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Thursday night - 7/20/00

I'd just about give anything, anything at all to tell my boss to shove it, to quit this asinine job and.... and.... and what? I don't know. I can be depressed and work or I can be depressed and not work. Is it going to matter in the end? Nah. But I do need to let out some major steam before my head blows clean off my neck as it's threatened to do a number of times this week.

He hasn't even been in town for the last day and a half but his presence is still felt....

When I came back to work after my vacation a few weeks ago, he called me into his office to tell me about some plans that were made while I was gone. Namely that my assistant and I would be losing our office to make room for the "temporary" service center. The REAL move (to the building further out in Oakland) isn't going to occur until sometime later in the fall. But in the meantime, he said, everyone had decided that the only way to accomodate the service center was to shift around a bunch of offices. He said our new customer service rep would be moving back to my office. Eventually the other people he was going to hire would work back there also. The plan called for my assistant to move back up to the front desk and for me to move to the counselor's office next to me. That counselor would move to another counselor's office up the hall. And that counselor would be moving somewhere extra temporary, just long enough until my boss found an him an office out of Oakland altogether. He said this counselor wasn't seeing enough clients in Oakland to warrant an office.

Since then, daily, my boss has been hounding me about setting up this move-- arrange for the phone lines to be changed and for the movers to come in and move us, arrange for the computers to be moved. Of course everyone I called wanted a date but my boss wouldn't give me a date until this week.... then he said he wanted it this week. The best I could do was to set it up for this coming Monday. I didn't get a confirmation from the movers and the phone people until late yesterday afternoon. I sent out emails to all the individuals involved.... telling them the much awaited moving date was set for Monday, that we needed to pack up our stuff, blah, blah, blah.

This morning I got to work and found out my boss had never bothered to tell any of the counselors about this plan, not even the ones who were being moved. They knew nothing, nada, zip.

I have to get out of there, honest to God I do. He's totally nuts. I'm crazy but he's certifiable; he's a lunatic; he's loony toons (and a prick to boot.) Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day trying to explain to everyone why we were all moving (like I know?) Meanwhile we were trying to have our going away party for the Director (tomorrow is her last day.) She's like the only sane one in the block and she's leaving. Someone said something about her being a rat deserting the proverbial sinking ship. Someone else said the rest of us were nothing but barnicles on the underside of the Titanic.

I don't want to talk about this anymore but it's like how in the hell am I going to ever find another job if I quit this one? And why do I think any other job would be different? Maybe it's not the jobs. Duh. Maybe it's me. Duh. Maybe it just takes me forever to understand the most simple things. Duh. Things like how I can't seem to handle even the most rudimentary functions of life.... work, love, play. But anyway life just goes around and around and around and around some more...

You don't want to waste your life now baby
You don't want to waste your life now darling
You don't want to waste your life now baby
Change, change, change

Maybe some day. Thanks for reading.

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Sunday - July 16, 2000 - afternoon

It's time to clean out this space and move stuff to old webjournal pages but I don't feel like doing it today. This particular time period is going to be hard-- it's too long and out of control, like a pot of overcooked spaghetti that is all one long piece of sticky pasta.

I've been having a not-too-great weekend (surprise, surprise.) No reason... it's me, my moods, my illness. I have no passion for anything. Feel like I'm just putting in time here, not waiting for something to happen but just putting in time. Don't really have any expectations of what will be except more of this banality. And I don't seem to give a shit about anything anymore. But I'm scared to admit that because it sounds like a challenge to the gods and we all know how angry they can become and what dire consequences can come of challenging them. So no, it's not a challenge. There is nothing wrong in my life... and actually quite a few very good things. I just seem to have lost the ability to appreciate blessings bestowed.

If you're afraid a typical self-suffering, whining entry is in store for today, you're right. It's probably best to bail out now before I whine you to death.

Art, music, nature, friends & lovers & relatives-- none seem to make much of an impact on my sense of emptiness, loss. Lauren was here most of yesterday and today. She was in a foul mood yesterday and I had no patience. Anymore I'm so quick to anger-- it seems everything agitates me to death. I snapped at her and Joe... I hid for awhile, sleeping. But no matter what I did-- take a walk, play with her, take mood altering drugs-- I was down and pissed off and wanted not to have to deal with anything, least of all a cranky kid. This in turn made me feel terribly guilty. Why should she have to come over here and see her grandmother in such a state of disarray? Grandmothers aren't supposed to be like that.

Growlf went to the groomer yesterday and has a new summer "do"; he looks very dapper and snazzy. He also appears to have shrunk by at least 30 pounds. Unbelievable that underneath all that fur, there's this normal dog body. If only I could go to the hairdresser and have her trim 30 pounds off me.

Got in a frenzy at work this week when my boss started picking on my assistant. She is a lovely person, sweet and helpful and kind where he is an ogre, a hideous troll hiding under the bridge trying to scare people to death. He was harping on her, blaming her for the asinine process we follow when handling disbursements to our affiliates. She and I are the first to admit the procedure stinks. It's time-consuming, maddening, ridiculously complicated. But it's what we were told to do by my predecessor and the accounts payable department. We've both tried to do things differently and it didn't work. We've only been working for the system six months so didn't feel particularly empowered to change things. Anyway, this jerk comes into our office and starts complaining about the procedure and more or less implies it's all my assistant's fault. He started saying shit like... "Why don't you use your head... I want people who aren't going to just do things by rote, people who are going to think." He fired off a number of no-win questions... why did we include this form, who designed that form, did she really think anybody ever took the time to read this crap, blah, blah, blah.

My assistant is very soft spoken, quiet and easily bruised. I could see her backing up and becoming scared. She knew that whatever she answered, it was going to be wrong and he'd just yell some more. (Which was true.) So I got pissed off and started telling him what I thought. I held back enough to not call him a dick-faced idiot bully but that's about it. He finally grabbed the forms back out of my assistant's hands and stormed out of the office vowing to get to the bottom of this, blah, blah, blah. There was total silence. She & I looked at each other and our eyes started rolling around in our heads like slot machines. I said I had to go have a cigarette. She said I should have two, one for her. I didn't tell her I needed a xanax immediately or I was gonna explode and she'd have to clean up billions of bits of jani sticking to the walls and our computer monitors and the printer and fax machine. But, honest to God, what an asshole. Oh, he's such a big man... the Vice President, able to scare a secretary. It's good that I don't own a gun. I would have killed him and then gladly blown my off own head that's how crazy he had me. Fucking frenzy.

And things here between Joe & I are just so strange. Me not caring, not feeling "in love" isn't a very good way to maintain a marriage. He's unbelievably understanding. We talked about it the other night and he said maybe it's because of the depression or maybe the depression is because of us. I don't know. I know it use to be so easy-- I could blame everything bad on my parents' illnesses and deaths. But that's not happening anymore so why do I still feel so dead myself? Marilyn says good things are coming. I can't agree. I don't see things ever improving. I feel so totally out of control. I can't take any more drugs. Gledi says shock treatments wouldn't help. The two therapists I've tried were useless-- the one more damaging than going it alone. It's just dark and I don't see it ever getting light again. Marilyn says no, she has to believe things will get better. If she really believed this was it, she wouldn't be able to stand it. She'd have to check out. (EXACTLY, MERLE, EXACTLY.)

But I can't end it because I really don't want to be screwing up anyone's life, Heather and Lauren and Marilyn especially. They are all dealing with their own problems; they really don't need me to lay that on them.... So I come back to there really isn't anything to be done. Just put time in.

I know this kind of shit isn't fun to hear. But all week long I have to pretend I'm okay, I'm functioning, I'm not coming apart at the seams. Sometimes I feel I just have to let it out and say what I really feel or, or, or (Or what? Go crazy? You have to admit, that's pretty damn funny.) I'm writing in circles here and unfortunately I'm not high or drunk. I'm endlessly confused.

Time to end this ranting and raving... Found out a friend's niece needs some prayers and good thoughts sent out to her. She's got mine whatever they're worth. Gotta go...until next time... Peace & Love...

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Go on be a hero, be a man
Make your own destiny if you can
Go find a fence
Locate a shell
And hide yourself, go on, go to hell

Go away from me
I need no charity

He said 'Come unto me
I am beauty, I am the light
Come unto me
Hold the darkness and stay the night
I am wonder, I am the heart's delight'

Janis Ian

It's July 14, Friday, 4:45PM. Big storm brewing-- outside my office window the sky is turning dark purple, looks like night. I'm waiting for Joe to call & say he's ready to leave.

Saw the weirdest thing the other day. A guy was walking past me, down the street. He was huge with a shaggy beard & hair. Resembled Ron Perlman's Beast character in the old tv show or Grizzly Adams. He was wearing rags, literally. His tee shirt was ripped and torn so much that I don't know how it remained on his body-- surely didn't cover any skin on his back. Walking beside him were two dogs, dobermans. The one looked purebred but the other was mixed. This latter one had icy white eyes. Sharp, silver white eyes. Eyes that could bore a hole through a steel bank vault. Had the strangest feeling that I wasn't looking at a man & his two dogs at all-- rather I was witnessing something that had just crawled up from Hell. A demon and hellhounds. I averted my eyes-- afraid if I looked at them for any length of time I'd be sucked down into a vortex. That maybe the next time the guy would surface, he'd have 3 dogs walking with him.

Think maybe it's time to go home... catch you later.

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July 13, Thursday, 4:51PM

I'm at work but technically I'm not-- quit getting paid 20 minutes ago so decided to write a quickie. Thank God it's Thursday. If it were only Monday, or even Tuesday or Wednesday, I'd have to shoot myself and put me out of my misery. (Been one of those weeks.)

I was writing in my real journal on the way to work this morning and it hit me again how much time and energy I waste on things that I don't give a flying f*ck about at all. Okay, I know I have to work because I need the money. But I don't have to care, expecially when it's so aggravating and exhausting and useless to do so. If I were doing something I cared about maybe it would be different. But I'm doing secretary shit and I'm sick to death of working overtime and worrying all the time and all that crap. It's a job. It's no more meaningful to me than scrubbing floors or picking corn out of my teeth. Yeah, I have to do it and I don't want to screw it up but I don't have to get so wrapped up in it that I have no other life.

Not sure if we'll be going to the country this weekend or not. We're watching Lauren Saturday (Heather has to work during the day and wants to go out that night.) That's cool though, haven't had much time to spend with her (Lauren) and I miss her to death. Again, kind of pisses me off. She means so much to me and is growing so fast but I so rarely get time to spend with her. At night we're always so tired-- usually have enough time to veg out, maybe eat, then crash. I'm reading this great Margaret Atwood book but I'm so sleepy, I keep reading the same page over & over & over again every night, just falling asleep in the middle of it. I might have to turn to the next page without finishing this one cause I'm sick of starting over every night!

Had some really sad news last week, my sister-in-law's mother died. She was a neat lady-- had gone back to school and finished her degree later in life, worked as a teacher in some very destitute areas, loved to travel, and she took to Joe the first time they met. I know how hard it must be for Jacobina. As Bill said, she didn't just lose a mother, she lost a friend. I felt like that also when Marphones died. Just to have one more day with her, doing things-- visiting antique shops, sit on her porch, watch the soaps with her-- I'd give anything.

PW sent me a clipping from the newpaper down there about a shark attack on a 12 year old girl in Corolla. Whoa. She was only 10 feet off shore-- that's not very deep... no it is not... It said in the paper it was the first time in 30 years that a shark had attacked there. Whoa.

I'm going home and not thinking about sharks or work or sharks at work or anything unpleasant like that at all. Have a good one. Thanks for reading.

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1st of July... how can this be? Time is going by faster and faster and faster... at this rate I'll only be able to write in here once every 3 years or something.

Our week in Corolla was fantastic... perfect weather, sunny, 90 degrees, perfect ocean. Lauren had a blast-- played with every kid on the beach. Of course we all wanted to stay forever but haven't hit the lottery (yet). Only bad part about our trip was PW & Jean couldn't come down to stay. PW's arthritis was acting up. We did stop there on our way down so at least we got to see them for a little while. Jean always has something delicious to eat prepared for when we come and this time was no exception.

When we got home from vacation, our petsitter had left me an account of Growlf & Sheba's week----

Sounds like a fun week.

Going back to work was a drag. I knew it would be but I didn't think it would be as bad as it was. One of our counselor's sister-in-law died after giving birth to her first baby. Another counselor's father died. Then just 2 days ago, the clinical director told me she was quitting. I can't blame her... my boss treats her horribly. She's second in command but you'd never know it by the way he's cut her out of all decision making. She's been there 10 years; he's been there 6 months-- who do you think knows more about the place? Anyway, I don't know what I'm going to do when she's gone. She is a lovely woman and so smart, fair and generous... I really count on her to make me feel all right. I think most of the staff feel the same way. On the other hand, my boss has a knack of making people feel like shit, totally worthless (& he wonders why people keep quitting!)

I guess I could stay until it's time to move (which from all indications won't be until September or so. We are moving to University Center, further out in Oakland.) But if I want to transfer into another department, I can't until I've been there a year (December 20th). The only exception is if my boss would sign off on transfer but that's highly unlikely.

One funny thing happened at work. A "required referral" form came in over the fax machine. One reason listed for why the employee has to come in for counseling was "Unexpected outbursts of professional behavior." Does this give you an idea of how the medical center is run? Can't have any of that professional behavior stuff going on. I thought this was hilarious. Ran around all afternoon yesterday telling people they better watch out... I might be going to have an unexpected outburst of professional behavior any minute now.

A couple of nice evenings the past two nights... met Debbie for dinner Thursday. Always neat. Merle had Joe and I over for dinner last night. Cooked some steak with onions and mushrooms and potato salad. Merle's a really good cook.

Joe & I are going to Majorsville for the next few days (don't know how I found the nerve to ask for Monday off but I did and my boss said okay-- he's just trying to make a liar out of me saying what a turd he is all the time.) Anyway, I'm looking forward to being in the country. We were there last weekend and it was so relaxing and nice. Took chairs down and sat in the creek. Watched the turkey buzzards and the heron and the hummingbirds. Guess I better go get ready for this time. Thanks for reading.

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3rd of June and if Billy Joe McCallister were here, he'd be jumping off the Tallahassee Bridge but he's not so we won't worry about it. Joe's shopping for tennis shoes and swim trunks, and groceries to take to Majorsville for tonight and tomorrow. I just finisheddoing some stupid work for stupid work. Put in 12 hours of overtime the last pay period and I'm still behind, but not as bad. Richard the Great, our new CSR started this week but had to go to orientation for 2 days & Monday was a holiday so he really on got 2 days on the job. I think he will be a tremendous help though, once he starts to feel comfortable. I also think he'll probably begin looking for another job once he realizes what his job really is-- glorified receptionist. He came from AT&T where he supervised 12 people. Oh well.

I had an emergency dentist appointment this week... last weekend at Majorsville one of my bottom back teeth cracked. Lost about 1/4 of it and it was already more than half filling. I don't know how he did it but Dr. Allison ('scuse me, pardon me) managed to fill it and it appears to be as good as new.

Surprisingly enough, despite everything, it wasn't a half bad week. Must be in for a fall if I'm starting to feel okay. VACATION is next weekend, maybe that has something to do with it. I'm so looking forward to getting away from all this crap, just being at one of my favorite places in the world with some of my favorite people and doing not much of anything. I was going to go out shopping for some stuff today too but other than tennis shoes, I really don't think I need anything. More often than not when I go to Corolla, I end up wearing nothing but my bathing suit and a couple of tee shirts and shorts the whole time. Even with my limited wardrobe, I think I can manage to find those. I usually like to get a couple books to read but it's been so damn long since I've been able to concentrate long enough to read anything longer than a Far Side cartoon-- what's the point. Besides, if I look around here, I've got about a gazillion books I've bought over the last few years (but never read)that I can take.

Merle got a new car, a 2000 Nissan Sentra, "Deja' Blue" colored, really, really nice. She came over and took us for a ride in it one evening this week. Afterwards she and I found some Asti Spumonte (sp?) in the fridge leftover from Christmas (but not opened). We opened it and made short work of it. Later, Joe cooked us some bacon & eggs for dinner. We all got glassy-eyed and had to pass out so she slept in one of our spare rooms.

My boss was out of town Thursday & Friday-- that really helped. He drove to Cleveland to dig up some affiliates now that he's secured a contract with Giant Eagle's stores there. Would have thought he maybe might have wanted to have the staff in place before he promised them EAP services but he has this way of doing things his own back-assed way. We're supposed to start servicing them July 1st, with our new Service Center, which doesn't exist yet and who's location has still not been decided on. To make things just a little more interesting, UPMC eliminated its Training & Development Department this week and are expecting our department to absorb many of the training needs for the hospital system. Yeah, I can offer some training-"How to Go Nuts in 10 Easy Steps".

Seriously though, most of the counselors where I work can do dynamite training sessions. Cindy, the Manager of External Accounts, was putting one together this past week entitled, "Learned Optimism". I asked her if she really believed in it, that optimism can be learned, and she said she did. I told her all it made me think of was the Intro to Psychology term "learned helplessness" used to describe a behavior like that which a dog has who has been chained up for so long that after you unchain him he doesn't even try to move beyond the chain's length-- he's been conditioned to feel totally helpless. But no, I never identify with that term.... Anyway, I asked Cindy if I could have one of the booklets she was putting. She laughed. She thought I was kidding.

And I get no answers
And I don't get no change
It's raining in Baltimore baby
But everything else is the same.

Wasn't that an uplifting interval? I think I'm overdue for a xanax. What started out as just my normal shaky leggy is starting to register perty dern high on the Richter Scale.

Talked to Jacobina and Bill this morning, by accident. I have 3 numbers programmed into my phone... 1. Heather, 2. Merle, and 3. Bill & Jacobina. I meant to call Merle. It was still fairly early-- 10 am or so. Anyway, Jacobina was very gracious about it. Said I didn't wake them or anything. She's having to deal with some heavy, heavy stuff right now. Her mom's not good at all; she's been in intensive care for the past week. All the relatives are visiting & staying with Jacobina & Bill. They think they're going to have to have her mom move in with them once she's released. The hardest of the hard. They are in my prayers.... On the other hand, Bill told me about babysitting Ellen the other day. First time he's been called upon to do that. Sounded like he did okay except for when he dunked her in the pool with her clothes on and couldn't figure out how to change her wet clothes! Hey, what are grandfathers for? I was glad I dialed them by mistake, don't get to talk to them enough. Never did get Merle.

Talked to Heather. She's been in a tanning booth for the past 6 weeks & is ridiculously tan... getting ready for the beach. Just because people will need their sunglasses when I get out there, the glare from my pasty white flesh blinding them, so what?? Do I care? And why doesn't she listen to me when I tell her tanning isn't good for you? Unless it's pretend tan, in a tube. Maybe I'll get real ambitious and slap on some before we go, maybe not.

Just found more work-- thought I was done but it turned out a bunch of pages had fallen on the floor underneath the desk. Shit. Anyway, I'd best get to it so we'll have some time left to go to the country. Have a good weekend. Thanks for reading. If I haven't said it in awhile, it's not because I don't feel it... love you.

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May 31, 2000 – Wednesday – 8:15pm

Man, I never get time to write in here anymore. It’s driving me nuts (like I wasn’t already nuttier than Mr. Peanut.) Heather & Lauren just left. Heather took her car to the garage and Joe followed to give her a ride back. Lauren stayed and played with me on the upstairs porch. We built some junk with dominoes and she read me a book and a bunch of knock-knock jokes. “Knock-knock” “Who’s there?” Wonder why kids like those so much? Anyway, it was cool seeing Lauren- I don’t get enough time to do that anymore either.

Ramblings from my real journal…

Friday, 5/12…. On our way to work All week I’ve wanted to write—about the bubble machine the man down the street built, about the really good looking guy I always want to flirt with at Sbarro but then I hear him talking to himself & making bizarre gestures in the air and realize he’s crazier than me, about my mother’s birthday 2 days ago, about working until 8 on Monday and 7 on Wednesday, about my tooth being okay. Dr. Allison says I don’t need crown (‘scuse me, pardon me.) About Joy, my wonderful new temp who called off sick yesterday… what is it about me and temps? About army-green trailers being pulled by army-green tractors and the trailers look like railroad cars. About having to schedule down time, time to lose it, crazy crying time when I lie in bed and never want to get up…. gotta wait for the weekends to flip out.

Saturday, 5/13, night… Dennis and Caitlyn are here & Lauren’s spending the night. I made minestrone soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids but Denny said Caitlyn didn’t like cheese or soup then Caitlyn ate three times as much as Lauren who loves cheese & soup. I’m not hungry-- I’m thirsty. I’ve been fighting off dehydration all day. This morning I got up and drank glass after glass of water—64 ounces. Slept most of today. Just starting to wake up now. Made & drank 2 pitchers of iced tea. Got Clannad playing on the stereo. Earlier I dreamed I was visiting a lover but he kept introducing me to his girlfriend. I wish this guy would get the fuck out of my head. I pray for it every night. Got drunk last night and it all came out. Merle had brought over a bottle of Merlot. Joe was working from home on the computer up on the 3rd floor. I just keep thinking if I could fill up my time and my head, I wouldn’t have time or energy or the brain power to lose it over and over again. .Time has a way of rushing by and eventually things maybe don’t heal but they hurt less or so I keep telling myself. I keep hoping. I keep hoping. What a waste, what a joke, what a drag. I act like the most stupid idiot sometimes, most of the time. I don’t want to have to accept all this. I’m so disappointed and appalled by me sometimes, most of the time. I feel like an oily decaying onion. I’m obsessive. I’m delusional especially when it comes to my own shortcomings. I’m like the hideous thing people hide in their basements.

Wednesday, not sure of the date, 5/17. I used to live at 517 East Chestnut Street. We’re on our way to get gas before going to work. I was late yesterday and may be late again today. Taste of fear in my mouth. Lost my composure (which we all know is a joke) at work yesterday. One too many complaints, one too many times. Made the mistake of asking my boss a question and he belittled and demeaned me. “You need to write it down”… how many times have I heard that one? I can’t tell him how hard it is to concentrate, how totally overwhelmed I am. I’m not up to this. I’m tired of pretending I am. I hate like hell to let everyone down, all those people at work, Joe, Heather, Lauren but letting people down has become my forte’. Place your trust in me and I’ll fuck up. I’m on the edge of a complete breakdown but I can’t because it’ll just screw things up even more. The boss found out I had a 30 year old daughter and he gnawed into it like it was a juicy steak bone and he a Doberman. “How old were you when you had her? Oh how scandalous that must have been.” Hey Lard Ass, having Heather was one of the few things I did right in this life so screw you. I’ve taken 2 xanax already this morning. Surely they’ll kick in soon. I don’t want to come undone now. My lover comes and goes, comes and goes. Easy come, easy go. Not-so-easy come, not-so-easy go. At work my six-month review is due. They would be so upset if I left. I’ve taken advantage of the educational benefits. But hey, I’ve also given 150%. If I quit, he can hire someone else, someone he wants. I was foisted on him. It might not have worked with anyone but it definitely isn’t working with him. The move to University Center is coming. The all-good, the answer, Richard, our soon-to-be customer service rep is coming. I can’t keep up at this pace. I’m running in a marathon but I’m on bloody hands and knees, crawling, slithering. The jig is up.

Lunch—alone—Joe had a 1:00 meeting. Eating Tomato Florentine Soup. Pretty tasty. Pamela’s has the best soup of any place I’ve ever eaten…. the Wedding soup is to die for, as is the Bacon Potato. Glad to get away. Very busy today. Lots of people calling asking about money we owe them. The Accounts Payable department stinks. I’m on my 4th xanax. Have to go see Gledi tonight. What can I say to him that hasn’t been said. Careful, careful… you don’t want the men in the white coats to come, do you? Hey why not, if it would help. But I’m using up all my time off, sick time included to take my vacation in June so better not do that now. It’s time to face up to some facts. If I can just remember a couple of things, I think I might be able to handle it… 1. I don’t have to know what it meant or what it didn’t or why or why not. That takes a brick-load of weight off my shoulders already. 2. I don’t need to feel stupid or guilty. I can’t undo what’s been done. I can only go on from here accepting there is no resolution. No blame-- no shame, easy-- breezy. It doesn’t mean a rat’s ass anyway. This was not a reflection of me or my worth. Who’s to say I didn’t dream the whole thing anyway…. a big ol’ nightmare. It’s all right. I can’t prove anything but I don’t have to prove anything. It’s not my loss. I spend way too much time trying to understand that which can not be understood , trying to control the uncontrollable. It leaves me exhausted. The time I could use to do things, I use worrying about things I’ve done or might do. Talk about obsessive/compulsive. I need time to regroup, to listen to music, to write, to enjoy my family, my home, Majorsville—all those things I’ve been neglecting, the really important things.

5/18… Got my head shrunk, a less than satisfying session. Gledi said shock treatments wouldn’t help me unless I’m suicidal (like I’m not?) He wants me to see another therapist. You’ve got to be kidding me. He said this guy was exactly what I need, a real “kick-ass” therapist. He kicked my car when he said that. He followed Joe out after his session to talk a little more to me. I was sitting in the car, smoking my brains out, listening to C.Crows REAL LOUD. He came up to the driver’s window and scared me. I threw my hand up in the air, brushing his silk tie with my cigarette. I tried to knock the ashes off but he said it didn’t matter because in a few minutes he’d be dropping ashes on it himself. I said I thought he had quit (smoking.) He said he had, for five years, but he started again 8 months ago, “when things got weird” in his life and he had to start hustling for a living. Gee he was probably a day late on his Mercedes payment. Baumhammers—3 psychiatrists say he’s not able to go to trial, he’s paranoid and delusional. Hey, aren’t we all? Doesn’t mean we go out and blow away 5 innocent people. Back to Gledi… he said he didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell after life but rather they exist here on earth and that old people in nursing homes were living in Hell. Hell? Hello?? Where has this guy been for the past ten years. Isn’t this what I’ve been telling him?? He said he thought we should all make a pact. He stopped himself before he said “suicide”, guess he remembered who he was talking to, so instead he said a homicide pact. A homicide pact? What the hell is this guy talking about? Isn’t that what Baumhammers did? Marilyn tells me she’s becoming obsessed with her personal trainer. Who didn’t know that? I didn’t bother to point out how devastating that can be—she knows or she should.

5/19…Raining, everything is gray except the red tail lights in front of us. On our way to work again. I’ve been praying for weeks now that my office won’t be moved to University Center. Then yesterday, in the staff meeting, I found out what Plan B was, if moving to U.Cntr. doesn’t work… he wants us to move to Church Hill or RIDC Park. I don’t think so. Either would add another hour or more to my commute. Figures, I’ve been praying and praying and now I find out I’ve been praying for the wrong thing, not being specific enough. Story of my life. It’s Friday but not a very promising one. Have to go to Kinko’s and get those stupid substance abuse cards printed up. Lorraine says I should pay for it myself then get reimbursed from petty cash (from the cashier up in Presby). Think I’ll just charge it and turn in a travel & business expense report instead. Don’t feel like traipsing all over in this weather. God this weather sucks. Can’t see more that 3 cars in front of us. Just passed a 50’s black Ford Fairlane… fins, white wall tires, lots of chrome, a beauty. Didn’t have antique plates though. Wonder if the guy driving maybe started out driving in 1956 or something? Maybe he lost his way, he would have been traveling on Route 19 then because there wasn’t any Interstate. So maybe an hour or so into his drive, he crosses over the Twilight Zone and he’s on Interstate 79 and it’s the year 2000. Must be very disorienting for him. His car hasn’t aged so I guess he hasn’t either. But his wife and family have. His parents are dead now, his kids grown, his wife in a nursing home. Might be enough to drive him mad (no pun intended.) Maybe it was his daughter’s birthday when he started out and he’s got a present for her in the car with him, a Tiny Tears doll.

5/20… Saturday, 7:27 AM… A new guy has been showing up in my dreams lately, more and more. This is bad but maybe this is good because it means my lover is in them less.

“Amy hit the atmosphere
Caught herself a rocket ride out of this gutter
And she’s never coming back I fear
Only thing she said is she feels a lot better
And that’s all that really matters to me.

I dreamed of this other guy. I was having an affair with him. His wife asked me the secret to a long marriage. I told her never to trust her husband or let down her guard. God, is that how I really feel? I wrote something in Jenny Klick’s bridal shower book about never forgetting to laugh together. So Jani Black/Jani White surfaces… never trust him or let down your guard & don’t forget to laugh a lot. The whole ballgame. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. The whole schlemiel….. Linda, a woman I work with, laughs hysterically. Sometimes it sounds like she’s crying. She dances up and down the hall, twirling on tippy-toes. She’s 50 but her body moves like that of a lanky 12 year old tomboy. Coltish—her movements are coltish. She is always joking but underneath there is a depth to her, a wealth of knowledge, a wisdom. If I could choose a counselor to talk to, it would be her. Linda and this guy at work couldn’t be more different from each other if they were the sun and the moon. But they are close friends. Yin and Yang. I’m drawn to both of them…. The other life, my non-work life is mostly sleeping & driving & freaking. It’s the “real” me but it only occupies a teeny tiny segment of my waking hours. It’s much harder to deal with as compared to work. At work I perform this way and I’ll be treated that way… just need to learn the ground rules. Some change from job to job but many remain the same: always laught at the boss’s jokes, understand where you fit in (usually at the bottom of the heap) and accept it, figure out your boundaries and stay within them. Real life doesn’t matter. All that matters is playing by the rules. It’s much more defined, black & white, wrong & right. In my position I don’t make the rules, I can only follow them in my own way. The rules are much easier to discern at work as opposed to those in my “real” life. In my job there’s never much time for creativity… it’s get the task done, fast and dirty and go on to the next task. I might be better off if I approached “real” life the same way but something is always sneaking up on me, blindsiding me. This can happen on the job also but it’s easier to handle, easier to put into perspective. I’m not that silly old job. So why do I let it eat me alive? At the end of the day & the end of the week, I can do or say whatever I want. Work, even when it’s bad, is a finite time, a finite hell, thank God. In “real” life, having slipped into this deep abyss years and years ago, I don’t see an end. Besides this episode, Gledi reminded me, I told him of a depression I suffered years ago, when I was in my 20’s, living in Hickory PA, a year and a half of going friggin’ nuts. But let us not forget me losing it when I was in my teens and my marriage to John wasn’t working, or how about the year when I was in 7th grade—that has to have been the first time I was depressed. So if you add them all together, it’s something like a third of my life. God, that’s a long time to have lost to this abyss….. It’s 8:19 am & I’ve pulled out the Saint. It’s too early to start this shit but luckily, I don’t have much in the bottle. Enough for maybe 2 more cups of coffee. Hair of the dog that I ran over last night, driving that semi at 90 miles per hour. Making puppy pate’ all over the Parkway. Were it really to have occurred that dog’s hair would be a little more than messed up, all matted and splattered with blood & guts…. Heather’s enrolled Lauren in the Washington Park School for next year. I can’t argue considering that psychotic 1st grade teacher she’s had to endure at the Catholic school. Lauren was here the other night and I found 2 pictures in her bookbag. One was a drawing of a smiling, gentle, long-haired, robed and sandaled man. Four crosses surrounded him, at his head, feet, and at either arm. “Jesus”, Lauren told me although I could have guessed. The other picture was a drawing of flowers and the sun and butterflies. At the top, Lauren had written, “To Miss Paletta”—still trying to gain that bitch’s approval after all this time. Made me want to cry. Made me want to wring that bitch’s neck. But Washington Park School is so big and my experience working there & watching Heather have such a difficult time herself in that grade school… the effects can be devastating. Lots of people swear by it, Annabelle. But the small Catholic schools seem so much safer. Plus I hate to see Lauren’s fascination with religion be stymied. She was profoundly moved by participating in the Stations of the Cross during Lent. At least it was providing her with some foundation on which to build, a belief system, a faith… something Heather never had and something for which I will always feel guilty. I didn’t want to force a religion on her—wanted her to choose for herself that which gave her comfort and support. Instead I provided her with nothing, nothing to believe in, nothing to compare other religions against, nothing to rebel, just a void and she doesn’t even realize she’s missing anything. But then hey, how much comfort and security does my belief system provide for me? I certainly despise certain Catholic teachings… their stance against abortion. The Catholic Church played no part in any significant events in my life—Heather’s or Lauren’s birth, my marriages, my divorce, the death of my parents. But sometimes when I’m reaching the bottom, I see Christ hanging on the cross, bloodied palms, his strong shoulders slumping from the weight of his own body. And in this revolting visualization I find comfort. How very bizarre. So, would Lauren benefit from the Catholic experience? Who knows? I guess I just loved her picture of that smiling, gentle man in sandals and a robe, happy, protective, innocent, trustworthy. The answer to all. The fulfillment of the cavernous abyss… truth & beauty & light a certainty that all is all right. Even when some fucking sociopath 1st grade teacher tells her she’s bad. Even then Lauren feels no real animosity towards this monster. She just wants her to like her. Don’t we all want this? … Gledi asked me how the money was in this stupid job where I serve as the doormat upon which my boss can wipe the shit from his shoes. I say I never see the money. I wasn’t being poetic. The money gets directly deposited into our joint account and Joe pays the bills and sometimes he asks me if I need a couple of bucks for lunch or whatever. Sometimes I buy clothes and the money gets electronically transferred out of our account. I always apologize. If we meet & go out to lunch or dinner, I always thank him. I thank men who’ve allowed me to make love to them. It’s not a put on. I feel thankful, blessed. Someone could actually get past all my imperfections and idiosyncrasies and actually allow me to display adoration. It’s a rare and precious experience. But guess what effect this has on men….of course, it’s a total turn-off. “God, she must be right, making love to her is an act of charity for which she should be thankful.” I see my daughter and her daughter displaying this same sense of gratitude when someone shows them the leasat little bit of interest. Let me love you more, I don’t mean to suffocate you. Sometimes I hate men.

5/22 Monday… It’s 3:20 pm and I’m just having lunch. About ready to scream bloody murder. Work is nuts. Haven’t had time to breathe and my assistant, Karen, called off, sick. We went to Jenny’s wedding Saturday night. Nice, short ceremony. Jenny was beautiful as was Kathy and Ruth. At the reception I told Heather about the plan Marilyn and Joe and I have, that when we get old & decide it’s time, we’re going to go together. I didn’t get to tell her any of the details, like how we’re going to listen to Smokey Robinson and Marvin Gaye and groove while it’s happening. She totally freaked out before I had a chance. Nice going Jan. She cried during the ceremony…. so did Merle. I never cry when it’s expected or appropriate. We came home and I tried writing on my web page but kept getting kicked off because I kept passing out and getting logged off the network! Dreamed this morning I caught Joe touching a woman I know, erotically. I got so angry at him… tried to cut his face with my fingernails. So disturbing. God, I don’t ever want to hurt him, do I? Then I started thinking about my lover and wondering, did I do this just to hurt Joe? Because I don’t think he shows me enough affection. And if this is true, how truly fucked up I am—worse than I thought.

We have begun to change
Into the worst kind of people
So unkind

But I don’t think that’s what is really happening… I can’t be that bad. Anyway, I don’t have time to worry about that right now… better to worry tomorrow, at Tara. Gotta get back to work now so Joy can leave on time.

Tuesday, not afternoon…. Storms a brewin’ Visited Patty & Bob last night. They’re bound for Va. Beach tomorrow. Patty looked good and they had wine and veges and dip. Paul stopped in with two packages of Asian noodles for Patty from Marie. Patty said Lee is working as an aide with autistic children. God she’s a saint. Hope Karen’s back at work today. I was lost without her yesterday. If she quits, I’m up shit creek. Hope she wasn’t really out looking for another job yesterday but I couldn’t blame her if she was.

Wednesday, 2:30 pm…. late lunch again at Pamela’s. I can get delicious soup & crackers & a large diet coke for less than a piece of lukewarm rubbery pizza at Sbarro’s. And this place is clean and the people are nice. Joe’s been at a class Monday & today, will be for the rest of the week. I’ve been driving myself in and eating alone. My boss has been gone this afternoon and it’s been good but of course, he showed up just as I was leaving….not that I didn’t think he might when I planned this late meal… buying myself another boss free hour! Marilyn left me a message on my answering machine last night, maybe 10 minutes before I got home from work. I called her back but she didn’t answer. If this isn’t the best potato soup I’ve ever eaten, I don’t know what is. Merle would love it. Karen’s off again this afternoon… for her daughter’s band concert. Jackie and I started to do Karen’s review today. I’ve got to start working on my own… my boss gave me the self-evaluation part a couple of weeks ago. I had some stuff written down I wanted to say but I’ve lost the paper I wrote on. I can’t wait until my vacation. I deserve some time off. I just want to write and sleep and drink and listen to music and walk on the beach and swim in the ocean and sit in the hot tub…. yes. I want to go to Majorsville this weekend… Memorial Day… three days off. Joe seems to think we can go Friday night but Growlf has an appointment at the vet on Saturday so I don’t think that will work. We’ll have to spend most of our time cleaning down there but who cares.

Thursday… Pamela’s again… Quarter after 2:00… Days from hell, temps from hell, job from hell. At least it’s all consistent. But wait, stop it. My family is healthy and loving and wonderful. And I’ve got Majorsville to go to. And Growlf & Sheba are angels. God don’t let me forget, I have to go down to the Iroquois building and pick up our paychecks today. I’ll write a bit about my surroundings… I’m sitting at a tiny table in the back… “R1” it says on the wall, I guess for the waitress’s reference. I’ve got chrome topped, glass salt & pepper shakers and a little glass dish, oblong, shallow, holding sugar & Sweet & Low packets. This place has a western motif. Farm implements hanging on the walls, a saddle, a wooden rooster, a metal tractor seat, brass molds for jello. Wagon wheel light fixtures hang from the ceiling. Lots of people in here for so late in the afternoon. Even kids & babies. Hardly ever see kids or babies here. Mostly college kids or business people on their lunch breaks. Tall cacti in the front windows, look out on Forbes Avenue. I’ve got time for 1 more cigi… should I or shouldn’t I, that is the question. Family guy up front keeps getting phone calls on his cell phone. He asks the waitress the address. She tells him 300 something Forbes. He asks, “Did you say Fourth Avenue?” Obviously not from Pittsburgh.

Friday… My boss’s 9th anniversary. He left to take his wife out to lunch & won’t be back. Yeah!!! Hip, hip, hooray!!! Why is it though, when I have some extra time finally, I fuck-off instead. I could have done so much more today. I know I wasted at least an hour looking at the internet, reading email from Peggy and writing back. Well that part wasn’t a waste. Wedding soup today. Good, too good but hot. I should have finished smoking my cigarette and given the soup time to cool off a bit. Kevin, my old database buddy, is in Oakland this afternoon. He’s going to help me clean out the database. Cliff, one of the counselors mistakenly put a bunch of cases in that should have been just consults, not cases. Kevin and I get along fine these days. Sure took some ass-kissing on my part but it’s paid off. Life is so much easier now that he considers me a friend. He hates my boss almost as much as I do… something in common. God, the boy sitting at the table across from me is really shoveling it out today. He’s telling his lunch companions that he had “lines of women” wanting to go out with him… uh huh. He’s not bad looking and has an extensive vocabulary but what a LOSER. No sense of humor about himself. I wonder if his companions really like him or are just tolerating him, waiting for him to leave to make fun of him? The 2 xanax I took don’t seem to be kicking in as fast as they should. Or maybe it’s just me. (Duh—how insightful, what a revelation. “You say you want a revelation, well you know, it’s only in my head.” It’s only the clothes I’m wearing this time around, I’m scared and depressed, anxious, toxic… but it’s not ME. Yeah, like the oak tree isn’t its bark & limbs & leaves. Essence of oak tree. Essence of Jani. My brain feels like it’s made of wood, not oak, maybe wormwood. Don’t even know what that is but it sounds like my brain feels.

Saturday—Memorial Day Weekend. 11:19 am. Joe took Growlf to the vet for a checkup and to get his shots. Rainy day. I’m taking my splint off so I can bend my finger to write. Trying not to get ink all over it. I'm forever getting ink or tomato sauce or something on this splint. I know my finger will never be the same. Nothing stays the same. But if I don’t wear the splint at night then my finger curls up and aches. Growlf & Joe are back, to the tune of $180. God, I’m glad there wasn’t anything wrong. I’m listening to Sade… Smooth Operator. Joe woke up with a backache. Probably shouldn’t be going to the country. Probably shouldn’t have taken Growlf to the vet. All the comics today have Peanuts in them. Must be Chas Shultz’s birthday or something. A 13 year old kid in Floriday fatally shot his teacher in the face on the last day of school. The kid made all A’s and B’s and had perfect attendance.

Sunday… Majorsville. Woke up this morning to a gentle hushed rain falling on the leaves in the woods. What have I been thinking? I should have been coming down here every chance I got. When we got here yesterday, the creek was really high and clear. This morning when I came down to let Growlf out I spied the Great Blue Heron down in the creek (crick, as we say here.) He was walking on these incredibly skinny legs across the pipes submerged under the water just enough to create a waterfall effect. I’m listening to Porgy & Bess on the stereo. “Yes a woman is a sometimes thing.” Man it sounds good. The grass here has gone back to being a meadow. It’s been a month since Joe’s mowed. Longer than that since I’ve been here. I’m always scared to come down after I haven’t come for awhile. Where does that come from? Maybe a leftover fear from the fire that burned down the old house. Always felt if I had just come down to Majorsville the weekend before the fire, maybe I could’ve prevented it. Why didn’t I come down. Why did I choose to go to Mingo Park instead? It was such a nice spring weekend. I’ll maybe never forgive myself for making that choice. I remember the phone call, “Majorsville is gone.” It was inconceivable to me. It had been here for so long, since I was 6. So long… it was only 10 years between when we bought it and when it burnt but it seemed like a lifetime. This house has been here over 25 years but it will always be the “new” house. I have 10 by 13 glossy pictures hanging on the wall, one of the old house and one of the new. They share the wall with Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. This Majorsville, the one Joe and I own is so totally different from that Majorsville, the Majorsville of my youth… the innertube races, the volleyball games, the horses rolling in dandelions, drunk on beer from a keg. For Joe and I Majorsville is a hideaway, a place we’ve chosen to share with very few. My dad’s Majorsville was like the verse on the map he drew “Of those who pass through these gates, none come too early, none stay too late.” Always a party. Of course that’s how my dad felt about his life. He was so gregarious. Wanted to be friends with everyone. Wanted everyone to have a good time when he entertained which was all the time. Now Majorsville is more like the Lake Isle of Innisfree, private, quiet, like Walden Pond. A large chunk of one of my teeth broke off this morning. No fun. The enamel is gone on a quarter of the tooth—it’s all exposed and has ragged edges that feel like they might cut my tongue if I’m not careful. I picked a bouquet of wild phlox for our table. I’ve missed so much not coming down until now… the forsythia, the daffodils, the blue-eyed marys. I filled up the hummingbird feeder but I fear they’ve left. I missed their arrival & they waited and waited and waited for me to come but I didn’t so they moved on to Alley’s Grove or Burnsville.

Monday – Memorial Day… I wore my Jonah boots down. They are wonderful, keep my feet war and dry while I’m out tromping around in the wet grass. They’re heavy, take some getting used to lifting that extra weight each time I take a step. It’s early. Just turned seven…. Later, 4pm. Here’s a letter to you. Why don’t you get the fuck out of my head? I’m so sick of you in there. You treated me like shit so why am I still thinking about you? God it makes me mad. Why don’t I hate you? You’re such a hypocrite, such a jerk, a loser. Like a beautiful red apple, all shiny on the outside but inside full of disgusting worms. I was the one being kind. I didn’t need you to screw with my head. I already do that fine by myself. I use a BB gun. You use a 38 special. Just blew away any self-respect I may have had left. Did humiliating me make you feel special? If you had a long sharp knife and cut me, it wouldn’t hurt any more than what you said. You played with my heart, juggling in your hands, then dropped it and stomped down hard with jack boots, smashing it to smithereens. Never an apology. Never looked back. Just destroyed me.

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