Sorry I haven’t been posting much lately. Everything just seems to be so bleak for me right now. I know it’s probably not as dark as it seems, but my mind just can’t get to the point where I see more light than I do dark. Sure, I’ve been able to post a few things here and there. But I know it’s all dry, boring stuff. Not the normal artistic pieces or witty banter. I just can’t bring myself up anymore.
Haven’t even touched anything creative in days, and that was only a sketch of an idea for a new painting (which The Man immediately expressed his displeasure about). I definitely can’t paint right now because I have no canvas. So in a fit of desperation and doubt the other day, I sadly and tearfully put my art supplies away. Not out of sight, just away. Easel folded up and against the wall. Paints all in their proper place. Work table folded up and put in the garage where it always stays until I need it. My Muse is just not cooperating with my dark side. She never has. Never will. And I guess that’s a good thing, right?
I think what’s causing most of my strife is the fact that I’m completely out of money and rent is due in less than 10 days. I can’t face homelessness. And I can’t face not getting the mortgage paid for my wonderful landlords. They’re such awesome people. Makes me feel so sick inside to be such a failure in their eyes. I just couldn’t take it. Someone else in my family fucked them over and they STILL took me in without hesitation. None whatsoever. Of course that was back when I could pay two months’ rent in advance.
A “friend” I’ve known for years has been riding me for several months to let him and his wife help me out. I kept telling them that I could manage. But when it became apparent that I was in need, I finally reached out. That was 19 days ago. And he keeps making excuses. I used to give this man the highest respect you could give a person. He’s a moody man, always writhing in self-doubt and loathing, and I’ve always been there to bring him back up out of his hole. EVERY DAMN TIME. Starting to rethink our whole friendship of over 20 years. If he avoids me tomorrow, then he’ll get a “thanks but fuck you” email from me and that will be that.
No room for people like that in my life. But I really do need his help. There’s no one else at this point. And I want the work he’s been promising me, even if he never paid me for it. He’s writing a novel (by hand) and asked me if I would transcribe and edit and give it much polish – which I’m pretty damn good at. I love work like that.
If my former bosses would just pay me what I’m owed (grand total of about $40,000 from the previous owner and the new owners) then I could proceed. I love doing my work for STEAM Register. I really do. It’s a passion of mine and I’ve been keeping my head buried in that as much as possible. But with the knowledge that I won’t start being paid for at least another 6 months (if I can get the numbers up that is), it’s more than an uphill battle than ever. And yet I still fight on, more and more every day. I don’t know if the stubborn streak is positive or negative in this case. But there you have it. Passion for one’s work should never be this painful and debilitating.
And then there’s this. You know that dirt road behind my house? At the beginning of that road is a roofing company. A company owned by people who live on my street. People my sister’s family has known for years and years and years. My nephew is even working there right now. The Man came home from work after another double shift (I’ll get to that next) yesterday morning and after his nap told me he heard through the grapevine the company needs an assistant or something like that. Private office and everything. Sounds great right? Yeah, well, the thought has me tied up in terrible knots. OUTSIDE?! PEOPLE?! GERMS?! Of course at this point it’s still not a sure thing. The Man hears a lot and mixes his information up quite often. Even his brain is dyslexic LOL.
Now, on to those double shifts he’s been having all week. Not that I mind having him out of the house at night sometimes. When he’s home he does nothing but down tallboys until he’s nonsensical, spastic and stupid. And by “downing” a tallboy, well, let’s just say the next step to faster would be that funnel shit the college boys love so much. He doesn’t always drink that much, but when he does I WISH he was working instead and out of my hair. And I never know which days he chooses to get stupid. But those double shifts have another bonus side. Next week’s paycheck will be a decent one, but definitely not enough to pay the rent and the other bills he’s finally taken on (when he can remember). But it would help for sure. Cats and Wally are due for another round of flea drops (by Monday actually if I go by the calendar notes I keep). Can’t have them itchy. I hate that.
The extra money will also help me replenish my healthier food selections. It’s true you know. Eating options when you’re poor and depressed are limited to crap, crap and then more crappier crap. There have been so many days lately where I’ve simply chosen not to eat. Sure, I’ll eat a cucumber or some tomato slices and a piece of cheese, but not a full meal. I hate that cheap processed crap. I do have some tomatoes, a few jalapenos and some green onions. I may make some salsa tonight and brave that bag of Munchos sitting in the back of the pantry. They’re an addiction for me, but one I’ve learned to control. If only he would quit bringing them home. I’ve trained him to stop bringing me candy corn and nutty bars, but he’s not getting the message about the dam Munchos.
By the way, this video will explain what my addiction to Munchos sounds like. Oh shit. I actually threw in some humor there didn’t I? Damnit. And I tried so hard not to. Oh well. Watch it and laugh. We all need a good laugh.
And this is where I leave you. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.
PS. Thanks for the job tip, Mom. But it’s an internship leading to permanent. Work three months for free THEN you MAY get the job. While I would love to work for a busy writer, I can’t do it for free! I’m already 6 months in to my current “volunteer” job. Sheesh. I often begin to wonder, “Are people really NOT paying attention to my plight? Or am I just not expressing myself correctly?”