Take a Ride on the Drama Llama

Moving and new job are at the top of the list for life events most stressful. Moving back to a town where most of my friends live takes the edge off - I have some support and things to do from time to time. Also the folks at work are great and I am making a few potential friends, not just friendly-because-we’re-here acquaintances.

Still, I continue to be lonelier than hell. To offset this, I have been going on hikes with an active hiking group, and accumulating gear for actual backpacking trips. It keeps me occupied. I made myself a hiking quilt, sort of a sleeping bag minus the zipper and a couple other features that make mummy bags too claustrophobic for my liking. I joined hiking forums. I did a lot of research.

I’m still unpacking from the move and will likely share a booth at the swap meet with a friend to offload random items and the plethora of books I haven’t read in two years. My pets are doing okay, but I have lately wanted to kill them for waking me up too early - the time change is not our friend.

I am trying hard to move slowly, make no rash decisions, take deep breaths, move through the transitional period and let the situation settle before doing anything else like committing to another group or shifting my work schedule. The impulse is to get busy and stop feeling so lonely. It’s not that friends aren’t great - it’s just that I’ve gotten to the point that coming home to an empty apartment is getting harder and harder, and nearly half my life is behind me. One of my friends is widowed; she got to spend her younger active years with a husband she loved dearly. Others have had relationships, spouses, divorces, and have children and grandchildren to fill the space.

I’ve had relationships, a husband, and they’re all gone. In my less rational moments I have to wonder what I did wrong. It’s not like I don’t know how to be a good friend, or how to make connections. It’s just sort of what happened. And the older you get, the fewer options there seem to be. I haven’t met an unattached *person* in two years - everyone’s got someone. Forget meeting someone compatible; that seems like a pipe dream. The one compatible person I knew didn’t want me, apparently.

It all seems harder and harder to handle. So I write less, and blog less, and try harder to be active, because it’s pretty much all I can do.

And before you suggest dating sites.. been there, done that, not going back to it. All it taught me was that people either lie, or have distorted self awareness that leads to uncomfortable situations. I only ever met one person on them who was honest. That didn’t work either.

But more tired.

I’ve started saying good bye to some of the kids I’ve been working with.

Who knew 12 year old boys were such drama queens?

Why did I leave the final bit of my yuletide fic til now?

Why did I forget what brilliant thing I was going to end it with?

Why did I wait until now to turn all this yarn into one sided scarves for various persons I know?

Lo, behold, the lady of unanswerable imponderables. Yogis on mountains in Siberia are pondering these, and shall do so until the end of time.

Followup call to person who interviewed me.

“Is [name] there?”

“No, she’s no longer with [business].”

Um.

Oh.

Guess I’ll keep sending resumes.

Ever feel like you were riding along on a tall wave and were just reaching the tiptop of it, and it was about to crash down flat and take you with it?

My first choice of work issue solution did not work out. Now I am discussing options and forwarding resumes.

I hate instability - I wanted to be here for more than a year. Now it’s looking like that isn’t an option.

My life could not be more complicated.

Um. It could - but I’m already feeling overwhelmed, so, like, it can just stay the way it is and not get worse, okay?

Tuesday night, I got very little sleep. My neighbor with whom I share a single wall has an alarm clock that went off at about 3 AM or so, and stayed on for hours. WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP for five hours straight. (It was my day to go in an hour later than everyone else.) I noticed about ten minutes after I finally struggled out of bed that the alarm was now silent and they were watching the news on TV.

HOW DO YOU SLEEP THROUGH FIVE HOURS OF AN ALARM CLOCK GOING OFF! I couldn’t even tune it out when it was muffled by a wall!

AND THEN. On top of all the stuff I won’t mention here because it could lead to various personages tracking me down and wreaking havoc on my life, I got a call at work the other day that nearly traumatized me.

“Hi, this is (name) at (property management place handling my rent check each month). I’m just calling to see if you’ve moved out yet? We have the 19th as your move-out date.”

The back of my mind: GUH. AAAAAAHHHHHHH! NYARRRRRRGH!

My mouth: WHAT? AM I BEING EVICTED?

Voice over the phone, muffled: “She sounds shocked.”

Various crashing rustling crinkling noises.

New voice on phone: “HI THERE, this is (name of a lady I actually remember), um, I’m so sorry, we’ve managed to cross up your apartment with (other address that’s COMPLETELY DIFFERENT except for the unit number) AGAIN, heh, I’m sooooo sorry.”

Me: So I don’t need a Uhaul and a bunch of therapy to get over the trauma?

Lady: “Oh, no, *chuckle*, no no no, I’m so sorry.”

And then my phone went berserk for the rest of the day and would not let me get voicemail. You do not know how crazy it made me thinking people in crisis might have left me voicemail I could not get. And then, I would leave my office and come back wondering if the impassioned voicemail I left for the help desk had resulted in a return call that got sent to voicemail. Maybe there was a voicemail about how to get into my voicemail? So I send an email about my voicemail. It righted itself eventually and the only voicemail I got… was nothing more than someone confused about an appointment time, which I’d already settled with them. Whew.

That was just yesterday.

This morning, I stumbled into the kitchen to find the first roach I have seen since the Bug Guy sprayed around.

HIDING UNDER THE ROACH MOTEL.

Reader, I squished him.

DEAR UNIVERSE, PLEASE STOP TRAUMATIZING ME, KTHXBYE.

CYNICAL CAT WOULD LIKE TO BE LEFT ALONE NAOW.

No links, no free press.

I have spent too much time this evening (when not making quiches, mmm, quiche lorraine) surfing around the links to kerfuffles regarding fanlib.com. This is the brainchild of people with Too Much Money and not enough savvy about fandom, not in the slightest, no way. The ads are ludricous and obviously aimed at what they think is their target audience - ergo, I find them WEIRD and ODD and somewhat EWWWW. The TOS is in no way satisfactory to anyone who wants to feel safe - they assume, apparently, that there are no people with knowledge of publishing in fandom (wrong! there are published authors in fandom) or maybe they are hoping the Barnum Principle is in their favor (there’s a fool born every minute). Or maybe they’ll just think they can bluff through all the flack - and there is lots of flack flying about. My favorite volley is in Lizbee’s livejournal.

They show no clue about the internet culture - spamming people with invites to join their community, and being all reassuring and cuddly without saying anything to satisfy anyone’s concerns about the TOS. Thinking they can get snippy in public, which is, anywhere Google can reach you. And it reaches. LJ is only the best rumor mill online.

It’s gone up at Making Light (blog by editors at TOR) as one of those funny sorts of things that happen on teh intarwebs for us to poke with a stick and laugh at. And indeed it is.

I’ll stay over here in the corner, thanks, guys. Have fun with your three million dollar website and the few thousand angry fen you’ve pissed off - hope you have a great firewall, some of those wacky fen have mighty geek-fu and less funded sites have been hacked for less reason.

Drink two glasses of wine, before eating.

Pay bills online.

Discover a decimal placement error that will slap you in the poorhouse, several hours later.

Panic.

Panic again, with visions of eviction.

Figure out how to cancel payment and reissue.

Stop panicking.

Fall into bed in a dead stupor.

And to think tomorrow will be a twelve hour day, if I’m lucky.

So as usual I am debating whether to post something about what’s going on. Wondering a) who really reads this anyway and b) whether they’re anyone I know in the flesh.

What’s going on? Stress. I should never go into such detail here that it’s recognizable, I’ve decided, so I’ll leave it at this: disagreements and condescension and manipulation and politics. I hate politics. I hate condescension. I try to be straight and fair, and honest with coworkers. I try to let petty things go. But this is not petty, and it’s unfair.

So, document and document and wait for things to settle down, or work themselves up to a sort of frenzied defend-myself level. I’ve seen this game before.

In other news, I’m swearing off many book purchases, limiting myself to one a month. Of course, I had to order 6 books for the one purchase. They’re mostly used, and less than 10 bucks a book, but still. I also requested ones I didn’t order from the library.

This weekend, for the first time in months, I am visiting the family. It’s not exactly going to be fun. I chose a two day weekend to limit the hours I had to spend gnawing mum’s iron grip off my ankle. She’s already complaining about that.

I had to sit in a training yesterday for most of the day. The dude couldn’t figure out powerpoint so I was yelling answers. Mum said I had to fix their new printer. I will never get away from computer geeking for others, I fear.

Updated Home in a Handbasket with some additional pages.

Am concerned about a variety of things, not the least of which is whether the post office is really going to deliver my mail.

Internet was down most of the day today. Bleh. I had to argue with tech support - just because it said ‘wrong password’ didn’t mean I was typing it wrong. Also, if you have DSL, you also get dialup as part of the package, and the login is the same - tech tried to BS me about needing a different password for DSL. Uh, no, it worked before, regardless of my usage of dialup, it is the same either way. Just because my DSL abruptly stops working in the middle of surfing my usual blog rounds and you don’t have a clue what’s wrong, that does not mean you can make up crap just to sound knowledgable. All I wanted to know is whether they were having server issues, not to get a lecture about ‘you have to type it the same both times, ok?’ And for the eighty bajillionth time - I HAVE A MAC, stop telling me to use Windows software to do things, and HEY, your web page code is CRAP, it’s not my browser! As I recall the page didn’t load on the Windows box I used when setting up the router the first time, either.

Why yes, I hate calling tech support.

Saturday: move in. No power
Monday: power. Things aren’t working. Stove won’t heat things, dishwasher won’t wash things, various lights are not working, smoke detector missing battery… and a list of minor things that aren’t so important. No dial tone.
Tuesday: Sigh. Car coolant tank light comes on. Mechanic declares sensor stuck, sends me on my way with instructions to have it fixed at next oil change. “Pay attention to the thermostat instead.”
Wednesday: Figure out hot water not on under sink. Fixes dishwasher. Car getting hot while sitting at lights. Sigh. Refrigerator freezes salad fixings solid, ruining all the vegetables and creating a block of milk. Turn it down to room temperature and hope for the best. Double sigh.
Thursday: Stove finally comes on. Note also that sink has stopped leaking. Things still frozen. Car still acting hot at lights, but not overheating. Dial tone! But no DSL.
Friday: drive to OldTown. Car acts fine, as long as I’m on the freeway. Note before leaving that DSL works.
Saturday: workshop goes okay. The car nearly overheats while driving and while sitting at lights. Panic - stop at a chain auto repair place and receive reassurance that if the fan is coming on I will be okay until I get back to my mechanic. Check fluids - car has burned through half a quart of oil and coolant tank is… empty. Note stains on engine block. Wonder if fizzing engine was why people honked in my vicinity. Sigh. Go out to dinner with Roommate and get buzzed, watch movies, wait til next morning when WalMart is open and I can get coolant.
Sunday: Wake up with cat on chest. Get coolant and bagel and coffee (not all at WalMart) and fill tank, screwing down cap as hard as possibly can. Re-check oil. Fill car with forgotten items. Drive like a bat outta on freeway - new washer and dryer will be delivered sometime today. Note car is running cooler than it has in months, even though coolant low light stil blinks, curse self for being ignorant car owner. Reach north end of New Town - receive call from appliance delivery guy. Stall him. Show up just as new washer and dryer are being unboxed in the street. Spend rest of day washing and drying everything - dishes in dishwasher, clothes/sheets/towels in new wonderful efficient washer that seems able to scrape away the layers of cat hair to find the clothing within.

Note to self: ask mechanic for steep discount, due to his having left the cap loose and causing much panic and engine wear.

Download shows, noting there is no broadcast tv in New Town and that satellite or cable will in fact be necessary if I want to sit idly channel surfing, or watch the news.

Siiiiiiiiiiigh.

After I hit ‘publish,’ I mean.

I feel like I am trapped in a time warp. No internet access for a week? I lose all touch with chronology. Add the time change (what daylight are we saving again?) and days of trainings and talking to people I don’t know about things I don’t understand completely yet, and whee!

Serendipity, so generous with the free fridge (see previous posting made from Friend’s house), has left me in the lurch. I am only now recovering, and slowly. The power was turned on Monday after a whining phone call to Huge Corporate Utility Company, and my cat, after two days and nights in a cold empty apartment alone, was absolutely worshipful when I deigned to actually sleep in my bed. She purred for two hours straight - I am actually underestimating this, probably, as I wasn’t timing her and she was purring when I woke up the next morning too.

The phone company said my service was on, but alas, no dial tone - so they blamed inside wiring, which lets them off the hook. I just waited til today, when the dude was supposed to physically show up and get me DSL. Dude must have noticed no actual phone service and hooked me up, as I expected he would. But, still no DSL, which is why I’m on dialup trying to pay the bills online before my cell phone provider repos my phone and my credit card adds a late fee. I came home to an actual phone message on the machine that’s been plugged into the wall since Monday - the phone company, telling me there’s a problem with my cabling so DSL will have to wait a while longer. I’m already sweating the loss of Lost, which has re-engaged me only because of the plight of Desmond and the endless curiosity about what the frak will happen to Locke, who totally made me angry last season but has now become something of a tragic character to me - if only because he’s so in need of serious therapy. I hope DSL happens in time to catch BSG. Of course, I’ll be driving to Fresno tomorrow night, partially to pick up items such as my microwave, which conveniently got left in the apartment when we loaded the Uhaul…

…which precipitated a whole week of eating out for breakfast, lunch and dinner, because… my stove doesn’t work, which I didn’t know over the weekend because the power was off, and with no way to heat water for tea/coffee? reheat leftover chinese? boil pasta? Heh. My kitchen is where I go to be frustrated by all the dishes I’ve kept in storage and need washing.

Becaaaaaause, my dishwasher didn’t work, either.

And at this point I nearly blew a gasket and left a message on my property manager’s voicemail. Holes in window screens are to be expected. Not being able to shift dead spiders and white filmy gick out of my glasses in a single run of the dishwasher was just icing on the I-hate-moving cake.

I realized while typing all this just how much emotional turmoil I’ve been going through. It’s difficult to move from an environment where no one pays any attention to you to an office where the support staff knock on your open door, approach you with respect and snap to it when you ask them for something — just a few months ago, I was support staff. It’s difficult to be in a town where you don’t know how to drive or which lane to be in — that sounds trivial, but if you get in the wrong lane, you have miles of stop and go traffic just to find a u-turn opportunity, because it’s bumper to bumper here all day. And, my car is slowly coming to pieces. Neither of the back windows work - I have the feeling the motors are disconnected from the whatever-holds-them-up, and one of them slides downward while I’m driving. The coolant tank idiot light comes on all the time. It’s full, and the car’s fine, but it flashes like I’m running a disco on my dashboard. I took it to a mechanic who said it was a sensor and I’d have to have the reservoir replaced to fix it, which isn’t a big deal. Except, where it used to run with the needle right between C and H, now it gets really hot and the fan comes on every ten minutes, where it used to never come on at all.

And, no furniture. Nothing on the walls. Just me, the bird, the cat, and lots of books. On top of everything I miss my roommate.

The laundry’s piling up. My washer and dryer come on Sunday.

The good news? Well, I still like my job. I’m calling to set up appointments and finding some parents who will actually bring in their kids. I have another friend who’s interviewing for jobs in NewTown as well. My new apartment is quiet at night. My renter’s insurance actually dropped in price with the move. (My car insurance went up - go figure. Probably due to fender benders, which I’m betting happen all the time around here in stop-n-go city.) And I figured out the dishwasher didn’t work because the hot water was turned off under the sink. They’re bringing someone in to fix the stove soon, and I’ll have a microwave by Saturday night.

I feel like I’ve been gone somewhere forever and ever, and it’s only been five days since my last post. I think I need to start keeping an actual journal.

ETA: The salad stuff is frozen. The milk is frozen. My fridge is too efficient and again with the nothing to eat.

And, well, now I have to drive to Fresno, but there’s DSL.

For the fourth or fifth (losing count these days) time in my life, I’m deciding to ignore the news sites and news radio and news on tv. They found JonBenet’s killer, and now it’s going to turn US news media into an endless cycle of specials, bulletins, and 24/7 coverage that borders on assault.

I do not need to hear about the guy in intimate detail. I don’t need to hear about his history as a sex offender, his spotty job performance, his habit of eating kittens for lunch, his horrible childhood, his bad wardrobe choices or his ex-wife’s testimonial as to his impotence or general inability to be a man. I do not need to hear the neighbors he’s had in the past 20 years exclaiming that he was ’such a nice man.’ I do not need to hear townspeople exclaiming how they suspected it was him because x, y and z. I do not need to hear from the police who found him nekkid in a back alley in Bangkok with a child prostitute. I do not need to know his favorite website was Myspace, he was left-handed, he was Republican, he was OMG! feeling so guilty! never would have hurt her! I do not need to hear endless jokes and top ten lists. I do not need to see his face photoshopped into images or videos. I do not need to see endless posting across the internet as to how he should be punished, whether beheading is too good for the SOB or whether he’s just sick and misunderstood.

I only needed to know he’s been caught. I’m actually relieved, for the dad’s sake.

Now can we move on to catch some other child-killer?

Note: I don’t know that any of this is true. Some details I’ve seen mentioned in blurbs, the rest I made up, but I really don’t know. Because I don’t want to. Because I have better things to do than waste energy sharing yet another cultural obsession.

Either way, I won’t be participating in the bread and circuses.

My roommate is hitting the big 4-0 tomorrow.

I’ve been trying for a couple of months now to figure out what to do - it’s one of those landmark birthdays, after all. I wanted a surprise party. He’s hard to do that for, however, due to his completely wonky work schedule and complete lack of planning - which is contradictory, considering how terribly anal he is about things, but there it is. For weeks, casual interested questions into his activity for this week have been met with “I might go here” and “maybe I’ll be there” and “I think I’ll do x” and none of it has helped me pin down a likely time and place to pull something off. He’s been (so far as I can tell, it’s hard to know when he’s changed his story 80 times) in SF with relatives, in Sacramento with his dad for father’s day, and called this morning to say he’d be back here around three or so. The reason he called was to ask about what type of DVD player he should get to play divx videos (I think my burgeoning collection is too tempting for him) and that he’s thinking about stopping at Fries, which store we do not have here in Dust Bowl, Central Calif. After some name brand dithering, I informed him that the model he’s looking at in the Fries ad is twenty bucks cheaper at Costco right now, and it’s much easier to return the thing to Costco than drive back to SF to Fries, if it doesn’t work.

I don’t think he suspects anything is up — at least not tonight. Because today’s the day before his birthday, and also, I’ve been lobbing suggestions of a trip to the coast, to the aquarium, to walk around at Point Lobos where the temps are not 110F in the shade (I think I’m going to break some sort of world record for drinking ice tea any time now).

But, I just sweated for two hours in my AC-less car to buy balloons and a present and leave them at his favorite sushi restaurant, whose proprieter he knows, and I’ve made calls to pretty much everyone in the area he knows well enough to drink sake with, and somewhere around 5:45 I’m going to pry him out the door and head that direction, wailing that he never takes me for sushi any more and let’s do that tonight since we’ve nothing better to do.

I wonder how much sake it will take to get him to sing karaoke?

I’m starting to worry about the whole hooding ceremony thing. Last weekend I printed up invitations/announcements, because you invite people to watch you shake hands and hug and get the Fake Diploma until the real one arrives. Otherwise what’s the point of doing it?

I haven’t sent any yet. Oh, it’s not postage, not lack of time - I could get ‘em out tonight. It’s the knowledge that the instant those folks I want to invite meet those folks I should invite, things will get hinky. I will be mixing an old boss, a current clinical supervisor, friends of various origin, Roommate, and my family. And of course I am quite specifically concerned about my mother. My brother and his wife walk in the daylight with the rest of the world and have decent manners, and they’ll keep adopted nephew under control. My dad will be mostly silent and grinning ear to ear as he tries not to shake overmuch with the Parkinsons. But, you can’t control Mom, and she’ll blurt something out or cry or lecture me for eighty zillion hours after it’s all said and done about the quality of my friends, the EVIL of sharing a kitchen and living room with a MAN who is not legally my spouse, and generally make me want to slap her. I haven’t spoken to her in months (by her choice) and I’m sure it’s all bottled up in there just waiting for a trigger.

But. I cannot invite the mom I want her to be - the one who has a life other than nagging/herding/dominating her kids into molds she deems appropriate. I’m left with the one I have, who’s done a decent job raising kids with limited resources, left too many problems to resolve themselves, and intentionally ignored some of the most damaging emotional issues — but when it’s all said and done she is still Mom. Good and bad. I’ve finally recognized something — for her to change now would mean she could have changed years and years ago, and she didn’t, and that would leave her with a lot of agita and a ton of self condemnation, and so her ego maintains itself much as it always has, and I’ll have to live with it.

So I’ll send the invitation and she’ll come or not depending on her level of anxiety, and I’ll walk across a stage, say thanks to all and sundry, jump up and down a few times, cartwheel, moonwalk, and jig off down the steps with a masters. And if she warbles some passive aggressive thing in the general direction of myself or one of my profs, well, we’re all mental health professionals — I’m sure we’ll be fine. We’ve all seen a lot of dysfunction before.

Funny how impassive I can be in the presence of an angry schizophrenic, yet just thinking of my own mother in the same room with my crazy friend T gives me a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach.

Not the unofficial war in Iraq (Congress didn’t declare war, and you can’t declare war on some group of people that isn’t a country). The one for my parking space.

Two and a half years ago, we were assigned a covered stall, at the far end of our building. I remember being curious about the placement of the stall - the one furthest from us - but since ‘furthest’ involved a difference of all of six feet, who cares? Last month a group of college kids moved in and brought with them four or five cars, plus those of transient friends, and they’ve been using all three covered stalls as much as they are here.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if there weren’t a few move-ins. All the uncovered spots are usually full by the time I get home after yoga/Tuesday night class. There’s a guy in the next building over competing for a nice large parallel parking area in front of my window - his huge black Escalade vs. my neighbor’s F150. Roommate and I have decided that the first one home grabs any open spot, and leaves the covered stall for the other, which only works if the spot is actually free.

To make matters worse, a series of notes has established that the kids think our spot of long standing is theirs and WE should check with the management. Which, okay, we will. But I have the feeling either the management made a mistake and double-booked a single spot, and/or the kid is hanging tough, cause they’re using ALL the spots and have no cause to get lippy. One spot per apartment, kids. Tell your friends.

So the next edict they get will come from management, and the next random Nissan will get towed, because I don’t want to fight about it.

I have the feeling I’m more stressed about this than I would normally be because of all the anxiety of last Friday. But I’m gonna settle what I can settle.

ETA: and wala! in fact, the management of 2 years ago gave us the wrong space. Still not caring. Just want A space. They’re supposed to issue a letter to the occupants of the three apartments delineating which is whose, and that should be the final word in “stay out of my parking spot.” Don’t make me come over there!

1. studied with a friend for the certification test for … six hours or so. We took breaks for yoga and dinner and margaritas. I think next time I will make the margaritas — I was pretty lightheaded for a while and started reading the material aloud in cartoon voices. One margarita shouldn’t do that.

2. spent two hours with a client who ended up being committed. It’s my first time dealing with that, and I was the only therapist in the office on a Friday afternoon. I think in future that client will be showing up on Tuesdays when we have a full house from now on. It was wrenching to watch EMTs trying to hold down someone I’m fond of. Kept me up late and slept in late, so only showed up in time for an hour of yoga Saturday morning instead of the two hours I’d hoped for. Still recovering; at least I’m not endlessly mulling over and planning out the next conversation with Client as I was Friday night.

3. the crisis interrupted a discussion with a therapist who is arranging office space, so that on Thursdays I can see children. It’s going to be an hour each way commute. I still have details to iron out and paperwork to complete so the hours count. I’m a little worried about what the therapist/supervisor thought of me disappearing like that, but at the time I was afraid to leave Client alone.

4. my roommate departed for LA to attend a training on Friday morning. Empty apartments are not good for anxious people. I will use this experience to inform my treatment of anxiety ridden clients, no doubt.

5. Going to get storage media today. Debating between another external drive and lots of DVDRWs. Don’t forget to back up soon.

A lot happened at the clinic this week. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you anything about it. But I can hint.

1. I need a better resume.
2. There are a lot of phone calls in my future.
3. I haven’t panicked yet, but it may happen within the month…..
4. Four weeks, and I still have the cough - unrelated to the first three, but nearly as bothersome, specially since medical stuff gets expensive and I’m likely leaving the job in a couple weeks.

Also unfortunately, I failed to write a durn thing.