Web Journal

Thursday - October 14, 1999 - 8:08 AM EDT

Chilly today (highs only in the 50's.) It's supposed to warm up to the 70's by the weekend. Good, I think we have to go to Majorsville Saturday. I know I need to get away. And October is usually one of the most beautiful times of the year down there.

Reflections in the Creek

(Viewpoint is sitting on the bank looking "up" the creek, at the spot where the beavers swim. The two white/light gray lines are pipes. Photo was actually taken in September but you get the idea.)

I had a nice lunch with my friends Tuesday. I was so late. Didn't get out of here until 12:10 (we were supposed to meet at 11:30.) Only true friends would wait that long. I miss seeing and working with them. Had a chance to catch up on all the doings at the old job… always fun. Heard one horrible story-another friend from there has cancer. This is so strange… she's the third woman who worked there who contracted cancer (not including skin cancers like mine.) What are the odds of that? There are only 12-14 people working there. I'd think it was too much of a coincidence but each had cancer in a different location in her body, as well as each was working in a different building when they were diagnosed. (They move their offices often.) None of them smoked. It has to be a stress thing doesn't it? I don't know.

I picked up Lauren from school yesterday. Took her down to the library where she went nuts… always want to take out every book she sees. Luckily, they have a ten book limit otherwise her back would be breaking from carrying them all. Afterwards we stopped at a playground. Somehow or other she talked me into sliding on the sliding board (what a rush.) Also swung on the swings and climbed the monkey bars. I should do that everyday, great exercise. We're going to watch Lauren Friday night, Saturday morning. Heather got a promotion at work this week and has been working overtime to learn the ins and outs of the new position. By the way::

CONGRATULATIONS HEATHER!!

My therapist called the other night. I was talking on the other line so had a great excuse not to get into it. Told her I'd get back to her but I waited until I was fairly certain she had left her office before I called back. I'm rotten and this sneaking around is ridiculous but oh well. All I can say is thank god for answering machines and thank god double I never gave her my cell phone number. Only four people know it-- who else needs to know how to reach me anytime?

Our local school district is going down the tubes financially. Everybody knew it had been having problems the past few years but no one knew how bad it was until recently. This summer the board hired a new business manager and superintendent and subsequently had the books audited. I could have predicted what they'd find. I went so many rounds with the old b.m., felt like I'd been in the ring with Mike Tyson. To say his accounting methods were bizarre is an understatement. Typically I'd have to tell him how much money our program had at any given time… he couldn't seem to keep track of it. And it was standard procedure for my bosses to buy a ton of supplies (not necessarily even needed) then have me or the other secretary fill out the requisition forms afterwards. I hope he is going to be held responsible but I'm not holding my breath.

Joe's friend Denny came over Tuesday night. He needed me to update his resume. Guess there's an opening for a food service manager at a local nursing home. (He works in Waynesburg now.) Afterwards, we went out to dinner and he told us he grew white pumpkins this year. I didn't even know there were such things. He said he would bring us one, along with some tomatoes. Since I never take the time to garden anymore, getting fresh produce sounds divine.

We don't even use the apples or seckle pears from trees in our backyard. Everybody says, "You should be making pies" when they see the apples all over the yard. They don't know how funny that is… me… baking a pie… maybe when pigs fly. My uncle came over to get pears a couple weeks ago. Unfortunately, our tree has grown so tall you can't reach the branches and the fruit on the ground had been chewed up by the squirrels and/or the lawnmower. I used to love to garden and longed for fruit trees, vines, herbs and flowers. For awhile there, I was even thinking about taking up horticulture as a profession. Then I got lazy and each year my garden got smaller and produced less. Then around ten years ago, I just gave up for good.

It's so weird how time, problems, exhaustion and apathy can just quietly eat away at everything you've worked for. You might just think you'll stop for a little bit but the next thing you know, you've lost it altogether. And with all the shit going on in the world and in your life: financial problems, illnesses, stress and mental anguish hitting you from every side, over and over and over again, pretty soon you don't even care. It's too hard to care. Is it any wonder you finally just give in and give up? It's times like that when I just want to sleep. Or, on occasion, get in the car and blast the stereo and drive nowhere in particular for maybe the rest of my life. I know neither of these options fixes anything but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.

Well, that's not a very pleasant way to end this, is it? How about this instead.... (see ya later.)

[Old Journal Entries] [Home Page]

Tuesday - October 12, 1999 - 10:16AM EDT

I can't "lollygag" this morning (used to be one of my mom's favorite words.) I'm meeting some friends for lunch early, 11:30, so this entry better be fast. Did manage to get out of my therapist's appointment (it was supposed to be at 11:00). I left her a message canceling, and said I'd call her back later this week when I wanted to reschedule. Not a lie... I just might never want to reschedule. And why do I have to worry about hurting her feelings anyway? Too strange. Just hate it when I'm not pleasing everyone which, of course, is all of the time. I am trying to change my thoughts regarding being crazy. It's okay to be crazy. Many of the people I most admire are/were crazy. I've know this all along, it's just taken me awhile to remember.

Worried a little about this computer crashing. It seems to be having more than its share of problems lately. And if it goes completely, then I'm going to lose an awful lot of stuff that I don't want to lose. Been ignoring the first law of computing..... "back-up, back-up, back-up." Guess I'd better go out and by a gross of floppy disks and start copying things. It'd give me an excuse to clean up a bit on the hard drive. Lord knows, that might help all by itself!

This is the REAL Columbus Day. They can't fool me with those stupid Monday holiday imposters. Not that it matters-- not like I was going to go out and celebrate, although, come to think of it, maybe that's not such a bad idea. We should all take more time to celebrate, right?? I do have a nice big bottle of Saint Brendan's... maybe tonight I'll toast him and Columbus?!

Gorgeous fall day out there today. I hate the days getting shorter (...the days dwindle down to a precious few...) but you can't beat the leaves changing colors and the clear, crisp air, and all that rot. Maybe I'll go for a ride after my lunch and check out the country. "Are your ready for the county, because it's time to go..." (Neil Young). Speaking of country, we didn't make it down to Majorsville this past weekend. Have to do a trip down there soon, put up more fences around trees. The beavs. have been bad boys... when we were there last, they had eaten almost all of the lilac bush and part of the big maple in the front yard. We didn't have any more fences to put around things so we wrapped them in heavy duty aluminum foil. Will that help? Beats me but it was worth a try. Joe said it would really help if the beaver's had fillings in their teeth (ha, ha.)

Good thing I didn't care too much about the job I interviewed for. Never heard a word... gee, just when I thought I was on a roll. I was complaining to Merle the other night and she reminded me I didn't even want the position. She said, "You just want them to want you." How true. It's like having an old lover that you've gotten rid of... you don't want them anymore but you sure as hell don't want them to want someone else!

Had this bizarre dream the other night. It was so involved that even I couldn't follow it! I was dreaming how I was telling some people about a dream I had about dreaming. But that wasn't the bizarre part... I'm not going to bore you with the whole thing (plus, I can't remember the whole thing) but here are some highlights (or lowlights, in some cases), not necessarily in the order of their appearance...

I was riding elevators up and down in the Trust Building here in "little Washington". (God, how I hate that phrase.) The George Washington Hotel, the Union Grill, and Stack's Cafeteria fit in somewhere also. I was going upstairs and downstairs in the old department stores that used to be in town, Cox's Caldwells and Penney's (don't think they called it JC Penney then, just Penney's.) I had to use the restroom in one of the stores and while I was in there, noticed that the stall next to the one I was in was empty, but locked. Thought that was a little odd so I told the security guard. He and some other police ended up breaking into the stall, and in the toilet, underneath tons of toilet paper, they found a woman's severed head and a baby (hers we assumed.) The baby was still alive!

I dreamed about my relatives: the Klicks, the Hoppers, the Richmonds... sometimes we were kids again-- other times, we were adults. I dreamed Joe and I were sleeping in this sub-basement, down maybe 3 levels, at the old house at Majorsville. There were no other floors below us but I was laying on the concrete floor, listening to sounds beneath us. I dreamed I was on the West Coast, dining out in a pretty nice restaurant. Afterwards, I sat on the sand and watched the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. It was then I remembered, early that morning, before breakfast, I had been sitting in the sand watching the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. (Way Cool!)

I dreamed some involved dream about visiting the Hoppers and a neighbor lady was looking for her pruning shears. Marilyn was outside, mulching the shrubbery in front of the house in a fancy scallop shape. Jean was cooking meatballs and turkey-- a and big holiday meal. Pat Klick had to go to the grocery store, on foot, pushing a grocery cart. (The Klicks used to have a grocery cart in their basement when I was little.) Once she got to the store, she phoned me on her cell phone and said she was having trouble finding the shampoo and conditioner she was looking for. I went down to the basement to look for the neighbor's pruning shears. Didn't find them but did find David Hopper's apartment down there. He left to go to a street fair. Patty Hopper was really skinny-- I was dying to know her secret. PW was talking philosophically about death. I remember telling my dad and some other people about a dream I had that lasted 30 years.

I dreamed we were hiking up to the big damn at Majorsville. And I dreamed I visited a boarding school in the Oakland section of Pittsburgh. I dreamed about a party at my aunt Virginia's house and Heather or Lauren (always confusing the two of them in my dreams) was little, walking around bumping into expensive breakable things.

What does it all mean? Does anyone care? I'm out of cigarettes, just lit the last one, on its filter. Man does that stink. I better go get ready for my lunch out. I'm late already. I leave you with some wonderful thoughts from Dylan.

To dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled round the circus sand
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the weight
Let me forget about today until tomorrow...

Sweet dreams.

[Old Journal Entries] [Home Page]

Thursday - October 7, 1999 - 11:06AM EDT

Listening to Dave Mason's "Waiting on You". Think Bonnie and Delaney sang backup on this song (whoever they are.) But I can't check because this is one of those stupid "Very Best Of" CD's that has absolutely no liner notes whatsoever. What a ripoff. Oh well, whatever, that song's over.... now we're on to "You're feeling alright, I'm not feeling too good myself." This could go on all day, me listening and telling you what's playing but why would we do that?

The 3 Stooges go visit their psychiatrist today. My new mantra is "MO" "MO" "MO".... Always did get things back asswards, or is it ass backwards? I'm probably summoning the forces of darkness, or at least the forces of idiocy. It's one of those kind of days. I have time to get something meaningful, or at least practical, done before the appointed time but have no desire to use said time in said way. More fun doing this.

In case you're wondering, we've moved on to Bruce Springsteen-- "Blinded by the Light" right at the moment. I love Bruce. I hate the way Bob Seger mangled and disgraced his songs. Some people should shut up before they ever open their mouths. And while we're at it, John-kitty-cat-face-Cougar-water-Melon-cantaloupe-Camp murdering Van Morrison's "Wild Nights" is a travesty. (I'm not opinionated, not at all.) Anyway, back to what we were talking about... what was that? Oh yeah, nothing. Ought to be easy enough to remember.

"Momma always told me not to look into the sights of the sun.
Oh, but Momma, that's where the fun is."

I've already had my big angst, freak-out, want-to-crawl-into-the-hole-and-disappear time this morning. Get it over with early, then maybe I can get through the rest of the day without looking for the rusty razor blades. ("Yeah, and I walk on water every chance I get..." C.Crows)

My interview went alright. The job sounded a little more tedious than I had hoped, as if you'd spend most of your time on the phone explaining how to hook up their internet software. Not exactly what I was looking for but then what is? They do pay for employment-related computer courses through some outfit located down at Southpointe... free education, always a big temptation. The pay is nearly 1/2 what I was making in my last job. That might be hard to justify especially since they don't dress casually. Thought for sure they would (they don't ever see any of their customers.) Anyway, I'd have to be spending money there-- I have 3 suits, a couple dresses and a few skirts with tops. Guess I could get away with what I have, for awhile anyway. And there's the expense of commuting. It's not that far, Donaldson's Crossroads, and they do have free parking.

But I'm getting ahead of myself (just a little.) It's not like they offered me the job on the spot (the bums.) I came home and had to figure out what I wanted to say in my follow-up letter... do I really want this or not? Ended up writing some bullshit-- a non-committal but leaving the door open kind of letter. Stupid. It's not like they're going to come up with an offer of more money. I can't even predict if they'll call me. Interviewed with the director (a woman) and the coordinator (a man)... couldn't read them very well, especially the man. One strange thing.... if I got offered and accepted the job, all of the support staff are (for the most part, young) men. Dang, what will I do all day? And, as Marilyn pointed out, maybe they have a quota to fill, with minorities and women? Did talk to a couple of the guys when I was leaving; they were outside taking a smoke break. I was elated. Knew there was no way they'd let you smoke on the job, NO ONE does that anymore. But I was concerned whether or not they'd accept my need to take a smoke break. At my other jobs, very few or no other people smoked. Always felt like "UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN". Had to apologize to get a break, and then when I'd get one, had to suck that smoke down so fast it was hardly worth it. Awe gee, the drag of being a smoker.

Drinking the last cup of coffee this morning, 7th cigarette of the day burning away in the overflowing ashtray, pills spilled on the counter in front of me.... 4 yellow & green Prozac, 2 Cyclops-smiley-faced Welbutrins, and the ever present Xanax, I felt like Roy Schreider in All That Jazz.... "It's Showtime!" Or as Yes put it, "I get up, I get down." All day is like this, trying to get normal, not too scared or too down or too tired or too wired but then realizing that I'm never going to be normal. Then deciding being normal is totally repugnant to me anyway. It's caught in the middle, stuck in-between, mediocrity madness, fade into the woodwork time. I want to be something special. Ah, there's the rub. The big epiphany is that there is no big epiphany. It's all just emptiness behind that door you've been waiting to open all your life... nothing, nada, zip. But we don't want to talk about that right now.

It's late, almost one thirty. Moe and Larry will be pulling in any time now. Meanwhile, put on "Spirit in the Night". We love that, don't we? Yes, we do. Catch you later.

"I think I really dug her-- I was too loose to fake.
I said I'm hurt. She said, Honey let me heal it.
And we danced all night to a soul fairy band
And she kissed me just right, like only a lonely angel can.
It felt so right, just as soft as a spirit in the night."

[Old Journal Entries] [Home Page]

Wednesday - October 6, 1999 - 1:29AM EDT

I should be in bed. Tomorrow, really later today, I have an interview scheduled. The job is tech support specialist with a local internet provider. As is so often the case, I'm not sure what I want to happen... do I really want to go back to work? It's part-time, so that would be nice but then who would take care of Lauren over Christmas break? Joe can't take off because of Y2K crap. Heather can't take off 'cause she doesn't have that much time coming.

And why do I get called for every resume I send out? And so often get offered the job? I'm certainly not that much in demand. My resume isn't that great. It has something to do with the fact that I'm never sure I want to work. I know there are people out there looking for work, for sometimes years, who would kill to get an interview. I don't know. I just don't know.

What do I know? I'm reading I Know This Much is True by good old what's-his-name, yeah, Wally Lamb. It's great-- can't put it down. Loved his other novel too She's Come Undone. I don't know anything about Wally Lamb except I swear I must have grown up with him-- his characters experiences are so like mine.

I know Lauren is incredibly smart. She's reading at a 4th grade level. Blows me away sometimes. I know (St.) Joe is too good to me. He had a tooth out last week, was very worried but it went fine, thank goodness.

I know my dog is crazy as can be. He calls Joe & I "little brains" and believes the world is his napkin, while he rubs his face across the living room carpet, his rear end sticking up in the air, with that fleur-de-lis marking-- we call him "boy scout butt." Neither he nor the cat can go outside without RUNNING REAL FAST. It's like it's not any fun at all unless they act like they're getting away with something.

I know my finger is most likely always going to be deformed and I'll never get the movement back in it that I use to have. It's getting worse since the occupational therapy was over-- because I don't do my exercises like I should and the splint doesn't fit right without the coban but I can't wear the coban because it makes my skin all red and sore.

I know I have to get rid of my (head) therapist. She drives me crazy and I'm already crazy enough. But I can't figure out how to tell her I'm quitting. And I'm afraid to quit because that might mean I'm really nuts-- they always say the crazy ones are the ones who don't know it. Marilyn made Joe, me and her appointments with the psychiatrist we use. Gledi... medicine man. We're all going together but not really, each will have her/his own 15 minutes. I think he should be giving us a family discount, don't you?

I know the Steelers suck. We should all move to Miami or somewhere else that has a good football team.

I know it is now 2:04am so it's time to end this rambling and go to bed. Thanks for reading.

[Old Journal Entries] [Home Page]

Monday - September 27, 1999 - 7:54 AM EDT

I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I had a feeling that I belonged.
I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone,
be someone"

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

I guess it's not right, giving up on this journal. Just because I'm down & having a bit of a block, just because it seems like everything I write is crap. It's nothing new and no reason to stop, I guess. Otherwise, I should have quit a long time ago.

Okay, where were we? Vacation in Corolla... Miraculously, our weather was perfect, not sure how we managed that sandwiched between Hurricanes Dennis and Floyd. Didn't see too much damage-- beach erosion and pools of standing water on the roads and in yards. The frogs were incredible. They must have come from all up and down the East Coast. At night, their songs were a symphony-- twills and twangs, "guddy-rump", "nyet, nyet", whistles and screams. One particularly loud one yelled, "Hey, Hey." Very bizarre.

We managed to go swimming in the ocean everyday except the first when the red flags were flying (leftover rip currents.) PW and Jean came down from Va Beach. That was delightful-- lots of beer, wine, sipping whiskey and the saint make it even more delightful.

Since coming home, I've fallen into my usual post-vacation blues, no big deal. My therapist thinks I'm better. She cut my visits down to every other week. I'm not arguing with her. This is a perfect excuse to get out from under her altogether. Just have to rise up from my normal passive, weenie-like behavior and say "Adios."

Am I better? I'm not as anxious but I attribute that to the additional drugs. I know one thing I shouldn't have done. I shouldn't have confronted my dreams earlier this past summer. It was her, my therapist's suggestion and it just about undid me for good. But now, I guess I'm handling it most of the time. Afternoons are still the hardest. I can feel myself sliding down into the pit. Joe and Marilyn and Heather help but I know they're sick of it, wondering, "Will she ever get over this, whatever this may be?"

When we were in Corolla, Jean asked me "What are you going to do now?"-- a totally innocent and understandable question. But for me that's the million dollar question, the one I've been asking myself forever. And my response is always, "Beats me." The writing goes nowhere. I don't have the discipline to do it and inspiration can't be relied on . The web/computer stuff isn't happening either. I'm too hung up on having no credentials or degrees. I probably could find another clerical job but I never felt happy or even competent doing that. And golly gee, guess I'll never be a rock 'n roll star, or an artist, or a dancer, or an ice skater either. I'm at that time in life when many of my friends are talking retirement but I haven't anything from which to retire. What am I going to do now? Beats me.

Look at me losing control
Thinking I had a hold
But with feelings this strong
I'm no longer the master
Of my emotions

For You - Tracey Chapman

[Old Journal Entries] [Home Page]

Monday - September 20, 1999 - 10:37 AM EDT

The last time I wrote in here was 20 days ago. Probably the longest I've ever gone without writing since starting my web journal. It's got me wondering. I've always had trouble writing other things but journal entries practically wrote themselves. Not so right now. I just can't think of anything worth writing about for any length of time. Burnt out I guess. So, for awhile anyway, my journaling days have been put on hold. Talk to you if and when I figure out something to say. Thanks for sticking with me this long. It's been real.

[Old Journal Entries] [Home Page]