Despicable Me

I am legitimately shocked and awed by how fucking awful this feels. I am living alone. I am alone and eating ramen. Depressed as hell. Be careful what you fucking wish for. It’s only Tuesday. I have only been alone since Sunday morning. Regardless, I have cried every day, starting that morning around 6:20am. I’m finally mourning. Doubly mourning. I know I have to go through this to get to the other side. Like the chicken I’ve been feeling like at work lately. The one without a head. There is so much I want to say. So much I feel I have to hide. I’m tired of hiding.  

Small details: I had planned on going to the gym after work. Instead, I made a conscious decision to allow myself to fall deeper into this sadness. I made a conscious decision to buy a bottle of Irish whiskey (it makes me feel connected to so many things). I made a conscious decision to not make real food. I say I don’t care but it’s because I do care so much that everything weighs on me so heavily. So heavily that bottle follows bottle in a futile effort to stop the pain and disappointment that I feel. Being aware of what I’m doing makes it that much more painful.

So many things are going through my head right now. Thoughts and feelings. Especially “STOP!” But not a positive stop. It’s “stop writing, stop thinking, go to the couch and turn on the tv, forget all this.” But that doesn’t stop it, only delays.

“I don’t know” and “I’m so sorry.” The two most common refrains I hear come out of my mouth or that run through my head. I wish I could say “Yes,” and “I love you” and “Help me.” “Please.” And that I could accept help. And love. It’s enough to make me turn to Jesus, I swear.

I wish I could be less stubborn. Open and gracious and forgiving instead of glancing sideways at everyone and everything offered. Yet still being taken advantage of. That I could work with instead of against. You and me.

There are so many truths about me that I find disturbing. Truths that I have trouble voicing. Truths that make me despicable. Using and abusing. I realized not long after I moved out that I am not necessarily a “good” person. I do what I need to do to survive. Yet people still call me a saint. People still want to help me. People think I am good. It’s not goodness, it’s self-preservation and idiocy. Being who I need to be to get by. Denying myself, hiding myself. Fronting.

That’s all bullshit, that last paragraph. I victimize myself and blame others for making me unhappy. Because I am unhappy and I’m too chicken-shit to do anything about it.

You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.

I don’t deserve all the chances people give me. Yet I do. Because I care so much. Because I’ve been hurt so much. By other people who were hurt before me. And it goes on and on. The legacy of hurt. 

Fuck. How did I end up here?

Fear. Fear that I’ve lost another friend. Because of my fear. Because of second-guesses and outside pressure. (Incompatibility and desperation? Insecurity?)

Why can’t I just sit with myself? Why am I so afraid of myself? Because I know how despicable I am? God, that’s depressing. Because I know how much I hurt. I know how much pain is inside of me. And how much rage and anger. And that does scare me. It makes me of absolutely no use to anyone.

So here I am. Finally alone. And scared to death of what I’ll discover. Yet I know I am searching for something in others that I can only find in myself and I’m no good to anyone until I find it.



But do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage,
Tame the ghosts in my head,
That run wild and wish me dead.
Should you shake my ash to the wind
Lord, forget all of my sins
Or let me die where I lie
Neath the curse of my lover's eyes.

And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow
Take my hand, help me on my way.
And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow
Take my hand, I'll be on my way.

Interpretation, or, Go Fuck Yourself

I had one of those dreams last night.

I often have dreams where I am trapped, unable to find my way out of a building or location and that's what was going on last night. All the windows were old and either wouldn't open or were too small but most importantly all of them were just too high to jump from. I was in Cecil County and Chris was with me and one other person who wasn't really identifiable. We all climbed this hill and got inside the building but for some reason it was just me who ended up being what I can only describe as an indentured servant to the people living there, this woman and her elderly mother. What I was doing isn't important. It involved making sure tour groups got up and down the hill safely, there was a railroad trestle and water... Anyway, I ended up alone and I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to be doing this job, but I couldn't escape. Inside the building where these two women lived it was like an episode of Hoarders but every once in a while I'd get a glimpse of this pristine bedroom and bathroom which were somehow off limits to me and I knew I'd get in trouble if I were caught in there. Eventually I escaped, but I don't remember how, and I found Chris and the mystery person again.

But here's the fucked up part: This all happened in one day. And the next day I went back to do it all over again.

Witness my insanity.

How fast can you run?

Shit is just fucked. Nothing has... I feel like I have no control over anything. I moved out because I needed space, because I wanted to be alone... But nothing has worked out like I'd hoped or planned. And I am so angry I can't stand it and I don't see a way out. And it's my own fucking fault. For being such an idiot, for believing in someone, for trusting someone. When I should have known. I should have known. I wasn't and am not in the right space for this to be happening. I feel used and taken advantage of. And so, so angry. I just want what I wanted: To be alone. To work through things. To have my own space. To fucking watch tv as loud as I want. Alone. 

"I'm your secretary"

I said, "I'm still outta here, fb, but I just HAVE to get out one more rant about PITT: Srsly, Pitt, I've applied for at least 25 jobs with you over 3 years, had about 6 or 7 interviews, devotedly temp for you and you STILL insist on REJECTING me at every turn!!! WTF!!! WHAT DOES IT TAKE??? I think I'm gonna go open a vein on the steps over at Craig."

And that was how I ended my facebook dependence.

My Pitt dependence, on the other hand, continues. I received another rejection letter yesterday.

Based on the reactions to the above confession (25 applications, no acceptance), it seems that it's beyond time for me to move on.

When I share it and say it out loud, it becomes quite obvious that I'm being used.

And looking back, there's been a lot of insincerity. A lot of "we'd like to keep you, but..." Somehow I'm just not one of them so they give me their sad, puppy dog pouts and then stab me in the back.

But what the fuck do you move on to in PGH? I don't know computers, medicine, or bridge repair. Maybe CMU?

Oh, and I need to take my masters degree OFF my resume, it's holding me back. And add my work philosophy: "Point me toward the internet and leave me alone. I'll see you in 8 hours."

Taken from Fuck This Depression Blog

I want to share all these amazing things this girl has on her blog because they're also about me and maybe you.

Homesickness is just a state of mind for me. I'm always missing someone or someplace or something, I'm always trying to get back to some imaginary somewhere. My life has been one long longing.   -Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel

                                

"What's wrong with Pittsburgh?" AKA "I'm so sorry if I'm alienating some of you"

The ongoing saga of Gray v. Pittsburgh. 

Q. You know what is the best part of Pittsburgh? A. Neither does anyone else. 

People in Pittsburgh are very sensitive about their city being criticized.  So whenever I get the opportunity I like to criticize Pittsburgh.  I had no idea that if I Googled "I hate Pittsburgh" that I'd find so many like-minded people.  While a lot of the sites I found were sport-related, I also found a handsome number of non-sport related sites.  And before anyone asks the dumb-ass "Then why don't you leave?" question, please be aware that I am working on it and it's easier said than done (see below).  If you want to start a fund to help me move I'll appreciate it.  Treat me like Rush Limbaugh.  I'll actually go.       

This 38 page thread titled "Pittsburgh REALLY SUCKS" has had me laughing out loud at work for two days though most of it's written by fucking CRAZY people.  Believe it or not, I am working on the "If you can't say something nice" rule, so I'll mainly provide some highlights of what others have said about Pittsburgh:

"They are intolerant of others, impatient, know-it-all jerks."

"Pittsburghers are oddly arrogant and downright unfriendly. Anyone not from here is an outsider, and is treated like one. Ignorance is prevalent, and unfortunately even accepted. Pittsburgh is honestly the most racist, intolerable city I have ever even visited, and it's not hard to find a native who's had a few too many I.C. Lights to call you a name and pick a fight with you over nothing. Ask half of them if they have ever left (even on vacation) and many will say no, because they claim no need to.  It is really strange.  Many here have no desire but to live their entire lives here and never see nor care about anything else in the world.  Downright depressing and pathetic."

"I have never hated living somewhere so much in my life (and yes I've lived in several cities)
Everything about this place blows, the weather, the traffic, the parking (or lack there of), people are rude and obnoxious, worst drivers on earth, these weirdass roads make no sense with their 5-way intersections and random ass exits/entrances.
I can't find a job worth CRAP, and am sick of even trying to find one now.
I can't wait to get the heck out of here and am going to be miserable until I do. What a mistake coming here."

"Pittsburgh feels like a large trailer park where everyone is forced to wear yellow and black. It is easily the most irritating place that I have ever lived. "

And sadly, my biggest fear addressed: "Cut your losses and run from this place now! Western Pennsylvania is a vacuum. Most people who want to leave cannot, because their financial situation is perpetually bad. They can never get ahead, but they keep saying 'as soon as I get ahead, I'll get the hell out of here.' It never happens for them though, and they are stuck here forever.
GET OUT NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN!"

And why do they still allow people to smoke inside at way more places than are necessary?  And why are there no street signs at intersections?  Why are there so many roads that suddenly don't have sidewalks?  What the fuck is wrong with the public transportation in this town?  Why don't you just have everyone pay when they get on like civilized cities do?  And what's with all these damn bugs?  Why does Rick Sebak's voice make me want to throw things at the TV?   

Recently I thought I had reached the acceptance stage in my grieving for someplace other than Pittsburgh.  Hopefully everyone reading this is educated enough to be familiar with the Kubler-Ross stages of grief, if not wiki that.  Unfortunately my acceptance was short-lived when Pitt fucked with me yet again and told me no, you are nothing but a temp and that's what you will always be to us.  This has sent me crashing back into stage 2: ANGER.  And here I sit.  Temping in anger.

I think my household as a whole has reached its threshold with how much Pittsburgh we can take so we are looking into other options.  While I would like to go "home" for a while, somewhere in the MD/DE/PA tri-state area, we are also considering New Orleans.  If you have suggestions on places to live in other states I'm open to hearing about them.  At least one of us has to have a full-time job and we like to pay no more than 20-25% of our income in rent but don't want to live with other people to make that happen... Crazy, I know.            

"Back to the Front"

Did all y'all know that there's a connection between "Tim & Eric" and "Ink & Dagger?"  Every time I think about that it makes me uncomfortable. Just sayin'.  Wiki that.

I am desperate. Yes. Again.

Desperate for real karaoke, like it used to be. Up north.
Desperate for the beach, like it used to be. Down tha shore at Ocean City, NJ.
Desperate for a vacation. (Maine or New Orleans?)
Desperate for a friendship. (Left blank.)
Desperate to get the hell out of here. (Pittsburgh.)
(Like I would go back to work at Episcopal desperate.)
(Like drop everything desperate.)
(Like pack up the cats desperate.)
Why didn't my brother get to keep the house desperate.
When are we gonna eat crabs with Allen's parents desperate.

Yet not desperate enough to move to Little Cambodia.  Sorry fellas.  I'd rather live on Battlestar Galactica and be Starbuck cos she was tough and drunk. 

I think I miss myspace.

So today Theresa says to me: "I can't believe someone hasn't snatched you up already."
"Me neither," I replied.  "I don't know what's wrong with me."
That stumped her.
No shit.
It's like I'm some kind of timebomb.

And then Brandi was mocking faculty: "I'm so smart I don't know how to tie my shoe laces!  I've got so much going on up here I can't even fill out this form correctly..." 
Yeah, I know.  That's what happens to me.  So I'm a PhD at an AA level with a master's degree.  Shameful.

"You're good at everything," Allen says to me on Sunday.
As if that made anything easier.  It doesn't.  Good at everything but drawn to nothing.

Speaking of: I may be about to embarque on a NURSING DEGREE out of boredom and a desperate need to leave Pissburgh.  But is it something I'm interested in?  I can't say definitively but it's the only way I know to get out of here.  Allen also asked if I would end up being one of those nurses I've complained about, the ones who could give a shit about anything except a paycheck.  I said no, I'd be one of the ones who cared too much and got burnt out that way.

Another degree.  Jennifer Gray, BA, MLIS, BSN, MSN.  It means nothing to me.  It seems to mean something to others.  It's really not hard once you figure out how to play the game.  Collect 'em all.  I suppose I'll eventually work my way up to collecting PhDs, though I refuse to teach.  "Those who can -- do," and all... And I hate children, no matter what their age.  Besides, most things can't be taught.

So I might as well collect the student loan debt.  I don't plan on leaving anyone behind who would have to cover it. 
Epiphany!

I miss playing Runescape.  But I still don't understand the "Dungeoneering" skill.  Lame.

Oh, I almost forgot: "There are a lot of Precious's in this world."  Direct quote from me.  You're welcome.  Runnin' with chicken.