Driving around unknown parts of the metroplex was fruitful this evening, and not cause I found places to apply, no. What happened was, as I was making a u-turn in this one shopping center I saw these words, bright and glowing and sparkly: NICKEL MANIA!
It appears to be sort of a Chuck-E-Cheese thing but you don't have to be a child. There were adults in there, playing. Lots of video games! And pizza! And this has been there all along. When I see things like this, that's when it really hits home that I'm not involved enough in society.
Also, on the way back, I noticed what appeared to be a very well-organized, color-coded and slow moving traffic jam over to the left, and I thought, what highway is that? (it was dark.) And then I looked again and realized, it was an airport. And then it hit me! That's the airport my mom used to drop us off at in the summertime to see movies, roller skate, AND ice skate. All 3 in one, and I'm for real. We used to go back and forth from rink to rink for hours on end. But I also happen to have a really bad memory of that place. It involves a horror movie.
One time my mom said to us, when she was dropping us off, "Have fun and whatever you do, don't sneak in the adult movies." So naturally we did. And of course, it was right in time for one of the worst visuals I have ever witnessed. All I saw was maybe 10 seconds of this flick but it was enough to scar me for life. I remember seeing a woman in the woods who was watching some kind of horrible ritual sacrifice thing. It disturbed me for months, but not as bad as the after-effect of being made to watch The Excorcist one evening with my family. I remember my parents fighting, my mom saying, No they're too young! And my dad saying, Don't baby them! It's good for them to see scary things! And so like any other good wholesome family evening, we all sat together on the couch under blankets and watched The Excorcist together. I was about 7 years old. To this day I cannot look at anything to do with scenes from that movie.
I called my grandmother today to wish her a happy birthday and also to get on to her for giving my mom's work number out to a complete stranger. Here is the official transcript of our conversation:
(gramma) Hello?
(me) Hi Gramma it's Amy, Happy Birthday!!!
(gramma) Oh hello Dear, did you hear the news? What I did for you? How I called that woman
in the newspaper and told her all about you?
(me) Yes Gramma I heard. But I really don't want my information given out to people
I don't know, ok? As in, phone numbers.
(gramma) Oh Honey I didn't give out YOUR number. I gave out your mother's.
(me) Yeah I know. I'm not mad but please in the future just run it past me first, ok? Or
next time maybe you can just call me and let me know you saw something of
interest, and if I want to make contact, I will?
(gramma) Now Honey, this is what I did. I told her how tired you are and so I asked her if she
knew of any work opportunities for you.
(silence, me processing this.)
(me) Work opportunities? What, seeing if she knew of places that made a point to hire
tired people?
(gramma) Now Honey I did the right thing. I know how tired you get. I.....
(me) GRAMMA! I'm all better and my slow-moving job hunt has nothing to do with
being tired! I'm just fine! So if you don't mind, in the future, please don't give out
my information!
(gramma) .....I didn't give out your information.
I gave out your mother's.
(more silence)
(me) Ok that's fine, HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
And then I was able to change the subject but I could tell she still didn't get why that offended me so much. She not only called this poor woman but she told her all of my details, my name, everything, and made it sound like I was in a horrible position in life, with my mother as my caretaker. I feel.... VIOLATED. Don't know how else to describe it.
My mom is still amazed that she did it. She said that my grandmother is the "Boundariless Wonder".
3/5/08
.
I dreamed last night that I was almost shot in the head, but at the last minute I was like, "no, uh, wait..." and then I turned and walked away from the man with the gun. He was shooting folks one by one. It was creepy.
I'm glad in my dreams I seem to realize that I have choices. I fare much better in my dream life than I do my real life. Being shot seems to be a recurring theme for me. I think that's how my subconscious mind portrays trauma. In fact I remember a friend calling me just a few days after my little brother's death, and all I could say was, "it feels like my entire family was lined up against a wall and shot, all of us, one by one..."
She really didn't know how to respond to that. Oh! Speaking of being machine-gunned against a wall! I don't think I've ever mentioned this in a blog before, but when I was 16 and working at an ice-cream store, I was scooping up this old man a nice cone, and as I handed it to him, I happened to notice that he looked JUST LIKE Al Capone, and I couldn't resist saying so. And the funny thing is, he just stood there, all wide-eyed, peered straight into my eyes and said, "I can't believe you said that." I thought I had offended him, but no, as it turns out, his dad had been one of the men who were shot in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. And the weird thing was, according to him, nobody had ever told him he looked like Al Capone before. As he took his cone and moved down the line I noticed he gave me a second glance over his shoulder.
That's not the first second glance I've ever gotten, the kind of glance that says, I'm not so sure about you...
What on earth was I talking about. Oh yes. My walking away from the understanding gunman. After I walked away from his methodical shooting spree, I walked and walked, and this smile just busted out upon my face for no reason, until I found myself walking right into the back door of my old childhood home. I had a grocery bag with me and it had two bottles of champagne, which I left in the kitchen, and walked to my old bedroom, where I started laughing and arranging things, it was a happy thing. That is until I found myself unpacking from a box that contained one of my dead uncle's belongings, and they weren't even his good belongings. It seemed to be the contents of his bathroom cabinet or something: nasty old toothbrushes and a disgusting fake beard? Do men even wear fake beards? Looking back on this uncle, there's no way his beard was fake. It was very much alive and it was all him. This is the uncle that worked as a bouncer at the strip clubs on Harry Hines and Industrial. And when I saw the toothbrushes and the fake beard, it made me want to throw up, and that's how I woke up.
I'm so glad I'm separating my blogs like this. I don't think God would appreciate it very much if I posted this rubbish among the other ones that I'm SUPPOSED to share. But I can't help it. Once something is in written form, it's processed and I can move on. Or maybe I just made that up in order to justify my blogging habit.
I'm glad in my dreams I seem to realize that I have choices. I fare much better in my dream life than I do my real life. Being shot seems to be a recurring theme for me. I think that's how my subconscious mind portrays trauma. In fact I remember a friend calling me just a few days after my little brother's death, and all I could say was, "it feels like my entire family was lined up against a wall and shot, all of us, one by one..."
She really didn't know how to respond to that. Oh! Speaking of being machine-gunned against a wall! I don't think I've ever mentioned this in a blog before, but when I was 16 and working at an ice-cream store, I was scooping up this old man a nice cone, and as I handed it to him, I happened to notice that he looked JUST LIKE Al Capone, and I couldn't resist saying so. And the funny thing is, he just stood there, all wide-eyed, peered straight into my eyes and said, "I can't believe you said that." I thought I had offended him, but no, as it turns out, his dad had been one of the men who were shot in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. And the weird thing was, according to him, nobody had ever told him he looked like Al Capone before. As he took his cone and moved down the line I noticed he gave me a second glance over his shoulder.
That's not the first second glance I've ever gotten, the kind of glance that says, I'm not so sure about you...
What on earth was I talking about. Oh yes. My walking away from the understanding gunman. After I walked away from his methodical shooting spree, I walked and walked, and this smile just busted out upon my face for no reason, until I found myself walking right into the back door of my old childhood home. I had a grocery bag with me and it had two bottles of champagne, which I left in the kitchen, and walked to my old bedroom, where I started laughing and arranging things, it was a happy thing. That is until I found myself unpacking from a box that contained one of my dead uncle's belongings, and they weren't even his good belongings. It seemed to be the contents of his bathroom cabinet or something: nasty old toothbrushes and a disgusting fake beard? Do men even wear fake beards? Looking back on this uncle, there's no way his beard was fake. It was very much alive and it was all him. This is the uncle that worked as a bouncer at the strip clubs on Harry Hines and Industrial. And when I saw the toothbrushes and the fake beard, it made me want to throw up, and that's how I woke up.
I'm so glad I'm separating my blogs like this. I don't think God would appreciate it very much if I posted this rubbish among the other ones that I'm SUPPOSED to share. But I can't help it. Once something is in written form, it's processed and I can move on. Or maybe I just made that up in order to justify my blogging habit.
.
This is it! Finally! This is exactly how I feel! I can't believe I found this. I stole this pic off a guy's blog but I'm sure he won't mind. But THIS SAYS IT ALL. Just in case you needed a visual.
...but only in the physical realm. In the Unseen Realm I do just fine. In fact my superfly efficiency in the Unseen Realm could actually be what hinders my progress in the Real World, cause it satisfies me so.
...but only in the physical realm. In the Unseen Realm I do just fine. In fact my superfly efficiency in the Unseen Realm could actually be what hinders my progress in the Real World, cause it satisfies me so.
.
Well it looks like I'll be getting back into the health food stores. Work, I mean. Selling herbs. The very thing I decided not to do anymore, after what happened to my head. After all that I've adopted a new attitude: it's not my problem. Your health issues, that is. Because would it even be right to go back to selling supplements and telling folks what to put in their bodies when I was hit upside the hea WAIT!! I just realized! Not only is it right, but it adds to my whole selling charm! It doesn't compromise a thing! How come I never looked at it this way before? I recovered from encephalitis, the most nasty thing to happen to your head. Just the sound of it is nasty. I bounced back and the only thing different (like I said in previous blog) is my slightly spacey memory. I was thinking about it today and realized, all that means is that I just need to try a little harder. I just haven't been trying I think.
So I can be like, yes, see here Mr. Customer, take this herb and this one and that one too! Take them all! Listen to what I say because I am super-healthy as evidenced by my complete recovery from a bad brain infection.
Well now I'm back to the whole visitor map thing, which I get hooked on, like watching the aquarium at the State Fair that has the big turtle in it, the moss-covered one who has a tricky glowing tongue that lures in the little fish. But about the job thing. I'm dangerous. I'm doing it my way now. All this time I've been playing by these new rules, where you go in and ask for an application, only to be told to go home and apply online. I've been doing this for about 3 months now? 4? 5? I've lost track. I don't know if it's the schedule I'm applying for, or the fact that I haven't been employed in over a year that's holding me back. Who knows. Well I do know the schedule thing is a catch, the place I almost got hired at only needs daytime help, but I can only work in the evenings, because I'm sharing a car with my mom. If it weren't for that I would have been hired this week. But this virtual application deal doesn't work for me. I need human contact. And so that's what I'm going to do. This is how I always used to get jobs in the past. I don't know why I'm just now doing it. I typed up my own version of a resume. It's short, funny, and cute. And then, I take several copies and deposit them generously, like candied sprinkles on cupcakes, all over town, not calling first, not asking, "are you hiring?" and other trivial things. No. This is what works for me. Just walk on in & smile, shake whatever hand is around, put my li'l paper in hand, turn, and walk away. This is exactly how I got my last job and the one before, too. It just sort of goes with me. I'm tired of trying to get a job the real way.
So. I already have about 5 health food stores in mind. New ones that I didn't know existed. I got online & searched in some nearby cities, some smaller places. Yes. I got my eye on a few mom & pop stores. I'm going to do my thing tomorrow. And I'm going to be ballsy.
I guess since this is a new blog I should say, I lost everything when this happened to me. My apartment, job, daughter had to go live with her dad. My state of mind was just blank. Seizures, limping, slurred speech. Perfectly happy to stare at a blank wall all day. I've downplayed it all this time in blogs, mainly because it was too hard to face the reality of it all. In fact I've only recently been processing alot of it and just now grasping the fact that I really did lose everything. Oh and my car too! On top of everything else, I lost my car. I gave it to a relative when I couldn't afford the repairs, thinking a new one would magically appear in my life. It hasn't. I gave it to the relative for him to sell, because he's the one who got it for me to begin with, and I wanted to repay him. So it's not like I just lost my mind and gave away my car.
This has been painfully slow, getting back up and running. If you've never experienced a health crisis and had to drop everything there's no way you'd understand. In fact I never really had that much sympathy for unemployed or disabled folks until now. Now I see the hurdles they have to overcome to get back into the swing of things. And the funny thing is- most of the hurdles are mental! Like, psychological! It's the weirdest thing! Just keeping yourself motivated and keeping yourself afloat is hard. You get depressed. You feel worthless. I've pretty much felt as if I've slipped through the cracks of life.
So I can be like, yes, see here Mr. Customer, take this herb and this one and that one too! Take them all! Listen to what I say because I am super-healthy as evidenced by my complete recovery from a bad brain infection.
Well now I'm back to the whole visitor map thing, which I get hooked on, like watching the aquarium at the State Fair that has the big turtle in it, the moss-covered one who has a tricky glowing tongue that lures in the little fish. But about the job thing. I'm dangerous. I'm doing it my way now. All this time I've been playing by these new rules, where you go in and ask for an application, only to be told to go home and apply online. I've been doing this for about 3 months now? 4? 5? I've lost track. I don't know if it's the schedule I'm applying for, or the fact that I haven't been employed in over a year that's holding me back. Who knows. Well I do know the schedule thing is a catch, the place I almost got hired at only needs daytime help, but I can only work in the evenings, because I'm sharing a car with my mom. If it weren't for that I would have been hired this week. But this virtual application deal doesn't work for me. I need human contact. And so that's what I'm going to do. This is how I always used to get jobs in the past. I don't know why I'm just now doing it. I typed up my own version of a resume. It's short, funny, and cute. And then, I take several copies and deposit them generously, like candied sprinkles on cupcakes, all over town, not calling first, not asking, "are you hiring?" and other trivial things. No. This is what works for me. Just walk on in & smile, shake whatever hand is around, put my li'l paper in hand, turn, and walk away. This is exactly how I got my last job and the one before, too. It just sort of goes with me. I'm tired of trying to get a job the real way.
So. I already have about 5 health food stores in mind. New ones that I didn't know existed. I got online & searched in some nearby cities, some smaller places. Yes. I got my eye on a few mom & pop stores. I'm going to do my thing tomorrow. And I'm going to be ballsy.
I guess since this is a new blog I should say, I lost everything when this happened to me. My apartment, job, daughter had to go live with her dad. My state of mind was just blank. Seizures, limping, slurred speech. Perfectly happy to stare at a blank wall all day. I've downplayed it all this time in blogs, mainly because it was too hard to face the reality of it all. In fact I've only recently been processing alot of it and just now grasping the fact that I really did lose everything. Oh and my car too! On top of everything else, I lost my car. I gave it to a relative when I couldn't afford the repairs, thinking a new one would magically appear in my life. It hasn't. I gave it to the relative for him to sell, because he's the one who got it for me to begin with, and I wanted to repay him. So it's not like I just lost my mind and gave away my car.
This has been painfully slow, getting back up and running. If you've never experienced a health crisis and had to drop everything there's no way you'd understand. In fact I never really had that much sympathy for unemployed or disabled folks until now. Now I see the hurdles they have to overcome to get back into the swing of things. And the funny thing is- most of the hurdles are mental! Like, psychological! It's the weirdest thing! Just keeping yourself motivated and keeping yourself afloat is hard. You get depressed. You feel worthless. I've pretty much felt as if I've slipped through the cracks of life.
.
*sigh*
...my grandmother.
If you knew her you would know what I mean by that sigh. That's the only way to describe her. One sigh says it all.
I'll try to be nice as I tell you what she did today.
Today in the paper there was an article on west nile. It talked about a woman who barely made it, she really had a hard time with it. It got her good. Well guess what my grandmother did today. Just guess.
SHE GOT THIS WOMAN'S NUMBER SOMEHOW and told her all about ME, and then the poor woman called my mother at work. Yes. I am not kidding. Seems my well-meaning grandmother blew my situation out of proportion, made it sound like I was still sick, and the woman called my mom and said to tell me, if I ever have any questions or want to talk about it, to call her.
MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE MY MOTHER'S WORK NUMBER TO a total stranger! My mom was like, ...uh, ok? Who are you again? She said the woman was very friendly and to tell you the truth I secretly do want to talk to her. But not cause I have questions. I think it would be good to know someone else who got it. But I would feel bad, because I'm all better and she's not.
The more I read these people's stories the more I realize how fortunate I am to have recovered so well. It did hit my brain pretty hard, I did have seizures and a mysterious limp in my right leg for a few weeks, memory problems and fatigue from hell. (the fatigue still comes and goes, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, for no reason.) Also the memory thing can be a problem but not all the time and I am not disabled in any way. Just more spacey than I was before, which I think is an advantage, now I'm even more frustrating to those I know and love.
So I'm thinking, should I call this woman? What would I say? Or, do I call my grandmother and let her have it for totally overstepping her bounds and giving out phone numbers to strangers?
Wait! Scratch that. I promised myself I would stop asking questions out loud, in blogs. Just read what I say. I don't want your opinion.
What?
...my grandmother.
If you knew her you would know what I mean by that sigh. That's the only way to describe her. One sigh says it all.
I'll try to be nice as I tell you what she did today.
Today in the paper there was an article on west nile. It talked about a woman who barely made it, she really had a hard time with it. It got her good. Well guess what my grandmother did today. Just guess.
SHE GOT THIS WOMAN'S NUMBER SOMEHOW and told her all about ME, and then the poor woman called my mother at work. Yes. I am not kidding. Seems my well-meaning grandmother blew my situation out of proportion, made it sound like I was still sick, and the woman called my mom and said to tell me, if I ever have any questions or want to talk about it, to call her.
MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE MY MOTHER'S WORK NUMBER TO a total stranger! My mom was like, ...uh, ok? Who are you again? She said the woman was very friendly and to tell you the truth I secretly do want to talk to her. But not cause I have questions. I think it would be good to know someone else who got it. But I would feel bad, because I'm all better and she's not.
The more I read these people's stories the more I realize how fortunate I am to have recovered so well. It did hit my brain pretty hard, I did have seizures and a mysterious limp in my right leg for a few weeks, memory problems and fatigue from hell. (the fatigue still comes and goes, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, for no reason.) Also the memory thing can be a problem but not all the time and I am not disabled in any way. Just more spacey than I was before, which I think is an advantage, now I'm even more frustrating to those I know and love.
So I'm thinking, should I call this woman? What would I say? Or, do I call my grandmother and let her have it for totally overstepping her bounds and giving out phone numbers to strangers?
Wait! Scratch that. I promised myself I would stop asking questions out loud, in blogs. Just read what I say. I don't want your opinion.
What?
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