The death of a salesman selling martyrdom and the unrepenting sinner who slammed the front door

Let me start out by saying that this almost 2 week hiatus was a very much self imposed exile...me on a deserted island some where far off and after 2 weeks I felt like I was going to start talking to a damn volley ball or worse, cannibalizing myself...or it can be more  accurately described as self inflicted because it felt like i was a cutter and the burning slices through my skin were a choice....maybe that's a little extreme and in no way is meant to undercut the severity of cutting...I mean hey! if you're having to wear turtle necks in July, and buy razor blades by the dozen or hoard broken bottles in your dresser drawers then please seek the help you need. I could give you the names of a few health professionals......

Either way...I needed those 2 weeks because I had reached a point of no return and felt my body slowly shutting down....a silent dark cloud was drifting over me, and I know I know...you would dub me Cymbalta and make some crack about depression, but it was much simpler than that....being burnt out has nothing to do with depression or anxiety or anything else a tiny little pink or blue pill can relieve for hours at a time....its about a way of life that is burdening you emotionally and in this case physically, so you find yourself drifting mentally at work, bored on the ride home, and tossing and turning on a heating pad for your hip that seems to be aching from the nothingness....

I had last left off chewing the ears of helpless Cadbury critters, and a lot has happened in that time span....let's start with a little musing on families. As you know from previous posts I can pontificate and dissect and analyze the whole dysfunctional family concept until the cows come home to graze.....but cud is cud, and it doesn't make it any less nasty. Neither does trying to figure out what the hell families are made of...what they should be....and what they aren't...

And so it was that the weekend of Easter Marcus' grandfather Nazario passed away....first lets preface this by saying he fell ill and had to be hospitalized and Marcus didn't get the call until he had been in the hospital for a week....and by then he had pneumonia, and it was Wednesday.....Three days later I was fielding calls from a distant aunt in Portland that he had taken a turn for the worse aka stroke and was now in a coma....by afternoon a text simply announcing "Grandpa died" was the only communicating line between a scattered group of misfits....

Mind you the back story may shed some light on the whole family dynamic....abusive, alcoholic father finds God and changes life for the better once being saved....but only after irreversible damage is done to now grown up children who scatter to the 7 winds and make every effort to NOT conform to the way of their father's new found salvation in Jehovah....

Please keep in mind I am a very open, very liberal person in regards to religion...my mother and I are devout Episcopalians, my step father is a Wiccan, my sister is an amalgamation of Episcopalian principles and jaded agnostic views almost bordering faint atheist....and my father picks and choices aspects of the Anglican faith melded with hippy dippy self help books....we have Buddhists and Catholics, and holy roller Baptists....I am quite familiar with the Latter Day Saints aka people on bikes, and I truly believe we all have the same idea.

I am stealing this from Ice-T: "You are either a good person or you're a bad person". Essentially he hit the nail on the head....all religions regardless of tyrannical and oppressive attributes and varying dress and rituals all have the same sort of idea....live a righteous life, live a good life for the benefits of others.

However, this is also not a free pass once you find your path or the light or have been saved to take the high road and preach to others. This also does not unfortunately ever erase the damage done by prior sins...

And so it was that we made the decision to take the ass numbing journey to Longview because only one of his four children had planned to go....someone from his past needed to be there in his present to represent the future he left behind...or maybe I was fooling myself, and just wanted to go out of curiosity to see what people would say about a man I had only met a handful of times and could never communicate with because of the language barrier....but still sent a card to every holiday...

So we stuffed ourselves into the car and made the journey, snacks and juice boxes keeping us fueled until we hit the 903 area code. And then it went downhill.  Let me start out by saying we all can find flaws in our in laws and families....its more than the ha-ha joke of the dreaded mother in law or groping drunk uncle.....its while we might despise our own family, somehow we hold them on a higher pedestal than our spouses and somehow what is normal to them, is completely utterly despicable and debauchery to us....its a fact. Admit it. You do it too....

But most of you are probably smart enough to keep it hidden in the recesses and fat folds of the grey matter between your ears...

For those of us stupid enough, callous enough and vile enough to say those things....well it makes situations like this even more tragic. My mother in law is nice. Do not get me wrong in that I can honestly state she is very gracious and boisterous and overall happy go lucky....But she is as selfish as selfish come, and being a mother was an oversight on her part....it was an inconvenience that has seemed to resolve itself when my husband made his way to adulthood, and somehow the idea of grand motherhood is an idea better left on paper...she also finds it difficult to not fill her day with drinking round the clock and this lifestyle has deteriorated her since I last saw her at our wedding....from weight loss to the fact she doesn't even know our names.....

In that single moment standing in a dead man's house to change clothes, I felt like I should have stayed at home....it was this eerie out of body experience where I was watching the dramady of another family and did not recognize the players, the lines or even why the fuck I was sitting there watching it...

That was the tip of the ice berg.  I felt since he was a Jehovah Witness, and was cremated that black was not necessarily entirely the protocol for this occasion, and decided to wear a dark taupe pants suit with heels. Very demur and yet classy with a brass button top.....think a sergeant pepper type jacket....at least that's what Marcus calls me.   Well I had no clue that pants are frowned upon.  And so I walked into the Kingdom Hall ignorant and basically offending a number of parishioners...or Witnesses...or followers.  I am ignorant to the lingo, and as ashamed as I am to say this, I was always one of those teach your kids moms that you slam the door shut or hide so they don't leave a copy of the Watch Tower at your door..

Second to that offense is the fact that everyone speaks Spanish, not English and except for my mother-in-law, his widow, wife #2, Marcus and the kids and I, not a single other family member came. Over 250 people attended his memorial especially since it turns out he was an Elder, like standing room in the hall over the intercom, sobbing, emoting and I sat there completely emotionless because I didnt' feel right....plus no windows and no crosses or religious icons of faith sent me into a catatonic state of disbelief.

I find my religion, my faith is rooted in my personal relationship with whatever that belief is and while I love the feeling I get from genuflecting at church and taking Communion, I don't feel that my personal religious purpose is to absolutely dedicate my life to the church....it seems so strange, so alien to me to live your life being told what to do, when to do it to the point of losing your own identity.

But then I accept the fact and was in awe really of the dedication these people have to their religion....I mean maybe in some ways I feel its almost on the verge of a Jonestown type atmosphere, but I didn't see any Kool-aid so I know it was at least safe for now...

Fast forward to an ass numbing ride back and then we are here busy preparing for Charlotte's birthday party....a really nifty and groovy spa day in Katy with 8 little girls who in one overnight at the Sheraton West taught me how great medical science is to have evolved with birth control. That the NuvaRing is the next best thing since the Bacon Shake at Jack in the Box, and the best part of the whole awesome fun filled weekend....2 things. A) I got to send all those snotty ass bitches back to their snotty ass mothers and B) I now have a deeper and complete with heaving sigh of relief moment because I realize Charlotte is not nearly as screwed up like these other kids....not only was she on her best behavior and completely thankful, but the crap these kids say....let's just say mommy and daddy don't want to know their little bitty blow habit, parental bickering, and kids in therapy moments were shared as if discussing the next Justin Bieber video. I mean maybe its me, but every time I wish I was rich, I have to reconsider because the issues these kids have make me happy that we're poor...And most of all it made me realize (I guess I am managing to weasel in #3) that my mother blows my mind with the sacrifices and shit she does for me, my sister and my kids....she made this one of the best birthdays that Charlotte has ever had...hands down. For that moment on Saturday sitting in that spa, Charlotte was the girl all the others envied....and it was wonderful to see her enjoy something I couldn't otherwise have given her.

Needless to say we were exhausted when we hit the sack on Sunday, and I think even the anticipation of her actual birthday on Monday wasn't enough to keep her from falling asleep at 7:30 at night.

Then Charlotte rang in her 9th birthday the next day, Monday, and I lay there that morning thinking back to that day at 1:45 am when I finally pushed the little bugger out, and remembering in that moment that everyone in the room (save for the asshole whose DNA she shares) came together...it was like I had given my dad, my mom, John, and most of all myself a purpose to life we hadn't had before....Don't mistake this for some noble holier than thou attempt at idolizing myself for having a child...I won't start popping them out right and life because its my purpose or because its God's will....But in that quiet moment in that delivery room I felt like this shift in balance, and I looked at my parents, and then into her deep blue eyes and I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing would ever be the same. Ever. And it scared the living shit out of me. And she still does. But in a good way. Like in that put your arms out and spin until you cannot spin anymore and fall over keeling with laughter....

That day was her day to shine. Because she is walking, talking, laughing proof that of my salvation. Because she is absolutely unequivocally the reason I am alive today. Because she is one of the most awesome kids you will ever meet, and she deserves that one day to be the center of it all. So many days, so much of her life is played out being some fixture in the background of everything else, and between having Max, and the shit at work, and PTA, and her dad, and just time to breathe, it can be completely fucked up and unfair that she is left out in the cold. (not literal in a CPS knocking on our door with frost bitten kid way).

It would have been even better if she had gotten a call from her father....and not at the last minute as an after thought as what happened while we were eating dinner at CPK....She spent the rest of last week waiting for a card that never came, and the sinking realization he didn't really give a shit to begin with....Don't get me wrong...she got the Toms she was so desperately wanting, and the feather in her hair, and some cool stuff...none of it made a difference. It was the thought. It was that her Paki, my dad who I have numerous times bitched about his selfishness called her at 7 am, my parents, her great-grandfather, her baby brother, her step dad all celebrated in some way with her....we all remembered...how can we not?  Our lives wouldn't be the same without her..


Two weeks of no entries, now going on 3 and I don't know if I still have your attention, but if I do then know this isn't going to be that much longer....My hand is getting tired and I need to wrap it up so I can actually write about something fresh and cool...and maybe a little funny?  Anyway-the week ended with this awesome opportunity, thanks to a great gal, Jennie Orellana, to write a hip hop blog for Act Badd Productions...something that seems totally the polar opposite of me, but is really part of my former drug addled self I can mesh and merge into my life now...besides, it gets my foot in the door of something so much more with my writing.....if you know me, you'll know I would give anything to write for the Houston Press or some awesome publication..

oh-and that neighbor who got shipped off to rehab leaves a vacancy in my complex and God knows I could use the extra $200 referral money to buy more birth control or feed the kids I have, so if you need a place let me know!


Otherwise....peace out, dawg....ok-so that was a half ass attempt at using cool lingo and I better just stick to old school style....so please stay tuned tomorrow when I get back on track....say a few Hail Mary's for me .....

Restless late night rendezvous' with tasty ear less rabbits by fridge light...

Let me start out by saying that today is not going to be anything of significance. It will not be a funny, ha-ha leave you doubled over with a stream of chortles and giggles echoing down the hall.....it won't leave you wiping the snot off your nose, and rubbing your achy eyes from the sappy emotional stimulation you get....it won't probably leave you feeling anything....except maybe disgust from the path this seems to be taking....I mean like get out the puke bucket now type of disgust....or maybe pity. And I can tell you right now I don't want, need or even care about shit like that now.

I have hit rock bottom and my indulgence, my drug is stale marshmallow Easter bunnies I stole from my kids baskets....obviously not vegan approved and so I am sitting in the privacy of my closet sucking them down in guilt....at least its better than falling off the wagon...or at least the more severe wagon like snorting or shooting up..no, now I'll just be constipated for 2 days.


See, I have had a really shitty week, and quite honestly the only things keeping me sane are my 2 kids and even those are beginning to wear me down a little....even those little fingers pinching my cheeks are not enough to keep the flood gates from crashing down. And the crashing came last night as we sat snuggled on the couch watching Ramona and Beezus....and I just lost it....at the scene where Picky Picky dies...you know the one? Well if you haven't read the book, but at least seen the movie or vice versa...well you know...

Little girl with big sister having to bury family pet in backyard....especially given previous drama and sisterly fight between the two prior to this bring together moment...well-it got me all worked up....and then I just couldn't stop it once it started and then it just kept coming and coming and coming.....try explaining to an 8 year old and 2 year old how something like that epitomized your current situation on so many levels....but who has time for a much needed cry anymore? I had to suck it up, and dry my eyes and usher little heathens to shower and beds, and exhausted I lay there last night unable to sleep...

All I wanted to do was cry until my eyes and heart dried up....I just wanted to be numb.  Strangely, this is what drove me to drugs the first time around and now I am driven to secret rendezvous with the Maytag man and his contents.

I just don't have it in me to cope with anything anymore...and not because I want to be a defeatist or failure or someone who gives up....I just cannot stomach it. I cannot mentally handle it....my brain is going to explode....I could spend an entire hour sitting here trying to come up with something witty to say....some anecdote to relay, something worth reading....but all I can do is lay at night and just toss and turn, staring at the ceiling wondering who the fuck I am and why am I so miserable?

I mean let's start with item No.1: my sister. Or lack thereof.

We have never been close. Blame it on difference in personality. Blame it on me wanting a brother and not a sister. Blame it on the fact that she chose one side and I the other. And the side she hates.  Blame it on unhealthy sibling rivalry. Blame it on people pitting me against her in some battle of who is a success versus the black sheep. Blame it on our genetics. Blame it on environmental reasons. Blame it on me. Blame it on her. Just accept it.


Whatever the case may be, the fact remains we are distant....and yet in the past 2 years I was working really really really hard to make it work. I quite honestly can admit I had found a friend I never knew I had in the one person I resented and disliked the most....ok, second to my father, but still.  We had forged this strained bond that left us for some moments coming together for just the present. To spending time together, to frantic crazy phone calls only us Uresti's would understand for even crazier advice. To weird inside jokes that will leave me laughing for years. I had managed to find a way to relate to someone who is totally unrelatable.

Mind you, I will be the first to admit how envious of her I am....I think I would be a big fat pants on fire liar if I said I didn't get somewhat green thinking of all that she has going on, all that she has accomplished and wondering if I didn't have children would I be the same. But then I realize no. My 1st child saved me from overdosing, and my 2nd has only reinforced it, and so I would be fooling myself and the world if I ever thought I could measure up to half of what my sister is in her professional and academic life. Hell, even her personal life seems way more blissful than mine right now.

But regardless of said envy, I truly had begun to feel like she gave a shit about me and my petty little life.  The reality is with law school, tax journal, internships, booking classes and being the all around "good one", there was little room for the mundane and ordinary aspects of my life in hers....but even so she had made this quantum leap into building something...I don't yet know what....and as luck would have it will never get hte chance to....

I mean lets face it....may be it was meant to be short lived....however fleeting, I will never forget her being there in the room when Max was born (grey, traumatized and all), I will never forget the few moments we have had the past year between phone calls and much needing venting over lunches....

But the truth is it wasn't enough.....here she is four months later still ignoring me, casting me out of Eden so to speak because of some unforgivable sin....an extremely "you know what you did and you must apologize" hissing, and there I was. Alone. Sisterless. Completely alone.  And people wonder why the hell I would have chosen a brother over this bullshit.

The reality is that I don't know what it is I supposedly did, I am not going to apologize, and I don't give a shit. And yet none of this makes me feel any better. None of this makes me sleep any better. And none of this changes that I do in fact give a shit. More than a shit.  And so I toss and turn. And toss and turn.


item No. 2:  my job. I go everyday and work everyday because I have to. Because it's my duty, its what I have to do. Because I am caught up in some lame ass cycle we all are as hardworking Americans where we take on financial obligations and lifestyle changes and sometimes after 2 or 3 or fuck, 20 years working with no substantial change in your salary, and the finances rising and rising.....well you can see how it can be a daunting and bleak outlook on life....I mean I said it before and I will say it again. I am worth more dead than alive.....and lately that dead doesn't look too bad.

I am listless and tired and just plain burnt out on the job, the people, my routine. my life.  I would give anything to stay home with my son, be there with baked cookies when Char gets off the bus, and volunteer 20 hours a week at a soup kitchen or a co-op or something. But spiritual and moral fulfillment never equated keeping a roof over my kids heads....and nowhere in the employment handbook does it talk about passion and being synonymous with your career.

Nope, here I am stuck in a dead end job surrounded by people who laugh at me and wondering how the fuck did I get here. Oh, that's right. I didn't finish college. I didn't gain better employment skills. Or maybe not better but more varied.  And I didn't want it bad enough to change it.


And that keeps me tossing and turning some more.


item No. 3:   my baby boy.  ECI has determined although he is wickedly smart, he is socially lagging behind...say 8 months behind...and speech isn't that far off....so in a nut shell he is 36 month level with his gross and fine motor skills....and 20-22 months on speech...and 16 months socially....

what does that mean you ask? It means he is basically unable to relate to kids his age in any setting....can rough house and play with an 8 year old, but is frustrated to tears with another 2 year old.....

so behavior therapy will take place 45 minutes every week, and the school is still adamant he isn't good enough to stay.....mind you 3 other kids are being seen at that school by ECI services....so we are caught in limbo....every other school whose list we took his name off when getting into this one has a 6 month waiting list....I don't know if we can wait that long....factor in further that he was placed in a class where every other kid is 6-8 months older than him...so now we might move him to the class below the one he's on....which a child we personally know who is only 4 days younger than Max is in.....

I lay awake wondering what I did wrong....whether I ate the wrong thing....skipped a prenatal....do I have bad genes? was it because I couldn't get him to breast feed as long as Charlotte....was it the fact I didn't get to stay home with him? Is it the fact that the gap between him and Charlotte is enough that they both exhibit signs of only child syndrome? Who the hell knows...all I know is that I roll over and watch him sleep...his soft curls, his chubby cheeks, and I ache inside because I don't know if I am mentally equipped to handle this....but I have no choice, and I would move Heaven and Earth for him and Charlotte so I know deep down I have what it takes....

item No. 4:  all this shit doesn't mean anything because I need to be grateful. This is the hardest thing to wrap my brain around, the thing that breaks me out in hives that now cover my chest and neck and leave me a garish red scaly beast. This is the thing that finally brings my restlessness to a close.  The fact that no matter all the previous shit I described, ranted, raved and just plain griped....it doesn't matter because there is so much less I could have.....and what little I do I cherish so much more than my limited vocabulary can express...

 and so it is I leave you with these thoughts that make it worth dragging my ass out of bed....makes it worth taking that deep breath of air each day instead of holding it in until I pass out into oblivion.....

We are never given more than we can handle. Or at least I try and believe this.....its comforting to know that at the very least I am testing my limitations and finding out what exactly I am capable...even if it means I am constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown...

These weary bones of mine ache for change, ache for something more and by God I have to find what it will take to ease the soreness and pain....even if it eludes me, even if it takes a lifetime and I die trying to find it....it's all I can do.

Chocolate Easter bunnies are better frozen and then eaten..and you should always start at the ears first...


and so it is I finally roll over exhausted from the tossing and turning and pass smooth the fuck out...

Suicide, cookies and a half ass chance at being a millionaire...

So-obviously if I am blogging today we know I did not win the Mega Millions....no, alas I failed to make that flight to Maryland to purchase my $600 million jackpot ticket ( ok, so there was really 3 different winners so I guess it would only be $213 million but still), although I am certain the fates intended it for me nonetheless....so I must resign to return to my ho-hum life....minus a new flashy car or ginormous maison...at this point I would just settle for a long overdue raise....or a car with a working A/C because mine decided to take a vacation...or something with 4 walls and no pot smoking asshole neighbors dropping beer bottles on our patio...

Mai non! C'est la vie...ou plutôt que c'est ma vie ... semble être la manière cerise sur le gâteau ....merde de qui se passe est une autre façon de le dire ... mon préféré ...


And so it is I decided to throw out said cookies, to wash the crap off my shoes and  to get a jump start for my Kickstart...another 21 days of veganism...and this time I am actually welcoming it with open arms because I need need in my aching joints and bones, something amazing to happen to change the monotony of my life right now....I mean isn't that how it happens....We have to make change if we want change.....and not in the vague and anti climatic slogan of Obama....no, real change is made in the trenches by real back breaking sweat salt of the Earth type of people...not by weak ass people who talk out their asses instead of actually backing it up with actions...sitting behind desks snacking on Ding Dongs and Debbie Snack Cakes....or my preference, Hot Tamales and Hershey bars....

I am sure that whole thought right there could have been phrased a little more articulately....but you get the gist of it.....I have decided to take action....to do something about the to do list that seems to be growing and growing and growing.....and most of all I have vowed to do something about my attitude....to not lose such hope in life...and to be patient with things, people...with this goddamn computer that keeps crashing while I write this....Maybe karma telling me I should be doing something more productive with my lunch hour....

Either way....I will be choosing to do something better with myself, as myself for the benefit of others during this 21 days....I did however, choose to take the opportunity Sunday to go out with a bang....ate probably at least 5-7 lbs of crawfish ALONE and that's extra extra spicy...not including my husband's that I polished off.....that should tide me over until I decide to venture back to the dark side again....for now I am munching on my hummus and grilled veggies and thinking about the days ahead...

This week started quietly with a visit from ECI yesterday so I escaped the trappings and confines of my job and headed home for a 1/2 day...granted this was met with grunts and grumbles and whispers, but I didn't give a crap....my head wasn't there and my heart had caught a bus out a long time ago....lately I seem to be so burnout I have this "ehhh..shrug" attitude....you know the one....where tons of hard work goes unnoticed and it isn't that you do it to be a martyr....besides I think there's a weight limit for the wooden cross so crucifixion is out and as we can all tell I definitely have a problem with the whole starvation thing....no, its more a "this is my work ethic"and at some point I hold out hope, some sick twisted psycho thought that it would pay off....and by pay off I meant like some sort of validation....pathetic I know....but a thought nonetheless...

so back to me and the Maxx and two really nice ladies from ECI sitting in my cramped and newly painted living room....for 3.5 hours...3.5 hours....of playing and controlled testing, and lots and lots of meltdowns, and I found out the following:


My kid is NOT the dumbass those people at his school thought....he is NOT autistic...his problem solving and fine motor skills are that of a 3 year old and up...what he lacks is socialization skills of a 2 year old which somehow goes hand in hand with the whole speech thing....and so it is we will now have a behavior therapist coming out to our home 1hr a week to work with him....


So I filled out all this paperwork and we put a plan in place.. and so it was I went to bed with a glimmer of hope and a HUGE HUGE overdue sigh of relief that everything would be ok....backed up by a week of good reports from school and I lay there thinking last night that he, we were going to be alright...that all that guilt, all that shame I felt sitting in that initial meeting with the administration and being talked at instead of to....well, here he had the opportunity to remain at the very school he finally was beginning to adjust to...

Well......that was until I received a call first thing this morning..... from the school assistant director who interrogated me with 20 questions about the appointment....before I had a chance to email her about it....She actually sounded pissy that he wasn't handicapped or mentally delayed and then reiterated to me the need for him to be observed at school....that these specialists, people with ACTUAL DEGREES AND CERTIFICATIONS AND TRAINING in these areas couldn't make a full assessment unless he was seen at school... Mind you this was after I dropped him off to a very surprised teacher who had that deer in the headlights look....but they cashed that tuition check as fast as they could.

It took everything I had not to explode, to cry, to scream, to reach through the motherfucking phone and choke the living shit out of this woman....who mind you spends a inordinate amount of time chain smoking across the street from the school....so I wonder how much directing she actually manages to get done....

So in lieu of physical violence and the risk of damaging office supplies and property, I chose to write her a very informative email....I outlined all the results which I also scanned and attached, as well as the plan the caseworker and I had mapped out for him....and most of all I mentioned the 3 things that bothered me most:


+One-that we were asked to provide a family photo his 1st day of school and it has not been hung in the classroom at all.

+Two-that his name was just last week placed on his cubby and his pocket. And there is still no picture of my child on his pocket.

*please note number 1 & 2 are indications with anyone as paranoid and hypersensitive as me that they had no definitive plans for him to stay since day 1.

Was this an error on someones part that he ended up in possibly another child's slot who was higher up in the enrollment list??? And they are just too chicken shit to say anything???

+Three-that the ECI caseworker let me know 4 other kids who attend that school have SEVERE behavior issues, receive services through ECI there at school and are still allowed to attend.


What now, bitch?

No response as of yet, and so it is I am beginning to feel the acid churn and brew and splash around in my hummus filled tummy, and I begin to wonder if I jumped the gun....I mean here I am being told by a child therapist that giving him the boot will only fuck him up more...and this lady is excitedly window shopping for the perfect boot....

Of course that could be my paranoia..or it could be the fact that I couldn't see her face when I heard her tone....yet another reason I hate talking on the phone...so impersonal...but so is this....it's just less painless....

And so I feel a migraine coming on....and then I count to 10, take a deep breath .....

This too shall pass. Right? Or at the very least it will take longer than a few days in a short holiday week...right??? Come on....I need some assurance here....or at the least a Peptid for the tummy thing....

so I direct my attention to my soon to be Friday off....complete with dyeing eggs, more birthday planning for Shark, designing of a t-shirt for her lemonade stand....and finishing some more painting...


Ugh....just thinking about it seems crazy and hectic.....but then it fills me with this inner calmness and joy because I have shit like that to fill my day rather than sitting around alone..depressed and thinking of suicide...

And that isn't an over exaggeration....I have and do and then slap the snot out of myself because that's selfish when I have two wonderful little people counting on me to keep my shit together....it isn't I think about it to be selfish....it's more a I thought about it because I have a life insurance policy and it would take care of Marcus and the kids for a while....


Isn't it ironic that I could work the next 5 years and never make enough to get ahead, but if I kick the bucket it pays out 15 years worth of salary?

Am I the only one who sees something seriously skewed? Or am I just the only one with a really low paying shitty high stress job....I mean I bet the walls of my flabby heart are having a field day....and coming in 12th place...


And so I prepare to go home....where I will finish up the design for the Shark's stand shirts....I need a catchy slogan so inquiring minds please think and strain like you would for a hemorrhoid and let me know....

The sale of each shirt will feed a homeless family or vet.  I also have to finish the posters and send to the printers....at least this is one ginormous thing that makes me feel good....that I have a compassionate enough child that she gives a fuck about others....and recognizes the need to give back...even if its only a little...and even if she still slams her door in my face half the time....

Speaking of which...she just got back her door and has been slam free going on 4.5 days....


So I bid you adieu, bien nuit!