Hostage

This post was inspired by a recent post of Thordora's. (I just noticed it said "Thoradora" and not Thordora. Silly me.)

The black ball-- it's always there... maybe the size of a pebble sitting in the pit of my stomach, filled with all the hate and rage I've ever felt just begging for the right moment to be released. It's the evil little voice that makes me tear others apart, when I think of how disgusting morbidly obese people are, or how I hate those stupid skinny rich wenches that get everything handed to them and have never had to work or think for anything. It's the part of me that forms no attachments and knows that I could just walk out the door with whatever money I could get my hands on, a change of clothes and a stack of CDs, and just drive and never look back. The part that hates my little brothers for being weaker than me and succumbing to my dad's delusions in the midst of his illness, for giving him the ammo he needed to leave my mom and leave me feeling like I had to always be there for her and protect her from herself.

When I get angry it grows and grows from a leaden ball in the pit of my stomach to a black rage that envelops my entire body and holds sanity and reason hostage, that makes me scream and shove and punch and claw viciously at my own arms to avoid reaching out and tearing the skin off of the person that I am angry at. Anger is so completely insufficent to describe how I feel in those moments. It's an absolutely mindless rage. Murderous. I feel like a hostage when it takes over-- I am sitting inside myself watching and screaming myself raw trying to stop, to calm down and walk away. It takes every ounce of my strength to get it under control and I am exhausted once the ordeal has passed. Even when things are fine and I have no reason to be angry, I can feel it smoldering, waiting for the right time to escape.

Things have gotten better. I am taking medication and reason and sanity are much louder and firmer, holding the rage at bay. But still, I feel it sitting there, waiting. Waiting to drag me down again. Each time it gets worse-- blacker and stronger. I fear that one day, it will devour me, and I will be left as nothing more than a timebomb waiting to explode, a mindless hate that will destroy everything in its path.

--dragon Read more!

Little Things

I got a pair of shoes today-- brown and light aqua blue skate shoes on sale at Payless for only $7!!! Two of my favorite things, new shoes (am I the only person who absolutely loves the smell of new shoes?) and great prices! yay!

I convinced Erik to look for another job. I had to indirectly threaten to kick him out to get him to do it, but he is finally looking for one. I really hope he keeps it up until someone actually hires him. The other day we went to McDonald's and I asked for an application for him, and he flat out refused to apply at fast food. That really pissed me off. I work at Taco Bell, and I am far more qualified than he is. I can be a receptionist, secretary, direct care staff, management, retail, cashier/ teller, and probably more than that. He has very few skills, namely direct care and cashier, and it really irritates me that he thinks he can be choosy. I asked him if he thought he was better than me, and he said no, he was just better than them. So I told him he was not better than anyone, and he'd better get off his high horse, because right now I could care less whether he likes his job. Right now anything that offers a steady paycheck is the goal. Hopefully he can find a job other than fast food, but if no one hires him, he better suck it up and take whatever he can get. I know that's gonna be a fight if it comes down to it, but I pray it doesn't come to that. I may even have to get a second job, and that is incredibly hard for me, considering that I get so tired working a full shift right now. If I had to work more than 8 hours, I don't know if I could pull it off. I hope things get better. I can't stand the constant fear of "one more thing".

--dragon Read more!

Some Different Things

Let's start with the good things that have happened the last few days.

I have been trying to get a cell phone for a while but with my credit and history with a certain cell phone company, and the fact that cell phone bill costs are absolutely criminal, I haven't had any luck. My only options would be a prepaid cell phone or a local wireless company that offers unlimited minutes (local and long distance), text messaging, etc. for $45 a month, with no credit check!, which is what I've been wanting to do. The problem has been that although their plan is awesomely cheap, you have to pay full retail price for the phones in order to sign up with them. My best friend had them for the last few months, but she travels a lot and while the plan is great, the service area is not as good as the national carriers. So a few days ago she and her fiance' added her to his plan and she got a new phone. And best of all, she's going to give her old phone to me! yay! Now I can think about getting rid of my rediculous $100/mo. land line bill.

Also very awesome: my mom and stepdad got me a crib and a stroller. They got them used, but the crib is rather new and does conform to current safety standards (I checked) and the stroller is in great shape and as far as I can tell, also conforms to today's standards. So yay! Now I actually have some baby stuff!

Lastly, we are pet sitting for my best friend this week, and her cat and my cat absolutely love each other. They are totally fun to watch, although they're kinda rambunctious at night.

And here's for the bad news:

We finally got Erik's car in to the shop and they replaced the catalytic converter and a gasket in the exhaust system, as well as unclogging the exhaust. Unfortunately, they found the problem that started it all-- a crack in the rear exhaust manifold. So we have to get our hands on a new manifold (the only one the guy at the repair shop could find was around $270 and I found them online for about $130, so he told us to buy it online and then he'll install it), and then pay the $170 for labor to have it installed.

On top of the troubles with Erik's car, I filled up the gas tank 2 days ago and started smelling gas when I was driving. I already had an appointment at the repair shop to look at my brakes, so I took it in and told them about the gas smell too. It turns out I have a leak in the gas line, and that needs to be replaced, as well as the front brakes and the rear wheel drums (?), which will cost about $360.

So between the two of us, neither of our cars are really working (Erik's is drivable but the more we drive it the worse the problem is going to get), and it's going to cost more than $650 to get them both fixed. Sucks Sucks Sucks.

On the plus side, I think I was finally able to convince Erik to get a job that's going to give him more hours, because I sat him down and added up all his hours for each week (he gets his schedule for the entire month all at once, lucky him) and it added up to about 36 hours for the first 2-week pay period and 27 for the second. That's less than part time. That's practically 1/3 time. I work more than that, and I physically can't work full time. But if he gets a job working 40 hours a week then we may be able to actually pay our bills, and on time for once.

--dragon Read more!

From Hell to Breakfast

A few months back while I was still enrolled in school, I had to write an essay for english. Now, I've always prided myself on my superior essay-writing abilities (yes, I know that was a terribly immodest comment) and I was particulary proud of this essay. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to turn it in because the week I finished it also ended up being the week I dropped out (more on that later). So in the hopes that this poor essay will actually see the light of day, I've decided to post it here thinking that at least one person might read it, and also in the hopes that if anyone ever reads it, they can learn a little bit about me. I'm going to post it in a few parts because it's rather long (about 4 pages) and that's a bit much to read in one sitting. Unless of course one is like me and reads through the entire archives of other peoples blogs in one afternoon.

(The Essay prompt included a paragraph from an essay we had read in class where the author compared herself to a "crumpled paper bag of miscellany", which is what the intro paragraph responds to.)
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From Hell To Breakfast

I am less a bag of crumpled paper than I am a cardboard box, bent at odd angles with the corners worn, the seams taped and re-taped over more moves than I can count on my two hands. It is box hastily packed in the twilight, stuffed with seemingly incongruous artifacts of an implausible existence. It is a scene played over and over in my life. The setting may change, but the act does not. Though the scene in itself is curious enough, the question arises as to what it is that may be found in the box. What is it that makes these items so important that they absolutely must be packed, as opposed to something more practical, more useful in a quick getaway such as this?

It’s not that there is anything very special to be found inside the box, but memories and dreams that are yet to be. A small wooden box filled with letters to a boy who forgot to become a man. Letters that span 6 years, every one I ever wrote. Drawings, photos, a scrap of napkin with half a poem. Notes passed in class and a journal kept for the 6 months he was far away. I cannot bear to part with these memories of my past. He was my first real friend. He was my first love. He was my first betrayal. And so I keep them. They remind me of so many things I have done, how I thought and talked. My art and first real attempts at serious writing. They don’t just represent a dear friend lost, they represent the entire person I was for over 6 years. It seems strange to say that a bunch of letters and other junk is me, but it is. It is a different me, but a me nonetheless. How many other people have a such a clear record of a defining period of their lives?

Another item in the jumble that stands out is a pair of ornate ebony chopsticks with mother of pearl inlaid dots at the top. Other than being a very fancy set of eating utensils, these embody my love of culture and hunger for things beyond myself. I love oriental things, especially Japanese, and these chopsticks remind me of what I love so much of a culture so foreign to me. I love the formality and tradition of Japan. I love the language, written it is art in itself, and spoken it falls melodically on my ears. In America we are sometimes lacking in the beauty of ritual and custom that many other cultures employ. In a merging together of so many different ideas, many are lost. I hope that I can create a little beauty and tradition in my own life, even if everything around me is a whirlwind of chaos.

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I'll post the rest of the essay tomorrow or the next day.

--dragon Read more!

Scrying

When I think of the baby, I don't think of a tiny helpless infant. I think of a little boy with sandy hair and green eyes, maybe 2 or 3 years old. I've tried to imagine him as a baby, a new and wriggly little bundle to cuddle with and sing to when I'm kept up at crazy hours, but for some reason I just can't picture it. Instead I see myself chasing (no pun intended :P) him across the lawn, or him reaching up to me with hands covered in mashed potatoes and a sloppy grin. Perhaps it's easier for me to imagine a personality for a toddler than it is for a baby, but I've met plenty of babies, and even when they are very small they have some hints of their future personalities. Or perhaps it's more of a fear that I won't be able to hash it out as the parent of a newborn and the image of a walking, talking terror is my imagination showing me my percieved reward if I can only make it through the first 2 years. I'm not really sure.

Sometimes I think I must be crazy. I have a really hard time with long term commitments. I can do anything for 6 weeks at a time. After 6 weeks, I can usually convince myself to do it for another 6 weeks. But to push those 6 week blocks on for at least 18 years? Am I nuts? Everytime I have something good going for me, I self destruct. Am I going to be any different as a parent? Or am I going to throw my hands up in despair and walk away forever? Right now I don't feel any sense of attachment to the wee one. I read and hear other people saying how they loved their babies from the moment they knew they were pregnant, or how they talked and sang to their bellies for the whole 9 months. I know right around this time (26 weeks) babies can hear what's going on around them, but what do I talk about? What am I supposed to say? I feel as if I'm supposed to just know these things, but I don't. I keep hoping that as I get farther along these feelings will come naturally. I have a very hard time becoming emotionally attached to people. I try to remain very logical in my relationships with people, because I feel irrational and out of control when I become too emotionally involved with people. But with my very own child? Isn't just kind of wierd?

--Dragon Read more!

I Hope I Don't End Up Being This Kind Of Parent

This is just a random list of observations/ rant about things that drive me nuts about things some parents do. Feel free to ignore me or laugh at my sanctimonious little self while thinking that I'll end up doing all of these things. :)

--I work at Taco Bell (yeah, I know, how totally lame is that) so I see this alot: people who come in with their kids and order food, and the kids always want you to take off EVERY SINGLE VEGETABLE. Even stuff like salsa and whatnot. And this seems to be even more common with overweight kids. I understand that kids are picky. But it's fast food! The nutrional value of it all is practically a negative number. Up until my mom remarried, fast food was a very rare treat, as was soda. I intend to do the same thing. I was a rather picky kid, but the only thing I ever took off fast food was onions. But lots of people don't like onions. It's not like they're a miracle veggie anyway. And if the wee dragon decides he doesn't like the veggies on his taco or hamburger or whatever, well guess what little man, then you can wait til we get home and eat regular food.

--On another fast food (or restraunt in general) related note, many parents of small children leave huge messes. It's so inconsiderate. I understand that sometimes they are tired or harried or whatever, but it takes all of 2 seconds to put the wrappers and napkins and things on the tray and dump it out as you walk out the door. Have some courtesy, will you?

--People who smoke in the car with their kids in the backseat. Or even better, with the windows rolled up and their kids in the backseat. I find it hard to believe that people are unaware of the health risks related to smoking. It's one thing to decide to risk it and subject yourself to such a life-threatening and nasty habit, but to subject your kids to it should be considered some kind of abuse.

--Helicopter parents. Enough said.

--In that same vein, parents who don't let their kids ever play in the dirt, or get dirty, or pretty much don't ever expose them to any kind of germs. I have a healthy respect for germs. I wash my hands often and have a little thing of hand sanitizer on my keyring. I wash my hands between handling my cats and handling food or things like that. But I know that it is both impossible and inconvenient to live in a bubble. Germs have a purpose. There are things like salmonella and e. coli and playing with cat or dog poo that one should avoid, but come on people, get a life!

--People who refuse to admit that their kids may have done wrong. That is so wrong on so many different levels, and totally unhealthy.

--People who talk to their kids, especially little kids (the instance I recall involved a 15-month old) as if they are adults. I don't know how to really explain this. The best I can put it is using a tone and language best suited to a business conversation with your boss. There is nothing wrong with using words with more than one syllable. I am all for it. I have a pretty large vocabulary and I hope I can pass that on to the wee one. It was just the way this lady talked to her kid that just seemed so... inappropriate.

Now on a more positive note, there are some parents that I completely admire and aspire to be like.

--People who teach their kids manners. I have manners, and i really appreciate it and when little kids are polite and well behaved in public. It must be such a relief for their parents, too.

--People who discipline their children properly, even in public. Now, I don't mean spanking or anything like that. Here is an example. I was in Safeway one day, and this lady with 2 little boys was standing in the cereal aisle. They were probably around 3 and 5. They were acting up and whining to have some kind of sugary nutrionally devoid cereal, and she told them no several times and warned them that they would leave if they kept bothering her. Well, apparently they didn't beleive her, and kept it up. She took them both by the hand and walked out. I think that that takes guts. If she weren't obviously busy, I would have told her how totally awesome she was.

--People who know how to have fun with their kids and treat them like kids. Pure awesomeness.

There are lots and lots of other things that I think people do that are awesome too, but I can't think of them right now. Mostly because for some reason I witnessed most of the things that irriate me today at work, so they stick out more in my mind. But to all the awesome parents (and I think that regardless of self doubt and all of that, you should be able to recognize whether or not you're a pretty ok parent), you rock, and someone should remind you of that often. :D

--dragon Read more!

Sick

I'm so tired of this. I constantly feel like I'm walking on eggshells trying to avoid hurting Erik's feelings. He's just so incredibly emotional. To make matters worse he deals with his emotions like a child.

Tonight he apparently wasn't feeling good and went to sleep around7:30 or 8pm, which is incredibly early for him. I was completely unaware as I was in another room reading since early in the evening. He had promised to pick up his sister from work when she got off at 11pm and I went in there once to ask why he was in bed so early and to remind him to pick her up and take the laundry down to the laundry room on his way out the door. He made no mention of the fact that he felt sick. Absolutely none. So I went back to my room, completely unaware and didn't talk to him again until about 10:45 when I just so happened to finish the book.

I went to wake him and he was acting all like "poor me" and finally told me after I asked about 5 times that he didn't feel good. Ok, fine. but the way he said it implied that he wanted me to go pick her up. Which would have been fine... if he'd asked me earlier. I was pretty much ready for bed, tired, and not looking forward to going back to work with only one day off (which wasn't really a day off because I spent the entire day cleaning the house while Erik got to "work" for about an hour and a half and then sat around at his sister's watching TV all day). I especially didn't like that he refused to straight out ask me and then got mad when I said that I didn't feel like it. Of course this escalating to him getting all butt-hurt and when I tried to get him to call his sister to ask if she might be able to get another ride he refused because most likely he wanted to make me feel bad (he likes to play the victim alot). Luckily she called and said her boyfriend had showed up and was going to take her home.

Finally, this all was over and we had to go downstairs so he could find the change he'd left in the car for the laundry and I could put stuff in the washer. I put the clothes in and he went upstairs. His sister stopped by because we had her house key, and at that point Erik decided that he was going to be all dramatic and go stay the night at her house. He said he didn't want to have a fight (hello, said fight, if it could even be called that, was totally over by then) and he just didn't want to be around me. Please. For one, I was downstairs. He was upstairs. You can't be bothered by someone who isn't even in the house with you! I told him he was being rediculous and overreacting, and that it was an especially bad idea to try and take his car (it's broken and makes the most awful hissing noise you've ever heard), and on top of all that if he was feeling so tired and sick it was dangerous for him to drive. Finally I talked him out of it and he came back up to the apartment and went to bed.

I'm sick of this. I'm totally sick of having to walk on eggshells all the time for fear of hurting his poor little feelings. I wish he'd just grow some balls and act like a man, not some whiney little boy. I'm not saying I think he shouldn't be able to express how he feels or cry or any of that, but I have thicker skin than he does. Every. Little. Thing. hurts him or upsets him. He won't stand up for himself at work or to people that overstep their boundries, he won't do anything except mope about it. I just can't stand it. As I've probably said before, I tease, I joke around, I sometimes play pranks on people. All harmless. I don't say mean things or belittle him, but somehow he manages to take everything completely wrong. How in the world did he get through school with such an attitude? I mean, he's a bully's dream.

I'm just fed up and I don't know what to do. I've gotten so much better and more easy going since I've been taking my medication, but he still acts like such a baby. How am I supposed to respect him or even want to be around him if all he does is take offense to everything and cry and run away from anything that he doesn't like?

ghaaaaaa... Read more!