard came up to me and suggested that we get him out of there before the cops saw him, as he would promptly be taken to the drunk tank for the night. We started walking down the steps, Kelly on one side and me on the other. He kept rambling on, one moment saying how he really loved us and we were such cool chicks and the next saying that he hated us and wanted to punch our tits off until we stopped laughing at him. He stopped halfway down the steps, scooped us some snow in both hands, and threw it in his face. He had little bits of snow all over his hair, eyebrows and lashes, and beard. A few seconds later he exclaimed, sounding a little surprised, "Oh my god! It's fucking freezing out here!" We made it down the steps, across the street, through the mall, and to Sears parking lot somehow. Kelly and I didn't know whether to scream at him or laugh...we mostly just laughed and talked to him like someone would a misbehaving child or mentally challenged individual: "Come on Eric. This way. No! No! Don't do that! No! Don't sit down! Keep walking, that's right. No! Here, take my arm. There ya go. Watch out! Eric, stop! Eric, no. Come on, walk forward. Like this. That's right, very good. No! No! Eric!"
Finally we got him to the car. Just after sitting down, Eric's cell phone rang and he hopped out to answer the call in private. He had that drunken paranoia thing going on and didn't want us to listen to his phone conversation. He got back in the car and he said that he wanted to go to the Athletic Club too. We didn't think it was such a good idea and didn't really feel very keen on babysitting him for the rest of the night, but he was determined to go. He said he would call his wife to let her know and it was then that he realized that his phone was missing. I had him check under his seat and when it wasn't found we began looking outside in the snowy parking lot where he had been walking around.
I broke out the flash lights and began searching through the snow, all the while the urge to urinate becoming stronger and stronger. Eric was very stressed and kept repeating, "Oh my god! My phone! My phone! I've gotta find my phone!" A guy came and helped us look for it and even let Eric use his phone to call it, but we found nothing. After thanking the kind stranger and handing him back his phone, Captain Random stumbled over to a double parking meter, leaned on it hard and began dribbling beer all over the snow and his shoes. The meter leaned under his weight and I was sure that they were both going to fall and land in the newly puke-yellowed snow. After about an hour of searching to no avail with my bladder about to explode, I called the cell phone lost and commanded Eric to get in the car. We got in and started to drive away, but he began raving wildly about how he had to find his phone or his wife would kill him. I agreed to look one more time and we got out and searched for about 10 more minutes. Very tired, frustrated, with a painful desire to urinate all over myself, I made my intoxicated friend admit that the phone was most likely lost. We got in the car and started driving toward his home. We drove by a closed gas station and he screamed out for me to stop the car, he had to make a phone call. He wouldn't shut up, so I pulled over and he called his wife. After confessing his sin of drinking too much, losing his original ride home, and losing his phone, he came back and told us that she was on her way to pick him up. "Oh my god! She's so pissed right now! Tits G., what the fuck am I gonna do?"
She pulled up and was visibly angry, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes glaring at us all hard. She ordered him in the car and I explained how we stumbled upon him, how his friends left him, and lastly the cell phone losing fiasco. As I talked, I could see her anger slowly lessen. We then said goodnight and I began my quest for a restroom at half past midnight. I finally ended up going and peeing at the Ramada. God, what a relief that was! While stopped at the Ramada, I searched under the passenger seat with one of the flashlights to make sure Eric hadn't missed anything. Sure enough, there was the missing cell phone in search of which I had frozen my ass off and nearly pissed myself.
I called Eric and told him the good news on Saturday and took the cell phone too him later that evening. And so ended my adventure with the drunken Captain Random. And they all lived happily, happily ever after.
Friday evening Kelly called and invited me to the Rough N' Rowdy Brawl, an amateur boxing contest in which the areas finest hilljacks and rednecks beat the hell out of each other in hopes of winning the grand prize of $5000. Having never been to an event of this nature and having nothing better to do, I agreed to go and enjoy a night of violence, beer drinking, and mullet counting with my friend.
I lost count of the mullets I saw that night...and I think I counted some of them twice because of the Miller Lite I was sucking down like water. Kelly and I were surrounded by a sea of people (mostly males) who were jeering at the fighters in the ring, yelling, standing up and shaking their fists, and bursting out into fits of laughter. Oh yes. I was there...I had finally made it to redneck heaven.
The fights that night were many, in the ring and in the stands. As I should have guessed, the majority of the competitors were from Boone County, WV, home of countless dumbass hilljacks, including the most famous of these Jesco White, the Dancing Outlaw. My friend Kelly is also from Boone County, and though she's not a dumbass, she is quite the country girl.
Anyway, whenever a new boxer stepped into the ring, the announcer would state that boxer's name and home county. Every time he intoduced anyone from Boone County, Kelly would echo him with a raucous shout of "Boone County!" After my second beer, I too joined my voice to hers to cheer on those representing that most infamous southern county of West Virginia. I proudly bore that redneck mantle for a few hours. Damn, it was fun! :)
The most memorable fight that night was a fight between two women, one weighing in at 200 lbs and the other at 175 lbs. It seemed that the larger of the two was talking a little smack to the smaller one before the fight started...the smaller woman just shook her head from side to side...and then the bell rang and fists flew. The big woman didn't even have a chance to get a punch in before the littler one started repeatedly punching her in the face. Bam, bam, bam! And with every punch the big gal's head snapped back and she staggered, eventually falling on her big fat ass. It was fucking hilarious!
Aside from the boxing competition there was also a ring girl competition. There were about 8 different girls, each bikini clad, who would alternate between walking around the ring and shaking their asses as the crowd in between rounds. From a distance they all seemed attractive enough, and none were too plump, however there were a few that were simply too skinny to be attractive ring girls. Think about it. The majority of the audience is sitting far away, so a ring girl needs to have some visible assests (such as large breasts and a big ass) so that those in the cheap seats can get their thrill as well. :) What I found a little ridiculous about the ring girl thing was the fact that the announcer stated the likes and dislikes of each girl as she pranced around the ring holding her sign high over her head. Skittles liked the color purple and also enjoyed camping and hiking. Skittles, taste the rainbow.
Captain Random Strikes Again: The Case of the Missing Cell Phone or A Drunk, Two Girls, and a Cell Phone
After finishing my third beer, I decided I wanted another one and a pretzel, so I stumbled out to the concession area. Whle walking and counting my money, I literally ran straight into my former co-worker, Eric, also known as Captain Random. From the moment he opened his mouth, even having a slight buzz, I realized that he was totally out of his mind drunk. He was like: "Hey! What's up Chris G.! What the fuck ar' you doin' here? Hey everybody! Look it's Tits G.! Hey Titsy! Titser! Tits G.!" I told him that I was there with Kelly and he got drunkenly excited and wanted me to take him back with me to our seats so he could say hello.
He walked with me toward the section and eventually grabbed hold of my arm to steady himself and keep from running into people. He greeted Kelly, (Hey! What's up Kellster?) we sat down, and then some sort of inebriated craze came over him. He alternated between yelling like a maniac at the fighters in the ring (Beat the fuck out of him! Rip his fucking head off!), standing up and shaking his fist at the ring, and turning to me and Kelly, punching us on the arm and saying, "Did you see that shit? Holy shit!!" Kelly and I kept making him sit down and couldn't help but laugh our asses off at him. He finally noticed that were were laughing at him (What the fuck? You making fun of me? You want a piece of me, bitches?) and then began to taunt us. He looked at Kelly and said, "I hate you, Kelly! I'm gonna knock your tits off!" and then began mock punching her in the tits. I was giggling hysterically and he turned to me and said, "Shut up Tits G.! You're next! I'm gonna' black both your eyes with your own tits!" and began to mock uppercut my tits.
About that time another guy from work, Joey, spotted us and stopped to say hi. I somehow managed to greet him while simultaneously laughing and drooling all over myself. Eric gave him a big bear hug and kissed him on the temple. The look of amused revulsion on Joey's face was priceless. I can't wait to see him at work tomorrow. In spite of Eric's kiss, he invited us to go play pool at the Athletic Club and we agreed to meet him there. Eric decided that he needed to go back and get his jacket and join up with his friends. I helped him find the section he had been sitting in and his jacket, however his friends were nowhere in sight. He called them and they told him they left, thinking that he was walking home as he lives close to the Civic Center on the West side. There was no way he was in any state to walk alone at night in the freezing cold on the West side of Charleston, so Kelly and I agreed that we were driving him home.
We all walked outside and the first thing Eric did was lean over the steps and puke. Well...it wasn't really puking as much as dribbling beer out of his mouth and nose. He started leaning forward a bit more and Kelly and I rushed up and grabbed him to keep him from falling head first down the Civic Center steps and possibly breaking neck. A security guard came up to me and suggested that we get him out of there before the cops saw him, as he would promptly be taken to the drunk tank for the night. We started walking down the steps, Kelly on one side and me on the other. He kept rambling on, one moment saying how he really loved us and we were such cool chicks and the next saying that he hated us and wanted to punch our tits off until we stopped laughing at him. He stopped halfway down the steps, scooped us some snow in both hands, and threw it in his face. He had little bits of snow all over his hair, eyebrows and lashes, and beard. A few seconds later he exclaimed, sounding a little surprised, "Oh my god! It's fucking freezing out here!" We made it down the steps, across the street, through the mall, and to Sears parking lot somehow. Kelly and I didn't know whether to scream at him or laugh...we mostly just laughed and talked to him like someone would a misbehaving child or mentally challenged individual: "Come on Eric. This way. No! No! Don't do that! No! Don't sit down! Keep walking, that's right. No! Here, take my arm. There ya go. Watch out! Eric, stop! Eric, no. Come on, walk forward. Like this. That's right, very good. No! No! Eric!"
Finally we got him to the car. Just after sitting down, Eric's cell phone rang and he hopped out to answer the call in private. He had that drunken paranoia thing going on and didn't want us to listen to his phone conversation. He got back in the car and he said that he wanted to go to the Athletic Club too. We didn't think it was such a good idea and didn't really feel very keen on babysitting him for the rest of the night, but he was determined to go. He said he would call his wife to let her know and it was then that he realized that his phone was missing. I had him check under his seat and when it wasn't found we began looking outside in the snowy parking lot where he had been walking around.
I broke out the flash lights and began searching through the snow, all the while the urge to urinate becoming stronger and stronger. Eric was very stressed and kept repeating, "Oh my god! My phone! My phone! I've gotta find my phone!" A guy came and helped us look for it and even let Eric use his phone to call it, but we found nothing. After thanking the kind stranger and handing him back his phone, Captain Random stumbled over to a double parking meter, leaned on it hard and began dribbling beer all over the snow and his shoes. The meter leaned under his weight and I was sure that they were both going to fall and land in the newly puke-yellowed snow. After about an hour of searching to no avail with my bladder about to explode, I called the cell phone lost and commanded Eric to get in the car. We got in and started to drive away, but he began raving wildly about how he had to find his phone or his wife would kill him. I agreed to look one more time and we got out and searched for about 10 more minutes. Very tired, frustrated, with a painful desire to urinate all over myself, I made my intoxicated friend admit that the phone was most likely lost. We got in the car and started driving toward his home. We drove by a closed gas station and he screamed out for me to stop the car, he had to make a phone call. He wouldn't shut up, so I pulled over and he called his wife. After confessing his sin of drinking too much, losing his original ride home, and losing his phone, he came back and told us that she was on her way to pick him up. "Oh my god! She's so pissed right now! Tits G., what the fuck am I gonna do?"
She pulled up and was visibly angry, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes glaring at us all hard. She ordered him in the car and I explained how we stumbled upon him, how his friends left him, and lastly the cell phone losing fiasco. As I talked, I could see her anger slowly lessen. We then said goodnight and I began my quest for a restroom at half past midnight. I finally ended up going and peeing at the Ramada. God, what a relief that was! While stopped at the Ramada, I searched under the passenger seat with one of the flashlights to make sure Eric hadn't missed anything. Sure enough, there was the missing cell phone in search of which I had frozen my ass off and nearly pissed myself.
I called Eric and told him the good news on Saturday and took the cell phone too him later that evening. And so ended my adventure with the drunken Captain Random. And they all lived happily, happily ever after.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
The beginning of this new year finds me a bit melancholy...yup, same old, same old. :)
I haven't written in a bit so here's a quick synopsis:
The long awaited sequel to LOTR: Episode II - Frodo Strikes Back
All of my friends and I went to see LOTR: Return of the King and it was excellent! I was so captivated while watching it that I didn't even notice that I was sitting in the theater for 4 hours!
By the way, has anyone ever noticed any similarity in the title of this third LOTR movie and the third of the original Star Wars movies, Star Wars: Return of the Jedi? Hmmm...very interesting.
Anyway, since this was the more emotionally charged of the three movies, there was alot of crying. On screen and off. I think I burst into tears at least 8 times...likely more. :) Ben said I reminded him of the hobbits, crying all over the place like that. Then we agreed that I'm too big and non-hairy for me to be a hobbit...so we decided that I'm the Anti-hobbit! :) I plan on seeing it again soon, so I'll rave about what parts I like the best and all after that viewing.
Christmas
Christmas was wonderful as always. My brother and dad had a bit of a tiff the week or so before and it looked like we were going to be doing Christmas Eve at my parent's house and then doing Christmas day with my brother. They both can be such damned stubborn jackasses sometimes! Anyway it was resolved and we all spent it together at my parent's home per Garris family tradition. Ben also stayed with us. It was nice to spend time with him. I especially enjoyed singing christmas carols on the drive to Beckley! And he was the giver of the most thoughtful of all Christmas presents: guitar lessons! I cried, a little. Thank you, Ben! :)
This Christmas was made even more enjoyable by my niece. She's 2 and 1/2 and is just now learning about Santa Claus. It was really cute watching her throw reindeer food (bird seed and glitter) out for the reindeer so that they would have something to eat while Santa was busy inside. She kept saying, "I wanna feed the weindeer!"
The next morning she was so cute opening her gifts. She'd open one and forget about everything else and just want to play with that one gift. She was giving orders for other people to open presents too because she didn't want anyone to feel left out. "Open you pwesent, Aunt Chis!" It was really adorable and made me feel so good about life...and so happy for her and her innocent joy. :) She makes me excited to know that I will be a mother in the future!
New Years Eve
I had a little gathering at my place with Chris, Shawn, Sean, Ken, Leslie, Scott, & Kelly Ballard in attendance. We drank a little, joked, toasted the new year with some top of the line champagne *wink, wink*, and then later played cards. Chris only had a glass of wine and a bit of the nasty champagne to drink that night and I'm very proud of him. :) I drank enough to make me sleepy...which isn't much. Chris' sister, Amy, rolled by with a friend and told us a very entertaining story about how she had gotten into a drunken fight the night before with some jealous chick outside of The Number Eight in downtown Charleston. Apparently the girl was dating Amy's ex and wanted revenge for something. Poor Amy! May the boot marks on her face heal with no scarring!
The next day "the gang" all went to see Paycheck starring Ben and Uma. Don't see it! It was pure unadulterated shite!
The following evening Shawn, Chris, Sean, and I went to Applebee's, spent some time with Roger B., and then rented and watched...no...wait...slept through The Order starring Heith Ledger. From what I could tell when I took a break from drooling on Shawn's shoulder as he was drooling on Chris, it was a lame movie. Don't see it either. Shawn and Chris left on Saturday after we all went to Bennigan's in celebration of Shawn's 27th birthday. Happy Birthday, you cocked jackal, you!
I parted from them at the mall and went to Cyndi and Matt's adoption party that their church threw for them since they're adopting Kiki and Anthony. I'm the godmother so I went and did godmotherish things, like writing down the names of all the people who sent gifts, mocking the parents, sucking helium from the balloons and making a general ass of myself for the entertainment of others, and playing with the children. Little Anthony is 1 and 1/2 and he's a non-stop playing machine, man. He'll throw ball till he falls asleep standing! Eventually he wore himself out and fell asleep while I was holding him. God, he was so cute!
After the shower, I helped the new parents pack up their gifts and kids and transport them home. I hung out all evening and entertained the new little McClures so that the big McClures could sort through and put things away. I fed Anthony Cherrios while reading Kiki stories from her Winnie the Pooh book. Very cute kids. Very smart.
Here and Now
So after such a lovely holiday why would anyone be feeling melancholy? Well at work I'm under an attack of sorts. Because I was sent to Parkersburg I fell behind at work and my Director reviewed my charts. Now I'm faced with a write up if everything isn't corrected in all 53 charts by Friday. So I'm definately getting written up, because try as I might, I've not been able to see all of my patients and update all of their files. I have no will to do it. I can't concentrate because I'm so upset and pissed at management and the whole situation! Who knows at that place? Maybe they'll fucking fire me!
So my job sucks. I've been missing my friends a little since they've been gone. I'm pissed off that I'm fat. And spending all of this time with my niece and godchildren has made that thing in me that wants to be a mother even more aware that I want a family. Then I think about how far away it seems that I am from actually acheiving that.
*sigh*I want to fall in love...with someone healthy, rational, responsible, and who doesn't have a substance abuse problem! I want to fall in love, get married, have kids... Be a faithful and doting wife...be a loving and giving mother!
If I were in a relationship with someone I love and respect, I'd get married tomorrow and start working on building a family whenever we were ready.
But I think that I am in love with the idea of love. I'm beginning to believe that I might not find that someone who I'm nutz about and who is nutz about me too with whom I can have my little dream family. I think I'll probably end up marrying a good, good friend and just procreating. Or worse...I'll find myself a lonely old spinster.
Too much thinking.
On another note...
I started my guitar lessons this Monday past. My task for this week is to work on building calluses on the fingertips of my left hand so that it won't hurt when I finger the strings. I practiced my little scales for over 30 minutes yesterday and an hour today. I also played the little one line fingering exercises...and I was so proud of myself! I called Ben to let him hear my ridiculous monotonous picking of the scales. I'm so retarded sometimes. :)
These lessons are actually the bright spot in my life right now. Thanks, Ben!
I haven't written in a bit so here's a quick synopsis:
The long awaited sequel to LOTR: Episode II - Frodo Strikes Back
All of my friends and I went to see LOTR: Return of the King and it was excellent! I was so captivated while watching it that I didn't even notice that I was sitting in the theater for 4 hours!
By the way, has anyone ever noticed any similarity in the title of this third LOTR movie and the third of the original Star Wars movies, Star Wars: Return of the Jedi? Hmmm...very interesting.
Anyway, since this was the more emotionally charged of the three movies, there was alot of crying. On screen and off. I think I burst into tears at least 8 times...likely more. :) Ben said I reminded him of the hobbits, crying all over the place like that. Then we agreed that I'm too big and non-hairy for me to be a hobbit...so we decided that I'm the Anti-hobbit! :) I plan on seeing it again soon, so I'll rave about what parts I like the best and all after that viewing.
Christmas
Christmas was wonderful as always. My brother and dad had a bit of a tiff the week or so before and it looked like we were going to be doing Christmas Eve at my parent's house and then doing Christmas day with my brother. They both can be such damned stubborn jackasses sometimes! Anyway it was resolved and we all spent it together at my parent's home per Garris family tradition. Ben also stayed with us. It was nice to spend time with him. I especially enjoyed singing christmas carols on the drive to Beckley! And he was the giver of the most thoughtful of all Christmas presents: guitar lessons! I cried, a little. Thank you, Ben! :)
This Christmas was made even more enjoyable by my niece. She's 2 and 1/2 and is just now learning about Santa Claus. It was really cute watching her throw reindeer food (bird seed and glitter) out for the reindeer so that they would have something to eat while Santa was busy inside. She kept saying, "I wanna feed the weindeer!"
The next morning she was so cute opening her gifts. She'd open one and forget about everything else and just want to play with that one gift. She was giving orders for other people to open presents too because she didn't want anyone to feel left out. "Open you pwesent, Aunt Chis!" It was really adorable and made me feel so good about life...and so happy for her and her innocent joy. :) She makes me excited to know that I will be a mother in the future!
New Years Eve
I had a little gathering at my place with Chris, Shawn, Sean, Ken, Leslie, Scott, & Kelly Ballard in attendance. We drank a little, joked, toasted the new year with some top of the line champagne *wink, wink*, and then later played cards. Chris only had a glass of wine and a bit of the nasty champagne to drink that night and I'm very proud of him. :) I drank enough to make me sleepy...which isn't much. Chris' sister, Amy, rolled by with a friend and told us a very entertaining story about how she had gotten into a drunken fight the night before with some jealous chick outside of The Number Eight in downtown Charleston. Apparently the girl was dating Amy's ex and wanted revenge for something. Poor Amy! May the boot marks on her face heal with no scarring!
The next day "the gang" all went to see Paycheck starring Ben and Uma. Don't see it! It was pure unadulterated shite!
The following evening Shawn, Chris, Sean, and I went to Applebee's, spent some time with Roger B., and then rented and watched...no...wait...slept through The Order starring Heith Ledger. From what I could tell when I took a break from drooling on Shawn's shoulder as he was drooling on Chris, it was a lame movie. Don't see it either. Shawn and Chris left on Saturday after we all went to Bennigan's in celebration of Shawn's 27th birthday. Happy Birthday, you cocked jackal, you!
I parted from them at the mall and went to Cyndi and Matt's adoption party that their church threw for them since they're adopting Kiki and Anthony. I'm the godmother so I went and did godmotherish things, like writing down the names of all the people who sent gifts, mocking the parents, sucking helium from the balloons and making a general ass of myself for the entertainment of others, and playing with the children. Little Anthony is 1 and 1/2 and he's a non-stop playing machine, man. He'll throw ball till he falls asleep standing! Eventually he wore himself out and fell asleep while I was holding him. God, he was so cute!
After the shower, I helped the new parents pack up their gifts and kids and transport them home. I hung out all evening and entertained the new little McClures so that the big McClures could sort through and put things away. I fed Anthony Cherrios while reading Kiki stories from her Winnie the Pooh book. Very cute kids. Very smart.
Here and Now
So after such a lovely holiday why would anyone be feeling melancholy? Well at work I'm under an attack of sorts. Because I was sent to Parkersburg I fell behind at work and my Director reviewed my charts. Now I'm faced with a write up if everything isn't corrected in all 53 charts by Friday. So I'm definately getting written up, because try as I might, I've not been able to see all of my patients and update all of their files. I have no will to do it. I can't concentrate because I'm so upset and pissed at management and the whole situation! Who knows at that place? Maybe they'll fucking fire me!
So my job sucks. I've been missing my friends a little since they've been gone. I'm pissed off that I'm fat. And spending all of this time with my niece and godchildren has made that thing in me that wants to be a mother even more aware that I want a family. Then I think about how far away it seems that I am from actually acheiving that.
*sigh*I want to fall in love...with someone healthy, rational, responsible, and who doesn't have a substance abuse problem! I want to fall in love, get married, have kids... Be a faithful and doting wife...be a loving and giving mother!
If I were in a relationship with someone I love and respect, I'd get married tomorrow and start working on building a family whenever we were ready.
But I think that I am in love with the idea of love. I'm beginning to believe that I might not find that someone who I'm nutz about and who is nutz about me too with whom I can have my little dream family. I think I'll probably end up marrying a good, good friend and just procreating. Or worse...I'll find myself a lonely old spinster.
Too much thinking.
On another note...
I started my guitar lessons this Monday past. My task for this week is to work on building calluses on the fingertips of my left hand so that it won't hurt when I finger the strings. I practiced my little scales for over 30 minutes yesterday and an hour today. I also played the little one line fingering exercises...and I was so proud of myself! I called Ben to let him hear my ridiculous monotonous picking of the scales. I'm so retarded sometimes. :)
These lessons are actually the bright spot in my life right now. Thanks, Ben!
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