Home sweet home

Back in my apartment now, which is all fine and dandy I suppose. Over the next coming months I have a lot on my plate it would seem. Planning a wedding in a few short months, packing to move, getting rid of my shit that I'm not taking, and not to mention not killing people who irritate the crap out of me.

The last few nights I haven't been sleeping/very well. As soon as I managed to get to sleep last night, or this morning even, the alarm was going off telling me it was time to get up. And even now, I haven't moved from this chair to shower or feed myself because I'm just to damn tired.
And yet, it's 8:45 and I have to be dressed and on my way in 5 minutes.

My shirt is wrinkled, my pants are wet-but quick, as me if I care? Because I don't. I hate my job, and I put just enough effort forward to not get fired. The day I quit will be the happiest day of my life.

Dear Diary,

I understand that when one gets off work at 1am they are wide awake. But perhaps next time you should have a bit more consideration for those who you happen to live with, because I have to now go to work on very little sleep which makes me an angry girl.
If I had known in advance that you were going to be slamming things around and talking loudly I would have not bought you the cute easter thing, and instead purchased a set of ear plugs.
For the love of god, Learn some fucking respect and manners before I move out and leave you here to handle the rent on your own.

Cruel Irony

I spent the day staring at the clock, and now I can't sleep.
Just fucking wonderful. Someone please turn my brain off, thanks!

Another day..

Today is one of those days where I stare at the clock, watching it count down the seconds until I can go back to sleep.

Mornings should be at least after noon.

I have come to the conclusion that my roommate needs to pop that kid out and get on some prozac or something. She gets crabby for no reason, slamming down plates and glasses, stomping around here like the ground has done something to offend her.
Its actually kind of amusing, or would be if I didn't fear for my life.

Not that she'd kill me. But come on, she's 8 months pregant and moody as hell. I leave a dish out and shes liable to snap. But thats not going to make me put the dish away after midnight when I was at work for 7-8 hours. Hahah. Nope!

But she is gone now and peace has been restored to the land of Jen. Thankfully.

Oh, remember how I casually mentioned that writing gig I sent my stuff into? Didn't get it. Knew I wouldn't so I'm not very upset. I mean it'd be nice, but at the same time I am fully aware that most of the world has better writing skills than myself.

I'm mildly irritated with John at the moment. I told him to wake me up at 830 since tomorrow I have to be at work at 930, I figured two days in a row of getting up early would be a good thing.
He called me at 830, and then called me again at 1045.

Seriously?
Sigh. Oh well, I guess the shit I wanted to do today can wait, eh? Nothing pressing, of course.
I'm so crabby. I hate that I gain others emotions through osmosis. I wish my damn roommate would be happier.

The news is depressing

I was coming home today from work and happened to be listening to news radio, this story broke my heart.

"A Lincolnshire day-care center employee was ordered held in lieu of $5 million bail today, accused of killing a 16-month-old boy when she lost her temper and threw him to the ground earlier this week, authorities said...

Scheller said Calusinski was a teacher's aide at the center. She initially told detectives that the child was sitting up and fell backward, hitting his head on the floor. When detectives told her that didn't match their evidence, she allegedly told them she accidentally dropped the child and his head struck a small nursery chair.

Investigators examined the chairs in the room and determined "that's not possible," Scheller said.

When they confronted her with this, the prosecutor said, Calusinski confessed that she was frustrated and became angry because the child was being noisy.

"She demonstrated how she held the child under his arms and slammed him down on the linoleum floor once," Scheller said. "He rolled over, grabbed his blanket, which was in reach, and crawled to a bouncy chair and passed out."

That last part there, that I bolded... Thats the part that made me almost break down crying in my car.

Sometimes, I just seriously fucking hate this world we live in. I can't sleep and can't stop looking up morbid dead baby stories. There is a board for Army wives or something online, and they were debating if a day care provider out of her home, who went to change a diaper in another room, is to blame for a 7 year old in her care unstrapping a baby from its carseat, picking it up and dropping it. May I mention that the law requires her to change diapers in another room.

People are ignorante and hateful.
Its times like these where I strongly believe in the death penalty.

Thursday, Friday, Saturday...etc etc

Thursday afternoon I left school inspired and wanting to go to school full time. I got home and applied at walmart out of desperation and boredom. I grew weary of my house so I headed to Jo's where I lounged on the couch catching up on my CSI and NCIS.

My mother calls, "Where are you?" she asked me, to which I responded that I was at Jo-annes. "Oh, Walmart called." I was shocked, I had filled out the application online less than two hours previous to this call. "Call them.. wait.. Let me find the number." She rumages around and I'm amazed in the span of probably a minute she's lost the post-it that this is written on. "Ok..." she reads it off, "Speak to hope."

Now, for those of you who don't know, I have a little sister named Hope. So if you can imagine I'm confused at this point. "What? Why do I have to call Hope? Isn't she at school anyway?" I asked my mom.

"No, the lady at walmart, her name is Hope."
"ahh, gotcha. Will call."
"And ask them about hiring 16 year olds."
"Will do mom."
"And if they do hire them, can you help Van fill out an application when you get home?"
"Sure thing, Mom."

At this point we say our goodbyes and I call Walmart. Now, I know retail during the holiday season blows. I worked at Toys R' US when I was 16. It sucked majorly. But this is 8.15 and hour with a promised 33 hours a week. Thats almost 1k a month, which isn't bad if you're someone like me. By the time fall rolls around again I should have enough saved up to buy a pony. Not that I want a pony, it's just my example.

Saturday morning, 9:30 AM is when my interview is. I show up at 9:12AM.
See, I have this problem where I fear that I'm going to be late. I hate being late. So I leave really early assuming that whatever traffic I may hit is going to be out of control. I'm visioning rush hour at 9am on Randal. And I'm talking night time Rush hour. I'm just silly, I guess.

They take me in the back room and we go over forms and theres a few questions, like why theres gaps in my employment history. I use School, which is what I always use. It works like a charm. Always.
So after Hope is done asking me questions in comes Lois, head Cashier. (Think Anita, but in a Walmart world.) And Lois is armed with some papers with stupid questions which I answer, examples of how something went wrong, doing the right thing, quality vs. Time etc etc. I spew out what they want to hear and then Lois thanks me and calls in Mike.

Mike is a manager. Asks the same questions, over and over and over. I pass. Then comes in Tim. I joke "Wow, Musical Managers!" A few people laugh, apparently Tim does not have a sense of humor. We go over the drug testing, we go over the policys. He leaves, I skim whatever they put on the screen in front of me. I'm done before he's back so I sit and wait... and wait... and wait. He comes back, "Done already?" I guess most people who work at Walmart read at a 2nd grade level (NO OFFENSE, BUT THE MAN WAS SHOCKED OK!?)
So I joked, "Probably should have warned you I'm a speed reader, huh?" Still no laugh. I've made it my goal to make this man at least crack a geniune smile before I leave. I contemplated farting, since that makes everyone laugh but at this point I was gas free.
Tim leaves and I'm back to Hope, who I started out with.
"Now, they explained about the drug test, correct?" She asked me.
"Nope! But I'm assuming if theres an accident I'll be tested?"
"Well yes, but you also have to get one before we hire you."
"Not a problem."
She fills out the forms and hands them too me. I get told what I'm paid, what the dress code is and then I see myself out. She said as long as the test comes back clean I should expect a call mid week. So, I have a job.

Then I came home to babysit Emily who wanted nothing more than to go outside. I explained several times that a.) She had no boots and b.) I wasn't go to get her boots since I had no carseat. This did not make the child happy. Coolwhip on the other hand, did.
Snack was gingerbread. Or I should say, was supposed to be gingerbread (She didn't want the Pumpkin shaped pretzels or the cheese crackers, Sorry!) so she liked the gingerbread, and I don't. But I wasn't going to get something she didn't have because then she'd just want mine. So I covered mine with half a container of cool whip. She got a huge dollop.

So I guess what I"m saying is, we both had delicious cool whip for snack.

For dinner I made hotdogs. And by made, I mean microwaved. (I am a slave to the kitchen.) and for dessert I put food coloring in the applesauce to make it "Princess Pink!" and added some cool tiedyed butterfly sprinkles to it.
She had two bites of both the hotdog and the apple sauce and opted to instead, wander through the house with the whole wheat bun in her hand occasionally shoving it in my face. I couldn't even get mad at her since the one thing she ate all of was the healthiest thing on her plate!

My parents finally get home, and I go grab my purse. My sister Hope got her Sugar gliders in. (Flying squirrel things.) I wanted to see them. It quickly resulted in "Oh Jenny, get it out of the closet!" and "Jenny, can you catch it?"

I finally escaped that madness only to realize I left not only my ID downstairs, but my purse upstairs.. where they are trying to catch a squirrel. Great. Head back upstairs and wait until it's safe for me to go in. When I finally do my mom looks at my purse and says, "Oh Hi Alex!"
Which confuses me greatly but I leave, and fast.

I get in the car, drive to Andreas where I play some rockin' guitar hero and then babysit for some more. This time it's a three month old who really has no idea who I am. I fed her while drinking a mikes hard lemonade. (Bottle for baby, bottle for me!) and contemplated a nap. While heading to the kitchen to make bottle number two I twist (My already swollen and sore knee, not sure how hurt it to begin with.) my knee and start limping as I resist the urge to curl up in a ball holding my knee and crying. I make it back to the chair with the bottle in hand and resume feeding the baby.

After that bottle is done with Andrea comes back and I have to tell her that I need to go home because I've done something horrible and bad to my knee. I need a doctor, an icepack and my teddy bear. She understands and hugs me goodbye. I get halfway back to the car and magically my knee no longer makes me wince every time I step. I don't understand it, but it's still swollen and sore. Good job me!

I get home an hour later and crawl into bed. I plug in my phone, call John and then go to sleep. I woke up the next morning with cramps from hell. Decided I needed my heating pad and then went back to sleep. Woke up around noon with the strangest desire to eat oatmeal, which anyone who live(s)(d) with me will tell you, I'm not a huge fan of oatmeal.

I ate my oatmeal and then sat around doing jack shit for the rest of the day. Went to Applebees after I remembered Amy B. and I had a study session planned. had two drinks and a 6 dollar steak before helping close the bar, getting hit in the head with a brandy snifter, and having water squirted at me. Headed home and crawled into bed once more.

This morning I woke up and sat around for a really long time. Eventually I wandered upstairs to inquire about food, and then back downstairs to do nothing. Big Jenny and the kids show up so I drag myself upstairs yet again, (It was really this thrilling. And its now 1am. My desire to be witty is GONE.) this time armed with a book and every intention of sitting and reading. Which I guess is what I did. With a bit of chasing and wandering and laundry thrown in.

Long story short, dinner was good. Its amazing how the kids being over makes dinner pleasant and not at all silent and brooding like it normally is. We should have kids over more often, no one gets yelled at (Read: I don't get yelled at.) which is something I'm really fond of.

There was cake, cake, more cake and did I mention the cake?
Goodness I want some cake :(
<== Me eating cake batter. After everyone left I headed back down to the bat cave to sit around and finish reading my book... that I had started around 4pm when everyone got there. finished it around 9pmish. It was a really good book. I find it comforting to read the tales of a waiter, and like how for once I can relate to something I read and has nothing to do with Turgid members or dewey love petals.

After that I realized that I wasn't tired, (Am now! This typing stuff is EXHAUSTING!) so upon learning that Emily(Friend Emily, not Niece Emily. See Right.) ==>
had her birthday on the 8th of November (Previously believed to be the 11th of November, how drastically wrong was I?) so I, feeling guilty, told her to put on some pants and I'll come pick her up to take her for pancakes. Genius plan, right? Right. So we head to the Ihop.

For those of you who don't know of Ihop, you should be ashamed of yourselves. And that is all I'm going to say on that matter. I had a feast of breakfast food and by the end of it, I dropped Emily off and headed home. I finally got home, my knee having enough fun, aching with every step as if to remind me that I should really go see a doctor and stop walking on it so damn much.

And thats where I met you, Mr. Blog. In a dark corner of my room with a diet coke in one hand and my cell phone in the other, calling John to tell him I got home safe. And now that I have written a small novel about the last few days of my life, I'm going to take my pants off, crawl into bed and get some much needed and deserved sleep. Because 7AM comes super fast on Mondays and before you know it, its 3am and you're wondering why you're still awake.

On a side note: Eventually I will go to the doctor. Just like I do for all my ailments. When they become far to painful to manage and I'm crying because I am absolutely miserable. I'm not there yet though!

5:43 Am.. The clock ticks on

I haven't been sleeping lately. Scratch that, I have been sleeping- just not at times that one would deem normal. John left on the 26th and my heart broke. I don't know why, but I haven't been sleeping and I've been in this funk that I can't shake myself out of no matter what I do or try.

I miss him.

I've been drawing more. Not sure why I started again, guess I thought it would make me happy, or smile about something. Nope. I'm constantly reminded that I'm not good, will never be good, or good enough for people around me to like what I've drawn.
I should just stick to writing.

Which is what this is. A fresh start for a fresh new chapter of my life. We're calling it "Year 22." I'm practically a vintage. I feel old. I feel like shit.

And the best part about it all?
I was in the same place I am now 4 years ago. I still have so much growing up to do. I don't know if I can handle all of this. I want to move out, I want a job.. But then I lack the motivation to do anything about it. And sitting in my room all day just makes me sad and angry. I'm lonely and depressed and I can't even be arsed to fix it.

I can't even be bothered to lay down and sleep...