"I cheat the light to check my face.... It's slightly harder than last year"

".... And all at once it gets hard to take..... It gets hard to fake what I won't be....."

and that pretty much sums it up right there.

John always knows what to say.

Smut.... it's what I'm reading while you're reading this!

Wine.
It's tasty. And also, it makes me want to say things to people that I probably shouldn't say. All that alcohol induced honesty could be hazardous to ones health. Not mine. But perhaps folks that get their panties in knots when folks tell them things they know but didn't want to hear. A few examples would be... wow, you have some poor decision making skills. Another would be... you are quite desperate, aren't you?

Which kind of brings me to my point. There's gotta be a fine line between being honest and saying what's on your mind and being an adult and saving face, keeping your mouth shut, and walking away from drama. I actually had a much older colleague come in to my office and gossip about another colleague yesterday. And the entire time she sat there bending my ear I thought, wow, am I suddenly in high school again? I turned to my much older colleague and said something like- well, this is what it is to be an adult, sometimes you work with people that you may not get along with, but you have to be an adult and ignore it and do what you have to do. Not everybody can get along with everybody.

What I wanted to say? Totally different. I wanted to say what I thought of her small-mindedness and ignorance. And what I really wanted to say? STFU, you're obnoxious, and I really don't care that you have beef with someone else. I'm not your friend. But. I have a sober-induced filter and I have to work with her everyday. So. I refrained. I politely changed the subject to coffee and creamer and moved on.

These people in this world that are all- I say what I want to say and I don't care. I kinda think they care. I kinda think they want the attention of being shocking and stirring the pot and the attention
that they claim not to want and that they also ridicule and claim to be the victim of.... they need it. They thrive off it. They would wither up and rock in the fetal position without it. This irritates me. Go get therapy and stop whipping the masses into hysterics of persecution that you later claim to be the victim of.

I am trying to say something important here. Really I am. Other than some people need to realize they need therapy- myself included... Sometimes it's ok to keep your thoughts to yourself. Sometimes it's ok not to update social media regarding the size and shape of your poo or how many times you blew your nose today and what color it was. Sometimes it's ok not to get along with people and keep the thoughts to yourself. The inner machinations of the mind are an enigma and it's ok to keep them that way. Because guess what folks? This is the real world and we are all grown ups and this isn't high school anymore!

THANK GOD- because high school was painful and awkward and embarrassing and the only thing I could imagine wanting back from that time in my life.... is the body I had when I though I was fat but was actually thin and perky........

and now I'm going to put down my wine glass and go read my smut novel... because I read smut novels. Don't judge.

too damn much.... an un-proofread blog

Sweet music is flowing tonight in my ears. Mostly because I just found my mp3 player that's been MIA for quite some time. Well that's partly why. The other part is this... there is too much.

On the surface that sentence appears completely incomplete. Perhaps. But trust me when I tell you, it is incompletely complete.

Too much anger, too much pain, too much resentment, too much crying. I haven't been able to write. It just won't come out. I don't know that it will here either, but it's a start.
Too much responsibility, fear, anxiety, illness, emptiness, loneliness, darkness.
When does a body have enough? For a while I felt like I was trudging onward. Soldiering on. Shrugging it all off. But the fact of the matter is this, I've been soldiering on yes, but burying feelings underneath a facade of cheerful cynical sarcasm- if such a thing exists. So basically sweeping the important stuff under rug because it's too much to deal with. And this last week, for whatever reason the too much really has become too damn much. I'm screaming at children, and cutting myself off from everyone because I hurt. I remind myself of a wounded animal. I'm just going to sit over here looking all pitiful (blogging) but don't touch me or I will freaking bite you and give you rabies.

And the really pissy part? I'm just dealing with every day life. And yet I'm struggling. I'm drowning. Currently considering drowning myself in this bottle of wine. Although I know I will just wake up with a headache and the continued 'too much responsibility'.

I seem to have misplaced my boot straps. Probably because I broke the heal off my boots just the other day....

Screw the boot straps. I need something a bit more substantial. A lifeboat? A tow strap?

*insert cheerful cynical sarcasm here*

yes, well, I prefer to be alone anyway.... apparently.

Things that are not wonderful:

A comprehensive list by yours truly...

1. Whooping Cough
2. X-husbands
3. dogs with itchy asses
4. dishes in the sink from last night
5. laundry that's been in the washer for 5 days. seriously? someone should see to that! jeesh!
6. the shits
7. boob pain
8. boob sweat

9. and since we're talking about boobs... that feeling when one boob feels bigger than the other and your bra suddenly becomes unbearably uncomfortable.

10. toddles that get up half a dozen times a night and stand at the side of your bed all children of the corn like and rouse you from a peaceful sleep because they saw... a shadow... every night, for the last week!

11. toddlers that stay up past midnight. (WTF?!- I can't find the batteries on this kid!)

12. dogs that lick their itchy parts. OMG STFU

13. waking up at the ass crack of dawn, forcing small uncooperative children out of bed, leaving them at a sitters, working a menial job with ridiculous, humorous pay, picking those children back up at the end of the day, feeding them, bathing them, putting them to bed... only to realize you're to exhausted to even watch the 10 o'clock news... sad sad sad
14. cancer. cancer can suck my toe and kiss my ass.
15. quazi-deployments

16. dog farts

17. fleas
18. grass that is hip high that no one wants to mow
19. possums.... eating your garbage
20. split ends
21. gray roots

22. no time to get to a hair appointment, unless your kids could like sit on your lap while you get your hair done, and well, that's not gonna happen.

23. Feeling inferior ... daily
24. not smoking. even though you know it's a good thing that you don't... but still wanting to do it... but not actually doing it
and the 25th thing that is not wonderful?

An Empty Wine Bottle!

Oops. 

My bad.

That's gonna suck in the morning.

Oh well.

CHEERS!

Have you ever been so pissed off...

If there were a cactus and gloves nearby, I would seriously considered it at the moment. Not entirely sure who I would swing it at, but there is potential for some great satisfaction.
I am this mad.

You want some of this?

You wanna hear some random shit, do you? Do you? Huh? Do you? Because that's what I'm sellin' here and don't let anyone tell you anything different. There are turkeys running around in the woods across the road. I can hear those little buggers and I'm thinkin they would be awfully tasty after a trip to my oven covered in herbs and butter and then slathered in tasty gravy. Not the dry stuff I ate yesterday... that I didn't make. I wanted ham.. I didn't get it. I'm being a whiney biatch. Whatevs. Mostly I'm pissed that Sgt. Dad ate the last of my homemade salsa and I got none. But mostly I'm pissed because of this whole... he doesn't have a job thing and might just go back to the contracting bit. It's definitely got my shorts in a knot and it's definitely making me pissed off at the world, which should be fun when I go to work tomorrow. Fake smiles and fake pleasant tones of voice can only last so long before I start to get snippy. The fact that I'm almost totally weaned off my antidepressants... gee... hadn't really thought about that, but I'm sure it's like an undercover spy in this whole pissed off at the world game. Andd I just spent 3 minutes looking up the difference between wean and ween because I can't spell. Also, Ween was a band from the 80s.  Thank you Wikipedia for that startling bit of useless information that I will forget in the 3 minutes it took me to find the word I was looking for.

Are you keeping up? I suppose manic would be the best way to describe where I am today. I imagine taking myself off the crazy train that has been cymbalta is most definitely the issue here. I glazed over it in an attempt to make light of it. The truth of the matter is, my crutch is gone, reality is more real and my head is going in 10 different directions at once. During the week I feel like I can't breath. There is no time. I get up at the butt crack of dawn, work a ridiculous job where the pay doesn't even scratch the ratio to responsibility, come home to whining children, a trashed house, and a pissed off husband. Who by my estimate is about to lose his mind in 3... 2..  You get the point. This is not fun. It could be worse, I am certain. Like, at least there is a home to come home to. But right now I feel like I'm drowning, and it totally pisses me off that I can't find a way to appreciate what I do have. And damn it. I want freaking salsa. It's not like I can just hop in the car and drive to the corner store to get some. Nope. The only thing safe to buy from the corner store is smokes and the newspaper and maybe bottled soda. Although that's pushing it. Besides I like to make my own and whelp, I'm feeling way to damn lazy for that.

I'm leaning heavily today on the positivity that often flows from my fellow bloggers. I'm trying anyway. Clicking links and reading and thinking... gee those are all great ideas to help battle the beast I battle, but in the end, today anyway, I'm feeling defeated. Defeated in the sense that... I'm too lazy to motivate myself to do anything about the way I feel, so I instead I'm just gonna lay here and fester. People do that. It's ok. We can't all be happy everyday. That would be freakin creepy. Like Walking Dead creepy but with happy people. Btw- Walking Dead? Yea. Don't care. I watched 5 minutes of it. A little zombie kid came stumbling out of a barn and they killed it. No thanks. I don't need nightmares about my kids turning all children of the corn. And I would. Get nightmare that is. I do. I have them all the time. It's just so conducive to a good night's sleep.... pfffftttt....

I should prolly stop here, because as you can see... I have no point... and since I have no point this could ramble on forever and at some point I could understand you sneaking out the back door when you've had enough. It's ok. We all do it. I did it to my son's teacher the other day. That man... he does not shut up. It's a wonder those kids learn anything that class. I digress. Mini-man is now parked next to me with his Leap-pad and he requires assistance with his pirate game. This is obviously more important than blogging ya'll. Sorry. I do have priorities.

I still love you all. Thanks for being here and sticking around and not sneaking out!

Have you seen my stapler?

This last week has been one of the more challenging weeks in recent history for me. Change and adjustment were at the forefront, which, let me be frank, these are not things I am comfortable with. Ya see, I wasn't actively searching for a job, but I got a phone call week before last from someone who, well it's kind of hard to explain. I should call him my previous boss, but he was always more, friend, father figure, support, the list goes on. I made him look good, made his job easy, and he in-turn took care of me by basically allowing me perverse amounts of latitude in my job. It was, I must say, the most epic supervisor/ admin. asst. relationship ever recorded in history. And then the twins came along and I couldn't afford to continue working for him. So this someone calls me week before last and says, hey, I know Sgt. Dad is out of work, and I have a line on a job opportunity that you are perfect for and the place is desperate and you could start ASAP if you want.

Being practical and pragmatic, I jumped at this. I mean, any money is better than no money, and after talking it over with Sgt. Dad we agreed we could do this. The job is only temporary, for a 30 day term, and it could be mine if I so choose.

Question is, do I choose?

I jumped in with both feet, gung ho. Excited. Ready. Even a bit ego-inflated. I was briefed on the status of this particular workplace- things were in a bad state. I'll spare you the boring details, but just know it was sort of a perfect storm of events that resulted in a ridiculous amount of unanswered phone calls Monday morning, and a lot and I mean A LOT of pissed of clients. One day into it and I was ready to stab someone in the foot. The disorganization. The lack of protocols. The assumption that I was well aware of all goings-on and wouldn't require additional training. I sat at that desk at the end of the first day and thought, I am in way over my head here. I came home, got stuck in traffic, cursed repeatedly, pulled into the drive-way and fought the urge to cry. And then I saw the kids and I felt worse and better at the same time. Is that possible?? So glad to be home. So happy to hug them. So sad that I was gone all day. Tuesday was much the same. Then Wednesday, another day of frustration in that office- I was ready to throw the constantly ringing phone out the window. And when I arrived home- Sgt. Dad attempted to bribe me to quit- by saying he would contract out again, go back overseas, and buy me my dream car when he got back- just so I could be home with the kids. Apparently they were rough on him that day, tantrums and toilet training and tears. I even heard the following words, and this is a direct quote you guys- 'I don't know how you did this while I was gone.' Yea, Buddy, this full time SAHM thing isn't as fun as people think it is. Thursday got a bit better, and Friday- well the majority of Friday was sort of fun because I didn't have to sit in the office all day and got to see old work friends and my old boss during a training do-hicky-thingy. (Nice $10 word there, huh?) After finishing the training though, it was back the office, to figure more shit out on my own with my current supervisor no where in sight. WTF dude? I've been here 5 days and I'm supposed to run this shit? For the piddly shit I'm getting paid? You've got to be kidding me. Frustration can not even begin to describe the feeling. I came home, bitched and whined, and complained all night and then promised not to say another word about it for the rest of the weekend. Because you know, it's just a job. So instead of saying anything out loud, I'm here, typing away, getting things off my chest.

As much anxiety as I harbor I've always known that there are some things that I'm damn good at. I was sure that this would be easy. I could handle this. Not so much. At least not yet. I'm gonna regroup, drink wine, hug my family, and stop thinking about it. And come Monday morning, I'm gonna pull up my big-girl-granny-panties, and attempt to dig in again. If there are no protocols and no organization, perhaps it's time to make some.....
and if my supervisor doesn't go get his own stapler some time soon....


















HOOAH!
and Happy St. Pat's day ya'll!!
As always- thanks for reading!!