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24 June 2015, 09:53

I use the same titles repeatedly, I know. But it fits.

I’m on the verge of maybe deciding to get on the treadmill. Maybe. This is part of the whole stalling technique I’m starting to master.

Change. I have it all going on in the wrong places.

I am not budging from my present weight. I have the rock hard turkey drumsticks, and I’m hungry most of the time, but I haven’t moved from being XXXX (aHA. You thought I’d tell you my weighty-weight. Nope. Not in this lifetime.) I’m not sure as to why it’s happening, but I’ll be googling it all here in a while, and probably will start some weird herb regimen or be on a water diet. Or just daydream about winning the lottery so I can just have it all sucked out through my butt cheek. It’s really deflating not seeing progress, and this is about the only thing I can even come close to controlling these days, and I can’t even make this happen in a meaningful way. At least I’m not putting ON weight. That would just send me bawling to the store to fill my basket up with Ben & Jerry’s and a box o’ wine.

Drinking would be a nice alternative to fretting, but the consequences of it are just too horrible to think about. The hangover from it would be the least of the punishments I would suffer through. There’s the stupidity I engage in DURING said drunky-drunks, and I don’t really have reliable enough sources that would tell me what I ACTUALLY did, said and posted during inebriation. My sources delight in telling extremely soul shaming tales of exploits I may or may have not done. So I’m left with fretting, sobbing, eating, exercising and cleaning, all of which suck and usually made better with the aforementioned drinking.

What am I fretting about? What has my stummy-ummy in knots and my head racing? What keeps me doing uncontrollable, deep quick sobs that I can’t predict? What has got me currently in a futile attempt at trying to hang on to what sense of humor I have left?

We might be moving again.


I have no particular wish to go to Illinois. I don’t know how cold it is, but I bet its REALLY cold. I don’t know anybody there, I don’t have a job when I get there, and I’m just scared shitless of nothing in particular and everything in general, so I can’t make preparations, and I can’t fix whatever could go wrong. Doug’s job MIGHT taking him to Illinois (maybe), because he did very well at it. He might be going to Illinois, he might be staying here. WHO FUCKING KNOWS? He doesn’t seem to be real thrilled with going, and I am carrying a load of guilt because I don’t have a job and that’s preventing any real choice in the matter. I feel really, deeply bad about not having a job most of the time. I think about it ALL the time. I think about the jobs I’ve lost because I’m over qualified, I think about the ones I can’t get because I’m not qualified enough, I think about the shit I can’t even interview for because I’m just one of a billion resumes and whatever I did/do/could do is not outstanding enough to be noticed. ALL this SHIT runs through my head ALL the time. Like some bad opera or maybe the discography of Nickelback that is played on high in your head that you can’t turn off.

Moving. This has always been pretty crappy for me. I have moved eight times in five years. You know what happens when you move? Stress beyond comprehension. And loss. I lose THINGS, I lose animals (kinda), I loose a sense of security. I loose a predictability of the environment that comes from familiarity. I lose friends. Well. I pretty much have lost the one friend I usually make in the time that I’ve been in the area. I don’t make close friends easily because I believe people are really no damn good and I don’t trust any of them as far as I could spit at them. I find myself desperately googling stats on where we are moving too, weather conditions, crime rates, etc. And all I’ve found out so far is that it’s going to be fucking cold a lot of the time and there is a large amount of whitey. It’s the midwest. It’s cold. There’s going to be a lot of whitey. Doug keeps calling it the “north”. It’s NOT the “north”. It’s the midwest – and not even the west or even the plains. There’s a lot of cold, and there’s a lot of fat whitey. But, there’s voices in my head just screaming in joy that I’m out of the South. And just when South Carolina gave me a legal driver’s license and decided to take down the confederate flag. I still don’t know if they’ve stopped fucking horses, or marrying relatives, but I guess, one step at a time. If I had my druthers though, I would like to move more west.

Which leads me to…

Unemployment. I’ll be unemployed. I’m unemployed now. And that sucks. Just think what being unemployed up there is like. And I can’t really do anything, like trying NOT to be unemployed until I get up there. Unemployment is one of those really bad things that make me really, really depressed. There is no joking about that, or the fact that I am now totally dependent upon another person, a situation I’ve really never been in for a long period of time. I’ve almost (pretty close) to seeing no hope, no light, no savior from this esteem killing, vomit inducing, tear-stained employment situation I’m in, and giving me shit or passive aggressive joking about it just makes everything so much more crappy. For better or worse, my job is a big part of who I am, and I just happen to pick a profession that is non-critical for anything. And we are in the midst of the sixth mass extinction, and I’m unemployed. It’s like having to stare at a magnification of the corn in someone’s poop everyday. And throw in that everything on the planet is dying for the sixth time. That part isn’t my fault, but it feels like everything else is.

I have to get on that treadmill. I don’t know why I have to. I know in my dark heart of hearts, it’s not going to help being tired and sweaty. And there’s a chance that the exercise will make things worse – it tends to make me emotional, and there’s always that big chance I drop over dead. And now I realize I’m stalling. So, now I’m a big poopyheaded staller.

God. I’d like a cookie right now.