Yesterday was THE most bullshit day ... EVER. My sister called me at 5:15 a.m., for some reason thinking that I don't keep the phone by me and that she would just leave a message. Guess what, I never went back to sleep so ate breakfast around 6:30 a.m. I had to drive to San Antonio in torrential (like Noah's Flood) rain, rain that I would never think to drive in but I had that interview and had to keep going. Left very early because of the rain and so that I could grab a drive-thru wrap or something to eat. Well, the rain, poor visibility, traffic and a horrible accident that happened about 15 miles from the SA city limits put the kibosh on that. As we passed the scene of the accident I thought, 'well, that will be a lesson for all of us, especially those who were trying to drive like it was dry, to be careful'. That so did not happen. So I barely got to my interview on time, without any lunch and had back to back interviews from noon to 4:30 p.m. This is not their fault by any means. But I was kind of taken aback by their lack of consideration. At some point during a break I managed to grab a package of Chex Mix and ate a few bites between interviews. I had two 1-hour interviews with a different person at each, two 5-6 person group interviews at an hour each, and finally a 1/2 hour with a big poobah. At no point did anyone offer me water or tell me where the restroom was or ask me if I needed anything. I had to find someone to ask for both and basically make my own mini-breaks, else I would have been just sitting like a lump, by myself. How can a bunch of events people not know better? I was embarrassed, though, cuz my tummy kept bitching and I have no idea if anyone heard it. So finally tired, stressed out and starving, I got back in the car to realize that (a) it was fucking raining again but not as bad and (b) I was almost out of gas because I couldn't stop before in the rain to get gas and the trip took more than an hour longer than it should've and I didn't notice how much more gas I used. Great. So coming home I hit rush hour in SA and in Austin, and got to drive home in the rain, in the dark which is very bad because I don't do well in either alone so together was a nightmare. I made myself hold off on dinner because I was meeting a friend for dinner. Was saving myself for fish and chips at BJ's which is ALL I could think about. I was going to have me fish 'n chips and a big fucking glass of wine or beer. We touch base and I finally make it there after that nasty drive. There is a line out the frakking door! They NEVER have a long wait. Never. Well, last night they did. I almost started crying. Called her to tell her I couldn't wait it out because I literally felt like I was going to throw up or pass out. It had been 13 hours since I had anything substantial. [And, yeah, at some point I did think how awful that was when so many people don't get to eat for days sometimes and how is that possible when I felt so miserable missing one meal?] We ended up at an Indian restaurant I hadn't seen before that wasn't a sit down with waitresses, more like Pei Wei for Indian food. At that point I didn't care. So we went there and I snarfed down every bit of my Chicken Tikki Masala and naan. It was sooooooooooo good. Actually it might have been crap but I was too hungry to notice -- and I don't think it was, I think it was really that good. I felt immediately better.

By the time I got home it was after 9 p.m. and I was stressed out and exhausted. But the day was over and I don't want to talk about it again. :-p

Got a lotta writing to do today and shouldn't be spending so much time here but needed to vent it and get over it.

A while back one of my shows made exceptional use of this song which I might never have thought of again if they hadn't used it. I forgot how much I loved it. Been listening to it in the car.

Porcelain - Moby

A few months ago, in the middle of the hot Texas summer I was really missing Vancouver, a gorgeous place that I've only visited once, but one of those places I could see myself living in if I won the lottery.


Now for some reason, I'm really missing Seattle and Bainbridge Island where a good friend lived -- until she moved to frakking Alaska last June. Unless I had some sort of business in Seattle, it's not likely I'll be going back there, but maybe one day. Maybe one day if I find me a man and we go traveling. There's a fantastic restaurant in the Public Market called Steelhead Diner. Went there both trips up there and each time we got an awesome table that gave a wonderful view of the Market and Puget Sound beyond. The little island my friend lived on for a while was very picturesque. To live there and work in Seattle as she did would be a pain but as a visitor it was so cool to take the ferry back and forth from the city to this quaint place. Despite the rain, the trip to Forks and La Push was very cool, too. With New Moon coming out, it'll be interesting to see if I recognize anything, but I don't think they really filmed there. (I think they filmed in British Columbia.)

I think I'm getting sick. I really need to not be sick this week. Figures.

...if not a lot weird. It's one of those mornings when I woke up before 530am with no clue why. Couldn't go back to sleep and so finally came downstairs and had breakfast and coffee around 630pm. My tummy has been feeling off for a couple of weeks but finally went to pieces yesterday so I really am not sure if it's allergy-related or if I'm getting actually sick with a bug. But then there's been that to deal with too.

Been having the strangest dreams. The first one a week or so ago, for the first time that I can ever remember, I was male in my dream. I couldn't see myself, I don't know why I know that I was, but definitely I was a guy. And I was Angelina Jolie's personal assistant and was nervous cuz I had all this stuff to do for her. Never saw her in the dream either but I knew I was male and that I worked for her. Nothing else. I still can't make heads nor tails out of that one but whatever.

Last night, I had a doozy. A few years ago, at work (remember when I had a job), there was a guy who worked for the caterer that was nice enough and pretty cute, but he had a LOT of problems. He'd been arrested for DUI, for soliciting a prostitute, and who knows what else. He also knocked up this whack job photographer woman and married her cuz he knocked her up, then that went south and she spent the next few years (that I still knew him) actively punishing him for being a man. Seriously, he wasn't the pick of the litter but she was simply hateful. Well, guess who he developed a crush on? Yep. I sure do attract the most stellar boys, don't I? Anyway, I thought my crap was complicated but this guy took the cake in that department. I knew he liked me but I made a big point of keeping it only work-related while he moped around and made moony eyes and told everyone we both knew how he was pining. At some point, the photographer-ex made an appointment with me about an event that I was in charge of at my building. During our meeting she accused me of sleeping with him because he let her think that. I laughed and laughed right in her face because it was that ridiculous. I think she believed me but now she was mad at me for laughing at her. One day at work I received some pictures that she took of me at a different event. I had no idea she was there or that she was taking pictures of me but it was her little way of letting me know what the fuck ever she wanted to tell me. I was annoyed and amused. Well, it was only a few months later that I quit (nothing at all to do with any of that) and I didn't keep in touch with any of them. Heard through the grapevine a long time ago that, like me, he's been job hopping the last few years and she's still trying to castrate him. So for some reason last night I had a big ol' sex dream about this guy that I haven't thought about for three years and who I wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole (pardon the expression). I woke up completely freaked out. What the frak is my psyche trying to tell me now? That I'm as big a loser as I thought this guy was? That I haven't been with anyone in a year? Worse, it was a very realistic, lubricated kind of dream and I'm feeling even pukier than my tummy was already making me feel. Bleh!!

So didn't get any writing done yesterday, though I had two separate article-related phone interviews. I was quite busy yesterday, just am still in writer's...denial? I dunno. Now today I must go work 8 hours on the retail floor on 5 hours of sleep and am already feeling rather ill so that is in turn making me feel more nervous. See how my mental merry-go-round goes? Gonna try and write for an hour this morning between bathroom bouts and I have most of the day tomorrow.

The bit of good news (cautiously speaking) is that I was called yesterday for an interview in San Antonio on Friday. It's a job I applied for quite a while back but it's for a quasi-government institution so likely they're just slow like that. It's good to have a possibility, my first in a long while. My qualifications are a good match. We'll see.

I just came across a bunch of his pictures. Him, his family, him and me together. It was a little jarring because I knew that album had a lot of his nephew's and nieces' pics in it -- after all, I put them there. But I didn't remember so many of him. Since I didn't know what else to do with them, I threw them all away. I should have a long time ago, but I felt like it would be mean to throw his pictures away. Today I decided that I was never going to try to find him to send them, and I had no intention of sending them unmarked to his mother, so why not just toss them? I certainly don't want them. So now they're gone.

It didn't hurt to see them as much as it annoyed me. So many years later and I haven't moved on. Don't get me wrong, it's not about him. I hardly go there anymore. When I question my decision, it's only because I'm in such a hard place now and maybe it wouldn't be so hard if I were still married. But that's a lie. He didn't pull his weight when we were married and he never was going to pull his weight. I mean that I haven't moved on with someone else -- and I do want to...someday. I have only had a couple of flings; true, one lasted for a few years off and on, but I haven't had a real relationship since my marriage ended. It's like I put myself in a box, out of harm's way, and didn't come out again. In the meantime, the awful turn my circumstances have taken doesn't make me feel any better about myself. Several weeks ago I found the old journal and the first thing I read was about how much I missed him while he was on his business trip. Turned out he was up to a lot of no good on those trips and THAT was the first thing I thought of. The next thing I read was about my uncle dying and how I never went to see him because I'm so selfish. The counselor and I decided I should not read it anymore for a while. Don't throw it away but check back in a couple of years to see if it still affected me so much. God, I hope I'm not still 'here'.