Today I found out the hot guy at work was born in 1986…do you know how incredibly wrong and messed up it is that he is that good looking and was basically born whilst I was rocking fluorescent colors and those polyester parachute track suits…it just ain’t right. 

In other news, I have me an admirer.  While this is causing my eyebrows to rise just thinking about it—I have spent some seriously contemplative time on this.  Current Admirer is Work Water Guy (WWG).  WWG is a very nice guy who seems to think I am dreamy.  Needless to say, this is confusing the crap out of me.  The more you try to convince someone that you are not actually as nice as you appear the more they don’t believe you.  The more you try to convince someone who has a crush on you that you are kind of freaky, a bit broken, incredibly needy, and while strong and great in an emergency—I tend to stress a lot during calm and steady times – the less they believe you and the greater they think you are.  Yes, this sounds like a great strategy IF I were in any way capable of strategery in regard to ‘gettin’ a maaan’.   I have successfully scared off a number of perfectly available and hot guys by asking them if we could pretty please have sex.  The blunt approach is no-one’s friend and if you have the ability to play coy I recommend highly you do so (I tried it once for about an hour and it was way harder than I thought).  Anywhoodle, I have not scared off WWG (yet) and was actually scared off myself (because hello! People don’t chase me; *I* chase them! Duh.) until I saw his calves the other day.  Holy shizballs…he has some very nice legs.  So now we shall continue the dance of texting and chatting.  Except later, guess what I heard?  Hmmm? Yeah.  I heard he is a bum looking for a woman to take care of him.  Well, holy crap.  I’m good.  Had that; looking for something different.

And thus I remain happily single.  🙂

I was feeling smart almost as if I ‘knew stuff’.  I just attempted 2 different online sample tests for the Certified Industrial Hygiene exam and now all I have is a lot of acid trying to eat its way through my esophagus. Well, poop.  Now I feel special in that not so special way as well as having a headache.  I may be too smart(ass) for my own life but too slow for my chosen career path.  ~sad face~

In other news I leave on Friday for Jamaica.  Yeah, that’s right bitches–I’m going on a vacation!!  My first real adult vacation where I am going to a completely DIFFERENT tropical island than the one I live on.   The timing of this vacation could be said to be a wee bit….well, bad.  You know, what with the refinery closing and this being a very dangerous time with the draining of the units and my people working out in them.  But NO.  dang it.  NO.  They are not offering to pay my vacation off to get me to stay and this vacation was paid for before I even began working at this company.  If I go I will be losing quite a bit of $; so…no.  I am going.  My cell phone has been “upgraded” to international by said company so I can be bothered by calls every single day…that will be restful. ~grump~ 

The mood of this place is weird.  If I had $5 for every time someone asked me my plans I would probably have enough money for a second trip to Jamaica.  Over 90% of the people I have spoken with are planning to move back to the contiguous states.  I don’t know why, but the thought of moving back to the states makes my brain go clunk.  I’m not discounting anything, but whoooo-boy do I hate moving.

Alright, I am off to find more tums before an alien bursts out of my chest. 

I know I’m so tired because I’m sitting on the toilet reading work emails even though I finished peeing a good 10 minutes ago. The dogs keep running in to check on me and after one particularly annoying email I put my face in Freckles’ ruff and cried, “freckles, why are they so douchey?!? Did you know they are so douchey?” this obviously registered to freckles as “go get my bone and chew”.
So now I have to decide whether to take the boots off so I can take the coveralls off and then underclothes and then shower. But this leads to the dilemma of my bag is in the car.
If I take my boots off and then have to go out to the car I either go barefoot and pray for no centipedes….or I put the coveralls all the way back on, leaving boots in place and then get stuff from car.
This dilemma has to be solved before my feet go numb.
~sighs….reaches for boots~

I read blogs.  I find them vastly more interesting that a lot of fiction out there and often a lot more uplifting than the news.   Don’t get me wrong, I read the news, however all of my news is read off of  www.fark.com – they don’t write the news; they mock it.  🙂

Anyway, yes.  I’m depressed and it has been a fight to drag myself out of the deep dark hole of doom.  I don’ t know how to explain how exhausting, how annoying I find myself, or even how I use up all of my energy just getting through my work week.  There is a blogger who explains it so much better than I can (and she uses pictures; everyone loves pictures) : http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html

I have not reached the ‘nothing can do anything to me’ freedom of the above referenced blog posting, but I’m getting there.  My depression phases in a pretty predictable ways: 1. doing okay.  2.  bad things happen and I respond in plucky, self-reliant, admirable ways.  3.  more bad things happen–I keep going pluckily.  4. Something completely inane happens (THERE IS NO MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP ICE CREAM ON THIS ENTIRE ISLAND!!!!) and I LOSE MY EVER  LOVING MIND (which begins listing every single bad thing that has happened throughout my life including that time some mean kids made fun of my red-polka-dotted shoes in elementary school and…and…and…) and I sob like an idiot or WORSE go completely numb for a few days and then sob like an idiot while my dogs circle me wondering if food lady has completely run out of food and that is why she is so sad and here we can share this squeaky toy? please stop crying food lady.  5. and then I’m better? no.  not even close.  it’s a slow climb from the depths of hell and because I get so depressed my immune system says “good luck, fool” and leaves for a while which means I get a cold or something else stupid and then I keep climbing.  Sometimes I slip, but I do get back up to ‘normal’ eventually but it seems to take me twice as long to get out of it than it does to fall into the ‘hole’.   I literally use all of my energy faking normal getting through my workday.  By the time I’m home I am lucky to make it to the bedroom to sleep.  When people ask what I’m doing and I jauntily reply – sleep.  That is not an exaggeration.   Now, I should make it clear that I work a minimum of 10-12 hours per day and there is nothing fun going on in my life.  But I am never sure if the lack of fun is due to the depression, or if the depression is made worse from the lack of fun.  It’s a nasty spiral, isn’t it?

If nothing else, I am in the company of amazing people because some of my best friends and some of my favorite blog reads seems to dealing with many of the same issues.  Depression and other mental illnesses are often looked at as a weakness.  That no-one suffering has the strength of will to ‘snap out of it’ or just ‘be happy’.  Please know that no-one *wants* to feel this low or alone.  Depression is a sneaky jerk who tells you the world would be better without you.  That no-one really wants you around.  Do your best to ignore the sneaky bastard.  He lies.

Every one of the ladies who writes below is dealing with depression…different levels, different coping mechanisms.  They also write hoolarious other stuff which keeps me vastly entertained. 🙂  

I will be okay.  If you are dealing with depression or the like, you will be okay too.  It just takes time. 

**hugs**

-H.

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html

http://thebloggess.com/2011/10/im-out-of-the-hole/

http://journalnotkept.blogspot.com/search/label/1990s

Ok,  lots be happening and I have absolutely NO time to explain it all; so this may end up being the most convoluted blog post in the history of the ever.  I’m going to list…whenever I can’t make items flow, I list.  Here we go:
1.  I love prune juice.  But whoa, too much is too much. I always get the “poor non pooping girl” look when I buy it, which is embarrassing enough.  But if you accidentally drink 1 swallow too much of the tart tasty goodness, well…you learn quickly why people use it to poop.
2.  I hate the word idiopathic.  Just do people the favor and don’t try to make it sound smart that “shrugs, we don’t know”…I have a dog with we don’t know why epilepsy and I keep getting an infection with a big old we don’t know why as well. 
3.  I hate that I put a passcode on my phone, but I never remember to change it and just have a minor spurt of rage every time I try to use my phone. 
4.  I met with someone who for lack of a better term is a mentor.  She works here, is teeny but holds her own on the fire department.  And she is mildly bad-ass in meetings.   I want to be he when I grow up (not teeny, but badass). She helped me out while making the “where to work” decision and she wanted an update on how things were going.  As we ate lunch and I told the story of my new job her jaw got wider and wider.  Bright side: it felt good to talk to someone.  Downside: when the mentor indicates in a well-bred polite manner that you’re fuct, you’re pretty well fuct. 

5. I was completely unaware until 06:27 on November 10, 2011 that it is possible to sneeze vomit. And please let me tell you that I am not a fan.  I felt vomit a’comin, ran to toilet, sneezed 3 times and then puked.  All I can say to that is what. the. hell. Body?  I called in sick.  I just can’t handle a sneeze-vomit day. I took an allergy pill and now am in bed trying not to move because I feel carsick. 
I have no more words about that except it has been a while since I’ve been sick un-related to the host of other diseases and problems.  I don’t feel good and would like to whine now. 
Feel poopy. 
Wah.