You can tell me because I’m going to tell you how I’m doing. So grab a comfy chair and some cheese, I’m going to supply the whine!
By nature, I’m not a happy-go-lucky person. I worry. A lot. About EVERYTHING (the ozone layer, penguins, the economy - Oh! Sweet Jesus, the fucking economy!, Obama or McCain? Will the Dolphins ever win a fucking game? Is this really organic? Gods! I’m fat!), gas prices . I tend to think and over think. Spontaneity isn’t something that I have in me. I like a plan. For many years prior to Mulders “unwise career decision”, I was unhappy. Very, very unhappy. (Clinically depressed, actually.) I felt trapped, hopeless, despondent, and miserable but way down deep, in the depths of me, “something” was trying to be born. Since the “unwise career decision” has come and gone, although with lingering effects, that “something” has birthed itself and is continuing to grow within me. (No, I haven’t gone all “Alien” on you!) So, now here I am with two separate, totally opposite “selves.” I’ve named them ~ Martha (for Stewart), the old “me.” Martha is the perfectionist, the good wife and mother, Betty Crocker, Suzy Homemaker, Florence Nightingale, Eleanor Roosevelt … you get the idea. Lizzie (for Borden) is the “new” me, she’s one fucking, crazy, bitch. Lizzie is the younger of the two. She’s devil-may-care, going to hell in a hand basket; Fuck the Establishment, stick-it-to-the-man, Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll, PAAAAAARRRR-TAY! Type of woman. You can see where having these two constantly wrestling for dominance is disconcerting at times. Before you call an army of Psychiatrists or break out the butterfly net, neither Martha nor Lizzie are actual separate people that pop out at different times to deal with my life. They are me, I am them. We are just one (psycho?) person.
Since I’ve been living with Martha and Lizzie for awhile now, I’ve come up with several “plans” for my life. One year ago, I had rented an apartment, was leaving Mulder and selling sex toys (Slumber Parties). Lizzie was extremely dominant at that time. I stopped worrying about every fucking thing, couldn’t have cared less about foreclosure, bankruptcy, vehicle repossession or much else. I was off to be single, have fun, kick some ass, and enjoy myself. Mulder’s epiphany changed that plan. He talked to me for the first time in 34 years and we decided to give the relationship a go. No, I wouldn’t re-marry him and Yes, I was going to keep dating. So far, we’ve made some progress in our relationship but basically, in my opinion, it’s two steps forward, one step backwards. We seem to be at a lull in progress right now. Being an optimistic pessimist, I’m sure things will proceed once I can get a balance between Martha, Lizzie and the NEW plan I’m on.
A few months after Mulder and I decided to live together, I felt the need to CHANGE my job. Even though I’ve worked, full-time, since I was 18 years old, I do NOT consider what I do and/or have done a career. I have “jobs.” In all those working years, 36 to be exact, I’ve had exactly 24 months “off.” Those months were in 1977, 1985 and 1999, for the birth of two children and relocation. Is it any wonder that I’m depressed and feel trapped like a rat? What I have done is started working part-time in my current job and am going to school to become and aesthetician. I’m going to break out of the office and make a living by rubbing people! How fucking awesome is that! I’ll be out and about, not stuck behind a desk listening to people scream about their doctor’s bill. I won’t even really have to talk to the clients because it’s supposed to be quiet while I soothe them and make them look beautiful! I’m very excited about this new, CAREER! Whoopee! I figure it’ll work well for all of me (us). When you give someone a facial, you transfer energy to them. I also get to wax. Legs, eyebrows, pubes. I’ve got nitebyrd, Martha and Lizzie energy. Those are going to be some facials and waxings, I think.
Now, here’s the problem. (Wait! You’re saying to yourself, she’s been whining and bitching for a long time here. Dear readers, what you’ve just read is the aperitif – here comes the Grappa. Get a big glass.) If you’d like, I’ll wait while y’all go pee and grab some more cheese.
Back? Ready? The problem is that I can’t get me (us) motivated and into a routine to get anything done in an orderly or at least, semi-orderly fashion! You know that old saying: You can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Well, you can, it’s just extremely difficult! I feel like a newly restored 1964 ½ Mustang. My exterior is sparkly and the engine is racing. I’m ready to go but have no wheels. Zip, nada, zilch – the only thing that I need to be tearing down the highway.
I go to school three nights a week, Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. I work two full days a week, Wednesday and Thursday. I’m off, Monday until 4:00, Tuesday’s and Friday’s, plus weekends. I cannot, simply cannot get onto a schedule. I forget to take my medication, walk the dogs late, neglect household chores and generally procrastinate. I found this little doll in Michael’s. I cannot believe that they actually used me without my permission. Click on it to see how I’m dealing with things lately.
This is where I’d like to apologize to all my favorite bloggers. I’ve been hit-and-miss lately. I don’t like to skim posts, I want to read with comprehension and understanding. If I feel like my thoughts are too scattered and that “Fun with Dick and Jane” is beyond me at that time, I won’t read or comment. Will y’all PLEASE forgive me for not being punctual in my blog reading and posting while this old dog is learning some new tricks?
In addition to the school and working, I’m still attempting to sell Slumber Parties and to make dolls. Lizzie, Martha and I NEED to be creative. It’s one of the few things we all agree on. I went to college to be an artist. Somewhere along the line, I lost the desire to be creative. During the time Lizzie was forming, the need to create was forming along with her. I hope to be able to invite you to my Etsy shop soon to see my creations. I believe you all know me well enough to figure out that my dolls won’t be Barbie or Betsy Wetsy type dolls. *Insert Evil Laugh*
I am trying - really, really trying, to get Martha to get her ass in gear and help with time-management. I have faith that we are going to work this all out and get on track with my life. While I know that what I’m dealing with may seem minor to some, it’s GINORMOUS to me. If you guys have some thoughts, suggestions and/or criticisms, please tell me. I’m figuring if you’ve read this far, you have to have some.
Do you still have eyes? They haven’t burnt out from reading all this, have they? The whining has come to an end. (Aren’t you overjoyed?) I’m going to go have a couple of Dead Guy Ales and tuck us all into bed.
By the way, if you happen to see my libido somewhere, send it back home.
Not to leave you without actually giving you something for your time – read this book!