Difficult

It's been a difficult year.

Everyone says difficult when they really mean shitty.  It's been awful.  I lost my job, lost a friend (still not sure why), moved back in with my dad and got a menial job.

I do have one friend left in the area.  She's wonderful and her two kids are wonderful and her dog is wonderful and I love them.

It makes me happy to know that I can still keep a friend.  It gets so much harder the older you get and the older you get, the more lonely you feel when you're alone.

Therapy

I've been to several therapists since being diagnosed with "Clinical Depression" (which sounds totally made up right? Like there's nothing else to call it and everything else was taken so they said, meh, whatevs, that works).

There was the French-Canadian lady who was forever asking me, "Why do YOU think you're depressed?"

Really? French-Canadian lady? That's what passes as therapy in Canada? Well here in America, we're paying YOU to tell US why we're depressed.

I hated her. My dad hated her too since she cost $100 an hour, so we said, "Bye French-Canadian!"

Hello, Blonde-Shrink.

Blonde-Shrink was always always late for appointments. I mean I know that things come up and her patients are upset and junk, but my dad and me sitting in a room together for 20 minutes with nothing to talk about is almost grounds for murder. Right there. You're an accomplice to murder Blonde-Shrink. How you feel about them apples?

Blonde-Shrink gave me medicine, and I was nominally ok for awhile. Then I went to college and stopped seeing her and also stopped taking my crazy pills. (In this case the pills make me NOT crazy)

Years went on, I spiraled into a pit of depression and decided to get my head shrunk again.

I went to see Blonde-Therapist (not to be confused with Blonde-Shrink). She helped some in discovering my triggers and helping me work through my issues instead of hiding in the bathroom, but she moved.

Blonde-Therapist...moved...away...from...me...

So I said, ummm, I'll be ok!

NOT!

I found Grommet Jacket-Shrink. She's cool. She's rarely late and always has a festive new jacket encrusted with Grommets for me to stare at.

Unfortunately, crazy pills weren't enough. So I tried to find another therapist.

Enter, New Age lady.

New Age lady is awesome. She interprets dreams, she's fun, she lets me take my shoes off, she helped me to understand that when I don't want to talk about something is when I should.

Also she promised not to move for at least 3 years.

Hopefully I'll be adjusted by then.

Irritants

Oh geez, today was a trying day.

I am oh so glad to be home, watching...whatever is on TV, I'm not sure, but anyway...

My whole life I've had trouble not being mad at people. I mean, I always have friends and junk, but the people who don't understand my drive, humor and compassion tend to irritate the hell out of me. And since my mom wouldn't let me become a pop star, I have an office job which means I'm around annoying people on an almost daily basis.

I've bitten my tongue so many times in my life I might have permanent teeth indentions in it, but for as many times as I've bitten my tongue, I've spoken my mind and gotten angry or even.

God help me continue on my tongue biting streak.

Imagination killed the radio star

I have a constant stream of songs playing in my head.

Even if I have a song stuck in my head I can easily flush it out with another song in the library.

A constant need for music makes it hard for me to function in a quiet environment, which I guess is why my brain started playing it's own track list, 24/7, no commercials, no breaks.

Sometimes it gets a little annoying or ridiculous, or a song from 10 years ago will pop up and make an appearance, but the best part is, it's all mine.

I'm the only one who can hear it. I don't have to be embarrassed that I'm listening to the Jonas Brothers or ABBA or Hanson, it's all mine. Corralled into the infinite space between my ears, shuffling, looping, never ending music.

Not funny

So, here's the deal.

I consider myself a HILARIOUS person. I mean, I'm just plain funny, but my family does not get me.

My parents get me. They think I say the darnedest things, but recently I was locked up with my aunts and cousins for a couple days and they just did not think it was funny. And by it I mean, anything I said. Ever. I wasted some of my best material on them! I mean, come on guys, try to think I'm awesome.

Anyway, there have been two giant vultures hanging around the front of my office building and they were scaring people, so I said, "Fuck that! I'll show those birds what's up!" After I decided this, I proceeded to run at them like a bird. I crouched down, and ran at them, like the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park.

I totally ran them off! TOTALLY!!! Then I found out they had laid an egg there and I was lucky not to have gotten pecked to death.

THEN! I found out the "egg" was a pellet. A nasty, skeleton filled, fur ridden pellet.

What a...weird sequence of events.

Anyway!

Bye!

What do you want to be?

One of the most asked questions is, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Well, when I was younger I really wanted to be a veterinarian. I loved animals, they loved me; it seemed win win! Then I discovered my crippling inability to deal with blood and guts of any kind, even my own. (side note: a week or so ago I had to get blood drawn for blood tests. I cried like a baby and my mom had to come calm me down) So I crossed vet off the list.

I love to sing, maybe I can be a singer, I thought. My mom crushed those dreams for me at a young age saying that wanting to be a performer was not practical. Ok...fine.

In high school I finally settled on Advertising. It allowed me to be creative and bossy. Two things I love. The only problem was, finishing the school I needed in order to be a captain of industry.

School bores me. I love learning, but hate the rigid environment of going to class at a certain time every day, turning in assignments on time and so on and so forth. Basically, everything that school is about.

I did take one Advertising class that I did very well in. I also took an Archaeology class I did better in. Maybe I'll be an Archaeologist, thought I.

Unfortunately, there isn't much demand for Indiana Jones type discovery digs these days. I would make little money and would have to fall back on teaching. In a school. Every year of my life.

Well crap.

I moved home and got a job at the company my mom worked for when I was growing up and found I had a real knack for it (but, not to be conceited, I tend to have a knack for anything I put my mind to, I just really like to be the best). Cool! I'll just do this!

Then the other day I helped Freckles with her homework and found, I really miss learning. I decided I want to enroll in school and finally finish! YAY!

Now the age-old question arises...What do I want to be when I grow up?

Damn.

Sick

I feel like my lungs might explode and that my throat is slowly being eaten away. In other words. I'm sick. Bleh.

I hate being sick, mainly because I'm not very good at it. I don't get sick that often (well really really sick), but when I do it lasts for eons or something close to it. I've been sick for 5 days and counting. I was taking antibiotics, but to no avail. And here I am, at work.

I want to go home :(