Update on Life

It dawned on me that my last post was kind of crappy and maybe I should update the 2 or 3 readers I do have.   When last we met I was going for an MRI to assess what exactly was going on in my coochie.  My first MRI.  I was cocky as hell when they asked me, several different times, if I was claustrophobic.  "No, not at all," I said with swagger.  So off I went with my friend AS in tow for moral support.  To say everything leading up to the MRI was a debacle would be an understatement. I was sent to the wrong area of the hospital.  I had the wrong body part to MRI listed on my order. Everywhere we went there was no actual employee of the hospital, just volunteers who are minimal help.  And when we finally get to the MRI location, the volunteer there is a dead ringer for Fred Gwynne!  

After a brief wait, Herman Munster informs me that they are ready for me and a technician comes out to get me.  We go back, I put on some ginormous scrub pants because I foolishly wore jeans not thinking that the zipper can't go into the machine.  I'm lead to the the scary ass looking MRI machine, lay down and get some earphones.  I ask them to put on 91.3 the Summit because it doesn't have commercials and I would most likely hear something good.

OK... I'm ready, the table starts moving and suddenly my swagger is GONE!!!  My palms start to sweat, my head gets dizzy and I want to put my arms up and stop the table from moving into the big freaking iron lung looking thing.  OMG!   I had no idea I'd be so terrified by it.  But I was.   I really really was.   After a little reassurance from the techs, the table started moving again and I started to freak out, but then they said, "that's as far as we're going."  Phew!   My head was still out of the machine and I could see the ceiling.   I felt so relieved, still nervous and stuff, but relieved that I could see out.  That is until the radio came on and I heard these words, "And now John Fogarty in concert!"  Oh shit, are you telling me I have to listen to John Fogarty live for the next 40 minutes!? What have I done!   I couldn't change it now, they started.  Well luckily it was only one song and after that I actually heard some great stuff that helped calm me tremendously (Siouxie, Iggy, Echo and the Bunnymen, Bowie).  It is true that music can sooth the savage beast.  And after one little snafu, I was done in about 50 minutes.   My friend AS was getting worried and I think she ended up asking Herman Munster if I was ok.  He didn't know, of course.

My doctor called on Monday (since the MRI was a Friday) and indicated some worry.   It turns out that there was still no definitive answer as to what was lodged in my cooter, but she was certain it had to be removed and soon.  She also was sure this would be an OR situation because the size was even more significant than they expected.  I opted to have this done immediately, much to my doctors relief.  She told me later that she was thinking that this was something very very bad because the location was unusual and the tests were inconclusive.  Surgery was scheduled for the following Wednesday and I would be out of work for at least 2 weeks (I work Jan-Apr).

While all this was going on, Mom's dog was undergoing his own trauma.  Turns out he had been munching on his blankie on and off for who knows how long, weeks, possibly months.  So much so that he was no longer able to pass the wool that accumulated in his little belly (he's a toy poodle). This little guy was very very sick.  He ended up having surgery the day before I did.  Mom was supposed to come to the hospital with me, but now her other baby was sick and he was unable to do so.  Instead I decided I'd go visit her the night before my surgery and maybe we could calm each other down.  I was scared and worried.  The lingering idea that I might have cancer was still there. At this point I was no longer getting much reassurance from my doctor.

When I got to mom's she informed me that we had to go pick up the little guy from the vet and take him to the animal clinic so he could be monitored overnight and her vet didn't offer that service.  This might be the last thing I want to do the night before surgery but I do.  And it's insane.  The little guy had a huge ball of wool removed and a third of his intestines.  He's still pretty doped up but we take him and go to the clinic to drop him off.  This was not a quick and easy undertaking and it ended up taking, all totaled, about 4 hours.  At this point it is too late for me to eat so I never got dinner that night and I never got to express my own fears.  When I left my mom's at almost 10 pm, I cried the whole way home.  I was scared, upset and had gotten no reassurance or comfort because the pooch needed it more.  I'm not saying this because I'm bitter or blame my mom.  It's just how I felt at that time... scared, nervous.   I had to be at the hospital at 5:30 am.  I was a mess of emotions, and yes worried about the pooch too.

The morning of surgery I took some anti-anxiety meds that I have since they told me I could and it helped tremendously.  After checking it, it all becomes a blur as drugs are administered and things get underway.  The last thing I remember is moving myself from the gurney to the OR table, looking up at the lights and then being woken up in the recovery room and having to pee like mad!  A nurse came and walked me to the bathroom, and this ended up being the first of several hobbly wobbly journeys to the restroom in recovery.

Luckily I was able to go home that afternoon and didn't have to stay overnight.  But to say my recovery was horrible would probably be an understatement.  In fact, now, 3 months later, I'm still not completely recovered.  I was unable to sit without leaning to the side for 2 weeks.  I had to use icepacks and take pain medications.  I said often that the irony of the situation is that I spent 50 years not having kids only to end up dealing with the aftermath of childbirth!   Just my luck.

Happily the baseball that was removed from my lady bits was nothing terrible.  In fact, the doctors don't even really know how/why I got it or what it actually was.   Oh they analyzed it and were able to determine that it was comprised of fatty tissue, fibrous tissue and hematoma, but there is no name for it other than vulvar mass and it was completely benign.  I'm extremely lucky and I know it and am so grateful for it.

The ordeal is behind me, but I can't help but have a small worry in the back of my mind that it will reappear.   I try not to, but it's difficult to ignore.  It showed up out of nowhere, with no explanation so who's to say it won't happen again?  And I do still have lingering sensation in the area.   In fact, sometimes I feel like a dude... constantly aware of my genitals.  But I'm good.  :)

Bullet Train to 50

Well, my lose 50 by 50 diet failed miserably.  No, that's not exactly true.  It started out great but then it failed miserably.  But this doesn't mean I won't try again.  I will.  But with only 10 more days to that big day, it's not going to happen on time.

I'm trying to come to terms with that number.  That 5, that 0.  It seems so evil.  50.  I guess my problem with it all is that I don't feel 50.  I really don't.  Mentally I feel about 18 maybe.   Physically, well sometimes I feel older than 50 especially this week *cough* *sneeze* *wheeze*.   Fifty means more than half my life is over.  It means I'm no closer to doing the things I want to do.  It means I have to start thinking about things like retirement funds and AARP and life insurance.  All that is just too adult.  I'd rather be going to a concert or thinking about that fabulous pair of Fluevog's I want to buy.   I don't want to think about who's going to take care of me in my old age.  

Sometimes I feel like I've missed out on some great times.  Actually I don't just think it, I know it. When the one you're with has no zest for life, no interest in exploring the world, no desire at all to do anything other than maintain the mundane life that he's leading, eventually a few things happen. You fall right into the same rut, which I did, for far too long.  Or you snap out of it and decide to do the things you want to do, with or without him.  Which is now what I have been doing.  Life is too short, far too short.  Yesterday I was making my First Communion in second grade and in 10 days I turn 50. WTF!?  

I have learned through the years to never declare something I am "determined" to do.  I think it sets one up for failure.  But I would like to secure a full time job (yes, still looking even though I have a pretty great temporary job that I will be going back to soon), I would like to travel, I would like to make a commitment to fun.  

I don't know, does that seem attainable?

She's Alive... ALIVE!!

Friday night I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland to see the documentary about the band The Damned, "Don't You Wish We Were Dead".   It was the only area screening of the film, it was about a band I love, and it was free.  What more could anyone ask for?  I'd been looking forward to this night for weeks.  The man even wanted to go.  Shocking I know.  The man has made it his life mission to never experience anything outside of Akron ever again, or at least it seems like.

From the moment we parked the car I knew it was going to be a great night.  I even found a rare, lucky free street spot near the Rock Hall, further solidifying that this is going to be a great night.  We took our seats, our friend V having come with us, and very soon a representative from the Rock Hall came out to speak for a few minutes, then he introduced the director, Wes Orshoski, who also spoke briefly.  Now it's time for the movie!

The movie was fantastic!  I loved ever single minute of it.  The attention to detail, the flow, the personalities, the history, and the music... oh my god, the music!   And while the outcome of the movie is a little sad, this fan was left very very happy with the experience.

But it's the aftermath that compelled to write today.  Being out, in Cleveland, the city I love, being a part of the music scene I love.  This is what it's about.  This is what makes me feel alive.  I didn't run into anyone I knew at the movie.  I didn't need to.  I just needed to be there, and feel all the feels.   And experience the music.  Be out.  Be involved.  Enjoy life.  It's times like these that I never feel more alive.  It may seem like a large reaction to just going to a movie, but it's part of a bigger picture. That feeling of being alive, it gives me peace as well as piece of mind in knowing that the decisions I have made for myself, the actions I'm going to take, are the right ones.  I'm addicted to feeling alive.  I crave the feeling.  I want it more and more.   So I have to ask myself again... if not now, when?  The answer is now.  Taking my life back is the best thing I ever did.

Progress

My lose 50 by 50 Diet officially commenced on August 3.  I had planned on starting it earlier than that but life gets in the way what with birthdays, graduations and all kinds of other events. Unfortunately the diet kind of got shoved off to the side.

But I'm in it to win it now and it's going rather well.  In fact I'm quite proud of myself.  I've dieted many many times before and for some reason, this time it feels different.  Maybe because of the goal. Lose 50 by 50 has a nice ring to it.  I like it. And I have another goal in mind, one that would lead to the same time frame.  I'm going to leave it at that for now, but suffice it to say it involves a dream of mine, and one that I want to make a reality around my birthday.  

And in that amount of time... 10 days to be exact, I have lost 6.6 pounds.  It feels good!   Losing makes me happy.  Stepping on the scale in anticipation instead of dread is an amazing feeling. I've been using the help of an app called MyFitnessPal.  It works a lot like Weight Watchers, where you are accountable for everything you eat.  But it also calculates your activity and gives you more calories for the day based on how much you move.  It's a handy little tool.   And it's free.

For the most part, I am following the aforementioned advice by my friend and dieting quietly (aside from telling all the world via this blog that is... or the 15 or so that read it anyway ha).  I don't make a big deal about it, I don't post about it on Facebook, I just go about my biz and quietly (hopefully) continue to lose weight.

I feel excited for the first time in a long time... goals are a good thing to have.  And while my work life is only slightly improved, my personal life is kind of in the shitter, I'm still feeling good.  I'm doing more for myself.  I came to the realization a few years ago, as I watched life passing me by, that if not now...when?  The answer is now.  I'm fabulous and I plan on living my life to reflect it!

Join me on the journey!   We're going to have a blast!!!!   

Ask Me If I Care

More and more I find myself thinking, "ask me if I care" about any and everything.   I suppose that's a byproduct of the unhappiness I find myself unable to break out of.  At the same time it's troubling, yet liberating.  Troubling because it makes me think I've become cold and unfeeling.  Liberating because the reality is that I have stopped giving a shit about the people who don't give a shit about me.

Example, I saw today on Facebook that the man's niece got engaged.  Ask me if I care.  I don't.  Over the years it has become more and more clear to me that these two girls (the nieces) don't give a shit about me at all.  I have been in their lives since they were 5 and 6 years old.  I gave them gifts for every birthday and Christmas for all of those years until a few years ago when they started having kids and instead bought for the kids.  I have always been kind to them.  Have always treated them well.  But over the past few years I have backed away from them (and most of the man's family) because I never felt the same kind of care/respect in return.  For my 40th birthday the two nieces and their boyfriends gave me a single $2 instant lottery ticket.  I'm not saying they should shower me with gifts.  It's an example of the lack of interest/care that I feel from the man's family.   And when my dad passed away this past January, I heard nothing from them.   Oh I take that back, one of them posted on my Facebook.  The other did not, nor did she call me, nor did she send me a card, nor did she even acknowledge the fact that I lost my dad when I saw her two weeks later.  So excuse me if I'm not jumping up and down with glee over your engagement.

 

But it's more than just that, it's a lot of things.  I just can't muster caring about much of anything.  How is that liberating?  Well, I wasted a lot of time, a lot of heartache, a lot of energy on caring about things that in the big scheme ended up not mattering at all.  Friends who turned out not to be.  Situations that I should have avoided.  Family members who are assholes.  So to get to a point where I can say, "ask me if I care"?  Yeah, it feels liberating in a way.

Don't get me wrong, I still care about the people in my life that I know care about me.  I still love.  I still will do anything for the people who matter most.  Maybe when things change, when I finally get my life moving in the direction I want it moving in I will care again.  And hopefully I've learned enough lessons to spot those insincere phony people without investing too much of my precious time and the enormous amounts of love and friendship I have to give.

Or maybe it's my hormones.

Continuing to Comtemplate

There were so many things that were said the night I met my friend R for drinks.  And so many things I keep thinking about.  So many questions that he asked me that I am now asking myself.  He knows of my unhappiness and my desire to change my life.  But knowing that leads to more questions.   Questions like, are you prepared to be alone for the rest of your life?  And I wonder, am I?  Because that's a possibility I have to face.

On a daily basis I feel bad for feeling how I do.  For wanting this big change knowing it's going to hurt someone who doesn't deserve to be hurt.  That nagging guilt for wanting more punishes me.  I wonder if I can ever truly move on when I feel this way.  Questions lead to more questions and none of them have answers.  Will I punish myself forever for being dissatisfied?  Is it better to live a life you are unhappy in than to hurt someone else?  Do I need to sacrifice forever for the happiness of someone else?   Is it selfish that I want to make myself happy?

A strange thing happened this weekend.  We were at our accountants office to hand in our tax information.  As we talked to him about what's been happening in our lives this past year I started to feel incredibly trapped.  We were talking about my job search and how I've been unable to find a job for so long.  He was encouraging and sweet, as he always is.   And the more he talked the more trapped I started to feel until I really thought I was just going to burst into tears right in his office.   I felt it coming on.  My eyes started to water.  I felt my face flush.  I kept taking deep breaths to keep the tears at bay.  It was really difficult.  I kept wiping my eyes over and over and over.   I don't know if anyone else in the room saw that this was happening, but bursting into tears in my accountants office is not something I wanted to happen.

Trapped.  It's how I felt in that moment and it's how I've felt for far too many years now.  Trapped is not a good feeling.  Nowhere to go.  Nowhere to turn.  No help to be had.  No means to make my life better.  Trapped sucks.  Trapped hurts.

But don't get me wrong, this isn't constant.  I still experience good things.  I still have wonderful friends who are there for me in the best ways they can be.  I still have family who are as supportive as anyone can hope for.  I still have fun and I still laugh.  And the one I don't want to hurt loves me with all his heart and would do anything for me.  But wait, there is it is again… the guilt.  Because he would do anything for me and it's not enough.  That guilt.  That self doubt.  Those moments when I hate myself for feeling how I feel.  They creep back in.

I hate that I have no answers.  I hate that years go by without answers.  And I have to keep asking myself, is being content and complacent the best I can hope for and should I just suck it up and make the best of it?

Contemplative

Last week I went out for drinks with an old friend.  More and more I realize that old friends are the best friends.  Which is not to say newer friends suck, they don't!   But old friends, there is something special about them.  They know you better than anyone else and they love you and have loved you for so long that it's probably never going to change.  There's comfort in that.  If you get into an argument it's so much easier to get past it because you know how much you love that person and how the argument is inconsequential to the big scheme of things.  What I mean is, an old friend isn't going to read this blog and say, I don't know, decide they can no longer be my friend because I write something risqué or I write something they don't agree with.  They will tell me they don't agree with it and we'll discuss the whys and the hows over a cocktail or a whatever.  But in the end the friend will realize that I'm still the person they have always known and it doesn't matter if I write about sex or sadness, or love, or hate or whatever I write about.  Like I said, there's comfort in that.

That's a bit of a digress from where I was going with this entry, but hey don't hate me because I digress! lol   As I was saying, I was out for drinks with an old friend and there was a lot of discussion about what I want in life.  And I didn't have a solid answer.  Maybe because I'm at a standstill.  I can't go up, I can't go down.  I have nowhere to go at the moment.  I have no job and that limits any kind of plan I can ever make for a future.  But since that day, I have been thinking about that question over and over and over. "What is it that you want?"  

This is what I've come up with. I want joy.  I want a life lived.  I want more than getting by week after week and doing the same things.  I want to be happy.  I want good sex.   I want to create great dishes and eat fine food.  I want to laugh and laugh and then laugh some more.  I want to listen to great music.  I want to take pride in what I'm doing for a living and not just exist in a job.  I want to travel and see things I've never seen.  I want more great tattoos.  I want to give love and get love in return.  

Maybe thats a big order to fill, but I don't think it's impossible.  Time probably isn't on my side unfortunately.  I am 48 years old.  Is it too late to live the life I want and think I deserve?  Is it too late to start living for me and not everyone else?  

Suddenly

Suddenly this morning as I was in the shower this old song popped into my mind and I started singing it.  Then it dawned on me, this is my life.

I Could Be Happy

by 

Altered Images

I would like to climb high in a tree
I could be happy, i could be happy
Or go to Skye on my holiday
I could be happy, i could be happy
Maybe swim a mile down the Nile
I could be happy, i could be happy
All of these things i do
All of these things i do
To get away from you
Get away, run away, far away, how do i?
Get away, run away, far away, how do i
Escape from you?

I Have a Life

I've had to go through this my whole adult life.  The idea by others that I don't have a life because either I'm not married, or I don't have kids, or I don't have a job.   Well here's a newsflash, I have a fucking life!!!  I have a pretty full life in fact.  I'm so tired of that mentality I could just scream.  I guess because right now, this minute, it is happening again.

I don't get a say in what time holidays are celebrated because before I was married, I was single and had no life.  Now it's because I don't have kids and have no life.  My plans, my life, they are never considered when family plans are made.  And now it's because I don't have a job.

If you're a regular reader to this blog, you probably know that my father is ill.  He is not going to get better but he could make things easier on himself if he actually did the things the doctors suggested.  He doesn't. When people ask me if he's given up, I tend to say yes.  He has a very poor quality of life which consists of sleeping, eating occasionally, sitting in chair and watching Bonanza reruns or sports, and going to doctors.

Most of his care falls on my mother, and then me.  My mother needs someone to help her get him to appointments.  He is a lot to deal with and she is 82 years old.  He has lost one leg, wears a prosthetic and uses a walker or wheelchair.  He is now facing losing part of his good leg, so there are a lot of doctors and tests and appointments.  It's endless, tiring, stressful.

Herein lies the issue.  Because I don't have a job, it is automatically assumed that I am available to go to these appointments with my mother.  I have 3 siblings, but 2 of them live out of state.  So ideally and logically, these appointments should be split between my brother and I.  I am even willing to take on more because I don't work.  But my brother seems to think that I should do everything.  And when I ask him to do something, he has 100 excuses why he can't.  In fact, he does nothing in regards to helping out with my father.  Nothing.  Last year my mom asked me to take her to Chicago for her aunt's 90th birthday party.  Bro never even offered to come check on OUR father.  And when asked, it was the same thing occurred, more excuses.  Mom had to hire people to come in and check on him, make him meals, etc.

Yesterday was the first of what is going to be many appointments trying to safe dad's leg.  This appointment was 6 hours long.  About 4 hours longer than I had anticipated.  Anything I had planned for that day was void.  When we were leaving that appointment we were told that he will need another next week, and basically to plan on a long visit then too.  Yesterday's appointment was extremely emotionally taxing.  I'm glad I can be there to support them, but I shouldn't have to do everything all the time.  When I got home yesterday I was spent.  Physically drained, emotionally overwrought and truly not in the best of moods.  So I poured myself a glass of wine and went to go relax.  I promptly missed the coaster and the wine went flying.  poured on me, all over the rug, and the glass shattered on the coffee table.  And it was red.  It's at this point that I sat there in a puddle of wine and cried and cried.  It was all too much.

I am not an only child.  I have a life.   I am trying to find a job.  I do job searches every single day.  I apply for jobs almost every day.  I am having trouble with my marriage.  It's all so emotionally draining and I need for someone (ahem.... my brother), to take some of the burden off me.  And he won't.   He just won't.  And it's not fair.  Yesterday I told him he needs to go to some of these appointments and that I can't do it all the time.  His reply was, "you can do it easier than I can!"  So there it is.  I don't have a job, therefore I have no life and this is what... my obligation?

What happens when I finally do get a job?  True I've been looking for a year and half.  But eventually I do expect to get a job.  Then what?   My mom acts the martyr.  While she does understand that we need my brother to step up, if I ever say I can't do it, she will either cancel the appointment he needs or she will say something absurd like they'll just take a cab to the appointment.  But its not just about driving.  It's about going into the exam room with them and listening, taking notes, asking questions.  My mom does none of that.  She is of a generation that blindly accepts whatever the doctors say.  You cannot be that way in this day and age.  I have told her endlessly that she needs to be an advocate but you cannot teach an old dog new tricks.  And here's the clincher... bro's wife is a nurse.  If they went to some of these appointments with them, they would know much better what questions to ask.  As it is, when I do go to appointments, he asks me a million questions and did I ask this, did I ask that.  It's all so fucking annoying and stressful.

How do you get through to people who don't want to listen, don't to step up and do what they should, and then act like it is someone elses (i.e., mine) obligation?

Resentment

Resentment.  That's the word that continues to dominate my thoughts.  And I try, I try so hard not to feel it, think it, live it.  But it gets harder and harder not to.  Because it's there.  It's always there.  I can't ignore it anymore.

I'm trying to establish a life for myself.  I keep trying and I keep failing.  Part of it is my own fault for being unable to secure a job after 11 years out of the workplace.  I waited too long.  I have no one to blame for that but me.  I tell myself that it will happen, that I need to be patient.  Not only with finding a job but with my heart's desire too.  And then it feels like it will never happen.  Circumstances get in my way constantly.

Just today I was taking a shower and a very strong desire to run away from home overtook me.  And I actually started to contemplate it.  To plan for it.  I started to tie up a few loose ends so that I can go, just go and not have them hanging over my head... an oil change, a haircut, a candy order that I needed to fill.  Get them done and then go... go somewhere, anywhere but here.  It'll hurt him, the man, but thinking of that stopping me adds to the resentment.  Do I always have to do what is best for everyone else, but me?   When do I take care of me?  What do I do for myself that gives me joy or happiness?  The answer to that is that I occasionally get a new tattoo.  That brings me joy, happiness and it's all for me.  Other than that, my existence seems to be to fulfill other people's needs.  And that leads to more resentment.

So I dreamed of getting away, running away.  Not forever, but long enough to clear my head and decide what I really want and where I want to be.  Enough time to stop feeling so much resentment towards so many.

The man... always trying not to harm him, not hurt or upset him.  So much like my mother in that regard it pisses me off.  Repeating history all the while telling her to stop doing that but not listening to my own words.  Existing to make his dinner because I feel like I have no other purpose.

My mother... whenever I make plans, plans of any kind whether they be to go away for a weekend or spend a day to myself either job hunting, writing, reading or just taking care of me, she needs something and I go.   And I resent it.  I resent that there are so many things she can't seem to do for herself.  I resent that I am the only one she can call who will always go and help.  I resent that I have little to no help when it comes to her or my father.

My father... probably the neediest of a all.  He is not well and continues to go downhill.  He refuses to do anything for himself.  Just flat out refuses.  He no longer wants to walk (he has a prosthetic leg and can walk with the aid of a walker) so insists on using the wheelchair.  But he also refuses to push himself once he's in it.  He wants whoever is there to push him while he sits back and does nothing.  This week he was admitted to the hospital, again, for congestive heart failure.  This has been going on since before Thanksgiving, but he never would say what was bothering him.  He had a stomach ache, that's all he would say.  He'd been to the doctor a few times, and that was all he would tell them too so they prescribe antacids and things like that.  No one caught that he had a ton of water sitting in his lungs for months.   Yesterday the doctor took a needle and drained his lung of a liter and a half of liquid.  And today they sent him home.  He's not well.  He's unable to walk and he seems kind of spacey.  Maybe he's had another stroke, I don't know.  But my 4 ft 11 mother cannot take care of a 6 ft 2 father who cannot walk or do anything for himself anymore.

My siblings... I can hear in my siblings voices that I should go there and stay with them to help out, even though they don't come out and say it.  Because if they do, they will be on the business end of a big fat "fuck you, you do it!"  One lives in FL, one lives in AL and one lives here.  I resent that two moved a way and the third is planning his move with his family within two years, which will leave me here holding the bag completely with our parents.  Not that I get much help from him now, but I get some and some is better than none.

I resent that everyone can live their lives but me.  I resent myself for feeling this way.  I resent myself for seemingly doing the right things for everyone but myself.  I resent myself for feeling selfish because of these feelings.   I resent myself for letting my life take a back seat to everyone and watching life pass me by.  I resent that there is no end in sight to any of this.

This. Is. Crazy.

Dear Lalia 12 years ago,

I know you just left a job you loved, and not by choice but by circumstance of the branch being closed down.  It is what it is.  But girl, you have mad skills!  You are in demand so don't take too much time off.  Get back on that horse and find the next job of your dreams.

Love, you

Dear Me,

But, but, but....  You know as well as I do that I probably never would have left my job voluntarily.  So now that it's been taken from me, it's my chance to do something completely different, completely out of the box.  I love to cook, what if I try starting my own catering business.  I can work out of my house and it'll be great!  That's what I'm going to do.

Thanks, love you.... Lalia

It was great.  For a short time.  Until the economy took a nosedive.  Until I realized I couldn't cater jobs by myself.  Until I didn't have enough room in my house to store large trays of food or to cook large trays of food.  Until it wasn't great anymore.  So where does that leave me?   It's 12 years later and the economy is still in the shitter.  Money is tight and I need to work.  So I decide to go back to what I know, office work.  Well that's what I thought I'd be doing anyway.  There are jobs to be had, but the pay scale is so awful it's hard to wrap my hairdo around what is going on.

I had a job interview this week.  It sounded really good, interesting, different and even fun.  And the best part, they use Mac computers.  I'm a Mac girl through and through.  I love all things Apple.  I cried when Steve Jobs died.  I want to change my name to iLalia.  And Mac jobs are few and far between.  They pretty much don't exist unless you are in some kind of graphic design field.  This job is not exactly graphic design but along those lines.  It was pretty exciting to be called for an interview on this one.  So I went and all was well.  The job was nothing like anything I had done before but they seemed interested in me.  They seemed thrilled with all my Mac experience.   So I am liking how this is going.  Until they told me the salary.  $10 and hour.  Seriously.  $20K a year.  Do you know anyone who could live on that?  Me either.

OK yes, I've been out of work for a long time and I realize I have to start over.  But that is less than I was making 12 years ago.  Cost of living has changed.  Gas prices have changed.  Everything has changed.  I never thought I'd be making less than I was making back then.  Maybe the same, but most likely I expected a bit more because of cost of living changes.  So not the case.  

So what does one do, other than brood and cry and lament the fact that by trying to establish my own business I have in essence ruined my life.  Maybe that's not true, but it feels true.  There are so many things I want to do.  So many things out of my reach because I cannot find a job that will pay me enough to make those changes happen.  Do I change course and try a whole different line of work again?  Go with what you know seems logical.  But how can you go with what you know when everyone is struggling so much that companies can't pay better salaries?

When I'm in an interview and am asked the question, "What are you looking for?" My standard answer, with pauses at the appropriate times so it looks like I'm just making this up on the fly (ha!), is "Well... I'd like to be in a place where I like the people I'm working with.   Where I don't dread going everyday and where I'm doing work I can be proud of."  In both interviews I've had, I've used this line (it actually was on the fly in the first interview and went over so well I decided to use it again in the next one).  Both interviewers loved it, so feel free to use it if you find yourself in a similar position and are asked that question.  The thing is, it's not bullshit.   I do want to be around people I like, doing work I can be proud of, in a place I won't dread going to.  I'm 46 years old, on a fast track to 47.  I don't want to be one of those people on Facebook who posts some whiney ass graphic every Monday morning that declares how much Monday's suck.  I just want to be able to make ends meet.  It's not really a lot to ask.  But at the moment it feels completely unattainable.

PS... sorry all my posts are so angsty lately.

Scary Exciting

I'm standing on the edge of some very big decisions.  Huge, life changing decisions.  Decisions that I have spent years thinking about.  Decisions that will change everything as I know it.  Every. Single. Thing.  It's terrifying and exciting. 

I've been complacent.  Content to live a non life.  A life of sameness.  Where nothing new ever happens.  Where no trips are taken.  Where going out has become a thing of the past.  Where I feel like I'm drowning.  Where I feel more like 76 than 46.  And the breaking point has built and built over the years. 

I've heard myself say this and when I hear myself say it, I think it sounds so fucking stupid, but it's so very true.  I ran a very popular website and message board for 13 years.  It took a lot of time.  More time than I ever really knew until I let it go in January.  Once that part of my life was closed, the amount of time I had was unreal.  And the amount of time I had to think about how I wanted different things really started to weigh on me.  And weigh on me.  And weigh on me.  More and more my thoughts turned to things I want to do, to accomplish, to change.

I've said before that it's been pointed out to me that perhaps I am having a midlife crisis.  And I've said before that I don't think that is what is happening.  And I don't.  I think I have just finally woken up.  I have finally seen that a life of nothingness is not fulfilling. The decisions that I'm making are painful and difficult.  I don't know what's going to happen.  I don't know if once the decisions are made if I will be happier.  That's the thing about really big important decisions... you have no way of knowing if they are the right ones until you actually make them and then either way you have to live with them.  So yeah, pretty scary.

So what do you do?  Do you risk everything for a chance at something better (and also risk something far worse?) or do you continue on the path of safety?  Safety sucks.  Safety is boring.  I think I'm really done with safety.  I want more... so much more.

And that brings up another question... am I being selfish?  Maybe, probably.  But so fucking what.  For so long I have lived my life for everyone else.  Everyone but me.  And I finally realize there is something wrong with that picture.  I'm 46 years old and I'm not getting any younger.  It's time to live for Lalia.

And So It Begins...

This Friday I have my first job interview in over 10 years.  Quite honestly, I cannot even believe it's happening.  I haven't been looking all that long, I haven't applied to too many places and I've had a very defeatist attitude about it.  My reality is that I have not worked outside my home for 11 years.  I do not have a very professional look.  My skills are rusty.  This doesn't exactly sound like the makings of a good job candidate IMO.  My friends kept telling me to be confident.  That any company would be lucky to have me.  That my life experience over the past 11 years is invaluable.  I kind of thought they were blowing smoke up my ass!  But maybe it worked.  I started to see things a little differently.

And then a miracle happens.  After only about 3 or 4 weeks of looking, company saw my resume online and actually wants to meet with me.  It's an interesting business and it's in my ideal location.  I have an interview on Friday.  I'm absolutely terrified!

I haven't been in an office setting for so long and when I was it was so laid back.  In fact, it was just me and one other person and most of the time she traveled so I was alone.  I loved it.  Quite frankly if that office hadn't been closed down I might even still be there.  Eh, maybe not.  I think I would have had to eventually branch out and discover myself.   But that's besides the point.  I'm talking about the here and the now.  And the now is, that I have a job interview.  On Friday.  And I have 3 days left to prepare myself.  I need clothes to hide visible tattoo's.  I need to familiarize myself with the company.  I need to find a portfolio in my room of crap and make a few copies of my resume to have on hand.  I need to calm the fuck down and take everyone's advice and just go in and be myself.

It's my first interview and I don't expect it to equate to actually getting a job.  I suppose stranger things have happened, but it seems unlikely.  I guess that's probably the wrong attitude to have as well so I will have to adjust that mindset by Friday too.

I've discovered so many things I want in life over the past year... well discovered is probably the wrong word, it's more like realized or even let myself finally think about those things, and the first step in getting what I want is getting a job.  Once I have it, then plans can be made and things can start happening.  It's an exciting time, a scary time, and OMG a seriously amazing time in my life right now.  The biggest thing that I have realized through all this self discovery is, it's not too late!

Times Are A-Changin

Is it a midlife crisis when you reach a certain age and discover you want something completely different out of life than what you already have?  I guess some people would call it that but I don't think it is.  I think it's self discovery.  Over the past year and a half to five years, so much about my life has changed and it continues to change.  It's scary and exciting all at the same time.

Things started to move in a different direction when my dad got sick.  I dedicated a year of my life to his care.  Maybe that doesn't seem like a lot, maybe it does.  To me it does.  Because I continue to be the go to gal for my parents.  They have come to depend on me a bit more than I care to admit.  And I struggle with it.  I struggle with my own feelings of wishing they were more independent.  They can be, they chose not to be.  And I try so hard to force the issue.  But you cannot teach old dogs new tricks.  They are dependent.  And it will only get worse.  To some degree I allow it I suppose, because they will not do things for themselves.  They just refuse.  So my feelings are, on the one hand, resentful.  Resentful that I don't have the help with them I need or the the time to pursue my own dreams because they take up a lot of my time.  On the other hand, I am thankful that I am able to do things for them that they need.  I hear myself thinking, "when they are gone you'll be so happy you were able to be there for them."  That's true, I will be.  But at what cost to my own personal well being?

Through these years since dad's illness, I felt in the back of my mind that life was passing me by.  That I had nothing for myself.  That I needed something for me.  I had my websites, and they kept me busy.  And then, all that changed.  It was time to move on from the main website, the one I have had since 1998.  And on January 20, I did.  And when I actually did it, I felt a weight lift from somewhere deep inside.  Don't get me wrong, the site was very good to me.  I met some wonderful people and had some once in a lifetime experiences.  But it weighed me down.  It blinded me to how empty I was feeling.  It masked how I was feeling inside.  And now that it's gone, I feel ready to pursue new challenges.  I want to do more, see more, experience more.  In my own mind it seems so strange.  How could ending a website bring all these feelings out of me, especially since it was something I loved?  I don't claim to understand it.  I know that since ending it I have wanted so much more from my own life that I didn't know I wanted before.

Changes are coming.  I'm actively pursuing work.  I love my little business but it's not enough for me anymore.  The work is sporadic and not fulfilling.  On the one hand change is terrifying.  Who would hire me after being out of the work force for over 10 years?  I don't want to change who I am, I want to change what I'm doing.  Is my purple hair going to be a problem?  Probably, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.  And what if I fail?  What if things don't turn out how I think they will.  But the thing is, I can what if myself to death.  There will always be a scary "what if" lurking somewhere.  I have a pretty amazing support system and I'm really excited about the future.  There is something to be said about breaking out of your comfort zone.

Life is Too Short

Regular readers to this blog know that I recently lost a very good friend to cancer.  Yesterday I was handed another reminder of just how short life is.  It was my niece's first communion party.  My brother had told me about a year ago that his good friend JA has cancer, pancreatic cancer no less.  Devastating news.  JA is literally the only friend of my brothers that I ever liked. Ever.

Bro is 8 years older than me, and so we never really hung out in the same crowd.  He didn't approve of things I did and in general he always acted more like a father than a brother.  But JA is cool.  He's a super nice guy and he always had my back where bro was concerned.  I remember when I was just out of high school and between jobs.  Bro got into a pretty serious accident.  He was working landscaping at the time and was on a tractor when his shoelace got caught on the gas peddle.  He couldn't get it out and was thrown from the tractor with his foot still attached to the gas peddle.   The tractor dragged him for a bit, tearing his shirt off and then most of the skin off his back.  It was horrible!  His back was completely raw.  He came back home to stay with us while he was recuperating.  My mom was too nervous to do the things that needed to be done for him, like change his dressing several times a day and clean his wounds, so I did it.  I took care of him for several weeks while he recovered.  I didn't do much of anything else.  And then JA came over to see him. JA took me into the kitchen and said, "go... go out.  Do something else, I'll stay with him."  A much needed break that he knew I needed, and I went.  And I never forgot it. A bond was formed that day.  From then on he was my friend too.  JA is someone I love.

When he got married it was like he was my kindred spirit.  Married on Halloween, he and his wife had a costume wedding and he was Frankenstein and she was Bride of Frankenstein.  I think those who know me know how I feel about that!   It was awesome!

In the best of times, or the worst of times, JA was always there.  When my brothers friends were calling me a freak and asking bro why I looked the way I looked, JA had my back again.  He stood up for me with the closed minded.

And now, on the occasion of my niece's first communion party, bro told me JA would be there.  My niece is his goddaughter after all.  But he wanted me to know that JA looks drastically different.  Both bro and sis in law let me know that he is almost unrecognizable. And I thank them both for preparing me.  Because I don't think I would have been prepared for what I saw when JA came in.  He had aged a lot and was so painfully thin it's hard to even imagine, let alone see him.  It has been less than a year since I last saw him and it seems like way longer.  He was still the same JA as always though, even given this dreaded illness that he is trying to fight.  I tried hard not to talk about that, when you're going through it, do you really want to keep telling people about your treatments and things?  I imagine not, so I didn't bring it up and we just talked about general stuff.  He stayed a little while, ate well and soon had to leave.  In all likelihood that was the last time I will ever see him.

When the party was over, I thanked my sister in law and bro for letting me know what to expect ahead of time, and still, I wasn't prepared.  Sis in law said that he told someone at the party that he doesn't have much time left.  And that is when I broke down.   Much like J, JA is exhibiting a strength and dignity that I am simply in awe of.  I didn't want to lose J, and I don't want to lose JA.  I know I have zero control over that, but it sucks.  I hate it.  I don't want to lose people I love.  Who does really huh?

Life is too fucking short.  The more things like this happen, the more I tend to reexamine my life and want to make some changes to it.  Being content with sameness is unacceptable anymore.  I'm 46 years old.  I'm not getting any younger.  If something happens to me, like with J or JA, will I have a full life to look back on?  I don't know.  I know there is something missing.  I know there are so many things I want to do.  I know that I am going to go after what I want.  I just wish it didn't take such devastating losses to wake one up to these truths.

Life Gets in the Way

It's hard to believe that it's been a month since I last wrote.  I've missed it.  I've missed my PBAU peeps.  At times I'm at a loss as to what to write about.... whether it be too much to say or not enough.  Today I'm compelled to tell you about the movies I've seen, the books I have read and in general what I've been up to.  First up is the movie Cabin in the Woods.  I don't go to movies often, for no reason really.  I love going to the movies.  I love the whole experience of it.  Chock up the lack of going to them to one of the many things the man isn't into doing.  Suddenly in a span of 3 days, I saw two movies.  Cabin in the Woods is the latest bit of crazy from Joss Whedon.  Ahhh Joss, how I love you.  This is the man responsible for the TV shows Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel.  And if you're a fan of those shows, you will see some blasts from those pasts.... Amy Acker (Fred from Angel) and Tom Lenk (Andrew from Buffy).  On a whole I give this movie a thumbs up.  It's truly fucked up in the best possible way.

It put me back in touch with my love of horror movies.  It was creepy and weird, bloody but not in a slasher flick kind of way.  It rocked.

Two days later I went to see Hunger Games.  Now, I would probably never go see this movie, nor would I probably watch it when it comes to cable.  I didn't read the books and after reading the Twilight series, I vowed never to read another young adult series ever again.  Seriously, you give Twilight to a vampire lover such as myself and you get vampires with no fangs who sparkle in the sun?  Ugh.  But more on that later.  My Goddaughter asked me to take her to see Hunger Games so alas, what is one to do?  Of course I had to take her.  I was worried though, that I might embarrass her.  Why?  Well she is 12 years old.  Do you remember being 12?  I do.  Everything and everybody is embarrassing.  And when you are suddenly in public with your purple haired Godmother, well, that could be embarrassing to someone who is not used to being around you all that much.  But she was fine, and the funny thing?  Just about everyone in the movie has an interesting colored hair!  So instead of weird looks or the stinkeye that I normally get, I got knowing looks because people just assumed I was a Hunger Games groupie! Interestingly, I actually liked the movie!  It had a level of violence to it that I didn't expect.  Which, to me, is a bonus.  And a blue haired Stanley Tucci was in it, big bonus!  I loves me some Stanley Tucci.

So those were my two forays into a movie theatre this past month.  I also caught three movies on cable this month.... Horrible Bosses, Bridesmaids and Fight Club.  The first two were really freakin funny and I highly recommend them both.   The third came highly recommended to me from a friend who was somewhat appalled that I had never seen it.  Why did I never see it before!?  It was intense and interesting and surprising and wow, just wow.  Thanks for the recommendation T!

And then we have books... I read the 10th book in the Black Daggar Brotherhood series by JR Ward called Lover Reborn.  These are probably my favorite of the vampire erotica genre that I've read.  The vamps are hot, sexy, love to fuck, fight and bite.  They are rich and devoted and did I mention they love to fuck?  They aren't pansy vampires who only kill animals.  They are flawed and scarred and did I mention they love to fuck?  I think I might have.  Admittedly the series is not as good as it used to be, but alas, I am addicted to those brothers.

I also read... *hanging my head in shame* 50 Shades of Grey.  Have you read it?  Have you heard of it?   Well let me enlighten you if you haven't.  The book started out as Twilight fan fiction and somehow, someway it was picked up and the woman who wrote it got a three book, book deal out of it!  It was out of morbid curiosity that I decided reading a version of Twilight where Edward has balls and Bella gets her ass fucked was necessary. 50 Shades changes the names, the locations, adds in BDSM, and takes out the supernatural element.  But if you read Twilight, you will see all the similarities between the two.  So much so that I cannot believe that the woman who wrote it, EL James, actually got a book deal.  It's a complete rip off!

So books, movies and what else have I been doing for the last month or so?  I competed with a friend in Cleveland's Finest Hors D'Oeuvre contest.  It was an absolute blast!!!  We didn't win, but seriously had a good time.  I've also been cleaning a lot of crap out of my life, meaning cleaning house and purging things I just don't need.  I've started selling on Ebay again, and whatever I don't think I can sell goes to Goodwill.  I got a new computer (yah!!!   Oh my darling Gracious Plenty - the name of my new IMac - I love you so!  I'm still trying to get used to the Magic Mouse though, that scrolling thing is tricky) and in general I have been looking after me.  I don't do that very often.  It's kind of weird, but feels good too.

Laying Low

I've been quiet lately.   Very quiet, which is kind of strange for me really.  I'm sure many have noticed.  I'd notice if I wasn't me.  It's not conscious or purposeful, it just is.  Maybe my mind is so overloaded with things right now that I don't know what to say so instead say nothing?  That could be. 

So much in my life has changed over the past 4 or 5 years and things keep on changing.  Some things are coming full circle, others are growing and evolving, and still others are coming to an end.  It's kind of scary and exciting all rolled into one.  There are days when I am so happy and so excited about what lies ahead that I can't even contain myself.  I burst with joy.  Then there are days when I feel sad about what I'm leaving behind.  Some of my decisions might be wrong, not what someone else would do, or end up being a disappointment to family or friends.  But the thing is, I'm 46 years old and I cannot live my life based on how others will react to what I am doing.  It's not who I am.  I can't live my life for someone else.  I can only live for me.  If that sounds selfish, so be it, but that isn't the intent.  The intent is to make myself happy.  If I can't do that, who will?  No one. 

So often I've felt judged by people, judged on how I write, judged on how I look, judged on a decision I make.  Judged by people I know, love or don't know at all.  And I don't like that feeling.  No one does.  It makes you second guess yourself and if I've learned nothing else in my 4+ decades on this earth, it's to trust my own instincts. 

I've joked to many that I think I'm going through a midlife crisis, but I don't really think that at all.  It's funny to say it, but no.  I don't believe that's it.  I think that so much has happened that I have woken up to the fact that I don't have all the time in the world anymore.  That differences that never used to matter, now seem to.  That even though I never ever imagined I'd be here, that it feels so good and natural and maybe even how it should be.  That the things I want, they matter and no one but me can make them happen.  It might be a bumpy ride, but anything worthwhile is going to be. 

Hot

I had an interesting conversation with a good friend last night. Conversation may be overstating it really, it was just a few texts. But the gist of it was that confidence and attitude can be just as hot, if not more so, than actual physical attributes. I absolutely agree with that. I have been attracted to someone for many reasons but not only because they are physically beautiful to my eye.

I can admit that I have wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out until I was perfect physically.  But who defines perfect?  Maybe I am perfect, for me.  Well, I'm sure I'm not, but I'll be working on that in the new year.  Which is not the point.  The point is, most of the time I feel ok about how I look.  But I feel awesome about the person I am.  I've written before that it has taken me a long time to become the person I want to be.  I think that's probably true for everyone.  Whether you grow up in an alcoholic household like I did, and see how you don't want to end up.  Or you have people around you who show you how you do want to end up.  But you get to chose.  You can decide your life sucks, you've been handed a raw deal and you could live out your days a bitter asshole who thinks the world owes you a favor.  Or you can turn it around, make your life better, stand on your own and just fucking do it.  I prefer the just fucking do it way. 

My business is not as successful as I wish it were, but I'm doing my own thing and I love that.  It's fun and stressful and at the end of a hard day, I feel damn good that I did something I'm proud of. And I put my own stamp on it.

If you want to know the truth I think I'm a pretty cool chick.  I have amazing friends, strange things regularly happen to me, I surround myself with great music every day,  and no one rocks the purple hair and G cup better than I do dammit!  Love yourself and people around you will love you too  :)

Take Your Misery Somewhere Else

I've known and still know people who seem to live in misery.  Everything is horrible.  They constantly bitch. Nothing good ever happens.  There are no laughs.  It's just a long life of nothing but drudgery.  Why live that way?  Granted I have my moments, but in general I have a lot of joy.

Take my in laws for example, mother in law and sister in law.  Two peas in a pod they are.  They live in misery, and by that I mean that they truly seem to hate their lives, everyone around them, and everything they do.  Mother in law is the worst.  She is never happy.  She constantly, and I do mean constantly, bitches at father in law.  If he said the sky was blue, she would argue with him that it's green just to argue.  Does that sound like I'm exaggerating the issue?  Because I'm not.  She hates him.  And her misery at never having left, never having changed her life, never doing a damn thing about it, filters over onto everyone.  She is mean and hateful, as I've written about here.  And the funny thing is, I always noticed it.  I've known this family since 1987 and I noticed it immediately, but no one else did.  Or they were immune to it.  When I asked the man what was up with his parents way back in those early days, he didn't know what I was talking about.  It never dawned on him that it was a little odd that his parents had separate bedrooms.   Now I know people have separate bedrooms for a variety of reasons, not the least of which are snoring problems, but this was not for any other reason than their relationship was over.  And it's been over.  And yet they stay together I guess because neither knows what else to do.  It's sad.  An existence that is merely that, an existence.  No laughs, no love, no sex, no conversations that aren't arguments.  Who would want to live like that?

Which brings me to sister in law.  She who had a front row seat to this behavior and has adopted it for herself. She barks at her husband every chance she gets, which is whenever they speak.  Very often I've wondered why things like that aren't kept private.  I mean if you want to bitch out your husband, does it have to be at a family function?  Can we not have our 5 fucking 30 cake in peace without all this drama because he doesn't hold the fucking fork the way you do?

Like I said, I've had my moments.  But I could write a blog like the one previous to this one, which was introspective, kind of sad and depressing, and then the minute I hit post something could happen that will make me laugh, a real laugh.  Not a polite one.  It could be something someone says, something I read, or most likely something stupid that I do myself.  And most of that sour mood will vanish.  It won't make the issue go away, but it will lift the mood.  And then I'm back.  I'm back to being the same 45 year old purple haired, tattooed horn dog who can't seem to get enough sex, enough laughs, enough music, enough love, and enough of life to suit me.  I don't ever want to be one of these miserable people.  I want to experience everything.  I want to cook the greatest meal.   I want to fuck my brains out.  I want to see the best live music.  I want to have a lifetime of joy and laughter.  And no one will stop me from having it.

I Cry

I cry when I'm sad
I cry when I'm happy
I cry when I miss you
I cry when I fail
I cry when I succeed
I cry when I feel lost
I cry when I feel loved
I cry when I feel rejected
I cry when I'm broke
I cry when I'm lucky
I cry when I mourn
I cry when I'm joyous
I cry when I don't know what to do
I cry when I don't know who to turn to
I cry when I'm lonely
I cry when I'm overwhelmed
I cry when I'm tired
I cry when life is good
I cry more when life is bad
I cry a fucking lot.