Squishing About in My Brain

Archive for October 2010

I am going to use my blog to apologize for rudeness…mine. Alyssa and Danette and Laura the Red: I AM SO SORRY.

It matters not what excuses I make or have—not following through is RUDE, and I sincerely apologize.

Laura: I am sorry I never returned your calls when I first got back. My life was a mess and I just couldn’t pick  up the damn phone to reach out. I AM SO SORRY. That was fucking rude. I am sorry I blew you off.  I sitll hope to meet your wife and dog someday.

Danette: I AM SO SORRY I did not RSVP to the baby shower, after I said I would go, in conversation. When I got my schedule and realized I had to work, I thought, “I’ll call tomorrow.” Then a few days later, I thought, “Maybe I can get the day off. Someone may want the hours…” Then a week later, when I KNEW I was not going to make it, I STILL forgot to call you. And THEN, that weekend, I had the flu, and totally forgot about the party anyway. That is what happened, but it is still no excuse. I was rude to blow it all off. I apologize.

Alyssa: when I came home from work last Wednesday, I fell asleep at 3 p.m. and stayed asleep most of the night…I totally forgot about calling you to discuss what we planned. To make it worse, I JUST realized I had blown it off LAST NIGHT…almost a week later. I am a putz…I apologize. Sincerely. No excuse…I was rude. I am sorry.I will send you an email with the info I imagine you will need, and if you have already taken care of it all yourself, GO YOU! Otherwise, I apologize again.

I am not afraid to be wrong. I am not afraid to admit when I am rude or stupid or just forget shit.

But I am sincerely sorry for rudeness. I do not like people to blow me off, and I always try to treat others as I expect to be treated.


Sometimes I just suck.


Yes, technically, I should mean flown. But Flu is what is really going on. I went to work Friday, did my favorite part of the job, which entails me and a heavy-ish handheld scanner, scanning every box off the truck and marking it backstock if it is backstock, clearance if it is clearance, etc. (I know that doesn’t SOUND like a blast, but I really enjoy it. AND my arms are getting TONED, dude!) I am probably also getting poisoned by the black marker that I use, because I cannot seem to manage NOT to mark myself at some point during the process, but that probably won’t kill me. Probably. Or at least not soon. So, did that, went on to do the hanging, and about 3 hours into my shift, I got light-headed. Like, I turned around to hang something on a rack, and my steps faltered and my head swam. Disturbing. Made me say, “Whoa” out loud. Made my coworker ask if i was okay, and ask me if I should go home. Well, probably. Anyone who knows me at all well knows that I generally refuse to give in to illness when at all possible. Some would call this stubborn. Some would call this foolish. Some would call this complete and total idiocy. I prefer to call it “strength of will”, myself. Be that as it may, I continued working until the hanging was done, but to tell the truth I was getting some tunnel vision and stayed light-headed for most of the hang. But I have a work ethic and I just WANTED TO GET MY JOB DONE, dammit! However, once the hanging was done, I had to give in. I went and found my lead and I must’ve looked like crapola because she gave me no troubles and just said, “Okay. Call us if you aren’t coming in tomorrow.” Which was nice, because I wasn’t very coherent. I believe that my answer to, “Is everything okay?” was along the lines of, “No. No. I’m getting really light-headed. And I’m getting kinda (insert two handed gesture attempting to represent tunnel vision)…” (Please note that my…strength of will…would not allow me, even then, to admit I was sick…note the use of the word “getting” when the truth was I had already done GOT.) So I went home five hours into my eight hour shift. On a day when we had a LOT of work to do, and probably all had to stay late to complete it. *sigh* I had the timing illness chooses. It ticks me off. It makes me guilt-ridden. I met a coworker on the way out and she said i was paaaaale. I promised to just SIT in my car until i knew I could drive. Se reminded me to call in at night so I didn’t have to get up at 4 a.m. to call myself in. Good idea. I made it home. I went to bed. I slept for five hours. HARD. When I awoke, I was hoping for a blissful feeling-better vibe. Nope. Worse. It didn’t help that my PMS has started the night before, so my boobs already freaking hurt like Hades, but NOW, on top of “normal” bodily aches, my “allergies” or “cold” were, undeniably, the fucking FLU. Now, before anyone jumps in to remind me that they make a dandy flu vaccine and that my workplace was offering them to us, let me digress to tell you a story about flu vaccines. Flu vaccines (I have been informed by a medical practioner) are based on…well, chickens. So, people who are allergic to eggs are not supposed to get these vaccines. I am NOT allergic to eggs, so I got one a few years back. Got sick as hell. Sicker than I would have been had i NOT gotten one. And for longer. Oh wait…I am not allergic to EGGS. I love eggs. But I am allergic to FEATHERS. Dam.Mit. Guess who stopped getting flu shots a few years ago, having only had one? Yep. So, you can see, I was not just foolishly taking my life into my own hands and flouting the almighty vaccine for no reason. I had damn good reason. Like, a previous ten-day experience of reasons which I am completely unwilling to repeat. EVER. So, I got the flu this week. I am sure my period coming (and she is, believe you me…she is on her way) just lowered my immunity enough to let that damned flu slip right in when I wasn’t looking. Cheeky bastard bug. I didn’t go to work today. I am not going tomorrow. I WANT to go Monday, as being stuck in bed for three days has already made me cranky and stir-crazy…and this is still only day TWO. But today, after drinking juice (with NO gin, I may add; try not faint with the shock) and sleeping almost the whole day with frequent unhappy awakenings overnight, my fever broke. Sing HAAAAALLL-LAAAAY-LUUUU-YAH! people. First thing I noticed, as I became less delirious?…I reek. Seriously. Sweating out a cold can really leave you feeling not-so-fresh. It’s like those not-so-fresh commercials (was it Massengill? I cannot remember right now) from the 80s, except the mom would have replied, “Yeah, but even when I feel that way, I don’t stink as much as YOU, daughter! DAMN!” Know what I learned? I am not well enough to stand up in the shower for long enough to do a good job. Luckily I figured this out immediately and with a deft twist of a knob and insertion of a plug, VOILA! a bath transpired. And then I l earned something else: my parents’ bathtub?…not as big as mine in Santa Cruz. The relaxing bath of which I dreamt? Did not happen. WAAAY too uncomfortable. But I no longer reek! I now smell lovely, thanks to Philosophy’s Eggnog bath/shower/shampoo concoction. I smell yummy. And I am still freaking exhausted. Fucking flu.










So, after I moved back to Iowa in July, I looked for “THE job!”, which is like searching for the Holy Grail without benefit of Arthurian knights, to be honest. But I soon figured out that, really, I want to start my own artsy biz, so a full time job with bennies (which most people (including my mom) think is the be-all-end-all of job requirements!) was not REALLY what I wanted to do.

I signed my ass up for “welfare” again–and no, I do not feel guilty; I have been working since 16, and paid my taxes when I owed, so…THAT IS WHAT IT IS THERE FOR! (don’t get me started—ahem) ANYHOO…I applied to places I would like, like the public library, Animal Rescue League, museums, etc. for a part time job. After 2.5 months, still no job. Car payment couldn’t get paid. We were eating though—thanks State of Iowa programs!—but without a JOB-job, I feared I would living with my folks and lose the car and be miserable forever.

So…I applied at Target, for a peon job which I have been informed is “WAY below your skill level and intelligence.” Well, thanks for that ego boost, but the truth is: I like my  job. It is exactly what I expected it to be. It ain’t brain surgery (which I am NOT licensed to do, by the way, but could read up on techniques well enough to do it in case of Apocalyptic Tragedy, if needs be.) Some days my job is just like playing “Which of these things is not like the others” on Sesame Street! I LIKE IT. And I work in hanging clothes a lot, which I became pro at from the time of my child’s birth up to the present—my job is just like picking up after children most of the time! It is a job that I can leave behind when I go home. I need not think of it, even once, once I leave the building.

That is a bigger relief than I expected.

Someone, who will remain nameless, informed me that I would get bored and not be able to hack a dull job, after all the responsibility and importance of my last job; that I would need my “in charge” fix. …they were wrong. I am very happy being a part time cog in the system.

In theory, this gives me plenty of time to paint and knit and get my biz off the ground.

Theories are nice.

But not always realistic when put into practice.

I work Flow, from 4 a.m. to noon:thirty, four days a week, lately with an additional five hour shift on Sundays from 8-1.

I could do without the Sundays, as two days off was enough to let my feet recover from the work I do, but overall…fine.

The thing is…well…I am exhausted all the time. I get home and need a nap by three.

I find I don’t even have the energy to create anything, or even knit and watch a movie, most days.  Which is what I WANT to do.

And, of course, there is the Catch-22 where when I make a certain amount of money, my state benefits get cut, even though I do not make enough to actually support myself and my daughter, and still have a car. Or afford to move out of my folks’ house.

And I am still a car payment behind anyway…I no longer make that big ole (comparatively) salary Bestan paid me when I lived in California.

So, let’s see…bills not getting paid, working over 30 hours a week, tired all the time, not enjoying life at 41…

Maybe I really DIDN’T want to go back to work…and maybe I have to change this sooner rather than later.




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