A Bit Of Sunday Soul-Searching (And Whining)

After the week I've had, I've done a lot of thinking. Like, why am I always the one left sacrificing and no one else bothers trying? Why am I always the one that has to back down and let everyone else have their way? Why do I always get overlooked, no matter what the situation is?

Why am I still wearing the same stuff I wore in High School, even though it doesn't fit anymore?! I need some new clothes.. bad.

I know it sounds completely whiny, but seriously, I'm always the one left holding the short straw. No one ever listens to anything I have to say, and it's easy for people to treat me poorly. I guess I'm not as bad ass as I would like to think. I always end up being the one who backs down, and gives others their way. It's becoming quite the burden, actually, and I'm getting tired of being treated like what I think or feel doesn't matter.

The only thing that I have any real control over is my writing, so I just keep clinging to it. I have like 30 random pieces I've been piddling around with, none of which are finished. I've been so down lately, I don't know how I'll pick myself up off my pillow pet some days.

Don't judge me, that thing is the best invention ever. It's the perfect pillow, complete with a place to hold onto.. the head. And it's soft and comfy and doesn't leave me waking up with a rat's nest where my hair used to be.

I make the budget and the meal plan for the two weeks in between paychecks and the likes. No one bothers to even acknowledge it. The budget is like a guideline to people.. except me. So, when we run short, or have to skip out on something, it's me that's left giving something up (like coffee and Dr. Pepper, two of my four vices). The one that tries so hard to make everything balance is always the one left out, and left holding all the blame.

I recently had no other option than to buy new glasses. I had to blow my budget to get my lenses, so I was left a crying mess in the middle of Lenscrafters. This also happened when I had to buy a pair of boots to make it through winter. If I have to spend something on myself, I get really out-of-sorts, and when I realized that the following two weeks would be tight, I made the decision to take the glasses back. I was told not to, that it wouldn't serve any purpose, and yet no one bothered to help see where we could cut random spending to make things a little less strained at the bank. Just me.

Now, I used to get told the reason that I had to make sacrifices (like not eating for days, and not sleeping, etc) was because I didn't have a job. Even when I had a job, it wasn't one where I "punched a time clock", so it was considered "stupid doodles on the internet". It really hurts to know that I'm not appreciated for the long hours and dedication I put in to be someone.. to make something of myself.. to better our family.

I have no say in anything, and yet everything is left up to me. I moved home, with my mom, not because I'm a loser, but to help her. My parents are older than most of my friend's my age, and my mom is all alone. She works long hours in a really strenuous place, and she just couldn't keep going the way she was and not have any help around the house. I help with the bills as much as I can, and I cook, clean, run errands, make phone calls, and try to relieve some stress on her.

I don't mind, not even in the least. I love this house, this area, and my mom. She's one of my best friends, as well as a huge supporter of my aspirations to do something with my life. She supports my long hours, lack of good pay, and dedication. She takes over the dishes and the laundry when she's off, and it's a huge help. She lets me sleep in when she knows I've been up too late, and helps me with the Kid. I try to make things as easy as possible, but it always seems like something goes wrong, and I'm left feeling like the worst daughter ever.

I just get sick and tired of everyone thinking I'm some terrible person because I don't visit often enough, or do things their way. I get tired of being made to "go along" with whatever everyone else wants, and told to basically not have an opinion or desire that isn't going to be the same as theirs. It really sucks, and it gets me down.

THEN I start feeling like a douchebag because I'm whining and feeling all "poor me". I spend all day acting happy and tough, but sometimes, I just can't play the part anymore. Like last night.. when I texted a friend, crying and down, and spilled all my crap onto him. It wasn't fair, and I still need to tell him I'm sorry. I don't have anyone to talk to, because if I say anything to anyone, I'm a bitch and I just want to make someone miserable.

That's totally not true. I'm actually a really nice person, who's constantly a door mat. I get pushed around, used, treated like crap.. hell, I've been told I'm worthless, the worst thing that ever happened to Husband, a bad parent... my kid has told me she doesn't love me so many times I've become almost completely numb. I'm no good, a time suck, I don't do anything but play around on the computer all day, etc. It really gets old hearing these things all the time. Especially when I hear them from my kid and people I don't even know.

Why would anyone talk about me like that? I try so hard to make everyone happy, that I end up losing my own needs and wants in the process. If I actually stand up for myself, I get threatened and talked down to until I just give in, because I've given up.

Is this how it's supposed to be? I thought compromise was a two-way street? Since when was it okay to make someone your punching bag, again and again, and treat them like they aren't important. Everyone, in some way or another, is important. Everyone has a mind and feelings, and they matter. Even if they're different than you, they still deserve to be happy, heard, acknowledged, and loved.


I guess I'm jut tired of feeling worthless to everyone. Also, I'm really tired of feeling down on myself. I guess when you hear it every day, you just kind-of start to believe it. That shouldn't happen, but it does. I'm only human, and I can only take so much shit from people before I get overloaded.

I wish I was the happy little bad ass that everyone thinks I am.. I used to be.. I guess I've just gotten lost along the way.

Socks And Dish Gnomes

So I came to the conclusion long ago, and reaffirmed last night, that missing socks and the likes = laundry Gnomes, right?

Well, dishes have Gnomes too, dammit!
let's get some story action going --

I was all set to go to bed last night at an extremely awesome and human time. 10 p.m. Right?

Wrong.

Husband informed me that I had to wash socks. Just socks. Nothing else... socks.



 

socks... well, ABU socks, but still socks.


He couldn't just look through the laundry baskets and find another pair that were already clean - they HAD to be the ones that he wears every Monday that have the crusted and rotted elastic and that huge toe hole.


I assume the hole is important for proper toe-breathing. What else could it POSSIBLY be?

So I run all around the house, upstairs and down, looking for all of his work crap so I can actually do a full load -- meaning I'm digging in toy boxes, under couches, inside random cabinets and drawers; with the main goal of finding socks. Please remember to note that this is a toddlers home.






yes, this is mine... I know. Don't say anything...


Flash to like 20 + minutes later...


I finally have everything wrangled together in one general pile, right? I start the laundry and settle in to surfing YouTube and playing my Facebook app obsession.

Flash to 10 or so minutes later... Yes, I "flash". I'm a Super Hero with awesome-super hero-Jedi-Ninja powers. Be warned.

I decide that I'm bored, and I want to do something productive with the hour and six minutes it takes to wash the clothes - the dishes.

YAY! I'm not procrastinating! (see previous blog about procrastination here)

Well I figure out there are several ways that I can use my time wisely. I can make the tea which I almost forgot was steeping in the kettle on the stove. I usually forget up to three times before there's finally a gallon of sweet tea in the fridge for Husband and Munchface -- an oversight that I blame on the knowledge that I'm allergic and making it breaks me out. Hives = un-cool un-fun-ness. The end.

I can pick up toys, fix up my coffee so all I have to do is press a button and I get caffeinated amazing-ness in the morning, and yes, the dishes.






the cleaning process - you shoulda seen it before o_o;







I also did something nice and set up a "thank you" picture for the person who gave the board to Munchface...







NOMZ!


I do all of the above, and re-settle onto my little spot on the couch to continue my internet debauchery - my little way of doing the whole "relax" and "piddle around" thing...


Ninja-Jedi-super hero-awesome -flash to the highly annoying "beep" sequence of the wash cycle ending...


I'm extremely excited -- it's time for bed and the dishes are done, the toys are put away, the coffee is ready to brew, the tea is made, the internet is surfed, and now the laundry is done - go me.






I even made up a list for Husband ^_^


I get up to meander in to the laundry room, dreading the weight of three sets of ABUs, 7 shirts, and numerous pairs of sock, and what do I see?



DISHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!






This is after I picked them up, but you get the idea (yes, that's my heat that I pack - are you scared?)



ksjdhfskjdhfskjdhfksjhdfksjhdfkjshdfkjshdfkjsdhfkjsdhfkjshdfkjhsdkjfhskdgfouweroiweyisdbvkjsdbvsmcnvakdjfoqeihfFUCK!

DUDE! Did I not JUST do a LOAD of DISHES?!

Dish Gnome, you sneaky, sneaky little rat bastard!

And it's not like it's a load of dishes, either.

It's a fucking cup; It's a fucking salad fork; It's two fucking dishes.






fuck you, dishes.


Do not fail to note that it's Husband's TEA glass -- complete with sticky tea goop in the bottom that I can't scrub out by hand because my hand doesn't fit into teeny tiny crevices, and neither does my sponge.

And they're sitting there all defiantly in the window sill where he put them...




Now, everyone is always complaining about their Laundry Gnomes. Not this guy; This guy is complaining about Dish Gnomes.

Dish Gnomes are not responsible for missing silverware - no, not that. They're responsible for fucking up your clean kitchen and your life with randomly-placed dirty dishes that escaped the last load of the day.


I was so proud of myself and all that I had accomplished... Braving the case lot sale crowd at the Commissary for groceries; Cleaning my house; Cleaning my bird's cage like I was preparing it for his transformation into the first Zombie cockatiel; Cooking a dinner that pleased everyone, including small person a.k.a Munchface; drawing awesome chalk art at 9:30 p.m to amuse Munchface while she trampled invisible bugs and alerted the neighborhood of their impending doom of the presence of the moon at the top of her lungs and honestly didn't really pay all that much attention to my chalk art so I really didn't have to do it but I did at the same time because that's just what the fuck I HAD TO DO...






when he goes Zombie, he's going in style, son...







the rabbit is NOT mine; it's Husband's...







that weird duck thing isn't mine, either.


.. and these two tiny dishes are just fucking raining despair and defeat on my sunshine-and-fucking-rainbow-cereal-shitting-unicorns day.

I felt like the biggest domestic failure ever.




Jedi-Ninja-super hero FLASHHHHHHHhhhh!!! ...


So now I'm sitting outside chain-smoking and sipping the first soda I've had in months; debating on whether or not this is an epic enough emergency to call my Mom's work and have them page her so I can wait ten minutes just to be able to cry about my meaningless woes to someone who gives a shit about me..

Because if Husband loved me, even a smidge, he would've put the dishes in the fucking kitchen where the Dish Gnomes couldn't ruin my night.




Touché, Dish Gnome. You're the clear victor in this battle.

You've won my sanity and an all-expense paid cruise vacation to suck my hypothetical balls.




Douche-y as you are, I applaud thee.












random picture of something I made for work, because I feel like putting it here. fucking deal, son.

Procrastination And Dinosaurs, Now With Clay-mation!

In lieu of cleaning my kitchen, I'm going to blog.
Procrastination is awesome, is it not? I used to be an expert in the art, but as I got older, I got my life under control and always had things done on time.

Erm... yeah, not so much now.

I'll pretty much put anything off that I can. There are some days I work and take care of Munchface, but that's about all I get done. I even make Husband get dinner if I'm feeling especially lazy. Now, that may not sound like procrastination, but trust me, it is. I have to clean my kitchen, and here I sit... here I've sat.

For two days.

It's just some dishes, and by some I mean like two plates and three cups and a skillet used to make eggs -- I just procrastinated writing by playing Jedi balloons with Munchface... see?! I'm hopeless.

I seriously should be up doing something productive with my time - like the dishes.

But Husband has dinosaurs on his computer screen, and I'm inclined to watch that and cartoons with Munchface. Which paid off because I just heard the words Zombie and brain-swapping in the same sentence. Epic!

I think I'll read some of my book and then get up and do the dishes and wash up some uniforms for the week so Husband doesn't try to wear the same shirt twice. He decided to do his own laundry last week, and only did one shirt and three pairs of socks.

Um, yeah, not gonna work.
Especially when there are five work days, four deducting Blues Monday from the equation.


Yep, I just stalled out again by googling reasons dog tag silencers can smell like a perm. Don't ask.

Here's to procrastination. I just got to see a Youtube video of dinosaur clay-mation.

AWESOME!!




watch herez :o!





Fin.