Three Things

Has it really been a week since I posted? I've been thinking about writing on this blog all week, but I suppose thinking it doesn't really get the baby bathed does it?

It's been a rough week and I won't pretend otherwise for the sake of keeping my chin up on this blog. I think I reached something akin to my nadir during the past few days. Suddenly everything seemed totally shit. My life seemed pointless and irreparable and I didn't know what to do. The months of not sleeping, of rehashing my former relationship in my head, of fighting and fighting to try and find a decent job, of struggling with money and broken cars and unforeseen expenses, finally got to me and I felt more down than I have in years. I cried every day last week, sometimes about these big things and sometimes because I spilt cat food on the floor or couldn't find anything to wear. I felt rotten. I had panic attacks, dizzy spells, the fits of crying, extreme exhaustion, swings between extreme emotion and extreme apathy, and on top of that, my skin broke out like you wouldn't believe.

Fortunately, I have good friends, friends who took me out and cheered me up last Friday and Saturday. The combination of $5 martinis at the gay bar, game night, and an amazing U2 cover show did show me that perhaps life might occasionally be worth sticking around for, even if those moments seem fleeting.

My weekend was terrible. I napped a lot, picked fights with my parents and anyone else who would listen, thought about getting things done, but didn't, complained about the heat, moped, and dreaded going back to work.

Today though, today seemed better. I set myself three manageable goals: Join the Y, make a doctor's appointment, and buy good, healthy groceries. I did all three. I didn't get home until almost 8pm, and I'm tired, but I feel good that I got something done.

Downtown Blue Ridge, GA

Roosters hanging out downtown, next to the city hall

I wish my garden looked like this!

When I first moved to this country, I thought it was hilarious that chemists or pharmacies were called drugstores. I knew they weren't selling illegal drugs, but that's what it sounded like to me. It's funny because this must have been a mail order sign, or a very typical one for the times, because there is one just like it in Franklin, TN.

Endless Photo Opportunity in My Neck of the Woods

I was jealous of the people on the boat! I wanted to be out on the lake!

The "beach" at Rayon City

Ye Olde Discount Tobacco Shoppe.

Rayon City is right next to Old Hickory Village. It looks like it may have been a cute and viable village at one time. It, like Old Hickory, was built for the DuPont plant workers. The Dupont plant is still here, and still fully functional, but the area has gone downhill, or so I hear, in the past few years. Still, there are glimpses of what the past looked like.

Spring Sunset On Old Hickory Lake

This was a while ago, but it was a lovely spring night on Old Hickory Lake, probably one of the first nights nice enough to take a boat out, and people were taking advantage of it. I nipped out to get something from the store, took my camera with me, and it looked so gorgeous, I had to stop and snap a few shots.

99 Red Balloons

Remember that song? Do you think 99 red balloons could lift my mood tonight? I'd certainly give them a shot. Perhaps a shot would help, no wait, that's a depressant. Prozac?

There's no air in my house, and it's ninety degrees outside at nine at night. There's no air in my car, and that's the least of its problems right now. I'm wondering if the failure of my general mood to lift for the past few days has anything to do with being boiled to death at home and frozen to bits at work? I could do with some consistency, folks.

I'm pretty down in the dumps. I went to a party on Sunday night, grilled for everyone there, tried to stay up and be social, but fell asleep at around eleven.

So, since writing the above, I talked to my friend Miss K. She was the 99 balloons I needed. We're both going through trying to find a way into our chosen career Hell, so it was good to talk to someone who understands how hard it is, and how hard it is to drag yourself into work every day to a job you don't care about. She is looking for a library job and I am looking for a teaching job, so we are not many worlds apart. She too has a Master's in her field, so she's kind of in the same boat as me.

It has occurred to me that I need to post some pictures, just to keep this whole thing a little bit interesting, so I will do that right now!

Crazy is Relative

Tonight, Miss L. and I brainstormed a photo project. I won't go into details, but it is quite an undertaking, involving 78 images that require planning, staging, models and props, and possibly a lot of post-processing. She is really good at that. I suck, and lack the proper resources anyway. I didn't intend to hang out with her all day, but she got out of work early and I had to pick up some pics from her, so we started hanging out, drinking beer and got into planning a project, something I'd been thinking about for a while, but I needed someone else on board with me and she seems game.

Miss B. came over later, agreed to be one of our models, and helped us brainstorm the images. We talked until about midnight and I drove the relatively short distance home. Perhaps I'm getting old, or more sensible, but driving home on a Saturday night is like taking your life into your hands. I stopped at a light to turn onto Briley Parkway, and whilst there, nearly got hit by not one, but two cars. One truck did a noisy and seemingly last minute u-turn right behind me and another car swerved to miss me and went barrelling through a red light. What the hell? It was like that all the way home. I was minding my own business, driving between the lines and below the speed limit, and all around me, the crazies were out to get me. Where were the cops? Oh, they were probably busy racial-profiling on Charlotte Pike or pulling over people for driving while being Mexican. I was just relieved to get back through my front door in one piece. I had been drinking beer, but not a lot, and over a long period of time, and I felt stone cold sober on the way home. If I hadn't, I'm sure the many near-death experiences I encountered would have sobered me right up.

Things I Have to Have in My Car

My car these days is like a baby. I've always been somewhat bemused by people who have a kid, a tiny little human, and then feel compelled to buy an enormous vehicle to cart around the miniature creature; however, they always say the same thing, that you have to cart around so much stuff when you have a baby. There are pushchairs and carseats and bags and toys and, I don't know because I don't have a kid, but I'm sure the list goes on.

Well, my car is a baby. I have to cart around so much stuff in it these days just to keep it on the road. Here's a list:

A gallon of water
An adjustable wrench
WD 40
Spare bulbs
A GPS
A towel

The gallon of water serves to fill up my leaking water tank caused, apparently, by a faulty water pump (hopefully this will get fixed this weekend). The adjustable wrench helps to get the pressurized cap off the water tank because the pressure creates a vacuum when all the water leaks out.

The WD 40 is for the car's post-flood problems. It now gets finicky when it rains, and I can't drive it through puddles. After it rains, I have to spray all the electricals in the the engine with WD 40 so my car won't sputter out and stall. We've had so much rain lately that this has become a common occurrence and I am learning to be prepared.

Spare bulbs: my tail-light bulbs blow out all the time. I keep spare ones on hand at all times.

The GPS: I have no working speedometer, so my GPS serves as a way to tell me how fast I'm going. Actually, driving a manual car makes it easier to guesstimate what speed you're going, but it makes me feel better when I'm followed by a cop if I actually have some idea.

The towel: I have no air conditioning. I keep the windows cracked, especially when I'm at work all day. Sometimes it rains and I don't know, so keeping a towel handy means I don't have to ride home with a wet bottom.

Despite its aging issues, I still love this car. Just had to mention that.