I saw on line an obesity study that paid $1,000. I figured I'd sign up. Getting there would be another story entirely.
Today I finally went. The place doesn't seem very organized. They say I have to 'qualify' for the study because I have to have a certain gene that causes obesity. So they needed to take blood and test for the gene. They couldn't find a vein (no one ever can) so they swabbed my mouth instead. If I qualify, then I get compensated. They were so unorganized I won't plan on hearing from them or making money. However......
I had to get on a scale.
gulp
290
I assume their scale will add pounds because they are trying to get people in the study, but almost 20 pounds? I am in shock. I was like 10 pounds till I round 300. Nice. But I doubt that I weigh that much. Do they have a scale at CVS? I have to get a scrip filled.
I did the math, I am twice my body weight. I am 145 lbs overweight. That was my original weight. It was a lifetime ago. When I was 20 I was 145. Now at 50 I am twice that. It is hard for me to lose any weight when half of the food I eat in a month comes from the food bank. I will admit the last two months I have been indulging in soda and ice cream regularly. It was so hot out only an ice cold soda felt good. Stepping on the scale showed me that my indulgence was real. I have the weight to prove it. I am upset, but not crying or feeling like I have to starve myself. Whenever I think about losing weight; I start craving junk food. I want pizza or burgers. I think about ice cream. It's been this way for years. I finally did all the research about how to lose the weight and know what I have to do. There is a plan on line that I wanted to buy once I started working but here I am 8 months into the year and I still don't have a job. There is a job fair tomorrow and I put myself on a mailing list for it. But I wasn't ready to go. I don't have an outfit ready. I feel my wardrobe is incredibly shabby. Especially the shoes. If I had some expensive shoes; I could fake my way in. Plus a bag to match. I feel everything I own looks like a homeless person. Nothing looks polished. Nothing looks expensive. I am self conscious whenever I have to dress to go to an interview or to an office. But maybe I might have to fake my way through it. I can't take feeling stuck. Unwanted, Ugly/Fat, broke anymore. I don't want to commit suicide or anything. I just don't want this to be all there is.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Problematic or whatevz
I don't consider myself traditional at all. I feel like I wasn't raised in a traditional way so why would I be.
I think I made a realization around 30 that men are as a whole not worth the energy. Trying to have a relationship with one is such a draining and exploitative experience, that I had to make some decisions about relationships. I like going on dates. I like crushes. I like affection. Sex when it's good is great. But everything else can be a real drag. I never wanted to have children. I have already had live in boyfriends, and it was a nightmare. Want to know what it's like to be taken for granted and completely disregarded? Move in with a guy. I realized I didn't like my feelings and desires ignored. Until I could meet a man who was considerate about those things, I wouldn't bother trying to have a relationship with them. I think in my 20s I could see myself having affairs with interesting creative men my whole life. We'd meet over the years and enjoy eachother. That would be enough.
I didn't know how complicated casual relationships would be.
Especially when it's only one way. I go months at a time without interaction on an intimate level. There's a myth that a woman can get sex whenever she wants. It's a theory. To have top quality that feels safe and connected is a whole other thing. It's not that easy to come by.
I had two men that I felt I would be happy with if I only saw them for the rest of the duration. Or until I got serious about someone. But they don't really show up when I'd like. One of them is kind of a douchebag who thinks he's a 'nice guy'. He doesn't know how to tell the truth about situations. He hides from them. He got married in the middle of our situation and didn't tell me. He was one of these 'just got out of a long relationship' guys. He wasn't happy for a long time. But he was 'moving on' when we met. Then he looped back and married her, a year later they were divorced and he was living with his parents. Three years later he's still living with them, doing odd jobs and doesn't have a car that can make the trip to the south side from the valley. It's about 26 miles one way. On public transport it's 2 busses and 2 trains one way. He borrowed a truck once to come over. He brought a pizza. But we didn't fool around. He tells me after 3 months of being back that he feels guilty because he's kind of 'seeing someone' but really shouldn't be dating at all because he needs to get his life together. He keeps promising to come over then not. I stopped even pretending. But now it's like I have to do something about this.
The other guy doesn't live that far but he has two kids that he raises part time. So I don't bug him that much. But I can text him and not get a response for weeks. Which is annoying.
It's just crumbs.
I have to change so many things to make this stop.
Or is this all I have to look forward to?
In this day and age it's really hard to tell.
I think I made a realization around 30 that men are as a whole not worth the energy. Trying to have a relationship with one is such a draining and exploitative experience, that I had to make some decisions about relationships. I like going on dates. I like crushes. I like affection. Sex when it's good is great. But everything else can be a real drag. I never wanted to have children. I have already had live in boyfriends, and it was a nightmare. Want to know what it's like to be taken for granted and completely disregarded? Move in with a guy. I realized I didn't like my feelings and desires ignored. Until I could meet a man who was considerate about those things, I wouldn't bother trying to have a relationship with them. I think in my 20s I could see myself having affairs with interesting creative men my whole life. We'd meet over the years and enjoy eachother. That would be enough.
I didn't know how complicated casual relationships would be.
Especially when it's only one way. I go months at a time without interaction on an intimate level. There's a myth that a woman can get sex whenever she wants. It's a theory. To have top quality that feels safe and connected is a whole other thing. It's not that easy to come by.
I had two men that I felt I would be happy with if I only saw them for the rest of the duration. Or until I got serious about someone. But they don't really show up when I'd like. One of them is kind of a douchebag who thinks he's a 'nice guy'. He doesn't know how to tell the truth about situations. He hides from them. He got married in the middle of our situation and didn't tell me. He was one of these 'just got out of a long relationship' guys. He wasn't happy for a long time. But he was 'moving on' when we met. Then he looped back and married her, a year later they were divorced and he was living with his parents. Three years later he's still living with them, doing odd jobs and doesn't have a car that can make the trip to the south side from the valley. It's about 26 miles one way. On public transport it's 2 busses and 2 trains one way. He borrowed a truck once to come over. He brought a pizza. But we didn't fool around. He tells me after 3 months of being back that he feels guilty because he's kind of 'seeing someone' but really shouldn't be dating at all because he needs to get his life together. He keeps promising to come over then not. I stopped even pretending. But now it's like I have to do something about this.
The other guy doesn't live that far but he has two kids that he raises part time. So I don't bug him that much. But I can text him and not get a response for weeks. Which is annoying.
It's just crumbs.
I have to change so many things to make this stop.
Or is this all I have to look forward to?
In this day and age it's really hard to tell.
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
Why do you need control so bad?
So my friend Ron came back to town after a few years on the road. He was a cool dude. I was surprised he looked me up when he came back to town. He's actually been attending my events lately and hanging out after to chop it up. He drives lyft so sometimes he will give me a ride someplace if I need one.
Weird thing, yesterday he was saying how he wanted to see my natural hair. I was like nope. But it so happened that I had spent a whole day working and sweatting in a warehouse so my scalp was making me nuts. I wash every two weeks anyway. He was saying how I should wear a natural.
Natural.
Has been a source of trauma for me over points of my life.
1.
The first time I went natural it was because I was forced to by my mother. She was always obsessed with me having a short afro. Which back then was not something a child of 8 did for fashion. My mother was mad bougie so she never learned or was taught how to cornrow hair. All of the women on her side of the family had fine hair that would look strange braided that way anyway. My fathers side of the family was the african side. Thick wooly hair. When I went to NY in the summer; first order of business was corn rows because we would swim all summer.
Back with my moms however, if I swam; at the end of the day it was a hair pulling nightmare for my mom. I'd scream and cry because she didn't know how to comb without yanking the shit out of my scalp. She didn't even try. So she just cut it all off. I was 8. I didn't wear dresses, or girly clothes. I was already a tomboy. So wherever I went I was called HE. One girl got mad at me one day and had all the neighborhood kids outside my house chanting I was a boy.
2.
I would be hanging with my cousin Laurie from NY when she came to Ohio for the summer. My grandma said 'if your mom doesn't send money to get your hair done, you won't get it done.' Laurie would want to hit the pool to meet guys. She was Puerto Rican so her hair was a breeze. Mine looked like a brillo pad. One day walking home there was a group of high school guys walking behind us. One of them looked like El DeBarge. I made a loud comment about how fine he was. He commented back about my nappy hair and how I was ugly. I tried to laugh it off. But it hurt.
3.
In LA I wanted to let my scalp breathe, but I was curious how people would treat me. I let it go and it was pretty buckwheat like. I got weird looks at school. One woman I lived with scolded me for having my hair a mess. When I was on the train I looked up to see a brother mad dogging me so hard I thought he would slap me. People I spoke to everyday either didn't recognize me or asked me if something was wrong. When I asked why, they would glance at my hair and say nothing. A guy whom I had a crush on saw me and paused, and kept walking. My hair looked almost exactly like his. Did he suddenly see me as another dude? It clearly made everyone uncomfortable, or think I was having some sort of breakdown. In the grand scheme of things I shouldn't care. However, the temperature of how I was dealt with left and impression. I have been chemical free since 1996. I have braided my hair and crochet styles or worn wigs. I weaved for a while but stopped. Wigs got cheaper and better looking so I would wear them. $40 for 6 weeks of a wig isn't a bad investment. I don't have $150-$250 every two weeks to go to a salon even to be natural.
I made the mistake of snapping a pic of my washed hair and sending it to him. He called back and said I could work with that and he started in on me.
The thing that bugs me is this.
Why do black men feel they have the right to tell me what to do with my hair? Why do they feel the need to insist I be natural? Why does it have to be an argument? Why is there some sort of label assigned to me as being 'lost' because I don't have the time money or energy to deal with my natural hair. It's not just wake up and go. Far from it. There are all kinds of products involved. Plus I want my hair to be dynamic and exciting. That takes work.
I am not dating this guy, or romantically involved with him. So why is he insisting on this? I got really angry. ITS MY HAIR AND I WILL DO WHAT I WANT WITH IT. He made some comment that I will be the only woman looking like George Jefferson. Like I'm going to go bald. From braiding my hair? Get the fuck out of here. He's talking to me like I am Naomi wearing weave. I'm not. Her shit is falling out. I really don't like being told what to do or how I should look. Or be shamed into wearing my hair natural because there is something 'wrong with me' if I don't.
It's my fucking choice.
I am wondering if this is going to keep coming up. Or if he will respect my wishes and not keep trying to force me to do what he wants. Even if he wanted to date me, this interaction is making me see him differently. Not as someone who can like me no matter what I choose.
Weird thing, yesterday he was saying how he wanted to see my natural hair. I was like nope. But it so happened that I had spent a whole day working and sweatting in a warehouse so my scalp was making me nuts. I wash every two weeks anyway. He was saying how I should wear a natural.
Natural.
Has been a source of trauma for me over points of my life.
1.
The first time I went natural it was because I was forced to by my mother. She was always obsessed with me having a short afro. Which back then was not something a child of 8 did for fashion. My mother was mad bougie so she never learned or was taught how to cornrow hair. All of the women on her side of the family had fine hair that would look strange braided that way anyway. My fathers side of the family was the african side. Thick wooly hair. When I went to NY in the summer; first order of business was corn rows because we would swim all summer.
Back with my moms however, if I swam; at the end of the day it was a hair pulling nightmare for my mom. I'd scream and cry because she didn't know how to comb without yanking the shit out of my scalp. She didn't even try. So she just cut it all off. I was 8. I didn't wear dresses, or girly clothes. I was already a tomboy. So wherever I went I was called HE. One girl got mad at me one day and had all the neighborhood kids outside my house chanting I was a boy.
2.
I would be hanging with my cousin Laurie from NY when she came to Ohio for the summer. My grandma said 'if your mom doesn't send money to get your hair done, you won't get it done.' Laurie would want to hit the pool to meet guys. She was Puerto Rican so her hair was a breeze. Mine looked like a brillo pad. One day walking home there was a group of high school guys walking behind us. One of them looked like El DeBarge. I made a loud comment about how fine he was. He commented back about my nappy hair and how I was ugly. I tried to laugh it off. But it hurt.
3.
In LA I wanted to let my scalp breathe, but I was curious how people would treat me. I let it go and it was pretty buckwheat like. I got weird looks at school. One woman I lived with scolded me for having my hair a mess. When I was on the train I looked up to see a brother mad dogging me so hard I thought he would slap me. People I spoke to everyday either didn't recognize me or asked me if something was wrong. When I asked why, they would glance at my hair and say nothing. A guy whom I had a crush on saw me and paused, and kept walking. My hair looked almost exactly like his. Did he suddenly see me as another dude? It clearly made everyone uncomfortable, or think I was having some sort of breakdown. In the grand scheme of things I shouldn't care. However, the temperature of how I was dealt with left and impression. I have been chemical free since 1996. I have braided my hair and crochet styles or worn wigs. I weaved for a while but stopped. Wigs got cheaper and better looking so I would wear them. $40 for 6 weeks of a wig isn't a bad investment. I don't have $150-$250 every two weeks to go to a salon even to be natural.
I made the mistake of snapping a pic of my washed hair and sending it to him. He called back and said I could work with that and he started in on me.
The thing that bugs me is this.
Why do black men feel they have the right to tell me what to do with my hair? Why do they feel the need to insist I be natural? Why does it have to be an argument? Why is there some sort of label assigned to me as being 'lost' because I don't have the time money or energy to deal with my natural hair. It's not just wake up and go. Far from it. There are all kinds of products involved. Plus I want my hair to be dynamic and exciting. That takes work.
I am not dating this guy, or romantically involved with him. So why is he insisting on this? I got really angry. ITS MY HAIR AND I WILL DO WHAT I WANT WITH IT. He made some comment that I will be the only woman looking like George Jefferson. Like I'm going to go bald. From braiding my hair? Get the fuck out of here. He's talking to me like I am Naomi wearing weave. I'm not. Her shit is falling out. I really don't like being told what to do or how I should look. Or be shamed into wearing my hair natural because there is something 'wrong with me' if I don't.
It's my fucking choice.
I am wondering if this is going to keep coming up. Or if he will respect my wishes and not keep trying to force me to do what he wants. Even if he wanted to date me, this interaction is making me see him differently. Not as someone who can like me no matter what I choose.
Friday, July 20, 2018
Lament
It's that time again. 5:30am. The traffic starts to pick up outside and so I shut my windows so I don't hear it. I haven't slept at night for like a week. I don't have a reason to. A thought popped into my head. "I don't have to smarts or skill to get a job." No one will be able to help me either, what will I do?
I feel like I am being forced to the Dollar General on purpose, because it will truly be temporary. I won't be tempted to get comfortable and still be working there 3 years from now. It's only to make the 250 to start my shoe business. I can make the money for my trip too. Then quit right before I go. Or not. Who knows, they might give me 4 days off. But time is running out. It's already the 20th of July. It's only a month away to the trip. I have to make a move. Even if I got a temp job for a week at $14 an hour that would work. But the likelyhood of that happening is pretty low.
I am depressed but trying not to let it out. I am angry and I feel like my life is being eroded away a little at a time. I am always on pinterest looking at all the things I have saved and then saving more things. Always daydreaming about what it would be like to live like one of those women. To be put together, look expensive and gorgeous. Have every bag, pair of shoes, outfit and hairstyle. Finally project myself the real way I am. I want to be 'stunning' and 'breath taking' when people see me. I want to have the expensive leather boots that I will have for the rest of my life. I want to craft my own leather jackets. I want to put pieces on IG and people go nuts and want them. I want to see stuff I created in movies and on TV.
I hurt so bad inside because sometimes I feel like I am at the end of my rope. That this is as good as my life will ever be. That I have to just accept it and wait to die. I hate the hopeless feelings I get. I hate feeling like I will always be along. Like no man of any worth will ever see me and cherish me. That the best relationship I will ever have will be the one I had 27 years ago. That makes me the saddest of all. I used sex to cover up the fact we had nothing in common, and that he wasn't what I wanted to be with. When you are young you can do that. Hide out. Not so much when you are older. You need more.
I don't feel like I will ever know what it's like to be loved. Because of my social status. My income level. All I run across is bums and convicts. It's funny how I miss living in Hollywood and Echo park. How I felt different there. Where as here I feel abandon. Like the way ghost #2 talked about the neighborhood. Like I lived in a garbage dump. People are scared of this neighborhood for no real reason that it's south central. There are no drive by shootings, no gang wars. People own homes and work everyday. It's just really dirty. Sidewalks are filthy and the streets too even though they sweep them occasionally. It's broken glass, garbage and grime. It makes me feel some type of way. Hollywood had it's grime too, but the people were more diverse. It's what I miss. A balance of people. Here I feel like an interloper. Everyone is mexican. When I see black people they are falling apart. Sad and poor. It gets to me. I can't handle it sometimes. Like the mentally ill black woman with her pants pulled down sitting on the sidewalk taking a piss. I can't handle it. Mexicans are prospering PAST us! They are doing better than us! IDK why that is. Maybe because they have a collective to help them. Their families are so big and tight knit they pool their resources and move forward. Black people are all about themselves and fuck family members who have their hands out. We always have those. The ones who gave up and we have to take care of them. It makes us bitter. I have to take care of my mom. I am all she has. I get frustrated that I can't help her more. When she needs groceries, or help with her bills. I want to see her and my dad.
I feel like I am being forced to the Dollar General on purpose, because it will truly be temporary. I won't be tempted to get comfortable and still be working there 3 years from now. It's only to make the 250 to start my shoe business. I can make the money for my trip too. Then quit right before I go. Or not. Who knows, they might give me 4 days off. But time is running out. It's already the 20th of July. It's only a month away to the trip. I have to make a move. Even if I got a temp job for a week at $14 an hour that would work. But the likelyhood of that happening is pretty low.
I am depressed but trying not to let it out. I am angry and I feel like my life is being eroded away a little at a time. I am always on pinterest looking at all the things I have saved and then saving more things. Always daydreaming about what it would be like to live like one of those women. To be put together, look expensive and gorgeous. Have every bag, pair of shoes, outfit and hairstyle. Finally project myself the real way I am. I want to be 'stunning' and 'breath taking' when people see me. I want to have the expensive leather boots that I will have for the rest of my life. I want to craft my own leather jackets. I want to put pieces on IG and people go nuts and want them. I want to see stuff I created in movies and on TV.
I hurt so bad inside because sometimes I feel like I am at the end of my rope. That this is as good as my life will ever be. That I have to just accept it and wait to die. I hate the hopeless feelings I get. I hate feeling like I will always be along. Like no man of any worth will ever see me and cherish me. That the best relationship I will ever have will be the one I had 27 years ago. That makes me the saddest of all. I used sex to cover up the fact we had nothing in common, and that he wasn't what I wanted to be with. When you are young you can do that. Hide out. Not so much when you are older. You need more.
I don't feel like I will ever know what it's like to be loved. Because of my social status. My income level. All I run across is bums and convicts. It's funny how I miss living in Hollywood and Echo park. How I felt different there. Where as here I feel abandon. Like the way ghost #2 talked about the neighborhood. Like I lived in a garbage dump. People are scared of this neighborhood for no real reason that it's south central. There are no drive by shootings, no gang wars. People own homes and work everyday. It's just really dirty. Sidewalks are filthy and the streets too even though they sweep them occasionally. It's broken glass, garbage and grime. It makes me feel some type of way. Hollywood had it's grime too, but the people were more diverse. It's what I miss. A balance of people. Here I feel like an interloper. Everyone is mexican. When I see black people they are falling apart. Sad and poor. It gets to me. I can't handle it sometimes. Like the mentally ill black woman with her pants pulled down sitting on the sidewalk taking a piss. I can't handle it. Mexicans are prospering PAST us! They are doing better than us! IDK why that is. Maybe because they have a collective to help them. Their families are so big and tight knit they pool their resources and move forward. Black people are all about themselves and fuck family members who have their hands out. We always have those. The ones who gave up and we have to take care of them. It makes us bitter. I have to take care of my mom. I am all she has. I get frustrated that I can't help her more. When she needs groceries, or help with her bills. I want to see her and my dad.
deep breaths
I feel like my whole life stands still when I am waiting for money to arrive. I did make $20 off of an offer and spent it on food. I worked the one day at the law office and I was waiting for that check. It was like $84. I wanted a nail fill. I wanted to do my hair; but that will have to wait. I ate lunch, and bought sundries. I ran out of all my body soaps, and lotion. I bought a couple weeks worth of TP. I finally got another bottle of ACV and a bottle of raw honey so I could start on my weight loss on my own since I don't have a real income coming in to pay $160 for the diet I want to be on. I have to do it myself. Of course I broke down and had cupcakes and milk yesterday. It's anger, frustration, hopelessness that make me reach for them. I make calls about job openings, no one calls me back. There was an obesity study that said it would pay $2,500 and I have been calling them for a week. Someone called and left a message and I called back and left a message. It would be great if I could start that study. You don't get paid in a lump sum. You get paid over the course of the study. Like $75 at a time per visit. I could use that money to start chipping away at my goals.
I have been putting off applying at Dollar General because I don't want to be on my feet all day. But the Seattle trip is coming up and I don't want to be left out. That's at least $300. I signed up for a free travel site. Supposedly you get paid each week to do nothing. I haven't finished signing up yet. I can't stop thinking about clothes, shoes, hair and most of all losing weight. I have flashes of being thin again (150lbs) and a size 9. Being able to shop off the rack. Being able to talk to men that are attractive and desirable. To go on real dates. To be seen for once. Then I flip over and think men really aren't that important. They can be profoundly disappointing. You spend so much energy trying to get their attention just to be used and abused. Or they get obsessed with you and want you to fulfill some fantasy that they are having about themselves and you are just a prop in said fantasy and they really don't care about you; just how you look. But it's a double edged sword. You are damned if you do and damned if you don't. If you don't look good, you have no power. But if you look good; you get your power taken from you by men. They want to covet and possess you. Not love you. They get petty and jealous and don't care about your needs whatsoever. So why kill myself to look good? Because I want to. I want to outlive all the women in my family. I want to embrace that I don't look my age and have a rocking body to match. I want to be my own dream girl. Be in control. I feel so out of control all of the time. I hate how I feel like I am locked out of life. I don't have a car, I live in the hood, I am fat and I am on welfare. I hate these things and want to change them.
I am still procrastinating with my business plan because I need it to happen too much. I can't bear being told NO one more time. Not here. I feel like I would die. I don't have the energy to fight that battle right now.
I have been putting off applying at Dollar General because I don't want to be on my feet all day. But the Seattle trip is coming up and I don't want to be left out. That's at least $300. I signed up for a free travel site. Supposedly you get paid each week to do nothing. I haven't finished signing up yet. I can't stop thinking about clothes, shoes, hair and most of all losing weight. I have flashes of being thin again (150lbs) and a size 9. Being able to shop off the rack. Being able to talk to men that are attractive and desirable. To go on real dates. To be seen for once. Then I flip over and think men really aren't that important. They can be profoundly disappointing. You spend so much energy trying to get their attention just to be used and abused. Or they get obsessed with you and want you to fulfill some fantasy that they are having about themselves and you are just a prop in said fantasy and they really don't care about you; just how you look. But it's a double edged sword. You are damned if you do and damned if you don't. If you don't look good, you have no power. But if you look good; you get your power taken from you by men. They want to covet and possess you. Not love you. They get petty and jealous and don't care about your needs whatsoever. So why kill myself to look good? Because I want to. I want to outlive all the women in my family. I want to embrace that I don't look my age and have a rocking body to match. I want to be my own dream girl. Be in control. I feel so out of control all of the time. I hate how I feel like I am locked out of life. I don't have a car, I live in the hood, I am fat and I am on welfare. I hate these things and want to change them.
I am still procrastinating with my business plan because I need it to happen too much. I can't bear being told NO one more time. Not here. I feel like I would die. I don't have the energy to fight that battle right now.
Sunday, July 15, 2018
Not surprising but still annoying
So the first ghost that looked me up on FB about 8 weeks ago has not made contact the way I would like. I chilled. But then I started to wonder WTF is the hold up. It was he's broke, or the car doesn't work. Or the car won't make the trip, which is a long one. He doesn't want to take 2 busses and 2 trains to get here and the same back. I'm not worth the trouble I guess. I made the trip to get an aux cord from him.
He's the gold standard in bed. He's the best I'd ever had in California. But the waiting months is pissing me off.
I ask what's up.
He gives me some story about how he feels a little guilty because he's sort of dating someone.
WTF?
If you are dating someone then why look me up?
He wasn't dating her 8 weeks ago.
This is fuckboy bullshit.
He didn't want a relationship with me way back when. Fine. But then he looks me up after two years. But then starts 'dating' someone else AFTER he's already talking to me but then feels some type of way toward her even though I was here first.
I want so much more than this.
I don't know what to do.
I feel like I have to be someone else.
Turn into someone else.
REALLY.
I went and got juice and stuff for the cleanse.
I feel like I have to transform into someone else in order to get any respect.
I am so tired of being treated like an afterthought.
He's the gold standard in bed. He's the best I'd ever had in California. But the waiting months is pissing me off.
I ask what's up.
He gives me some story about how he feels a little guilty because he's sort of dating someone.
WTF?
If you are dating someone then why look me up?
He wasn't dating her 8 weeks ago.
This is fuckboy bullshit.
He didn't want a relationship with me way back when. Fine. But then he looks me up after two years. But then starts 'dating' someone else AFTER he's already talking to me but then feels some type of way toward her even though I was here first.
I want so much more than this.
I don't know what to do.
I feel like I have to be someone else.
Turn into someone else.
REALLY.
I went and got juice and stuff for the cleanse.
I feel like I have to transform into someone else in order to get any respect.
I am so tired of being treated like an afterthought.
Monday, July 9, 2018
...and back to dark again
I was paranoid about not being on time to my first day. I didn't know what to wear. I pulled out my most plain clothes for the week. I hate 'office attire' but I will do it so I can have a life. I got my period on Friday and had been cramping. I was really hyper aware of how I looked and felt. I was worried I'd smell bad. I was really worried about it. But my flow would be lighter today. I took a shower in the morning and at night.
I got there at the stroke of 9 and had to wait about 30 minutes. I went in with another girl who had apparently worked there before. A lady showed me what to do. I worked on a stack of mail. I sat next to two cool people. We chatted a bit throughout the day.
Over the weekend I did a bunch of dreaming. My friends were planning the trip to Seattle. I was excited to finally have money to do what I wanted. Finally be able to pay my way with my friends. I put headders on my pages in my sketch book, but I didn't fill them in. I couldn't. Not yet. I told myself, get through the week then this weekend start making the list.
I found cheap sneakers on line I wanted. I thought about outfits and hair. I would be able to go on my diet and start losing weight. I was feeling relief. I was feeling hope. I was seeing my car in 6 weeks.
I got through the day and made my way to the train. The agency tried to call me but my phone was dying. I told her I would charge my phone and text her to call me.
I got a twinge.
It's bad news.
Nah.
Shake it off.
Then I got anxious.
I started to worry.
She called.
The news was not good. The job called and said it wasn't going to work out. Their needs changed. REALLY? Since this morning? I started to worry that I smelled bad, and someone complained. I felt like people were talking behind my back. I noticed that the mail room was low key segregated. Latin girls on one side blacks on the other. The lawyers cubby holes are over the Latin sides area. I had to sort mail and put it in the cubbys. But I had to hunt for the names. I kept hearing giggling, and talking in spanish. For a second I thought they were saying mean things about me and giggling. Then 'it's not working out, their needs have changed.'
I am trying not to get sad. I am trying my best not to be derailed by this. I made like $100. How can I make this money work for me so I don't have to beg for jobs? I am not going back in the bag.
I won't!
I've smelled fresh air, and felt the sun.
I can't go back!
I got there at the stroke of 9 and had to wait about 30 minutes. I went in with another girl who had apparently worked there before. A lady showed me what to do. I worked on a stack of mail. I sat next to two cool people. We chatted a bit throughout the day.
Over the weekend I did a bunch of dreaming. My friends were planning the trip to Seattle. I was excited to finally have money to do what I wanted. Finally be able to pay my way with my friends. I put headders on my pages in my sketch book, but I didn't fill them in. I couldn't. Not yet. I told myself, get through the week then this weekend start making the list.
I found cheap sneakers on line I wanted. I thought about outfits and hair. I would be able to go on my diet and start losing weight. I was feeling relief. I was feeling hope. I was seeing my car in 6 weeks.
I got through the day and made my way to the train. The agency tried to call me but my phone was dying. I told her I would charge my phone and text her to call me.
I got a twinge.
It's bad news.
Nah.
Shake it off.
Then I got anxious.
I started to worry.
She called.
The news was not good. The job called and said it wasn't going to work out. Their needs changed. REALLY? Since this morning? I started to worry that I smelled bad, and someone complained. I felt like people were talking behind my back. I noticed that the mail room was low key segregated. Latin girls on one side blacks on the other. The lawyers cubby holes are over the Latin sides area. I had to sort mail and put it in the cubbys. But I had to hunt for the names. I kept hearing giggling, and talking in spanish. For a second I thought they were saying mean things about me and giggling. Then 'it's not working out, their needs have changed.'
I am trying not to get sad. I am trying my best not to be derailed by this. I made like $100. How can I make this money work for me so I don't have to beg for jobs? I am not going back in the bag.
I won't!
I've smelled fresh air, and felt the sun.
I can't go back!
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Dark to Light
So... I was getting low on food. I had cup of noodles. I had parmesean cheese. I had french dressing, and cream cheese, and some salsa. I had some mixed frozen veggies from the food bank. I ate this for days. My counselor took me to bixel street to get food at the community center. It was garbage. More fucking whole wheat pasta. I got a big can of chicken. I mixed cream cheese and mayo, mustard and relish and ate it with matza bread. That lasted a day. I was getting so fucking hungry. I had to hold on till the 4th. But it was a holiday. I noticed on the first my welfare payment didn't post. I got nervous. So on the 3rd I went to the office to check. The 2nd I would have gone but I got sidetracked with drama. Another post.
The worker told me they were keeping my money because of an overpayment. I was pissed because I needed to pay my phone bill and internet. She said I would get my food stamps on time. The 4th was a holiday so I didn't think I would get my stamps. I rode to the valley to get the aux cord from Kev for the dvd player. So I could watch movies when my internet was cut off. That took hours there and back. So I was like I will get them the next day. I go to the store and there are no food stamps. It's blazing hot outside too. So I had to schlep to the office to see what the fuck. The worker said there was nothing wrong with my case. She released the food stamps. It was so hot out I felt like dying. I had only the energy to go to the dollar general and grab something for the day. I got carbs and ice cream. I passed out.
Today is Friday. It was 102 degrees out. I walked outside about noon and came right back in. I got my paycheck so I paid my phone bill and internet. I was planning on going to Santa Monica on Monday to talk to Justina face to face since she never called me back. People don't listen to their voicemails on their work phone anymore. I needed to work, and the agency needed my second reference. Justina was it. But they called me anyway today with a full time permanent job. It's a scan clerk at a law firm downtown. Perfect. $500 a week. My whole life just shifted that quick. I start Monday. So I got a brand new wig. The one I bought 2 weeks ago, I thought it was too big and bushy so I tried to thin it out and it looks crazy now. I should have left it alone. It is just a mess. I got foundation and powder, a new lipstick. I have to do laundry tomorrow. I unfortunately started my period in this heat. I feel terrible. But I have to get groceries for my lunches next week.
I sang praise to God all day. Thank you! I won't let you down! I will stay focused and stick to the plan. My first check I will get my diet program going. I will not look back. The AP crew is planning the Seattle trip for August 16 through 19th. I will be able to afford to go! I am so happy. I can see my mom! I can see my dad too! I can invest in all of my businesses and be independent by October 30th if I work hard and focus.
I was thinking I should book my own night at the skiptown that is for underground films. Kinglsee will never do them. There are so many amazing films that have followings. I have to branch out. I think I will call it Quirk Show. Kwerk Sho. I need to do it. With this job I will be able to get my car. I will be able to elevate my wardrobe. I will be able to go to Bananas once a month. I will be able to go out on the weekends. I am so happy. I feel vindicated.
Yesterday I had this image of myself like a kitten stuffed in a sack and thrown in a river to drown.
Today
Kitty is out of the bag.
RARWR
The worker told me they were keeping my money because of an overpayment. I was pissed because I needed to pay my phone bill and internet. She said I would get my food stamps on time. The 4th was a holiday so I didn't think I would get my stamps. I rode to the valley to get the aux cord from Kev for the dvd player. So I could watch movies when my internet was cut off. That took hours there and back. So I was like I will get them the next day. I go to the store and there are no food stamps. It's blazing hot outside too. So I had to schlep to the office to see what the fuck. The worker said there was nothing wrong with my case. She released the food stamps. It was so hot out I felt like dying. I had only the energy to go to the dollar general and grab something for the day. I got carbs and ice cream. I passed out.
Today is Friday. It was 102 degrees out. I walked outside about noon and came right back in. I got my paycheck so I paid my phone bill and internet. I was planning on going to Santa Monica on Monday to talk to Justina face to face since she never called me back. People don't listen to their voicemails on their work phone anymore. I needed to work, and the agency needed my second reference. Justina was it. But they called me anyway today with a full time permanent job. It's a scan clerk at a law firm downtown. Perfect. $500 a week. My whole life just shifted that quick. I start Monday. So I got a brand new wig. The one I bought 2 weeks ago, I thought it was too big and bushy so I tried to thin it out and it looks crazy now. I should have left it alone. It is just a mess. I got foundation and powder, a new lipstick. I have to do laundry tomorrow. I unfortunately started my period in this heat. I feel terrible. But I have to get groceries for my lunches next week.
I sang praise to God all day. Thank you! I won't let you down! I will stay focused and stick to the plan. My first check I will get my diet program going. I will not look back. The AP crew is planning the Seattle trip for August 16 through 19th. I will be able to afford to go! I am so happy. I can see my mom! I can see my dad too! I can invest in all of my businesses and be independent by October 30th if I work hard and focus.
I was thinking I should book my own night at the skiptown that is for underground films. Kinglsee will never do them. There are so many amazing films that have followings. I have to branch out. I think I will call it Quirk Show. Kwerk Sho. I need to do it. With this job I will be able to get my car. I will be able to elevate my wardrobe. I will be able to go to Bananas once a month. I will be able to go out on the weekends. I am so happy. I feel vindicated.
Yesterday I had this image of myself like a kitten stuffed in a sack and thrown in a river to drown.
Today
Kitty is out of the bag.
RARWR
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