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prisms of a sharp mind... voices who are dreams calendar singular deepest flower up comes yesterday up comes yesterday buries a tomorrow buries a tomorrow
Exhaling a Red Soul
...crumpled collapses into the dark
Well, today turned into a fairly shitty day. Suddenly the water company job seems to be dissolving before my eyes. I still have that Territory Assistant thing I can do, but I really was looking forward to something low-key. I still don't know yet, she's supposed to call me tomorrow.
Then on top of that at my current vassalage I found out that this .... fucking bitch, that's what she is - I can't think of any other way to describe her (actually I can but I'm trying to be nice), who was the assistant manager (yeah, like she actually did anything to deserve that title) whose last day was yesterday apparently suggested that all of her days go to another employee. I've been stuck working only 2 god damn days a week for almost two months now. Thankfully I had a bunch of crap to sell on ebay. She has been playing it like she's my friend, and then she stabs me in the back. I don't get it. I swear on all that is sacred to me that I can't for the life of me think of one heinous thing I have ever done to her to deserve this shit. I actually trained the woman how to use a computer - she'd never used anything but the in-house program at Sally's Beauty Supply (I was going to say something about this, but I'm sure your imaginations can come up with plenty of derogatory remarks on their own). The fact of the matter is that I believe, as well as anyone else who knows the situation, she has felt threatened by me (not that I was ever after her shit-ass job, I was just looking at ways to get more money out of the owner doing extra work - I AM NOT STAYING HERE, and they've know that. I'm waiting for this fucking house to sell.) and she knows I'm smarter than her. But what the fuck?! She's leaving! She bought the store next door. And the bitch is actually giving me grief on the way out. She knows the situation my Mom and I have been in and how I need the extra cash. I could just scream.
And the fucking owner, he can't stand me because I was less than thrilled about the measly (that isn't even the proper word for how little it really is in the grand scheme of the compensation I should have received) $200 he gave me for COMPLETELY installing a POS system in his store, oops I forgot about the quarter raise now I'm raking in $8.25 per hour - fuck what is wrong with me! The sonofabitch cuts me down to two days a week after I explicitly asked him about this and he said getting 4 days wouldn't be a problem. He of course wanted to fire me for saying, "Well, I know you need that two days pay more than I do Dave." I couldn't help myself, up to this point I was trying to explain the situation I was in and how he had told me previously that the 4 day arrangement wouldn't be a problem and he kept saying, "Well, it's a seasonal business" which essentially was "I don't fucking care slave, take your two days and kiss my feet." This is the same man who gave a box of 18 chocolates as a Christmas bonus for the entire store staff, one box when he normally takes everyone out to eat but he had a "rough year with the hurricanes" - hey genius, we weren't even hit by any hurricanes last year, it was the year before fucker. He actually altered his profit by $100000 for his taxes so he could show a loss, I have a feeling his accountant didn't go for that. I know I'm partly to blame for staying in this situation with (suck, lol I was just rereading and noticed this little slip, I meant to say-) such awful people, but for fuck's sake! Why are people like this?!!! It's a god damn little store on the beach, you'd think I was working with some barracuda, fuck-bastard executives on Wall Street.

Well, I feel much better after that venting. I've been stewing all day on this. I think I have also reached my swearing quota for today. Now you see how I can get when I'm mad - he, he.

Current Mood: infuriated infuriated
silenceofsound: Satellite - BT

What say you poet!
The last couple of days have been weird.

In case you didn't know, my financial situation has been abysmal. Because of this I have been daily beseeching the fates to throw something my way. I did do a little footwork. Made some calls, surfed Careerbuilder, bought another lottery ticket (hat-cha-cha).

I came up with two interviews. Neither are stellar places, but anything is better than the hole I'm in now. Just as I was about to leave on Monday for one interview the phone rang and this girl from the water company, who I interviewed with a couple of months ago, called and asked if I was still interested. Talk about out of the blue. I mean, I was literally almost out the door to this interview and she calls.

Now, the water company isn't exactly my primo career choice (so totally not), but it's EXTREMELY close to home. Plus there's apparently a fair amount of downtime in which I can play solitaire, knit, or even write. Sign me up. I still went to the other interview today, because nothing has exactly been set in stone. I decided against my usual "jump right in" approach and told her I needed till Wednesday to think about it. So, I've thought and thought, and thought it did have a bit of a predestined feel to how it came about so suddenly. Plus, for logical reasons to aid in my art it makes sense - yay!

So, through a mixture of invoking the Cosmos, and letting my fingers (or mouse) do the walking I seemed to have struck a bit of luck. Granted this doesn't exactly cover all my problems financially, but heck, maybe the divine plan includes a winning lottery ticket (crosses fingers) :)
1 poet put on purple thought ~*~ What say you poet!
I finished the first page of my would-be article today!

I had ended up pushing my 11:00am appointment to write today all they way to 1pm (bad Aimee). Although it was only for a few hours, they were most productive. I had about 3 different semagic files plus a notepad file that I divided up into 3 separate documents: First Paragraph, Middle, End. For some reason this made the whole aspect of doing this more manageable. After this I managed to sift through all the crap for the first paragraph (really section, I guess I should just say 'Beginning') and turned out a pretty good first page.

I don't know if I should really consider this as a "first draft" because I wrote a lot already. There's still a lot to write, but I've got a framework down. This really shouldn't take that long, but for my first try I'm not going to be too hard on myself.

I also gave myself a liberal deadline for this. I want it completed and in the mail (god knows where) by the end of the month. Otherwise what started out as an article might turn into a book, which I'm just not ready for right now. I just have this big desire to get this story out there despite the mental tug of war I have to play with myself so I sit down at my computer and actually write.

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Current Mood: accomplished accomplished

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Bridget Jones Diary is on, woopee. Boy, if I didn't feel like a lonely dolt before I certainly do now.

It's so bizarre to see Dr. Baltar as a "total puff".

Side note: Colin Firth is dreamy.

Current Mood: blech
silenceofsound: Bridget Jones Diary on TV

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So thynk2much tagged me. Once tagged by this entry, write a blog entry of some kind with six random facts about yourself. In the end of it, pick six of your friends and tag them! (No tag backs.) This explanation must be included, of course.

1. I know how to bind books by hand. I have only made three though. It's pretty cool. I should really get back into that.

2. I've had over 25 jobs in my lifetime. One of them being a pizza delivery driver. It sucked because I made crap money but it was definitely an experience I'll never forget and will always look back on fondly. I'm reading Bird by Bird now and I have a sinking feeling that I, like Anne Lamott, am "completely unemployable" - shit.

3. I love decorating for holidays. I love all the holiday themed garlands and lights that have come out in the last couple of years. I'm a kitschy freak that way.

4. I am currently owned by four cats. It's a Brady Bunch story really. I have two boys, my Mom has two girls. I moved back in to help my Mom out. Now we have much more than a family.

5. I nearly moved to Mexico when I was five. My Dad was going for some job, he was an artist in advertising. I don't remember much other than eating a hideous hamburger during a blackout and having a pinata for my birthday. Candy raining from the heavens when you're five is as close to a religious experience as you're gonna get.

6. One of the best desserts I've ever had was a raspberry creme brulee at a restaurant near Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco. I'm an Amelie freak so I was so excited to crack it with my spoon.


Unfortunately I have just recently returned from a fairly long hiatus from LJ and haven't had the time to make a bunch of friends so the tag stops here. I'm hoping to remedy this with my charming wit and clever banter in the near future ;)

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Current Location: on my flat pancake of an ass - argh, sat too long in one place
Current Mood: amused amused

4 poets put on purple thought ~*~ What say you poet!
So here's the email I sent my Mom's lawyer today:

"Lori,

Here's the situation. We are drowning here. Please let me know who I need
to talk to have the courts protect my Mother financially.

Jack(ass) has only paid my Mom $1000 this month, and that was after much
cajoling. The only thing that she is not responsible for now is the
mortgage and pool upkeep. This was on the $2000 that the judge awarded
her. He says he doesn't have any money and that he will probably not pay
her anything next month. How should this be my Mom's problem unless he was
hit by some natural disaster? Granted if I had the choice I would not want
him back in the house, but we did not force him to move out and take on a
$1000+ per month lease, not including utilities. So now because of his
poor planning my Mom is the one who's getting stuck. If he's even telling
the truth about his financial situation. Everyone I talk to say he has to
be lying because he can't be that stupid to move into a place when he
already is financially strapped. Also I'm told, he's just trying to scare
her into either crazily lowering the price or taking some ludicrously low
settlement on the house.

What will the courts do to protect her? What if he stops paying the
mortgage? What then? If the house gets foreclosed on, what is my Mother
entitled to? We are dealing with a crazy, dishonest person here - what can
we do? There has to be some way to protect her.

She has spent nearly or over $15000 on this divorce which is three
quarters of the $20000 you guestimated this divorce would cost BOTH
parties total if both parties were really difficult. This entire time I've
asked you if she was being unreasonable and you have always said that if
anything she was too reasonable. If this is the case why is she totally
getting screwed? I'm sorry, but it's just getting out of hand, it's been
out of hand. And I feel like no one is really looking out for my Mother
and I don't know how to help her. What can I do? Should I write a letter
to the judge? I'm at the end of my rope.

And what about the house being listed? And where's the pension money? How
long is this stuff supposed to take? What about the hearing? Has a
petition been filed about listing it with someone else? What's going on
with that?

Please don't take this note as something berating because that is not my
intention at all. But we are in dire straights here.

Please advise,
Aimee"


I so fucking frustrated. Everything was supposed to be DONE in March. Here it is August and we're still suffering through. I could run screaming through the streets...probably naked. I could really. (Oh, I couldn't help but add the ass to Jack because he exemplifies the term perfectly - this was NOT included in the actual email, only here for dramatic affect.)

This divorce has been much more complicated than it ever should have been. My parents aren't millionaires to spend this kind of cash over what? Had he been even a semi-reasonable person from the get go (he wanted my Mom to settle for $200000 on a property that we are currently asking $875000 for), we all would have been long gone from this situation almost two years ago and he would have saved himself some money. Ass.


thynk2much sent me a big, juicy steak to chew on, and I started reading "Art & Fear" AGAIN. There's so much I'm trying to sort out. I feel like, with so many things, I'm just missing the mark. It seems that the answers to my questions are just in my periphery and leave me feeling as if I'd almost seen a spirit. If I could just move my eyes fast enough ... I've found that most truth is not a matter of really learning. At least it doesn't feel like learning to me. It's more like suddenly noticing the obvious, something that's always been there, that you always had a sense of, but never took the time to really look at.

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Current Mood: pissed off pissed off

2 poets put on purple thought ~*~ What say you poet!
The funny thing is that "Funky Town" was playing and I only noticed it suddenly when I was just smiling at the accents when I heard "gotta move on".

Hmmm, is the Universe trying to tell me something? ha

Current Mood: wistful

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Not a nice one like the Doctor's. No, no, mine only seems to suck time away.

CHRIST I need to get the hell out of Florida.

Current Mood: sleepy sleepy

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There's an exercise in the book that essentially has you try to observe yourself objectively as a stranger. Go through your day, your actions, etc. How does the picture of you, and what you do strike a complete stranger. Where's the story, where' the truth, where's the meaning...yadda, yadda, yadda.

I hate to wax Maisel but meaning is all about it. Is that what life is all about, making meaning. Sifting through experiences to find the diamonds of truth (boy that sounded cliche) - is that what it's all about? How many of us miss the mark? How many of us don't care at all? Or do we all care, but some just choose to live in denial about it.

That's what stories are, vehicles for truth whatever that truth might be. There has to be a point. Is the point ever a lie? Even then, is the lie somehow truth. Now I'm getting goofy.

I love how thynk2much can write these long concise essays about whatever she happens to be going through. Short bursts seem to be my modus operandi. I don't seem to have a coherent thought that lasts more than a sentence or two.

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Current Mood: confused confused
silenceofsound: As You Fall - Bent

4 poets put on purple thought ~*~ What say you poet!
I am trying to take myself by the hand gently with this whole writing thing. But I feel the pressure bearing down to do something. I have the time now and still I balk at the idea of sitting down and working at it. Why do journal entries seem ever so much less intimidating than working on something for possible publication? That's a rhetorical question really. We all know how unbelievably terrifying it can be to really put yourself out there. But isn't this whole journal the same thing, granted on an EXTREMELY smaller scale since I doubt anyone reads this crap.

Writing is one of the most difficult things you can do. It seems like it should be easy, if you're talented at any rate. When that thought crosses your mind you automatically think, "Well maybe I'm not talented." Not to toot my own horn but I do feel I've come up with a good sentence or two, not that I have any unbiased opinions to the contrary on that so... I don't know where I'm going with this. No where I guess. This is just an outpouring of fear and insecurity over what may in fact be my calling in life - suck.

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Current Mood: anxious anxious

1 poet put on purple thought ~*~ What say you poet!
I was just weeding out some old seamagic files. I start these things then forget about them. I copied down these two lines from somewhere and I've been trying to figure out where they came from for the last couple of days. I think it's from Six Feet Under, one of the first episodes. If not, I apologize to whoever came up with these.

I like knowing the space between my ears is immeasurable.

Respecting someone for being a mess because you're a mess too.

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Current Location: in house now, hot outside

What say you poet!
I've been thinking about those ten things and I've come to the conclusion they're just bullshit. Well not complete bullshit, but they're trappings at best. A comfortable t-shirt that I happen to wear. Not really who I am.

1. I am loyal to a fault. If we truly become friends you have to do something pretty extreme for me to drop you completely.

2. I beat dead horses until they're a fine pink mist. I don't tend to be a quitter. I can be rather stubborn at times let's just say which I have experienced as both blessing and curse.

3. I have big dreams. I've always felt that I was meant to do something - arrogant huh. Now only if I knew what that something was.

4. I'm extremely passionate. I love to love all types of things.

5. I'm a fighter. I will debate you till the last breath if I truly believe in my point. But I do concede the point if you've convinced me I'm wrong. I am not immovable.

6. I think it's important to be free to be yourself despite what others might think or judge. I try not to judge others. The world is filled with such a wonderful variety of people with such amazing, unique stories to tell and I'd never want to quell that. For myself, I think I either subconsciously or consciously allow the fear of what others may think of me stifle me too often. It's something I wrestle with all the time. It's one think to cognitively know something, but to actually feel it in your heart is another.

7. I am creative at heart, but I've allowed life to get in the way of my creativity. It's been a continual battle to release my spirit.

8. I am sometimes afriad of living. In my opinion, contrary to others, I have not taken enough real chances to make a difference in my life or anyone elses. To others it may seem that I've taken the road less traveled, but the road I've chosen always seemed the easier - it's time that I chance, oops slip there, change that about myself.

9. Sometimes I feel crazy. I hate feeling this way. I wonder if everyone feels this way or if it's just me. Maybe crazy isn't the right word. Lost, lost is probably more appropriate. Being lost can being a very panic/crazed inducing experience, so I guess that's right.

10. I've just recently come back to writing after, shesh, almost 20 years. It's been a long and crooked path back to this first dream. When I look back on my life from this vantage point I see that I've really been avoiding doing this the whole time. Maybe it's time to start.

So there's some real meat for ya kiddies.

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Current Location: outside on the lanai :) (gotta love laptops!)
Current Mood: introspective

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Talk about some interesting dialog. I don't know how the actors can say this crap with a straight face.

"Would you mind if I took a few off your hands?"
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I can't imagine writing anything that isn't based from somewhere in my life right now. I know that's completely egocentric, but I'm really immersed in my life right now. Thinking about this more I really mean to say that I want to see purpose in my life, to create something meaningful out of my experiences. There has to be some kind truth that has been exposed in going through these events.

I was sitting with my Mom today and she was talking about the time of when my Grandmother died. I have an Uncle who has been diagnosed with manic depression/borderline schizophrenia. He is 56 or 57. He has been institutionalized since he was 19. And unfortunately, he is one of the few patients who actually has worsened with age. My Mom was remembering when she and my aunts had to go visit him in the hospital he lives in to let him know my Grandmother had passed. There are no words for me to describe how remembering this time makes feel right now.

I thought about the mental illness in our family - my Uncle. I thought about how it has affected all of us, what has it taken from us and given. There's a story there; there's some truth to be gleaned. I can just feel it.

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I just came across this project. Talk about sado-masochistic. Although, it might be an interesting experiment to try.

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This looks like an interesting movie. I felt slightly uncomfortable watching, but then had this urge to laugh hysterically. Weird.

silenceofsound: The Daily Show - woo!

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From Slaughterhouse-Five:

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Pilgrim," said the loudspeaker.
"Any questions?"
Billy licked his lips, thought a while, inquired at last:
"Why me?"
"That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim.
Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? because
this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in
amber?"
"Yes." Billy, in fact, had a paperweight in his office which
was a blob of polished amber with three ladybugs embedded
in it.
"Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of
this moment. There is no why."

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Current Location: work - argh

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Too cool. I guess there's a celebrity roast of William Shatner on Comedy Central this weekend.

Their slogan is "The Shat hits the fan" - awesome.

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Current Mood: amused amused

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I was thinking earlier about a particular part of that Guardian interview:

"acting as therapy (he's against it) and the actor's responsibility to the story (he's for it)"

Acting and writing are different art forms but art forms nonetheless. So being art forms, do they both act upon the spirit in the same manner? I'd think not.

I do see writing as therapy, especially when writing so often flows from such personal wounds. Perhaps I'm seeing this wrongly. But what I want to write, what I'm seeking through the process of writing, IS a sort of therapy; a process of transforming that which I've experienced emotionally into something meaningful.

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I've decided to do something to remedy my sorely lacking library of read books. A lot of classics, or just those status books that you should have read to be considered well-read.

I got Slaughterhouse Five from the library. I was just reading it and I thought to myself, how many people read this very book? Who were they? What was going on in their lives while they were reading it? Would they think back to a certain event whenever they came across Slaughterhouse Five in a library or bookstore? Where did they read the book? Were they not wearing underwear like I am now because I've forgotten to do the laundry again?

All these strange little questions go through my mind while trying to read through the page.

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silenceofsound: Here With Me - Dido

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