Friday, April 28, 2017

Leaky Ceiling

Planning when I already have a plan.
I found a library book under my bed from last year. At that time, I spoke with the librarian, insisting I returned the book. She was really nice, and said she'd take the fee off the account, but if I find it, to bring it in. I assured her I wasn't going to find it, since I returned the book, and they somehow missed scanning it back into their inventory. Well, after I found it I decided I'd suck it up, and return it. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses, I dropped it in the drop box, after hours.

Last month I went on a spree at the library. My account should stop letting me check out books after four. The screen should read, "Denied, because it's impossible for you to read all this in three weeks!" But against my judgement, I kept checking out books on paranormal activity. Then the due date came up, and my email reminders to return the books, and I swept them all into a canvas tote, and dropped them off, unread. Shortly after, I received an email about a book I thought I returned with the stack. If I went there to explain that, once again, they actually just missed returning my book, I figured they'd ban me, so I decided to sit on the email, steer clear of the library, and I bought a book on Amazon.

I went for humor this time because I can't get back into reading ghost stories till I rescue an alligator to sit on my doorstep 24 hours a day. This book has 4.5 stars and over a thousand reviews on Amazon, I thought I'd surely be laughing-my-ass-off to sleep each night, but trying to read this book is torture. How could a book be so highly peer reviewed and such a steaming pile of doo? Im half way through, and can't even consider picking it up again. When there are chapterS(!) completely made up of text message chains about bull shit, it's clear there was an attempt to fill out the fifty pages of funny material, with three hundred pages of stupid-ass-shit (thats an actual critical term.) The tone is someone who drank a pot of coffee, snorted some cocaine, and is telling a story while frantically looking for lost keys. Its excruciating.

An expected surprise occurs when I start my car. Apple Music randomly chooses a song and it blasts through the silence, knocking me back in my seat. Sometimes Apple Music gets it right, and I buckle up and zoom away. But other times it starts to play songs that I need ten years or so before hearing. If Blitzen Trapper or Kurt Vile start in on their folksy folk songs, my initial reaction is to punch a hole in the dash console. But I scavenge through my purse, raking through napkins, receipts and new additions to my kids' rock collection to find my phone that is most likely not in that giant pit, but smartly tucked in the small front pocket. After I'm forced to confront emotions and thoughts like, Did I just hate myself that much, drift up from the silt in my shaken mind, I find the phone and pick out a new song.

The other night I had a dream I was walking down the hallway, and noticed the celieng was leaking outside the bathroom. I looked closer and saw blood was dripping, not water. Then the leak started gushing, like a hose, spraying blood all over the place. After waking up from this, I panicked. The raining blood could most definitely mean something disastrous, but if I think of it as just a leaky ceiling, then its still not good, but not as bad. Because females regularly bleed, bled or are going to bleed, dreaming about blood ins't necessarily associated with danger. And I can attribute the blood in the dream to my flow coming almost two weeks early. I don't keep a calendar with this info, but this time I know for sure because I went to the gynecologist the first week of April, and as he put it, "I see you're on the tail end of things."
I decided to go to the doctor on my own, without the advice of a woman who charges $400 an hour, so I can get my clean bill of health and find something else to think about. He was a really nice guy, actually full of productive advice and support. We talked about life. He's from the East Coast and has a daughter my age. I told him about my situation and then, he went in with the clamp thing, carrying on conversation. He stood up, and with one hand in me, and another pressing down on my lower abdomen, he said he thought I was handling things well. He sees how fixating on a breakup can be a form of self torture, so its best to stay positive.

Afterward he wanted to talk about birth control. I'm a mid thirties woman whose never been on birth control; possible link to my semi-successuful marriage (everyone gets a trophy, dammit!) And, well, all those videos from health class in high school had a really big impact on me. I can't understand why someone would want to be out free fucking without using condoms. Are people forgetting how terrifying Aids was in the nineties. I was just a kid, but the illusion of sex was quite terrifying after being told repeatedly it leads to a slow torturous death.
My doctor let me know that one day I'll get back out there, and need to get on some form of birth control because, and he eye-balled my chart, theres maybe ten years I could conceive.
I told him, if the time comes, I'll give him a call, but for now Im good. He let me know that regardless of pregnancy, the pill is very good for keeping periods regular and minimizing PMS.
I consider my interloping period to be a super power. I can jump onto any woman's cycle who waves at me, and I don't associate PMS with bitchiness, but rather, extreme clarity. So, its all good. He gave me parting advice, get back into data analysis, you got mouths to feed.
"But you don't understand, I'm INFJ! Do you think it's too late to become a singer? I just need to learn how to sing."


I want to make a million dollars, and probably for the wrong reason, it will be the ultimate Burn. Job searching is such a bore, and I really need to get things sorted in my head. Like should I be practical or dream big. I'd like to do both, but sometimes they don't align. The last couple weeks I have been spending so much energy thinking about this, and its actually a big ass waste of time. I have an excellent one year plan that allows me to work part time teaching. So next year, when George starts kindergarten, I need to get the full time job and find a new house.
The one thing that keeps derailing my one year plan is when I think, but it can take a year to find a job. But it most likely won't and this unnecessary worry is keeping me from living in the moment. Egh, I sound like the annoying book I have to donate to the library.

This is my first weekend without the kids. I am most definitely not wasting time applying jobs that I don't want until Fall 2018. I have so many other things to do, like make my daughter a Glenda the Good Witch costume, clean a couple things around my house, work on a writing project and watch some movies! When I was looking for something else to read, I swept through the pile of magazines on my bedside table, a table I searched twice already, and I found the paranormal book I lost after never reading it , and, like that, I can return it to the library and instead of being a patron who looses books, Im a patron who pays big late fees. I have a bit of time before I need to be a fully functioning head-of-household, so I need to keep reminding myself to take my time, and think things through. Sometimes it stresses me out, but there's no reason to rush, sometimes things come out of nowhere. It's not like the roof is falling in on us.

2 comments:

  1. I saw this and had to check if your ceiling was leaking! LOL.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Glad it was just a dream! ...and I didn't notice the date until afterwards.

    ReplyDelete