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February 3, 2009

I haven’t been posting hardly ever these days. Been almost a month since the last. Sorry, for those who actually enjoy this thing.

So, what’s new? Not much with me, still. March is coming, and the apartment hunt will hopefully begin soon. Waiting on another W-2 so I can file my taxes and hopefully receive enough cash to get one. Then the work issue needs to be addressed. Only real issue is not enough hours. I’m lucky to get 24 these days.

But before that happens, I will have a birthday. I will be 29 on said day. I will no longer be able to stretch the truth a little and say I’m in my mid 20s. I will have to say I’m almost 30. Another year of life down and another step closer to the last one. Yeah, it’s depressing talk, but it explains the massive influx of panic attacks recently. It doesn’t help a coworker died last week. Ros was a kind old lady and will be missed.

It freaked me out for about three hours really badly. I barely talked most of the day, and had to take an early break to just cry. I had worked with Rosalyn for over a year. The best story I have about her shows her kindness to a guy that regularly threatened to push her down and break her hip, cause she kept walking behind me and almost making us both fall. She knew I didn’t mean it and would just laugh. That was Ros. One Thursday I went to get my paycheck, and this was after I lost my car, so i waited for the bus. The weather was nice and I didn’t mind, but a car stopped and Ros was there asking if I need a ride. I wasn’t working, she didn’t even know I had come, but she saw me sitting at the side of the road and turned her car around. She drove me home, even though hers was about the same distance from work in the opposite direction. I drive her old car, when I borrow Particleboy’s car, because he bought it from her. When he met her he just came home and went on about how nice she was.

Rosalyn will be missed by me. Work wasn’t ever too bad when she was there. But it freaks me out, how she died. Ros always coughed. She had asthma and smoked for years, so no one was surprised. She seemed about as healthy as a person in their early 60s who did that could be expected to be. Wasn’t complaining of any problems. We couldn’t figure out what could possibly have killed her. It turns out it was NyQuil. She took some before bed and choked on it. Her son heard her coughing, but like I said she always did so he thought nothing of it. The wake was delayed by snow, but I want to go. I feel I need to pay my respects and maybe help overcome my own anxiety. Nothing is ever completely selfless, people. I hope if there’s a chance to talk I can stand up and tell the story about the ride home. If not, that’s okay. I will remember that for quite a while yet.

The apartment situation is because Sasquatch wants his own place. Since he never has had his own I can’t blame him for that and wish him well in it. He needs that experience, and coupled with his recent finding of a sort of fuckbuddy, it will help him get over some shit. (I say almost because they do go out on dates, but when she stayed the night once we all went to breakfast and they paid separate. I paid for Karen’s, but then again we’re not having sex so it makes no difference.)

Part 2 of the apartment is Particleboy. He’s had a rough year, which I won’t go into here. If you know him, you know about it, and nobody else needs to know. He may move up to Baltimore and try to get on his feet there. He has family there, so he’ll at least have a place to sleep. I hope. If not, he seems to want his own place, too. Again, he’s never had his own place so I can’t blame him.

Me? I’m scared shitless about all of this. I don’t have the money for an apartment on my own. I can’t get the application fee, deposit, or first month’s rent together very easily. I don’t have a checking account right now. I don’t have a decent job with stable hours. I don’t want to live in a cheaper place that may be unsafe for my son. Living alone has never bothered me. Even now, I mostly keep to myself. I play games, watch movies, and write behind a closed bedroom door. I’m going to miss living with them, though. Random roommates walking into my room and making with the funny is priceless. Also, harassing Sasquatch’s FB the morning after a romp can be quite hilarious.

On that note, I have options. I’m sure I could crash with my parents if I had to. Karen’s mom has offered for me to stay with them til I can get a place. Both are an extreme last resort, particularly the former. Mostly because I don’t accept charity easily. It’s not because people expect something in return. Of course they would, whether it be cleaning duties or helping with the rent or something in between. I hate to be a burden. I’ve also made it this far a lot on my own, and I like that fact. Despite everything, all the pitfalls, shortcomings, and terrible decision making, I have been able to keep a roof over my head. On my own. It wasn’t always easy, but I did it.

In other news, I’m learning to play the harmonica. I figure, after a couple years I’m still bad at the guitar so maybe I need to try another instrument. I’m also picking Blender back up to try and get my 3d modelling skills back up. They were never great, but I was decent at it. I also enjoy it immensely. I can sit for hours doing just tweaking the points on a box. Which sounds dirty now that I’ve typed it.

I still fancy myself an artist of sorts, and am convinced I just haven’t found my medium, yet. Karen, on the other hand, is now an award winning artist. She welded a sculpture of a hand and won a local competition. If it wins the next round in NYC, it gets put in a museum in Washington DC. It currently resides in the Kentucky Center for the Arts, I believe, here in Louisville. That’s pretty damned cool. Art may be personal and done for no other reason than your own satisfaction, but it’s nice to get recognized once in a while.

And that’s where everything sits at the moment. Nothing exciting in either a great or terrible way. Kind of nice, but hopefully the panic attacks subside after my birthday. Also, I need a haircut badly and this post was over 1200 words. Wish I could write like this all the time.

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One comment

  1. Good to hear from you again. I know how you feel about the moving thing. My husband and I, and our daughter of course, are now moving out of our Dundee apartment and back in with his father in this dinky little town out in the country. Not so bad for Felix Rose but madness inducing for me. Hopefully it’s just a short stay while we get our benefits sorted out and find a place in Aberdeen, but it still feels like a step back. Still, that’s what family is for, really – and we’ll be buying our own groceries and paying for electricity. Ewen’s dad wants us to have the master bedroom though, since he doesn’t need as much space – but that would feel very weird, like we’ve taken over his house.

    In any case, glad to see you’re still doing well. I look forward to pictures of your various projects.



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