Today, I have no title for this blog beside fuck this shit which seemed a tad vulgar for face book posting and well, I am cleaning my titles up, being more classy these days. I am not getting any younger and I don't want to use up all my vulgarity now. Who knows how much vulgarity I will need when I get older?! I don't want to be one of those sweet old ladies, hell no, I want to be the riot of the bunch, the pinch the ass of the cute Dr. bunch. I want to laugh wickedly and live life to the fullest when I get older. You know, funny that I say that...laugh wickedly and live life to the fullest when I get older, yeah that, funny, because why don't I do those things now? Where did I go. Why don't I live my life to the fullest, now. When it matters. Life matters now, not tomorrow, not yesterday but now. And dammit, I lost the ability to live it.
What happened? Well, shit. How long do you have? What happened? Well, life happened to me. I am one of the unfortunate many who can't quite shake off the woes of life. The flashes of a crappy childhood where I never fit in, almost, sometimes but just not really, an incomplete puzzle piece that wasn't cut close enough to fit perfectly but almost fits if squeezed enough. Then the horrible, awkward affair, the shitty-teenage years. Walking to the beat of a different drummer is not an easy thing, especially when all you do is want to fit in. Damn. What about fitting in means so fucking much to me? Really does it matter if I fit in? If I wear the "right shoes" or "drive the right car" and lord knows I would never date the "right" guy because they never looked twice at the fat girl. I never had enough respect for myself during my teenage years, those stupid, stupid, years. If I could pass on anything to any woman young, old, in the middle, hell just anyone for that matter is RESPECT yourself because if you don't, no one will. Corny, girl, I know but true. You can't just go around giving out your good stuff because well, it becomes not good stuff, it becomes painful and sad and good stuff should never be painful and sad. It's not called painful-sad stuff, it's called good stuff and if you treat it as such it will one day become great stuff. Awesome stuff even. Save that stuff, save it for someone who gives a shit. Save it because you deserve it and you are worth it!
Now not all the good stuff in life is the a romp in the bedroom (or car, truck, van or where ever you may romp) sometimes the good stuff is the you part. The part of you that is kind, good, caring, loving, strong and stronger still. Sometimes it is the part of you that can't keep a secret (dammit) and is a tad bit jealous because these are the things that make you up and you are good. We all are good. OK, so that was some sappy shit right there but I think you are all with me.
Tonight, well, tonight has been a trying night. It is my last night before my last night at work and I have had time to dwell on the many mistakes I have made at work. I have had time to think about the past and how I let things get too painful and overwhelmed and I walk away and I think, "is this what I am doing now? Walking away?" Crazy thoughts really because it is time. I can't explain it more than that. I have to do this. I know that the next job is going to come with it own set of problems and mostly those problems will be my lack of control around my lip area. My insecurities. My imperfections. And the fact that in general, work sucks balls. Sorry, work, but you know you suck. It is true, that is why work is a four letter word. All the bad words are four lettered, common knowledge, man. But as a few friends of mine have told me recently I guess I just need to get over myself. Whatever that means.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
The wind of changes...or some stupid crap like that...
Tonight is the perfect night to write about change, as the wind is blowing and the moon is glowing and the words are flowing....hahahaha I kill me sometimes but seriously, change it is a-coming and I am freaking-the-hell-out.
What kind of change? Well, a life-changing change, of course. At my age, you don't blog about your hair color as being a change, unless it turns ummm, green and it was on accident. I am changing jobs. There I said it, it is written down. No turning back now. I am leaving the ER and going to the VA. Why? Well, that my friends is a story indeed, however, a story for all of the world to see, when I have not been secretive about who I am or where I work? Eh, I will save that drama for my book I will one day write. And hopefully, someone decent will edit it because my English is for shit man. And maybe you all will buy a copy or three.
So, here I sit, sighing and sniffling. No, for once I am not crying, I am sniffling because I again, have the Karma cough that tried to kill me in August, about the same time my therapist decided I was not good enough to waste time on, even though I have insurance and I am pretty damned funny. You know what to hell with her. What the hell does she know? That clutter makes you feel burdened? That it is not smart nor healthy to ignore your mail and not pay your bills. Well, hell, really Einstein, I would have never figured that out on my own, thanks for all your wonderful insight. Bitter? Bitter me? Never, I forgive easily, I just never forget.
However, in all seriousness, changing jobs has been painful, not only for me but those around me as I am an asshole and not afraid to share my misery. I am awesome like that. As dramatic as it sounds, taking this job is a huge leap of faith. Of it will all work out and things will be OK. And you all know, that I really don't believe any of that crap. What's the deal with this job? Well, it is part-time, yeah, 40 hours every 2 weeks and the insurance because of the part-time, well, it is 280ish bi-weekly. Yeah, I was shitting puppies when I read that, also. But with the house of sickness Tony and I live in, living without insurance is not smart or really doable. I have to have insurance. Have too. And it sucks. And I am stressed and worried and wondering WTF am I doing taking a job I can't afford to live on?! Protecting my sanity I hope. Refreshing my love of nursing. Taking a break. Doing the right thing for me. Shit I dunno, really, what the hell I am doing beside getting out. All I feel is this extreme need to get the fuck outta dodge right now. Run, Angie, Run. And it has to stop. I need it too stop. I need a break. So, I keep telling myself, yeah things will work out. Things will be OK. Two small dogs=a few days of meals.....
What kind of change? Well, a life-changing change, of course. At my age, you don't blog about your hair color as being a change, unless it turns ummm, green and it was on accident. I am changing jobs. There I said it, it is written down. No turning back now. I am leaving the ER and going to the VA. Why? Well, that my friends is a story indeed, however, a story for all of the world to see, when I have not been secretive about who I am or where I work? Eh, I will save that drama for my book I will one day write. And hopefully, someone decent will edit it because my English is for shit man. And maybe you all will buy a copy or three.
So, here I sit, sighing and sniffling. No, for once I am not crying, I am sniffling because I again, have the Karma cough that tried to kill me in August, about the same time my therapist decided I was not good enough to waste time on, even though I have insurance and I am pretty damned funny. You know what to hell with her. What the hell does she know? That clutter makes you feel burdened? That it is not smart nor healthy to ignore your mail and not pay your bills. Well, hell, really Einstein, I would have never figured that out on my own, thanks for all your wonderful insight. Bitter? Bitter me? Never, I forgive easily, I just never forget.
However, in all seriousness, changing jobs has been painful, not only for me but those around me as I am an asshole and not afraid to share my misery. I am awesome like that. As dramatic as it sounds, taking this job is a huge leap of faith. Of it will all work out and things will be OK. And you all know, that I really don't believe any of that crap. What's the deal with this job? Well, it is part-time, yeah, 40 hours every 2 weeks and the insurance because of the part-time, well, it is 280ish bi-weekly. Yeah, I was shitting puppies when I read that, also. But with the house of sickness Tony and I live in, living without insurance is not smart or really doable. I have to have insurance. Have too. And it sucks. And I am stressed and worried and wondering WTF am I doing taking a job I can't afford to live on?! Protecting my sanity I hope. Refreshing my love of nursing. Taking a break. Doing the right thing for me. Shit I dunno, really, what the hell I am doing beside getting out. All I feel is this extreme need to get the fuck outta dodge right now. Run, Angie, Run. And it has to stop. I need it too stop. I need a break. So, I keep telling myself, yeah things will work out. Things will be OK. Two small dogs=a few days of meals.....
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