Torn

I've struggled all day long with whether or not to blog.  Today was kind of a crap day.  I have a Bachelor's Degree that now feels essentially useless.  And ten years of experienced flushed down the toilet.  Ten years of heart sucking soul sucking work driven by the want to help others.  Gone.

I know, in my rational mind, that it's not really gone.  I did help some people.  I played a positive role in some lives and for the most part I'm proud of the work I did.

I'm not proud of the level of pride that kept me working there as long as it did.  In part there was a financial issue but I also always said I didn't want to let "them" have the last laugh.  Yet, today, I'm pretty sure they laughed 'til they cried.

And I?

Just cried.

I cried out of anger and frustration.  With them and with myself.  I should've known better, I should've played it safe, I should've quit before I began to spontaneously combust, verbally, on the internet. 

Except where would I be then?

Still there.  Still fighting for nothing.  Putting all I had into a place that only wanted to take and never to give back.   A place where I was and am disposable.

I am tired.  Earlier today I was angry.  And yet the level of emotional fatigue has left me too exhausted to vent properly.  And, they are still likely following me and reading this and even though I've already severed all trust (their words, not mine), they'll continue to watch.  Watch and wait for me to do something else.  For their comedic pleasure.

Fuck, I'm mad.

Next time round we'll be discussing mitigating factors.  That, friends, rest assured, will be more charged up angry with a touch of humour.  I promise.

Lard is not Good for You

Yesterday was not good.   Today is.  Everyone around here seems to be having a good day.  Including my daughter.  Who is, so far, very much enjoying high school.  Yaaay!!!  Sometimes it seems like there is very little she enjoys, especially me but today?  She is enjoying life.  Which makes me enjoy it too.

Enjoying things does not help with the blogging though.  I am always less inspired when happy. Angry, sad or hurt and I am on fire.  Content?  Big fucking blank.

Tomorrow kicks off high school football season.  I am looking forward to this.  My son has really found his niche with football and as he is otherwise motivated to do little but play XBox and spend money, this pleases me.  And he is good at it!  And I like to cheer.  A lot.  Loudly.  And they can bite me if they don't like it.  He generally doesn't complain though....it's most Justine who wishes I was a little less enthusiastic.

Then after football, where I'm sure the Tornadoes will be victorious, it's off to my Grandma's 80th Birthday Party.  This Grandma is not the Grandma of the broken back hair washings and Bible Camp.  That Grandma can be found over here.  This Grandma is my German Catholic Grandma who never understood why I didn't like sauerkraut.  I still don't.  Nor do I care for cabbage rolls or kohlrabi.  This Grandma is full of all sorts of wonderful sayings and used to have a penchant for dozing off after supper only to wake herself up yelling at my aunt to do the laundry or something.  

This is a Grandma who worked very hard her whole life.  Who was widowed thirty years ago with a five year old, a seven year old and a 12 year old to care for.  She was not a warm fuzzy crafty grandma.  She was running her cafe and parenting.  Buying things in bulk and cooking everything with lard.  This is also the Grandma who fully accepted a grandchild that was not actually hers.  Not in a DNA sort of way.  I think we've covered this before but I am the 'love child' of my mother and a man from El Salvador.  I am kind of brown.  Unlike anyone else in my family.  And definitely unlike these people of German descent to whom which I then and now belong to.

I didn't quite know what to think of my Grandma when I was little.  I liked going to church with her.  I liked the ritual of the Catholic church before I knew about the hypocrisy surrounding it (and in my humble opinion, most religion).  I liked her cookies. 

It always comes back to cookies where I am involved.

And alcohol. Speaking of which, I have saved some wine from a little gathering I had last week and am now going to partake of.  After I go to Wal-Mart.

Um, I may have gotten off track.

What I think of my Grandma now comes from respect, love and understanding.  I don't know that any of her life has been tremendously easy and I know at times it has been unbearably hard.  She is strong and I am proud to call her my Grandma and DNA be damned.

Happy Birthday Grandma. 

TOO MUCH SNOW*.

*I'm sorry I couldn't resist.  She once left a message on our answering machine for my brother on his birthday and besides wishing him a Happy Birthday she said maybe she'd see him at his dad's on the weekend. Then said: "I won't be there though, too much snow".  This is the essence of Dorothy...God love her.