Domestic Geek

…Rabbit, Rabbit!

If only…

If only and what if and I wish and someday. It came to me this morning while at work that these are my mantras. They are what I hide behind, the excuses I use and why I'm not moving forward in my life. These statements rely on absolutely no effort on my part. As long as I say these things to myself everyday, I'm stuck.

One of my teachers at school used to say there is no such thing as try. You either do or you do not. Unfortunately, I just do not. I don't know what I'm afraid of or why I think I can't. It's not that I'm comfortable where I am. I'm in pain, I'm sad and depressed, I feel like a failure. Maybe I've got some kind of Cinderella sydrome where I believe that if I suffer enough, some handsome prince will come save me and all my dreams will come true.

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« All Done!

So, I just heard a weird popping sound coming from the kitchen. I get up to investigate and there's the pan of eggs on the stove I was boiling...that had totally run out of water...because I had forgotten I started them...over two hours ago! Dumb ass! I don't know if they're salvageable, I'll have to wait and see. I put them to soak in cold water. All I know is it totally smells like burnt pan in here. Ugh!

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Well, that was totally stupid. I'm trying to set up a recipe blog and I had Transmit (FTP program) open. Instead of opening a file to edit it, I accidentally copied it to my hard drive. I right click on it, select delete and hit enter to agree and then realize that I had clicked on the wrong file. Wouldn't have been disasterous if it had been any file other than my Mac's Library folder. You know that one...it contains your keychain, your cookies, your browser bookmarks, your saved emails, your iCal data, all your program preferences. Yeah, that one. I immediately hit the cancel button, but those things never seem to work. I forced Trasmit to quit, but it was too late...all the data was gone. I checked the trash and it was empty. I opened Transmit and it had nothing. Damn. I can recreate almost every thing I lost except the iCal stuff, some of my booksmarks and my emails. Damn it! That's one folder I never thought to back up. Guess I'll have to start doing that on at least a weekly basis, eh?

I wish Marcus was home. I could sure use a hug just about now.

Man, is the blogosphere dead lately or what?

I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday. It wasn't pretty. Poor Marcus.

I have these things every once in a while. I don't know why. It's probably some form of depression. It has to be. I knew one was coming, I just didn't know how soon and don't know how to stop it once it starts. My life just seems so hopeless and all I can do is cry. I cry so hard I make myself sick. Top it off with the storm front that came through and the horrible headache I got from the air pressure change and wind. Not a good combination.

It started at work when the moron manager showed up really early. He didn't need to get there more than 15 minutes early (if at all) for the big order they had that morning. He just has no life outside of work and showed up a couple of hours early. He probably wanted to watch the girls he has things for on the cameras, but couldn't since I was there. He was soaked in that awful cologne he wears that I'm allergic to and he set off an allergy attack.

Then I got stuck in traffic not once, but twice for construction. Construction that wasn't even announced on the radio like it is every other weekend. At one of the sites, losers were driving on the shoulder to cut because they're too freaking impatient to wait with the rest of us and causing worse jams at the front of the line. It was really making me fume. I get sick of following rules when rulebreakers suffer no consequences. Like these losers are any more important than I. It's a good thing I don't own a gun because yesterday I would've used it. Not on the people, mind you, but I definitely would've taken some cars out.

I stopped at a bagel place on the way home because Marcus gave me money to pick some up. I walked in and no sesame seed ones. I had to wait for some to come out of the oven. That wasn't a bad thing, but the clerk shorting me one was. Baker's dozen means 13 jerkwad, not 12.

The overwhelming despair hit as I was driving into the park where we live. I started shaking and crying and I wanted to flee but I had nowhere to go. My whole existance seemed so pointless right then. I felt like crawling into a hole and dying.

Thank goodness for Marcus. Normally, he tries to give advice and solve my problems, but yesterday he just consoled me and held me and let me cry. It was what I needed. By evening, I was feeling a whole lot better.