Disappointment.

     I'm watching 300 while typing this blog entry. It seems fitting. A small group of proverbial Davids takes on an army of Goliaths, to mark a partial victory that inspires more Davids to rise up. It's inspiring, although it's an exaggerated retelling of a real historical event, the Battle of Thermopylae. Lately, I've been feeling like I have my back against a wall, and the world is just staring me down. It's been a week of disappointment. I will explain.

     I thought I had been doing well a the women's group home at work. After all, I've been surrounded by women my whole life, so I didn't feel out of place. But, I guess two of the residents and one of the guardians has a problem with male staff being there. My supervisor didn't like that the house was going to lose a staff.
     They explained that I hadn't done anything wrong, but they wanted to get me out of there before someone accused me of doing something wrong. Admittedly, I did have a fear of that, since I was engaged to a paranoid schizophrenic who told the police that I was trying to kill her at every turn.
     However, being taught to be a caretaker since childhood, if I'm assigned to someone, I don't like to give up on them. I make it personal. This is why I haven't quit my other job yet; I'm loyal to the people I care for, over the company that assigns me. One lady even reminds me of my mom (when she lived in the nursing home). And I've become buddies with another. And a third, I like to banter and joke with - I often respond to her "What'chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" with "I'm talkin' 'bout yo' mama!"
     But, anyway, they're moving me to the co-ed group home, which is a further commute. Now, many would say "Why would they have a problem with male staff in a female house, but not have a problem with a co-ed home, where the men there have fewer rules to live by?" To which, I would say "Hey, how dare you use logic and reason in this conversation?" This will start on Friday, the 1st.

     I went to meet with Cammy. The semi-official relationship is now... not. The meeting was a disaster. She was very fishy and introducing me as "just a friend". She didn't want to hang out at her place, claiming her ex-husband was stalking her and running her potential boyfriends off. We ran into her dad. After we sat and talked, she had to go home, and so I went to pick up my car at the local Casey's. I went to their bathroom and saw her dad sitting there. I asked him if she was getting a divorce. He said "Not that I know of." I guess I wasted three or four months being "the other man."
     I told her today that, if she wanted a relationship, she'd have to send me proof that there are divorce papers being filed. Later, she said her grandma and dad were scared of her being with me, and they weren't supposed to know about the divorce. I was born early in the morning, not yesterday morning.
     I'm just done with relationships. Yeah, I'm cool with having benefits with a handful of friends who actually care about me, than have a relationship with someone who "loves" me, or in the case of Cammy, "likes and cares about" me.

     Right now, I need to focus on me. I need to make my first priority my work and livelihood. I need to make my second priority my writing, especially Across the Multiverse - my tentatively-titled series.
     I feel like I need to drown myself in my writings. Right now, I have two stories open, and one of my browser tabs on 4chan, along with Blogger.
     I'm not going to waste time fucking with relationships for a while. My work should take up my days, my writing should take up my heart. And, if along the way, I manage to get some naked cuddling with an FWB here and there, that's fine.

     I guess I need to make my stand against the charging stupid shit.

Saturday.

     We went to Wal-Mart Saturday afternoon. My mind, since that morning, was over-active. Analyzing everything ten steps into multiple futures, overthinking everything, overcreating things at top speed, I was feeling manic.

     We were shopping for Christmas. Christmas has been getting to me these past few years. I'm a fan of Halloween. And I started seeing Christmas ads before then. I felt that the over-commercialization of Christmas was encroaching on my holiday time.

     And there's such a panicked influence on gifts. Everyone's hustling and bustling to submit to the routine of this commercialized holiday. I started feeling anxious. And then I was on the phone trying to coordinate meeting with people.

     Meanwhile, I ran into someone from work, but I didn't recognize her. While I was carrying on two conversations, I had to stop and ask where she was from because I almost had a panic attack from turning it into a mini-obsession. I relaxed a bit after she told me.

     I got off the phone, then a horrid light-sensitive headache happened. I had to shut my eyes for a bit.

     The headache passed, and we continue walking around Wal-Mart while I overanalyzed everything. I got to thinking about things from my past. I had a therapist one time give me a homework assignment - to do the 5 Love Languages quiz. It generated a 1-10 score for each form of love communication. Mine were Quality Time - 9, Physical Touch - 9, Meaningful Words - 8, Acts of Service - 3, Gift Giving 2. This was why, when I overheard people worrying about getting the "right" gift, I felt like I was listening to an alien language.

     When I was a kid, gifts came from two sources - Santa and various relatives. And I never complained about the "wrong" kinds of gifts. If people got me the wrong kind of something, I was grateful, and thought "Well, maybe I wasn't specific enough." If "Santa" got me the wrong gift, I wasn't disillusioned about his existence, I just figured that his workers didn't have the schematics for the right gift.

     Back in the day, when I'd get upset about things as a teenager, my mom always said I was spoiled, and pointed to materialistic gains to make her point. I thought about that, and I also thought about what really made me happy as far as things she did. It was moments watching TV or when she taught me to drive. Then in the no-man's land between the bakery and frozen food section, I started crying.

     This holiday season has been the worst. It doesn't help that I lost my home and my family has been scattered around the world. Nor does it help that the 3rd marked the 8th anniversary of my mom's death.

     Compounding the anniversary of her death was the fact that former vocalist of Stone Temple Pilots, Scott Weiland, died on that same day this year. Yeah, he was a famous person, but he was a person nonetheless. What made it hit home was his ex-wife's open letter she wrote to the public. She basically said that, while he died on the 3rd, she lost her husband and the kids lost their dad a long time ago; all they lost was hope for improved relationships. She emphasized that nothing is more important that spending time with your kids, and addictions can ruin that. It hit home.

     Bottom line is I just feel like a mess.

Overhaul.

     I have a new job new in Petersburg now. It's to the point that my Vincennes job is my part time one. I work at a women's group home. They didn't know if I'd be able to deal with it, but I am. I said that it just comes easy for me because I grew up surrounded by women - single mom, mostly female family friends, etc.

     Things are starting to balance out, no matter how often Shortney freaks out that the sky is falling. For the most part, I like the living situation; but like anywhere, I feel like I'm the observant thinker who wants to see the big picture, and therefore not panic.

     My new job schedule is changing already. Instead of having the last three days off next week, I'll have the first three days off. Which means that, after this Wednesday, I will have Thursday, Friday, and Saturday off (not counting the few part-time hours); then Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday off (being the next week), for a total of six.

     In addition to this being a long weekend, Friday is my payday. I'll knock some bills out and get some shopping done. Friday through Tuesday, I'm going to get just a bit tipsy (barring no obligations) and pick at the housecleaning. Also, I'd like to stock up on orange juice and OTC meds because I've been sick. Headache (which started back up before being sick), dizziness, icky taste, etc. I want to take this time to lay low and try to get better.

      After a few months of talking, Cammy and I have come to the conclusion that we're semi-official. We like talking to each other, and we open up a lot, and even have weird pet names for each other, but haven't made a day of meeting and hanging out. Thus, my Facebook relationship is "In a relationship, but it's complicated." It's my way of saying "I have someone special, but it's not totally official."
     This past Thanksgiving, she kept me company all day, since I was working and had nothing to do afterward. She was playing Battleship with her son, and she sent me pics of the gameboard while asking me for move suggestions. That meant a lot to me.

     I haven't heard about anything related to Lynn. That's perfectly fine with me. She can go, I don't know, fall down a hill of brambles and into a piranha-filled lake for all I care. Last I heard, she's already gone through her relationship cycle with the latest guy/victim. I guess my only concern is that is the ego stroke I get when something I predict happens. I would have to say that's one of my major assholean qualities.

Sick of bullshit.

     The company I work for has done it again! Now that I moved, I'm in a household partnership with someone, and now the company has fist-fucked me again. First, they tried to rearrange my hours, saying I was going to get burned out working all day Sunday. I was down to 34/week, but still spread out among 6 days (reducing my chances of getting supplementary part-time work). The nominal majority of my hours are with someone who spends his time in and out of the hospital. After the last time, I was told that there would be a back-up plan so I don't suffer a loss in hours the next time he was sick or injured. He's back in there again, and they don't have a back-up plan for me.
     I'm done. I've already applied at one company who will take me in, as long as I pass a background check. As I talked to HR at the new place, she was telling me more and more about how she could fit me in. In addition, a friend of mine said she was going to back me up if I applied at another place. I know one of these will pan out, I just don't like the transitional time.

Indigenous People's Day weekend.

     I guess the title of this post shows that I stand with those who want to rename Monday's holiday. I think it's a good idea. However still, growing up in Port Huron, Michigan - a border town, I still tend to think of Monday as the Canadian Thanksgiving. I have memories of my mom being happy to have overtime hours, since the hospitals where she worked tended to have a 1/4 Canadian staff.
     With that, I wished a friend of mine I met on Facebook a happy Thanksgiving. Then we got to talking about things going on. I fell down some stairs Saturday night, so I talked a bit about that. She said I should see a chiropractor. I explained a bit why it's a little hard to do with how insurance works. That was a bit of a culture shock. She said "I don't know how you guys survive." I said "Play Borderlands! You'll get the general idea." I then explained that it takes place on Pandora, where there's a weak government, a handful of corporations run everything, the healthcare and education systems are horrid, and uneducated wackos run around with heavier and heavier artillery.

     So, anyway, I'm stiff and sore. My left big toe was sprained, and my right ankle hurts (but not as much). On top of that, I woke up hungry. The fried rice helped, and I'm watching the movie of the game Heavenly Sword. I figured I might as well get informed about the mythology before getting back into the game.
     Well, the movie's over, and I'm listening to Bob's Burgers while writing more. I've started yawning, so I must be winding back down again. My friend Brittany reminds me so much of Louise, from this show. So I call her Louise, and her contact icon is that character.

     I do have some love life news to report. I was texting Cammy today, and she said her minutes were getting ready to run out. After her minutes would run out, we plan to still talk on Kik, as long as she could find a WiFi connection. At that point that wasn't going to be until she went to work Tuesday.
     She was stressing, and I guess one of her major concerns was if we were going to be O.K. I made sure she was talking about what I called "the us thing." She said yes. I told her we were going to be fine. I figured it was time to admit that, not only are we optimistic that we'd take that step from "talking to each other" to "seeing each other" once we meet, we're pretty much counting on it, and it's all a matter of making that first visit and hanging out. She agreed, since we really like talking about anything and everything. Her minutes ran dry right after that conversation.
      I thought I'd just put everything out there, and write her a note about things that I'm self-conscious about when it comes to letting people in. I wrote about my verbal habits, sexual weirdness, bizarre taste in music, and my anxieties. Later in the evening she contacted me through Kik. She took a friend to the hospital; she immediately explained that as soon as she messaged me, since we tend to worry about each other. I sent her my note. She said she was fine with what I said. And said she already misses talking.
     I'm scared and excited. But so far, I'm not seeing any red flags.

Getting my insane swagger back.

     I figured out what I want to get as my next tattoo. Of course, it will be after the move and I get settled in. My next tattoo will be the pic above. D&D fans would recognize it as the holy symbol of the god Olidammara. He is the Chaotic Neutral god of wine, women, song, and trickery. I like to describe him as a combination of Bacchus and the lighter side of Loki. Yes, it will be a conversation piece among my fellow geeks, but there is a symbolism that comes with the tattoo. It represents getting my insane swagger back.
     Today (actually, since it's 5 AM Wednesday, yesterday) at work, I listened to some steampunk music, part of which contained some pirate-themed songs, which put me in a good mood. I got in the mood to write more in my series Across the Multiverse; that was most likely because I plan for the second and fourth stories in the series to feature space pirates. So my mood was elevated.
     This coming month will be major holidays: October 25th (my beliefs state that a person's own birthday is the celebration of the birth of one's own savior) and Halloween. In the fall, I feel that I come alive again. New home with one of my best friends, extra check (I budget for two a month, there will be 3), and maybe a new girlfriend (if things go well when I meet Cammy).
     And things are looking up from the Lynn situation. People are coming out of the woodwork and telling me that it's not me; she's just messed up. I feel better and better each day being away from her. I was lamenting that she turned out to be like last year's girlfriend, when she could have been worse - like 2002's fiancee.
     Things are looking up. I just have to get through this move.

Self-analysis and new horizons

    I did some self-therapy; if you see enough shrinks, you tend to learn to analyze yourself. But anyway, I've come to an astounding conclusion!
1. I think I unconsciously ignore the red flags of a serial monogamist.
2. Serial monogamy is an addiction to the honeymoon period of a relationship.
3. Subconsciously, I stick with a serial monogamist because I want to cure them.
4. I still haven't come to grips with the fact that I couldn't cure my mom of her addiction.
5. Subconsciously, I keep trying to fix a female with an addiction because I want to cure my mom, but she died.
     In conclusion, I feel an unneeded sense of worthlessness because I couldn't cure them. But there's no reasoning or curing someone with an addiction. I'll keep this in mind as I go on to better things.

     Speaking of better things, over the past month and a half, I've put my feelers out there. And, well, I've started talking to someone. She's a librarian named Cammy. We've talked before, but this past evening, we expressed a mutual interest in meeting up and seeing where it goes. And we're both hoping for the best.
    Last night, she sent me a pic of her face without glasses, and I smiled brilliantly.
     We've both emotionally gotten our asses handed to us, so we'll take things slowly. I can imagine our first dozen encounters feeling like we're interviewing each other. Let's hope for the best.
     She has a 20 gauge shotgun, and I have a crossbow. We're batting around the first-date idea of doing target practice. It should be fun. I'm excited, but with reservations.

Get the word out.

   Every so often, especially after a break up, I like to write something humorous like this to make myself smile. With that in mind, please let the following people know I'm single.

1. Actress Rebel Wilson
2. Actor Crispin Glover
3. Half of Rammstein (Christoph, Olli, and Richard)
4. Adult model Ashley Sage Ellison
5. Adult actress Felicia Clover
6. Dark cabaret musician Voltaire
7. Actress Christina Ricci
8. Wrestler Batista
9. Adult model Renee Ross
10. Actor Ralph Feinnes

Here I sit, writing on the paper...

     There's so much going on with me, emotionally and in life. Over the past couple of years, I've been heartbroken twice and constantly financially fist-fucked.

     I've come to grips with all that happened with the Lynn situation. I even figured out that the baby wasn't even mine.
     And I've been hearing about my previous ex having a baby (when she swore there was no one else). That didn't bother me so much as give me that "ah-ha" I needed. I spoke to her briefly, and she gave me the typical liars' catch-phrase "I tried to tell you."
     I'm at the point where I'm dissecting these two bullshit events in my life, and trying to figure out how to avoid future catastrophes. Other than that, I don't know what to do. I'm not a physically vengeful person, but these two are bound to come up in casual conversation from time to time, and I'll tell whomever I can about how awful they are.
     I'm not looking to get into a relationship, but there are a few I like talking to. But I'm keeping it as flirtationships right now.

     From the IRS to job insecurity to car problems, my finances have taken a hit. I can't live in my apartment any more. Plans are in the works to move to Washington, Indiana, with my friend Courtney.
     We need each other right now. No, not 'that' way. She's strictly chickly. But we're close enough that I like to refer to her as "my lesbian lover". I think I might need someone around.
     We'll split bills and rent. My job, even though they fuck up my payroll, really wants to keep me. At least there's security in that department. I'm thinking, this weekend, I could go to Shortney's and see what things of mine would fit.

     My, I guess you'd call it, joie de vivre, is missing. Many people refer to their own joie de vivre as something different. Some call it their groove. Others call it their strut. I call mine my insane swagger.
     My insane swagger has been severely weakened. It's not there. I'm listless. I'm terrified of the world. My brazen grin rarely even makes a cameo appearance. My gallows humor isn't as spontaneous. Something's got to give. Something has to help.

My spring love; my summer heartache

     Late last year, I started a POF account. My headline was "Raggedy madman ISO a companion." It was a Dr. Who reference designed to maybe get the attention of other Whovians. I met someone in late January, Lynn (her middle name I came to regularly use). It was wonderful at first, but it ended up emotionally ripping me apart.

     When Lynn originally broke up with me in mid-May, she said she couldn't be in a relationship because she needed to take time to focus on her son.
     We stayed in touch, and in mid-June, I started getting flirty again and she was cool with it. She also said she was likely pregnant. A few days later, she confirmed it.
     For a month, we planned for a baby and talked about possibly restarting slowly. I'd send her sweet notes and she liked them.
     In mid-July, she lost the baby. She grieved for a week, then she barely talked much. Her Kik messenger was even off (she told me it was broke or something).
     August 28th, her boyfriend messaged me on her Kik, saying watch what I say to her because she's with him. I called her phone and he answered. He was contacting me while she was in the shower. He told me they were talking long-distance romantically since her birthday (a week after the breakup), and that he finally moved in around a week after she lost the baby. No final closure with me, just telling me all along she had been trying to stay busy after losing the pregnancy.

     When someone upsets or hurts me, I first lash out. Then I take time to gather my thoughts and then I start writing a rational, thoughtful letter. I did this last year with another flighty ex who didn't know what she wanted. I should compile the letters and write a book called "Anatomy of a Serial Monogamist." I wrote a four page letter analyzing my end of what happened. It was my way of saying "I know what you are, I know how you work. I'm demystifying you to show you I see through you. You can't hurt me anymore." It was one of the most honest, heartfelt, and visceral works I have ever done. I did what I could to be subtly vindictive, and tried to apply Churchill's definition of tact: "The ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip."
     The Architect from "The Matrix" was right: "Denial - The most predictable of human responses." She responded as others have. She rationalized her actions. She minimized the hurt she caused by downplaying what we had. She blamed me for being upset for not being told that she had someone else. It's what narcissistic sociopaths do when you call them out on their shit. I was frustrated because it was like they say about playing chess with a pigeon. No matter how good you are at chess, the pigeon just knocks the pieces over, shits on the board, and struts around victoriously.
     The letter must have served it's purpose. It hit a nerve because she was angry at what I said. She was so angry she called me on the phone instead of texting, as her texts grew more incomprehensible, possibly from shaky hands.

      It's been a few days, and I've come to understand what has upset me. I meant nothing to someone that meant so much to me. But that doesn't mean I'm worthless. Art is no less beautiful, just because it was displayed to a blind person. Same for music to deaf people.
     Also, I realized I can't fix her relationship addiction any more than I could fix my mom's alcohol addiction. She's done this her whole adult life, and no amount of shaming her or logical appeal will fix it.

     The best thing that came of this was that I got to learn how I am when I love someone. I learned the deep capacity of how I can love. I love having someone to shower with tender smiles and random poetry. People were so happy to see me like that.
     The worst thing about this, other than the heartache, was that I drifted out of sync with my beliefs. I wasted love on an ingrate, I committed the sin of self deception by ignoring the red flags, I committed solipsism by assuming she and I were on the same wavelength, among other things.

     I guess my Dr. Who metaphor fits. In my love life, I'm this quirky weird person who lands in someone's life, provides them with a fresh skewed perspective, and ingratiates himself with his off-beat charm. Then we go one this weird, wild adventure. But my companion ends up unable to stay with me for long. So off I go.

Bored

     I'm sitting at work, wishing I were home. I'm tired and bored. Sometimes when I feel like this, I text friends with random porn pics, with the caption "Boobies!" It's a state of mind I call "porn-throwing bored".

     Speaking of which, I go through periods of a few days where I'm infatuated with one specific porn-star or pin-up. When I do, I get on the internet and just look up that one. Right now, I'm crazy over Peaches LaRue. She's a 47 year old BBW endowed with 38Gs. I'd happily cuddle naked with her. Yeah, I know, I'm a pervert.
     Well, I wrote a short story to a pin-up I correspond with. She's Kerry Stephens, and she's based out of Fort Wayne. She said it was really good, and asked if I write much.

     Last night, I went to a housewarming/birthday party for my pint-sized homegirl Shortney. She insisted I sleep on the couch, since I had beer.
     I'm feeling a bit sick to my stomach today, though. Might have been all the food.

     Needless to say, I'm ready to get this shift over. Boobies and butt are about to be thrown far and wide.

My shitty mood.

     I just recently went through a really bad heartbreak. It happened the 15th of this month. Not the usual thing, either. This is something I've never gone through before. The one person that understands, the one that I went through the heartbreak with, has been so quiet lately. She swore me to secrecy, and then stops talking at the time I'm hurting most. I'm not ashamed to say that I broke my vow of silence and talked to a person who's been a friend I could confide in for years.
     She's dealing with it her own unproductive way, and I'm dealing with it my own way. The day I found out was, coincidentally, my day off. As a Laveyan Satanist, I see my home as sacred territory, and a place to get centered. In addition, I use what is traditionally known as the 7 Deadly Sins to get centered. I stayed home and engaged in gluttony, sloth, and wrath. I ate Chinese food, drank rum, ate two P'Zones, laid around, and listened to blasphemous death metal.
     Listening to death metal was satisfying because she said that maybe what happened was God's will. So, naturally, the first two songs I listened to were "Mad At God" and "Fuck Your God", both by Deicide.
     Right now, I'm dealing with her silence by trying to cope on my own. I'm writing, crunching numbers on roleplaying games, listening to podcasts, and watching comedians with a jaded sense of humor. I wish I knew what to do at this point. I don't have parents, nothing. I can't deal right now.

Pet peeves.

     Lately I've come to the realization that my biggest pet peeves - more like major hatreds - revolve around communication. We work in organizations that are on the verge of falling apart because people interrupt and misquote each other. We have devices that are supposed to increase our ability to communicate, but we don't use them as such.
     One thing that gets on my nerves to the point where I want to scream "Shut the fuck up! I'm talking!" is when I'm either asked for input or I feel it's my turn to have my say, and people interrupt me. It sets me off like crazy.
     Texting is starting to become a huge problem with me. For example, I'm talking to someone, and they stop responding in the middle of the conversation. It's like hanging up on someone in the middle of a phone call. They don't say "BRB" or even explain what happened when they finally start talking again. No one has any sense of etiquette anymore. What makes it even worse is when they stop texting right after I ask an important question.
     And then there's trying to have a phone conversation. If I'm paying that money to a phone company, it'd be nice to be able to have a conversation without being cut off.
     In all honesty, I would have to say that my most hated situation to be in is one where I feel that free conversation and the flow of ideas are stifled or censored. I can't deal with it. But more and more I feel like I live in that.

Happenings.

     I had a varry-in at work to welcome the new office director. I brought in chili sweetened with brown sugar and spiced with habaneros. People said it was good, but was very hot. I think it's ironic that I like cold weather, but I also like spicy food. I've been experimenting with different tastes lately, and I'm thinking of writing a food blog.
     I had a coughing jag, and since then, this one woman was staring at me. And she openly talked about me right in front of me! She was saying things like "He shouldn't be here if he's sick. I don't need that bullshit! So, I calmly told her "I've already gotten sick. The air is dry, so I started gagging. If there are any more issues to address with me, feel free to speak with me about them."

     Well, I've been seeing Lynn for over a month now. We've been to each other's homes, and her son likes me. We exchanged "I love you"s for the first time Tuesday! It's big, it's new, and it's exciting. I've been telling everyone. I hope thus turns into something good.
<3

I really need to do this more

The title of this entry says it all. I haven't posted since October. Well, anyway, I have a new job, car, and girlfriend. I guess I could talk about those, just to get my thoughts out.

I now work in a similar place to what I did before, but the people I work with are much higher functioning. It's good because they can state what they want, but can be a pain when they report staff because they don't get their way. As far as I can tell, people like me there. I'm one of many refugees from my old place of work.

The timing belt broke on my old Dodge Stratus, which had a chain reaction effect, fucking up the rest of the engine. I traded it in for an older Nissan Maxima. It runs fine, but I do have to get a new muffler for it. The faster I drive, the louder it is, so I try to avoid driving fast, but yesterday, I got pulled over for driving too slow.

I signed up with an app called Plenty of Fish, and after a few flirtations with one who stood me up and another who was just... off... I found someone that I really like, and whose company I enjoy a lot. And the feelings are mutual, from what I gather.

My life hasn't gotten a full facelift, but did get a nip and tuck here and there. I will keep this blog posted about all this.