Smoking, Writing, Dating, Jealousy, and a zillion other deadly sins….. and / or questions.

Okay… okay! I have been coping out on writing anything REAL with my recent posts telling you to “go read other people, watch these movies, and look at these pictures” kind of posts lately.

So…. here is the deal.

I am going to answer all of the questions my friends, family, and anyone else, asked.

This is going to be a LONG one. Probably boring, and up for the next few days.

You can SKIP to the questions that YOU ASKED, or, you can read the whole damn thing… its your call. I just don’t have the time / energy to say these SAME things 25 different times to 85 different people.

I’m not even kidding.

Either I have grown into the la-aaaa-aaaaaaaaziest fucker alive, or I am stuck in some funky malaise, but… when I people ask me: “How was your day?” “How are you?” “How’s work?” “How’s the not-smoking going?” “Are you dating anyone yet?” “How far are you in the book? Are you still writing?” “Do you still keep a real journal, not on the internet?” “See any good movies lately?” “What books are you reading?” “How are the new medications affecting you?” “Can you eat more food yet?” “How’s the Crohn’s?” “What weight are you down to now?” “Do you really love the new chandelier?”….. “What if you were really a 300lbs male truck driver making posts in-between runs” “Are you single?”

My standard reply is always… “It’s on the blog, read it… I’m too tired.”

and NO, Jack, I AM NOT A 300 POUND MALE TRUCK DRIVER. but it’s always good to check those things out.

Now, I have never been good at answering my phone, or calling people back either. I rarely “go out” to socialize and I never make plans, because I usually break them. Occasionally, I’ll shoot off an email, now and again, but when I do, the email has listed about 30 recipients and usually gets deleted because the recipient(s) think its one of those “You have 10 seconds to pass this along to your entire email contact list or some really bad shit will happen to you.” kind of emails.

So the “BLOG” was / is a way for my family and friends to know what is happening with me, with out even talking to me.

Apparently, this blog, is the one and only way of communicating I can stand anymore…(probably because its one sided, my sided, and that’s how I like it.)

My mother knows this to be true.

She also knows that anything I am actually interested in, or a pressing matter that keeps me up all night, even a trip to the drug store…or something, I really hate / like / or love, ends up on my blog in some way shape or form.

That being said, on my car ride home last night, my mother called me on my cell phone for our daily commute-cell-phone-call. We have one in the morning, on the way into work, and one at night on the way home from work. Plus like 5 other calls during the day / night. (I have mentioned before I am highly addicted to my parents. In an oh-so-very-co-dependant kind of way))

Now, this “commute-cell-phone-call” made me laugh. Thus Post Worthy.

I was informed that since the FINAL picture of the NEW CHANDELIER isn’t posted on MOMMA MIA…my mother thinks I don’t really LOVE her new light fixture. She thinks that I am just saying I like it, because I haven’t made a big deal about it… because…… “Why haven’t you posted the good, new, picture (s) of the chandelier?”

Since when? If it doesn’t make my blog, it is not worthy?

So, MOM, “Do you really love the new chandelier?”… This is for YOU!!

YES… I LOVE THIS NEW LIGHT FIXTURE.

It’s beautiful.

It’s not too much, its not too little

its not too “uuu-n-gah-patch-ka”

it’s perfect.

These pictures don’t even do it justice.

M’kay? Do you believe me now?

When I tell you … YES!! IT’S GREAT!!

You are great, your house is great, when I grow up, I want to be just like you.

(and I am NOT being sarcastic, for once)

——–

Now, as for the QUESTIONS….here we go:

Number One: Smoking. (and Crohns. and Meds. and Weight. and Food)

I love cigarettes. Not as much as my girlfriend loves mint (but thats a whole other post in never gunna happen land). I love everything about them. I have loved them since I was ELEVEN. I miss them. Even though I still smoke 4 a day. (except for one day-last Saturday- when I had 5 cigarettes).

I am proud of the fact that I have been able to stay strict with my self-implemented RULES. I don’t care what anyone has to say, or hear any more advice from strangers on what will or won’t work for me.

THIS method, MY method, (the very same “method” my mother and Leslie used) IS working for me. 4 IS BETTER than 40! PERIOD! (fuck you!)…. and I think it’s working because I am not totally depriving myself of something I LOVE.

Christ, I can’t even enjoy a good meal anymore THANKS to CROHNS,
(I am on my fourth medication, 4 pills in the morning, 4 pills before bed, 2 pills with each meal. They seem to be helping more, less pain, less gas, normal bathroom use-age!!)

and ULCERS (which are no longer bleeding)

and a HIATAL HERNIA (so I always feel full – I have no appetite)

The least I can enjoy, is a SMOKE, after eating chicken broth for the 100th day in a row (I weigh 117, because I can’t even EAT the food I love, due to the aforementioned diseases / disorders.)

I need and want, and will have, a minty-cool Newport 100 smoke! I have given up enough! I can SMOKE. There will be no more “JUSTIFICATION” with respects to my smoking.

I smoke. The end.

————-

Number Two: Writing. (and Journals. and Work.)

I love writing. But, not as much as my girlfriend loves mint. I have written every day of my life since I was nine years old and I was given my first hello kitty journal with a lock and key. When I was 9, I used to write about the other kids in my class, or when my great grandfather died and there may have been some gripping entries about my cats too.

I still have about 95% of all my old journals.

Thankfully, my mother , saved ALL the journals written by me, when I was off hitch-hiking across the country and “touring with the dead.” Maybe? One day? a book about a 16 year old runaway, groupie, that ate too much acid and tattooed her own arm….(wait, that’s been done before…? Hasn’t it?)

I still have all my high school self-loathing journals and the letters that I sent back home. Which, when I read them now, crack me up! Was I really that angry-sad-rebellious-wise-ass-show-off-shit-for-brains-? Ummm… Teenagers….. are yucky.

(SOOOOOO dreading the day my 10 year old son, hits age 13….tear…)

But, therein lies a book? about a rebellious, 13, 14, 15 year old, lying sack of shit, teenage girl, trapped in a cult (look up Synanon because MY high school was based on THOSE concepts, and ACTIONS, and CONSEQUENCES and some of the teachings as well.) or the school could be considered a type of reform / military school, (with the dishes detail…) located in the isolated mountains of California with out leaving the confined property for the first year (no really, you weren’t allowed to leave the property for the 1st year) I had another “runaway” situation and landed in juvenile hall for 3 nights as a result of escape tactics. Along with almost having my leg amputated when bit by a black widow spider and the jumping out of a moving 18 wheeler semi tractor trailer moving at a good 30mph… that was only 6 weeks into freshman year.

But, the most interesting journals (and most well preserved journals) are the ones I am “working with”. I have saved and kept these pages from my former “life.” The ten years I worked in a BAR. A Go-Go bar. I am TRYING to develop those journals / that time in my life / in to my first “book.”

When I say I am “TRYING” I mean I write, and write, and write, and write, and then I hate it, hate it, hate it. Then, I re-write it, re-write it, re-write it, hate it, hate it, hate it.

And then I get on a roll. I start to feel really good about the shape and direction of the book. When I am on a roll, the phone is off, I cannot and will not be interrupted. I can write for days in. a. row. straight. non. stop. writing.

Then of course the inevitable crash and burn hits, so I sleep for 24 hours and wake up to re-read and RE-WRITE 75% of what I spent writing three days in a row.

BUT….It’s hard to get into a “flow” or stay with the ROLL with the constant interruptions / demands I have to deal with.…. I am stumped… not with “writers block” …because the journals are handy like that, but stopped dead in my tracks by all of my life’s little (and at times very big) duties.

I don’t know if it’s because the subject matter of my book, is just so dark, or because those 10 years brought me to my knees and taught me the phrase, “but for the grace of g-d…” (by the way… it’s very HARD to put a funny twist to some of these events) but I have been STUCK on chapter 10 since OCTOBER.

Now…. I am not making excuses because a real writer with a real desire and real passion will FIND A WAY any time or place TO WRITE, but I have found that my job and my day to day chores are sucking the life, therefore, the creativity right out of me.

Don’t get me wrong… I LOVE MY JOB. (definatley NOT as much as my grilfriend loves mint…not even close to as much as she LOVES mint.) I love that I HAVE a job. I am extremely LUCKY in many many ways to have been afforded certain opportunities. I am forever grateful. My job, played a large part, in saving my life.

But…..this is my desk… and my files…and the accounts that need IMMEDIATE attention, and this shit never fucking stops. never fucking stops. never, fucking, stops.

(I blurred out all names and / or association to work place(s) and account(s) because I am NOT ALLOWED to write about work)

…ooh, wait… that being said, maybe? I wont? put up any pictures of my desk? so I don’t get in trouble?

So, fine… this is ME at work ….. all stressed the fuck out!!

such a BAD picture!

I never look HAPPY in pictures?

Hmm… maybe? just one….PICTURE? Of nameless, faceless, STACK o’ FILES?

ah, fuck it…I asked aroundm took a poll, the people who work here here said the pictures WONT (as in WILL NOT) get me in trouble…everything is blurred out….

so, that being said, I will BLAME THEM IF I DO GET IN TROUBLE

here are a few of my desk / work space…

As you can tell, I’m really ORGANIZED with the business cards on the computer…

who needs a rolodex?!

HEY! defying gravity? watch my FILES climb UP the walls…

and THIS, LOVELY SIGHT.. what I see, the minute I walk into work:

happy! happy! joy! joy!!

… there are a million files, a thousand accounts and way too much to do every day, all day.

I am so beaten down by the time I get home. I drive home in silence. I can’t even listen to music in my car on the way home because any noise is upsetting while trying to decompress from the 9-5.

And we all know how much I “love” (said in the most sarcastic tone) the traffic and the damn NJTPK… sigh…

Finally, after finishing the running of a house hold (alone) it is well past 9pm.

Then I get to have some “ME” time. From 9pm till whenever the hell I fall asleep, I have to myself. To blow off steam, read emails, blog my own entry, (like writing this long ass boring ass post) or, “playing” with other bloggers and some days I even try to cram in some TV, maybe even squeeze in a phone call …. All before collapsing at 1030 1100pm.

Then, getting up at 530am to begin the monotony of it all over again.

(of course, I did find the time to write this complaint though, didn’t I?)

So why? Can’t I? find the time? I really!! need !! to dedicate to the “book?”

Because I am a single mother. Because I have a full time job. Because when I get home, I have no brain capacity to intake any information my son divulges about his day at school, let alone try to write a novel. Because if I stayed up all night writing like I WANT TO, destroying a thesaurus finding the perfect word for the perfect sentence, I’m too tired and can’t do my “real job” the next day. Because I am the only bill payer, only driver, only cook, sole cleaner, only food shopper, sole laundry folding, hard worker, only employee, sole paycheck of the house. With a full time disease that truly disables me at times. And because I TRY to live up to all my obligations to my family and my friends… (and yes, I do still keep real journal that I hand write in bed before passing out) and that does sound like a whole-lot-of-excuses.

If only… if only… time? money? more hours in a day? more days in a year? the lottery?

*The idea of an “arson scam” that Michael came up with is looking better and better*

That’s when number three…jealousy… rolls right the fuck in.
————

Number Three: Jealousy

Now, before I go pissing off another entire community, I KNOW BEING A STAY AT HOME MOM / WIFE is VERY HARD WORK. VERY.

But, I am so! Very! Jealous!! of the stay at home “community.”

I want some one ELSE to pay all the bills, be in charge of things, take some control, worry about the electricity being shut off, work all day in the office, deal with traffic, and just let me cook, clean and write (okay not cook… I set fire to things.)

And HI! It would be cool!! As hell!! to be home for my son!!! when he gets home from school, as I only have like three weeks left before he becomes a full fledged teenager and wants to go live with his father…. that’s when I drop dead…..(okay more like three years, but still, time with my son is moving too fast.)

I have two very different girlfriends that stay at home, in two very different ways. I am jealous of both of them. One is a very hard at home worker / professional writer that does 85 things at once, and the other one, well, lets just say she lives more of a life of LEISURE.

I love both of them, and I know in reality their lives are not as glamorous or as fun as I imagine it to be…but still… I wanna sleep till noon! and / or work in PAJAMAS.

I often find myself thinking, day dreaming, what I would do, really, if I could stay at home. I have all these wonderful plans and ideas and goals of what I would accomplish. But thinking about that too much makes it hard for me to get out of bed and go to work. My jealousy actually makes me resent my job… how FUCKED UP is that?
————-

Number Four: Dating.

where.the.fuck.to.begin? jeesus this should NOT all be in ONE POST….

Mkay, lets start with I AM SELFISH as HELL and I don’t even call back the people that are already in my life. I have no fucking time ever. I would rather write my book, that I have no time for, than sit in the uncomfortable dating silence with what may be a potential stalker serial killer.

I have tried online dating services to no avail, because I have NO PATEINCE either. Nor do I like being bombarded with 75 emails in ONE DAY from too many people that I can’t keep the candidates straight in my own head.

Since I never “go out”- I don’t meet people either.

I will never date anyone from MYSPACE. Pa-leeeze! Not to say that there AREN’T any “good ones” that MAY be on that site…. BUT I only have that account because it has helped me locate and connect with fellow high school friends (of which I have an unimaginable bond with as you may have read above, I went to a “special” school.)

I am content with being alone. I am self sufficient and independent (and I have a GREAT daddy who kills all my bugs and fixes all my flat tires.)

That was all until my girlfriend Patty, joined EHARMONY. Her experiences have been really great thus far, and may have peaked my interest. or given me hope?

(and my sister-in-law-MAYA is DYING for me to meet a nice man and fall in love. I love her for wanting ME to HAVE what she has with my brother Lee.)

Plus, my mother will finally stop saying… “When will you find your own husband, so you don’t have to borrow mine all the time?”

Daddy, I need you to open this jar. Daddy, I need you to help me paint my house. Daddy, I need you to lift heavy objects. Daddy, help me move. Daddy, I need five dollars. Daddy, I was just in a car accident. Daddy I have a flat tire. Daddy I was just in another car accident, yes I know I was just in one yesterday, but I hit another car today too….. Daddy, I need you to go to the pharmacy right now for tampons, yes I know there are other women who work in the office that probably have some in their purses, but, no! I wont! ask them, I need YOU to go to the store for me, okay, like now? Daddy, there is a HUGE BUG in my house and I am too scared to kill it. (and FYI It wasn’t even a BUG in my house, I thought it was a bug. It looked like a bug. It looked like it had legs. But at 1130pm at night after my dad drove over to my house to kill the bug, it turned out to be a broken hair clip.)

so um, yeah, I can see why my mother wants me to have my OWN “go-to-guy”.

but I don’t, I have my daddy and I am 32 years old. real nice.

So MAYBE? I might? consider? the possibility? of EHARMONY. maybe?

OH! And I just might? look into the possibility of GROWING THE FUCK UP…heh?

Well that’s just about enough, for one day, shit, that’s enough of post for the whole damn weekend.

Now? maybe? I will go write that “book”. Or go join e-harmony?

Hope I don’t manage to piss off another ENTIRE “Q-munnity”….