let there be tears…

March 10th, 2008 by sfheather

Now that I’ve made the decision to leave my job for greener pastures, I decided to take my first REAL day off in 3 months.  I didn’t call and check in, I didn’t respond to any emails, I didn’t do any work at home.  I am going to pay for it dearly tomorrow (the problems don’t take care of themselves, they just pile up in my inbox) but a funny thing happened while I was ignoring my employment….

I shed tons of tears.

Not bad tears, well at least not most of them.  My man and I barely got out of our pajamas, and spent the day surfing the net together.  We watched a 20 minute informational video (narrated by Ben Stiller’s mom!) about sexual impulses in demented elderly people…and I cried.  We watched insane videos sent from American soldiers in Iraq of  a suicide bombing…and I cried.  We watched the postsecret video…boo hooo again.  We watched a training video from the Federal Bureau of Prisons on how to conduct a thourough pat search, followed closely by a "Sex Education for Trainables" (trainables are developmentally disabled people, they weren’t terribly PC in the early sixties) and these made me laugh so hard that once again…I cried.

I saw the first Bald Eagle of my life circling over us as we stood in a Mexican restaurant’s parking lot with his family…and recounting it later…I cried. 

I cried when we crawled back in bed to cuddle after coffee, because I was just that happy.

I did not cry watching Dexter, though I probably could have if I’d given it more thought. 

I guess I’ve been holding back tears for awhile….not feeling anything but the stress of work…and yesterday I let it go, and I don’t know why I ever held them back.  I’ve been shortchanging myself…not allowing myself to feel, to experience…and having my sensitive sensibilities back in my life feels like I’ve just opened the door to an old friend.

Links to a couple of the videos that made me weep….

hugs

senior sex

secrets

water balloons

my old buddy matt

…and if you feel like laughing your ass off

m.d.

the response to M.d… b.a.

less than ironic

February 28th, 2008 by sfheather

If it weren’t so sad it would be funny.  I’m looking for another job.  Again.  I think I’m setting a new record.  I’m doing it a little differently this time…I haven’t left the old one yet.  My weeks have turned into 80 hour marathons, and I’m just not into that.  I don’t sleep.  I throw up.  My first thought every morning is "let’s just get this over with" and that’s no way to live.  I have been there 90 days, and I knew it would be tough at first….getting things under control, setting goals, coming up with a system…but I had hoped that it would calm down…and it is clear now that it never will.  The expectations of me are out of league with what I can provide, and it will be best for everybody if I just move on.  I should have heeded the warning signs…3 general managers in six months…but I’m bullheaded like that.  I keep thinking I’m different…but in reality I’m no better than anybody else. 

I was afraid to quit.  I have admittedly fled jobs that weren’t all that bad…and I was afraid that I was just doing it again.  This time is actually different.  I have actually surprised people who have been doing this for much longer than I have by lasting the whole 90 days.  I am still searching for the lesson in this.

Its scary as hell, though.  I got the first job I applied for in Tallahassee, and I haven’t really started looking in earnest yet.  My weeks are still 80 hours long…so I don’t know when I’ll get the chance.  My income is supporting us.  Frightening.

I keep ending up back here.  At this spot.  The spot where I have to force myself to do what makes me happy.  You would think that I would have learned by now, right?  Its tiresome, me saying the same thing, over and over again.  Life is patient that way.  It keeps dumping you in the same spot until you figure out the right way to handle it. 

Maybe this time I will…

justice

February 2nd, 2008 by sfheather

There is something wrong with our justice system. 

I am outraged that it is so easy for somebody to make their life’s work victimizing people and manipulating a judicial system for their own personal benefit.  I don’t understand why finding loopholes and lying isn’t a crime.

A marginally intelligent, mentally ill, manipulative, lazy liar is making life difficult for me and the man I love.  She has never held a job for any period of time.  She has made her living by manipulating the courts and concocting crazy stories to sue her employers, boyfriends, landlords and anybody else that dares not just give her what she wants.  She has threatened to kidnap people’s children, lived in basements without the knowledge of the home owner’s, brought false disability claims on nearly every employer she has had, and now she is going after us.

She is a drug addict (prescription only, of course) and an alcoholic.  Her own sister won’t allow her near her children.  She has a long history of mental illness, and her lies are well documented.  She is accustomed to getting what she wants.

At first, she doesn’t seem particularly threatening.  She’s skinny, soft spoken, articulate.  Her crazy stories (she went to Vassar, she went to Princeton, she was the first person to get West Nile Virus, she has been a surrogate mother for millions of dollars, she worked for Price Waterhouse Cooper, she was the personal assistant to Ronald Reagan) seemed like she was just trying to get attention.  She could be gently dismissed, as you would a child whose show and tell stories were a bit fantastical.  She seemed fragile, and she seemed to need protecting.

What she really is doesn’t become apparent until you cross her.  Then the calculated, greedy, vicious liar that she is attacks you.  She will stop at nothing to get what she wants.  She won’t give up, and will see her story through to the end.

She knew that she found a good victim.  He is kind hearted, patient, trusting and was more than a little preoccupied with drugs.  He comes from a wealthy family, and had nice things.  She knew that she could have it all, and he wouldn’t deny her a thing.  She never counted on him leaving her….

She had to formulate a plan fairly quickly.  It took about 3 days.  It was no accident that she had him arrested on the last day that they had a place to stay.  He was leaving…and she couldn’t let him get away with her being broke.  All she needed to say was that he hit her.  That’s it.  Those are the only words the system needed to hear.  He was guilty.  Now thousands of dollars later, he’s still trying to prove his innocence. 

What happened to innocent until proven guilty?   Why hasn’t anybody questioned her past?  Her lies?  Her well documented false allegations and craziness?  Why are we going through this a year later? 

She found the magic key.  Domestic Violence.  Nobody wants to question a victim.  If she says she was hit…that’s all that matters.  Now she can reap the rewards.  Permanent disability checks.  Victim’s compensation funds.  Civil suits.  All the attention a crazy leech can get.  She’s milking it dry.

Who does she hurt?  Me.  You.  Everybody.  Most importantly she is hurting the woman whose jaw was broken, whose clavicle was shattered, who can’t see or hear because of repeated blows to the head.  Those women who need safe houses, who change their identity because their attacker was let out of an overcrowded prison, who wants nothing more than to control their every move, to find them again…and kill them. 

Kim Kelly is weakening their safety.  A safety net was built for them, by those of us that want to see them protected, and she is greedily taking what belongs to them, without any regard for their safety.  She is selfish, and doesn’t care who she hurts on the way….as long as she never has to work again.  She wants the taxpayers to pay for her pain medication that she eats by the wee fistful, and wants to cash in her foodstamps for marijuana.  She needs a sugar daddy to house her, buy her clothes (or she can just wear his ex girlfriends…if the shoe fits, right?) and make late night runs to the store for laxatives to keep her bulimia in check. 

She has hit a goldmine.  This is so much better than the false sexual harassment claims at Enrico’s, or the disability claim she tried to wrangle (for Kidney Stones? please.) out of the same place.  She even considered suing a landlord at a place she was squatting at?  She is a parasite…and now there’s nothing we can do.

She wouldn’t have shown back up if there wasn’t something in it for her monetarily.  That she has the guts to stand up in front of people who tried to help her, and lie through her teeth, makes me sick to my stomach.  She has a sympathetic ear in the D.A’s office, who has made the mistake of not listening in the past and  terrorized women died because of it.  They can’t afford to not believe her.  What if? 

Since when did our justice system depend on "what if?"  Are we going to now imprison people that just might have committed a crime?  If that’s the case, why wouldn’t I just pick somebody I have an issue with, and finger them for every unsolved murder in San Francisco County?  If I said so, it must be true, right?  I am, after all, an articulate white woman, and if Kim Kelly is to be believed, so am I. 

Why is she not being investigated?  Why is she being allowed to bully the system into doing her bidding?  WHY?

What has she done in the last year?   Has she made a new life for herself with all the money the government gave her?  Has she stopped doing drugs?  Has she stopped lying?  Has she?  Can she?  SHE should be prosecuted. 

Instead he is being asked to "take the deal" because a jury trial would be far too expensive.  If he takes the deal, she wins.  She wins all the money coming to her.  Her lies are justified.  She can buy more speed and weed with the cash she’ll get, and when it runs out she’ll find somebody else to screw over.

The D.A’s office promised me that they would "get to the bottom of this."  I was still naive enough to believe that meant "get the truth."  I was terribly, terribly mistaken.  This isn’t about truth, and it never was.  If it was about truth, we wouldn’t have come this far.  This is about politics.  This is about lawyers.  This isn’t about a lying, litigious, welfare milker who is trying to bilk her ex boyfriend out of money.  This is about appearances.

For all my outrage I am glad for one thing…because of this a good friend has become the love of my life.  In him I have found the most courageous, intelligent, kind and patient person I have ever met.  Because of this he has turned a page in his life, and we are healthy and happy.  This parasite is the last bit of the old unhealthy life that remains, and when she is finally out of our lives…all will be new again.

more questions of home

January 24th, 2008 by sfheather

I don’t know why it took so long to happen, but I’m homesick.  I do not regret moving to Tallahassee, and I’m quite happy with the way my life is shaping up…but the little things that I grew accustomed to after 15 years are glaringly absent from my new life.  There’s fog here, but its warm…and that’s just the beginning.

I miss understanding people when they speak.  The accent here can be pretty ‘durn thick…and I hate asking people to repeat themselves when they sound like Boomhauer.  I miss short conversations.  Southerners aren’t stupid…but they like to drag a conversation out all damn day long, and pepper their talk with "Miss Heather" this and "Ma’am" that.  Its disconcerting.

I miss pissed off people on the road.  People drive like they talk, which might be safer, but makes me feel like an asshole when I weave in and out of their leisurely drives.

I miss the food.  Southern cooking is awesome, but what’s a gal gotta do to get a decent burrito or crepe?  I haven’t had a tiramisu pass these lips in over 4 months. 

I miss the wine.  Gallo is not a nice wine.  Nor is Smoking Loon.  Good wine can be found here, but it is twice the price.  I’d better take a liking to Crown Royal right quick.

I miss jazz.

I miss poetry.

I miss mountains.  There are no real hills here.  What passes for a hill is a mound. 

I miss my friends.  Most of the people I associate with are either employees or salesmen.  I miss being able to go to a bar and being able to hang out with people I haven’t seen in awhile.

I miss my mom.

I miss little tiny cockroaches.  I have not been able to eat a thing in my house for two days, because my kitchen now belongs to the biggest bug I have ever seen in my life.  At 3:30 in the morning I got out of bed for a glass of water, and on my counter was the largest fucking cockroach I have ever seen in my life.  It had a face.  It was unafraid.  I didn’t have a shoe big enough to kill it…and I have really big feet.  It made me want to move.  I screamed like a little girl.  It crawled under the refrigerator, not because I scared it….but because I irritated it.  I know it will be back.

I miss living in a tourist destination.  Nobody comes to Tallahassee on purpose for a vacation.  Ever.

I miss old people.  I don’t know what they do with them in this town…but they’re missing.  I’m afraid that I will be deemed too old one day, and be killed.  Even the "old" people that do Tai Chi around the lake in the morning probably aren’t old enough to get a senior discount at Denny’s.

sigh.

I guess that’s what you get when you move.

homeless no more

January 9th, 2008 by sfheather

2 3 For the past four months, I have had one key.  As I was preparing for this latest adventure, I was forced to pull keys off my key ring one by one and surrender them to their owners.  I couldn’t help but feel the weight of this symbolic gesture.  Without keys, you are nobody.  For awhile, I was down to only my car key, and even that got dicey for awhile. 

As it stands this morning, my key ring is heavy with keys.  Each key symbolizes a responsibility, and I am tickled to have them all.  There are so many new keys that my key ring doesn’t fit in my pocket anymore.  I have keys to 3 homes that I have been welcomed into, keys to a business that I have become responsible for, my car keys (that are no longer threatened) and keys to a home that I have agreed to spend the next year in.

I am finally able to glimpse what a routine life will look like for me in Tallahassee, and while it wasn’t easy getting here…I’m pretty happy that it has arrived.  The obstacles that I have to overcome don’t seem nearly as impossible when I have a living room to lounge around in pantsless.

Life is good.  I’m still madly in love.  I have a house.  I don’t have to beat down a repo man.  My health is not obviously bad.  I have a great job with great bosses.  Tallahassee is the friendliest place I’ve ever lived.  Collard greens are everywhere.  I couldn’t be happier.

Yay.

my new house:4

Wanda

November 13th, 2007 by sfheather

Moms_side_1 Wanda Motacki

My great grandmother  moved to this country when she was 14 from Poland.  She met her husband on the boat, and started working as soon as she landed.  Her first 5 dollars (a whole week’s pay) was precious to her.  She said that it made her felt like a grown woman, and wanted to remember that feeling as long as she lived.  She had her first 5 American dollars set into a necklace, which she treasured.  She had 14 children, 7 of whom lived (all boys) and more Great Grandchildren than anybody could count.  When I saw her last (I was 14) she handed me a small box and made me promise to never show any of my cousins (or aunts or uncles) because she didn’t have enough to give everybody a gift to remember her by.  She gave me her five dollar necklace, and said that I should have it because I had the most guts.  She called me her "ruski" and I knew what I had always suspected….I was her favorite.  It is a necklace that I only wear on special occasions….I’m so afraid to lose it.  It is my entire family history on a chain, and the most precious thing I have ever owned.

Tomarrow I am going to pawn the necklace.  I can’t believe I"m saying that.  I have no other choice.  I have  exhausted all other possibilities, and wish I knew of another way.  I have every intention of buying it back.  I hope my great grandmother forgives me.

I’m trying desperately to stay positive, seriously…but I could have done without today.    Today I found out that I have 11 days until I get paid, and six days total of training before I can make any money.  On the drive home, I was informed that my car insurance had been cancelled, and my bank account has been frozen.  They want to reposess my Rio.  I am trying to hold it together.  Seriously.  I am trying to remain positive.  I knew everything was going to catch up to me eventually.  I just need to start making money.  NOW.  I can really do without the lengthy training.    I only have enough gas to get me to work and back once.  I have no money for cigarettes.  No money for food.  I know money shouldn’t matter so much….but I’m starting to feel like I’m drowning.  I’m scared to death….and I’m being a bitch to the people I love….I know exactly how I got here…and I suppose I made my own bed…I just never knew lying in it would be so uncomfortable.

florida

November 13th, 2007 by sfheather

Tally_and_disney_059 Tally_and_disney_042 Tally_and_disney_057 the kids at Disney

Tally_and_disney_015 Tally_and_disney_012 Tallahassee sunsets

Tally_and_disney_001 my gas gauge.

My short time at Disney has been made worthwhile by the usage of my employee passes, which….for some reason….are not deactivated yet.  The kids (including James, note the third picture above) and I have been twice this week.  I plan on going again on Thursday.  Whoopeeee.

A few years ago, I thought Florida was a hideous, ugly, humid, backwards place.  I also thought the desert was desolate and ugly.  I’m kind of amazed at how easy it has been to find beauty here…though its easier in Tallahassee than it is in Orlando.  I think I might be lowering my standards.  It’s funny how your perception changes.

I’m still broke…but I’m working.  Today will be Day 2 at Tommy B’s.  Restaurants are the same everywhere. The only thing that changesis the music played in the dishroom.  I feel comfortable and at home…and the food doesn’t suck either.  I have already had a discussion with my new coworkers that involved discussing poo in a bathtub, and the kitchen has already started hooking me up with fish.  Honestly, the smell of a commercial kitchen and the squeak of safety shoes on a restaurant floor are two of the most familiar things in the world to me.  I am just eager as all hell to make some money.  I’m going to try to convince them to cut the six day training in half….because I am just that awesome.

Off to work.

h

there’s a tear in my beer.

November 3rd, 2007 by sfheather

Coflag10  So, I can’t afford it, and I don’t deserve it…but I’m getting away for the weekend.  YAY!  In a few minutes I’ll be jumping in Rio and making my way northwest to Tallahassee, where some sweet lovin’ is waitin’ for me.  Doesn’t that sound like a country song?  I am in the south, after all.  :)

round 2

November 1st, 2007 by sfheather

I suckered another place into hiring me.  I start on Tuesday at Tommy Bahamas.  I should be raking in the dough in a couple of weeks.  I’ve ultimately been hired as a bartender, but I will start waiting tables next week.  It is the quickest way for me to make money that I know of that doesn’t involve me secreting packages into orifices or taking off my clothes.  Not really a bad place to work, methinks.  And they have a cafe in the panhandle, too…so I might be able to transfer.  Which is exciting.

I’m getting more hopeful by the minute.  :)  Its going to work out.  Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to get to Tallahassee this weekend.  Tricky, tricky.

bottom of the barrel

October 31st, 2007 by sfheather

                                         Hell

Today I am going to take a bike ride.  In the middle of a tropical storm (Noel).  While I would love to say that it is for health and fitness, it is not my desire to shrink my huge ass that is going to make me peddle.  I will be riding a low rider bicycle (with a fat rear tire, and tall handle bars) nearly 12 miles so that I can buy cigarettes and gas.  Don’t laugh, because it isn’t funny yet.   It will be funny when I am no longer suffering nicotene withdrawl and have made it to my job interviews today  with the gas I need to purchase with the money order my family has sent via Western Union.  I am feeling particularly ghetto right now.  Seriously, don’t laugh.

I’d better fuckin’ get one of these jobs.  The Universe is makin’ me work so hard for it.  Grrrrrr.