Experience my negative emotions, then set them free.

Attempting not to dwell on money worries at the moment. Unable to get a crappy job (read: retail, waitress, and other jobs that don’t permit much freedom) because of my recurring ailment (see “Heal” goal for details.) Trying to find ways to earn from home besides telemarketing, which I despise.

Not only have I fallen behind on bills, but BOTH cars need repairs (the mechanic said one tire was about to fall off and its a miracle I wasn’t killed)and my property taxes on my tiny condo went up an additional $1200 a year.

I’m consciously buying less at the grocery store and yet my bill has increased.(Bastards!)Gas is increasing again too.

It’s extremely hard to keep a postitive outlook when there hasn’t been any improvement in over a year of actively trying to get income.

Okay. Done with worrying about it. Off to meditate and hopefully create positive things. Law of Attraction, listen up, dammit!

The more I physically clean areas of my home, the more pissed off I’m getting. I’m mercilessly throwing things away that I hate, that have bad memories attached, that are useless, and that no longer serve me. But each thing I touch, each computer file I re-read, I realize how absofucking furious I am at everything, and I’ve shoved all of it into an emotional filing cabinet, trying not to freak out or have anyone angry at me because I don’t like something. How stupid is that? I’m worried that THEY won’t like ME because I’M inconvenienced, put out, let down, used, etc.

Today’s purge list:
~I deleted half my blogs today because none of my friends read them. Ever. I’m deleting the rest tomorrow, along with my websites, my email addresses, facebook, myspace, and all that other crap. Tired of putting all that shit in and being expected to pay attention to everyone else but get ignored.
~Angry at my husband for treating me like I’m just a replacement for his mother.
~Angry at my mother for taking every hobby/good idea I’ve ever had and making it her own, while she criticizes me for everything she doesn’t feel like taking.
~Angry at anyone who thinks doing “business” things has nothing to do with human beings. Business IS personal if there are people involved. Period. Stop justifying your greedy means.
~All advertising, marketing, sales stratgies and PR professionals can kiss my ass.
~People who move to the country from the city in order to “bring some culture to the natives”, or try to “develop” wide open spaces into strip malls should be hunted and shot repeatedly.
~The dozen or so guys who slept with me then dumped me for my friends can see me in hell.
~My current and ex in-laws are quite possibly the most manipulative people on the face of the earth. And their sons are possibly the most naive people on the face of the earth.
~My mother is the biggest liar in the universe who has created an alternate story of my teen years in order to commisserate with people her age. (I’d say friends but she doesn’t have any. Go figure.)
~I’m pissed that this country says it’s a democracy when it isn’t. It’s capitalist and consumerist. You don’t matter to anyone unless you’re buying something- product or ideology.
~The next person who sends me a chain letter email is permanently blocked and/or deleted. No exceptions.
~I’m angry at every person who never hired me because I’m female, my appearance, or because I wouldn’t give you a blow job.
~I’m angry that I wasn’t allowed to date, go to parties or the prom.
~I’m furious that my mother never told my father that I exist. Or that he knows and doesn’t give a shit. I don’t know what the truth is anymore.
~I’m angry that my husband didn’t come to my college graduation.
~I’m angry that I haven’t had children because a) my mother has been harassing me about “giving her grandchildren” since I was 20 b) my husband would take no part in raising them and c) he hasn’t touched me in years, so its a moot point anyway.
~I’m angry that he has a picture of the dog in his wallet, but none of me.
~Tired of being expected to take care of the house, the pets, and have a full time outside-the-home job so he can play video games all the time he’s home.
~Angry that he wants to work on Independence day when he knows how much I love to see fireworks.
~Angry that I haven’t been as brave as I want to be.
~Angry that every business plan I’ve tried has failed.
~Angry that I am who I am today because my family is a bunch of twisted fucks.

Time for some lemonade.

...but not for the reasons you may think. Seems that this week, I’ve been dealing with the flu. Since I don’t believe in General Practioner type of doctor (since they’ve never really done much for me) I don’t go to them. But I’m not a moron; I’ve had colds and flu before and I know what they feel like. I don’t need 8 years of school to tell me that.

The fever, the chills, the body aches aren’t pleasant, but they aren’t intolerable either. Sometimes I rather like the feeling of crawling into bed when my whole body hurts, or taking a cool shower and feeling the water made hot by head run down my body.

I’ll tell you the part that sucks for me. You know how sick people are taken care of by their loved ones? Well that doesn’t exist in my world. My husband comes home from work, asks how I’m feeling and then asks what’s for dinner. Um, yeah.

I guess if I’m up and walking around, I must be feeling damn good, good enough to cook him up a big dinner because he’s worked hard all day. It’s funny how no one is around to bring me juice or soup or a cold washcloth. How silly of me to expect some care-there are video games that need him! In the meantime my kitchen is a wreck because dishes haven’t been done in days, floors haven’t been swept, laundry hasn’t been done. Let’s not forget the grocery shopping, the dog walking, the cat boxes and the bird cage.

So after he gets his dinner, I retire to the bedroom because I’m worn out so easily. Besides, if he runs out of soda and I’m not walking around, I won’t have to get it.

Later I check my email to find my mother has written to me, responding to my telling her I was ill. First line verbatim:
“Don’t be a moron, go to the emergency room.”
See, mother is one of those band-wagon types who knows everything because she just saw it on TV. I’m surprised she hasn’t called the Center for Disease Control and had me quarantined yet. And thanks “Mom” for the sympathy. Calling me a moron is something I’m always happy to hear.

I am sick, I’m not dying. It’s no different than any flu I’ve had before. I’m treating it my way which has always kept it to less than a week. It’s not an emergency. This is not “28 Days Later” or even “Shaun of the Dead.” Although to be honest, I wouldn’t mind throwing my mother and husband to the zombies at this point.

But that’s not realistic. I’ll keep with my more down-to-earth fantasies of him getting the flu and me going on vacation, and at first opportunity putting mother in some crappy nursing home where she can tell them all what a terrible daughter I am. Oh, and what a moron I am.

I really need a better tribe. One that cares because they care, not because they’re legally or socially obligated to “care.”

Gee, I just can’t wait til my birthday on Friday. What a blast that will be with my family gathered around me. Yeah.

(Will be printing out rant, then setting it free through burning it. Then taking a nap.)

with this goal. I guess someone somewhere is paying attention to my existence here, because DAMN…I was slammed with a number of soul-rending crises, both real and imagined, that greased my downhill path into a big vat of depression goo.

I had a lot of things to be down about, but I realize now that it was my deciding to abandon most of my ideals in favor of a pitiful yet steady paycheck that led to my absolute hopelessness. Because if you let go of everything you want to live for, then what’s the point of living? It may not seem so to the naked eye, but everything on my 43T list is related in some way to every other thing on it. It’s my own personal web of life happiness. To wipe out one string is to ruin the rest of it.

I think for the past few weeks I’ve been lower than ever before in my life. It even discolored my thoughts on the pure good of kitties: I believed that they didn’t really love me, they just wanted food, water, a clean litter box and ample scratchies. I was convinced that all love is like this-just a user’s excuse to placate us naive types. “Oh but he/she/it LOVES me!” No, not really. They want stuff from you, that’s all, like adoration or sex or company. Any willing participant will do. You’re not that special or unique, you’re just THERE.

How cynical, eh? Deep down, I still believe this, because I haven’t yet seen evidence to the contrary. But after my weeks of surviving a bleak, dark side of me that I thought would never surface, things are clearer for now.

And somewhere, even deeper down, I still hope for peace within.

For the past few days I’ve been violently ill with some, shall we say, digestive disturbance. Today my stomach is distended and my torso muscles pulled from it all. My sleep patterns have been erratic (more than usual.) Last night..er..this morning around 1am, I was awake and watching a show on the Biography channel about the movie Animal House (sigh, I’m still half in love with Tim Matheson. This has been a crush of over 30 years.)

I was sipping Tummy Mint Tea (thank you, Celestial Seasonings) and nibbling gingersnaps and a tidal revelation came over me, like a voice out of nowhere that said “I’m so tired of being angry.” It shocked me a little. But I was still watching the program and the people were laughing and joking about their experiences and I started to think about how everything is my life is so fucking serious. I’m constantly worried/working on getting paid employment. I can’t stand any of my neighbors and I have no privacy living here. I hate the phone because only bill collectors call. I don’t know if my degree is good enough for a job outside of food service. I’ve gotten this “stomach virus” about 4 times in the last few months, where it hurt so much I wished for death. My mother can’t find anything good to say about me, ever. Even when I was working overtime, my husband said I wasn’t doing enough, and chores weren’t done. My dog has been constantly pooping on the floor, my cat peed on my bed. And as I wrote elsewhere, I just got rejected for a crappy job at a place I really wanted to work.

I haven’t had even a weekend away in ten years. I can’t remember the last time I was allowed to have fun. I’m so furious at everyone and everything it seems. My new neighbor allegedly hurt a neighborhood cat on purpose, because he “hates them.” I want to drive over his head until it pops. Or better, use my bare hands and knock his head into a cement wall, over and over again.

And some call me anti-social. Can’t imagine why.

It’s not just about me. I get irate seeing a group of a dozen teenagers who take up the whole sidewalk and make an old lady walk in the street. I make snide remarks when I see a customer abusing a store clerk, which happens often. I see self-absorbed idiots on cell phones in grocery stores, taking up most of the aisle with their cart so others can’t pass by. What the hell is wrong with people?

But I can’t do it anymore. I need a break from being eternally pissed-off. So I’m laying down my pile of bricks and walking away. After my nap, I’m going to paint my toenails with some royal purple nail polish, and paint a picture I thought of today. Then I’ll play with kitties and read my old Bloom County books.

If a neighbor bothers me, one of two things might happen: I’ll blow it off, or I’ll snap and blow them away. If you don’t hear from me for a time, you’ll know which one I chose.