Giving up might be the best thing

If you give up and surrender then change can come into your life. I have to give up all of my beliefs, all of my concepts, and start over. Re-learn the world. Like a toddler, I will simply stumble around in a gleeful blissful state of not knowing anything. Because everything I have learned, everything I have believed in, everything I thought I knew has been wrong.  I believed I had a chance of  an increase in my hours at work. I believed that I might be making more money and be able to improve my living situation, I believed that things couldn’t get worse, I believed that I had a chance.  Well I’m not getting more hours at work, I’m not going to be making more money. In fact, I’ve even had an hour cut from my schedule. It’s just an hour, but still.  I believed that I could pull myself out of this hole of depression and madness. I believed that I was funny and attractive. I believed that I could carry off faking it a little longer.

It’s all off the table. I’m going to surrender. And I think surrendering to some form of god is the only thing left for me. I don’t know which form of god. But I have to give myself up to something bigger than myself. Let someone or something else take over for a while. Cleanse my mind, my soul, my body. Wipe the slate clean and start over. What am I talking about? I don’t know . I’m on the reference desk and slightly sedated with the help of some valium in order to make it through the day without a constant stream of tears running down my face. Crying is cleansing but it also wrecks your makeup and makes you look like a crazy person on the reference desk.  I bought some Lotto tickets.  I’m taking my dog to the rescue people next week. I’m going to have my paycheck garnished by several creditors. But in the end it’s only money. My daughter has relatives who can care for her if I cannot. We’ll just wait and see what happens.  I like valium.

 

Yuckin It Up at the Library

Actually, there is no God. Otherwise I would not be suffering this day at the library, the horror, the sorrow and the pity. Things did not start out well to begin with. After continuously hitting the snooze button on my alarm, I was awakened at 10 a.m. by a phone call from a co-worker asking where the hell I was. I threw my clothes on, made a quick coffee and sped to work, arriving within 30 minutes of the call, but still and hour late. This one will probably earn me an official write-up with the boss man. Sigh.

Upon arrival I realized it was the day for a program which was to be presented by one of the most annoying old geezers I’ve ever met.  To maintain anonymity, I can’t reveal the actual name of the program but it was along the lines of  “yowza… let me show you how funny I am.”. Mr. A  is an 80-something cheeseball who considers himself extremely witty and extremely special. He wants to share his love of laughter (it’s medicinal!!!) and slapstick comedy with the world. In the fucking library. Let’s make this clear up front: NOT funny.

So here comes Mister Show with his boxes full of stuffed animals, assorted gag props and next thing I know, he’s wearing giant orange  plastic duck feet, plopping around the library with his short-ass self, grinning maniacally, holding up a huge pair of jeans, in an effort to drum up an audience. I’m on the phone with a reference question and he’s standing in the library yelling out “did you lose your pants?” I am dying. I want to die. But first I want to pummel the old fart. Patrons are fleeing the building. He continues to circle the library looking for takers. There are none. He struts jauntily back  to the conference room, where he is supposed to be presenting this side-splitting humor.  He commences to sing Old MacDonald complete with neighing, whinnying and all the other animal sounds. He sings loudly. He is alone in the conference room. He’s laughing.  Loudly. At nothing. He comes back into the library, giant duck feet slapping the floor, with a stuffed lamb on his shoulder, waving at the few remaining patrons who have not fled but who are desperately trying to ignore him. This spectacle continues  on for about a half an hour. One of my most beloved patrons approaches me at the reference desk and tells me the one thing she learned growing up in New York City: never make eye contact with the crazies.

I’m having an IM conversation with my pal and co-worker Mike, who is safe at home today:

11:49amMartha
here he comes

11:49amMike
flirt

11:49amMartha
he’s got the side door open
and it’s freezing

11:49amMike
WTH – you can’t let him do that

11:49amMartha
he’s rounding the building in his duck feet

i’m not doing anything

i’m staying away from him

11:49amMike
cereal. you’ve got to stop him

11:49amMartha
no.

i can’t deal with him

11:50amMike
Rob will be pissed [note: Rob = manager]

11:50amMartha
i’m telling Rob and Rob is going to kick his ass

11:50amMike
his duck ass

11:50amMartha
I think he’s giving up
no takers
an hour of desperation
is almost up

ahhhhhhhhh… relief. He packs his boxes, takes off the duck feet. It’s over.  The day continues as sunshine fills the library through endless floor to ceiling windows. The Cherry Blossoms are in bloom. I hear the flutter of hummingbird wings.

 

MIA

Sometimes I can only communicate with certain persons via my blog because they have otherwise cut me out of their lives. So I send not so veiled messages to them via posts rambling on about the state of my mind. I try not to worry about one such person in particular because obviously said person doesn’t care so much about me to even respond to a simple text, or a quick e-mail. Why should I care if said person is dead or alive or in jail or in the hospital?  Or perhaps just too busy with the latest victim to even come up for air for 5 seconds….  note to self: fuggidaboutit.

This one’s for you dear.

 

Pearls Before Swine

Thanks to H. for reminding me of one of my favorite sayings. Pearls indeed. This after I spend a lot of time writing thoughtful and well composed e-mails to a certain someone who either doesn’t respond at all or responds with one word. One unimpressive and non-committal word. So yes, we must remember not to cast our pearls before swine ladies and gents.

Now, on to other pressing matters. As you know, I am habitually late. To everything. However, I have been doing a lot better with getting to work on time since returning to Mayberry RFD. Today I was 5 minutes late and got an e-mail immediately from THE MAN, who was standing in front of me. Words? Can we not use words? I was just starting to like the dude a little.  I have plenty of perplexing people in my life already. I don’t need another one. But some things are out of our control. I feel like telling him he’s lucky I’m here at all considering my menopausal, asthmatic and brain dead  ass is barely functioning today.  Pearls before swine.