Why So Sad/Mad/Angry?

I just came to the obvious realization that too many of my posts are a tad bit on the negative side because I write them after work, right before I go home. Yes, for most, going home is a happy time, but you see, I HATE my job (yes, yes - very negative) so at the end of a 12 hr work day I am seriously pissed off at all the bullshit I have had to deal with throughout the day.

I don't really think I get over it until I am at home w/ C and all my dogs (3) and cats (2). Puppy love really is the best. I just cracked a smile - my first since about 6pm when I was seriously considering setting up a tent out back and camping out at work tonight, and for the rest of this week to try and finish what people say NEEDS to be done tomorrow. I love people who live in dream land (imagine the sarcasm dripping there) - idiots - all of them.

Then my often wonderful mother said SHE would do the paperwork for the container shipment. Poor fool had NO idea what she was getting herself into. She finally gave up at one invoice and said she would do the other 20 or so (40' container full of zippers of almost endless widths, types, functions, and lengths) when ever she damn well got around to it. She's the Boss.

So here is to writing at the beginning of the day, before my spirit becomes broken and nothing but negativity and spew from my keyboard.

Cheers!

"Saving one animal won't change the world, but it will change the world for that one animal."

Happy Birthday Earth!

"Saving one animal won't change the world, but it will change the world for that one animal."

Well, not really a birthday, but it is Earth Day! A day for all of us to feel guilty about not recycling, too much packaging, really wanting all wood furniture, liking fast cars (really liking them), using disposable anything, etc….

I just realized (well I had known it all along but it came to the forefront just now) what an incredibly disposable society we are. The more easily disposable it is, the better, seems to be the mantra in the good ole US of A.

I remember once in Oaxaca, Mexico I asked for a drink to go and was sooo perplexed as they started to put it in a plastic baggie. I repeated, “no, para llevar” and C just looked at me like I was an idiot. They returned the drink to me in a plastic bag tied off around a straw. Ingenious. No bulky stryofoam to congest landfills. The reasons were most likely for cost efficiency rather than environmental, but it still helps. Every bit helps.

I can't even begin to convey how much I want a hybrid SUV. But will it go fast? I must admit that I get a rush when I can smoke everyone at a light. Yesterday, I thought an old beetle wanted to race. I was actually hoping he would win. It’s not everyday that an old bug smokes a Benz(not me, but it is my car for now!). In the end, I left them all in the dust though. It’s nice to have a fast car. I wasn’t going really fast, but it was onto a highway exit, so you do have to fast. I just like that feeling when the car is slightly out of your control – you get pushed back into your seat and can almost imagine G-forces. I practically salivate at the thought of driving a Ferrari (in Germany) but then I think about how much gas they guzzle and feel completely guilty.

The conundrum that is I.

Why do I really like weird sentence structure?

Send your favorite things to heaven!

I finally picked up my wedding band on Sunday! I bought it 2 months ago when everything was still rush, rush, rush and when it all came crashing down it felt almost weird going to get it. It is also in a huge mall which I really hate going to. I guess it’s the same for all malls though. I have an old fashioned engagement ring shaped like an off-center octagon, so I wasn’t sure how it was going to go w/ a band but I looks great! The band is only 2mm wide with the tiniest diamonds all over the top half and totally matches my engagement ring.
Damn, I was trying to find a picture of a similar one at Kay’s and I saw it for $100 less than what I paid. Oh well, I thought I was getting a good deal at the time.

After that C and I were looking to go Oleta River State Park for kayaking but when we got there the kayak rentals were closed indefinitely. So then we were going to go Tradewinds Park Which we visited last weekend. It has this great viewing platform up amongst all these trees. It is such a perfect place to relax. Then we realized that it was waaaay to far north.
This is how our weekends usually go.
Wandering around looking for something to do.

We started wandering back south to home to do something – what it was I completely forgot. Well, on our way down we passed Haulover Beach and decided that’s where we would stop. We found a towel, spin kite and backgammon board in the trunk so we were set. More set than we realized.

We were quite bummed about our lack of mari-ju-anna for this weekend and when we opened up the board a decent size bag literally flew out (very windy that day). Also in the board were a bowl and lighter. Made a good beach day even better.

By this time the kite was already up in the air but I got tired of holding it. We attached it to my purse but heavy as the damn thing is, it was picked up off the ground a few times. Not wanting to see my purse fly away, genius C filled the kite tube with sand – a very handy anchor.

After a few games of backgammon in which he kicked my ass (he was once ranked like 20 in the internet world) we decided to send things up the kite line.

There is such an incredible feeling of release when you attach something to a string that goes strait up and then that something goes strait up as well – fast!
We sent a lot of things up there. My underwear, my dress, my flip flops, a plastic bag filled with sand, but with a small hole to make it rain sand – the neighbors were perverted – VERY. I was honestly scared to go the bathroom w/o C nearby – when I got out there was actually someone waiting for me at the door. Creepy. Very.

Next time we go to the beach, we are going to put the kite so high up that you can't see anything but the string and try to sell “Sending letters to God”.

Aren’t we just horrible.

Except for this devious idea to take advantage of the gullible we really are good people.

"Saving one animal won't change the world, but it will change the world for that one animal."

Friday - 10:08 pm - I'm on my way, home sweet home.

Yeah baby, the Xanex kicked in and I longer think I am going to try really hard not to drive off that bridge on the way home tonight.

I bet I wont even think about it.

Why are humans one of the few animals that commit suicide?

What makes me think about it soooo often?

I even have a minor plan. I want to rent a car before I drive off that bridge because it would be a shame to waste my car. Why cant I feel the same way about my life?

These two guys tried to kidnap me once, but I completely fought them off. All 5'1" of me and @ 115 lbs. They even had a gun. I was scared, but I was way more angry. I just kept thinking "You fucking assholes are ruining a perfectly good Sunday for me". They were amateurs, but it is still nerve wracking when a gun is pointed at you. It was pointed at my ample behind and I wondered how much it would hurt to get shot in the ass.

The one w/o the gun was saying over and over "If you don't get in the car we are going to kill you bitch". But I knew damn well that if I did get in my car, and they also managed to, I would probably be taken into the woods (I lived in Virginia where they actually exist) raped, and then killed. I figured my chances were better in a mall parking lot in broad daylight.

I just kept saying, over and over again "Leave me fuck alone you god-damn mother fuckers. Just go away and leave me the fuck alone you fucking assholes" and many variations of the same. I was proud that I turned out to be the lion type and not the lamb time.

It's funny. I have lived in some pretty bad ghettos and when I go to the ritzy mall, I become a crime victim for the first and so far only time. Go figure. It did take a good 6 months for the paranoia to diffuse. About 3 minutes changed the next 6 months - damn I got lucky.

I am pretty, not fat but curvaceous, and intelligent. I am financially better off than most, have the most wonderful loving parents, fiance, and pets.

Yet these thoughts still keep coming into my head. I cant seem to be able to drive them out. I feel like I need a permanent vacation from life sometimes. Usually I wish that I could become seriously injured just for the time off work. That and I like Vicodin.

But if makes me vomit if I don't get to smoke and I bet they wont let me smoke in a hospital so that's no good.

I promised my self that I was going to try to focus on the good in these "pages" from now on. Not doing too good so far. It is just therapeutic to get rid of all my self-destructive thoughts on "paper". Really, after talking about it, I do feel better.


Dooce recently posted about her bouts with severe postpartum depression. Reading her entries one would never have though that she was suffering so badly. I love reading her stuff. It is so funny and witty. I figured if she can feel so bad, and yet not let it show in her writing then I should try it. It seems like a really good idea.


"Saving one animal won't change the world, but it will change the world for that one animal."

UGGGGHHHH

I HATE MY FUCKING JOB!

I AM TAKING A XANEX.

HAVE A NICE FUCKING WEEKEND.

Dirty Filthy Car

"Saving one animal won't change the world, but it will change the world for that one animal."

I never wash my car. That worked just fine for me for about 10 years but then my parents got a new Mercedes and gave me their old one (not that old 1997 - 40th anniversary edition - some strange shade of blue/purple - only 250 made for USA). OK, those are the facts about my transportation.

It's a special car - only 250 after all - so I feel an obligation to keep it clean but I treat it like an SUV (which I plan to buy as soon as I see a hybrid make its way down to FL). It is the primary doggie transport vehicle because it has a handy shelf instead of a leather back seat. Because the top goes down you can fit much more than one would have ever thought in this car so it is also the designated camping car.

We once drove 4 hours with a tent, a 10ft inflatable boat, a 3hp trolling motor, 2 coolers, 2 camping chairs, stove, lantern, cook ware, 2 dogs (husky and jack russell), 2 people, a back pack, about 10 towels, 2 sleeping bags (the cheap bulky kind), and anything else you might need for camping out 2 nights on an island a mile off shore.

So my car, I feel bad when it is dirty which is very often as I have no garage and a huge nasty berry dropping tree over my driveway. Don't get me wrong - I would chain myself to that tree before I let anyone cut it down. I almost had to - it was going to be cut down about 2 days before I closed on my Coconut Grove townhouse. Luckily I had voiced my opinion that having a large tree in the middle of a driveway was completely awesome.

Today I get my car washed for the first time in over a month. It looks very clean. The I get closer. I see all these miniscule spots that really bother me. I run my hand over the hood (would never to that to unwashed car) and am actually upset that my hand gets dirty and that the hood is not smooooth.

So I don't care about my car when it is dirty, but I turn into an anal bitch when it is clean.

I don't get it.

Another introspective e-mail

I have started an e-mail conversation w/ someone who I met though the comments at Tequila Mockingbird and they have been gracious enough to read this and give feedback. In my letters I find myself opening up and not bitching about every little thing in the world so I thought it would be cool to post yet another one. You know, this way I wont have to write twice.




Subject: RE: Why are sugar alcohols evil?

Mish:

Uh huh, uh huh. Zippers are more important than me.



I see how it is.


J

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Its not the zippers, it the MONEY!!!!



Yet another day in work hell – all spent fixing mistakes, none of them mine. I was in a huge funk until I figured out what had gone wrong and then I suddenly felt as if I had drank about 3 cups of coffee at once. I never realized it, but actually knowing what you are doing is a huge rush. When I saw where the glitch occurred (2 weeks ago while I was on funeral vacation) I was like “Yeah, I’m da man”.



I hate it when other people make mistakes, but I hate it more when I do. I yell at myself much more than I do at others. I actually don’t yell, but it is soooo weird being a boss like person when everyone else is older and w/ families and have worked here longer than me as well.



I have tomorrow off but will most likely come in anyway L.



Meds – I was on effexor but I HATED it. It completely killed my sex drive to the point that I had no interest even in masturbating. A doctor finally listened to me and switched me to Welbutrin which as far as I can tell has no significant side effects. Being on birth control tends to really alter ones mood so this might have something to do w/ it. I remember that I used to say that I was happier and skinnier when I was single and one day I realized that it was because I don’t use the pill when I am single. As I am quite prone to depression the pill probably affected me more than I realized. When I went to France, I forgot to take my pills (genius move I know) but after being off them for a week, I decided not to get back on. Hopefully this will make me happier (as long as I don’t get pregnant).



The switch was interesting though. Effexor doesn’t take the usual 2 weeks to kick in but Welbutrin does so there was about 2 weeks while I was taking low doses of each, but not really feeling the effects of either. In retrospect, I realize I was pretty “sensitive” about everything during those 2 weeks. At least I can laugh about it now.



While I didn’t actually try to commit suicide I did things that endangered my life like hanging upside down out of a 3rd story window by my legs – normally I wouldn’t even do that on monkey bars in a playground b/c I am such a scaredy cat.



I also quit my job, gave my car back to my parents and tried to walk home 10 miles.



C broke up w/ me for about a few hours and I thought it would be a good idea to try to hang myself by making a noose out of my huskies leash while it was attached to the dog – you know, a sled dog, the kind that pulls. Really hard. Obviously it was just a teeny cry for attention and C unhooked the dog for me when he came back to the parking lot.



That was also when I got in touch w/ the person who got me into the whole blog thing in the first place. I wasn’t too nice to her. I kinda want to apologize and explain the mental circumstances I was under, but it seems stupid for me to apologize when she is the one who slept w/ my boyfriend. What do you think?



About the depressing journal thing – I don’t like reading them. I like funny ones like Tequila Mockingbird and Dooce. I once read this blog where this girl was just whining about her exboyfriend and going on and on and on about how much better she would be this time around if he came back to her. This is what ALL of her posts were about. Or just observational ones. That is what I wanted to create, but I have created a depressing one. I have been thinking about making this one private and starting a new one reserved only for those happy times or when I notice something cool like what the hell do bunnies and colored eggs have to do w/ Jesus being crucified? I don’t get it. Bunnies don’t even lay eggs. I has to have some sort of historical significance – maybe one year I will look it up but for now I will just let it continue to bother me.



Whew – it’s a good thing I have autocorrect and can type fast.



I like writing to you. You read it and give honest feedback – what else could anyone want? I just hope you don’t laugh with your friends about this crazy girl who writes to you. But as they don’t know me, it wouldn’t really matter. Its funny, but I have severe problems w/ opening up to people, at least those I know. I can't even be completely honest with a therapist, for some reason I view it as a confrontation. I even became disillusioned w/ psychology after taking the therapist training class. It is all reflexive and mirroring talking. It is also much easier to write for me than to talk. I guess you have much more control when you write. You can always delete, but you can't delete what’s been heard.



I did realize that C and I were fighting a lot less this year. I wish I could delete some of the things I have heard from him and the visions of him saying them. Another problem of mine, I can forgive, but it is very hard for me to forget. I am trying to work on that, I guess that’s why I am thinking of apologizing to the girl who slept w/ boyfriend.



For over 10 years I had no interest in knowing about her and having her in my life, but after reading her and her husbands blogs I realize that they are both pretty cool people. She also just had a baby. But at the same time I think that she showed me her true colors back then, while she claims it was just a drunken mistake made while she was only a teen. I don’t know, I have never hurt anyone like that and don’t think I ever could, no matter how drunk I was. I guess that is what I should forgive and forget. Oh well………



What kind of books do you write? I read that you were writing one on your blog.



Once again, I wrote WAY more than I intended to.



Cheers!



Mish

Reply to an e-mail

Also, I will bet you money or zippers or whatever you want that you won't get married. Although, maybe your journal reflects the bad times, and not the good times. It's hard to truly get an idea of who someone is based on such a limited view into their life.

THIS WAS WHAT WAS WRITTEN, MY REPLY FOLLOWS

That I have not yet learned that brevity is the soul of wit is apparent.

Yeah – the marriage thing is weighing heavily on my mind. At times I want it and at times I don’t. When I think I don’t I wonder what I would do w/o C and then I remember that I was single for years and loved it. But one can't remain single for ever. Well some can, but I don’t want to. In all honesty, he is the most considerate, understanding, and loving person I have ever met. I am the kind of girl you hear about who is always attracted to guys that are bad for them and C seems like he is good for me. I know that our future will be fun. Thing is I don’t always know that. I am not too sure about the chemistry though, but I hear that fades after marriage and you need love and respect to make it work. It was there in the beginning but then it faded (the chemistry that is) but it could have faded b/c of the meds I am taking. We are both quite strange people and complement each other in many ways. But we are also both single children so we tend to act like siblings at times. We like many of the same things – camping in stupid weather, traversing open water ways in a 10’ inflatable w/ a 3hp engine, going on pointless drives down south to the farms, walking for hours through south beach w/o drinking a thing. He loves my menagerie of animals as much as I do; they are his as well, not just MINE. I also have 2 cats.

I made myself a rule that I would not live w/ anyone else unless we were engaged. C moved in before I was ready and then I was pushing for a proposal. I eventually got it and was quite happy. I don’t know - it could all just boil down to that I have a very thin skin when it comes to emotions.

The “Back from Brazil” post was written with such jet-lagged vengeance and venom and a large headache that I didn’t actually publish it for about a month after I wrote it. I knew that it was too dark, too mean, and too spiteful but I figured that if I took the time to write it, in that snapshot of time it was accurate, and should be recorded b/c that is what the blog is for. I know it is bad, and shows a bad side to things. I believe it shows some lack of compassion on my part for not giving C more slack and patience under the circumstances. It seems like you are my own personal blog at this point. Thanks for the ears. Please send a bill whenever you feel appropriate!

By the way, I am posting this as I feel it makes a good entry. All started because of sugar alcohols.

I really am COMPELLED to write when things suck. I wish I could write about the happy times but they aren’t things that I need to work out. I am on anti-depressants and have a feeling that they are numbing my emotions. I need to wean myself off of it, but last time I tried I really behaved like a raving lunatic at times. I rant but I don’t rave.

I used to religiously keep a diary when I was in junior high and high school and though I don’t remember being completely suicidal and depressed during that time, according to my writing I was.

Back from France - Mother in law dead

It sucks, really sucks. I am not religious so I don't give into that bullshit that it was for a reason, it was her time, etc...

it wasn't her time. She was simply phobic of doctors and never had her cancer looked after until it was too late. She had about 12 surgeries in about 20 days and died of a heart attack. Not in her sleep.

I feel sooo bad for my poor Charlie. He really loved his mommy. It is strange but I have never cried so much at a funeral before. I didn't know her that well, and wasn't sure how much I liked her (everytime she saw me she said I should lose some weight and I don't consider myself fat).

She also expressed absolute surprise that I don't cook dinner every night for her son, nor do I do his ironing. I had to kindly explain to her that he arrives home (mine completely by the way) from work on the average about 2 hours before me. I am a working woman, a kind of creature she wasn't too knowledgeable about.

I am talking smack but she didn't need to die. I cant tell his family this but I feel that the clinic she was at royally fucked up. After her first (of MANY) intestinal surgery the first solid food they gave her was Picadillo - a Spanish dish made of ground beef, olives, raisins, and onions. That's right - beef - after having parts of her intestine removed. When I saw that I wondered what kind of quack hospital is this.

After the emergency surgeries started becoming alarmingly frequent I was very worried but still utterly shocked when I got the call that his mamman had died (they are French). She was only 56 and a sexy an vivacious woman. The dress she had bought to wear to our wedding was a slinky little number with cut-outs on the side and very low cut.

Instead she wears it for eternity.

I wanted to see her in that dress but I couldn't because to ship some one who has died (cant say "body") you have to put them in a sealed casket lined with lead. No open casket at this funeral.

I hate American funeral wreaths. I find them repulsive, not to mention tacky. The French ones are nice though. They are more like bouquets and baskets, not these monstrous round banner and flower covered plaques we use in the states.

I want to keep going but am at work and feel as if I will break down any minute now. I hope to continue this later.

Not very cheery.