Skip to content
February 15, 2014 / memoriesofagoldfish

Mulligan.

I’m not sure where to start on this one because it’s been a month and a half and I’m still not sure what I’m doing, where I’m going or what I should be doing or headed to. I also don’t think I should have to know any of that shit. I’ve had a million ideas and thoughts that should lead to something but I’m afraid to bite the bullet or take the plunge or whatever people in my situation do. I’m frozen by the fear of failure or a bad decision. I’m still waiting for the bank to come get my car because I don’t trust that I really got it, that it’s really mine.

Here goes: Mark and I were together for 10 years and we decided to get married. Since we’d been together that long it seemed like a great idea I loved him (still do) and he said he loved me. Plus we could use the tax break because it cost a lot of money to move to PA.

We got married on December 21. Then, ON MY BIRTHDAY, less than 2 weeks after he promised to love me in front of God and a legal representative from the State of Delaware, I picked up his iPad to use while mine charged and found a conversation between him and one of our wedding witnesses where Mark professed his love for him and assured him that he completed him in a way that I never could. Complete with self-nudies.

I don’t think if it had been a normal conversation and it was just him and some guy trading nude selfies I would have been calm. But I was calm. I still am. To have someone you love so completely and to whom you’ve just pledged to continue loving and supporting and taking on the world every day say to someone else that you weren’t good enough for all of him. That this new person he’s know for 4 months was a better match for him than I ever could be. My following him to Colorado, moving to his home state, supporting him mentally and monetarily while he worked on his PhD and continuing to believe in him when other people didn’t. No, I did not see that coming. Not to mention I say to people all the time with complete facetiousness that they complete me. (Jerry MaGuire, anyone?)

My friend Josh was visiting from Ohio and investigating school opportunities in the Philadelphia Metro Area so I walked in to the living room where he was sitting and handed him the iPad and asked him if I was awake. He confirmed and I texted Mark asking him why he married me. Why waste my fucking time? Why have the new love of your life sign his name to my marriage certificate? Why let me believe that we would continue our lives together until we died, in sickness and health…yadda, yadda, yadda if you didn’t mean a word of it? Why make the vow? Why wreck my life for what I can’t imagine will last 6 months.
I could be wrong about that one, but the new boyfriend already has a partner of 15 years. They have 9 dogs together. So Mark is their third and I would have been their fourth. He had planned on giving me an ultimatum when he got home from Denver on my birthday. I could accept this or he would leave. Because he doesn’t do ultimatums. You see the irony, right?

I’m a lot of things. I’m a fool for not seeing it. I’m ashamed in ways I can’t make enough excuses about for staying with him for 10 years. He’s lied and cheated on me before and every time he gets caught. And every time I take him back. I loved him, I really did. Still do. I think that when people think poorly of themselves, they do things like open relationships. I let Mark wander around. I even tried it myself. It never felt good. I never really enjoyed it because it was Mark I was supposed to be with. I know it works for a lot of people, but it doesn’t work for me.

That, friends, was the beginning of the end. In order to stay with Mark and have him love me I had to devalue everything that was important to me. A relationship built on partnership. I allowed other people to be with him so that he’d stay happy. Just to keep him coming home to me. How long can I keep that up and not lose part of me. Silly.

I fell in love with his family, too. I love his parents. His brother and sister in law and cousins Dave and Joelle. Even his sister liked me at first. Everyone on the East Coast is AWESOME. People came out of the woodwork to wish us well and welcome me to the family. It was nice. So nice.
They were always glad to see me and I always felt welcome. Now I’m supposed to say goodbye to them? No.
Mark was supposed to get home late on my birthday eve, he chose to go see his new boyfriend first and only spent a few hours with me on Saturday to discuss what was going to happen. How much input he’d get and what was my timeframe for leaving. Got a watch? Time me. Fast and as soon as there’s a break in the weather. He continued to say that I was the one that was doing the leaving, not him. This wasn’t his doing. It was mine. I chose to leave so I would have to bear the brunt of the consequences.
Um…do you have a head injury? On what planet are people so devoid of morals that what you just did to me would be okay? Who will be on your side? Who is supporting you? The new guy? Well, I think you can probably get some bad advice from him. Probably not the best life coach for you right now.

I don’t think he thought I’d really do it, but here I am. Slap in the middle of Indiana and I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to be doing or how long survival mode will last. My only plan is to go back to PA to get the rest of my stuff and my cat and disappear from his life until we can get divorced. Which is going to be a while.

Maybe someday we can be friends, but I’m not really ready to play nice. What he did was sociopathic and cruel. I’ve had people be mean to me, but not from my life partner, my best friend, my lover…my husband. And who knows, I may not like the person he is after I rediscover the person I am. Honestly, who would let someone do that to them without a trip to jail? I don’t know that I’ll like the person he is when I remember who I am without him.

June 6, 2013 / memoriesofagoldfish

Selectric Blog Post

Selectric Blog Post

I typed this!

April 25, 2013 / memoriesofagoldfish

The latest job hunt…

I’ve been applying to jobs that I’m overqualified for because I want something that’s easy while I go back to school for a couple of classes and then possibly an MBA.  We’ll see.  I’m back in the same boat where you have to fill out a zillion questions and forms and places and spots and attach your cover letter and be a circus poodle.   Today’s was the worst.

Shit you not here is the body of the email:

Thank you for applying to the HR Assistant Position.  Below you will find a list of questions along with a link to our skills assessment.  In order to be considered for this position both must be completed.  The skills assessment will take approximately 55 minutes.

1.  Why are you looking for a position?

2.  What is your salary expectation for this role?  (Negotiable is not an acceptable response)

3.  Do you meet the minimum qualifications for this position?  If so, please provide specifics dates, examples.

4.  Is there anything that would hinder your ability to be shift flexible?  Working variable shifts, weekends, nights and holidays is a requirement of this role.

5.  What interested you in this position?

6.  Give 2 examples of how you have partnered with internal and external customers.

Initially I thought all 6 questions were for the interview, and should only be asked at the interview.  However, we’re poor so I decided that I’d go ahead and jump through the skills assessment.  It’s an HR position so I assumed it would be benefits and policy questions, labor laws, FMLA…shit like that.  WRONG.  It was a personality analysis (I don’t have one.)  A math test (what I’m going back to school for.) And that took over 30 minutes THEN I got to some shape-matching bullshit that caused me to lose my mind.  I kinda feel like it was a joke.  Like someone’s thesis was based on how far they could get you to go with that before you started crying or closed out.

I’m 40.  I’m applying for a reception position where I don’t have to think much and I just look pretty because I’m fairly certain that this math class I have to take is going to test my sanity and my “marriage.”  I shan’t be coming back from it!

I’m going to paste the link here and I hope that someone else tries it because I really think it’s bullshit.  Judges?

http://www.ondemandassessment.com/verify/apply/BBBBDDB/DEnPEbh  Feel free to make up a name and email.  Fifty-five minutes, my ass.

September 29, 2011 / memoriesofagoldfish

I Am Not Special

Realizations usually hit you in the dark of night going 80 on the freeway, right?  No?  Just me?  K.

I have given the, “You are not special,” speech so many times over the years, but no one has ever given it to me.  It goes something like this:  You are not special.  You have to have a job, you have to work and you have to contribute every day if you expect to reap any benefits of being a responsible adult in society.  Get off your ass and ditch the entitlement complex.

So now I’m givin’ it to myself.

I am not special.  I do not deserve to sit around on my ass at home eating bon-bons while someone else tends to my needs.  I am free, able and willing.  I need to do it for me.  I am not mentally unstable (much) and I don’t have any disability aside from hateful bitchiness.  Yes, it seems debilitating, but I manage with it just fine, thankyouverymuch.

When I was younger I used to find answers to life’s questions in the simplest things like movies, songs and books or from just observing someone else’s life.  If I was looking for the answer to something it would materialize.  Best.  Gift.  EVER!  There was no wandering around the country for 3 years or magical wish that switched my body with my mom’s on Friday or some shit like that.  I lost it somewhere along the way, but maybe I’m not listening hard enough.  That’s the thing about being a know-it-all… heavy burden.  Must carry.

This job thing keeps coming back to haunt me.  Because I believe we’re all here to learn something I think mine revolves around being able to work a job and do what I’m told without all the drama.  I just don’t know how to do it, hence the lesson.  Maybe the lesson is that it’s just not that big of a deal.  I keep thinking, “Don’t I deserve a good boss?  Don’t I deserve to have a job that I like that I can do that I like and I’m good at?”  Probably.  But have I earned it?

I keep coming home looking for an answer that I’m not getting.  When I was a kid Mom set me straight and told me to get my head out of my butt all the time.  I will tell you that I may not pretend to hear your advice or I may not seem like I am listening, but I always do.  If it doesn’t sink in right now, it will register eventually.  Probably while I’m telling you to kiss the fattest part of my ass and throwing gravel as I drive away from you.  I have always understood the adage, “…cut your nose off to spite your face.”  I have no idea how I have a nose left.

I don’t know why I think that the answer is here, that if I just keep coming back eventually it will be the right time and I’ll get the answer that I’m looking for.  Is it because it’s home?  I always say the only things to do here are get high, get pregnant or get out.  I chose the latter.  Let me just state for the record…the answer is NOT here.  Also?  I’m not sure what the question is.

I left here for a reason.  Dur.  Places change, people change…or they don’t.  Which brings me to my next point and feel free to call me on my bullshit here.  I think that if your life is so crooked you have to screw your socks on in the morning, you might want to change something.  It takes work, consistency and commitment.  Everyone is allowed to be lazy now and then, but you don’t deserve it all the time.  I struggle with this daily, but I just realized tonight that you can’t hide from yourself, anywhere with anyone.  You will eventually find you.  (Do the math.)

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m pretty self-aware.  I am the strong one most of the time and I keep moving in a forwardly direction…usually.  Even when I’m feeling weak, I still try to pretend that I’m made of steel and that I don’t have feelings that can be hurt and I’m ready for any eventuality.  That takes it toll, people.  I have crow’s feet and they’re not pretty.  However, I like…no I LOVE to be counted on.  I love to rescue anyone, all the time.  It’s a curse.  I don’t know where it comes from and generosity also takes its toll, make a note.

This feels more like a rant than a realization, but it’s mine.  I’ve been in some foggy stupor since I got off the plane in Indianapolis.  I haven’t felt like myself and I haven’t been easy to live with or be around.  I don’t like that, but when you’re working on you, you’re sometimes selfish.  I’m apologizing for that right now to the universe and anyone I’ve ticked off.  Snarky is not always pretty but it goes with my shoes.

Lastly, I have no idea how Mark does it every day.  I couldn’t live with me.  I’d smother me in my sleep and make it look like the C-PAP machine had a malfunction.  He’s not always an angel, but he puts up with crazy a lot.  I am thankful for everyone in my life and that you all entertain the notion that I’m sane.  After all, I am not special.

June 24, 2011 / memoriesofagoldfish

Emailing Jen Lancaster…

I’m sure that while high on Ambien I thought we had some sort of kinship because she also takes Ambien and does silly things like buy Barbie heads on the internet and has no recollection of it until it shows up at her door…Ahhh, Ambienesia…how I know you.  The following is my email to her that I do not remember sending, but did apparently send.  I have removed my name to hide my shame.

To Jen Lancaster  06/06/11

From Me

First off I want to say thank you for introducing me to Chick Lit and most of all memoirs.  I had no idea how enlightening the story of a gal gone wrong could be!  I would never have paid it any attention.  I don’t even know what the other gays read these days?  My current pool of friends in Colorado don’t read anything and can’t share and have book swaps.  It’s sad.  Here I sit, 12:30 in the morning, 2 beers and an Ambien on board eating peanut butter out of a jar with a banana and thinking…”I should think her profusely for her summer reading lists that I follow and love.”

I am unemployed and I have a Kindle.  Bring. It. ON!

Thanks!

Sidebar:  Chelsea Handler is a lunatic and I have cut off my pretend celebrity friendship with her for fear that she would fuck with me, too.

[redacted@redacted.com]

To Me
From Jen Lancaster    06/23/11
Nick,
I’m so glad my choices didn’t disappoint!
Best,
Jen


I’m pretty sure she waited so long because she was afraid that I was typing from her bushes and trying to send her messages in the form of dog poo sculpture.  Thoughts?
June 13, 2011 / memoriesofagoldfish

Who dreams like this?

Why am I still dreaming that I work for THE JOB or that I go back there and get stuck in a different position?  I quit the job of my own free will.  I am not ill, I did not get fired but…here is last night’s feature in great detail:

I have been on sick leave for six months and needed to go back in to prepare for my return.  Check email, supply levels…whatever.   The office has completely changed.  New carpet, places to sit that are covered in said carpet.  It looked like a skating rink.  I sit at my desk and I’m going through my email and a few files, starting a “to do” list and someone coms up and asks me to come with them so he can figure out who I am.

I tell him who I am and he has no idea (shock) and I assure him that my job is very important and that I NEED to be here right now to prepare for my return, for then, the celebration will commence.  (How am I a bigger douche in my dream than in real life?)  He allows me to go back to my desk and continue working.

As I’m sitting at my desk this time I realize someone else has been using it.  There are signs…and a different calendar than I had.  Whatever, I’m on a mission to prepare to come back to work.  Each time I’m back at my desk after wandering away (which is a lot) one of the walls is missing…

Next the president of the new company that bought out THE JOB and is making changes comes to reclaim his desk.  You see, I am sitting at the president and CEO’s desk.  They wanted mine for it’s prime locale.  Not an office with windows, mind you, my cubicle in the middle of the floor in a high traffic area.

He decides that he can share information with me because I’m leaving anyway and they’re about to announce the sale and takeover on Monday.  So he mumbles all of the details to me and I can’t hear him despite asking him to repeat himself so I have no idea if I still have a job or not or if he’s interested in placing me in a different position with the new company.  He very clearly says he would like to do that and then mumbles incoherently again the details of the position and when I should start.

We then start copying my files from my computer to a server location so that they’ll be safe and he warns me not to unplug the computer without properly shutting it down.  I gather my belongings and leave without telling anyone the “secret” and my arms are full of my stuff and I am frantically trying to get to my phone to call Stacy so I can ask her what the hell is going on and why didn’t she tell me?  Of course, whenever I leave THE JOB in a dream I can never remember which exit is the fastest to use and so I wonder for a second how I’ll get out and then I just decide to pick a door to leave by so I don’t look like an idiot and I’ll just walk around the building until I find my car.

Stacy was incredibly helpful and filled me in on what happened and how the company was going to be a tech company that specialized in cloud storage instead of insurance.  Yep, makes complete sense.  I was sober when I went to bed last night.  Who wouldn’t want to hire my delusional ass to represent their company?

April 6, 2011 / memoriesofagoldfish

Updates and Shenanigans

This entry brought to you by MS Word via my laptop.

The job hunt is going swimmingly and by that I mean I’m drowning in boredom. I’ve been to all the job sites and the temp agency sites and I’ve sent out a zillion resumes and cover letters, which are mostly fiction and if anyone tells you different it’s because they’re employed. Cover letters should be customized for each application and that in itself is exhausting. Add to it the Taleo online application system and you’ve got a recipe for carpal tunnel syndrome.

I’d also like to formally address how companies do not acknowledge your submission in any way. Really? I put up with your crappy excuse for a website, your pre-employment questionnaire and your typos while submitting my perfectly-crafted resume and cover letter and you’re probably wiping your electronic butt on my uploaded resume. Consideration. Have some.

Enter home improvement, or most recently, mobile home improvement. Last Saturday we got the camper out of storage to prepare for living in, I mean, camping…and I noticed a small leak. Eighty degrees on Saturday, so I opened it up parked it in the sun and let it dry out, thinking that I’d recaulk it on the next dry day. It snowed and rained on Sunday and rewetting ensued. Yesterday was nice. OH! I can caulk in an afternoon! It’s easy!

There were no fewer than 100 different types of caulk at the hardware store. Really? Caulk? Okay.

The hardware store lady was old, grizzled and deep-voiced. I asked about caulk, talked about my project and she just turned around and walked away. I thought she had a stroke and followed the smell of toast, while I returned to reading tube labels. She returned a minute later with some sort of non-silicone based caulk/roof sealer. So I took it and turned around and walked off. Turnabout is? I also purchased a caulk gun, because $5 now is cheaper than what I would have paid myself to search for our ratty old on in the garage.

Did you know this about caulk? It now has a foil seal on in inside of it just before the plastic nipple-applicator thingy. This is problematic for me because for as long as squeezy ketchup has been around I cannot remember to take the foil seal off before I squeeze so hard I give myself a hemmorysm (hemorrhoid + aneurysm.) No amount of squeezing that gun will make your caulk poke through your foil seal. It will bust out the sides like Pilsbury biscuits, though.

Trip 2 to the hardware store. They replaced it because. “…it shouldn’t have done that.” I bought 2 tubes of caulk this time. I promptly broke off the plastic nipple-applicator thingy off of the second one, which made the foil easy to reach, but rendered the tube of caulk unusable.

Tube 3: Locked and loaded. I cut the tip at an angle that I thought was acceptable and finally found a straw small enough to fit in the hole and proceeded to POKE THE SHIT out of the foil until I hit gold. Sweet, smelly, caulky gold.

From the internet sites I read on recaulking your camper roof, you need to remove old caulk and then you need to clean the area. They sold a caulk-removal tool at the hardware store but the same research told me that I could just use a knife or razor blade. I have fingers like sausages so I avoid sharp slicey things. Old steak knife it is. Guess who cut themselves on their “caulk-removal tool?” Bloody caulk. No, really.

I used an entire tube (read 3) and 4 hours of my day and I bet I didn’t get 1/10th of that camper caulked and now it’s cold again and I have to wait for it to warm up before I can finish it. Mark’s brother stopped by to give me tips on caulking and I am apparently the worst. Caulker. Ever.

After that I rearranged the living room and by moving my couch 45 degrees have made it seem considerably smaller and opened the floor up for game play! Then I had a problem with MS Word on my desktop computer and decided I could “fix” it. I can’t get word to open up after several installs with different versions and a complete system wipe and restore from backup, but I did wipe out my iTunes library AGAIN. This was a Microsoft issue (Word) so none of that OS bashing.

Mark is busy at school toiling away at his PhD and gone for 14-16 hours a day and I am home alone. Who would leave me alone that much? It makes me have 4 hotdogs for dinner, shoot zombies and shop for new campers on Craigslist. If I had the ambition to do more… Speaking of, as I click “Post” on this entry I realize that my neighbors have probably done my laundry again because I forgot sheets in the washer 4 days ago. Ambition? Check.