I hope I spelled inebriated right.

I’m upstairs, in my son’s room, using his computer, because my laptop was invaded by Windows-file-destroying Trojans about a month and a half ago. (Note to self: get a subscription to a porn magazine for hubby, so he won’t screw up my computer anymore.) And I’m using my middle son’s spit bottle as an ash tray. I’m not sure I’m going to survive that.

I had a really bad day. It’s absurd, really, what I’m upset about. I’ve probably written about it before.

My employer, a Fortune 500, international corporation, thinks it is necessary that all of my orders for office supplies be approved.  I placed an order for paper and staples over a week ago, and my order hasn’t been approved yet. This might be because we have a new director or Vice President or whatever the hell he is (revolving door), and he’s been at our location all week schmoozing and hasn’t had time to run through his emails.

I made a great impression on him when he was introduced to me. I’m absolutely sure of it. I had already spoken with a manager (not mine) about my irritation over not being able to get the shit I need to do my job efficiently. So this manager brought the new director to my desk and said, “This is the one I warned you about.” New director shook my hand and asked, “How are things going back here?” and I said, “Well, I’m almost out of staples, which means I won’t be able to put together any more work card packages.” HUH??? Did I just say that to a BigWig? I mean, really, WTF? But I had already had it UP TO HERE for a freaking YEAR. So he laughed and said, “I guess the next thing you’ll be wanting is paper!” And everyone laughed and joked about it except me.

Well, guess what. Mr. BigWig still hasn’t approved my order.  THE FUCKING ASSHOLE.

Someone on Facebook (a girl I used to babysit - GOD, I already feel old enough) said her sister is looking for another bartender. I might just take the job. Because what better place to feel as if you are on an elevated level of sanity than a bar?

P.S. How fucked up are you (and ineligible to be on the road) if you are driving a GMC pickup truck but think you are in a Chevy Trailblazer until you get out of it? Oops. But I’m back home safely, don’t you worry.

I just read the news that Johnny Depp will be playing vampire Barnabas Collins in the movie version of Dark Shadows. I haven’t been this excited since I learned he was doing a movie about John Dillinger.

You have no idea how much I loved Dark Shadows as a child. AND the character Barnabas Collins. I’m in heaven.

Finally, something else to live for! haha. Thank you, Johnny.

Because I operate so well without emotion sometimes, it becomes difficult to define what I’m feeling when i finally feel something. This has been the case every night this week, when I find myself feeling restless. And sorta lost. I’ve been trying more and more to acknowledge feelings and investigate them. The results of last night’s analysis was something like this:

Restlessness - I feel as if the summer is passing me by, and I have two extremes: either working very hard, or doing absolutely nothing. The working very hard only occurs at my job. By the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is work even more. Maybe I need a vacation, but it’s gonna be difficult to get away when my husband and I are responsible for taking care of my mother-in-law on a daily basis.

Longing - whenever I feel some kind of longing, especially for love or acknowledgement, I recognize it as not having done anything for myself. And by doing for myself, I mean creating. There is a drive in me to create beautiful things, and when that desire isn’t allowed to manifest itself, I feel empty. I still think it would be nice to have the love I always dreamed of, though.

Hopelessness - I don’t know what to do about this. I have no faith that things will ever be any better than they are now. I’m going to grow old with THIS having been my life. And I certainly don’t expect to ever have grandkids. In fact, I almost think it would be best if my sons didn’t bring children into the world the way it is now. But people have been thinking that for centuries, and thank goodness babies were born despite their pessimism.

I don’t know. Just thinking my thoughts out loud. I don’t think I’m depressed, because I never cry, and I really do care that my house is a disgusting mess and that I’ve been a lazy ass for weeks. In other words, don’t recommend anti-depressants because I won’t take them. Exercise I might consider.

It’s kind of amusing, the way I come to the computer to get away from doing something else, then end up not doing anything on the computer, too. Nothing constructive, anyway.

Here’s another self-portrait, which I added way too much texture to, and those fake birds. But somehow it suits my mood: dark, brooding, lazy. I bought the dress at Goodwill for a few dollars. It’s a size 4 petite, and my boobs are too large to fit in it. yesssss. I just bought it for picture-taking anyway.

Sorry, Simon. I know it’s overdone, but I was going for some kind of effect I can’t possibly get right. I don’t have Photoshop, for one thing. I have Photoshop Elements.

I bought an exotic water lilly for my pond yesterday. It will flower in purple, and I hope to get some Monet-ish shots eventually. Today after work I went to check on it, and it was surrounded by a slimey-looking mess of frog eggs and sperm. I guess. Or just fertilized eggs. I wonder if frog eggs are edible. I’ll bet they taste like chicken eggs.

For about 24 hours last week, I went a bit mad. It was humbling to realize just how close I am to losing it. I won’t go into detail about all the events surrounding my plunge into madness, but they were equal to about 12 tons of straw on a camel’s back.

I can’t seem to make myself work. Here or at home. I’ve been popping vitamins and St. John’s Wort, trying to create some kind of chemical change in my brain. It’s not working. All I want to do is play outside. Or lie around with a book in my hand or a movie in the DVD player. But what if it’s not a chemical imbalance at all, and being lazy is just the way I am? What then?

I want to thank everyone for the comments on my previous post, whether serious or comedic. Each one of you helped tremendously, and I’m grateful for your supportive words. Sorry I can’t reply individually, but I’m just that freaking lazy.

It’s a bunch of bullshit, that’s what it is. Is it love when a man thinks a woman is his possession, that he is in charge of her life like some kind of weird father figure? Somehow, I had this demented idea that when a man loved a woman, he wanted to see her blossom. To see her become successful and even more beautiful. But apparently I was wrong. Because, oh my god, what if she blossoms and LEAVES?

I’ve always cherished the idea of freedom, but I was wrong about the existence of that, too. There is no freedom. Every one of us is under the control of someone else, whether we want to admit it or not.

Yesterday I sat in my truck watching my husband walk away after he had been a complete asshole. I said, out loud, “You’re a fucking asshole, and I want you to die.” Is that love? Doubt it.

If I ever make it out of this marriage, I will never answer to another man again.

In fact, I wrote a story about him about three years ago. Those words may have been lost for eternity in the black hole that used to be Jayesse.

Today at noon I rang my boss, who was off sick. I asked if I could have half a day off today in exchange for working half a day Friday, since it will be a paid holiday. He said “or you could just leave and forget about it.”

I didn’t tell him I was going to see Johnny Depp.

But I did see Johnny Depp, and I saw John Dillinger, in the film Public Enemies. Because of my lifelong fascination, I’ve written about John Dillinger before. I live within miles of his birthplace and banks he robbed. After high school, I worked at a small town bank that was robbed in the 30’s, but no one was certain it was him. The robbery happened long before the internet littered minds with the photos of gangsters and celebrities, so Midwesterners were not sure exactly what he looked like. But it makes me happy to think his spirit haunted the space outside my teller window.

When I was five or so, my dad announced that we were going to Florida to visit John Dillinger’s cousin, a friend of my father. My fear was that we would never make it back alive, but of course we did. John’s cousin was just another Floridian import, who lived in a tract house on the banks of a canal, and who, as far as I know, had never broken the law and only slightly disapproved of his famous relative.

So when I watched the film today, it was with an already deep love for a bad man with redeeming qualities - a Hoosier farm boy with whom I have a great deal in common. An appreciation for baseball. A dislike of Morgan County, Indiana. A desire to not be poor, and to go places.

I never cried for John Dillinger until today.

Self-portrait #1

I don’t seem to have the knack for photoshopping. This may relate in some way to my honest personality; I don’t believe in putting on airs, jewelry, or accessories, so it makes sense that it would bother me to turn a photo into a lie.

Having dispensed with our houseguests, we have plunged straight into another Hell: my mother-in-law. Her mind is rapidly deteriorating, to the point where she is becoming delusional and paranoid. Her most recent scenario is that she has been receiving phone calls from someone who wants to confront her about molesting my children when they were young - an event which I am positive never happened. At first we thought the phone calls might have been real, but now we’re not so sure. In the past she has imagined people visiting her who haven’t, and has forgotten about people who actually have. She thinks my middle son is angry with her, and is going to beat her up. She believes I’m mad at her, and telling everyone she molested my kids. She thinks that “they” took my oldest son away to get back at her (the one who is in Iraq). Her conspiracy theories put mine to shame.

Meanwhile, the stress of trying to care for her virtually by himself is making my husband a little crazy, and a lot more needy. He has three brothers and one sister; two brothers are essentially estranged from the family. The other brother is oblivious to the difficulties we face with his mother every day. His sister moved to Texas about 6 months ago.

And I’m having a battle with sanity myself…to the point of wondering if my mother-in-law’s delusions are somehow based in fact. Naturally I would wonder if anything she’s dreaming up ever happened, especially since my sister-in-law confessed yesterday that my mother-in-law’s half brother molested my MIL when she was young. It isn’t unheard of for victims to become perpetrators themselves, so there will always be that doubt. I’ve carefully watched my sons’ faces when I told them about the situation. I got a “whatever,” and a “that’s weird” from the two sons who are at home, and an “ok weird” from my soldier son on IM this morning.

I keep pushing the stress away. I tried to escape last night by taking photographs of myself, then playing with them in Photoshop…which was interrupted by my husband’s need to have sex with me.

Need, need, need. I go crazy when people need me. It’s a damn good thing I’ve got broad shoulders.

The houseguests I wrote about in a previous post are gone. The situation was completely resolved on Friday, after, um…what was his fictitious name? Casey. After Casey decided to go do some work for his dad after telling my husband that he couldn’t help him and was going to look for a job instead. Hubby showed up at the dad’s house later to find Casey working, and announced to everyone there that Casey wasn’t his responsibility and that the two of them needed to be out of our house before the weekend was over. When we came back from getting something to eat Friday evening, their belongings were gone. I couldn’t believe the sense of relief.

I’ve decided to play around with portraiture, which has always been my favorite art form. While I was growing up, my mother painted portraits, so it’s no wonder I have a thing for making them myself. I’d love to do portraits in oil someday when I have more time on my hands, along with an actual talent for it. Until then, I’ll use a camera.

I was looking online for creative self-portraits, and found these amazing examples.

I love the look of photographs which have had texture added to them in Photoshop, so I’m going to try that, too. And during lunch, I went to a second-hand shop and bought three cute summer dresses for $13. One of them was too big, but I loved the style and the fabric so much that I’m going to force myself to dust off my sewing machine and take the seams up. Or I could just pin them. Isn’t that what the clothing designers do?

Anyway, I’m not planning to start posting self-portraits all the time, just in case you were worried. But throwing an occasional one up here seems like a good way to push the boundaries of my comfort zone.

Billy Mays got on my nerves occasionally, but I’d kinda secretly started liking the guy.

Who’s next? Chuck Norris?