Annoying person from high school on facebook,

Kindly develop a new habit and stop updating your status with the same droll crap that nobody cares about.  Why must you post at the same time every day "up, gettin' ready, work whatever to whatever."  Is your part-time post-grad job as a "beauty specialist," (read: operates spare register at the make-up counter) at Kohl's so exciting you must let us know every day?  I mean, I love their 90% off racks as much as anyone in these tough economic times, but Jesus Christ, shut up already.

Furthermore, your constant proclamations of love for your eerily pre-pubescent looking bf is becoming sort of sickening to read about every day.  So for the love of Christ stop talking about how much you love "Jammie."  WTF Jammie?  He is a grown man, not a pajama bottom.

Lastly, you look like a retarded mouse- a fact mostly unchanged since 3rd grade.  Your profile picture kissy faces do nothing to lessen this effect.

Middle-aged fucksticks who bully 16-or-17-old kids working the register a fast food place.

Standing behind a man with a bad combover and an ass like a Sherman tank.  Fries were cold.  Didn't want mayo on his burger.  Wants his money back.  NOW.  Dinner rush, lines out the door.  Manager MIA.  Won't accept new fries or burger (there's a surprise).  He's had it with you "dumb kids."  Waited 15 minutes while she tries to go through about 50 receipts looking for his order, being berated as a "moron," the whole time. 

Kinda like that scene in Fast Times at Ridgemont High where Bradley threatens to punch the asshole suit with the half-eaten brekfast, except the kid behind this counter looked like she was going to cry.

So not cool.

A local man shuffled off the coil amid all the theatrics a small town PD could pull off.  In the office of his mortgage company that he had recently filed bankrupcy on.  He called 911.  The swat teams shut down Broadway.  He shot himself in the head with a high-powered rifle.

Online the city newspaper was following it minute by minute-- it's not like anything else happens in this town worth reporting on.  Half the messages were egging him to do it.  Make sure you get your whole head in front of the gun.  A lot of people pissed about not getting their Blizzards or Slurpees (the office sat between a Dairy ueen and 7-11).  One man's life is your missed 1000 calorie lunch.  A big surprise there.

I'm beginning to see why people do it.  What do we have here?  A man in his 50s, successful, very successful, lost it all.  Economy in the toilet.  No hope for a better prospect.  We are all about $.  It is our worth.  And for a man, his entire saving grace.  Without it, what is a man?  In this society, as good as nothing.  Maybe he realized that.  Death > corraling carts at Wally World.  What a world we've created for ourselves.

Scratch that.  I'm not beginning to understand.  I'm done with that process.  Been there, almost done that.  Maybe there was method in his madness.

Poor man.  May he find peace wherever he is.   

Jesus: he got nailed.  End of story. 

Happy hijacked pagan fertility (read: get nailed) ritual.  And it all comes full circle again.  Hallelujeh!  He has risen (and no, I don't mean like that).

No grad school for me.  I feel retarded but free.  Six to eight less years incurring massive debts getting older and uglier studying something less and less of use in the employment world.  A stepping stone, not a primary passion.

Ditched LJ for awhile.  Back now.  At least for a periodic update.  The conundrum of LJ is that it feels like a good outlet for all the fears, lack of control, anger that's sadly, taken over my life this past year.  On the other side, it reads like a giant book of misery that I'm in no mood to keep updating day in and day out with the same old crap.  So my life fell apart.  Writing about it, I find, doesn't really help.

Either way, I feel like writing again, because something is going to break soon.  I don't know what.  But I can feel it.  There's going to be a huge sea change in my life starting now or soon from now.  I want to be in better control over it than I have been.  Everything really collapsed around my birthday.  No jobs.  No prospects.  Reverting back to old habits of self-destruction.  I get so consumed in this kind of despair I can't even think straight.  Since then a lot's happened.

I got a job in January working in a call center in Orono.  It's the type of place that's continuously hiring for the sole reason that even in this economy, there's only so much shit people will put up with for 8 bucks an hour.  I was working on a contract for a cell phone company based out of Biloxi, MS.  Unanimously voted the worst contract in the building, I found out it was no exaggeration.  An average of 3 people a day were fired for bullshit reasons like filling out a customer service form the wrong way, and 3X that many dropped like flies every week.

I got fired after a week.  Because of my accent.  On my first audit, my manager calls me in.  Proceeds to call me "ghetto Irish," "low-class," and "poorly representing the company."  Apparently it's crucial that we don't give any indication of this deep-south company's customer service line having been outsourced to omzg Yankees.  All this coming from a 20-year-old high school dropout with three kids by three different men.  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.  Long story short, I could see a speech coach and lose 150 a week in lost work time, or... leave.  I said taking that kind of pay cut wasn't an option.  Fired.  No great loss.  In the grand scheme of things, I'd rather be broke than deal with that kind of bullshit.

Then lo and behold 3 my dad got laid off.  We had expected that, but he had another job lined up.  Or so we thought.  The guy who had recommended him for it ended up taking the job himself.  As is, my family has zero income.  A week after that, my brother messed up his arm on a baseball trip and needs a $12,000 surgery that insurance has so far refused to pay for.

Economically not a pretty picture.  Bad luck is a three-pronged bitch though.  First week in February, creepazoid who'd been bombarding me with creepy, harassing messages literally since '07 decides to rear his insecure little head, throws an emo bitchfit because he thinks I blew him off one time at the club.  A YEAR ago.  Blocked the asshole (for the umpteenth time).  I guess that really threw the piss in his cornflakes.  Freako completely snaps.  Sends "letter" of of deluded rambling, random profanity mixed in with his idea of lecture ("you should take my constructive  criticism instead of living in denial like a typical feminazi.")  (O RLY?).  Like any sensible woman spurning the advances of a creep-o who writes five page love letters to introduce himself on MySpace is some kind of hairy-legged banshee.  Blocked, reported for abuse-- again.  Comes online three hours later with another username.  Same deal.  Feminism= his impediment to getting a date.  I'm a "callous c*nt."  I'm going to die alone.  Oh, then he threatens to kill me, skin my dogs, make me "sorry for the way I've treated people."  Yeah.  Just what I need on top of everything else, some psycho threatening to kill me.  Well thank dog for feminism.  Don't get scared ladies, get angry.
  
So things hit rock bottom.  But I've got something coming up that provides a glimmer of hope in a world that has very little of it to offer.  I made a friend in the clinical research department at a psych hospital, guaranteed a job when and if the grant money for a study comes in.  If I can hold out another month, and if the financiers find creating efficiency in the methadone clinic a worthwhile cause, I'm good to go.

Been screenwriting up a storm.  I'm feeling my creative prowess taking it's rightful place again, looking for script readers, making big plans even if the future is grim.  Can't say i didn't try.

I also found a loophole in the state laws for getting my driver's license.  I wear glasses for my vision now although my peripheral vision sucks balls.  No epileptic episodes in two months--- so technically it counts as "under control."  Another thing to work toward that actually might give me a leg up in life.  A driver's license, pretty basic.

I guess I feel better being totally consumed with something I want to do.  It's all I think about and in a weird way, unrealistic as it is, it keeps me alive.  Eternal sunshine, Hollyweird, rock n' roll, trashy glamour, fake boobs.  I love it all.  And if I can't have it, I'll at least breathe it in, let it rub off a little.  
   
 
 

I missed Cruxshadows.
So badly want a few astronomically low-priced Lippy closeouts, for birthday in two days.
But I can't bring myself to do so.
I have no job.
And I've done a lot of wrong lately,
Violent, destructive, self-harming and others-harming.
I want to say it's that I can't control the urges sometimes
And I'm losing it- losing my light and my sanity;
Yet I feel that if I indulge in even small things
Karma will get me, and I'll lose more.
Punished for my sins so to speak-

I won't get a job 

Or get into grad school

Or ever make it to Los Angeles.

It's not the first birthday I've gone without, or the first birthday that's been forgotten.

This is not a poem. 
I can only express disjointed or seemingly irrational feelings in short lines.
But I don't think I'm irrational or paranoid
To believe that I am undeserving or must atone;
Catholic guilt or something like it: hard to shake. 
 

I.don't.want.to.be.here.anymore.I.don't.want.to.be.what.I've.become.