Oh my goodness

Yoga yoga yoga.

The Funny Thing

I haven't written much lately because somehow blogger deleted an entire post I had saved in the drafts and I wanted to kill. Oh well whatever, with every loss comes a gain.

I actually love to write about unfortunate events with my self deprecating comedy, or fury in the case of the lawsuit and uncle posts. It's probably a good thing that I can find funny things in these situations after releasing them into writing. But I suppose it's too bad that I haven't written much about the great things. And it's really too bad that friends worry I am suicidal or homicidal or somehow insulted them. I'm not sure if what I should be doing now is posting pictures of a turkey burger I made from scratch or what. I felt like a turkey burger. So I made one. Next week I will make a lentil burger with brown rice. Exciting.

Lately my pot smoking neighbors are stinking up the hallway so much that I wonder if I should say something or just ask them for some. The sound of ambulances passing the window at all hours is nightmarish. And my building manager shared too much of his private life with me and now when I pass him, I see visions of it in my mind. This is exactly why I never wanted to live in large apartment complexes. There are definite benefits which I am learning about, but all these little things make me a little nuts. I like quiet. I like having to deal with only a few people. On the bright side, I never hear the upstairs neighbors, I almost always get laundry done when I need to, and it's easy. I don't worry about safety or maintenance ever. And the dishwasher has changed my life.

I recently found out that I did not get the 3rd job in a row that I really wanted. Of course I am disappointed, but these occurrences have made space for me to take a yoga teacher training program this summer. The funny thing about this is that any financial analyst in their right mind would not advise me to do this now, but there you go. I did it anyway. Somehow I have a feeling that in the long run, this will be a worthwhile investment. I am so done taking advice from anyone I know anyway. I don't want their lives. I still want this one even if it's a little fucked up.

And speaking of these job losses, come on. Were they crazy? Someone was better than me for the job? Impossible. I am awesome. I am a spectacular assistant, tutor, teacher, trainer, admin, etc. What the hell were they thinking not hiring me? I prioritize well at work, I ask for projects when I don't have any, I try to be involved more and assist even in the stupidest shit like carrying equipment or cleaning off some asshole's desk. I'm a riot; even when I am having a bad day I can be funny. And when I can't deal with people, I try not to bother anyone. I am respectful even to those I can't stand, and I am nice to a fault.

The funny thing about my previous experiences and disappointment in them is that I am now certain that I was too nice to everyone. I may not have been the most professional employee until the last two years or so when I finally got it. Over time I became more focused and dedicated and professional. I might not have been the best receptionist or accounts payable person, but I've learned from mistakes. I think. Still, I am sooooooo nice to all the mother fuckers in my life it is ridiculous. And that includes friends, drinking buddies, family, acquaintances, and lovers. I am tooooo nice.

I was harassed nearly every day at a job in Chicago and everyone said that I was lucky to have it. Why? A manager there told me that she received complaints from my co-workers that I was doing too many things at once, and that I shouldn't have been rushing around the office trying to help a customer. I wasn't supposed to rush around the office looking for things. That was what managers do, and I wasn't a manager was I? Did I think I was a manager? Because I wasn't. I wasn't no manager and I shouldn't be thinking I'm better than the ladies who worked there for 20 years. I must have slept with the director of the agency to get the job anyway. I didn't have any talent they needed. Who was I to think I was entitled to a desk?

Yes, I admit to making bad judgement calls and decisions in some cases, but after a lot of speculation I've determined that it's not me, it's them.

It's definitely them. When I get upset or disappointed in a relationship, whether it is personal or professional I immediately think it's all my fault. I did this wrong, I did that wrong, I am the common denominator, I am a total loser, I disappointed the person that got me a job, I disappointed my grandma, I disappointed my friends, etc. Right off the top of my head I can think of 5 people that I am no longer friends with and have agonized over why anyone wouldn't want to be friends with me. I am finished thinking that way. If anyone wants to leave a relationship with me, hallelujah. Either I burned a bridge or they are a dip shit or both. Every ending brings a new beginning.

What kind of moron wouldn't want to be friends with me anyway? How many people do you know that get themselves into the hilarity and hi jinx that I do? Just today I was reminded that I once auditioned for a murder mystery theater for fun. A while ago I was reminded that after listening to the advice of a gay friend, I put an ad up on craigslist requesting the perfect man. This is how he found his husband so surely I would too. Expecting to receive a series of penis pictures, I was pleasantly surprised at how many responses of well wishes I received. "I'm too old for you, but I love what you wrote and I hope you find him."

I posed in the nude for a photographer in Chicago many years ago. We settled on a deal where my head would not be connected to my body in any photo he displayed in a gallery so that the whole me couldn't be seen. It was supposed to be "war like" shots in which all manner of horrors were coming at me. I preferred to pose with classical music on, but he preferred classic rock. Somehow the music choice cheapened the experience for me. I did this twice and never again. Still, he had said that I would be invited to his openings, and I never received the information.

I take it back. I have posed 2 other times for 2 other photographers. One was naked on the beach in Greece and the other was with a friend for a specific project. I was to receive copies of the Greece photos but did not. The other project was just a couple years ago. I drank an entire bottle of wine during the experience and have no idea how my boobs got out, but they did. These photos I own, but have never looked at them.

In high school I kept my weed smoking devices strapped to my bra since my mother was fond of searching my room. I didn't have any place to hide it except on my body and people must have wondered what those lumps were about.

Once I auditioned for a solo piece in a ballet that I really wanted. At the time I was assisting with teaching dance to very little girls, and the bitch Russian instructor thought she should knock me down to size. She had me audition right there in front of all those little girls, when I hadn't really memorized the timing or routine yet. I went into it knowing I was going to fuck up and heard the girls laughing at me throughout, especially when I couldn't hit the grand jete properly.

So you see? People are missing out. I must learn to un-attach myself from embarrassments and disappointments and shit people. Embrace the hilarity and ridiculous and failures. You don't want this in your life? Too bad for you.

WTF

I don't know how this happened but I wrote a ton of shit and it got deleted. What the fuck blogger?

10/ Dream

I dreamed that I set off pop rocks outside of the apartment entrance, which caused a massive fire all over town. I had to get to work to find out what was going on, but we came to a house on fire and went inside. There my grandma and my boss Lisa were inside, totally unaware of the massive fire eating one side of the house. We decided to keep it cool and not tell them so they wouldn't get scared, but we had to get them out of the house. And once we did that they were shocked but I had to go and couldn't comfort them. The fire raged everywhere and I walked away.

9/And Then

My Uncle Jim went to the emergency room for congestive heart failure.

Since Elizabeth Taylor had just died days earlier, I figured this was it.

It was also the very same week that my dad had been rejected from 3 jobs, one of which was with a recruiter for the company that laid him off over a year ago. Assholes. He managed to get a job as an election judge in the suburbs when he got the call that Jim needed to be taken to the hospital. He stayed in the hospital with Jim from 11pm to 7am the next day, which was when he was due at this job. Clearly it wasn't going to happen.

Uncle Jim goes to the free hospital for people that don't have health insurance, or are destitute, or in a bad situation, or just a mess. He is all of the above, and despite his staunch conservative stance on everything, he believes he is entitled to free health care. This particular hospital often runs out of beds or out of space altogether. After my dad got back and had a rest, he called there to find out about Jim, but was told he was still in emergency. Dad freaked out, drove all the way back to find Jim was really just resting in the hallway since there were no available rooms.

I was told that Uncle Jim remained in good spirits but would not divulge the true status of his health to my father, despite being listed as his emergency contact. He seemed to think the whole thing was no big deal. My dad asked nurses to explain what was going on but no one was allowed to give him info. He could speak to a doctor, but they were extremely difficult to pin down even for a moment. The nurses were prepping Jim for a bone marrow test which freaked Dad out even more. What was it for? No one would tell him anything.

I think Dad was in a state of shock about the whole thing. He said he couldn't even recognize his own brother. Jim looked like he was 80 years old, but is only 62. Jim could barely walk from one side of the room to the other. And the biggest shock was that Jim had let his teeth go so bad that he recently had the entire bottom set pulled, and had yet to get dentures.

Not one of us understands how Jim lives his life. He is an isolationist that hasn't worked in over 15 years and is a general mother fucker. He had a heart attack in his early forties, despite his rather lean physique. He smoked something like 2 packs a day until he supposedly quit. After the bypass surgeries he refused to return to work, claiming that he couldn't be expected to function normally. He has an addiction to whiskey and chocolate. He hates everyone except Irish Catholics and is therefore impossible to be around. And he has type 2 diabetes. Fun guy.

Uncle Jim is the person I consider the Chief Asshole of the family. He is rude beyond comprehension, racist to the core, and a woman hater on top of everything. He used to call my mother: "Dumb Dora," to her face and run his finger underneath light fixtures to point out the dust. When I was little he came over to my parent's apartment to watch porn since he was too cheap to by his own VCR. My parents caught him one night when he was still there at 3am and told him never to bring that shit over again. My mother only shared that with me years later because I went through a period where I felt terribly sorry for him, thought he must be quite lonely. That was until he let me drink whiskey at his place before turning 21, and asked for "help" with his resume. His computer was in the basement and the so called resume was in a folder filled with porn pics. I freaked and got the hell out of there, thinking oh my god he's drunk and laughing about this and I was just in his basement what the hell.

I never went to his place again, but he would frequent the Italian restaurant where I worked. I gave him freebies now and then until I got worried that the owners would get mad. I also wanted him to go away after a while because he became demanding and blatantly stared at my female co-workers. I could tell he was making a few of them uncomfortable and had no idea what to do. Eventually I told him that nothing off the menu was going to be free, hoping that would deter him. One night he stayed very late at the restaurant, had too many beers, and slammed his drink down with his voice shaking and choking and yelled at me that no one gave a damn about him. No one cared a bit about him and he was alone in this world. He seemed like he might get violent so I stood up to get him some water. My heart raced and I tried to pretend like I could handle it. When I got home I cried and had to call my parents. Dad went over to Jim's place that night and told him to never come near me again and if Jim harassed me in any way, he would kill him.

About a year later, my cousin Brian was killed in a gruesome car wreck and the person to let me know was Uncle Jim. He called my apartment sobbing and sobbing and I was in such shock I didn't believe it was Jim on the line at all. Was it a joke? Didn't he call my dad first? I must have asked if he was serious about a hundred times until he screamed why are you asking me that? I told him not to leave the house and especially not to get into the car, assuming he drank. Then I had to break the news to my parents. Unfortunately I got Mom on the phone first who just started screaming and then I had to tell Dad the whole thing all over again. The weirdest thing about that call was that I had to say: "You know Brian? Brian my cousin/your nephew?" since our family barely speaks at all.

After the funeral in Tuscon I rekindled that "I feel bad/guilty about Jim" feeling. He didn't have anyone to grieve with or fly over there with or have lunch with or share a pint with or anything. It's awful. I don't think he attends a church or has any social life whatsoever. Christmases go by, New Years Eve goes by, and his birthday goes by without even a phone call. Yes, he has another brother but he is Chief Asshole # 2 so I don't think they have much of a relationship either. I started sending Jim Christmas gifts since then. He hasn't ever thanked me but maybe that is because he no longer has my number. I'm ok with that.

I don't know how society makes men like him but I assume it has something to do with religion or general awkwardness socially, which was encouraged by family not fought against. I often thought that my grandmother must have poisoned him with ideas of her oldest son resembling John Wayne in The Quiet Man. My dad told me that Jim's best friend and basketball buddy in high school was Jewish, until my grandmother meddled telling him how awful the Jews are. When I was around 9 years old, I remember Jim asking me what I thought the blacks ever did for this country. I couldn't understand the question at all so I asked my mom why he said that. She explained that my grandmother had very serious prejudices against everyone, so that is how Jim learned to hate as well. She told me never to listen to that kind of garbage and I wasn't allowed around him unsupervised after that. I don't know how on earth a person with those kinds of beliefs gets to live long enough to be treated for congestive heart failure.

As for the awkwardness around women, who will ever know. I've encountered men that I'll never understand how on earth they came to think and behave the way they do. Did something go terribly wrong in their childhood? Did no one ever explain that women are equals? Or that it's ok to get rejected sometimes? I feel awful that Jim is so alone, and sometimes think it isn't all his fault that he is completely fucked up.

Then again, when my dad is sitting in the hospital with Jim who doesn't give a damn and carries expectations of assistance, I have other feelings. Whenever Dad said something very reasonable to Jim like: "You should probably give me a key to your place so that I can check in on you," Jim ignored him, pretending the sentence never happened. You've got to think, FUCK THAT GUY and I did. Instead of concerning myself with Jim's health I only was concerned with the stress of it all on my dad. I felt that if this is it, so be it. Let's let him go.

I imagined what it would have been like if he passed on. How would we deal with the family? Would we be in charge of everything? Does he even have a will? Dad didn't know. Would I go crazy and punch my uncle Tony in the face? Would I tell him what a piece of shit he is?

Jim ended up being released from the hospital a week later and I found myself filled with rage and fury. How dare he put my dad in this situation and not give a shit??? Who wants to take care of a mother fucker that allowed his health to deteriorate to that extent?? I DON'T. I told my mom that she better not go over to his apartment with food. It's his fucking problem. She agreed and said that he will have to get himself a maid or caretaker. (what a lucky person that will be) He is not our problem unless we get another hospital call.

I talked to my grandmother about my feelings and her advice was to call him. What? But he's so mean. I can't. She said something so beautiful I could barely stand it:

Vhen person is very very hard, zhen you be the softehr.

I told her I'd think about it.

But I haven't called and I doubt that I will. Sometimes the softer and nicer you are, the more you become a doormat. I don't know how many more times I can deal with his attitude. The last time I saw him was at my dad's 60th get together and he asked if I was getting fat, which is his standard greeting. My uncle on my mom's side didn't put up with that shit and asked if Jim was getting sickly thin. It didn't go over well.

It's weird when you decide you're ok with someone leaving this world. It will happen eventually and surely it will happen sooner with a person in this condition. Dad said that maybe Jim will outlive us all and I told him to bite his tongue. I also asked if he was certain that they are really brothers. Could one of them have been switched a birth? He laughed but it was obvious that he felt pain. He said that we'll end up finding out from the neighbors if Jim has passed on, and I could tell he has an extreme fear about it. There isn't anything we can do about the way he chooses to live his life.

I've read many articles about how forgiveness is key in these situations. I don't want to dwell or linger on the negatives. My dad always says that the hardest thing to do in this life is accept people the way they are. I just wish all of this was easier on him. TV and movies always have stories about forgiveness and compassion. You end up taking care of the person who has wronged you and become a better person for it. I don't think I could take care of Jim. He has made his choices. I wish him to have less discomfort and to find a way to like himself more. Surely the only reason people self destruct is because they hate themselves.

8/The Shmuck Who Sued Me

4 days later, I had to take part in a two hour arbitration over the phone.

What I've learned from this whole episode is that that our legal system and many of the related jobs involved exist because of what I like to call The Ring of Bullshit. Example: an event occurs, police are called, witnesses give statements, police write up a report, insurance companies examine, insurance companies give estimates, they pay each other whatever they come up with, they allot money for people to get to the doctor, and then we're done....until...

I assume that The Shmuck who sued me defaulted on his mortgage or didn't have health insurance to cover some problems. How could he make some extra money? Well, he did get into that fender bender with Aviva O'Byrne. Maybe if he filed a suit in the last hour of the last day before the statute of limitations was up, he could disrupt my life just enough to make a few thousand.

Only, he didn't ask for a few thousand. He asked for 46 thousand. This fender bender apparently caused him to need a gall bladder surgery.

The events were these: We were stopped at a red light, I was about 4 cars away from the front of the line. The first car in line started to go, but then abruptly stopped, so we all stopped. When we all started to go again, the first car changed his mind again and took a left turn from our middle lane, rather than than the actual turning lane next to us. So, the second car slammed on his brakes which caused the car in front of me to crash into him and since I couldn't see what was going on, I was unable to stop until I saw his car shake and the heard the noise of the crash. Of course I couldn't stop in time and I bumped him.

Police were called, we were all able to get back into our cars and pull into a strip mall parking lot, we all talked. The guy in front of me admitted to the police that he hit the other car before I hit him. We were both issues warnings; not tickets due to the circumstances. I felt that the guy in front of me wanted to intimidate me further. He kept asking me questions about my little Corolla and stated that it was clearly totaled. I said it didn't look that bad to me, but he insisted that due to the age, they were just going to trash my car and offer me the difference. I hoped and prayed that he was wrong but admit that his demeanor made me extremely nervous. I said that I didn't think it was that big of an accident. He said that I hit him pretty hard but not to worry, he won't sue. The guy was being totally inappropriate so I decided to walk away from him and deal only with the police. No ambulance was called, and we all drove away.

The insurance companies took care of everything within a week, and my healthy little Corolla still works to this day. I love that car.

However, since The Shmuck needed to support his lawsuit, he changed the events to suit him, hence the Ring of Bullshit commences. The lawyer took his case on a contingency. My lawyer did not believe that he was going to be able to get away with the gall bladder stuff, but expected us to have to pay him something because of the fact that I did hit him. He bothered to go through with this, therefore he gets money. As if we didn't need more evidence that people are assholes. She expected the case to go to trial since they were unwilling to accept the offers our side gave, but his lawyer must have advised him not to push it. She figured they'd have better luck with an arbitration.

Police reports are not admitted as evidence due to not being done under oath, and the police officer not needing a witness to his own report. The only evidence the lawyers have to go on are the pictures the insurance company took and our statements. Since I gave my deposition 3 years after the accident, I wasn't confident that I made myself clear. My lawyer told me that his claim of the events were that I hit him so hard his enormous minivan was throttled into the car in front of him, despite the bumper to bumper traffic on the road. He had said that the front end of my car was completely underneath his, and that I had totaled his car. He just wasn't willing to give up his car until 2 years later. WHAT? How can he possibly get away with such accusations? No ambulance was called, everyone walked away! His car was totaled 2 years later but it was still my fault? I remember some lights being broken and a little fender damage on his car and that was it.

I asked my lawyer how we accept legal lying, and she said that his lawyer has to believe he is telling the truth. It seemed to me that people in this line of work must know about the lying and coach their client, and they know it's wrong. They want to keep this cycle going so several people have jobs, all based on bullshit. My lawyer was never able to get in touch with the man in the first car that was hit, so we didn't have much to go on. They eventually dropped the gall bladder issue, but kept the money claim high due to lengthy chiropractor visits. I just didn't believe that he was hurt at all, or that he deserved any money. I kept asking why it didn't matter that he never made a medical claim until the very very last minute and just went straight to a lawsuit??? She said it totally didn't matter and he was within his rights, no matter how ridiculous the claim.

She felt the judge would have to be a total idiot to award him a great sum of money. She found out that his chiropractor was not board certified and he had been seeing her for years prior to the accident. He used to be a contractor...hello?...so he probably was injured on the job quite a lot and the chiropractic visits couldn't have all been related to the accident.

I could have attended court, and I intended to just so the judge would see with his own eyes who the more credible witness was. But, after all the flying and running around I had done in March, I requested that we do it over the phone. I also worried that should I see him, I would surely murder him right there with the power of my thoughts.

The arbitration lasted 2 hours and was officially 5 years after the accident. I had to listen to this asshole and his fantasy story. He said that after the accident he grabbed his yarmulke before exiting his vehicle and I nearly busted out laughing. This guy that I saw in jeans and a Cubs hat all of a sudden found religion in time for court? Thank you Skokie. He said that due to being unemployed for a long period of time.. (hello!)...he recently took on a job as a Shomerim, which are the people who sit with the dead and sing them songs and keep the body company before a funeral. He explained the significance to the judge and five minutes into this whole thing, I realized I would have strangled him right then. What a fucking asshole. Is lying a lesser offense when you're doing it in the name of religion? Is it more legal to lie when you've convinced everyone that you are religious?

He went on with his preposterous story and even claimed that when I got out of the car I was so distraught, that I said, "I can't believe I did this again!" A total fabrication, especially since I had never been in an accident like this. When it was my turn the judge actually asked me if I said that and I was insulted that he would even think it's a worthy question. I wanted to yell out He's Lying! He KNOWS he hit the other car first! I held it in and did as good of a job as I could. His lawyer questioned me about whether I saw the damages to his car and I said that I had, but it was all very minor. She then asked if I was an expert on car value and of course I said no. What a low blow. I nearly yelled: "and neither are you bitch", but I managed to maintain myself in a calm manner.

What ended up happening was that The Shmuck claimed to have never visited the chiropractor before, but my lawyer submitted proof that he had. His lawyer had never seen that evidence and asked for it to be dismissed. (again the ring of bullshit) The judge allowed it, but it was clear that the chiropractor had fixed the dates and information to support The Shmuck's claim. Nevertheless, the judge felt that some of the injuries were related to the fender bender, and a week later The Shmuck was awarded 19 thousand dollars for lying.

I have to admit extreme stress and disappointment on a moral level throughout that whole week. I couldn't believe how easily lying brings rewards, and it's all legal. I couldn't imagine what woud have happened if it was a real accident with real injuries and scary stuff. What would happen then? My mom said not to even think about it. This is what insurance is for anyway. If they have to pay The Shmuck, they have to pay. 19 thousand is pennies to them. It doesn't reflect poorly on you. She said to take heart in the fact that he will get his. Even my grandma weighed in saying that she hopes for every dollar he won in this case, he gets as many warts on his behind. I didn't know she was capable of such evil thoughts.

So, good luck to The Shmuck out there. Surely he is in for it. And surely all this turmoil will make me appreciate the gigantic success I will be someday so much more.

7/ Next

Seeing as how I merely had a few temp jobs before returning to Chicago for the NU interview, I had absolutely no idea where my next paycheck was coming from after the wedding and I was petrified. I contacted the agency I previously worked with and left a message. Hours later while I was walking around, a recruiter called and said that she had something. It was a customer service job for $14.75 and hour but she couldn't just place me, I'd have to interview.

The interview was set for the next day at noon and the address was emailed to me. I asked her if it was downtown, but she was unfamiliar with the address. After checking directions she said all I'd have to do is get on the 99. Ok, but I don't have a car. Oh don't worry, it's on a bus line. Sure.

Once home I checked the directions and it seemed extremely far away. Too far for a measly temp customer service job. Mapquest and googlemaps had conflicting results as to how far the walk was once I got off the 2nd bus. I expressed my reservations to the recruiter on the phone the next day, but she encouraged me to check it out and then decide.

I left with plenty of time to get there but the 2nd bus ride took much longer than I thought it would. We passed an area of Seattle that I had never been passed before. After a while I wondered if I was still in Seattle at all. The bus driver kindly announced my stop and then asked if I knew where I was going. I said that my directions said to go back where we just turned and then go left. Someone on the bus piped up and said it was impossible. I should go back and to the right.

I followed his advice but I found myself to be the only pedestrian in a completely industrial area. There was no sidewalk with the amount of cars and trucks, it felt like I was on a highway. Once I came to the point where he said to go right, it didn't seem right to me. There was a DO NOT ENTER sign and several construction vehicles parked. I didn't see a building anywhere and I didn't think it was safe for me to be walking around alone in this lot.

Then I thought it was silly of me not to follow googlemaps so I went toward that direction. It brought me to a fence. A fence. Nervousness officially set in. It was windy, yet I was sweaty under the jacket and worried about the state of my appearance before this interview. I had begun to lose confidence about going through with this.

I called the recruiter who sounded concerned and she gave me the receptionist's number at the building. I still had time to get there for the interview but she gave me completely different directions. I had reservations about it the whole way, but followed it anyway. Once I was officially 15 minutes late for the interview and no closer to a building other than Subway, I called again. I told her the intersection I was at, and to my dismay I was at Marginal Way SW, not the Marginal Way S that I needed. She said I had quite a way to go.

So, I listened to her explain for a moment, but interrupted her to thank her and let her know that I was going home. When you lose all confidence for a job interview and also know that you are not going to deal with this commute AND you are late as hell, what is the point?

I called the recruiter back to let her know that I was lost and terribly sorry but I was going to have to pass on this one. She understood. BUT then I kept on talking. Somewhere between the Marginal Way SW and I think she didn't understand where I was.....I lost it. My voice cracked and I started to absolutely weep and I tried to hold it together, but instead said: AND THIS IS BULLSHIT! WHY DID YOU SEND ME HERE? I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I AM. I DON'T HAVE A SMARTPHONE. I AM LOST!

The recruiter kept her cool and sounded genuinely concerned, as maybe she should have known that it wasn't the most commuter friendly area. She asked if she should send me a cab but of course I couldn't afford it. I knew how to get back to the bus stop and it would be fine.

I waited nearly an hour for the bus and after arriving back in familiar areas, I went catatonic for the rest of the day. The experience wasn't worth it. Always go with your gut.

I had no idea what to do next.