What is the opposite of writer’s block? I think it might be writer’s diarrhea. I think I have it. Every day I think of something which is either funny or pertinent–and I write it down using a pen and then never transfer it to typewritten form.
….the fuck?
What is wrong with me?
In all seriousness–I blame my iPhone. I hate it. I really do. I miss keyboards–well, I think that is it–I miss keyboards.
So, if anything ever goes wrong with me please enjoy cleaning out my house with the fitty-eleven million scraps of paper with blog posts on them.
Cripes.
I must develop some form of schedule or something. 🙂

Good afternoon world, I have been watching a ridiculous amount of hulu on my tiny little phone.  I didn’t go to work on Friday due to some stomach issues I have no desire to go into–but that gave me tons of time to watch.  Then on Saturday I had to wait for my propane delivery–window of 07:00 to 17:00.  He didn’t show up until 15:30; needless to say I am about television-ed out.  

However, I now have opinions.  So–here we go.  My weirdo review of a metric crap-ton of television:

• once upon a time – gosh darn it, this is a pretty fun story.  You have to start from the beginning but then it becomes a fun dramatic fairy tale which sucked me in for all of the episodes and a new recording set on my dvr.  
• grim – darker than once upon a time, but still gripping. each episode tends to stand on it’s own which makes it easier to bop around.  
• prime suspect – and here are my thoughts on my favorite “strong female lead”.  While not my favorite of shows, this show truly represents what I feel a strong female is and should be in this messed up world.  In one episode evil gangster character is all threatening to her family and she breaks his arm.  This actress is portrayed as both flawed and feminine, working in a male-dominated profession (something I can relate to very well), with a boyfriend who comes with a kid and an ex-wife.  She is not innately motherly just because she is female (something else I can relate to); but she cares deep down.  This is a believable character supported by both great writing and acting.  Something I saw in an episode today which made me even more of a fan was her difficulty in supporting another female detective to join her department–unless that female detective was very good at her job.  This is something of a struggle for women working in a male-dominated field; knowing when to fight for someone’s inclusion into the group which took so very long to be considered a member.  If the person you choose to fight for is a failure, you lose credibility.  This character is portrayed as being very strong about this…much stronger than I have ever been.  I love to try to include everyone – something that has bitten me in the ass more than once and something I am becoming wiser about as I age.  

My heart is pounding.  I just received an email from my attorney regarding how long my ex has to respond before he can proceed with my divorce.  I have so much stress (so much) that I am not sure any longer whether I am losing my mind or if there is nothing left of it to lose.  Everything is so open ended and scary.  But now in 5 days: 3 hours: 22 minutes: 58 seconds I can move forward.  One thing can be finished. 

Then it’s time to work on the rest of my crap which needs doing.

Wish me luck. 

…and yes, I have a countdown timer on my phone.  The two coundowns I have are this one (obviously) and the one which is counting down until the refinery closes.  hmmmm, maybe these are not so much helping the stress levels, eh?  

well, make that weary.  I am getting plenty of sleep but I am just…wiped out. 

I think there has been too much.  Too much to do, too much to worry about; just too much of everything.

Trying to remain positive when everyone around me is getting more and more depressed, more and more stressed out…just, damn.  It is difficult. I received an email today which said this, “I’m just messing with you….  You are very positive and fun loving, it’s refreshing…” and then I thought, wow, I’m doing okay.  Then I heard someone come into my office and talk to people about how he wanted to go see a dog fight (??!!?) and I kicked him out of my office…like, violently yelled at him to get the hell out and that if he needed something from my administrator he could wait the hell outside for it.  And then I yelled at someone who was late to a meeting.  And then I realized I needed to breathe.  And stop yelling at people (well, I could give a shit about the dog fighting guy–I’m going to yell at him again). 

Two women apparently almost got into a fight outside the refinery.  Tempers are short as hell and the entire world appears to be losing their shit. 

This is not really a very insightful posting–but I shall keep you updated on how this closure is going down. 

Much love,

H.

I just figured it out. Why I had a full body rejection of “no no no no they can’t close the refinery why why why crap” when I found out I am going to be jobless in 50 more days.
I don’t want to move.
Again.
I feel the again part is key. I move. Or, to be correct; I have moved.
I was just texting a friend who moved to Canada yesterday. Moved. To. Canada. Who the crap moves to Canada? Well, 2 of my close people, that’s who.
Anyway, he had pretty much been on the island his whole life; same with the other guy. I told him to enjoy that “start over” feeling; it is freeing as hell.
Then I thought, oh yeah. I don’t want to start over again. It takes 2 years. Every time I move it takes me 2 years to make friends, become accepted for being the weird person I am at whatever job I am doing, and just to feel part of the world around me rather than an interested observer. Two. Damn. Years.
At 13, I moved to England.
At 15 I was finally happy.
At 17 I moved to Ohio.
At 18 I went off to college
At 20 I was happy again–secure.
At 24 I moved to southern Illinois.
At 26 I had started to settle and make friends.
At 27 I moved to Chicago.
At 30 I was secure in job and settled.
At 31 I moved to St. Croix.
At 34 I am settled, happy, comfortable and the damn refinery decides to close.

So, the last 20 years. Too much moving.
I’m pooped.
Now, if the world implodes I understand I will have to move. I will do it and be okay.
Just knowing I have at least 2 years after I get somewhere else is just freaking exhausting.
So I’m going to bed. 🙂
Goodnight y’all.
H.

So back when I was switching jobs and losing my vehicle I picked up a second job with über boss where I worked to get a truck. Truck was a utilitarian type vehicle which I ended up not needing so I lent it out to people who needed it.

The time came when über boss asked, “what’s the deal with that truck?” I shrugged and said, don’t know I lent it to so and so. Über boss banged his head on his desk a few times and told me to get it back and sell the damn thing.
Mmmkay. So, while I was in Jamaica truck was dropped off at my house where it sat for about 2 weeks.
I got a text on Friday from someone who knew someone who wanted to buy the truck. I said okie dokie.
They came by, drove it around, haggled a bit…gave me cash and off truck went to his new home.
I texted über boss and he told me not to spend all the money in one place. I replied, “don’t worry! I will make sure to get hookers AND blow.”.
Über boss replied, “that’s right.”
Which is why I love that man.

Bitch…Gun!  So, while coming up with the name for this blog I asked my friend what she thought of the name “Squished Together” via text message.  There was no immediate reply and I thought about it for 10 minutes and then bought the domain.  I liked it, it made sense since I was going to be squishing two blogs together, and it was available.  I was ever so pleased with my choice.

Approximately 2 hours later I was in Kmart listening to an audio book (in all seriousness, shopping has become much less annoying when I do it while listening to an audio book. I don’t have to listen to store muzak, I don’t have to listen to other people, I just zone out and purchase what I need and leave.  Before you think I am too much of an ass please note I turn it off before I check out) and a text message came through to my phone.  “It makes me think of your boobs.”  huh?! what does? wait a second….SON OF A BITCH GUN!! She is talking about my blog name…squished together, damn it!!!!  She’s right.  It does.  *face-palm* 

So here I am, putting it on the record…that was not my intention when I came up with “Squished Together”; but if it makes you laugh–enjoy!

…and what have we learned? ah yes, Heather should *not* take vacations.  Well, correction–Heather can take time off; just don’t freaking go anywhere. 

Enough of the third person crap; so–I went on vacation and it was ever so…well, fucking horrible is the only way to describe it.  I went to Jamaica and while the destination wasn’t horrific (although it had its downsides–I shall share those later) it was more “let’s watch Heather’s world fall apart while she’s gone” (holy crap–why the third person? It’s like I can’t stop).  So, as you may have read I learned that I will be jobless soon.  Obviously this is not a great time to take a vacation but I pre-paid for it and would lose all the money…looking back, I should have just let the money go. 

The first, and most horrific thing that happened is that my beloved Freckles (90 lb mutt) died.  He was the dog who slept in bed next to me every night and while not a good dog; he was a very loved dog.  He had epilepsy.  His first seizure was about 4 months ago and they progressed.  The two nights before I left for vacation he had seizures and kept trying to wander out of the yard.  The morning I was to get on the plane I found him in a ditch.  He was barely responsive; we got him in the car and the housesitter said he was going straight to the vet who was opening early just for Freckles.  Everyone told me to go…I stupidly listened and handed my housesitter .  When we landed in Miami the vet told me he was responsive and they were trying a new medicine.  I was so relieved.  I shouldn’t have been.  Once we were in Jamaica I was assured that there was hope…2 days later I was told (literally) that he was a vegetable.  I told them to put him down.  My heart was broken but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fully grieve until I got home. 

After landing in Jamaica and being rushed through the airport by my fellow travelers (please keep in mind I had not slept for 2 days) I lost $200 and my leather wallet. 

…..to be continued.