This blog often contains uncomfortable subject matter and occasional sexual content. If you don't want to read about it, empower yourself to close the page. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care. This morning, I was debating whether or not to call in sick because I just didn't feel like going to work. Then I remembered that I had scheduled a weeklong vacation, starting Monday. So I decided to suck it up and go anyway, save my sick time for when I'm really sick. This afternoon, I went to the training room to help out with a class of new hires while the trainer took his lunch break. There were three young women. One was eighteen, and the other two were twenty-two. One of the twenty-two-year-olds had been married since age nineteen, I think because she got pregnant. She was telling us that once she accepted that her husband was not going to help with any of the cooking and cleaning, she was okay with it. She had settled in to her subservient wife role comfortably. It took every ounce of my patience not to explain to her why that was wrong. She wouldn't have listened anyway. I felt very sad for her. Later in the afternoon, I was back at my desk, talking to my coworkers. Still working, mind you. I got an instant message from a manager saying that the guy who runs the place had overheard a lot of chatter, and could we please keep it down because lately we haven't been getting all the work done on Fridays. Allow me to list all of the things wrong with this: So today I left work in an extra good mood with the knowledge that at least I don't have to go back there for over a week! I belted out some Fiona Apple in the car on the way home, and I must say, it was some of the best singing I've done in a while. It's nice to be in a good mood for once. Oh yeah, before I forget. Mandatory car update. I paid off the diagnostic and towing charges so that I can get my car back from the dealership. Now I just need to have it towed home, so it can sit parked in the street for the next week or so until I get paid again. Hopefully, I can get a used motor for a reasonable price, and BK's mechanic friends have already offered to fix it. Things are going to work out okay eventually, I just need to scrounge up some money first. 8:54 p.m. - 2010-12-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Seasonal pessimissm Winter's almost here. All the telltale signs are starting to creep in. My skin is dry and cracking. The air feels different and the wind hurts my face. The trees are looking skeletal and the sky is grayer than usual. It's starting to get dark before I'm even off work. I'm settling into that familiar hopeless feeling that I get this time of year. Oh, and one of my coworkers told me the forecast was calling for fucking snow flurries tonight. There's this song that used to play on my old Yahoo streaming radio station years ago, before they changed the format and I switched to Pandora. The lyric that keeps repeating in my head tonight is, "God, I hate December." 8:14 p.m. - 2010-11-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Weird day Today was a weird day... I woke up this morning after dreaming that I was killing zombies by bashing their heads in with a golf club. I remember thinking in the dream that there seemed to be no end in sight, the zombies kept coming and coming. It's weird, I've had lots of dreams about zombies, but I think this is the first time I've ever actually fought them. In all the previous ones, the entire dream would be spent either hiding indoors and watching through cracks in the boarded up windows in horror, or running away from them. This one was pretty brutal. I could see the skulls collapse in on themselves when I struck the zombies with the golf club, and blood and brains came out. Then BK and I took a shower together, which was nice. Afterward, we had sex. Honestly it could have been better, for some reason I had a hard time getting into it (I think I put too much pressure on myself again) but whatever. It had been a week since the last time we had sex, so I'm happy just to have been able to do it again. The on to the weekly visit to my grandparents' house for lunch, and after that, my mom, sisters, my sister's friend OS, and I all went to this indoor flea market in KCK. I had no idea what to expect, but I was certainly surprised when we arrived. The area outside the building smelled like cat piss. Inside, there were all these little "rooms" created by chain link fences, full of knockoff and/or stolen name-brand merchandise. My sister wanted Ugg boots and they were only forty dollars. My mom asked the woman running that little chain-link "store" if they were knockoffs, and she flat out admitted that they were. She tried to claim that they look the same, they're just much cheaper. They had the official Ugg logo and everything. I told my mom and sisters that the reason they were so much cheaper is because the big-name designers don't usually use child labor, but the knockoffs are almost always made by children. I felt kind of sick to my stomach the whole time we were there. Especially when my mom still wanted to buy the boots, and my sister was still going to let her. Okay, I get that the prices on the designer labels are outrageous. It's stupid to spend that much money on clothes or shoes or purses when you know that the materials cost much less. But really, you're so desperate to show off your fashion sense that you're willing to contribute to the exploitation of children? I guess it's easy for them to overlook this stuff when they don't have to actually see the children. They are probably halfway across the world in factories that my mom will never have to visit, so why should she care about their working conditions or the minuscule pay they're making? Her daughter needs Ugg boots and they are half price!! Who can say no to that?! Also contributing to my discomfort at the Knockoff-Mart, was the fact that in any given part of the building I could hear at least two, usually three and sometimes even four different songs playing at once. Tejano music behind me, rap to the left, and old 90s dance pop to the front... It was pretty disorienting. And the clothes were slutty clubwear, the shoes were stripper heels, and the t-shirts said things like "It's my birthday, bitch!" and "Tell your boyfriend to stop calling me" and one of them said something in regards to the wearer's ass. They even sold something in the lingerie section that I can only describe as a "butt bra". It is a pair of panties... With butt padding. The label on them said they were for sexy, confident women. Yeah, because feeling like you need to enhance your butt with foam padding just screams confidence. Needless to say I did not purchase anything at the flea market and feel trashy just for having set foot in there. After that, we headed home. Since I am poor, I stayed for dinner because hey, free food. Everything was cool until my dad got home and was acting like a crazy old drunk, as usual. We were eating dinner in front of the TV in the living room, like any other distant American family, and my dad chose to eat his in front of the TV in the family room instead. He kept trying to carry on a conversation with the fucking dog. At one point I heard him say (purposely loud enough for us to hear in the next room), "You're starting to piss me off. I came in here because they have the lights on in there even though they know it hurts my eyes, and now you won't leave me alone." Fucking manchild. I said to him, "You're badmouthing us to the dog loud enough for us to hear... Very mature." It was at that point that I decided it was time to leave. God, my family stresses me out so much. It was nice to hang out with BRS and see her friend OS again, and of course I still love my mom, but damn it, I can barely stand to go back home these days. I'm glad BK and I can mostly communicate like adults, instead of making passive aggressive comments like the rest of my family does. 8:40 p.m. - 2010-11-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mope, mope, mope Just a quick update on the car situation... I finally mustered up the will today to call the dealership that I'm supposed to have it towed to for service. When I told them I didn't have a maintenance log, they said it shouldn't be a problem. The towing is covered under warranty so I shouldn't even have to pay for that. So it will be towed on Monday, and the service appointment is scheduled for Wednesday. I suspect that they will find some reason to not cover the maintenance and possibly even the towing. I guess I will deal with that when it comes. For now, I'm just happy to have gotten all the phone calls taken care of for the time being. So on to the regularly scheduled moping. I'm lonely today. I smoked some pretty potent nug last night with BK's friends, and I have that weird pot "hangover" to deal with. I feel dehydrated and my head feels heavy and dense. I feel lethargic and apathetic, and I can't think of anything to do other than cleaning (which come on, we all know is not going to happen) or watching Daria on DVD. Sure, I could draw or try my hand at sewing, but... I don't know, every time I start thinking about trying it, I feel paralyzed. I really want to crochet, but my wrists are out of commission for the next few days. BK has two different music projects to work on tonight after work. I'm guessing that means he won't be home until late, so I get to continue to mope for at least six more hours. Hell, maybe I will clean. Or at least take a walk if it's warm enough. I'd really rather just go back to bed. 2:30 p.m. - 2010-11-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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