Life Made Simple @ MindSay

HUGE RANT WARNING

I know this is a rant, but if I don't disclose it all here, I'm going to explode.

The week has made me want to take a dose of shotgun mouthwash. Worst of all, it's not even over. I was scheduled to work Thursday thru Sunday until I got a call at 9 PM on Tuesday by a manager, being asked to close for a sick co-worker. I needed the tips so I went in. I wasn't told literally none of the closing duties had been done. Needless to say, I was there until 3 AM. I stayed up literally all night on Wednesday night to help my Fiance study for a test she needed to pass, in order to pass the semester. I got about 2 hours of sleep today, Thursday, before going in to for my closing shift at work, getting out at 3:30 AM because it was extremely busy due to homecoming week. I have classes tomorrow that I have to attend if I want any chance at succeeding this semester. I also have to work the 8 hour closing shift tomorrow through Sunday. I get paid tomorrow but it has to go straight to pay rent and bills.

That's not even the half of it, though. My Fiance's sister, who is up to her eyeballs in debt for a car she couldn't afford, and her boyfriend are staying the night at our apartment tonight because they didn't pay their electric bill. Speaking of electric bill, let me interject here, I pay the one for our apartment, and yet I get yelled at when I tell people they need to turn off the lights, computer, TV, etc. when they're not using them, and furthermore, the repairman from our realty company came today, without warning, and winterized everyone's A/C and pilot-lit their gas heaters in our entire complex. It was 80 degrees outside today. I was about to burn down the Realty Office, to say the least, if I didn't have to go to work. It made me decide not to renew the lease when December comes. I will be looking for a small house to rent.

Anyway, I was told they would not be staying another night, but not because my Fiance told them they couldn't, it's because my Fiance's younger brother is coming down to visit for the homecoming game and "we" promised him a place to stay.

I'm pissed off at this for a few reasons. I was never formally asked about any of this. It was always "(Fiance's sister's name and boyfriend) are staying here tonight" and "It's okay if (Fiance's little brother) stays here for the game, right? I don't want him to stay with (Fiance's sister and BF) because they might smoke pot with him there."

Interjecting again, this ties into something else I realized. All my "friends" here are actually just friends by association of my Fiance. I really don't have any friends in this city. But it pisses me off that the largest social gatherings here happen while I'm working, and I'm tired of being lied to that "they're you're friends, too." They never voluntarily initiate conversation, electronically or physically. A recent weekend when my Fiance went out of town, I spent the entire weekend working, sleeping, and cleaning. Not a single "friend" of mine ever contacted me or showed up at the door the entire weekend.

Back on subject, my answer should have been: No, they're not staying here. They still fucking owe us money. I don't give a shit. AND Who cares? I like to smoke pot. Maybe he does as well.

A small note, here. I do smoke marijuana occasionally. I am very sensitive to it, unlike my Fiance, who doesn't get a high from it at all. Even with shwag, it only takes me a few hits to feel good. My Fiance and I got into a related argument over it this weekend. She's fine with me smoking, but doesn't want it anywhere inside our apartment. I can understand this, but I believe I should be allowed to keep a very small amount for personal use. I'm not going to lie. I feel much less depressed and more energetic for days on end after I take a few hits of something. I'm just going to have to concede that she doesn't understand it as I do and get over it.

To sum it all up, here, I'm just feeling used, rushed, fractured, and I'm literally sick (flu) on top of it all right now, and I hope it'll get better.

Poison free, now living life so pure.
Tell me, have all your addictions been cured?
When you mark your fist, what's going through your mind?
Is this your new fix?
Ensnared again, confined.

Transference of one addiction to another, you haven't solved a thing.
All you've done is change the game you've been playing.
Different equipment, the rules are the same - the goal remains unscathed.
Just looking for acceptance and the power that it brings.

Push your self to higher heights - rise above the herd.
Straightedge isn't the answer if the decision isn't yours.
Push your self higher.
Think about the life you live.
Have your standards been met?
Or have you rooted yourself - cemented in and set.

Projection of your addiction to another; the mind is a powerful tool.
Consume a symbol you've now become addicted to.
Just one of the pack with a pat on the back, marked fist finger in the air.
Tell me would you, tell me could you, if your friends were not there.

This is my choice; I made it, I live by it.
My life is my own.
This is my choice; I made it, I live by it.
Are you in control?

Sometimes it takes a while for me to get the simple things in life, the things I pray my niece is not tortured or punished with and instead walks around or away from instead of allowing it to strangle her as it almost did me. This week made me reflect on a road trip shared with daddy, myself and my brother after breaking my collar bone. After driving for two hours and listening to a baseball game on the radio my father finally heard my attempts to silence tears as my brother tortured me in the back seat of dads Volkswagen bug. Instead of simply telling my dad hey, this guy keeps pinching me on the same arm I have in a soft cast I sat in silence and cried. Honestly I wanted to punch him in the face but I couldn't reach him with my good hand and my parents recent lecture on tattle tales left me in a sticky situation. Hmm what to do I do.

I found myself back in that Volkswagen bug, this one grey not yellow and my tortures being more than just my brother. What do I do. My main complaint was the pregnant co-worker placed on light duty within out office and given the spot I thought I would have sooner than later, but now she has also taken my s

eat and the co-workers on my own shift made a joke out of it. Its taken me a long time to get to the point in my life where I don't just let things come out of my mouth anymore, IF I SAY IT NOW I MEAN IT! I am not saying sorry, if I even think I may feel bad about it later then don't say it. So I sat in the back of the car (the room) once again and asked myself why I found myself in this position again. From an outsiders position you could easily ask is it an office, yes. Are there assigned desk, no...but 6 out of 8 employees have drawers in the office and when I say office desk I mean I have everything in my drawer from my Bible, candles, hand lotion, money, utensils, magazines ,tea, aspirin....I everything was not only neat and orderly it was mine. The last draw came as I watched her pull the drawer open lean back and relax her feet on my belonging. I don't think she did this intentionally, but it didn't matter. I moved all my things and placed them in a hallway locker also supplied by the department.

There is a part of me that feels like I punk'd out and there is another part that reminds myself that there is no dad driving the Volkswagen. There is noone to turn around and give her a nice ass whoop in. This is one of those times where as stupid as it always sounds I needed to be the bigger person.

I like to read personal ads. Not really with intention of answering them, but out of simple interest. The other day I found one that was for a "sugar daddy." He was looking for a young thing to take care of. It wasn't quite as sick as it sounded, in fact it almost reeked of desperation. It was sad.

I wanted to know what it was about. I put on my best naive face and sent an email. His response was kind of interesting. Sarcastic dude, maybe slightly arrogant. He was looking for his soul mate it seemed. It made me frown that he thought being a sugar daddy would get him a wife. That aside, his entire email made him seem pretty likable, aside from a few snide remarks.

He closed the email with, "I have a 6 figure income and I just won a quarter mil playing the lottery. Are you for me?"

When you're asked what would you do with a million dollars, it's hard to not simply imagine the possibilities. My school would be paid off. I wouldn't even need to go to school, but I am not that lazy. Be able to do and have all those things you've always dreamed about... riding horses every day. Signing up for useless classes. Weaseling your way into the boring crowd, pretending to laugh over wine, trying hard not to insult the surrounding stupidity.

It all seems very lavish. And boring. Never a struggle, ever again. Don't assume I didn't have a hefty talk with myself about the outcome. By the end of the talk I laughed at myself for even considering it.

Today, we walked into Barnes and Noble. There is a double door entrance. We opened the first door and realized a putrid smell. Through the second doors, we saw a man who hadn't showered in possibly weeks. Opening the second door was almost a dare.

He stood in the front of the store, with a B&N shopping bag in hand. He was wearing all black. His face was scruffy, but he didn't have a beard. He wore leather, which added to the smell -- perhaps that of cow hide that had once been soaked, and was in the process of drying. I wondered what he was staring at. He had already made a purchase. Maybe he was just standing there to feel the pressures and securities of four surrounding walls. A glass window that we, perhaps, take advantage of on a daily basis -- how thick was this glass to him?

The silence was deafening. He was the center of the world; a harsh, cold, disgusting, core. He was the truth we long so badly to ignore. The smell infiltrates our nasal passages, but we cover it up with cologne. I reach into my pockets. All I have is my phone. I pull at my sweater, it's too small. The hat didn't belong to me. My wallet is at home, on the night stand. And because of my cast I only had one shoe on. He already had two different shoes. My feet were probably too small anyway.

On the way out, we notice he is smoking. He has some type of financial source. I think of the groceries that are in our car. We buy for our eating disorders: there is no way a car full of anoretic "safe foods" would make a difference in his life. I am hit with disgust once more.

His screams echo through my head, not for help.

He screams at us all to wake the fuck up.

The little things in life are what makes me happy.  I don't need much.

I've always remembered my mom sitting in the living room, when we were little, with this "do-hickey" attached to the coffee table.  She would take hard boiled eggs and push them through, and it made the best, chopped eggs for the Egg Salad!!  I've wanted it for a loooong time.  It's made of heavy metal and screws on the edge of the table, counter or bar.  Too cool.

Guess what....I made Egg Salad today!!

 

 

Enjoy as much as I do!