big brother

I've never been one for conspiracy theories or whining about the government's invasion of privacy, but I'm beginning to rethink my naivety.  Maybe they know more about me than I thought. . .

While registering to apply for state jobs, this was my captcha:

All DP?  As in All Dr Pepper?   That's me alright.







Then I ran into this:

 

Excuse me?  First of all, why can't  it contain a dictionary word?  Its called a password, not a passnonsensestringofcharacters.

Second, "julio" simply cannot be a common password, let's be honest.  So it must violate the dictionary rule, right?  But what dictionary are they using?

2 hours later: I've finally registered but my password is more complex than a DNA double helix.

And here's a picture of my dad putting a skirt on Julio to calm everyone's nerves:

Scar tissue that I wish you saw? Not so much...

I have scars.  Mistakes? Expressions.
Lots on my thighs. *Sigh.*
Many, mostly faded, on my inner left arm (thank you summer '08).

Then there are there recent ones. The ones that still feel like friends.  Friends who made mistakes, who I'd like to hug and comfort, and say, "try again."
My angry broken window mistake...

That mistake that cost me so much, but showed me how far people would go to care for me. I don't deserve them.  My mom.  An angel.  I could never compare to her.  She started out wanting to be the best, to do the best, to do RIGHT. And she did. It's unspeakably brilliant and selfless and Christ-like and I couldn't ask for a better example.

Now how about the left arm? The arm that met the fate of the iron in a dismal fit of self loathing.

This is the real crowd pleaser it seems.  Children cry "a boo-boo!" I say yes, "a boo-boo..." Sigh.

Oddly enough, plenty of adults mention my scar as well.  

One woman asked if it was a spider bite, as it resembled her friend's reaction to a spider bite.

 Others just ask what happened.  I suppose some would consider this rude, but I've been so desensitized to such thing I don't even recognize it.

Today, a couple in my line mentioned my scar.  I continued going through the motions, but he said something shocking..."I know you went through something bad, but now they're like fallen flower petals."

Through pain comes strength, and strength is beautiful.

shadowbox your ears

My parents are fairly anti-stuff, especially stuff I can afford, so finding good Christmas presents is difficult.  This year my dad got a Weird Al cd and bumpons.  Awesome, right?

My mom's present was a few days late but turned out pretty nice.  When I was home for Thanksgiving I found a box of my grandpa's medals from his time in the Army Air Corp, so I borrowed those and a few pictures and arranged them in a shadowbox for her.

Here's a close-up of the inside:






































I tried a few different mounting techniques with a mat board background but ended up using some heavy scrap fabric and painting it black.  Its not perfect and as I continue to learn more about framing I may steal it back and re-work some parts.  But for now, voila.

with my mind on my money and my money on my mind

I hate money.

More specifically, I hate my dependence on money and my seemingly constant deficiency.


I know that I am a spoiled/blessed American who doesn't truly understand what it means to go without something I need, but that knowledge does not make it any easier to open my mailbox and face the reality of balances and due dates and expiration notices.

I'm not asking to be a kept woman, I would simply like the opportunity to work hard, doing something I feel good about, and earn enough to pay the bills.

My one-year anniversary at my current job is in a few weeks, and I can honestly say that I like my job. Some days are bad, I let it stress me out too much, but all in all, I like it.

I don't make much. After four [small] raises I am still making significantly less than I was at my last job. Still, that's not a problem. The inconsistency in scheduling is my nightmare, going from 30-something hours a week to fourteen and having no security even in that is killing me.


I need to make more money.
I need new health insurance.
I need to go to the dentist.
I need new contacts.
I "need " a lot of things. My highest concern at the moment is the extreme pain coming from someplace behind my eyes. Therefore, goodnight.

I never claimed to make sense after 2am

Its been a weird day. Submitted as evidence, my mental soundtrack:


Livin' in a powder keg alright...


I've gotten the opportunity to practice patience and grace at work recently, but I haven't. Note to self: passive aggressively griping to coworkers is still acting in anger.


I feel the need to connect, but my life seems like a series of near misses. Whenever I figure out the rules, somebody changes the game. Stupid health insurance.

I still exist

3 weeks sans blogging? The maddness...

I can't be late to work, so here's whats up, in bullet points (because seriously, who doesn't love bullet points?:

-->

• I went to New Orleans with Epoch and some fine folks from FBC Sparkman. [Grant's pictures are better, so go here.]

• I was re-introduced to the fabulousness of Sherrill Moffet, wife of the great E-Moff.
• I feel asleep on a porch with Ronald McDonald.
• I played frisbee and ate beignets with the Bernsons. They do my heart good. We also discovered a tiny gnome village in City Park.
• I hammered some nails, moved some walls, and saw perhaps the greatest invention ever:
  
  
  

• Started taking Pristiq on August 10^th. So far so good.
  
  
• My parents celebrated their 34^th wedding anniversary. My sister and brother in law celebrated their 7^th.
  
• I stuck a blank cd in my Blazer and it freaked out. For the past week its been constantly trying to eject something and flashing :check cd” on the screen. No worries though, I fixed it last night. [yesi’mawesome]
  
• I met the guy who lives below me at the laundromat in NLR. A few days later re-met his girlfriend and we all raided the newly vacated apartment across from mine. Yay for free curtains and paint.
  
• My cell phone spazzed out right before the NoLa trip, so I had to get a ghetto go-phone and switch my sim card. I’m mildly sad about losing the phone, but I really miss my calendar, camera, mp3 player, and alarm clock. It was my everything and I’m pretty much lost right now.
  
• Finally got to see Falcon Scott play...very entertaining/impressive.
  
• On the same night I was introduced to Futuro Boots and my life might never be the same...

I'm sure I missed some things, but stupid work and their stupid obsession with being on time requires that I make haste.

I miss my Ellen.

I'm need new TOMS.

The End.

2 weeks = 14 days = 336 minutes = ...

I saw my doctor tuesday, aaaaand he's taking me off my medicine. Technically I'm switching but since I've been taking an MAOI, I have to go two weeks without anything.

Begin freakout...now...



Two days down, twelve to go. Things are going ok so far, except for a massive headache I've been fighting all day.

Another fun fact: I don't have another day off til next Friday (what???)


thanks hugh

only 5 more days

Unfortunately, for me, this means added stress at work.

• more cranky customers (but several nice ones too)
• more people who want specific prices but don't plan to place an order
• ridiculous marketing strategies implemented by someone who probably never took a marketing course
• production and sales goals set by managers who have not worked in framing and have little to no grip on reality

Its the last two that really make it hard. All morning I thought, "I'm probably going to lose or quit my job today." I spent the majority of my lunch in tears, releasing the stress that'd built up over the short four hour morning. The afternoon was better (thanks Ativan) and I'm off tomorrow, so I might make it through the week...

Its worth pointing out that I have amazing coworkers. I literally thank God for them. Encouragement, patience, helpfulness, etc... Without people like this I'd end up on aisle 19 in the fetal position whimpering. And nobody wants to see that.

So, 60% off week...get it while you can, but remember to be nice to your framers...

honesty and awkwardness

Never before have I had so many questions and comments concerning my scars as I have since starting my current job. I guess partly it is because many of these scars are only a year or so old, but it is also due to more exposure. I spend much of my day using my hands to show people their options. Somehow this gives them the right to ask personal questions.

Usually I laugh it off and talk about how clumsy I am (which is not a lie). If they push for specifics I blame a stray piece of glass, a neighbor's cat (who moved 6 months ago), or something else to that effect.

It has crossed my mind that some of them must know, but I choose not to think about it. This week I realized that these are the people who don't ask questions, who stick to socially acceptable topics.

Except her. I don't know her name or anything about her, but she's a hero to me. . .

She was looking for a plaque, the metal kind you can get engraved. I told her we didn't have anything like that but was able to point her to a few local trophy shops. She mentioned she was from out of town and not very familiar with the area, so I gave her the phone number of the nearest one. She thanked me and left.

In 10ish minutes she was back. She spoke quietly, asking if she could talk to me. I agreed, knowing this had nothing to do with framing or anything else in the store. She said she'd noticed the scars on my arm and very emotionally told me about her friend's suicide the week before (the reason she was in town). She showed me her friend's picture and urged me to get help and to know that things will get better. Looking back, I can think of so much I could/should have said, but at the time all I could do was whisper thank you and try not to let my tears catch the attention of my boss, who of course was not too far away.

How many times have I suspected, or even known, that a stranger was hurting and done nothing? How many times have I ignored the obvious pain of my friends? Only because the truth is ugly, awkward, and makes us all more vulnerable. This girl is a hero for seeing the value of Truth above what may be uncomfortable.

my ethical dilemma

Let's say I cut myself at work. I sloppily stick a bandaid on it but stick a few more in my pocket to redo when I have a minute. But that minute never comes, and I ended up leaving with the bandaids in my pocket. . .

Am I stealing from work?


[This is what I pondered as I was re-bandaiding a few minutes ago]



That is all. As you were.

Il pleut

I need sunshine. I'm blaming my mood on the grey sky, although I suspect there is more to it. . . like work, lonliness, poor sleep. Unfortunately, these (especially the last two) will only become more challenging if my mood does not improve.

Is there a chapter in the Boundaries book on work? I need to review it.

Part of me wants to scream and pound on things, but really I just don't have the energy.




I toured some historic homes today with my mom.


I don't work again until Friday. My goal is to leave my apartment at least once, every day. We'll see.

grumble grumble passive-aggressive grumble

What's the point of setting up your availability...



...if they're going to schedule you whenever they please?


So last Thursday I checked my schedule, and again, my boss had me scheduled to work on a tuesday night. I mentioned it to her that night, so she would have plenty of time to find someone else...

To cover my back, I reminded her last night. And for the record, I was super respectful and non-demanding when I mentioned it, but what I got in return was a blank stare. She mumbled something about calling so-and-so and said she'd let me know before she left (which was around 5). At 9:30, when I clocked out, I still hadn't heard from her.

Fast forward to noon-ish today...I'm finally asleep, and my phone rings. I was expecting a call from the guy in framing, so I actually answered, but it was my favorite boss instead. Here's roughly how it went:

"Hello?" (trying to sound awake)

"Yeah, I was about to call so-and-so about working tomorrow, but I already had her scheduled to close in framing. You were scheduled to work the truck."

[long pause while I try to figure out why she's telling me this...She could have me scheduled to dress up like Cricut and dance the night away in the scrapbook aisle if she wanted, but not on Tuesday nights.]

"Um, well, I still can't do it..."

"Ok I'll just mark you down as absent." What?? Wait...I'm not even sure what that means really, but its not good. And its super shady.

"Ok...Is there anything I can do to prevent this from happening in the future?" I was waking up and getting my assertive pants on.

"Is it marked on your availability?"

What I wanted to say: "Of course it is, we've been over this. In fact, its been set up like this since the day I started."
What I said: "yes."

She said something about checking it and making sure, blah blah blah, should fix it, blah blah...goodbye.

First of all, this shouldn't keep happening.

Second, quit acting like its my fault. I'm following the system.

Also...double standard! I'm expected to do my job and do it on time, but she can blow things off until its pretty much too late to fix it?



In the grand scheme of life, this is so not important, but right now it makes me want to tape her picture to my punching bag and attempt to knock some sense into her.


Edit: She just called to see if I could work tomorrow night "since I couldn't work tonight." (Doesn't she mean "since I jacked up your schedule?")
My answer: Um, no. I can't.
I have a hot date with this kid:




But why do I feel so guilty?

uglies

Apparently I can make any job stressful.

Opening my paycheck friday was incredibly depressing, especially after working 9 hours with no break/lunch. I'm working myself to death, and its not even enough to pay the bills. Christmas presents? Sorry guys, not this year...

I need to learn when to say no, and how to stop.

I can't feel like its a personal failure when we don't have two-toned, distressed-edge rice paper.

I need about 12 more hours of sleep, and some time just to be still.

Laundry, dishes, groceries...just the basics are overwhelming. Then I see all the different sign-up sheets at church, and that voice in my head calls me a hypocrite for talking about loving my neighbors, but not really making that happen (A shameful, opposing voice asks if I can enlist volunteers to help me).

Sometimes I forget how badly I want to please everyone, this job is making it very evident.

Mystery pants and more scattered thoughts

I might be losing my mind (which, yes, I realize, is nothing new, but really...)

Saturday night after work I stopped by Academy Sports to get another black short-sleeved polo for work. I also bought some bummy sweat pants since my apartment can't stay warm for more than 30 minutes. I don't remember if I put them on that night or the next day, but I remember wearing them off and on all weekend (I was a bum, sorry). I even remember thinking that they didn't fit as well as I'd hoped. . .
At least I thought I remembered wearing them. . . When I was cleaning us a few minutes ago and I pulled the polo out of the bag and there were the pants.

Did I dream about wearing them?
Did I put them back in the bag (under the shirt) and completely forget about it?
Am I crazy?




In other news, I actually work a lot this week (more than 20 hours anyway). I really don't mind work most of the time. I'm getting to know the store a lot better and Saturday I actually did a return without screwing anything up.

Days off are nice, but I'm not sure they're good for me. I find myself slipping into blue moods easily, ruminating over the past few months, and becoming anxious about all things future.

I've noticed this happening again. I was moving forward, but now that terror in the back of my mind screaming "run away!" is getting louder and harder to oppose.

Sleep is as fickle as a seventh grade girl. Some nights I'll only wake up once or twice, other nights I lie awake half of every hour.


For the old days:

what a week, part 1 (of 1?)

This is long, but its been a week worth talking about (in my little world at least).


Let's got back in time...

Monday (November 17) started a 3 day trip that I didn't ask to experience. It didn't hit til I left my apartment around 2. Driving to Wal-Mart never took that much effort before. I felt drugged, disconnected, a mess...The chaos of Wal-Mart didn't help, my head was floating one minute and spinning the next. I got my shopping done and went home, not really concerned, more annoyed. I went to work, but just driving, again, was a challenge. Every few moments I had to stop and refocus, ask myself where I was. Not surprisingly, work didn't go well. I ended up leaving early (but managed not to have a complete breakdown next to the pipe cleaners and pompoms).

Tuesday I didn't actually left my apartment til 7ish (some could say its laziness, I call it recovery/survival). Again, compeletely disconnected.

Wednesday my mom was here, so I actually got out around lunchtime, but no change. We were trying to cross the street to go eat and I nearly walked in front of several cars. My mind couldn't complete the process of stop, look, wait, time it, then go. A few hours later I called my doctor and he said to cut my sleep meds to a fourth of what I'd been taking. My current dosage wasn't working that well, so cut back that much scared me.

Wednesday night was not good (obviously). I was overwhelmed with anxiety about going back to work Thursday night...what if I still felt bad? What if I freaked out in the middle of everything? What if this never went away?

(ok, quick[ish] background: awhile back a friend told me a local venue had a TWLOHA event on its calendar for November 20th. I was a little suspicious because it wasn't on the TWLOHA official calendar them, so I posted something about it on a forum and was told (by official folks) that they didn't have an Arkansas events planned. So I dismissed it as a weird mistake on the clubs website. And of course, when my boss called and asked if I could work that night I said yes.)

Back to Wednesday...I was bumming around on the internet and ended up looking at TWLOHA's calendar, and there it was...Little Rock, AR: Purpose for the Pain tour with Between the Trees performing and Rene Yohe, author of Purpose for the Pain, speaking.

I was mad...and sad...and frustrated...disappointed...on top of all the anxiety I was already feeling about work, drama/worrry about insurance stuff, etc etc etc...it was too much. Emotional overload. Although I've been getting better, every day takes so much effort just to stay on this side of the line, to keep trying. Constantly forcing myself to cling to hope left me inable to deal with it, no matter how trivial a little dissappointment may seem.

I couldn't even cry. I sat, squeezing my eyes shut, and just kind of shut down. I lost what tiny piece of hope I had.

So I went to bed. Sleep came and went, but as always, time eases pain and helps one regain a better perspective.

Part 2, "a Thursday I didn't expect," coming soon...maybe...