"I have a one-step program for dealing with stress. Well, one step and a kick to be exact." -Maxine

It seems as if I'm saying to myself more & more often, "I should have just stayed in bed!"  I have more days when nothing seems to go right; when everything seems to be a struggle.  Today has been no different.

Is it still Festivus? Can I continue to Air my Grievances?

1. The suit-coat I was going to wear today was missing some crystals from its buttons. I had to change my clothes & all my jewelry & pack it away to Goodwill. Why do I even bother waking up?
2. It's still slick out so I had to wear flats to walk to my car, then change into my high-heel-boots, which is a pain in the ass because.....
3. My gloves make everything 100 times more difficult. Like locking my apartment door. First, I had the wrong key. Then I dropped the whole set. Then I had difficulty even locking the damn door. All while sweating my ass off in my winter coat & scarf.  Do I love winter? Not right now.
4. I'm having nightmares every time I sleep. Last night's was about a scary ghoul living in my ceiling. I'm blaming the tree-rats scratching in their nests in my walls/ceiling for this one. Damn squirrels. Where's Grandma's gun?
5. I was going to have a nice, easy day at work today because I wasn't going to give announcements. I hate giving announcements. Ah, but I received an email from someone (sent yesterday) asking me to give a special announcement. Dammit.
6. My arm still hurts like hell, after over a month of daily applications of Ben-Gay and now putting a heating pad on it all day long....Nothing is helping. And everything I do requires the use of it. Call my Gimpy.
7. If I have to fix one more goddamn toilet at the church, I'm going to scream.
8. I forgot my travel coffee mug.
9. I've realized I've become Maxine except I'm not happy about it like she is and I'm not funny. I'm just a bitch.

It's only 9AM.

I've decided I'm going to start what I've seen on Facebook-- I'm going to have a jar, starting January 1, and will write down the good things that happen to me, by me, and for me in 2013 & keep them in the jar. By the end of the year I'll be able read the ONE GOOD THING that happened to me throughout the year and hang onto it for dear life.

Because right now I'm struggling to think of anything good.

"It's Festivus...for the rest of us!" -Frank Costanza, Seinfeld

Well, the only thing that could make this day better is if I trip over my own feet, fall on top of Elvis & crush him, break my nose and still have to go to Christmas Eve services tonight....with two black eyes and a dead cat.

Happy Festivus, everyone!  It's the airing of grievances....and boy, do I have a lot of grievances!

Today started with an earlier-than-wanted wake-up due to pain in my gut. Must have been all the good food I ate yesterday. Since I was up early, I decided to head to the grocery store before it becomes a complete mad-house.

Have I said how much I love winter? I do. I really, really do. I do not, however, love wearing gloves or  bulky winter clothes. I feel like the Michelin man and if I were to fall down, which is likely, I wouldn't be able to get back up.

It's bitter cold outside. Bitter. Cold. So I got all bundled up and fought with getting my damn purse over my damn shoulder which is twice the size it usually is then fought with locking the damn door with the damn key while wearing damn gloves. Grrrr.

I made it out to my car without falling, surprisingly since the sidewalks are still covered in ice and........

The car's panic alarm started going off as soon as I unlocked the door. It wouldn't turn off. After it finally stopped, after two rounds @ 7AM (you're welcome, neighbors), the car wouldn't start.

Isn't anti-theft technology great? Not even the owner can 'steal' the car!

At least I figured out how to get the car started. I had to unlock the damn doors. *eye roll*  Then I called Todd Archer to tell them I want the damn thing disabled since this is now the second time the panic alarm has gone off all on its own. When I bought the car, I was told it would never go off unless I pushed the button on the key fob. Obviously. I hate the key fob. I don't even use it. Apparently, that's the issue. I lock the car using the power button inside the car and unlock it using the key.  The key fob is a pain in my ass. Especially in winter, wearing gloves. BUT, since I lock the car using the power button and unlock it using my key, the car, apprently thinks someone's breaking in. How retarded is that? And how completely random? Why doesn't it go off every single time I unlock the car? I think it's defective.  I told the dealer I would try only using the key fob or just the key and see what happens. Otherwise, I may be returning a car that I've fallen in love with driving since I was told the alarm can't simply be disabled.  I'll show you disabled!

I made it to the store & back with no incidents, other than my fingertips felt like they were in the beginnings of frostbite. I had difficulty loading up my Michelin-man arms with my groceries and I had to find another bag to put all the pizza's in since the grocery store bags broke, but Hey! What the hell! Bring it on! I can take more shit in a ONE HOUR PERIOD! 

I didn't even lock my car. Granted, it's sitting inside the garage, but I always lock my car. Always. I'm afraid if I leave it unlocked once or twice, it'll become a bad habit and I'll be leaving it unlocked sitting in the Walmart parking lot. Rather than a stupid panic alarm going off, I just won't have a car.

But I can't take another panic alarm today. I've had enough. I'm going to curl up on the couch with my new sherpa-blanket and try not to cause any harm to the cat. Try.

I will not be trying the Feats of Strength.  In fact, I think I've already failed the Feats of Strength. The day has won.

"You don't get rich writing science fiction. If you want to get rich, you start a religion" --L Ron Hubbard

I talk a big game. I say I won't allow a bully or threats or harassment to tear me down. When I say that, I believe it, wholeheartedly.

And then shit happens again and I'm physically, intellectually & emotionally exhausted and I begin to think, "I can't take this anymore."

Weighing the Harm of Staying vs. the Harm of Going. Which is the least harmful? Which is the most helpful? Which isn't going to drive me to.............

I am stressed. I am disheartened. I am so damn tired. My body is suffering. My brain is suffering. I don't eat. I barely sleep. My head hurts every damn minute. My right arm has been painful for 3 weeks. My neck is spasming. My jaw hurts like hell.

How much more can I take before I become the Hunchback of Notre Dame?

Tonight, my answer would be, "No more. I can't take anymore." 

Tomorrow, I believe & hope my answer will be, "Fuck you, you goddamn asshole. I'm not going to let you beat me down. I will take my lumps. I will learn my lessons. And I will kick a high heel to your crotch & smile while doing it."

"But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?" -Mark Twain

I am appalled by the tragedy that occurred in Connecticut.

You may think I think otherwise the further you read, but keep coming back to that first sentence. Appalled.

The more events of this type occur, the more & more I wonder about the perpetrator. Most people are concentrating on the victims. Media outlets won't even mention the perpetrator's name, but once, so as not to 'give him glory'.  Yes he committed a vile act. Yes it was atrocious. Yes it is a great tragedy.  I always wonder, though, what drove him (and it's usually a 'him') to commit such a violent, despicable act?

He & his family are as much victims as the children & adults who were gunned down by his own hand. A victim of what? Society. The media's talking about gun control, gun control, gun control.  How about we talk about the state of our mental health services or the lack thereof? It will take centuries to rid our country of the numerous legal & illegal guns on the streets and in our homes. Centuries....or a dictatorship. I say, if you're not in the military, you don't get a gun. You'll only get a gun when the country is invaded during war and every man, woman & child is needed to defend the great U.S. of A. That's what the second amendment means. It does not mean you, me & Joe Blow have the 'right to bear arms'.  I, honestly, don't think it will ever be done. Not with Republicans in Congress. We're too chicken shit. BUT, our provision of mental health services can certainly change NOW. And yet, I repeat myself, not while Republicans are in Congress.

So, what would drive a person to kill his mother and then kill little children?  I'm not sure we'll ever truly know what was in the mind of this killer; since he did himself in, he takes those last thoughts with him.  But I have to wonder if he had some sort of psychotic break and his mind was no longer his to control. Or maybe he was abused and finally just snapped. Maybe something happened to him at that school and he wanted others to feel as much pain as he felt. I hope that, whatever the reason, society will finally take some responsibility for the actions of its citizens and realize that we're as much to blame as the shooter himself.

I am mostly sickened by people whose child was spared saying, "An angel was in the room".  Really?!? And where was the goddamn angel when the other 20 children were gunned down. Oh, right. He/she/it was busy saving your child but I guess those other children just weren't 'holy' enough.  How utterly ridiculous. I wish people would take 10 seconds to ponder what's about to come out of their mouths. Just 10 little seconds. Religious people are so busy trying to justify why their god sat by while this tragedy occurred (free will; he doesn't go where he's not wanted...that's the best one I've heard so far), they're not living in reality. There isn't 'evil' & 'sin' in this world as you think of it from the Bible.  There are only sick, sick people.

God may bring you comfort. I don't know how. I don't think I'll ever understand it. It goes beyond comprehension, logic, reason, sanity.

Why call him god, indeed.

I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ll bet it’s hard to pronounce.

Wow. Quite a rant Tuesday evening, huh? Amazing how much anger one tiny little person can feel. I don't think I've ever been that angry before. Always a first time for everything. I had so much angry energy, I couldn't sit still. I had to burn it off. I did not want to drink. I put in my ear buds & cranked the volume. I went for a walk. Didn't work.  I did at least 100 curls/shoulder presses. Curl to shoulder, press to ceiling, down to shoulder, uncurl. Over & over & over & over & over, all to the beat of Eminem and Linkin Park, the angriest music I own. Every time Norah Jones came through my ear buds, I'd scan to the next song. No sappy music for me, thanks. After I couldn't lift my arms anymore, I paced & paced & paced & paced. I ended up sitting on the floor in my hallway. It's my soothing place. I sang at the top of my lungs and didn't give a rat's ass if my neighbors were annoyed. They could have been pounding on my door. I wouldn't have known because I couldn't hear anything but angry music in my head. I was finally able to go to bed, much later than usual.

I didn't even eat dinner. I hadn't eaten since Monday evening and even that was just a bowl of cereal.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger.

An alcoholic needs to remember HALT: Don't get Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired. Well, hell, 3 out of 4 ain't bad.

I woke up @ 3AM feeling like I had the worst hangover in the world. My mouth was dry. My stomach was nauseous. My head was killing me. But I wasn't hungover. I was sober. I would remain sober. I had no regrets; no remorse; no guilt; no shame.

I'm taking the next right step and can I just take a moment here to pat myself on the back? I'm damn proud of myself. From August 2011 to now, I've done the next right thing. I needed help. I got it (thanks to Ma & Pa & many friends). I've done everything I can do to stay sober. I go to AA. I call my support. And I work my ass off, all throughout an incredibly stressful & difficult period in my life. When confronted with a horrible situation, I took the next right step. I did everything I should have done. And now that the result hasn't changed the horrible situation, I'm, again, taking the next right step. 

I am one resilient bitch. I will not back down. I will not allow this wrong to continue. I will not put up with this bullshit any longer. There is nothing anybody can do to hurt me.

I'm an alcoholic. I've already been to my own personal hell. This is nothing. This is a cake-walk. Bring it on, bastards. Bring. It. On.

"Men never commit evil so fully and joyfully as when they do it for religious convictions." - Blaise Pascal

Bear with me folks. This one's going to contain A LOT of cuss words. Sometimes they're the only words that, in a fury, a person can think to use. Tonight, I actually said the phrase, "Christ on a stick!" I'm so damn mad.

In fact, I'm so fucking pissed off, I can't even watch television and that just infuriates me even more. Because, how am I supposed to calm down? Television is my 'wind-down' and now I don't even have that. Instead, I'm listening to music really, really loud and singing at the top of my lungs. I'm sure my neighbors are pleased, but fuck them. I put up with enough of their shit, they can deal with this for one goddamn night. Can you guess what I'm shouting? You betcha. Thanks Christina. Thank you for 'Fighter'. Don't know what I'd do without it. I'd definitely drink, that's what, and don't think that hasn't crossed my mind. More than crossed my mind. I considered driving straight to my parent's house tonight, but decided Elvis wouldn't survive another minute without my attention. I wish I'd only stopped to load Elvis into his carrier and then driven straight there, no matter the consequences of dogs & cats living together. I want nothing more than to drink. No, that's not true. I want nothing more than to cause major physical harm to....my voodoo doll, apparently, because I am incapable of causing physical harm to another being. But what about a being so evil it's beyond human comprehension? Is physical harm o.k. then? *head shake* I can't even imagine it then. 

So, instead, I called my dad and prepared him for the onslaught of verbal abuse he was going to have to listen to on behalf of the major dickhead/asshole/prick/bastard/sonofabitch in my life who I'm unable to rant & rave at. I love my dad for listening to my verbal vomit in my "I-can't-think-of-anything-better-to-say-so-I'm-going-to-use-every-cuss-word-in-my-repertoire" and then also wanting to pummel said-dickhead on my behalf.

And then I sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. I hugged Elvis. I sobbed some more all over him. He licked my hair and then I thought, Fuck This. Fuck that goddamn asshole (not Elvis). I will not cry one more fucking tear over what he's done to me and what he will continue to do to me, no doubt. This will not cause me to drink. Fuck him for threatening my goddamn sobriety. I will not give him that goddamn satisfaction, motherfucker.

Apparently "Fuck" and "Goddamn" are my go-to words, huh. I have more.

You evil son-of-a-bitch. How dare you. How dare you be so fucking arrogant, you teeny tiny little shit. You're the most incompetent, vile piece of shit I've ever encountered, and trust me, I've encountered many evil men in my life...but you! Oh, YOU! You take the cake you fucking rat-bastard and that isn't something you should be proud of. In fact, you should crawl back to that fucking hole you dug yourself out of. You're a user. You're a spineless, weak man. I am going to do everything within my power to undo everything you've done. I hope your soul rots in whatever hell you believe in. I was mostly ambivalent before. Now you've unleased my wrath and you will be sorry, you sick SONOFABITCH.

My voodoo doll can't take much more punishment. But I guess that's the point, isn't it?

Those might look like cute whiskers poking out of voodoo's cheeks. They're not.

"You know the message you're sending out to the world with these sweatpants? You're telling the world, 'I give up. I can't compete in normal society. I'm miserable, so I might as well be comfortable.'" -- Jerry Seinfeld, The Pilot

I love re-reading posts from just days ago. Part of me cringes; another part of me thinks, "What the hell changed?"; and another part of me just rolls my eyes & smirks.

I believe at the end of my last post I said something about feeling pretty darn good and that maybe, just maybe, I can make it in this world. It was a Thursday. My. Day. Off.

I swear, the next day and the day after and the day after that, I was thinking the exact opposite: What's my exit strategy for this world?

Who thinks like that?

This whole job-thing is really getting me down. Why isn't there a job out there that pays me what I'm worth, challenges me, excites me, and doesn't come with incompetent idiots? Why doesn't my job, now, satisfy those needs? Why am I surrounded by judgmental fools?

The real question is and always is: What have I done to make it so bad?

And then I start ragging on myself. I'm a horrible person. I'll never make it anywhere. I'm incapable of compassion and sympathy. I could care less about humanity. I hate people. I'm defensive. I'm angry. I'm stubborn.  I'm self-righteous. I'm judgmental. I'm right. You're wrong. But I'm also wrong because I'm stupid, too. I have no self-confidence. I'm a complete & total fake. I'm full of fear- fear someone will recognize that I suck; fear that I'll be fired; fear that I'll drink again; fear that I'll never make it.

Is there a job out there that requires a person to not speak or interact with another human being? That's the only job I'll ever be able to get. I'll become that person-- the one who works from home; weighs 500 pounds; rarely, if ever showers; and has absolutely no social skills whatsoever, except with cats.

Hell, I'm practically there already. I'm gonna go put on my sweats.