Bizzaro Land

The other day, I was sleeping. I often do this. I was, however, having a dream. About my work. Here it is.

First of all, I was swimming in the snow. No, I don't know why, but I was trying to get somewhere or do something, and one of my CSMs, we'll call him Cornrows Guy because of his hairdo (those of you reading this who work with me know exactly who this is), was about 7 feet tall and yelling at me to hurry. There was also some sort of wooden platform structure thing, but I'm not sure what was up with that. I was seriously trying to maneouver in like five feet of snow. It was ridiculous. Then suddenly, as dreams do, I was in some store (NOT my work, it was more like TJ Maxx or Ross), and I was walking behind my sister (who happened to be Christina Aguilera) and we were arguing about something involving my wedding and her stealing the show, and we started pelting each other with beauty products, which was when the area we were in turned into the express registers on the north side of my store, and it was covered in tiny travel deodorants and things like that and Christina Aguilera had really kinky blond hair cut short like Renee Zellweger's was in Chicago, and we were really mad and there was more pelting, and then I started to wake up a little, and the dream turned into a lucid dream and I started freaking out because we had made all this mess at my work and I was trying to clean it up and then I realized that I should tell a CSM about it and then I realized that it wouldn't matter because of the security cameras and then I went to go tell a CSM that is no longer a CSM (Buzzcut Guy!), and as I was about to cry at him with handfuls of deodorant in my hands, I woke up.

I am crazy.

This is Probably Not the Update You Were Looking For

I can't talk to anyone about how I am feeling, because that would signify weakness, and I can't be weak. I have to be strong, for myself and everyone around me. I can't tell anyone that I'm the saddest person in the world. I don't even have anything to be sad about. I'm pathetic. I'm nothing. I'm useless. Every day, I get closer and closer to that moment. And then, will I be too much of a coward to actually...?

I don't want to die.

I can't be in my own head anymore. No one can hear me. No one can see me. I am not me. I don't feel like a person.

I have no reason to be in this much pain.

Nerdy Book-Loving Girl

It's been awhile.  I'm completely exhausted.  I'm moving again at the end of May.  I have a job, I don't remember if I've mentioned that.

Honestly, I kind of don't care about playing catch-up right now.  Probably because I've had 3 hours of sleep and I work 1-10 tonight.

I'm alive, I gave up on The Scarlet Letter and Mrs. Dalloway and whatever the hell else I was trying to read.  I'm currently reading Lord of the Rings, and it's actually really good.  There's a few parts that you really have to be awake for or they sort of slip by you and you have no idea what you just read because you mostly stared at it and turned the page, but other than that, it's excellent.  I keep running across words I don't know that Tolkein didn't make up, and I don't have a dictionary and I'm usually at work when this happens, so I may never expand my vocabulary at this rate.  In any case, I'm almost done with Two Towers and am making my way steadily to The Return of the King.  It's a one-volume book I got out of the library, since I was having issues finding Two Towers when I started getting close to being done with Fellowship, and so I switched to the one-volume set, and hope I didn't miss anything.

So, I'm supposed to go with MB to her friend's house today to do laundry while she dog-sits, and we're supposed to leave in about 5 minutes and she hasn't even taken a shower yet, so we might not be going.  Hopefully the dogs don't poop inside or anything if she's late.

Edit approximately 30 seconds after I clicked publish: MB is now in the shower, hahaha, so apparently my thoughts were a catalyst or something for her.  Heeh.

Anyway, my birthday was yesterday and now I'm 25.  I'm going to go get coffee and hope that I get to take a nap before work.

Gay Does Not Mean Second-Class

I stumbled across a news article today that I felt the need to address.  It was in Rolling Stone, about a town in Minnesota that has seen a sharp increase in teenagers committing suicide ever since the school district implemented a policy demanding staff remain completely neutral on topics involving homosexuality.  This policy was so vague that teachers and other members of staff became afraid for their jobs, and as such, they completely stopped acknowledging the existence of any sexual orientation that was not the accepted norm.  This in turn led to the administrators and staff members of the schools in this district to ignore bullying related to homosexuality and tell students who complained about bullying to just ignore it.

They failed thousands of kids.

Not only did they fail the many kids who were bullied for their sexual orientation, but they failed the kids doing the bullying.  These kids were taught that it was okay to treat people that identify as gay as second-class citizens.  I am afraid of what their future holds, as well.

According to the article, over 700 kids in this school district were evaluated for serious mental health issues in the 2010-2011 school year alone.  These kids were having suicidal thoughts, cutting, and showing symptoms of depression.  Some of them were even hospitalized.  The policy was put into place in 2009.

---

Some of the kids who died were as young as 13.  I cannot describe the horror I feel at knowing that someone so young is now gone simply because they did not have the support system available to them to be able to cope.  I want to do something.  I want to help.  And I know I can't really do anything - I haven't the money, or the time, or the transportation to do anything that would have any effect.  I don't know how to be a mentor.  I don't know how to change laws, or fix things.

There was a web comic that covered this topic in November of 2010.  I want to have giant posters made of this comic and hang one up in every middle and high school in this country.  I want these kids to know that it does get better, that high school is most assuredly not the peak of your life, because if it is, that's just sad.  There is so much more they can be, there is so much more they can do, if only they give themselves the chance to achieve it, to see it.  I want them to see that they will be stronger, more interesting people after high school than their bullies, and they will go on to soar if they stick it out.

I want them to know it gets better.

The Slob Who Reads a Lot

I am alive.  (Obviously.)  I am in Emporia.  I am about to go to bed.  Apparently, the best I can do is declarative statements at the moment.  I have a library card, a job (which I haven't attended orientation for, which makes me nervous), and I have other big news that I hope I'll remember to post about later.  It deserves its own post, both so I can shit my pants over it and squee incessantly.  I am currently reading (or rereading): Angels & Demons by Dan Brown, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, A Change in Altitude by Anita Shreve, and The Stand (expanded edition) by Stephen King.  I've already read Angels & Demons, but I haven't seen the movie yet, so I wanted a refresher on how disappointed I'm going to be.  I read 9 pages of Pride & Prejudice before I gave up a few days ago, further cementing my need to just own the book so I can read it like I read 1984 - pick it up every few months and read a chapter or two.  Of course, I haven't touched 1984 since 2006, but it worked for The Hobbit - it took 6 months to read, but damned if I didn't do it.

Things are looking up.  I'm terrified.  I'm on the edge of some (more) huge changes.  I don't know how I feel about this and how many I'm ready to accept, but I'm working toward something different.  I don't know if it's better, but it's different.

I miss everyone like crazy. 

My belongings are everywhere because I never pick anything up.  I have two binders, a blanket, two canvas bags, a bathrobe, various purse innards, a newspaper, a notepad, a sweater, and mail on the floor near my feet right now.  Oh, and four library books, and that doesn't even count the books I seem to have misplaced.  (I was attempting to read Mrs. Dalloway again.  I got as far as I did last time.  I just can't seem to follow it.  It's somewhere around here.)

Things I seem to be good at accumulating, now that all my stuff is in one place:

• Pens with varying levels of ink.
• Odd batteries.
• Shoes.
• Books.
• Purses.

I am odd.  I am tired.  Good night.

The Cluster-You-Know-What

It's been forever since I posted here.  I suck like that.  Honestly, I haven't felt like dealing with it on top of everything else.

I wound up moving to Joplin, Missouri to stay with a friend.  She told me almost nothing about the true living situation in this house, so I walked in totally unprepared to discover the state of it.  The bedroom I sleep in with her daughter and her roommate's daughter always smells like cat pee because one of her cats won't stop peeing in there, and there are now 7 people living in this tiny house, which isn't much bigger than J and S's house.

The worst part was that she didn't tell me exactly what kind of bug problem she had.  She told me they only came over when people moved out of a duplex down the street, because she was ashamed of it and so she lied to me about it.  If I'd known the extent, I would never have come here.  I am basically phobic of roaches, so for the first 3 days I was here I did nothing but cry and have anxiety attacks.  My skin has been crawling for days, and I'm terrified I will find them in my hair.  I almost want to shave my head and start over, but I know a lot of the itch on my head is psychological.

So I'm moving to Emporia in two days to live with H, which was the original plan, before I changed my mind because this place was made to sound so much more stable.  Unfortunately, it's very, very not stable (more on that after I get to Emporia), and I can barely function in this house.  The only thing I want to do is not be here.  I can't even shower without being afraid I'll find one in the shower with me.  I'm only eating in the evenings because I hate going into the kitchen and I'm afraid to touch any of the food or dishes, so I'm only eating enough to get by until I can get the HELL out of here.  And oh god, one just appeared on the couch next to me.  *shudder*  If things continue the way they have been today, I may have to go to a homeless shelter or something with my stuff until then, or I put myself at risk for a huge backslide on the self-harming.  Upside, I've completely stopped biting my nails because I want no part of this house in my mouth.

H is being wonderful about this.  I have to abandon my dresser here because I don't want to accidentally bring the roaches with me, and she's offered to buy me a new plastic one to keep my clothes in, and she's going to take anything that might be hard to decontaminate to a dry cleaner to get that fixed.  I've already applied at 4 different places, or maybe 5, I forget, and hopefully someone calls me very soon.  Definitely looking forward to that.

I miss everyone at the house so much.  I even made a collage desktop background for myself, which I'm going to completely overhaul when I get to H's and have some free time after we determine if my computer is contaminated or not.  Woo.

Anyway, maybe I'll write another post later, but right now I have to go.

Adventures in Packing

Moving is hard.

You start off with the best intentions. "Everything is going to be packed properly! The kitchen stuff will all be together, the bathroom stuff, the bedroom stuff, the clothes, and the books will all be packed separately from each other," you say. Then you try to pack. First, you have a tote (or box, but in my case it's a tote) with all "memory box" type stuff. Then you have another tote with only books. But there's a little bit of extra room in the top and you don't want your books sliding around all over the place.

So you put a random dish towel on top to shore things up a little.

It all goes downhill from there. You start putting dinosaur tater tot toys in water pitchers and filling pasta pots with cosmetics, putting art supplies in the tote with the hangers, a single hanger in the tote with all the towels and breakable kitchen stuff. The purses and shoes are together, but they have a blanket in with them. At first, it still makes sense. Most everything is still organized. Then you start finding things around the house that you meant to pack but forgot about in your frenzy, and by the time you get to the last tote, this is what you have left to pack:

• A wedding planning binder (from 2 years ago that your best friend gave you after her wedding so you could plan yours that never materialized)
• A giant CD book
• A snake pen
• A wall night light
• A Christmas garland
• A plastic brandy glass the size of your head
• A pretty basket you keep bathroom stuff in
• Two hot pink file trays
• An accordian file
• Two photo albums
• A yearbook
• A catalog
• A half-done painting
• Various other artwork on paper
• A metal recipe box
• An enormous bathrobe
• A throw pillow inside piece for a pillow you never made

And of course, it doesn't all fit. You stuff things inside of each other, rearrange, take stuff out and put it back. You seriously consider attempting to concuss yourself with the brandy glass. Your back hurts and you just want this to be over with already. Finally, you give up, ditch the CD book, the pen, the metal box, the bathrobe, a photo album, and the wedding planning book, shove the garland in the brandy glass, and suddenly the tote closes. Then you dump all the extra into a laundry basket and put it on top of the giant stack of totes so you don't have to look at it anymore and run away.

This is why moving is hard.

Oh, Look! It's The Bottom!

As previously demonstrated, I suck at an actual posting schedule.  Or even posting anything semi-regularly.

Everything is changing.  S and J asked me to leave, so I'm trying to figure out where I'm going to live.  I have until February 1st, which is when I have to move out.  So far, I have no idea.  I don't know where I'm going to end up.  I have a couple of friends who are willing to keep me from ending up on the streets, but no real hope of finding something on my own.

I'm currently working on fixing my resume so it doesn't suck because I'm trying to apply for a job that requires a resume and a cover letter.  The cover letter is done, but I'm getting stuck on the resume.

I was going to look into going to school for a pharmacy technician certificate, but FAFSA doesn't pay for non-credit classes, so I am rethinking what I want to do and if I can do this.  I'm thinking about getting an associate's in business administration so I can try to find something I can do for a living while I look into going to college for real, or maybe the business admin degree will be enough.  I don't know.

Since I never unpacked all of my stuff when I moved in here, I don't have a ton of stuff to pack - most of what I'm waiting to pack right now is towels that are in Girl Child's room that S has promised to locate (I think she's doing that in a few minutes, actually), and what little kitchen stuff I came with.  I think.  I keep remembering stuff that I forgot I owned.  Like my purple ice cube trays.  I have no idea what happened to those.

I found out recently that my job with a certain clothing store was a seasonal position.  So I no longer have that job or the income.  I get my last check tomorrow, and I'll be checking then to see what is going on with this situation.

So, to summarize, I am pretty sure I have no job, and in 3 weeks, I will no longer be living here.  I don't know where I'll be.  Yep, looks like that bottom is rushing up to meet me.

So.  I've put a donation button for my PayPal account on this blog.  Totally optional.  I don't require anybody to actually give me money unless they want to.  But it's there.  Because I am at that point.  I hate that it's come to this.

In fact, I hate basically everything right now.