Too much Thinking. Again.

One of my favourite quotes, talks about dreaming, something I do a lot of.

"If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time."
--Marcel Proust

This is one of the things that I struggle with. I also struggle with fear of failure and chronic pain that kicks my ass on a daily basis. Though, sometimes, I kick it's ass. Like yesterday. Yesterday was a good day. But, as payment, today I'm exhausted. I'm still hoping to do something with myself. We'll see.

But dreaming. Dreaming I do a lot. I dream about simple things, like tattoos I want, how life would be different if I just have the energy and nerve to go to the gym (no really), I dream about being braver, being obese rather than morbidly obese, about pretty shoes I'll never be able to wear (I have no arches).

I dream big too. I dream about what life would be like if I'd made different decisions, if I was a different person -- this is often where many of my stories come from, or at least how I flesh them out to make them feel real. I dream about being a writer. About being published. Of course my actual issue is finding the energy/time/creativity/bravery to actually write, to allow myself the possibility of failure. I have such a hard time with failure...

Proust is right though. They key is to dream all the time. If I did, I'd write. I'd look at my fear, face it down, and just keep going. I'd fight, I'd find the motivation, somewhere, somehow, and I'd fight. Fight the pain, fight the exhaustion, fight the fear, fight the doubt that screams in my head.

But how does one do that? How does one dream all the time? Is it even possible? Is it selfish??

Oh how I want to write. I want to write modern love stores, sex stories, mysteries, life stories. The mundane and the fantastic swirl in my head, and come out in my dreams. I want to put them on the page, I want to make them come alive in words. I want to share them with the world.

But if I'm going to write, perhaps I should look to write for money. Freelance? Make some small amount of money writing crap for hire. Ugh. I find it horribly distasteful, but as my husband pointed out, he wouldn't pick his job, if he had money enough not to work. Work is work, it's not fun, it's not something you enjoy, it's not something you may even like, but it gets you money so you can sleep in a warm bed and eat regularly. Reality shitting all over my dreams.

I have so little energy. So often I pick doing dishes, getting groceries, making food, instead of going to the gym, or sewing those curtains that have been sitting there for a year, or doing something for me. Writing is just sitting at my laptop, which I do already, but, it's still work. I still require my brain to be with me, I still require a pain level that doesn't blur my vision (yes, this can be an issue). Writing still turns my brain to mush after a few hours.

So do I dream, or do I let reality shape me? Ugh.

I mean, I take November, and I let writing be my job. I attempt to write for eight hours a day, sometimes more, because my muse, she doesn't show up when I want her to, she's like a cat, she comes and goes at her will. The point is, that month, I put everything else on hold to write. Because, you know what? Being chronically ill means, I just don't have the energy to write all day AND do dishes, buy groceries, clean the apartment (a job I find difficult when not working), watch our budget, or do fun things like, spend time with my husband, or knit or read or craft.

One thing Nano has taught me is, I can't write 'full time'. I just can't put in that many hours. I'm just not capable. I don't like letting everything else go. There needs to be balance. I just don't have a clue what that is yet. So I haven't written since then. December was devoted to Christmas. And these past two weeks?  I've been dreaming a lot about the various stories I want to write. I've also been trying to get our lives more in order, and I've been dealing with some very painful times.

I want to dream. Oh how I want to dream. In my dream, my writing eventually pays off, in that, I make some money, not a lot, but some. I've never dreamed so big as to think I'd be in line with the greats, with the women writers I love, but, man, would I love to be a footnote. I'd just like to see something I write, eventually be in print. Like actual print. Though, the first step, I think, is online publishing. Getting my work on someone's kindle, ya know?  I want to be read. I don't care if all it ever brings in is pennies. I want to be read. I want.... I want to be a writer. I have since I was a kid. I still have the same problem, I still have trouble with actually getting it done. I guess, the real issue is giving it time, taking time to write. Allowing myself the time, and space to fail, to write really badly, to learn from it and get better.

I sit here thinking about it and worrying. Worrying if I take the time, if I make it a priority, if I write what I want, my husband will get upset with me. If I can use my limited energy to do something that doesn't get me a paycheck, then I should use that energy to find a way to make us some money. I don't even know how to go about finding freelance work. I looked once, and was totally overwhelmed. I don't have ANY experience. There's nothing I can put in a portfolio. I've done some technical writing, but everything I've written was under a non-disclosure agreement, and so long ago anyway, that I don't know if I could do it again. Not well. So how do I manage to get someone to hire me?! No clue. Man do I feel unemployable.

Thinking Too Much. Again.

I just got the 'you should be making money, not living your dreams, you need income' lecture.

*sigh*

Ironic really since, just this morning I was thinking, that maybe, just maybe I could do what I've always wanted instead of what I was schooled for. I thought it was amusing that I went to school, to secure a career with a steady pay, but since I'm now chronically ill and totally incapable of working full time, I might actually be able peruse what I wanted to.

I've always wanted to write, but I've never liked the insecurity, the knowledge that I may never get paid enough to live one, the knowledge that creative writing won't feed you, and you'll have to have a 'day job' to fall back on, or learn how to be a commercial writer.

My husband just suggested I seek out freelance work to write crappy websites.

I'm ethically against ad farm websites with dubious and badly written content, just on principle; they're sneaky and sleazy.  Besides that, I'm not actually sure I could write that sort of content. What I mean is, I'm not sure I have any writing skills outside of the creative writing field.

There is of course, pay by the story options. Maybe? Someday?

Right now I'm just beginning to learn how to write. I feel like I'm a toddler, trying to pick out a career. I.... I don't feel ready for that?

All I really want right now is to finish my nano story, let it rest a bit, and then attempt editing it. I've never edited anything half so large. I think it will be a huge undertaking and learning experience.

I also really want to read more on the art, the science of writing and editing. Maybe take a course on mystery/suspense writing, and the one on writing for women and selling it - that one is sounding more and more like something I need to learn.

I want to sell my work. I really do. But I'm not even sure right now what kind of stories I'm capable of writing. I don't want to be some literary genius, I just want to write things I'm mostly proud of, things that others will read and enjoy. I'm perfectly happy being the cotton candy of the writing world. I love cotton candy!

It's been almost a year since I took the creative writing course. I haven't accomplished much since then. I haven't done any of the reading I'd hope to. Life has intruded. Also, a deep love affair with the cotton candy of the writing world. I have read so many romance novels! And most of them were yummy. I'm not entirely sure what I learned, except that I really love simple, cheesy, cotton candy romance stories.

My tummy hates me tonight. I'm not at all sure why it's angry like it is. I haven't eaten anything to set it off. But I know how I'm feeling isn't helping. Right now I'm feeling very guilty and worried.

Guilty for being a penniless burden. Guilty for wanting to live my dream instead of trudging to make some amount of money. I want to believe that living my dream, that writing what my soul wants to, would lead to money, but I know it wouldn't do it as fast as if I just sought out freelance work and wrote, gods knows what. Hell, I feel guilty for wanting to write instead of doing other useful things like getting groceries, doing dishes, cleaning our apartment, doing laundry. I can't do both, at least, I can't write mostly full time AND do errands or anything else. Nano has taught me that getting 100 pages in a month means ignoring everything else in my life. I can't keep that up long term, I'd burn our or contract some filth-related disease.

I'm worried my husband is finally starting to understand the burden he's placed on himself (me). Worried that he's worried about money. Worried that he feels the pinch of having a useless wife, and is, understandably blaming me for not helping out. I'm worried that I'm being totally selfish even considering trying to become an author. Being married to an author sucks, authors don't make a lot, but work a lot, and me, I work best at night - he might as well be single. As mentioned above, if I were to take a more serious attempt at being an writer, I'd have to devote time otherwise spent taking care of us. *sigh*

I feel utter selfish for wanting to live a dream. Just because I live with chronic illness, and my life is pain, doesn't mean I'm entitled to anything. As my husband pointed out, he wouldn't be doing what he does if it wasn't for the paycheck. I have no right to expect to like my job, never mind love it. I have no right to peruse something that won't help us financially.

I'm beginning to wonder if I should just give up this silly idea, and look for part time work a chronically ill person might be capable of. Clearly, I need to be making money, not living some foolish childhood dream. I'm an adult now. I didn't pick a field I loved in the first place, I picked one I thought would get me a steady pay check. I need to put that goal first again. Just because I'm chronically ill doesn't relieve me of the duty and need to actually support myself. Dreams are for bedtime. Work is for waking hours.

Fibromyalgia Sucks!

I know, That's^^ a pretty damn obvious statement to anyone who knows what it is. But today I guess I'm just extra frustrated.

Nausea and pain seem to come hand in hand these days. Though today the nausea came first. Not 3 minutes later the pain came. Stupid headache that spreads it's tentacles down my neck and shoulders. I'm sure it's tension. I get the same fucking headache almost every day.... for the past two days at least it's been at almost exactly the same time. Really really odd that. I have no idea why.

Together the pain and the nausea are pretty crippling. I loose all my patience because of the pain, and I lose any gumption I may have mustered (on any given day) when the nausea hits. Right now I really want to just curl up in a ball and be unconscious. :(

I hate being this useless. I hate being so fucking crippled by a syndrome. Fucking fibro. It sucks I tell you.

If I take something for the pain, and it helps (always questionable), then the nausea will likely ease, but what to take? These days tylenol 2s are actually helping again, but I don't want to waste their usefulness on every piddling headache, I save it for the ones that make me feel like I'm going to loose what shred of sanity I have left. Ibuprofen doesn't seem to help anymore, so there isn't really anything else left to me. I mean, I could try it, or the robax platinum I have, but that only worked very marginally to begin with. It hasn't actually helped in months. :(

I just feel so very alone in it all. Fibro doesn't present in a way anyone can see and it makes me feel like no one really believes me. That people just think I'm lazy or unambitious or just plain a waste of space. I feel like a waste of space! And it's actually true, I'm not ambitious! But I would love to be able to work a regular full time job, be useful, make money, contribute to our little family in an actually meaningful way. But it's just not in the cards for me right now. And realistically, it may never be in the cards. I fully realise I'm likely going to be the reason we don't/can't afford the house Chris wants to very much. Without income from me, I just don't think we can swing it. Not in this city. *sigh* I feel the weight of my failure. And I see the looks of disbelief and judgment, even from those that I thought would understand. :(

Chris is great. I should say. He's more than great, he's amazing. He's actually okay with me not working if I can't. He just wants me to be happy and to get healthy, or at least as healthy as I can. He well and truly is just happy to have me around! How
sweet is that?! I have no idea how I lucked out so utterly, but I'm really really glad I did!

Still. I feel useless. I am useless. And I hate it...though not enough to 'soldier through' and force myself to do things when I feel like I'm going to vomit, or my head is going to fall off.

I have to say, my iq/intelligence really drops when I'm in this much pain. It's so damn hard to think. and in many ways I loose my patience to even try to think things through. I can't read more than a few short sentences with loosing all patience with whatever I'm reading. Never mind how hard it becomes to grasp what I'm reading. I really don't like feeling stupid. But the pain makes me even more vapid than I normally am. *sigh*

I know, I know, pity party, it doesn't do anyone any good. I'm just not strong like some people. I can't endure like I used to. I don't have the strength, the determination, or the endurance. It all feels so damn hopeless to me. I"m never going to be that person again, and if I don't manage that,t hen I'm never going to manage the gumption needed to dig myself out of this damn hole I'm in. Bah. Bah, I say.

Tattoo Healing, or rather Not Healing

I don't think I can do this again. I really don't. It shouldn't hurt this badly. My skin, the skin around the edge of one side of the tattoo feels like it's on fire. Like, literally, burning in the flames, the air hurts, on fire. It's hot, and so tender, and OW. I've never had a tattoo act like this. I've never been so fucking sensitive. I think the fibro is just totally fucking with me.

I was in the shower today, washing the tattoo, just with my hand and some non-sented hypo-allergenic soap, and this huge piece of...I don't know what just came off on my fingers. It was green and shaded. Clearly it'd come from the lily pad. It had a bit of goo out the outside, not that I was surprised as it's been lymphing for almost a week straight now, and it was very solid feeling, like it was a piece of flesh that I'd lost, which, honestly maybe it was. When I got out of the shower, I looked at my tattoo, and wouldn't you know it, part of the lily pad looks like a fucking blow torch was taken to it. Some of the colour was just gone! Now, this was a cover-up. The damn lily pad was already there. And now... now it's not.

what. the. fuck.

I'm so freaked out. So so so freaked out. What if I can't heal a tattoo anymore? What if what's left of the scabs just lift all the colour right out? What then? What do I fucking do? Do I get Rick to try again? I mean, how can I possibly leave it? It will look worse than awful. It will look like someone took fucking acid to my skin!! But what if I just can't heal it?? I mean, even after I sit through, and endure what I'm sure will be excruciating pain of a touch up, what if, even then it heals like acid scars?? What do I do??????

I'm so...disheartened. All that pain... All that pain for nothing. For worse than nothing. I've lost something I already had. It was just sort of a crappy, awkward tattoo, not good, but not that bad. But now..... Now I'm going to have an acid scarred tattoo, with white blotches, and skin that's healed so poorly it's ugly all on it's own. *sobs*

I love tattoos! I was so very much hoping to get more. I wanted to get a back piece some day. I wanted another thigh piece on the left to balance out the right. I wanted to get cute little sparrows for my mom, and roses for my Pa. I wanted a Cheshire Cat's smile so I could carry a bit of one of my best friends around with me always. Hell, I was even thinking of getting a 'fuck you fibro/I can fight this' tattoo.

But apparently I can't. I can't fight this at all. It's kicking my ass and I'm loosing yet more of my life, yet more of myself.

I feel beaten and broken. I am beaten and broken. The red hot swollen skin, and the disaster of a tattoo say that better than anything else.

I just want to cry. But I'm actually too sad, too lost. I hate that fibro has stolen this from me too. I've wanted another tattoo for years now. Wanted it so badly. It never even occurred to me that I just couldn't do it, that my body would betray me like this. I'm so.....angry. Fucking fibro.

I can't do anything. I can't work, I'm way too sore and I have so little energy that it's just not possible. Fuck, I consider it a good when I have enough energy to go to the gym or to go get groceries. OR. That's right, I can't fucking do both in one day. It's too much. My body won't let me. I'm a fucking useless cripple. I can't even remotely be who I want to be. Fuck I hate this. I hate what my life has become and how fucking little control I have over all of it.

I hate this. I just hate it. I'm fucking powerless to make any kind of real fucking change. I'm at the fucking whim of a gods damn 'syndrome' that doctors like to argue about whether it fucking exists or not. Gr. At least my doctor thinks it does, though it doesn't do me much good. I still hurt. I'm still exhausted all the time. I'm still fucking useless.

Fuck I hate this so much. So so much.

Chocolate

I'm feeling low. It's cold and miserable outside, my knees are screaming at me for making them do so many sets of stairs and January is looming like a great dark cloud over me.

January is the three year anniversary of being laid-off, the last time I worked a real, full-time job. I've worked a bit of part-time retail here and there, but that's it. I don't consider the retail work, "real" jobs. They don't pay enough to keep a dog alive, never mind an adult human. I really regret working the retail in fact. If it wasn't for that, I may still have half-way decent feet. Instead mine are a fucking mess and it's directly a result of working retail. But it's January that looms. Three years in a long time.

I feel so useless; so utterly hopeless. Who's going to hire me with a three year gap in my resume?! Even if the economy wasn't shaky, that's damn odd. But I can't change it. I haven't worked in three years. And I feel fucking useless. Totally and completely fucked. I couldn't even get a job as a secretary. I've tried. No one was interested. No one but PT retail has shown any interest in three fucking years, and the only reason they were interested is because they are desperate for employees. Turnover rates in retail are high - the work is hell and the pay is crap.

I know what I want to do. I know what my dream job would be. And I know there isn't a fucking hope in hell I'll ever get the chance to do it. I don't feel qualified. I know, with a little training I could do it with ease, it's what I'm good at. But I don't even know if the job truly exists.... most people I know that have or have had that kind of job are not only the 'architect', but the 'builder' as well. I'm not technical enough for that. I couldn't build software to save my life. I am not a programmer. I doubt I'll ever be. I don't have the education, or the inclination. I'm not good with languages of any kind damnit. But I'm pretty good with people, and I'm good with documents. Hell, I'm even not bad ad debugging. But writing code? No, I can't do that. Perhaps someday, but it's honestly not likely. So I don't see how I'm going to make it as a business analyst.

Perhaps I should just give up, and try becoming... what? what can I do?! Secretary work?? I don't know if I could do that again. Too many memories of my coworkers and boss laughing at me fill my head when I think of that. I still haven't gotten over that. I don't know as I ever will.

Here I am moaning, when I meant to not think about all this. But I guess some things just can't be silenced. It weighs on me. I just don't know what to do. I feel so utterly hopeless, useless, and helpless to make any change or difference in my circumstances.

So much for having a degree. Useless fucking piece of paper. :(

Anyway. Better thoughts. There's fuck all I can do about it right now. I'm only going to make myself more upset thinking about it.

Chocolate. Did I write about Valentines day this year?? I really can't remember if I did. Chris bought me chocolates. He took me to this posh little place in Yorkville where he'd gotten me chocolate the Christmas before last. Yes, it was that good that I'd remembered and asked him to take me there again and again. I think he was saving it for Valentines day. I'm not big on the holiday, but I am big on chocolate. Ooo, what pretty things they have! And having tasted their chocolate bars I was eager to taste them. So eager I scarfed one down before I even thought to take a picture of the pretty chocolates when I got them home!



I then re-wrapped their box, so I could have a record of just how pretty they were wrapped. The gold box was very sturdy, and oh so pretty. The ribbon even has their name on it. Real ribbon. Not that fake plastic stuff. We did get them in Yorkville afterall. heh.



How pretty is that? And they were good too, I should add, the chocolates, that is. So yummy. The ones with the stripes had a vaugely limed flavour, they were refreshing. The ones with the coffee bean imprints had a bit of coffee flavour. I can't for the life of me remember what the ones with the round, uplifted circle on the tops were. I think the ones with the "the" written on them (only one is left in the picture above as I started with that one), was my favourite. Pure, sweet, but not too sweet, yummy chocolatey goodness, if I recall correctly. I enjoyed them though, that's for sure. It was the force of will alone that stopped me from eating them all that day. I could have, but those little buggers were expensive! woo.

Note Chris, since you're the only one that reads this, when you do read this, please don't think this is my 'subtle' way of asking for more. I just wanted a happy memory to push out the not at all happy one is all. Love you!

Minor Surgery

After five months of waiting to see the plastic surgeon, I finally had my appointment this last Thursday. He wasn't nearly so horrible as I thought/was worried he would be, so yay! He is very good at what he does though, and really that matters more than having a good bedside manner!

I asked about recovery - it's my biggest worry - and got a 'your milage may vary' kinda answer. Recovery can take anywhere from two weeks to two months. I'm personally hoping it's NOT two months!

It's minor surgery so it's done in his clinic, under local numbing agents, so I'll be awake. I didn't ask how long it would take, never really occured to me to ask actually... I was really only focused on recovery and what to do after. I have an instruction sheet, and they will go over everything with me when I come in for the procedure.

Since I waited five months just to see the man, I asked to book the surgery asap. I didn't want to be waiting another five months! Turns out, for once, asap, really is soon! I have an appointment for 12:45pm on Friday June 13th! That's like, not this Friday, but the one following! Crazy soon!

I won't be getting Chris' sweater finished by then, he knows and is okay with that. I'll finish it when I can. Hopefully my hand will be enough better by the fall that I can knit again!

I had to tell my new manager, on my second shift at work no less, that I had an appointment for surgery much sooner than expected and wasn't sure just how long I would be out of commision. The talk thankfully went so much better than expected! She was relieved in a way. See, she was told to hire extra help, which she did, then she was told her sales weren't good so they cut her hours, now she has people she can't actually give shifts to. One of the other girls will happily take my like one shift a week therefore. She told me to keep her posted and by the time I am ready to come back she will likley have more hours for me. I was really worried about how that talk would go, so relieved it went well!

I am still looking for other work. Better work. Work that can, you know, actually give me hours and such. I'd love a full time job. I keep applying for anything I'm remotely qualified for. Right now though, since finding out about my surgery date, I'm kinda wondering if I should still keep looking.... At least for the next few weeks. Cause like, if even by some miracle someone DID want to hire me, I'm going to soon be in no condition to do any kind of work... I think I will keep looking, but I think until at least a week after surgery - when I will have a better idea (I hope) of my recovery time, I'm going to look, but only apply if it's really something I want.

One Step Closer!

So I had two interviews yesterday. I think they went fairly well. One was with a manager of ladies wear at The Bay on Bloor St., the other was with Crate & Barrel. Retail I know. But it's work. And at least it's not boring!

The Bay interview was my second with The Bay. The lady that interviewed me today said the lady that did so last time really liked me! So yay. And I ended up getting a job offer for PT work, which I of course took. Not sure how many hours I'm going to get or what not... We'll see. Chris and I have decided to play it by ear, easiest/smartest thing to do for right now I think.

Oh, and I mean play it by ear in terms of where I live. Obviously working in Toronto means I'll be staying here with him during the days that I work, and going home to Hamilton when I'm off. Depending how my first week or so looks I will likely ask that instead of spreading my 2-3-4 days off, if I could have a few in a row, so I can go home and stuff. Just like I did at Cotton Ginny. But at the same time, I want to work as many hours as they can give me, so we will see. I know it's only PT, so I'm really not expecting more than say 15 hours a week.... *Sigh*

I also have to give my two weeks notice at CG. It's a 'conflict of interest' or me to work both places. Not terribly sad about that. I'll miss the wonderful ladies I got to work with, but I have been trying to find work in Toronto for just months now.

Still need to keep looking though. And keep looking for full time and such, but it's definitely a step up, and a step in the right direction! I get to spend more time with my Chris... And we both want that.

Bless him, you know, the other night I was all sad, so he sat down next to me and asked what was wrong. It took a long time for me to find the words, I'm just terrile with saying the words, but he let me have that time. Patience. Patience is definitely a viture with me. When I finally told him, he was slightly releived. "I thought this was the break-up speech," he said. Dear, dear, dear man! As if I would do that! And now! I love him far far too much to ever let him go. And I told him so. I want to keep him I do. *nods*

In other news, tomorrow is mother's day, so I'm baking my mom a cake today and bringing it home with me. I sure hope she likes it! Angel food cake with strawberries, and a diet style frosting. Hopefully it will be yummy and pretty! Hopefully...

Late Night Posting

Since I'm up and can't sleep, I figured I might as well post as not.

On the knitty front I'm almost half-way done my current project, or rather the one that's getting all my attention: A Klein Bottle tea cosy, of my own design. It's for my dear man's brother. I was tickled pink to learn, when spending time with him and Chris Christmas eve, that he was not only geeky enough to know what a Klein bottle was, but was actually geeky enough to get excited about the prospect of someone knitting one for him! heh. So here I am making a tea cosy in a nice superwash wool in dark green. I guesstimated the yarn requirement badly though, and will have to go back and get another ball. Doh. That's what I get for not wanting someone else to have to pay for yarn they might not need. Lesson learned: it's just always a good idea to get one ball extra!

On the health front I've been to see a Neuropathology specialist on account of my regularly losing feeling in my fingers and hands, especially my right hand. When I went to my GP he said that a) I likely have arthritis in a disc in my neck which was causing part of the trouble and b) I could very well have carpal tunnel. So off to see a specialist I went, after having x-rays done to make sure it wasn't just my neck, of course. I have to say Dr. Derby was thee nicest doctor I have ever visited! He has just excellent bedside manner. He was so friendly, kind, gentle, and professionally helpful. What a pleasure. His secretary was equally nice. I wish all doctor visits could be so congenial. Anyway, the point: I do in fact have carpal tunnel in my right wrist. My left is fine now, but might develop it later (as in years from now) as that is common amongst his patients, he said. The treatment is surgery. Ack. It's elective at least, but I have to have it within the year he said, otherwise I'll be causing myself permanent nerve damage. He's arranged for me to see a Dr. Patterson, who "does very nice work", as he put it. His secretary will call me in a few weeks once she's booked an appointment for me.

I'm thinking of waiting until the summer to get it done, or at least the spring. Dr. Derby said golfers tend to book it in the winter for convenience. I'm a knitter, 'knitting season' is when it's cold outside. I don't want to lose the rest of this season if I don't have to! Chris and my mom think I should just have it done now and get it over with. So this is definitely something I want to discuss with the surgeon, i.e. recovery time, special treatment after surgery, how it will effect my work (both my current retail or future hopefully bank-related work), etc.

I have to say, working retail and therefore being completely without benefits, I'm really glad to live in Canada, and Ontario for that matter. Our Health Care system may leave much to be desired, but not having to worry about how on god's green earth I'm going to pay for this surgery is really, well, just wonderful. All I'll have to pay for is any meds I'll need during recovery. And really, considering my total lack of income, that's just aces.

On the jobbery front, speaking of, no actual movement. Still working very part time, but at least it's a wee bit of money coming in. Better than nothing that's for sure. Need to get my ass in gear. I think this is why I've been having so many nightmares lately. I'm trying to avoid what scares me (the job hunting thing really freaks me out), so this fear and avoidance are manifesting themselves in my dreams. Hence the chasing, and entrapment, and other scary-ass stuff.

On the domestic front I made pizza (from scratch) for Chris and I today. Very yummy, even if I do say so myself. We totally pigged out. It's about 6 hours later now and I'm only just feeling a little peckish (usually I need to eat every 4 hours). So yay me. heh. I'm also obsessing about Coconut cake ever since seeing the Good Eats episode for it. It just looks so damn yummy. I MUST make one. Trouble is, if I make it here at Chris' we will for sure eat the whole thing, and really, two people shouldn't eat that much cake. Sooo.. I need to find me a reason/occasion to make such a cake, like the gang getting together or something. My other thought is just to make a mini-cake. That would require mini-pans, but if I were to make it at Chris' place I would need pans anyway, as he doesn't have cake pans. And really, the mini-pans could come in handy. They'd allow me to make cakes for the two of us without the worry of us being total gluttons. I do love to bake after all. I'm all domestic like that, don't you know.

On the social front it feels like I haven't seen my friends in ages. I think the last time I saw most of the gang was at Bob's band's gig on the 27th of January. So not that long ago at all really. It just feels like it. Probably because I haven't even had much of a chance to talk to any of them since. Nor really that night seeing as we were all in the loud club and such. We haven't had a good get together since the weekend before that. Maybe I just miss my Neda... We need to hang out, we haven't done that in ages. I would happily hang out with all the girls though, we need a good clucking night. Yes, we sit around like hens and cluck. That's our thing. But really, what else do girls do when they get together but cluck? ;)

My mom is the Coolest :-D

Here is the situation: my friend Bob (and his band In Silent Code) are playing at Absinthe on Saturday night. Neda, who is really good friend's with Bob, asked me to go with her. I said yes of course. She also asked me to ask Chris if he wanted to come; we both think he might like their music, it's harder rock-ish kinda stuff. Trouble is, it's at a club, it will be late by the time it's over. There will be no way for him to get back to Toronto. He will need a place to stay, and the obvious choice would be my house of course. My grandparents house that is.

I've never asked, I've never wanted to ask, to have a man spend the night. I just felt it would be.. disrespectful to ask. But... this is different. Chris is different. He's not just 'some guy', he's my man. I wanna keep this one. I plan on moving in with this one after all. When I mentioned that to my mom she said she hoped it worked out for us, that made me happy. But then, of course she wants me to be happy, she's my mom. And even a blind person could see how happy I am with my Chris. :)

So I decided to ask my mom if Chris could stay over. Her answer? " I don't see why not." How cool is that?! When I asked her if she was sure, she teased me, "What you worried your bed can't take it?" Ha! So cool. I love my mom. :D

In other news, my manager at Cotton Ginny asked me today if I wanted to stay on permanently, well at least until I find work in Toronto. The part time girl quit, so she needs a new closer. This is going to be me. My manager knows I'm planning on moving to Toronto, she asked how long I thought that process I would take, I said 1-3 months. She's okay with that. She was happy in fact, so much so she gave me a hug! I think she really likes me, I'm very pleased by that one. Yay me. ha.

I'm really glad I get to work while finding another job, I was worried about not having enough savings. This is good. The fact that I miss my man is good too. It will give me the motivation I need to get off my ass and start looking. I plan to start tomorrow. The sooner I start looking, the sooner I will find something, the sooner I will get to live with my man full time.. I can't wait. I love falling asleep next to him. I love waking up with him. I love spending time with him.. even when we are doing our own things, I just like having him around, and vise versa.

Oooh, and another benefit of my Chris spending the night, besides it meaning I get to spend Saturday with him, we get to test out my mattress for sleepability. I don't really like his. It's too hard for me. I'm a fat chick with really wide hips, his bed puts uncomfy pressure on my hips. I love my bed. I'm hoping he will like my bed. I'm really really hoping. Otherwise... well.. I think we might need to get a mattress pad or something, cause I just don't think I could sleep on his mattress long term.

My Mother is the Most Independent Woman I know

About a month ago or so I told my mom(actually my grandmother, but she raised me so she's mom) I was thinking of buying Grandpa a snowblower for Christmas, this was before my unemployment ran out of course. I had figured I'd be able to save up enough for it and still have savings/Christmas/Korea money as, at that point I had about two grand saved. Then everything changed and there was no way for me to afford such a nice gift. *sigh*

Well, today mom, in her usual fashion says to Pa, "Why don't we go out today and get you a snowblower? I've got enough saved up for it, but I'd need you there to pick it out. Do we have enough room in the van to get it in? Is there enough room in your shed? You're getting older you know. And we are supposed to get more snow this winter than we have in 25 years. You'd have a lot of fun with it. I can just see you with it." Go mom. She had a good sales pitch, I tell you what.

I was stunned, and so was Pa! Ha. I'll think about it, he says. Yes you think about it, she said. But I know her, she's made her decision, and she wants to do it today. Well, it's a good time to do it though, we are supposed to get 25-30cm over the weekend!

The other thing is, she managed to save that money on her very fixed income AND had enough to give me some money too. Way more than I thought she would. She didn't have the money to get everyone Christmas gifts this year, what with the new bills she has, so I figured, maybe she would get me a nice pair of pjs. I know her, she's like me, I live here, there's no way she could not get me something. I cried I was so touched. I mean, she said it wasn't much, but to me it's the difference between being scared shitless about not having any money, like money for food and transit, and feeling like I can make it until I find a teller job in Toronto.

It still makes me cry because, she's so damn generous. Have I mentioned she's exactly the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up? She's my hero. Really. I never had a "Daddy" growing up, instead I got his mommy, and boys of boys did I luck out! She's been taking care of me since I was two months old, and she still is. Bless her.

On the jobbery front, I survived my 8.5 hour day, much easier than I thought. I think it was the shoes. Wore my brown hush puppies. They were wet with sweat about 4 hours in though. Ick. At least I wasn't smelling up the joint! Ha. Today I only have 4 hours, which is good, I have Christmasy things to do. Knitting and such. Still don't know what to do for Sabrina's kids. I really can't afford expensive gifts. Heck, I really can't afford gifts period.

First Day, I wish it was my last...

My feet are sooooooooooooooooo sore! They've never been this sore in my entire life! Oh my fucking god. So, so, so, so, so sore. There really aren't words.

And I only worked a 4 hour shift! Friday I have to work eight and a half hours!! I'm not going to make it... I'm just not. I'm in so much pain, and that's only after four hours.

Seriously... I don't think I can do this. I just.. I can't. $32 for four hours? For THIS much pain? It's not fucking worth it. It's just.. it's not damnit.

I want to crawl in a whole and die now.

There were good parts to my day, I did make a few sales, two were over $100 dollars, one was $250-ish even. But I just don't fucking care. I don't even care that I'm starving. I hurt too much to care about anything.