I really am on a bullet to train to somewhere.

I'm still about two weeks to homelessness. I got 22 bucks to my name until... well, I don't know. I have the dogs fed, a half of tank of gas in the car, and so far, no eviction notice - and I don't in heavens name know why I have internet, I haven't paid those people in five months. A box of pasta and two jars of sauce should last me for a week, maybe two, and I think I may be able to con the utilities to keep on the power for a week more, maybe a week an a half.

But let me tell you what was.

Friday, I had a interview in Hickory. I headed to the interview but suffered a blow out on the way up - a fucking thing with a nail flew out from the back of a semi in front of me. I hit it and BOOSH, I ran off the road. I pretty much lost all my marbles at that point. I changed the tire and called the company, asking if I could push it back 30 minutes and explained my situation. So, at 9:30 when my interview was at 10, we rescheduled my interview to 1:30. So I toodled back home and recurled my hair, had a water, and tried to relax. I scheduled a lunch with a friend in Hickory for after the interview, and I couldn't convince him he didn't have to buy. Men just don't want to listen. I fiddled around some more, and confirmed a.... (GAK) date for that evening. Yes. We'll get to that.

It takes about and hour and half to get to where I'm going, so I try and kick back a little. It gets about 10:30 and the company calls to see if I could make it at noon - which if I sped and prayed, I could. And of course, I said, "HEY, no problem." I hung up and beat a path to the car and took off like a batshit out of a canon. I get out of Forest City and remember - I didn't put my tag on the car. So, I've been tooling down the road for five miles with no tag. We fix that, and get back into Lil' Red and head out.

I get to Hickory in record time, and would have been on time had I not gotten lost. I called them up about five minutes before my interview and they talk me around the neighborhood until I find their offices. Going well, so far, don't you think?

I get there, and thank the universe there is air conditioning in the office. The white tank I chose to wear under the one nice green interview shirt I have has slipped WAY down in front, and I'm trying to hoist it back up before I open the door. I meet the two gentlemen who are going to interview me and I sit down. We get to talking and one of the first things said was "It looks to be you might be a little overqualified for this position...." I quickly said sweetly, "Ohhh nooo. don't say that..."

And for the next half and hour we went through all my qualifications, which to be honest, everything would be a cake walk for me. I gave them concrete examples my experience and how it might apply to their organization. God fucking help me, I couldn't stop me from being me, I got bubbly and was cracking a few jokes here and there. They laughed and scribbled things down from time to time. I said something to the effect of there's a lot of us good, talented people out of work (we talked about how the economy TANKED). The answer I got back was, "Yeah, we were thinking we'd find a bigger pool of quality but it hasn't worked out that way," he said with a quick finger wag "NOT talking about your work, your work is great."

We talked about compensation and benefits, and my management style. I said that if I got the position, I would move the zoo up here (laughter), they asked about my dogs. And they thanked me for coming up and sympathized for my ordeal. More laughter and I jetted out to meet my friend for lunch.

I ended up the next morning writing a thank you email, with an offer to work for them on a temporarily basis through the duration of the interviews, and if they found someone more qualified, I would step down. It couldn't hurt - what do I have to lose?

I jetted to meet a friend of mine for lunch. He is a very sweet boy, a transplant who is as much homesick for Ohio as I am for Kansas. He is a very nice friend, and don't freak out, he's 19. He insisted on paying and we had a VERY pleasant lunch. I was bouncing off the walls telling of the interview, and we talked about him going to school and my life going down the toilet. At least in friendship, age IS just a number. If only I was about 20 I was thinking... because when I was 20, there were no boys that sweet.

So I passed a little time before I had to motor to Asheville and meet my dinner date. And before everybody goes and starts dialing Child Services on me, this one is over 30... Okay. A YEAR over 30. BUT IT'S GETTING BETTER. COME ONNNN. He is a terribly sweet and soft spoken young man. It took a billion years to get the schedules to come together, but finally this dinner was arranged although he had to go at 8 to head off to Vegas for business. I sat at Tolliver's, a bar in west Asheville, talking to one of the smarter hippie girls I've met. It was sunny outside, and I was just hoisting a cold one, when I noticed that along with the sunshine, it was raining HARD. I jumped up and screamed and when running out the back door because my sunroof and both windows were open. I stage a little nutty, "This is NO way to run weather - its suppose to LOOK like its going to rain before it rains..." I resign the fact that I'm never going to end up on a date all purdy like how I started out.

Well hour and a bit pass and I meet my nice man for dinner and we eat and have a couple. And end up belly up at the bar standing by each other, closer and closer. Yeah, I'm a little redheaded devil. We shared some nice moments and both "aww shucks"-ing that we didn't have more time.

I left out big crazy swaths of story, and some of the more prurient details, but you get the gist.
So I'm casually dating a little bit now. I've never done this before so I'm like a newborn lamb trying out its legs. Nope. Never dated at all. The closest I had ever come to was "let's hang out" and then that guy was it for five or six months or eleven years or whatever. I'm TRYING to keep it within my age range or at least 10 years, which I guess a 30% success rate kinda sucks, but .... rowr.

I have things in common and preferences with both age groups that I've dated so far - well, the ONE man who I went out with (mostly a platonic basis) CLOSE to my age and the others who were... sigh... very much younger. I like youth and vitality. I like that there is a brightness and a newness in their vision of life, one not dulled by the harshness that experience imposes on us all. And there is a similar energy level with the more youthful suitors. But, with the ones that are older, there's a wisdom and a peace that you can only get from time spent on earth. There is understanding, and acceptance. And a calm that touches me. The same touchstones and landmarks are connections I like. So far, both sets of qualities have been mutually exclusive - not seen them all wrapped up in one package. Heh. But its been fun looking for it.

I am really hoping THIS is it. I've been struggling to get to this point, and I want this so badly to be it. So a piece of me can be restored. I think I am THEIR missing piece. And I'm enjoying being single a little bit, and I might even not hate North Carolina as much if this all comes together. I may have already jinxed it all by writing this - and dear god, I'm going to try and NOT think about it or homelessness, or the Chiefs going down the dumper against the Eagles last week.

You all got to get together and wish hard for this for me. I so want to be like one of you normal people, just a bit.

Archives

I figure it's time to at least update on the various and sundry things that has been going on.

FIRST AND FOREMOST, ONE OF MY SHIFT KEYS IS NOT BEHAVING. That is bugging the crapola out of me. sHIftS when its NOt SuPPOSed to and doesn't when it IS. And, boy I wish that was the biggest problem in my world. But, it wouldn't be Duhville if it were.

Let's start off with the zoo. Poor Milo is almost an invalid now. He barely can walk places and can't get up the stairs without assistance. I'm not sure that he is eating and he stinks to high heaven because he's a bit incontinent sometimes. I am on the borderline about putting him to sleep. I just don't know. I feel like I haven't done all that I can for him but, financially, I am unable to. I have been putting it off and putting it off. He's very old. The vet always said he would live about 10-12 years because of his size and breed. Well. He was born in 1998. I don't know. I am very torn about the deal - I feel like I'm selfish because there's ways I COULD help him, but I just don't want to spend the money, but the other part of me says 'you really don't have the money to spend' and then the other part counters, 'you have money to spend on gas or beer or xXx'.... See where I am on that?

Jakey is mobile, but I think blind in one eye and going blind in the other. He is a lot more mommy oriented. Almost to the point of being a piece of wardrobe. He's always been clingy but, now he's just always needing to touch me. He's going bald because of his itching/skin allergy but it's subsiding. And he might be losing his ever-lovin' mind. He's barking at, well, nothing. He sat by himself in the corner and barked at the wall. He forget the concept of a mirror, and thinks its another room, so i get the occasional THUD as he tried to enter this non existent room.

Poor bastards.

I, myself, have lost about 40 lbs. since January and 75 since leaving Wichita. I really think everyone would notice, because the last time I was this thin, I knew none of you. It was 1995 I think. Before Ken, before Velocity, before the Macshow/YML. And yes, I am eating - not often enough probably but eating mondo healthy when i do. And I have almost curtailed the heavy drinking (and the crowd goes wild) - any little partying has been weeks apart, and involves 8-10 beers. It's wasn't a conscious decision - I just got busy with other things. It's odd, I'm 42 now (SHOCK and AWE) and i may be healthier and have a better self image than I did when I was a hard body at 20 (yes I had one of those way back then, and a confused and erroneous outlook on life/self). In TWO weeks, TWO WEEKS, two WEEKS, I am LEGAL. Now whether I have the money to make it all official is another story. But, I can't believe it's all done and over with. But I really haven't thought about it much and it hasn't been a hinderance since I've been motoring to anywhere i want to go anyways.

What is the best is that stinking little red car out there, which by the way gets about 28-30 mpg (COOL), is mine. Titled, lock, stock and barrel, all mine.

I've been ignoring tax issues for a while now, but I really can't do ANYTHING about it without a job, and I rather remain off the grid until I can. Boy, I could use all that life insurance money that I blew right after Ken died. I wish i was thinking more clear back then. Everything was in so much flux and has stayed that way. I wonder if I prefer it like that or am I really unable to right the boat at the present time? I wonder all the time if I'm trying hard enough or I'm doing the right things. I have an interview Friday, and still apparently not out of the game for the interview I had a week ago. The interview a week ago was interesting. The company has eeked out its own niche and has been around since 1935 or something like that - but, ETS/Velocity was like that too before it had to shut it's doors. To get that position would mean me moving again, but to that very amiable area near or in the Winston Salem area, which has urban centers closer. Not only the bigger ones like Charlotte and WS/GB, but little cities (but still much bigger than Forest City) like Statesville, Kannapolis, etc. It's a flatter part of the state, and a lot like home, at least superficially.

I got so homesick the other day, I put a post in CrazyList in the Wichita personals section for people to chat with and cheer me up, maybe update me on what's what in Wichita.

I don't have enough fundage for another month of looking for something in my field. If I don't get anything in the next two weeks, I'll take ANY survival gig. Not that I haven't been looking - but there will be a lot more desperation in my search.

Along with the employment project, I've wanted to transition - I wanted few ties to this place, because i didn't want that psychological block or angst hindering what I need to do. I was casting out lines to Asheville and Charlotte for connection, networking, friends and so on. I have finally come to the conclusion that Charlotte and the surrounding area is much more suited to me. It's very much like Wichita, and there is a million things to do and see. There are a variety of people, and I'm not drowning in redneck and hillbilly backwash. Southern accents are only an occasional thing out there, I've noticed (thank god), and there is a goodly amount of transplants and sophisticates, so the range of people I've met (will meet) is wide and pleasing to me. And well, fuck a duck, there are just too many doorknob dumb hippies in Asheville - who don't think enough about the shit that comes out of their mouths. And I don't want to be the only one in any given room who has the sense of a sane person. That's just not me.

I have dated I guess a little. I have met a whole army of men from 19 to 54 who dig me - brain, bod, demeanor. I've picked out one or two to actually go out with and for the most part, it all has been pretty nice and eye opening. I'm desperately trying to stick to my age range, although i think i prefer men 33-38 - I know that's a big younger, but I've always been a bit younger in my head than my age would indicate. I still feel so guilty that I even am trying to explore this part of my life because of the mess the rest is in. But i think this is necessary - to try and make as many friendships/connections as it will help to pull me out of this place - at least this is my rationalization for it.

This weekend, I tried to watch the Chiefs play, but the disastrous game wasn't televised. But I would have had a great time watching it - thank god regular season is around the corner - I'll be able to actually SEE a game. I went footballing with a most decent and grounded guy I met named Ron. He's a transplant of course, and doesn't conform to any of my usual templates I have for men, other than being honest, intelligent, decent, and very sweet. He's one of the rare ones I know that is my age. We sports barred it on Saturday night, and had a very nice time.

I went to an open air concert at the Verizon Ampitheater with Ron on Sunday. Jack Johnson (http://jackjohnsonmusic.com/) played and it was phenominal. I had such a good time (actually had a wonderful time the whole weekend). I felt really warm and happy, even deep through to the core. It was the most relaxed I have felt in at least 9 months. I didn't feel like an outsider, I felt normal. I dreaded going back to Forest City. I physically felt a tightening of my chest and an ill feeling when I thought about going back.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=21648&id=100000305531147&l=086b11b53a

I have a nice date I finally got to happen Friday (after my interview) with a very quiet and sweet young (GOD, yes, shit. 31) man from Asheville. It's been a trial to get schedules to work out, but finally, it's going to happen.

And then I have the plethora of young men wanting that "cougar" experience. How did I become a cougar all of a sudden, and how did *I* especially get popular all of a sudden. I don't actively seek any of this. I hang out in my t-shirt, shorts, and runner's stank, and somehow draw in an army. The attention is new and a bit scary to me - and most of the time, kind of annoying. I've just recently come to grips with maybe thinking I am cute. So, folks, one step at a time or I'll faceplant it trying to run too fast or do too much.

I'm trying to remember anything else, it's been eventful for me this last month - I've felt a liberation and power I've NEVER known before. And a peace, and weirdly a wisdom and a circumspect attitude has taken firm, permanent root in my being now.

But. Hey. I've never forgotten any of you and love you more than life itself. Don't want to worry anybody, I'm still hanging in there.

And I can hear from you guys every once in a while, can't I? It's onlyduh at gmail dot com.

Kisses from North Carolina. And yes. I still hate North Carolina.

Archives

The dead arises, and now I am amongst the living.

The past 24 hours or so smacks of the same Homeric-like challenge I use to fight through in the beginning of this journey to the middle of the earth. So, in turn, I thought it was a good time to give a real update as well as regale you with the TALES of the SLIGHTLY TOUCHED!!

Been a long haul up till now, and I fumble for the iPhone to check the time/date/day since it all melts together in a swirling mess of colors and events recently.

I have been ACTIVELY and ROBUSTLY trying to make connections in Asheville and Charlotte. Networking a little, making some friends, I've been pushing myself to make that transition - to make threads real and to make them strong to the urban areas. The areas filled with more opportunity, dubiously charming young men, and weirder beer are for what I'm aiming. I'm beating the bushes for employment, making myself hang out with new and different people, and trying to have an enjoyable time doing it all.

Well. I ended up at one of my preferred establishments in Asheville - actually the only other bar I really know - the Root Bar. It was free pool and pie night - yes, pie. It's a dive hippy bar with one pool table and three sand courts for a screwed up game made up by the original owner and quite similiar in feel to a freaky hippy horseshoes called ROOTBALL. You have this ring called the root that you try to nail a post with - and then you want to hit it with a spikey yellow ball. I have since found out, that beaning your opponent gets you points, a fact that would have done them well to hide from me. There's a Root Ball anthem, tournaments, and enthusiasts. I played once. I ended up winning, and then picking sand out of my shoes and hair for about a week.

But I digress. I like the place, its laid back, has a band or two a week, a plethora of hippies and hipsters, but no TV for football. I can't yet abandon the Hole completely unless I find a very accepting sports bar in Asheville. The beer is weird, and costly compared to the Hole, but it keeps me from excessively drinking and subsequently doing something naked and/or stupid. Well. I went up there and had a meet up scheduled with one of the many scarily-YOUNG men I know. I don't think I got on well with the women (big fucking surprise there, huh) but I had a few that seem not to mind my company, and of course, I had a couple of attentive male patrons to converse with.

And there was free pie. Key lime pie with cool whip, to be exact.

I was drinking a pint or three of Blue Zombie ale? I do believe its called. And I think maintained a minimal level of decorum. And wonders of all wonders, I remember almost all of the night, which in itself, a feat of epic proportions. The night wears on, and I start on cokes and chips to ameliorate and soften my buzz. I crave waffles, the iHOP kind but was disappointed there wasn't a iHOP hut anywhere near, and settled for really greasy food at the Waffle House, which turned on me this morning like an old hot dog sitting in the sun at NASCAR. I wait a goodly amount of time to head off into the night, down the mountain and back home. I sit at the Waffle house and entertain the patrons and employees, of which I gain a temporary admirer who just shadowed me in his Spiderman T-shirt, putting the "moves" on me. He even, at one point, reached over and touched my hand and talked about the age of consent in North Carolina. It took all I had not to mock him incessantly. He was really a sweet kid, but GOOD GOLLY GODDAMN....

We late night Waffle Housers watched as a mildly ticked off Highway patrolman dropped off a family, blankets and camping acutremon in tow and I apparently ended up footing the breakfast bill for some dude next to me because, I'm sweet... and a little inebriated. It got later and later as I got more sober. So after as much fawning as I could take from Waffle House boy, I head off into the night to see if I couldn't navigate the 60 miles or so of road separating me and my Hee Haw hellish home. After about five minutes of driving, I decided I was just too tired to make the trek, and decided to pull over into a clown burger parking lot, maybe get some DP. I turned off the car.

The car stayed turned off. It would NOT start back up. I had plenty of gogo juice, it just would silently fail to turn over. I get out of the car and did the only thing I knew how to do in a situation like this, popped the hood, hiked up my shorty shorts, bend over into the engine and pretended to fiddle with it in hopes some knowledgeable young man would come over and rescue me. I did have people offer/try to jump start the car, but eventually gave up when the car refused to cooperate. It was the starter. A bad starter.

So I did more pretend fiddling with it until about 4:30 in the morning. It was TOO early in the morning to call friends for a place to crash - they'd have to sober up and come get me in a place I didn't even know where it was. I pushed the car into a parking space, locked the doors, kicked back the seat and start to nap restlessly until the sun came up. There was an Auto Zone and a Meineke across the road I had decided to beg help from, but apparently going across the street to look at my car would cause a rip in the fucking space time continuum and actually TRYING to HELP me would violate the oath the swore to uphold when they became unhelpful counter monkeys for uncaring corporate America.

I had made a decision. I was going to have Lil' Red towed back home. YES. Towed the 60 or so miles to Hee Haw. I made some calls and borrowed some money and arrange for a very nice tow guy to haul my poor, stupid bastard of a car back to Fucked-Up City.

By this time my head was pounding out the Flight of the Bumblebee, it was muggier than night time in the bad part of New York, and I was about ready to commit reverse Hari Kari on a massive number of random Ashevillians. After about an hour and half, we trucked the car to Rocky's Automotive where, indeed, he confirmed it was the starter - $340 to fix.

I'm lucky though. I have a very cool landlord and by the end of this week, maybe the beginning of the next, I'll actually HAVE the money to fix it. Rocky went ahead and started on it and said pay him when I can. I am down to the last little bit of income, and a little month reprieve from oblivion. I am 5 weeks away from totally legality, and I can't believe I waited it all out. I'll have a bit to get resumes, food and necessities although I'm hoping that the utility company can hold out the extra 4 days I'll need to pay them before shutting off the power .

I'm garnering a growing following of YOUNG admirers - I could open a day care at this point, and I am flying my the seat of my pants hoping that "it will work out" is not just any empty platitude. Things have gotten fairly eventful.

You can't say I have had a dull time of it. Sigh.

Archives

I'm almost totally disconnected to this little place. There are almost no threads left to Hee Haw, and I'm starting to resist it almost totally. And oh my fucking god, what a ride it has been. This has come about because this is Friday night, and I have NO DESIRE to drown in Bass beer down at the Hole. And it isn't bothering me.

I keep visiting Charlotte for interviews, lunch, what-not, and the more I go, the more I'm drawn to it. I think because is urban, and familiar filled with possibilities and progress. The people are different, and more cosmopolitan - but of course, you say - a bigger city is just going to have that, whereas a small rural town of 7,000 won't. I am drawn, I have made some friends, and some connections in Charlotte. I may even have a survival gig there. I figure I can live outside the city, and live cheaper there, out of the city crime and all but still have all the advantages of being in the city. I feel it is so over, this little part of the journey. Two months left till legality sets in, but that hasn't really be an impediment so far. That isn't even on my radar anymore. None of this seems to be real. When I am in Charlotte, or Asheville, for that matter, life seems real again. Here feels like I'm staring in bad rerun of Green Acres.

How the hell did I survive living, literally in the anus of North Carolina? Where butt dumb landlords figured that I didn't need to have heat in the winter, water that ran on a constant basis, or protection from an alcoholic reject from COPS with a fetish for nocturnal wanderings? Thank god for the Old Mill Tavern and self medication or I couldn't have survived most all of it. Pitbull attacks, skunk encounters, old doddery men stealing lawnmowers, broken tail pipes, fucking snakes, spiders the size of my head and all manner of plagues happening while I tried to figure out how to emerge from my dark cloud that I carry with me since December 9th, 2007.

Some of the shit was my own doing, some was from North Carolina trying to kick me in the ass. It nearly succeeded several times. I don't know if it all was suppose to teach me a life lesson, but who knows if I learned what I was suppose to. I am rather thick.

I'm inching closer to Charlotte, with baby steps. First friends, of which I have a few now. Next the gig which I will learn if I have next week. My money is down to the little bits of paper around the house, and with the kindness of a southern landlord, and the wings on my butt that are letting me fly by the seat of my pants, I think I'm making my way closer. I am anxious and excited. I feel young, I feel glorious and yes, I feel scared. Close to a life without regret, and closer to some really good Chinese food. I think I've made Chinese food as a symbol of my success. I will have made it, once I put a big spoonful of General Cho's chicken in my mouth that had been delivered to me by a spotty faced youth. I have never felt this way, and I don't think I've ever been THIS alone before. Because this ain't home, there ain't no safety net, and it's all me out on the wire. ALL this is me. Well, and the generosity of a handful of people giving me a hand up when I really needed it. But a fuck-ton of it was me. It's almost like I was sleeping beauty, and a kiss awoke me from a long, dreamless sleep. You wouldn't believe how close that analogy is to reality (Yes, I had a very nice lunch in Charlotte.)

I am pulling away from everything here. Everything. I feel the friendships here, fading away, even Jerry, my best friend down here. I think he understands though, I need to be out of here. There are some out here that take offense when I refer to this place in less than congenial terms - I use a lot of terms like inbred, hillbilly etc. They, in turn, have taken a distain to me. Well, FUCK a RETARDED DUCK? Have you looked around? Have you seen the populous, most of which couldn't make it as extras on the set of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"?? There are some very nice and normal folks around but I think if given half a chance, most of you mindless baboon people would kill and eat them. You reject me? Great googlie mooglies, you think that will make me feel at all distressed that you didn't want me to join the fucking freakshow to be one of the nit pickers and window lickers?

And it has made it easier to let go. The places I use to go, I feel no draw to. The people I've tried to accept, most I can't anymore. I don't feel lonely if I'm not among them all and I can't wait until the door opens for me permanently, to step out of the asylum. I like the ones I like, but it is so much easier to look beyond here. Distain from the individual who pointed out that I look down upon this place doesn't effect me at all. She doesn't understand at all because I asked her once, if she hated working where she worked so much and didn't like it here, why doesn't she leave? She said, "And go where?" She doesn't get it. I HAVE a place to go. I KNOW there are better places for me. And it's really easy for me to let go now. When you know you don't have to be trapped in hillbilly hell, YOU NATURALLY SAY, "OH CHRIST IN HEAVEN, YES, FREE AT LAST!!!" I'm close. I'm almost emotionally checked-out of this Bates Motel.

I am so grateful to the people out here who have helped me and were there for me. There was my cadre of dear friends and D who made this place bearable, who helped out Dorothy and three Totos survive the tornado. I'll never forget them but it's time for me to make the plans to go. I need to BLOW this popsicle stand. I don't ache for anyone, anymore, and I have no need to see anyone. It's time, though, for a nice summer rain so I can dance...

For some reason I have this on a loop: Anyway by Alicia Witt

Archives

Boredom and restlessness will get you into trouble.

I'm currently scurrying to shore up a hole in my boat. Money that I was COUNTING on won't be there, and I'm bailing water out of my little life canoe frantically right now. Should be interesting.

But I do have lulls in the crisis, and I've taken to leaving the door open to the world, so to speak. So, you may or may not know, I've kind of become hooked on reading the personals on craigslist ("missed connections" and "strictly platonic"), firing off a smart ass comment here and there, or maybe some helpful advice. It passes the time and distracts me from situations that would make me curl up in a ball panicking lately.

Well, from one experience of CL that became tangible, it made me wonder about what goes on inside a man's head. So, insomnia, boredom and bad judgment made me post this to CL:

Just bored. In one of those "it's complicated" situations. Wondering if anybody is in one of those "complicated" things? Not looking to hook up, more to just UNDERSTAND the male species. What goes on in your little minds?

Archives

Detestable Tuesday is over. And it was an all right day. Not really great, but I did see some friends, got free beers and ended up caveman-stupid drunk.

It was a extremely hot and muggy day. I was wondering why I was drenched in sweat when I finally reached the track yesterday morning. I just thought maybe since I was old and decrepit, one of the side effects of that was over abundant perspiring. No, it turns out it was about 80 or 85 when I start off my run, and I was just a stupid, stupid woman for trying to do a workout in this southern furnace. Today, my heels are killing me because they weren't use to the workout - I haven't really ran since last summer and although I am about 30 lbs lighter, my feet said "if you do this shit, we are gonna have to hurt ya." After my run yesterday, I was veggie-happy. Dopamine coursing through me, and I could only think in pictures. Talking to me at that point would be like talking to a small dog.

The weather is muggy and swings back from rain to heat. I don't mind but it just increase the population of the creepy crawlers and I can't STAND that. For some reason, I couldn't sleep last night and just stayed up for about 30 hours. So, I got home and zonked out for the afternoon. When I woke up, I had a passel of birthday wishes and three or four people paypaling me cabbage to help with my goal of getting stupid drunk from the last couple of days. And about 1/4 of that money I used for beer. The rest went for food and one or two extravagances that I allowed myself. Some really nice nail polish, and cup cakes.

I splurged on some good nail polish and redid my nails. A very nice, almost invisible pale pink. A nice expensive polish doesn't chip. I was amazed. Sometimes spending the extra money is worth it.

It wasn't a great birthday, but as I said, it was all right. I drank, and played a bunch of pool. I talked to some friends and hung out. I did overdo the eating and the drinking, to the point of not paying my tab. **HIC** heh heh. I was pretty much zombiefied today, waylayed by a handover, pittered around the house and trying to recover. I get to go back tomorrow, for a few more free birthday beers. I hope next year will be an outstanding birthday, maybe when I'm more stable, I'll be able to plan a better time. I'll get a nice little hotel room in Asheville, grab some select people and explore the city.

They say you are as old as you feel. I feel old. Although, its a different old feeling than the one I had back in November with D. This was more of an exhausted, spent, old feeling rather than the settling, mundane, slow thorazine drip type of old that I was back then.

Next week, I have interviews and, no kidding, I really have to score a survival paycheck. Maybe I'm just more tired than old. But I got through it, and now I'm 42.

***medic***

Archives

Happy fucking birthday to me, Happy fucking birthday to me, happy fu-- oh to hell with it.

So I'm old now, for about 5 hours now? Hmmm. I would take this time to reflect upon my life and accomplishments up to now, but I don't really want to depress myself so bad that I'd throw myself into a wheat thresher. About the most exciting thing I've done is feed a troll that hates me from Craiglist. I've taken to poking the monkeys on the "missing connections" section of it, and they, in turn have been flinging their virtual poo at me.



What have I done now that I'm...[obligatory HHGTG reference] the answer to life, the universe and everything[/obligatory HHGTG reference] ? I took my dubiously legal car to the big Wallymart and bought $50 worth of food - all veggies, salad and fruit. I figure if I'm going to be homeless and hungry soon, I might as well go out eating as healthy as I can. Besides, I've been needing to halt the dizzy spells and rapid weight loss I've been experiencing. I lost 10 more pounds this last two weeks since Duh-food fell out of the top five of the priority list.

I wheeled my squeeky little shopping cart around the totally deserted aisles of the superstore. All the employees were out in force doing whatever Walmart employees do at night when the norms are at home sleeping. Apparently a lot of what they do is make tremendous messes with boxes, and stare homicidally at late night redheaded shoppers. THEY BE SOME STARING MOTHER FUCKERS, MAN. Well, I fill my cart with apples, oranges, $8 worth of nectarines, salad stuff, and spaghetti making crap. I turned up the iphone and headed off to the only lane that was open.

The lady was nice enough, but she had one hand in a cast, so she was hunting and pecking the items in and using one of those elderly mechanical fingers to open the little plastic bags so she could anemically try and hoist the food into the bags. I had ONE person ahead of me, but she had forgot her pin number, so she spent the next 20 minutes calling god knows who to get another one. At this point, I didn't care if I waited, but I was starving. So while she sat ahead of me, blurting out a mea culpa every other minute to me, I ate a banana, drank a Sobe green tea (which was ORGASMICALLY good) and did my nails.

So. I get through the line after watching the poor broken handed lady slowly try and bag my crap. I really like late nights, there is noone around and usually the people who are around look like they are escapees from an asylum run by Tim Burton. It's a surreal time of night. I must be confident in my employment situation, because I bought a bunch of food, and not just the bare minimum to keep me vertical. I wheel my crap out to my car, and load the thing up, while three electricians in matching shirts who are standing around their truck watch me fumble with my bags.

(I'm trying to figure out if I really look 42. Looking at my jowls, sullen expression, void eyes, wrinkles and my broken spirit and nasty disposition. Yup, I'm that old nasty lady. I need a beer.... oh right, its 6 in the morning...)

I'm home now. I don't know if I have enough gas to go to Asheville, and when I get there, I only have about $10 bucks to spend. But we are GOING to do this, cause I need to get out of Dodge for a while, and it's my birthday - I'm willing to risk incarceration for a couple hours OUT OF THIS PLACE. Asheville is the place I fell in love with when I came out here. It really is a tonic for me. Wish I could take you all for a beer, because of all days, this is the day I would like to be with friends and have some fun. I've got about 2 bucks in the Rant beer fund and I'm going to use it to buy a nice little weird beer at the Lucky Otter tomorrow. Maybe get a nice southwest bean burrito and watch hippies go up and down Haywood Street.

I'll eventually come back home and go to the Hole with my little cupcakes and candles and have, what will be most sad little birthday celebration. A 42 year old woman with three cupcakes, celebrating her birthday at a Hee Haw bar. WHOO HOO.

But, as like last year, one thing hasn't changed. Not going to get laid on my birthday. But beer and a change of scenery for a while will be enough.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

Okay. It's not so bad....

Archives

I have had a very pleasant and remarkable weekend. Actually, my life and weeks lately have been very remarkable.

A friend I haven't seen for 6 to 8 months broke up with her boyfriend and called me up to go out yesterday. A little background for you all, its the girlfriend of Darryl's really good friend. I never called her because I didn't know how the whole friend division thing works when you break up. She really was a friend of Darryl's but we got a long very well. It was nice to hear from her and she wanted to go to the Hole, so I took her down.

We got free beers, saw many of my great friends, received weird propositions from freakshow folks and had a WONDERFUL time. She lives right next to her ex, and my ex apparently for the last little while has been just hanging out with her ex, getting ripped and high a LOT more than he used to. This evidently is a new behavior for him, and her ex isn't the best influence on anybody, so I kind of worry why he is really indulging in this very self destructive behavior. I really don't want him to do something that will harm himself but, the man is 48 and nobody can tell him what he should be doing. It's not my problem anymore. What is fucked up in a funny way (to me, at least) is that Darryl is always over at her ex's and that is two houses down from hers, so they both have been seeing me visit my friend. It just makes me laugh and slightly uncomfortable - I'm not real ready to resurrect that whole big bunch of bullshit. It took me a long time to get over it all. I do want to be there for my friend because we both really get along, and I like having friends my own age that aren't dumb as doorknobs.

I took her down and introduced her to all my friends and we just had a blast. And free beer, you can't beat that. Other friends had me over and fed me today. It was a lovely laid back evening out at their house and I like that. Plus, nothing beats eating actual food.

Next week, I have one interview so far, and maybe will be getting another. I am going to do my hard copy mailing of my resume and hope for the best. I'm SO excited, and admittedly, pretty scared, but in that "I'm going on the roller coaster called the BALL BUSTER" sort of way. I KNOW, and actually FEEL that I am eventually going to find a position - a GOOD position soon. I KNOW now that I'm looking pretty groovy these days because I had a plethora of compliments and come ons Saturday. I am getting BRAVER in driving my dubiously tagged car, although I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. I'll have to suck it up and drive, so I might as well just white knuckle it.

I really am feeling rather great these days, although tonight TWO of my shows go into the TV history bucket - LOST and 24. Right now, I'm waiting for them to upload so I can watch them. I hope that this isn't just me standing on the peak, one step away from a huge drop.

Next week is coming, and I'm, amazingly, looking so forward to it.

Archives

Short update. Company number one in Statesville is STILL doing first round interviews and apparently I'm still in the running. I have a Charlotte interview tomorrow, and a second interview for the Greer, South Carolina company.

And if cats really did this, I'd get one. Well. I've had one do it, but it was doing it to me at the time so, to amend that last statement, I want a cat that will do this to someone else.

Archives

This week is going by too slow. Only Saturday. I need Tuesday to get here. I need next week to get here.

It's hot and muggy in Hee Haw, and I like it. If not for the looming threat of no water/electricity, it would be a humdinger of a day. I'm suffering from the effects of free domestic beer last night. And it wasn't even me asking for beer. I was just playing pool, and playing very well. I held the table for about a total of 5 hours, with a break here and there, and people just kept asking me if I wanted a beer. Of course I said, "Okeedoke." I got to spend time with good friends - I was trying to alleviate some building stress from waiting on "the call" from the company I interviewed with. I got to tell the interview story to a bunch of people. I think back now on it and it seems to me I might have seemed like I was bragging - I hope I wasn't. I wasn't trying to, I was just excited. And nervous. And scared. And freaking. So beer, pool and friends is about my only option to decompress these days. I want to start running again, but I have a big blow out in my only pair of running shoes I got for my birthday, so I need another pair of those. And I need to get up way early now to beat the heat. Plus eating more would be a plus, so I don't pass out at the track. I've been sort of lazy these days, and I need to get more motivation. I've been on this employment project thing and its been taking my time.

My laptop battery might be a little screwed up. The battery icon has been "calculating" the percentage of charge left for the past 8 hours, and the thing is plugged in. I have a Budweiser headache. I hate drinking domestics. Absolutely hate it. But when they are free, you learn to adapt.

I need to be a redhead again. Now I am almost blonde with salt and pepper at the roots. It sorta blends in but, really... bleh. That happens Tuesday, too. Maybe some food.

This interview/job. This thing has been clawing at my brain. I have officially let myself want this BADLY. I am really wanting it and I'm really stressing about it. Trying not to show it because people will be pissed that I'm obsessing on it. I am really trying to forget about it. I'm trying to remember if I don't get this, there will be OTHER interviews. I just can't help thinking, "Nope. This is it for a while. This is the only people who will want me. OMG, Kill me I'm a failure". Yup. I'm that much of an asshole. Part of me is so confident, I'm thinking about how I will use all that extra money I will have. Pay my taxes, buy food, take care of the dogs. Part of me is SO confident that I spent a good three or four hours designing this new tattoo I'm thinking of getting:

This is a phoenix. I never have something on my body that doesn't mark some BIG milestone in my life. This would be a phoenix rising again. Simple symbol of me overcoming all this bullshit for the last year and a half. The bullshit that I created, the bullshit that has been served to me, things I never thought I'd get over, things I never thought I get through. I'm putting it on the side of my upper thigh. That's about the only good place, because I need to make good use of white space. My art are stand alone pieces so I can't put the bird near the spiral or the frog. Yeah, I'm that anal. And OCD.

At the same time I'm making plans to send checks and paypal friends, the other part of me is imaging me eating dog food, and living in a driveway with my dogs in the car whilst I sell oranges on off ramps for income.

I think I'll spend the day banging my head against the wall until I can make the voices stop.

Archives