this doesn't even make sense.

Lately I have trouble sleeping at night. At first I thought it was because the vent blasted heat into the room at the same time every day (around 4:00 am), pouring heat into every corner and forcing me out of my slumber because I thought I was baking alive.

But then I shut the vent.

And once I did I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. It was wonderful. But now I am having the problems again. Problems falling asleep. Problems staying asleep. Problems where I wake up anxious that I am going to oversleep only to realize that it's 1:00 am...and then continue to do so at 15-45 minute intervals for the rest of the night.

Now, my dad has had nightmares consistently since he came home from Iraq. He doesn't sleep for very long, maybe 3-5 hour stretches. Every night  he ambles into the kitchen, pours himself a half glass of milk, drains it, sets the empty glass in the sink (without rinsing it, of course), and then heads to bed. I asked him once why he did it and he told me that the proteins in the milk help you sleep. He said it was his equivalent to a glass of warm milk....he was just saving time and energy by drinking it cold. He said it helped him fall asleep when the anxiety started to kick in. When I started having trouble sleeping at night, I thought of him and his standard glass of milk before bed and decided to give it a try.

I don't know if it's helping me sleep any (I'm still awake, aren't I?). It is making me homesick, though. I miss my family.

You know that thing where I am a little bit (extremely) ridiculous?

Yeah. It happened real bad today.

Perhaps I should explain.

You know that thing that happens once a month where my uterus sheds it's lining and I go apeshit in the process? That is happening right now. For the most part the only side effect I've been experiencing is an incessant urge to eat everything in my path that might be edible/have a flavor, which has been a nightmare in and of itself...I've gained 5 lbs in 3 days because I can't stop eating! Today, however, the irrational rage showed up and about 2/3 of my way through my work day I became so simultaneously thirsty and angry I genuinely thought I was going to chug a glass of water and then smash the glass into a wall. I deliberately did NOT get a glass of water because I was so unnerved by the desire. I did a pretty okay job of keeping it together, and even managed to make plans to go the the movies with Marisa in between battling the urge to put my fist through my computer screen and being moderately productive. 

To ensure that I'd make it safely through the rest of the night, I decided to take a post-work pre-movies nap. This is where everything went wrong. I fell asleep before I could remember to turn my phone off silent....so I didn't get any alerts/messages. Like the ones Marisa sent me asking if I were still one of the living.  So yeah, I did not wake up until around 6:45pm which was too late to make it to my favorite theatre where we were going to see Gulliver's Travels (finally). 

So, how am I coping with it all? I am about to go drown my sorrows in Mexican food. Fuck you, hormones.

If my face itches am I going to die?

This is the part of my blog where I am going to talk about shit that gives me low self-esteem and how I try to combat it.

In high school I was fat, awkward, and had braces. My saving grace was clear skin. I might have a slight, tiny zit every now and then, but nothing compared to the painful blemishes a lot of my friends were dealing with. That, apparently, was not to last. The past few years have been complete hell on my skin. I've tried every different over the counter product I can get my hands on, with little or no results.

Once I got comfortable enough here to open up and lament my fate to my co-workers/roommates/friends, Micah mentioned that I should try this stuff his mom got for him when he was hiking the AT (Appalachian Trail). In the spirit of nothing left to lose, I gave it the ole college try. It's a four hour spot treatment for zits you already have. I used it and had pretty positive results, but it wasn't PREVENTING the outbreaks which is ultimately what I was working toward. I decided to try to find a face wash that had the same active ingredient the spot treatment had in it, and Marisa suggested I try the face wash she uses, which contained benzoyl peroxide, the ingredient in question.

I purchased a bottle, brought it home, and immediately began to use it that night, on the same schedule I used my previous face wash: twice a day, once in the morning, once before bed. The following afternoon, after two washes, my face was rough and itchy. Like....clawing my face off itchy. Like message everyone I know to ask if I my itchy face might result in my death itchy. By the second night, the third time I was washing my face with it, my skin burned when I applied it. I consulted Dr. Wikipedia and learned that a few of the less common side effects of it are itching, burning, swelling, and sensitivity. I read on to see if there was any risk of my face peeling off. I could not discover any concrete evidence pointing toward total facial destruction, but I decided to cut down to using it once a day until my skin develops a tolerance for the benzoyl peroxide. You know, just in case.

My face itches less now, but it's still red and rough right under my eyes. I feel like that will fade. The best news, however, is that my skin has cleared up CONSIDERABLY. Like, I don't have massive exploding zits on my face, and this is the time of the month for them IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

So, this is a picture of me and my much clearer skin (and my incredibly silly hair).

Yeah. That's what's up.

Bekah and I made a pact the other day to start blogging more regularly. It's not so much that I think I am a profound or prolific writer. I don't have a message I need to get out there. I just need to talk. I need to vent. And the Lord knows I need to share waaaaaaaaaaay TMI on a regular basis, and I find that the internet really facilitates that exchange. So, with that said, I am going to start trying to blog twice a week. 

Bekah was talking about the future in her entry from last night, and I think that is a pretty good jumping off point. I am not sure what the WHOLE future holds for me, but I know what I want from the immediate future. I want to make this work here. I want to get healthy, and it IS doable. I want to be the best friend and co worker I can be. And, I want to spend more time working with the horses because I am kind of obsessed with them. I mean, how can you not love this face?

Exactly.

That reminds me, I want to try to feature more pictures. Which means I need to learn more about my camera so I can take the best pictures possible. (I feel like I've written these exact words before.)

On that note, I am going to take a nap. We had a group of military kids in today to do horseback riding, wall climbing, a hike, and then pumpkin carving/decorating. Yeah, I am EXHAUSTED. And I love every second of it.

The one where my heart broke.

I know it's been a bit, but I've had a really rough week. One of the greatest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing, Kenny Black, died on 4/23. I guess I tried to ignore it at first, but once it really sank it I did not take it very well. I thought about crawling in a hole, but decided that would be unreasonable. So, I just didn't blog for a few days. I like to punish my FAITHFUL READERS. Or something.

And I can be angry, and I can cry, and I can be overcome with soul-crushing sadness, but no matter what I do it's not going to change anything. He is gone. That finality....the fact that nothing I do can fix this...sometimes when I think about this I feel an emptiness so deep in my stomach that I think I might actually fall apart. Like I just might start crumbling away in chunks and flakes.

Nobody I've ever KNOWN, like really known, as ever died before. It's stunning to think that someone so young and full of life can be completely gone in just an instant. When you realize you're not invincible and that you're not going to live forever it puts things in perspective. If I can learn anything from Kenny's death it's that life needs to be lived. And so I am gonna try. I am gonna try to be a better sister, daughter, aunt, friend. I am going to try to be a better person all around. A better feminist, a better student, and a better teacher. I am going to put one foot in front of the other and take every step I can until it's my turn to die.

Once I can stop crying.

Every junkie's like a setting sun...

One day, when I was a senior in high school, I received a phone call from my brother. He told me he was at a treatment facility outside of Nashville and that he didn't belong there and that all of the people there were junkies and criminals and he was going to just walk out if someone did not come to get him.

I was stunned.. I had no idea my brother had any kind of drug problem, much less the kind that would put him in a treatment facility, voluntary or otherwise. Moments after I agreed to go get him, his longtime girlfriend called the house bawling, begging me not to go get him, telling me that he had a problem and that he needed to get help. I was in a hard spot. I had already told him I'd come get him, so I couldn't very well renege, but Liz was desperate. There was no doubt in my mind that she did not want him to come home, but I could not let him just walk out of the facility. I just pictured him wandering around the filthy streets of Nashville with junkies and criminals. It was with that image that I called my best friend, David, and told him I needed him to come with me to go pick him up. 

When we go there, it became VERY clear to me that I should not have been so worried about the junkies and criminals in Nashville. The place was in the middle of the forest. I am sure, at this point, that he was bluffing and I fell for it. And I think about that every time he goes on a bender.

Sunday night Liz found Jason's stash of Somas in the spare bedroom of their house. She told him that she found them and instead of responding like a normal person, he got really angry with her. He acted as though she were snooping through his belongings or like she was holding his vital organs or something, and that wasn't the case at all. She simply noticed he was acting stupid, watching him wander around the house, and then checked the spare bedroom after he left it. She wasn't even that suspicious until she saw one pill on the floor. When she found the rest of them, and he got angry at her, she flushed them all down the toilet. 

My brother, high off his ass, ripped the toilet off the floor, threw Liz into the bathtub, and was going to hit her with the shower curtain rod until she snatched it out of his hands. She called my mom and we rushed down to their house to help.

Helping ended up being me pinning him to the floor over and over again because he kept trying to rush us, kept trying to run away, and then kept crying that Liz had flushed "a hun...a hun....a hundred....hundred dollars......." in somas down the toilet. And I am gonna tell you right now, if I did not outweigh my brother by a hundred pounds, I'd never have been able to keep him still. It was incredibly difficult as it was because he is taller and stronger than I am. My weight and sobriety were my only advantages, and you better believe I used them. I was so scared he was going to hurt one of us. As it was, at least twice I was afraid I was going to dislocate his shoulder because he kept struggling and trying to twist out of my grip. I told him over and over that I'd let him go if he'd just sit down and be cool, but he wasn't having it. Whenever I let him go, he'd start running for the door or for Liz. At one point, my mom and Liz were holding him, but he kept pinching my mom and kicking at Liz. I went over and held his legs and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he passed out. 

The next day I felt like I had been beat up. You cannot imagine how difficult it is to wrestle a grown ass man (unless, of course, you are a wrestler) and I could hardly lift my arms over my head. My hands were sore from gripping his wrists, the muscles on my sides hurt from twisting back and forth every time he'd trying to shake me. And at some point, I managed to obtain the following bruise on my elbow:

That was taken the day after, and I know it doesn't look that bad, but this is what it looked like yesterday:

So yeah, it was just getting warmed up.

And if you think my little elbow bruise is ugly, you should've seen the ones on my brother's wrists and shoulders. The ones on his wrists were definitely from me, and they made me sick to see them. It disgusted me to know that I could do that to a person. The ones on his shoulders are from when he was stumbling into the walls, and they both looked as bad as his shoulder did when he broke his collarbone a few years ago. I wanted to take pictures of his bruises, but then felt it would be really scavenger-y of me to do so.

All week, whenever I see him, my brother will pull his sleeve up to look at his bruises, shake his head in mild awe, and then say, "Man, don't no chick wanna mess with Kashmir."

And I wonder if it would've happened at all if I had left him there that day.

Spring Cleaning

I got an email from blogger about their new Blogger in Draft thing, and while playing with it I accidentally set my blog to look like this. Whoops! It's pretty nice though, right?

I have been struggling to hold onto my anxiety lately. I find myself unraveling with less external influence. It doesn't take much to set me off, and then I find myself in a screaming while cleaning frenzy. Today, for example, I woke up around 9:00 am because I was hungry. I got up, got dressed, and somewhere between putting my contacts in and brushing my teeth, I FLIPPED MY SHIT. When I got to the kitchen I put the dishes away, loaded the dishwasher, started directing the kids to doing this and that and the other. I cleaned the stove and the microwave. I cleaned the counters. I cleaned the vent on the microwave. I had the kids clean the fridge, clean windows, clean the front of the stove. We cleaned off the bar, moved the kitchen table downstairs. We vacuumed the living room, and then the formal dining room which we then cleaned out and ate dinner in for the FIRST TIME SINCE MY PARENTS BOUGHT THIS HOUSE IN 2004.

Yeah. It was kind of out of control. The house does not even look the same with the kitchen table downstairs. The kitchen looks massive. It is nice and easy to navigate in. Also, since we rearranged the living room and added my futon and recliner and coffee table, we've managed to keep it cleaner and more organized. At this point, three rooms in the house are pretty well taken care of. We do need to clean out and organize the bookshelves in the living room, but that is really all that is left in those three rooms.

Once we get those sorted, we plan to start on the family room/Phillip's room and my room. Since I am going to move my stuff down into Jason&Liz's old room in the basement, Phillip will get his old room back and then my mom will have the family room to, you know, use as a family room. That room is going to be the worst because it has a bunch of my shit, a bunch of gardening shit, and then a bunch of Phillip's nasty nasty nastiness. Plus, whatever grossness the kids left there when my mom wasn't watching them while I was away at camp last summer.

So, yeah. We are harnessing the power of my anxiety to do our spring cleaning.

OH, and hilariously, when we were moving the bar to clean out behind it and spray for ants/spiders I found a dead mouse. Rural Missouri, you are a mess.

Sorry for being lazy.

I have neglected you, Blog. I have neglected you, too, friends. I am so sorry, but I assure you, I have really been busy. Like, I know in my last entry I was all "splish splash I am busy" but that was a joke. That was an exaggeration. That was a wish. Since then I feel like I have been put through a fucking GAUNTLET.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE?! A GAUNTLET?! IT FEELS LIKE IT SUCKS!

Where should I start? There is not much to mention. I mean, unless you think that my mom and I confronting a drug dealer in my brother's living room and then getting into a screaming match with the aforementioned drug dealer's gf in the front yard is worth mentioning. Because that definitely happened.

Or the time I worked for nine days straight. Most days from 6am-2pm. By the end of that marathon of employment I was going to bed, no bullshit, at 6pm. And my hair looked like shit everyday b/c I had to take a shower before I went to bed, since there was no way in hell I was going to be able to get up early enough to shower before work.

So yeah. Mostly the marathon is what was kicking my ass. I am going to try to be better. I know people who balance work, school, and active social lives. I cannot even handle work and that is a crying shame. I need to get it together. I am going to GET IT TOGETHERRRR!!!!

At least I have my beautiful, wonderful, magical BlackBerry. That phone has been my LIFESAVER. It's how I've been able to keep up with what is going on on FB and twitter! Plus, I got a new, super cute purple and black zebra striped case for it. So yeah. It's pretty rad.

My car is all legal and registered and insured and titled. I drove it to work two days in a row when I discovered that there was oil pouring out of it. My brother says the rear seal or some shit is bad and that is why it is leaking. Natch, this is a $30 part that will cost $500 in labor to install. He is supposed to be going to Okinawa for work, and he promised me that if he really did make good money he would buy and have a completely new motor put in it. I doubt very highly that will happen, so I am just going to save up like a normal person. At any rate, Millicent (that's my car's name, y'all) is out of commission. And this makes me very very very sad.

Okay, so this is the latest I have stayed up in, like, two weeks and I need to go to bed b/c I am still kind of tired. I will try to be better. For real.

Man, I have been busy. Not so busy, internet, that I couldn't post a blog...there is really no excuse for that other than I am just lazy. I hope you can forgive me.

I decided to make my blog private for about a week because I did a fair amount of shit talking and I was afraid the person I was talking shit about had found this bad boy. I removed the links from where she could easily find it, made it private, and hoped for the best. Nothing has come up about the whole shebang, so I think I am in the clear.

Anyway, last week my goddamn brother got in a car wreck. And by "got in a car wreck" I really mean "he was driving down the road, rubbed the tire against the raised median, broke the tire off, and then totaled two cars, trashed another, and totaled the truck." Like I said, he got in a car wreck.

He was fine, thankfully, and nobody else was hurt, so that is one of those could've been way way way way WAY worse things. You're not sure you agree? At this point I had planned to put pics of the truck, but for some reason I cannot get them to link from my flickr account. Check back later for a post with pics.

In other news, we ultimately decided to take the car to a mechanic b/c my brother can't be here and the car can't be there and GODDAMNIT, I WANT TO DRIVE IT, OKAY?! I BOUGHT IT, IT'S MINE, I WANT TO PLAY WITH IT!

Just saying.

In other news, as a result of the aftermath of the truck masacree, Liz has made Jason move from sgf back to Houston. They rented the house two doors down from us, so that is cute. They will be super close...so I can run over to their house when I need a break from the chaos at mine.

Okay, so, I guess that is about it. This feels kind of haphazard, but I have been multitasking like crazy all thru this entry. I found an old memory card from when I was in high school (we're talking spring of 2003) so I am pretty excited to see what kind of stupid shit is on here. I'll let you know if there is anything good.

Eventually.

The one where I use "y'all" twice and un-ironically.

Oh my god. It never ends.

Sunday my brother and Liz were driving my car to where I live from SGF. About halfway, my brother became concerned that the battery wasn't holding a charge, so he pulled over in Mansfield (where Laura Ingalls Wilder settled, for all you history/pioneer buffs), Liz right behind him in the truck. They conferred and then decided to call my parents and ask them to come out with the trailer and tow the car back to the house.

Mind you, the car was ONLY being moved b/c my brother's apt complex was going to have it towed Monday because I don't have plates/registration for it yet and can't get them because I have to have it inspected which I cannot do from here when it is there. Which is in contradiction to MO's law stating that a body has 30 days to get their shit sorted. (it says that more or less. They should let me go through and re-write all of the legislation in people terms. Then people would know what the f is up.)

Anywho. So, yeah, big deal my brother and Liz calling to have my mom and dad come pick the car up. It's a big deal because my dad hasn't spoken to or acknowledged my brother's existence for a year. I was at work getting steady text updates FREAKING OUT because I was so afraid it was gonna get ugly. My dad has had the tendency to get REAL shitty with my brother when he sees him (which is incredibly rare. That he sees him. Not that he gets shitty. That's a given. Shitty upon sight.). My parents had to stop at my older sister's house to pick up the trailer. They were a little grumpy that they had called beforehand and when they got there, all the shit they had been hauling with it was still on it, so my parents had to offload that. Always considerate when they are using someone else's things, my sister and her husband are (hello, Yoda my name is.)

Now, this is where it starts to get REAL good. As they were pulling away, my dad noticed that the spare tire for the trailer was not on the trailer. My mom called my sister to ask where it was and she replied "in the garage" in an offhanded, oh silly forgetful us, manner. They chalked it up to their general carelessness and lack of regard for anyone other than themselves, and continued the approx 45 minute to drive to Mansfield.

When they arrived, they discovered that one of the trailer tires was flat. And had been flat. For a while. In fact, it had been flat for so long without my dad realizing he was driving on a flat tire that the aforementioned flat tire was shredded. Into strips. And bits. And pieces. And, oh hey, where was the spare? And hello, if it had been flat why didn't my sister tell my parents? What a kidder. My mom called my sister to ask why she hadn't told them that the tire on the trailer was flat, so my sister went ahead and confessed to our mother that she did, in fact, know it was flat, and that, HA HA HA, it was actually the spare tire that they had to put on the trailer when the other tire (the one that is in their garage) went flat. At this point my mom started screaming at her because UHM HELLO she did not even mention that the tire in the garage was flat AND she let her PARENTS DRIVE OFF ON A JOURNEY TO PICK UP A CAR WITH A TRAILER THAT SHE KNEW HAD A FLAT TIRE.

I HAVE TO BE RELATED TO HER, Y'ALL. IT HAUNTS ME.

I have my suspicions as to why she did this, and I will keep them to myself because it would be very easy for her to find this blog, and I talk enough shit as it is. But let's just say, things are heating up and getting ugly.

Anyway, so my mom and brother drove down the road to find a place that would sell them a tire while my dad and Liz chilled out at the gas station admiring the delightful new addition to the parking lot that is our driveway. Thirty minutes and a $93 trailer tire later, my mom and brother returned and my dad and brother managed to get the tire changed (SIDE BY SIDE. TOGETHER. WITH MANNERS. AND TALKING. AND NO SHITTERY, Y'ALL), the car loaded, and back on the road.

So, yeah. My car is here. In the driveway. Still on the trailer. Waiting for a few more things to be fixed and then my ass to be firmly planted in the seat. It is the cutest car in the world, and you already know I am going to drive her to hell and back.

This was just on Sunday. It doesn't even begin to touch on the drama that occurred today, but you're gonna have to wait for that. I am not sure if I wanna type it or make a video telling the story. Either way, it's not going to be told tonight because my fingers are cold and I am tried of typing.

Does this really happen to people?

I bought a car. A completely adorable car. My brother has been working on fixing the few things that are wrong with it, and replacing some things that are not necessities, but are nice to have (like functioning speakers). In the great state of Missouri, a body has 30 days from the purchase of a car to get it titled and registered and plated and all that good stuff. So, I have no worried about getting everything sorted out because my brother is not done working on the this and the that and the what and the have you, and HELL, I've got thirty days, right?

Aside: I know I promised an entry on my brother and the drama that took place in our lives one year ago (exactly a year ago, for real), but this is not that entry.

My brother works for a small company. The guy has, like, three employees. My brother asked for a raise recently (he is making like $7.50/hr) and instead of giving him the raise, his boss fired him Friday last, and said it was because he left work early last week to go help my sister find a tire WHEN SHE BLEW HER TIRE OUT IN SPRINGFIELD 80 MILES FROM WHERE WE LIVE. So, my brother has had extra free time in between job hunting to work on my car for me. Tuesday, his ex-boss calls him and asks him to come in so he can talk to him about whatever, and he offered my brother his job back. Wednesday, his apartment complex called him at work to tell him they were going to have my car towed b/c it did not have plates. So, my brother had to leave work early AFTER HE GOT FIRED FOR LEAVING WORK EARLY, all because his apartment complex which IS NOT EVEN AT HALF CAPACITY OF TENANTS (my brother is the only person who lives in his ENTIRE BUILDING) did not want to let my car that has been there for FOUR DAYS sit there without plates.

WHAT HAPPENED TO THIRTY DAYS?!

Liz called the apartment and explained to them the situation, that we live an hour and a half away, that my brother was doing minor repairs, and that it should be done by the weekend. They agreed to extend it until Monday, but because I was totally terrified that those idiots were gonna have my car towed I convinced Liz to ride to Springfield with me so I could pick up the title and papers, bring it all home, and then get everything registered and sorted Thursday morning. This way, I reasoned, Liz could take the plates and registration to Springfield with her Thursday evening when my brother came to get her. THIS WAS FOOL PROOF! I AM GROWNUP, HEAR ME ROAR!

I woke up Thursday morning to a text from Liz, who was at work, that read: "I just realized that you cannot get plates for a car without getting it inspected." I FUCKING HATE MISSOURI.

So, not only did I waste the gas money to drive up there, it was fucking pointless because even if you can find a place in MO to pass a car EVEN THOUGH they shouldn't, they sure as hell won't do it w/o the car being there. How's that for business ethics?

I am freaking out. My brother is on edge b/c his job is obviously not secure and he feels like he coerced me into buying a shitty car that he keeps finding little things that need to be repaired on, and all in all, I am just really annoyed. So, it's Missouri's fault. SUCK IT, MO!

The Olympics

JEEEZ! I have been trying to update for like two days but for some reason my internet and blogger have combined to ANNOY THE SHIT OUT OF ME!

Anyway, I wanted to say that I finally got started doing videos on youtube. If you are interested you can check them out here. Feel free to subscribe! I am going to try to keep the content on the two (blog and vlog) a little more varied so that it is not a repeat and you aren't wasting your time watching one thing and then reading the same thing. Hopefully I am able to pull that off!

My job is going really well, I think. I keep making mistakes, but they are fewer and further between, which is how it is supposed to be, so I think I am right on track. I was watching the Olympics the other night when I realized that the last time I watched the Olympics (that I actually remember) was at the Front Page Deli in Clarksville, TN. I was there with Renee&Jenny and we were eating french fries and drinking sweet tea and swooning over how hot Apollo Anton Ono was (is, haha). I was a junior in high school and they were seniors. And then I realized that was eight years ago. Where has the time gone?

It's a wonderful life

Dude. I had the most epic Tuesday ever! I got my package from amazon containing my Sookie Stackhouse books (keeping the reading classy over here at kashmirror.blogspot.com), my webcam, my digi cam, and my battery charger&rechargeable batteries. I also found out my work clothes that I ordered FINALLY shipped. AND THEN I GOT A NEW PHONE! Yeah, today was way better than Christmas.

I had my first day of work Monday night. I was supposed to work the 10m-6am shift that I was hired for, but that morning my boss called me to ask if I could work the 2pm-10pm shift since she had family visiting and she wanted to spend time with them. I told her I'd be happy to, which I was, but it kind of messed up my day b/c I stayed up really late in preparation to stay up really late the next night. BUT I SURVIVED IT! The weather was getting nasty before I left to go up there, and by the time I was ready to leave (eight hours, one paperback novel,  a movie, an episode of scrubs, and several episodes of No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain later), the roads were atrocious.

My boss asked me to stop at the hotel they own in Houston on my way home to drop off some sort of cooking utensil for her son. I only mention it because when I tried to make the turn off the highway into the parking lot I locked the brakes and nearly skidded into a ditch. Thank goodness there was nobody else out on the road at the time otherwise it would've been CATASTROPHIC!!!!!!!! Or at least inconvenient.

I feel good. This is the best I've felt in a long time. I am excited when I wake up, I have lots of new toys, responsibility in the form of my new job and I think things are finally turning around for me. It's wonderful!

Shopping sucks.

I am in an ill-ass mood. I have been ordering clothes off the interwebs b/c I need some nicer clothes for my new job (and for my life, in general, tbh). The only clothing store in a 30 mile radius is walmart, and I am kind of a snob, so I don't like to buy clothes there if I don't have to. So, yeah, I bought some shit off the internet. The first bunch of stuff I got was okay...the tops fit (but only because I remembered at the last minute that I bought some tops from this place over the summer and that they were a little too big, so I got them a size smaller), but the pants I ordered in my normal size and they were too big. So, I filled out the little return and exchange form and mailed 'em back. Today I got an email from that place telling me they no longer have those pants in stock and that they will be giving me a refund in 1-2 billing cycles. Uhm, you will sure as shit take my money with the quickness but when it comes to giving it back it might take up to two months? I NEED those pants for my job, and if you don't give me my gd money how the hell am I gonna go elsewhere to buy pants? Do you just assume, Online Retailer, that I have an unlimited and expendable income and can wait for you to get your heads out of your asses and deposit the money back into my account? Hmmm?

Then, I ordered some more tops and a vest from another place. I got that package yesterday in the mail, and was pretty frustrated b/c everything was too big, the vest was horrifying, and one of the gd shirts they sent me WAS NOT EVEN WHAT I ORDERED!!!! How they mistook a green paisley sleeveless t-shirt for a beige trimmed polo shirt is BEYOND my comprehension, but I filled the form out and got it all ready to ship back via UPS OF COURSE!

I am incredibly annoyed because I do live in a small town and I do wear plus sized clothes and MY LIFE IS JUST REALLY INCONVENIENT!!!!!

beep beep

I got my new laptop! I kind of love it alot, but I am having some technical issues with and around it. I originally wanted to get a notebook with an internal mic and webcam so that I could start making videos...my friend Saire over at Full of Words inspired me, as it were! However, for some reason when I record videos with the preinstalled software, the audio is always really low. LIKE REALLY LOW. Like, Zeb and I made a video of him singing the intro to "Miss New Booty" at the top if his lungs while I repeated the word "beep" over and over again and you can barely hear us low. It works fine with Skype...the people I've been speaking to on there have had no problem hearing me, which indicates to me that it is the software I am using, but I am not entirely sure how to fix it or what other software there is out there for makin' vidz on the ole compy. So yeah, that is proving to be problematic.

Another issue I am having is not so much with the notebook as it is with my router. For some reason, my desktop cannot even be powered ON when I try to access the internet with my notebook, and vice versa. They are both capable of accessing the internet, obviously, but just not at the same time. I am sure it is fixable, I just don't possess the computer know-how to do it myself, so tomorrow I am gonna call linksys and see what I need to do to FIX IT.

Oh oh, before I go, I bought some stuff off etsy from a user called a Passion For Fashion. I made myself a necklace today:

Pretty stinkin' cute, right? It's a tree just in case the image is too grainy for you to discern what the pendant is of....or if you are too distracted by my chipped polish or blinding mug.

Okay, I need to get to bed. I start training at my new job tomorrow and I need to get up early enough to do some laundry and call Linksys and bless my family with my presence.

Roseanne Rosannadanna ain't got nothing on me.

Craigslist is like magic! I found a job on the SGF craigslist Sunday night for a hotel front desk clerk and when I saw the listing I nearly PEED myself because there are NEVER any jobs listed this far east of SGF, but sure enough, there one was. I immediately emailed the listing, provided my resume, and tried my best to be engaging. It must've worked, because he called me the next morning to arrange for me to come down to the location to fill out an application. It's about twenty minutes south of the town I live in, so it's not too bad, and after I ran a plethora of other errands, I managed to get down there. His wife interviewed me on the spot (after I filled out the application) and gave me a basic idea of what the job would entail, what the shift would be, and how things would work. She told me she'd call me this morning to arrange for me to come meet with her husband at the hotel they have IN my town (too bad that one's night hiring, AMIRITE?!) so that he could interview me, too.

I thought I blew it because they ended up calling three times this morning and couldn't get through...this was after I assured her that someone was always around the answer the phone. When I got down to the hotel I apologized profusely and explained that it really is incredibly uncommon for nobody to answer the phone. Even in my sleep I usually hear the phone ringing from across the house. They must not have had any other replies because after about 15 minutes of talking and discussion and all that good stuff, they asked me to start training on Saturday.

So...while I'm not on the payroll YET, I am certainly on my way. And even though it's a night shift from 10pm to 6am and it's only gonna be 3 MAYBE 4 nights a week, it is a START. And since it's SO late, I could in theory get any other job in town (assuming any pop up) and it would not interfere with that schedule since it's SO late and nothing around here closes that late or opens that early. It is quite a relief to finally get back into the employment saddle. I am incredibly nervous about what this could mean for camp (since I assured them repeatedly that I was in it for the long haul), but I can't worry about that right now. I need to be thinking about what I need right now.

Oh, and of course, not 4 hours after I confirm that I am going to start training, the mountaineer started overheating. We think a hose is dead, or something, but at this point it's completely un-drivable because it keeps overheating, and we're already short two cars (Samantha's is out of commission and Liz doesn't have one). We've got four days to get it sorted.

It's always something....if it's not one thing, it's something else, ain't it?

How to bite the hand that feeds you.

I like to think of myself as a good person, and I know my family has it's problems, but at the end of the day I think we are good people. We try to help others, if we can, and we do our best to be understanding and not let our prejudices cloud our judgement.

When my grandpa died in 2004, he had over 300 acres of land, plus a trailer, a house, and a couple of sheds. My dad and my uncle split everything evenly, and my dad bought what they didn't sell from my uncle. I guess it is worth mentioning that my grandparents got divorced in the late 60's and, while my dad lived with my grandma for a while, he ultimately grew up with my grandpa in TN.

Once the land selling and buying out of property had occurred, my dad was left with something like 80 acres, the trailer, the house, and the sheds (and I mention the sheds, because they are serious. They are huge and have furniture, papers, dishes, pictures, albums...everything you can imagine and some things you can't). The trailer is where my grandpa had been living after his divorce from my step-grandmother, and the house that had once belonged to his parents was a property that he had been renting out off and on.

My parents keep the trailer for when they go to TN to visit the family and friends we have in the area, when they go to check on the land, or when they need to go handle paperwork...my parents are still legally residents of TN even though we are in MO and all of our vehicles etc are registered there. The house hadn't been lived in for quite some time and was largely uninhabitable.

Here comes the "we try to be good people" part. My dad has a friend that he grew up with who had fallen on some hard times. To help the guy out, my dad offered to let him stay in the house RENT FREE as long as he took care of it and looked into seeing what was needed to get the house back in shape. He's been living there for years, as far as I know.

Today my dad's ex-step-mother called. The last time I distinctly remember seeing/talking to her was in October of 2004. She called to tell my dad that a friend of hers saw the following picture on the front page of The Tennessean:

That's my great-grandparents' house. He turned it into a meth lab.

He.turned.it.into.a.meth.lab.

HE TURNED THAT HOUSE INTO A FUCKING METH LAB!!!!!!!!!

She assumed my dad didn't know yet, and set out to get a hold of him immediately. I was sitting across from my dad at the table while he was talking to her and I, no bullshit, thought he was going to cry. My dad has been gone for years...over 20 years. He has memories of those places and the people who are long gone, and it eats at him that he is not there. And it breaks his heart to know that he tried to do a good thing and was taken advantage of like this.

To be honest, I am surprised that TBI hasn't gotten in touch with him yet. They are, no doubt, doing background checks on everyone in my family as we speak to see if any of us are in any way culpable for this. Hell, they might even find this.

I just cannot believe someone would do this to my dad. It's like a slap to the face.

And, that is the exact picture that ran in the paper, by the way. I looked it up on The Tennessean's website.

Keepin' it real.....real awkward.

I went away to camp for three months this past summer. While I was gone my parents found Jesus. I thought Samantha was kidding when she told me, but she was completely serious. I flew home on a Saturday. The next morning my mom woke me up to ask me if I wanted to go to church with them. Me. In a church. Can you imagine? I laughed because I thought she was kidding, but the look in her eyes stopped me mid-chuckle...she was honestly inviting me. I declined as politely as I could.

Now, I have the advantage of having a sister who is just like me. We are a pair of liberal, pagan heathens (it is possible that is redundant, but we had a neighbor growing up who referred to children as "heathens" so I associate that word more often with wild children rather than godless hellions). I have a partner in staying home Sunday mornings, even though I am usually the one staying home and she is usually the one going to work what with my current state of unemployment and her current state of employment.

Now, let me be clear, I don't actually care if my parents go to church. I wouldn't even care if Samantha started going to church. If that makes them happy (and please allow me to assure you, it makes them VERY happy) then I am all for them going. I am just not going. And it kills my mom. It just eats at her that we are not interested in going to church. I am sorry, I have never been to church with you before in my life...I am 24 years old, don't try to help me find Jesus now.

For Thanksgiving the church had a lunch/dinner party thing after the service. Both of our parents wanted us to go, and Samantha was on board, but they didn't wake her up beforehand, so she didn't get the chance to go. Sweet. I was not so lucky this time around. Samantha made it a point to let our parents know she wanted to come to the Christmas program and dinner, and if she was going to go that meant I had to go. Not only because I couldn't send her alone, but because I would NEVER hear the end of it.

So, this morning we got up bright and early (you know, at like 9:30 am!) and got ready for the program. We elected to skip the service and show up, instead, for just the Christmas play...you know...Joseph&Mary and the angels and the shepherds and the wise men and Jesus and all that. Samantha had drove across town to pick Cheri up since her daughters were both IN the play and everyone agreed it'd be sweet for her to get to see them, so we showed up a little after the play started. Once we found the door, we realized we had to wander through the ENTIRE cast waiting for the cue to start their way down the aisle to the front of the church.

Awesome.

We interrupted the entire thing and managed to make it to an empty pew IN THE FRONT of the church (since, for some reason, everyone was sitting in the back). Cheri went in first with Samantha right behind her, and they both sat down without leaving me any room, so I had to make them move down further. At this point, I would say I was definitely wishing for an anonymous death. There were 30 people trying to figure out who the fuck we were and what we were doing there...of course, it became all too clear when CC came tearing out of the back squealing "MOMMY!" at the top of her lungs. We sat and enjoyed the show (my dad was a wise man, Shelby was an angel, and Zeb was a shepherd).

After the play (and after "Joseph" knocked an ENTIRE pew over), everyone wandered into the back to eat. Because what is a Christmas play w/o tons of food, amirite? Samantha and I are obviously very uncomfortable, but she was willing to wait it out, so I sucked it up and kept my mouth shut. My dad introduced us to the pastor, which was painful, and then we, too, made it to the back corner and took up shop at what I referred to as the pagan table with the structurally questionable chairs. I mean, these chairs looked like they were being held together by rust and miracles, so yeah, I did not sit down because I was seriously terrified that the chair would not hold me. Being fat rules.

Our mom came back to say hi and introduce us to some more people. We mumbled hello uncomfortably, and then were offered food by several passersby, our parents included. My mom asked me 5 or 6 different times if I wanted a plate. Even Samantha asked me. I said no every time. I was not hungry, and I couldn't focus on eating, I was too busy trying to keep from throwing up, crying, or both with my fantastic luck. As the other tables filled, patrons wandered down to our table and began taking seats there. Again I was told "you can eat, if you want to," to which I politely replied "no thank you, I am not hungry." I KNOW I AM ALLOWED TO EAT. I COOKED HALF THAT SHIT. IF I WERE HUNGRY, I'D EAT. BUT I'M NOT HUNGRY.

At around this point, Samantha had managed to fix herself a plate of food and to bring us both glasses of tea, but neither of us was comfortable. At all. My mom asked me AGAIN if I wanted a plate, and I told her to stop asking me because she was going to give me a panic attack. I think it hurt her feelings, but what was I supposed to tell her? No was not cutting it, and I wasn't going to say yes because I have better things to do than lie about wanting a plate of food. Yeesh.

After a bout of child wrangling (our three were absolutely horrid, but that's par for the course) that resulted in me standing in the kid's area watching over Zeb and CC plus two other kids I didn't know to make sure they cleaned their plates and watching Shelby stand in the corner for a timeout because she kept playing with her food, we traded keys with my dad and got.the.fuck.out of there.

I came home, changed back into my pajamas, and went back to bed in the hope that I would be able to mentally lower my blood pressure.

Never. ever. ever. again. I hope they know that.

Mixed Signals

Sometimes I feel fine. Really and truly. Hopeful about the future and like I am doing alright. This is just temporary and I know it and I can still breathe when I think about it because I know it's just a point on the line of my life.

But other times I feel like my molecules are splitting apart and my atoms are going to fly out of me. Those days are more often. And they are hard. It is a lot of "why me?" and "if I had fought harder would I still be in this situation?" That one is the worst. Because I can't change the past, only the future.

I keep telling myself the same things over and over again in hopes that at some point they will stick. I want to be better. I will be better. It will be better. I have a future.

My grandma called me yesterday to inform me that there are 8,000 jobs in South Dakota and they have NOBODY to fill them. Sadie has offered me her spare room in her house in AZ, Allie and I have tentative plans to move in together in TN in May, Bekah has shown me several different job sites and offered me a spot in her future apt in MD. It appears to me that I have a fair amount of opportunity, I just need to get my head on straight and figure out what I want. I know I don't want to be here. And I know it's going to be difficult for both me and my family when I do leave.

It's like that Forget Cassettes song: "I know it hurts, but good god, girl, get up and fight for it."

Keeping it Together.

Let me just start by saying, I have had a REALLY rough week. Not for any particular reason. I mean, there are people in my county whose houses burned down this week (I think three different families), so I could be any one of them complaining about my week, but I'm not. It is just my crazy all built up and brimming over.

I am trying to enjoy the season. I wasted fall, my favorite season in the history of seasons, hating everything. It's just really hard. My grandma always says you should just pretend you are happy, and then one day you will be. Mind over matter. I try. I really, really do, but because I have no actual plans for the future it's really hard to pretend to be happy now. The only thing I know for sure is that I will be here for the foreseeable future...and that breaks me.

I am still crocheting. Not with as much fervor as before, and not because I like it less, but because I am less driven to do anything. I don't really have the patience to concentrate on anything.

At least there is winter camp! I am super excited about that. And, afterwards when I spend a few days in PA with Danielle, we are thinking about taking a day trip to NYC. Matt and Jenny are supposed to be going, and David lives there, and I haven't see him in five years, so I will probably die of "OMFG IT'S YOU!"

I need a plan. I just need a plan that I can follow. I am good at following. I am not good at ideas, but if someone tells me what to do, I am pretty good at making it happen.