And that's a wrap for week 2. Well, almost in Dancing on a Blade (September 2019)

So, school is ending up its second week. I have found and landed a Tiny Job (notetaking) and I am proud of myself. I didn’t think I’d get it. I didn’t get the Forensic Mitigation one, after all. It won’t be much pay at ALL but it will probably be about $13 an hour and maybe four hours a week, and folks, that is gas for the car. Well, and snacks. You can’t go wrong with something that pays for gas and snacks, usually. I hope?

We have to create a WordPress portfolio and I just know my shitty little novels shouldn’t go on it, but I want them to. I love my dumb novels.

I love when I can write at all.

I set up therapy appointments, dentist, doctor -saw her today, for the migraine. Now I’m on Imitrex, but you only take that when the headache comes, so it’s not a big change. Unless there are more headaches right away. I usually get a few weeks to a month between them, because surprise, they’re usually stress induced or cycle induced, and cycle is ending up now.

I only have a few things to download and read for this upcoming week. Mostly I need to concentrate on that site and getting all the books in.

Creative writing (Eng329) is canceled tonight. Dr. “Are you with me on that?” is at some conference. Speaking of conferences, I wrote a paper for one, and I need to polish it up, grind it down, rebuild it, and send it in to be found lacking. Who wants to hear how advocating for your disabled kid helped you find your voice, anyway? This is English. It likes it in an ivory tower. But I’ll still put my neck out.

One more Spanish class til the weekend. And I need the breather. I have to develop my Ventura Highway story (based on Dad’s death) and I want to move ahead in Smutfic, since it has a plot and it’s mildly captivating. Technically they were supposed to bang and be done, but they’re making it take aaages and well, I like to finish what they start. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Or don’t. I haven’t had a bit of interest in sex in a couple of weeks now: I figure it’s the hormones. They rage, I yell about never getting laid, they die back, I bleed buckets, I don’t give a shit that there are penises in the general vicinity. (Or maybe I’ve gone full on the other way and I’m looking at the wrong people? It doesn’t help that I view all these cute young things as practically my kids, and you don’t have fantasies about your kids. At least, I don’t.)

The pornographic fae have stalled out. Maybe that’s for the best.

I need to work out my calendar for the rest of the month and October: there’s stuff I have to do for honor society and for ENG300 (and sometimes also ENG329, which means I must ask both professors about double-dipping on the “reflections” afterwards.) (Why write two when I can write one??)

I’m staring out the glass doors here and wishing I lived on campus. All these kids are just ambling around, greeting one another, and I feel like I got the pissed off Walmart greeter experience - “get your shit and get out.” Sorry I had a baby at that age…but not sorry, because my kid is blooming fantastic and I adore her. Just, I also wanted this. Now it’s awkward. I feel like I only get it now because I wasn’t useful as a stay at home mom anymore. Now he wants that job, (but he does not want to do that work, lol) and so I can go out and support him.

But I don’t want to support him. I guess, if he got completely off his ass, set goals, started pushing for them, and made a point of making me feel included, wanted, and special, he could probably win me back. I’ll even give him points for a few things, like the so-long-without-driving, even though I really resent that. Actually, there is a massive spreadsheet balance in the negatives between us, and I don’t want to kiss and make up. I kind of want blood.

Maybe his mental spreadsheet has negative balances, too, but…I don’t care.

I don’t want to make up the differences. I do not want to bend. I do not flex. I am not meeting you halfway. I. Am....I am angry. And some other shit.

I don’t think I ever asked him for a lot. I wanted him to get settled in his job, he did. I tried out for jobs, but then I got pregnant. Then we decided I should stay at home, then Kyrie died. Adia was right after. Then she was broken, but it’s okay, still good, then the twins, then the miscarriages, and he finally got a goddamn vasectomy (he promised before the twins were born, he didn’t get it til they were 8.) And all I wanted then was support, and maybe a date or two, some time to feel special. I was even having sex with him when I didn’t particularly want to (some cockamamie advice to “keep the flame alive”) but he gave me the mother of all yeast infections (he wasn’t controlling his blood sugar.) After that, fuck you if you think I’d fuck him again. That hurt.

And it took forever for him to take me seriously about it and take me to the doctor. Three or four months.

So that’s…just a place he wasn’t sufficient. Just one. And there are lots of places like that. A couple nights ago (Tuesday) while I was in class, he made the kids chili dogs for dinner (which is fine every once in a while.) And then I got home, and he made a big show of presenting me with a chili dog. Wonderful! He’s realized I wait to have dinner! This is great!

It was cold. Stone cold. The microwave is right on the dining room table (where he left the chili and hot dogs.)

How is it hard to nuke the combination after you make it? I would have reheated it for him. Actually, I would have made a plate and kept it warm in the oven, because I’d be expecting him at about 8:15, and that’s if I felt lazy. Otherwise, I would have made him fresh.

That’s the kind of inconsideration I hate. Yes, food, food is great, but…I don’t want a cold chili dog. I just don’t. Am I asking too much if I wanted it microwaved for a whole 45 seconds??

Am I asking too much if I want to have the remote when we sit down to watch a movie that he will invariably pick (and he only likes horror?)

Where’s the line? How much can I have without asking for too much? Because I want that tv remote someday. There’s like 50 genres of movies I wanted to see sometime.

sigh I shouldn’t feel like an asshole just for asking for shit, but I do. And I also feel like I shouldn’t have to ask. I think most people have a system where they share, but not us.

Another strike. One more big one and it’s an out…in baseball.