good things are happening

the good shit is that i ditched that horrid job at the law office. i now work at a place that i can be proud of, and has potential for me for growth. and even if that were to not happen, it’s still a cool little place, local, i don’t have to drive. so that kicks ass. the lawyer wants me to come back into the office, ostensibly to show him what is  where in his office, but in reality it’s most likely to ask me to sign a statement, which i will refuse to do. i anticipated this since i saw that he had the sick lady whom i replaced  sign a document. but whatever it is, i have no reason to sign it. i have no reason to treat this any differently than a routine employee separation, which requires no one to sign anything. nothing he’d ask me to sign could possibly be in anyone’s interest but his own, so fuck it. so i always thought that he’d give it to me on my last day, which i would take and not give back, as proof that he’d asked me to ____ (whatever it is). part of me looked forward to it, because i don’t imagine he’d have any idea what to do about that. but it’s not worth the drive in, so it won’t happen. i told him i’d be in touch this week. i won’t be.

enough about him. there are places i can go with this new job. the people there seem like minded and at the very least, it’s local. i don’t have to drive there. but if it turns outt o be what it seems to be, i can really take off running there. there’s a studio upstairs and an unused warehouse, and i can wedge myself in as a buyer for natural and sustainable products. i even thought about it this morning and thought, i make my own cleaners at home. i can bottle that shit and sell it! the owner does that, sells shit local people make so hello… i can make some stuff. so can Mr Lucretia. i can also organize bazaars and flea markets and classes for that warehouse. the owner is down with all of that. and if it works out, it will be reflected in my salary.

everything’s coming up me.

moreover, i have an opportunity to live a way i’m happy with. i’ve struggled for how to word this, but it’s been a constant frustration of mine that i spend so much time doing such pissant work, be it domestic or some wage slave know-nothing job. it saps my energy and my brain power, to where i have nothing left to dedicate to creative endeavors. and it’s fucked up, not because i have projects that i miss working on, but because that shit is how i view myself and i feel like a loser when i don’t do the shit. it’s always been hard for me to focus on things that make me happy, to develop skill and/or talent for anything. it’s been a struggle for most of my life, but mostly since having the child. when i started taking art classes and found that i have some talent and it makes me happy, i hoped i could go somewhere with that, even if it was only to continue doing it, get better and enjoy it. but like i do with everything i like, i stopped doing it, except for my weekly classes. and my free time was wasted writing for you people, and reading dumbass news stories online.

but being with like-minded people during work has the potential free me up to do shit, in a way i can’t really explain. it seems like a nurturing environment. art is on all teh walls. all the people i asked about this owner guy had nothing but nice things to say about him. if i can somehow incorporate my own knowledge and interests in my work, i won’t be so drained. i can get ideas while working and not forget them by the end of the day, like is happening with me now. and again, even if that doesn’t happen, i still get to work with artists and crafters on a regular basis.

but i really want to be one. if that happens before i die, i will be a happy woman.

my friend is an asshole

onto the friend.

ass.

it bugs me, even though it’s been a long time. and even though i knew for several months how this person truly thinks of me.

we’d been friends for 25+ years. speaking to her about her life, and my concern about some parts of it was reduced to bullying and judgment. actually i can’t even say it was “reduced” to bullying, because that implies that there is some kernel of validity to that, like there is with teh judgment. which, by the way, i totally owned and offered to talk about that and clarify it so that the person would be (hopefully) comforted, and even if she was no longer interested in still being friends, i didn’t want to leave things giving her the wrong impression. then the accusation of bullying came. which she knows fully well is way off. and it pissed me off. i invest over two decades in a person to be called things that both of us know aren’t true, just because she was in a tough spot and overwhelmed? uh, no. not by a long shot. and let’s not forget that this person has a history of histrionics, was once diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (i mention this not because i view mentally ill people with –ahem– judgment, but to illustrate how evident this person’s antics were to outside observers as well). desperate, drunk, middle of the night phone calls, disappearances and whatnot. i don’t mind dealing with shit like this with my friends, but i will not deal with it AND be called things the friend knows i’m not because i’m not totally down with every life decision. and mind you, if not being down with certain decisions of friends were really a problem, one does not keep the same friends for decades. that’s just how it goes. so the fact that we’d been friends that long makes it worse that she said this, not better. it makes it less understandable that she’d think this, not more. this was several months ago.

but she had a baby in the meantime and i was wondering how she was doing. you don’t stop thinking about a person just like that when shit goes down. so i was hoping she was happy and doing well and decided to check her myspace. dumb mistake. some stupid shit on there, a veiled insult directed toward me, just like when she got mad at me and changed her status to “bullied.” stupid enough, but easier to write off when you think that maybe she was still pissed at that point and it’s alright to spout off dumb shit when you’re mad sometimes. even though, yes, it’s very lame, very 8th grade. but today i find that veiled insult, calling me an idiot moron, “you know who you are.” and it bugged me. yeah the insult bugged me, but mostly i was disillusioned with my friend. i don’t want to think i invested that much time and energy on someone who communicates via myspace like a fucking 8th grader. i’m embarrassed. i wish i was never friends with her. she’s almost40 and she’s using some internet module to say something to me that she was given the opportunity to say directly to me. part of me was holding out some hope that we’d work it out at some point in the future. that we’d hear each other out and even if we didn’t remain friends, we’d at least clear the air. but i look at that myspace profile and i see nothing there that i care to communicate with. she’s not someone i’d hang with anymore. her tastes in movies and books are stupid. her concerns and her beliefs are banal. her priorities are nothing to me. and if i were to have met her today and see her for what’s there, i’d have no interest in a conversation with her.

and that right there hurts. i’m sad that my friendship is really over. i’m sad that it apparently never was what i thought it was. and like i said, i’m embarrassed to have ever been associated with such a loser.

“up here, i’m already there.”

it’s working out nicely. the dick boss gives me unpaid time off, and i have a new job by monday. beautiful. so much so that i wonder if he will think i’m full of shit.

i don’t care. like kramer says, “up here, i’m already there.” he will be back from his trip on monday, when we will discuss how to replace me. he procrastinated talking about it this week, even though he was working while he was away. he said he would call me while i was in the office yesterday, and he did not.

the only thing that matters is, i have that other job now, so i don’t have to humor him. if he starts to give me shit or be wishy washy, i can just leave. so i’m in a good position.

i’m hoping that this new place is at least moving in the direction of where i need to be. i want to be doing something for money that doesn’t drain my time and attention and energy, so i can still play music and do my art, and develop those things. right now, i am not, and i think it’s the environment i’m in. so at least these people are crunchy and there’s art on the walls.  today, velvet underground played most of the day.

the people are friendly, i will have to get used to that. and i will hope that my unfriendliness isn’t a problem. it’s not that i’m not nice, i’m just not personable… is that it? i don’t know, but i don’t chitchat well with coworkers, and i almost pathologically don’t want anyone knowing my business. so i don’t share at work as a rule. the result of that is that no one gets to know me and don’t know how to take the things i say or do. i’m hoping the friendly camaraderie atmosphere doesn’t mean i have to be a different personality. because i don’t fake it well.

anyway, i’m in limbo now, ostensibly serving out my notice at the law office. but up here, i’m already there.

so i scored an interview

at a job that’s in town. it starts immediately, and my boss at the job i hate is on vacation. that could be awkward.

he gave me forced, unpaid time off for his vacation. a vacation he obviously knew about, but didn’t give me any notice. so i guess that actually does free me up to start immediately, doesn’t it?

i was so happy to not have to go to that place that i forgot to be pissed that he’s forcing me to take unpaid time off. hmph. and i suppose if i really want to be cool to him and not quit right away with no notice, i could do both jobs for a week. HA. let’s see if i can finagle that. i’ll offer to take 20 hours a week for the first two weeks, then  go up to 40, so i don’t leave my  last place high and dry. which will make me look considerate.

so i hope i do alright at this interview.

i haven’t been writing because i’m feeling like there’s nothing to write about. and my earlier theory that i should sit and type and see what spills out seems to be a bust. because look at what i’ve come up with.

bah,

i left art class last week, knowing i had to go to work, thinking, “this should be my job. i should draw for a living.” i joked with my instructor and he said, “yeah, and you could make it your job if you want.” but he was being nice. not only am i not very good, but you can’t get work. everyone is good at this. everyone but me.

but it still served as a reminder that i’m going about my whole professional life wrong. i work these stupid know-nothing-but-steady-paycheck jobs because i have bills to pay and this is the easiest way i know how to get that done. but it makes me unhappy and when i’m in the studio i’m truly happy.

i’m not saying i should try to make art my job somehow, i know that’s not feasible. but i should at least get the fuck out of the law office. god, no one there has any personality. i was going to type soul, but i don’t believe in souls. but still. whatever that shit is, that shit that makes you interesting, they don’t have it. and their friends don’t have it. no one i see in my normal day has it. no one has any interests or livelihoods. no one talks about anything but people. and sometimes people they don’t even know. apparently there is a couple called “john and kate.” i take their word on it.

so yeah, it’d be great to get this gig in town. it’d also be great to do my art more and take that somewhere and do something with it so there is something more to me than how i make my shit-low paycheck.

eew

so i went to see my mom and sister, and my sister’s kid. the kid was cute as hell, but egad…

the house is so run down and actually smells. the bathroom, and this happened when i lived there too, had tiles coming loose, and a shower liner duct taped to the wall over it to protect the wall behind it. the toilet had inch-thick gunk at the bottom. the furniture was all old as hell, the same shit that was there ten years ago. and just for clarity, it’s not the type of furniture you keep for ten years. the storm door’s handle broke, so someone installed a new one, above the broken one. the carpet was smelly and covered in spots. it was depressing. going there is always depressing, but this sucked because i now know my mother is old and needs to get her ducks in a row for when she can no longer work. she can’t get anything for that house in its present condition. that bathroom wall needs to be replaced outright, they need to quit replacing tiles and just replace it. better yet, gut the room and remodel it. my mom was always like that. so resistant to solving problems, just let them stretch on indefinitely. and the house was always so damn dark.

on the way back, i drove past the house i really grew up in, and showed it to my daughter. i showed her my school and pointed out the rooms i went to various grades in. she’s like, “noooo! you didn’t go to fourth grade!” i’m like “yep, i did. right there.” i showed her where my girl scout meetings were, my piano lessons, where i used to shoplift candy, where i fell off my bike at  6 am while my parents were hung over sleeping and screamed until my father woke up and came to get me, the chinese restaurant that my school used to get fortune cookies from for the chinese new year. i’ve done this a few times, driving through that town. it’s usually depressing. but yesterday it wasn’t. the kid was full of questions. and her father wasn’t there to poo-poo everything.

then i came home and got drunk, and was still in bed by midnight. lovely.

preparing for the onslaught

tomorrow, i will see my family. it’s part of my policy of giving them access to my daughter, but maintaining a distance between my life and them. they’re asses to me. my mom, not so much. i set her straight a few years ago and she’s pushed less ever since. but my sisters will never respect …. well, me. so i don’t, as a policy, subject myself to it.

but it was my daughter’s birthday recently, and they wanted to have a tea party, so we’re doing it.

but still, it’s tough on me. i don’t tell my child how agonizing it is for me so no, she does not appreciate it.

saw where the wild things are. it’s every bit as good as a movie based on that book could be. the puppetry is amazing, the low tech effects too. still, i could have waited for dvd. i’m not one to see movies on their opening weekend, but this one looked like it was going to kick ass. it kicked less ass than i expected, but it was refreshingly non-formulaic, non disney and non pixar. it was slow and quiet and dark and the last shot of the film was just beautiful. he comes home, the mother gives him chocolate cake, and watches adoringly as he eats it, and slowly falls asleep. loved that.

fuck today

it started with Mr Lucretia not getting up in the morning, and me having to get the kid to school. this is a pattern with him. every time something changes, be it her schedule, where we live, one of our jobs, it always results in him dumping work on me. and whenever something changes, i get it, and i don’t make much of a thing about it. i accept a period of adjustment. what i don’t accept is staying the fuck in bed because you’re tired when shit needs to get done. we established long ago that this work is split down the middle, yet a minor chaneg in our lives always gives him license to just walk away from it and wait to be spoon fed his responsibilities, like it’s my job to delegate his parenting tasks to him. ass. we’ve been in the new house for two weeks, any fantasy of a learning curve has been totally milked to death at this point.

so i got up, he stayed in bed. i needed to get ready for work, but i had to get the kid ready for school. eventually he emerged from bed, so i got started with my own life till about 20 minutes later i notice that he’s back in bed. so i took over, and was late for work, for the ninth time in two weeks because of this shit. and this time it did piss me the fuck off. i didn’t say shit to him. i have no plan to. he knows what he needs to do, and i know he will not do it. no conversation needs to be had at this point, it’s been eleven years of this shit. we both know where the other stands.

ass.

his explanation? “i’m a douche.” yeah. kinda noticed that one. also not the question.

now it’s 40 degrees and raining. i don’t much feel like making an involved meal. i would totally make apple pie for dinner right now if i could afford the apples and butter but i can’t till tomorrow. today, i can afford the cheese for twice-baked potatoes, which will have to suffice. how much you wanna bet i’ll get assed at for that? hm?

bottom line, i will not rely on someone who has made himself unreliable. what will happen is we will go back to what we always go back to, which is what he wants, which is that i do all the work in the house and he sleeps, works, plays his music and putzes around on the computer when he wants to.

too tired.

too tired to write coherently. every day i get up feeling alright, and by the end of the day i’m just beat. right now i feel like i could sleep for a day. vodka tonics at night either help or hurt, i can’t tell. the past two mornings, i had time to sleep in a little, but couldn’t. that sucks. as much problems as i have sleeping, i can usually count on mornings.

i’m mad at the Mr. he’s been a shit, mostly to the kid, and i can’t deal with that. and when i say i can’t deal with that, i don’t mean, i’d rather not deal with that, or that i resent that, or that i object to that, or that it upsets me. i mean

I

CAN’T

DEAL

WITH

THAT.

when someone’s mean to my kid it’s like a knife in my gut, i can’t  not respond, and i with all sincerity have no esteem for him whatsoever. i’m trying to avoid using terms like loyalty and motherhood, because it’s so beyond that. it’s not anger, it’s not hurt, it’s total blankness for this man with whom i’ve lived for fifteen years. at that moment, he becomes any random person being a shit to my child and at that moment, i don’t care one way or another what happens, other than it stops. i know for certain, and he does too, that when he does shit like that and i tell him to move the fuck out, i would not look back for a second if he actually took me up on that. of course i do love the guy and i do love having him around and if we ever broke up i would have a hard time and all that. but in that moment when he’s an ass to my daughter there is no confusion whatsoever. he’s nice, but she’s forever. and i’m responsible to her, not him. so if one cross word from him made me impulsively say, that’s it we’re done, get your shit and get out… even years later i would not regret that decision.

luckily, these are just moments and not patterns and longstanding conditions in our home. which is the only reason i don’t respond by instructing him to move the fuck out.

he’s frustrated. nothing is going like it’s supposed to. somehow this includes me and his kid, although i’m not sure what we are supposed to be doing, both of us are working to settle into the new house. but whatever it is, we’re not doing it, and it’s pissing him off. as is work, as is his lack of work, as is needing to borrow money and rent a garage because we don’t have enough space here for our shit.

so it goes. i still don’t think an eleven year old girl has the mental resources available to deflect a 41 year old man on a warpath. after all, he is the adult and it is his job to suck it up and not act like the child. his response to being asked why he was such a shit to her, “she was a shit to me.” yep. that came from the adult. her birthday party with kids didn’t have that level of immaturity. so when i told him that, and that i don’t give a shit how she behaved toward him he’s all “i know….” like he’s somehow cleverly twisting my words to mean that i don’t take her behavior into consideration…. again… that’s something she would say. and it would be normal for her, because she’s eleven.

so what we’re doing instead, starting tomorrow, is that we are not dealing with him at all when he’s like that. plans change, we make do without his assistance with whatever chore we’re doing…. whatever we need to do to remove the kid (and me) from the douche. that’s usually my problem, usually we’re getting shit done when this sort of thing happens, and i think about how i can’t move it to another day, i can’t eject him from the project for one reason or another.

but we will do that, at least this week, if it continues.

but i don’t think it will. he is sad and frustrated and now that i brought it up he will probably watch it and it won’t be an issue. because he doesn’t want to be an ass to a child.

moved into a much better house

no idea how i will pay the rent. not because it’s more, because i am so broke and Mr Lucretia’s work has been unsteady. the financial screening we were subjected to before signing the lease was “do you foresee any problem paying the rent?” to which we of course answered “oh no, of course not.”

so you see, we’re fucked. as early as this coming month, we are fucked.

but oh, how nice the house is. i have my computer set up a whole room away from the Mr’s, which is like a breath of fresh air, let me tell ya. i was so damn sick of being  up his ass, and he up mine in that other place.

now, if he can only get that job he interviewed for, and we’ll be set.

if not, we’re going to have to borrow from friends again. as it is, i don’t know we’re going to repay them for what they’ve lent us.

they can afford it, but it grates on me.

what i have to decide

is whether i’m going to planned parenthood, who will write a referral for a “health center” that participates in the charity care program, or if i’m going to one of the local hospitals, also to use charity care.

charity care only is valid in hospitals, and apparently, clinics.

it does not cover anything other than in-house  services.

i’ve applied for state sponsored health insurance, but chances are good i will be denied due to my past applications, and even if i were to get the coverage, it would take a couple months.

in teh meantime, if i’m going to get this thing looked at, i will have to use charity care.

the hospital charges easily 450% of the market value of the services. i know, i called around to see how much the ultrasound would cost me if i just paid for it. it would cost $200. the hospital charges $700 plus the radiologists’ fee. they would not say how much that is, but from past experience, i’m guessing about $200.

whereas, this clinic would be a lot less, but depending on what they find when they look in me, they may not be able to treat it.

so the relevant factors are, the

1. base cost and what i would end up being charged after charity care anyway (20%).

2. quality of service and expertise in staff

3. ability to treat whatever is in my abdomen

based on 2 and 3, the hospital is the way to go, even though i would get stuck with several hundred dollars of the cost.  charity care, if i get it, would be good for a year. i would be covered for pretty much anything this thing turns out to be.

on the other hand, the most likely growths are fibroid, ovarian cyst, endometriosis. these are gynecological conditions that could be treated at that clinic.

so i had to write taht all out, because i feel very indecisive. like the factors involved are too complicated to make the best decision. which is another thing that worries me. my loss of brain power. it sucks.

i just made an appointment for a financial screening at the hospital. it looks like the way to go. we have to show up together and sign documents and show birth certificates and everything.

if everything is kosher, i could be covered immediately. if i’m found out with respect to undeclared income, hopefully this mass will have been cut out of me by then.