Moody Meow

Good: See Eyeware. They are on Park Ave, and have really lovely and interesting frames that are not terribly priced. After I thought about the process of Target, Sears Optical and Lenscrafters I found I didn’t want to deal with the crap-tastic common fold. You can pay something outrageously cheap for the frames, but then you should almost always tack on another hundred bucks for an insurance plan, lenses, some kind of coating, and other random charges. See Eyewear has the price right on the frame. I balked initially. They weren’t cheap. But the lenses were included, and although there was an added charge for coating, I didn’t feel so insulted. The woman who helped me was quite enthusiastic and chipper. I knew I wanted color, purples or reds, and she really didn’t deviate from that. I love that she actually listened to what I wanted. We bounced around the store for less than a half hour. I pirouetted in front of the mirror (trying to ignore my melon head and spongy gut) and found the pair that worked the best for me. D’s arguement against the black glasses I wear has been that they hide my features. The half-frames that I bought after the black ones just felt so damn fragile, and I don’t think they look terribly good. The ones I purchased on Sunday (they should get here in a week) are half frames again, but red plastic. No wire. They are pretty striking and I think they are just tons of fun. I almost bowed to the pressure of 50’s cat-eyed glasses with rhinestones, but I caught myself. I don’t think rhinestones go with a shaved head…just doesn’t work.

The Bad: Chase Credit Cards. I’ve been getting screwed by the credit card company. They are evil. I thought Providian was bad, but Chase had been charging me some 11 dollar charge for “protection.” I never signed up for it. We paid of all the cards and I called to cancel my Chase card. The person on the other end of the line was startled out of their script, trying to figure out what excactly they had to do. Then they told me that I couldn’t cancel till my payment cleared and we found out exactly what the “administrative charges” were. Bullshit!! But, fine. So, I checked the account online today. Payment cleared. Zero balance. I called again. Script…script…..bloody script. The woman I was sent to, a specialist (must be specialized in fucking people over….offered me a 7% rate for 1 yr if I transferred a balance) who tried to keep me on the phone and keep my business with them. I kept saying over and over “No, thank you, I would just like to cancel the card.” Over and over. I finally stopped listening. I think she realized it too, because she relented. The card is cancelled and I willl never do business with Chase again! Bastards.

I rode for 20 minutes this morning. Far short of my half-hour goal, but I had to get the damn dogs to calm down. Now, I am off to do time sheets and to get my people paid. I hope all of you have a happy monday….

I woke up wanteing to kill. I know it’s just me being tired. So much on the table, so much to digest. I put myself in this basket. But, I feel upended. My breasts’ weight pulls me forward. They want to rest on the desk. I want to rest in my bed. Perhaps punching someone would make me feel better. No. My heavy, achy mammaries would bounce. That kind of ache pulls groans from your belly, deep within where the managable but heavy kind of pain sleeps. I want to kill. Perhaps I should just have a cup of coffee.

Today is one of my mean-spirited days. My face feels like an oil slick and I know my brows are knit in concentration. Perhaps I should wear my glasses more. The headache’s back. You know the one, it starts monday, lingering in the hall like stale air, and you come to Friday and feel it again. I think I need a nap. Maybe I need to kill. David, what should I do? You always know best. (please don’t be mad at me if I’m mean today….just send me to bed). I have a lot to look forward to this weekend, but it’s not making this mood float past rage. What could I possibly be mad about? Dogs and cats are swimming in slime and filth, wandering the streets looking for food. My creatures are safe (and Pip’s gone back in the crate for the 8 hour days - got one of D’s books) and I can provide for them.

Out of this mood I must go.
Think of happy things:
the shaving lotion we use still lingers on my legs
the new shower curtain lets in more light, making shaving and other hair removal easier
Voodoo was chasing his tail in the bathroom again, but he does it while lying down.
I shall see Miss A and the fam on Saturday, and I am quite thrilled.
Vanya and D and I are going to do brunch on Sunday… someone send her groovy vibes - Vanya needs them.
Tonight I have a conversation planned with women…. it should be interesting.
Deep Dish’s new album makes me happy
I think the coffee is kicking in.

I should just suck it up and deal.

On the wrong side of the couch. And coming to work didn’t make it any better…so me and my mood are going to remain quiet today. Just thought I would warn you all.

For those of you in Orlando, don’t bother going to any Racetrack. I just paid 3.09 for gas because I thought everyone was running out. Then I drive near the house and they are selling it for .20 cheaper! Those fucktards!

And they ran out of regular.
Bastages.
I could kill them.
Yeah, I just paid $24 to fill my tank when it wasn’t empty. Ouch.

But on a happy note, a girl working in the cafe gave me an extra shot for my mocha because she remembered me. Apparently I stand out from the masses here at Rollins. Then again, I’m almost thirty and a night student.
I think it’s the shaved hair!

I hate money.
I was supposed to register on the 7th - not the 17th and I’m now locked out of registration.
The politics in my office are getting sticky.
I am turing 29 in less than 2 weeks and I’m offically not happy about it.
I hate birthdays.
I don’t know what to do for my birthday.
My nailpolish is chipping.
There’s too much to do and too little time in which to do it.

I’m just in a shite mood now. I think I will go gorge myself with chocolate from the vending machine. (and I forgot my fucking snacks too……argh)

My history with Panera is not a good one. It seems to span stores, from the one at the Milennia mall (near where I work) to the one near Lake Eola. Do you know that the problem is? Attention spans. See there’s little follow through with their customer service. And I am telling you, this is a company problem, not just a store problem. When I go (which is not terribly often these days because of my past experiences) I get one of 2 things. Either A) a bacon turkey bravo, no tomato, on a sourdough baguette or B) broccoli cheddar soup with an extra roll (which I pay $0.35 for). This is not rocket science, people! Every time I go to Panera, they either argue with me about the extra roll, or they put my sandwich on the wrong bread, or they forget to make the sandwich at all (this happened twice at the Lake Eola location) and I have to have a hissy just to get fed.
Well today I was craving a sandwich. I thought “what the hell, this Panera has to be on the ball. They are at Milennia!” Wrong.
I was the only person in the damn place that was trying to order. Order taken, without too much difficulty (I had to explain twice that I wanted a sourdough baguette, not the nasty bread the sandwich comes on, and NO tomato) and I took my cup for iced tea and peered at the time 11:07. Good. Plenty of time to get back to work. The place is less than 5 minutes away from my desk (especially because I speed) so there was plenty of time…yeah. 11:15. Five people who came in after me have now sat down with their food. They are preparing a large order for someone involving multiple bags and lots of soup and salad. I start scowling, cutting eyes at everyone behing the counter. 11:25. A line has formed at the register. There is a crowd of people around me. Customer after customer walks away, beaming, because they have their food. I am starving. My stomach grumbles. A man next to me looks over, and I grimace. I can’t bring myself to smile. 11:30 More people eat. I’ve had enough. Waving my reciept like a flag, I appeal to the one person who seems to know what is going on in the place. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been waiting 20 minutes for my sandwich. Do you have an order for Erica?” She looks sadly at me. She must see the hunger on my face. “No, but what did you have? I’ll make it right now.”
Five minutes later I exit Panera, sandwich in a brown bag, and $5.75 in my pocket. The cost of my sandwich. And apparently, the cost of waiting 20 minutes for a bacon turkey bravo……

They still put tomatoes on the damn thing.

But my stomach isn’t grumbling anymore. That’s something.

County Commission Bans Support Of Gays

That’ s right! Let’s make EVERYONE feel welcome in this fucked up little world of ours. Instead of worrying about who’s sucking cock and who is getting screwed, why don’t these people expend this kind of energy trying to help the homeless or promoting tolerance and acceptance. Spend the time putting forth measures to teach illeterate adults, or boosting music and arts programs in schools…..

I don’t mind if you don’t agree with my beliefs but for fuck’s sake, how dare you!
You know what it is?? A book was involved. We don’t want the little kiddies reading about this kind of sinful, disgusting stuff. Heaven’s knows they may turn homosexual by just reading the word on a page. *end sarcasm*

This country glorifies violence. We would be better glorifying love of all kinds…..

PETA film

This undercover footage was shot in a lab in Virginia. After watching it, without sound, I just feel fucking sick. How can someone treat animals this way? What happened to respecting the earth’s creatures? Why are people (and the experiments for them) more important? I don’t agree with animal testing. I don’t want to hear the arguements about how we need to do it in order to understand medicine. These creatures did not choose this life. If you want to participate in a clinical trial, then by all means, go ahead. But what is done to these animals is a sin, in any religion.

I think I am going to be sick.

Okay, so I went down to the Sprint Store again yesterday. I told them what was going on, and again they reprogrammed the phone. I called D and told him that the phone was supposed to be fixed. Got home. Saw that I had a message from Jess. Got some of the message before the fucking thing lost the signal…and that signal never came back (so, Jess, sorry I didn’t call you back….but I couldn’t!)

When I went in yesterday I inquired about an upgrade. I can’t get one until next year. I miss my old phone. It worked, and well. It rarely lost a signal (even in the hurricanes) and after I figured out that I had my settings wrong (which was why my battery was draining so quickly) all was well.

This phone, this peice of shit they gave me doesn’t work. I don’t know what else I am going to have to do to get this resolved. They don’t seem to care, don’t seem interested in listening…… They have me by the balls, dangling me in the air and we are now paying for a 2nd line that we can’t use because this is a peice of crap.

We are now contemplating how to break the contract. I hate Sprint

Okay - it’s come up through various sources that I am very much out of touch at the moment. The reason I’m not calling anyone is because my phone is STILL fucked up. I can’t seem to get Sprint to admit that they gave me a bum phone. I can’t call. I can’t get my messages (I can, but its only sometimes). The only way I can talk to people is by using D’s phone…so if I haven’t called you or text messaged you or what ever….don’t take it personally. The only people I have spoken to at length were during the random periods when my phone decided to work…..

This is an e-mail on Myspace I got from some random idiot:

hey i know you are bi but do you still like a cock once in awhile if so let me know maybe we can hook up sometime for some fun

….I thought my profile said I was married…I swear, some people are just infantile. Where in my profile does it say that I am looking for sexual exploration with random fugly men? I thought I was looking for interesting people to chat with. No where did I mention sex.

This was my reply:
I hate to burst your bubble, but 2 lines above where I say I am bi, I say I am married. I think my husband (because I am married to a man) would have a slight problem with my fucking around with some random guy… sorry hun, but any fun to be had with me doesn’t involve a stranger’s cock.

Was that too harsh…….never mind. I don’t really care if it was…..buttheads….and the grammar !!!! It makes me want to puke! I hate run on sentences without any kind of punctuation (and I prefer too much punctuation to too little)

Bedtime for me….

David is right, I have been in a funk for weeks, and I can’t seem to get out of it. I didn’t sleep much this weekend. What’s worse is I didn’t get shit done for my classes. I didn’t study. I just zoned out and prayed for the best. My prayers really haven’t been answered….if they were, I would have slept soundly and without self-induced interruption.
Did David set the alarm? Do I have enough milk for my breakfast? When should I get my tires rotated? Do I have time tomrrow to ride or should I do that after I finish my paper?
Inane things. Things that need daylight to come to fruition hung like rotten produce in my basket of potential . And today, beneath these lights and expectations, I am exhausted beyond words.

I don’t know if you don’t want to hear the truth but closing comments is a nice way to push this into a public arena. I could do the e-mail thing, but drama such as this (and this is drama at its ugliest) is so much healthier in the open.

If there is a perception shift in who you are as compared to who you were before this whole things started then I think you need to look into the mirror to find its source. I invited you into my home. I tried to help you out when you needed it. You seemed so disillusioned by friends, that I wanted to make sure you understood that friendship isn’t all taking …. I tried. And when the shit hit the fan you decided to be a superhero, lashing out at the world (and let me tell you right now, I take that shit personally.). You wanted to do things on your own, and I feel like it was to spite those of us who offered help. I didn’t understand the shift in personality.. Seeing you the last time (which was akward considering the situation) just reaffirmed what I felt through what I have been reading: you don’t care about maintaining a frienship with D and I . If you want to tell your side, then get some balls and do it. That conversation we had in my kitched about friendship was real. It was truth. I told you I would always tell you it straight, and here’s the deal: If you never enter our house again, it is going to be your choice. I can maintain friendships regardless of what else is going on. It’s a shame to see that you don’t want to do the same.

D and I have done nothing but try to make you feel welcome in our home as as a part of our lives. We don’t deserve such disregard.

This seems a touch extreme

I remember this case from last year. I thought what this kid did - the stickers and paint was awsome. Bringing fire into the mix is just dangerous, and so I understand why his cohorts fled. But I think 8 years is extreme. Come on! He fucked up a few trucks (which are doing untold damage to the enviornment). Meanwhile, there are real criminals (Enron anyone??) who are dancing around in their skivvies laughing at the justice system. If anyone believes that the justice system is fair they are fools. Like government, it’s all about a theatrical production fueled by cash.

Personally, I agree with the extreme measures that some enviornmental activists take. People won’t listen unless you make it spectacular. The mob, as a group, is realitvely simple and their attention is focused on the immediacy of their world. No broad scope, no empathy and understanding for nations and people uknown to them. It’s all about suburbia, spawn and a nice shiny new Hummer.

What in the hell am I supposed to do with a suicidal ex-friend who lives in California and seems intent on taking his own life? I cut those ties for a REASON!! And so this selfish fuck decides to pin the shit on me, like I am the one who made his life the shithole it is. God damnit, people! Take fucking responsibility for your own pile of shit and leave me to enjoy my greener grass.

Richard: How is it that your misery is my fault?? That’s a lot of power to give to someone who lives on the other side of the universe!! We knew each other for less than 24 hours on an night of upswept dreams but I didn’t even kiss you! And although the months of getting to know each other through phone calls and letters was fun, I knew that there would be no plane ride to california for me. What kind of fool would I have been to move in with a crazy person? There can be only one, and I’m it! So, you write this whole diatribe about how the world is shit and you are just going to off yourself. My reply “Why did you e-mail me.” I thought it a sane question. What did you expect me to do? Fly out there and repair your damaged life? Over and over again you have snorted what ever you could get your hands on and put your heart on a platter for women to consume. And consume they did, leaving you with the familiar husk of your familiar mistakes. What can I do with that? I tried to listen, to understand. But you were never interested in me after I lost interst in “us” (and how could there really have been an “us” when I was busy fucking half of miami) and you didn’t see the turn I made into responsibility. That’s where your cross is, my dead friend. You are eons older than I, and you forgot to grow up. This isn’t a storybook, this is my life you are fucking up, my mood you are toying with with the woe-is-me bullshit. I’m not the hand that may feed you those pills, but you are the nails that tore tears from my eyes this morning. All I want to do is to heal, but you never wanted that from me. You needed an echo-chamber, a yes-man. I didn’t want to be that anymore, and you freaked out, like you always did. And then you didn’t want to talk to me anymore, so fine. And then you did, but I told you I wanted that door to stay closed. I told you to walk softly and I meant it. Not only for the rest of the world, but for you too. My last bit of advice you didn’t heed. Your response, long and incoherant, revealed your state of mind clearly. And then the random e-mail a couple days ago that started this whole thing.

If you are going to kill yourself then have the decency to leave me out of it. You blood will not stain my hands…..

The following are the letters:

Erica,

i know that you did not call for a response or an explanation. all i
will say to you now is this: i have lost all that mattered to me in my
life. all of my friends all that i loved. even my family has abandoned
me now. the person that i was so close to for so long has hatred so deep
towards me that she has actually made false alegations about me in order
to abtain a court order against me. i have done nothing to these people
but love them. suicide seems so worn out now but i just cannot see any
hope for survival in this hell that has become my life.

with an ocean of tears
good bye
~Richard

___

Why did you e-mail me?

___

yea,
that’s exactly what i needed as i sit here in despair staring at this giant
bottle of vicodine in fear. you used to be such a warm and caring person. you
should try and find that person again because responding with such cold
hearted spite is just plain cruel. someday you will realize that i was a good and
decent person who had more love in his heart than most. i do not expect any
help from you or even sympathy, i was just saying goodbye because it seemed
right. you need not display your indifference to my existence any longer…it
is people like you that has led me to this place and it seems something has
happened to the world that has turned all the good people bad. i have NEVER in
my entire life even heard of so many people treating one with such blatant
cruelty. it is mob mentality and it is as wrong as anything there is in this
world and i will very soon be rid of it, the pain, the stress, and the
inexplicable hatred that seems to be all the world has to offer anymore.

do not bother to write back , i will not be here to read it.

~R

__

How is asking that one question spiteful and cruel?
And how is e-mailing someone across the fucking country with this going to help
you?
If you were looking for a response filled with “don’t do it,” you won’t get it.
I told you that in my last long letter to you.

I don’t know why you are projecting this all on me. I don’t know what you want.
And frankly, I can’t help you. You need to do that for yourself. I can’t right
the wrongs done to you and I don’t think I have anything to apologize for. My
conscience is clear….. I hope yours is too.

Find some help. Do something, but don’t ever write me again.
__

And that is the end of it. I’ve put you on a blacklist, so should you e-mail me, I will never see it. I hope you are happy because this harvest is born of your soiled seed.

Simmering sweetly, this rage bubbled beneath my smile. You see, the plane couldn’t be taken for such a wretch as I. The distance too far to traverse for something so unimportant. It’s the stillness, and a surprise online chat that brings this to the forefront. He tries to comfort me. He tries. But my bruises selfisly throb. My tears shamelessly fall, and my heart rages on.

Beat me up. Bind my hands behind my back and whip me mercilessly. But don’t disappoint me. That’s the death of such things as friendship and family. I can forgive a lot of things, because my karmic debt is not paid. But it was a moment beyond the grasp of such influence. You missed the candle-lit tumbling of words. I couldn’t see their smiles in the darkness as we clumsily fumbled. But I felt them there. Yours was missing. I felt that too. But in the rush of picture-moments, drunken dialing, and jokes by a well groomed fire, I could push you back…just like swallowing bile. It tasted that rich, that compelling. Now the house is still. I’ve refocused and found that beyond this disappointment is a boat load of hurt. I would give it back to you if I could. But I can’t, even now.

I realize life rages on beyond my street. Sometimes the airlines don’t connect. Sometimes 8 hours is just too much. Logically, your abscence makes sense. But, if you haven’t guessed by now; I’m not a woman of logic. I’m a woman of feeling. And I hurt. This is your doing. and yours. and yours……..fuck you for tainting my firelight with your indifference.

I’ll get over it. Forgive. Move beyond this momentary anguish and questioning. But I won’t forget. How can I when you didn’t even bother to show up for the pictures?

Ring Ceremony, visiting family, trying to figure out how to get 2 wheelchair bound people through the back gate and how to keep my head from hurting.
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There are forces within me that are trying to drag my ass back into bed. Little people with malicious intentions are hanging out in my forehead, thwapping the back of my eyes most painfully. I won’t even mention the evil fuckers that are kicking me in the womb. All I have to say is: Ouch.