Wednesday, July 21, 2010


By this time, everyone and their goldfish has heard of or used the phrase "Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now." It's so overused, but for good reason. Obviously, I'm not the only person that realizes that this existence needs just a tad more "oomph" to it. After being raised on birthday candles, shooting stars, and the breaking of the Thanksgiving turkey wishbone, we just can't, as a society, give up on the notion that when things go to shit you can simply wish it all away. And yes, I like commas. But I digress.

Anyway, why is it so difficult for us to give up on "traditions" (so to speak) that are so obviously bologna (thanks, Grandma H!) even after we've learned our lesson time and time again? When does it (if ever) become OK to retire the grand ol' past time of wishin' and hopin' and prayin'? When can we throw in the towel and say, "I gave it a good, honest effort and now it's time to move on"? What and who decides that it was a good, honest effort to begin with? I've been applying to anything and everything for the past 14 months and haven't gotten any offers. When can I say, "Just screw it!" and give up?! Hmm... Maybe AFTER my credit card, student loans, and back rent to my mother is paid off... So that's another, say, 30 years? Well, another 30 years IF I get a job oh say LAST YEAR! As is the cliche of life, IT'S JUST NOT FAIR!

I look at dozens of websites and every time I get to the log in page, I want to cry. I just want to bawl my eyes out like the newborn baby I feel like I really am. Tonight? I went down to the liquor cabinet and surrounded myself with about 10 bottles of liquor and contemplated how much of each one I could drink before I got sick. Big deal, for someone who rarely drinks. Every inch of me screamed, "BECOME AN ALCOHOLIC! THEN YOU'D HAVE AN EXCUSE TO BE POOR AND JOBLESS!" Then I'd have a legitimate excuse to feel guilty when my mom loses her house because she can't afford her payments. Sidenote: I realize it's not my responsibility to pay for her home, but she's given me money for so many things and I've paid back what I could but she's still out thousands of dollars- thousands of dollars of which could have gone towards house payments and bills. Not cool. What if she's homeless? What if she loses everything? She's already lost so much, it's just not fair for her to lose the one thing she has left.

I don't want a job so I can buy a fancy house, or a fancy car, or other fancy things. I want a job so I can make sure my mom isn't homeless. So I can make sure she's not miserable anymore. I can't stand waking up in the morning because I can't stand looking at her. I can't stand seeing her sad, beaten down, and defeated face. She even slumps when she walks now. She is such a small person emotionally that it has now officially made her a small person physically. And I can't help but think that if I made just $20,000 a year that would take the world off her shoulders. She's not the woman I knew ten years ago. And I know it's because of my father. But then again, if she really was that strong woman she was ten years ago, it probably wouldn't have phased her if my dad screwed her over again. She would have just pushed through it. Right? I know I wouldn't feel so guilty about her pain if I didn't have to see it and live through it everyday. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

I feel as though I failed her as a daughter. I failed her because I had this passion for 15 years and then it comes time to realize it, and suddenly that passion just disappears. I no longer want to do what I had my heart set on. So I'm lost. I finish a degree that I don't even want anymore. So I don't learn about the most effective ways to get a job in that industry. Which leads to a jobless, slacker, ghost version of me. People my age are getting amazing jobs. They're getting married, buying houses, having kids. They're growing up. And I'm stuck in this loop that just never ends. I just want to find passion again. Passion that leads to a job. Passion that leads to a job that leads to taking off unnecessary pressure thrown onto my mother.

And God help me, I just want to stop complaining!

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

When you wake up, the world will come around.

Taking some time before work. So this will most likely be all over the place. But over the last 10 months, all I've ever felt is all over the place, so I guess it's fitting. 

My childhood home has officially been sold. Many people would think, "Big deal, so what? Everybody moves." But you don't get it. This is the only home I've known for 22 1/2 years. This is the home I grew up in with my mom's gardens- made up of roses, lilacs, vegetables, sunflowers, daffodils, tulips, and thousands of others- that span the entire back yard. The home boasting one of (if not THE) biggest backyards in my entire city. The huge pool. The shed I helped repaint. My first dog buried in the backyard, along with the hamsters and guinea pigs that I just HAD to have. I wasn't ready for this. I feel like my life has just been taken out of my hands and decided for me by someone that really doesn't give a damn about the repercussions. I don't know whether to blame God or my own father. I've been losing faith in God for years now, and pretty much gave up all hope right around my graduation. But my father has committed some of the most desperate acts of betrayal in just the last few months. What can I say, he's good at ruining lives. 

I'll be the first to admit, I don't like change. I never have. I have a crisis every time something changes on me. I, with the help of my oh-so-wonderful-brother, ruined my graduation night because of my fear. Same with my high school graduation, minus the brother part and adding the mother and boyfriend into the mix. So I guess this could just be my horrible way of dealing with something every adult has to face eventually. But I really truly believed my parents were going to live in that house forever. There were no signs of anything pointing otherwise until my dad had his stupid crisis. 

Not done yet- but unfortunately it's time for work. Which, I will have to give up a couple weeks' pay so I can go home early and help my mom move sooner than expected. Thanks again, Dad!

Sunday, January 25, 2009


So I just wanted to write this down before I forgot about it. There's a ton of background that should be given first so that this is more easily understood, but I don't have time for that just yet since I should be leaving for work literally right this minute. But I'll get to it later, I promise.

My car alarm wouldn't stop going off today for no good reason. I was sitting here, watching some episodes of "Head Case" on Netflix (hilarious, btw), and heard this stupid car alarm going off. I started getting really really annoyed. Then it would shut itself off and start blaring about 30 seconds to a minute later. So I figured it couldn't be mine since someone else was obviously turning it off, otherwise it would go on continuously forever, right? Wrong. I finally decided, "what the heck? why not try my keyfob and see if it'll turn off that godforsaken car alarm?" And it did. For about 15 seconds. This went on for 2 hours. I didn't know what to do! I finally called my boyfriend (a very good mechanic at a very good company and also for a dragster team- sorry had to brag for a sec) and he thinks it's the wiring gone bad (on a 1 1/2 year old car???? We'll see about that...). But I finally did what he said and just unlocked/relocked it with the actual key and not the keyfob. So far, it hasn't gone off. Yet.

The whole point of this post is mostly that I figured out I'm becoming way too much like my father and it's scaring the hell out of me. I'm convinced my dad's a paranoid schizophrenic. Later blog posts will explain this further- again, I'm running late for work. Anyway, the whole time I kept telling Don "I swear, someone is screwing with me. Someone is setting off my car alarm and trying to mess with my head!" He kept explaining that it takes a lot to make an alarm go off and that unless I've seen someone running up to it and doing stuff to the car (which I didn't- and yes, I did sit there and watch), it must be faulty wiring or something else happening to the alarm itself. But still, I couldn't shake the feeling that my annoying neighbors were messing with me. I was (and sort of still am) convinced that they were screwing with me and trying to get back at me for making noise complaints about their stupid dog that barks incessantly for hours on end (I'm toying with calling animal control because no dog should be left alone for that long to begin with, but that's a post for another day as well). But yeah. Am I becoming as pschotically paranoid as I'm sure my father is? Should I seek help? This is scary. The fact I can realize that it's wrong of me to jump to the conclusion that some person is behind this is a good sign, right? Hmm. We'll see. But I really need to get to work so I will be back later. Adios.