I wanted to listen to My Own Prison this morning (oh hush, I love it), but I couldn’t remember who sang it. I knew Scott Stapp, but I didn’t know the name of the band. I put my head down and thoughtthoughthought – and CREED popped into my head. I yanked my head up to scroll back up to get to the C’s, and saw that my cursor was hovering over My Own Prison. I’m not even lying.
Co-Workers think I’m a witch because I can ‘find’ people. If I start thinking about someone or talking about someone, I’ll see one of their packages or letters that day. 3 have happened at the same moment. I was listening to a friend speak about a co-worker’s ex-husband being a deadbeat dad and how they couldn’t locate him and yadayada – and guess who’s letter I happened to be holding with his new address? Yeah.
I was talking to a new gal about the psych department at the university and rambled on about my favorite professor – only to be holding her package when I looked down. These strange “happenings” make me jump inside – my guts are tied in knots for hours afterward.
Then my favorite – I was telling my friend at work about my mother’s diet pill addiction – and proceeded to toss a package (of pills) into the bin. I went to check on the package because of how it landed. It was mom’s. I damn near had a heart attack.
If I’m a witch, I’m getting fucked out of cool powers. Soooo, I don’t think so.
All from ~ I A N ~ ‘s pt and ot and principal and nurse. WONDERFUL people. Just checking in with various comments and suggestions after getting my email this morning about his appointment Monday.
I heart them.
I have all my Halloween decorations now. Just need to wait another week or so. As soon as I see a fall display outside someone ‘s home – it’s on.
The principal said I was strong. I sure don’t feel strong. I feel really really weak and small right now. My son has started down a path that I can’t save him from. All I can do is hold his hand and walk with him.
I can only imagine – this song comes on right at this second? As I sit here thinking about Heaven and my son and my dad and is any of this shit real – and this song plays? I’m not much into signs and I’ve only recently began talking to God again – but I have over 10 gb of music, and I Have one “religious” song – and this is it. It gives me chills, especially right now.
I can only imagine what it will be like When I walk, by your side I can only imagine what my eyes will see When you face is before me I can only imagine I can only imagine
Surrounded by Your glory What will my heart feel Will I dance for you Jesus Or in awe of You be still Will I stand in Your presence Or to my knees will I fall Will I sing hallelujah Will I be able to speak at all I can only imagine I can only imagine
I can only imagine when that day comes When I find myself standing in the Son I can only imagine when all I would do is forever Forever worship You I can only imagine I can only imagine
Surrounded by Your glory What will my heart feel Will I dance for You, Jesus Or in awe of you be still Will I stand in your presence Or to my knees will I fall
~ I A N ~ had his semi annual appt Monday. Basically, his spine is shit and needs rods. His heart is ‘nothing to worry about’ , yet she ups the doses and orders a third heart pill. And a heart monitor. And they stamp – sudden heart failure risk – on his chart. yeah, it’s fine.
They won’t wait until he has left the room before they start talking about serious stuff. His care, they say. He’s almost 16. Yeah, I know, but my boy is sensitive. He was having trouble yesterday about the spinal rods thing, and we talked and he felt better. Now we have to tell him that the test results show major scoliosis, and he needs the spinal fusion surgery. He will no longer be able to feed himself. Or write. Or or or. I hope he can still play video games. That will be a sad fucking day in this house.
I will own these motherfuckers by the end of winter.
I swear it. I will do whatthefuckever I have to do get them. Jay already asked how much they were when I was gushing over them. $320. I know. That’s groceries. Car payment. But dammit, those boots will last forever. No lie. I add a pair or two every year, and most go back 15-20 years now. I take care of my boots. I love my boots.
And these will be my boots…
Say hello to my pretties …
Go to the site to turn the boot to its side – udder perfection.
I wrote a partial post, clicked anyfuckingwhere to hide it when the fam walks in, and then I lose it when I’m alone again. I don’t retype. Can never get it right the second time. So, it’s gone. Something about old flames that shouldn’t be revisited anyway.
I hate that I am limited here by what might be. Who might find this. Who might read it. I’d move , but it doesn’t hold the same charm for me anywhere else. So, here I stay. And here I stay restricted. S’ok. Partial release is better than no release.
Two paragraphs in, and I’ve said nothing. It’s a gift.
I still love my job. I do. But it’s hard work, and it’s so early – 1am. That sucks when you have to go to bed when everyone else is just getting into their evening. I miss so much. I’m always tired. I’m getting a better routine, but that involves sleep, and I detest sleep. Wastes my fucking life minutes. I will sleep when I’m dead. Until then, I’ll live on the bare ass minimum.
So the other job I applied for hasn’t started interviewing yet. Friend of mine said the boss is holding off, while trying to talk to me on the side the past few days about how I’m next to be promoted, and how everyone loves me, and how I’ll be working that window soon.
He’s a fat fucking liar. Yes, I’m next, but the 1pm-930pm gal threw her hat into the mix. Now I’m fucked. Let me explain.
Position comes open – people bid for that time slot, that specific job/role. Sometimes it’s window, sometimes it’s work. Clerk work. And clerk work is NOT sorting letters. It’s pushing 500lb metal cages full of mail and packages around a huge plant. It’s unloading the truck when it’s 130 degrees on the dock – or worse, 15 degrees. It’s standing in one spot sorting packages or mail or magazines for 4-5 hours at a time. There’s a job there sorting all mail for the 72 rural towns – I kind of like it now. It’s ass stomping busy. Like, you get there at 1 and except for a mandatory break at 4 – you go at it until 7. Full speed sorting and throwing and moving and running and omg it’s nuts. Exhilarating though.
Anyfucking way – I am a support clerk right now. I can’t bid on jobs yet. So I have to wait until Person A wins the bid for the empty spot – AND THEN I have to wait for Person B to win Person A’s now empty position – and so on. I would get what ever job is left – and it’ll be the worst one with the worst hours. And I consider 1-9pm fucking horrible. No one else wants it either. So that means I’m a shoe in.
Some ways it’s not bad. There is nothing to do but make sure your support clerk is doing their job and bullshit with drivers. Fucking easy. And I like the people on that shift. Just not the hours. I need to be here for when ~ I a n ~ gets off the bus.
We’ll make it work if we have to. Just rather not have to.
He bought me a Note 10+. I am a phone whore. I love fucking love new phones. New androids. I love coloring with the stylus.
I better bring knee pads to bed tonight. That thank you will take awhile.
I’m good. Amazing what taking your meds — all of your meds — will do for your mood. I essentially blew off about half of my medication by not taking the night ones religiously. I need 3 lithium tablets – I take 2 at night so they don’t upset my stomach. So I basically score low on the lithium levels BECAUSE I DON”T TAKE ~~~~~ MOST ~~~~~~ OF MY LITHIUM!!!!
Anywhoooo – I’m better. I applied for another position and since I love where I am now, either way is great. I would make more an hour, but with a lot less hours – for now. The pay would stay later as I bid for other jobs with more hours. This schedule that’s open is days – m-sat. 8am-1pm. Sweet.
BUT – I get around 35-45 hours a week here. I may make less, but OT kicks ass no matter what you make. And it’s po dunk town. Happens to be The po dunk town I grew up in. Well, the minitown over from there. I would be home. Sort of. I know a great of the folks there. Good people. Hot farmer men. Win fucking Win.
In other news…. my new phone will be here sat. I had to wait to get the one I wanted. I wanted the aura whatever one. Swirly. Cool. Not that any of you give a shit but I had to tell someone alive about my upcoming joy on saturday.
We joined a gym yesterday. Even ~ I a n ~ is on the membership because Hot Trainer #1 said he would hop in the pool with him and do a little PT. I thought about breaking a fucking leg to get a little of that PT action, but I just smiled and told him how wonderful that would be. And it would, cause to see that man in some trunks. Good golly molly. 230lbs – 9% body fat.
Hot Trainer #2 offered to be my personal trainer – for $350 a month. Seriously. And that’s only 2 times a week. Again, seriously dude. Like I would want to be around him all old, fat, and sweaty. Fuck that. I’ll stick to the routine the intake trainer gave me today. I get 3 more free sessions, and I’ll use that to learn what I need to do. We could get a family bundle – 48 sessions for only $1920. That’s 1- 2 months.
What the fuck? If you have this kind of money laying around- call me. I’ll train you. Train you to spend your money a little wiser. I can see having a trainer. I can’t see them charging that much. Don’t they get paid by the gym? I’m baffled – and in the wrong line of work.