in which our heroine puts that sh*t on everything.

(heh. I've been eating a lot of chicken with Frank's RedHot for dinner lately.)

well, the first round of cookies is done.

this year I decided to make gingerbread cookies and sugar cookies, with some kind of icing and decoration on them.

the gingerbread recipe is a good one, I think, but the cookies did not turn out flavorful enough for me. whether that's from using store-bought spices or the amounts not being enough, I'm not sure. I'm going to try adding another half-measurement of each spice to the dough I make tonight.

also, the directions said to chill the dough for an hour, but it was still a big pain to work with. since I think the consistency ended up just fine in the final product, I'm going to keep the dough in the refrigerator for two hours this time, and maybe work with smaller batches at a time.

the sugar cookie recipe is very basic and I don't think it makes the cookies sweet enough, but with the icing on them, they should be fine. the same chilling time changes will apply to this dough as well.

the cookie cutters are cute, but they were hard to get out of the sticky dough. if the added time in the refrigerator doesn't solve that, maybe I will try a light coating of flour inside the cutters.

and the icing. dear god.

I decided to try royal icing for these cookies since it's supposed to harden well. the usual way to make it (apparently) is cold water, egg whites and confectioner's sugar. initially I was going to make it with meringue powder instead of egg whites (I cannot remember the reasoning behind this decision), but then I discovered that you can't just walk into your average grocery store and buy meringue powder. apparently it is sold at party stores and craft stores and wherever specialty baking stuff is also sold. whatever, I don't have the time or desire to hunt it down, so I went with egg whites.

however, I thought I was so smart when I picked up a carton of egg whites as opposed to separating them from the yolks of actual eggs. I got the carton home and that's when I noticed on the side that due to however it's processed, it's not good to use for meringues, presumably because normal use would require them to be cooked. I looked at the recipe I had and it said that if there were concerns about salmonella, the egg whites could be mixed with a third of the sugar needed and microwave it to 160º before adding the rest of the sugar. so I stood by the microwave with a meat thermometer (I know, wtf! but I don't own one for candy and they both measure temperature, so I figured it was fine enough), heating the mixture for thirty seconds at a time and then seeing if it was hot enough. it looked very much like meringue when I was finished heating it, but I beat it into oblivion with the rest of the sugar.

what I probably should have done is sifted the sugar in and used my mixer to beat the icing, but since I did neither of those things, the sugar was lumpy and the icing ridiculously sticky. it's supposed to harden overnight (...that's what she said...), but I looked at it this morning and it's still sticky.

I divided the icing into small batches and added some food coloring to each (I think this part turned out just fine!). I did sugar cookie wreaths in green, bells in red, and what I think were supposed to be doves in blue (it sounds strange but it looks kinda cool). I put non-colored icing on the sugar cookie candle shapes and shook peppermint-flavored sparkling sugar on top. the other cookies got, respectively, red nonpariels, green nonpariels, and rainbow sprinkles. I couldn't find any of the silver balls that I wanted to use (apparently those shouldn't be eaten, but whatever). by the time I was done with the sugar cookies, I just didn't have the energy to do the gingerbread, so they are still plain.

I don't think the icing was the consistency to be put through the decorator gun, but maybe I can work with that on the next batch, because I really want to use this new toy! I also added a drop of vanilla to the icing, and I think I liked that.

the cookies turned out ugly but tasty. maybe I'll take some pictures when I do this next round today.

(edit: I went to Evil Walmart at lunch and, surprise surprise, found meringue powder! so I'll be trying that tonight, with the vanilla added because supposedly the icing made this way doesn't taste as good. I also got some more sparkling sugar and some gold and silver glazes, plus one of those little offset spatulas to help spread the icing better. I was using the back of a spoon, with less-than-sexy results.)

in which our heroine does not understand the fascination with Manolo Blahniks.

I went and bought my cookie baking-and-decorating paraphernalia this morning and the ingredients at the store on the way home. I plan to be all bakey bakey this weekend! yay!

I feel sort of like today kicked my ass, but I'm not sure why. general sense of doom, I suppose.

I do have things that I want to write about, but I have thus far failed to get into the right frame of mind to put them into the journal. I'm lame, I know. but my wrist (sprained in September, if you'll recall) has been acting up lately and I have been spending less time online and more time having Sex and the City marathons. I desperately need the sixth season (both parts) and the movie. both are wonderful and it's truly tragic that I do not own those DVDs.

anyway. bed now. I hope to sleep late. which reminds me: I'd better go feed the cats so that I have a better chance of that happening.

in which our heroine prepares to get her bake on.

I'm being a total lazy punk ass about the cards so far. I'm sure I'll be bored enough at some point this weekend to crank them out. go to my last post and give me your address if you haven't already.

I'm still feeling yucky, dizzy and all that, but I think it'll get better soon. I've finally got all my pills again after a good week or so without.

it's so damn humid in Atlanta lately, with all this rain. I'm dying in my upstairs apartment, with my hormonal issues that are bad when things are normal and worse when they are not. I put lotion on earlier, and since I'm now sweating, it's not really absorbed so much as made me feel greasy and icky. I'm not going to bother changing the flannel sheets for something cooler, since it's supposed to be back in autumn/winter-ish temperatures again on Monday. so it's just a few more nights of sleeping in very little clothing under no covers and waking up with my hair damp from sweat. fabulous!

on the bright side, I believe I will be making gingerbread and/or sugar cookies to take to my brother's house next weekend. I have this idea that I want to make the cookies look all cute, so I intend to go to Bed Bath & Beyond tomorrow for cookie cutters and a dessert decorator (one of my co-workers is a big fan of the one I linked). I have a coupon for 20% off my entire purchase, so I'm going to use it! I hope to get started baking this weekend sometime.

and now...bed!

in which our heroine says "happy holidays, f*ckers".

this morning on Facebook, one of my friends (a guy I know from high school days, who was a friend of a friend) had the following status message:

<friend> says CHRISTMAS not holiday.

I felt a rant coming, and I posted this comment in reply:

I find it extremely arrogant when people think their way is the only, true way. whether "merry Christmas" or "happy holidays" or simply "have a nice day", why not just say "you too" and appreciate the spirit in which it was intended, rather than getting bent out of shape over something that's, let's face it, a non-issue?

and I really got pissed off about it. this is one more example of some believers (unfortunately the ugly-bile-spewing loud ones) making their entire religion look bad.

you guys know that I am very much an advocate of "believe what you want, but don't push those beliefs on others". insisting that Christmas is the only holiday being celebrated during this time of the year is not only arrogant, it's, of course, factually incorrect. and to insist that your holiday is the only one that should be recognized, when people of faiths OLDER THAN YOURS are not acting similarly assholish, is despicable and embarrassing to the less moronic followers of said religion. you sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting "lalalalala" and refusing to accept these things as facts does not actually make them untrue.

I am not a Christian. I say that I do not celebrate Christmas, I go along with Christmas because it's just less of a hassle in my family to do that. but if someone tells me "merry Christmas", I am polite enough to wish them the same and go on with life. it's similar to being told "have a nice day" by a cashier at the end of a transaction. if you're actually having a crappy day, does it detract from the intended sentiment? no. it's just what you say. one could even argue that saying "happy holidays" or "have a nice day" is completely meaningless (like asking someone "how are you?" when really you're just being polite by asking or filling time on a customer service call or something). I don't see why it's so damn difficult to just say "you too" without getting tangled up in semantics and taking it as a personal attack on your practiced faith.

I see statements like "happy holidays", or the more religious versions, simply as kindness. and really, in the world we're currently living in, shouldn't we accept kindness when and where it is given? shouldn't we just...be more accepting?

in which our heroine posts quickly before bed.

today I received gifts from two of my friends. the gifts were sweet and thoughtful and, in the case of one, delicious, and in another, hilariously awesome.

note to self: do not dose the cardboard scratcher with catnip before bed. the cats will go demented.

in which our heroine answers the question that no one else bothered to answer.

well, I said I'd post about how the poor economy is affecting my life, so here goes.

things are hard for me during the best of times. while I love my job, it doesn't pay all that much. but right now...

I work for a small, local, family-owned company. we've been doing okay, but only just okay. business through the summer was good, it started to dwindle in the fall, and in the past two months it's been very depressing. we'll come in on a Monday to find seventy orders, when normally at this time of year (the last-minute party invitation shoppers, et cetera) we'd have double that and we'd be pushing hard to get out on time. (I remember working a decent amount of overtime last holiday season, completely willingly, since the extra money was so needed.) I came in today to fifteen orders. fifteen orders between 3:30 p.m. yesterday and 7:30 a.m. today. that's terrible. things do slow down some by the end of the week, but normally we'd have at least sixty.

we used to be the top search result on Google for "invitations". maybe we have stopped paying Google for that, but I've noticed that now we're not even on the first page of results. I wonder how much of our business slump is related to that, and how much is just plain old "this economy stinks and not many people have money to blow on unnecessary things".

we're running as lean as we can without (for the most part) sacrificing productivity. the owners let one of the IT guys go and cut all the part-time employees' hours. in my department, when we've run out of our own work to do, we try to help other departments, but some days we just have to leave early. this, of course, affects my paycheck. those early afternoons really do add up to a good chunk of money that I don't see, which just stretches things even more. I've thought about looking for a second job, but there's really nothing out there.

between that and all this stupid fraud stuff I'm dealing with at my bank, I have zero free cash. absolutely none. example: I posted last weekend about having to suddenly pay the power company a bunch of money. that left me with, seriously, fourteen dollars to my name for a week and a half. so far I've used five bucks for gas (and I'm already running on empty again), about six bucks has been used to feed the cats and myself (do you know how hard it is to feed yourself for several days on three dollars? I'm eating pasta for days), and the other three bucks is being reserved probably for Monday morning, so I can stop at a gas station on the way to work...that is, if I can make it to a gas station. I've barely been eating anything at home, because I put off grocery shopping for as long as I could -- I've been eating whatever is available at work. there's always a ton of stuff there, but it's all junk food (for example, I've had brownies for breakfast two days in a row because one of the owners brought them in and I ran out of oatmeal and couldn't replace it).

there have been, so far, two holiday parties given by co-workers that I've been invited to. one was last night, and one was the previous Thursday. when the invitations first got posted, I said I'd go to both. at the time, I had a tiny bit of spending money, enough to buy a couple of small gifts for charity (both hosts were collecting for one of our local charities and I really wanted to give to that) and an ornament for the exchange yesterday. but after all this, I skipped out on both and felt horrible about it. I ended up saying I wasn't feeling well for both nights (which really isn't too far from the truth; the stress is hell on my stomach) because I didn't think it was appropriate to show up empty-handed and I was too embarrassed to admit that I couldn't afford to participate. the first host said she missed me there; the second sent a small bag of gifts home with another co-worker to give to me today. I'm going to send them both something next week if I'm able; I hope to do a little bit of holiday baking if I find that I have the cash to do so.

then today we were told that we are having our office holiday potluck on Tuesday at lunch. the owners are providing the ham and turkey, and we're asked to bring sides and desserts. after wishing these types of things could be planned for a day or two after we get paid, I went into the bathroom and cried because I can't afford to buy or make anything to contribute. I'm going to feel like a freeloader on Tuesday, and I hate that (despite what I said above about eating stuff at work, I don't eat any more than anyone else does). but what are my options? I guess I could go get some cupcakes or something from evil Wal-mart after depositing my paycheck before the potluck, and now that I think of that, maybe I will. but...that's not the point.

the point is that I hate this season and I hate being poor and I hate how it makes me feel: embarrassed and inadequate and like a failure and...just so desperately sad.

so...in conclusion: being poor sucks, being poor this time of year sucks, this economy sucks, and I'm just going to ignore all the emo shit in the last paragraph because I'll feel like drinking myself into a fucking coma if I dwell on it again even for a minute.

(this post was chosen by the Holidailies panel as a "Best of Holidailies" selection. thanks, you guys!)

in which our heroine asks a question of her audience.

how is the crappy economy affecting your life right now?

I will post my own answer tomorrow.

in which our heroine remembers to do her holidailies post right before bed, and doesn't come up with much.

I hate shopping in general, but shopping during this time of year is horrible. Kristen regaled me last night and today with her horror stories of going to Wal-Mart. I pretty much don't go anywhere but the grocery store for the last two months of the year. well, or bookstores. a girl's gotta have books.

last year, I did my gifting season shopping on the way to my father's house. there's a Pier 1 off the highway exit, so I stopped there and bought candles for everyone as well as bags to "wrap" them in.

this year...I've picked something out for both sets of folks at Crate & Barrel, and there's one in a shopping center (not a mall) by work, but I may just decide to bake stuff for everyone instead to save money.

in which our heroine tells the story of the latest drama.

this is what happened between 4:00 p.m. Thursday and 10:00 a.m. Friday, and a little bit after.

after a late end to my workday, I stopped at the store and got a frozen pizza for dinner and picked up my mail on the way in. I got home and found my electricity was out. I knew it was just my power because the place next door had their lights on and the parking lots lights were already on, because it was grey and rainy outside. once I got settled, I opened up the door to my deck, so I could have some light, and I called the power company to find out what was going on. the outage was due to a service interruption, caused by non-payment. I could have sworn I paid it last month, but apparently the payment I was thinking of was from October. the phone rep gave me the amount I'd have to pay to have service restored, and I panicked. it was a number just shy of my current bank balance, so I told the rep I would have to check my account and call back to make the payment. I called the back and confirmed that the amount in my checking account was roughly ten dollars more than the amount due to the power company. I called the power company back and paid the bill, then asked when service would be restored. they told me that, when disconnects are resolved by 3:00 p.m., they are restored the same day, but if it is after that, the service time was within twenty-four hours.

so I was without electricity for the rest of the day, and I could not make the pizza I'd just bought.

while on the phone, I remembered I had a strange letter in the mail. I went and looked at it. it was from the city of Sunnyvale, otherwise known as the town Adam and I lived in when we had the house together. It was a very very very past due bill for a couple hundred dollars for the water/sewer service. I don't know when, or how, the hell I'll pay for that. but, since all the house bills were in my name, it's my credit that it's screwing up.

after I got off the phone with the power company, I noticed that the battery for my cell phone was dying. I was using my cell phone since my home phone works off Vonage. no power, no cable, no phone. I don't own a car charger for my phone.

so, for those keeping track at home, I wouldn't have power until sometime Friday, which means no alarm clock. my cell phone was dying, which means I couldn't use its alarm. both phones being down means I couldn't ask someone to call and wake me up. I even tried my previous cell phone, but its battery was dead too.

I sent my manager a text message saying I had no power and would soon have no phone, so if I was late to work the next day and no one could reach me, that was why. she replied saying okay.

I spent Thursday night reading by candlelight (because I never remember to buy a flashlight) and eating Doritos for dinner.

and...well, normally my internal alarm clock is very good, within five minutes either way of the time I need to get up. but this time, it failed me. once I opened my eyes and saw sun streaming through the blinds, I thought "I don't know what time it is, but this can't be good". the clock in my car, when I got in it fifteen minutes later. let me know that it was 9:15 a.m. I sped to work, and work turned out to be very chaotic. many people were out and we were busy.

I brought up my yahoo email to go through all the messages I could not get to for the previous twenty hours. one of the emails was a balance notification from my bank. I clicked on it, wondering if the leasing office had deposited my rent check yet. the number it showed me was an overdraft of over three hundred dollars. I think I actually did a double-take. I had just deposited my paycheck two days beforehand and hadn't bought anything since; how could I be overdrawn?

well. said bank is the bank that houses the checking account that is connected to the debit card number that was stolen last month. when I last talked to them, the charges had all been credited back and I thought that was the end of it.

apparently not.

I was supposed to hear from the fraud people. I never heard from the fraud people. on Wednesday, unbeknownst to me, as a result of no contact with the fraud people, they started taking BACK the credits they issued for the fraudulent charges. so since that happened, the money for my rent check was no longer there, and that means my rent check bounced.

at this point I was sitting at my desk having a freaking panic attack and wishing that life would stop hurling fiery boulders at me. I rushed to the warehouse with my cell phone (having charged it some at my desk after bringing my home charger in with me, since I still did not have power in the morning) and called the bank's customer service, who sent me to the right place...or so I thought. someone from customer support picked up the call. I explained where I was trying to get to, and she transferred me into phone tree hell. after getting to the right place, my call was disconnected while holding for a rep. and since we were so busy at work, I simply didn't have the time to deal with it. so I did what Morgan does: internalized it and moved on, so I could get through my day.

from the minute I got home Friday, I resolved that I would refuse to deal with it at all for the weekend and would start up again Monday morning. I lost myself in Warcraft the whole weekend because I needed something to occupy my mind and disperse the stress from the previous week. I thought about things only fleetingly throughout the time off, but I didn't get worked up about it (with a brief exception when Adam called Saturday night and I told him the whole story).

I called the fraud department directly this morning (since I had the number at home, I put it into my phone before I left). they said they sent paperwork for me to sign, which I had never received. they faxed it to me at work and I signed it and sent it back. I *hope* this is finally the end of the fraud stuff. after I'm absolutely sure, I'm going to close my bank account. the way they've handled this situation is terrible, and I don't want to keep my money there anymore.

I have not yet talked to the leasing office. I'm freaking out just thinking about it, because I know I'm going to have to pay them an outrageous bounced-check fee, despite this not being my fault. and, since I now have about thirteen bucks to my name, it's not like I can give them the money right now. I know I have to deal with it, but I just can't handle it at the moment.

in which our heroine fumes about some of her past.

holidailies writing prompt: If you could change, undo or modify one decision in your past, which would it be and why?

I can answer this with absolutely no hesitation (and have been known to): unequivocally, the year in Texas. I would excise that horrible mistake from my past like the tumor that it is.

some people think it was the time I spent in California that broke me -- financially, mentally, emotionally, and in spirit. but no. I agree that I did have some hard times in California, a good number of them my own making. but stopping in Austin on the way to Atlanta was a move that cost me so much, did so much damage -- and not just to me, which is the hardest part of all -- that it is the single worst thing that I have ever done.

maybe I wouldn't have ended up any happier if I'd bypassed Austin completely, or any better off moneywise, or any saner. but god help me, I wouldn't have had Michael to regret every day for the rest of my life, and that would make everything -- everything -- better than the way things really went.

in which our heroine avoids writing about the past twenty-four hours.

I must be insane: I am doing Holidailies right after finishing with NaNo. I had to post a couple of funny things before I make the post listing how the past twenty-four hours has made me wonder if I was indeed born under a bad sign.

the first one is from work, and of course it's courtesy of my manager Renée: she was doing an order for a lady's 60th birthday, and it was being hosted by her kids, listed in the wording as "Given by the Foster children" and listing four first names after that. obvious to any thinking person, the kids' last name is Foster. however, Renée took that to mean "oh, how sweet, the woman has four foster kids" and changed it to "Given by her foster children". the customer didn't say anything, only asked for it to be changed back to how it was originally entered. Renée told this story and laughed at how stupid she was for making that mistake. she told me this around noon and I'm still giggling about it.

the second is from the grocery store. I stopped after work to pick up a couple of things. the self-checkout I ended up at was next to one of their holiday food drive displays, where I think the deal listed there was if you donate $10 (whether in money or buying the actual food, I'm not sure), you get a canvas bag with the food drive logo on it. while I went through my transaction, an employee was standing next to the display explaining to a female customer about this bag thing. and then I overheard the employee say "no, we don't donate the food to you, we donate it to a community food bank". I managed to get out of the store before cracking up. what kind of person doesn't understand the concept of a food drive?

in which our heroine spins the wheel of medical misfortune.

today I had two appointments: one with my primary care doc to redraw blood to see if I'm still anemic and also to check out my wrist (I sprained it five weeks ago) and see if he thought I need to see a specialist; and one with my endocrinologist, just the standard every-three-months checkup to draw blood and make sure my hormone levels are okay.

at Dr. L's, he got a quick rundown on my wrist situation. after doing some range-of-motion tests with me, he determined that the sprain was not worse, but in fact I have tendinitis in my still-healing wrist. that's just beautiful, isn't it? he prescribed anti-inflammatories, heat, and staying off the computer. that will, of course, make work so much fun. but hey, what can I do? the doctor said so!

then he drew blood for the anemia testing. or rather...he tried. I have very tiny, very stubborn veins. they do not like to be stuck with needles. they roll around and are generally uncooperative. this has led to my getting stuck in both inner elbow areas (on a single visit) in an attempt to find some/enough blood more times than I can remember. last time he drew blood, he checked one elbow, then the other, then eventually switched back, found a vein after a good few minutes, and then I spent ten minutes lying on the table while he tried to coax blood from my spiteful little veins. if you've never had a needle stuck in your arm for longer than it takes to get an injection or have blood drawn (for tests or I guess for donation), I don't recommend it.

so I laughed about all this with a latex tie around my upper arm, my hand balled into a fist, and Dr. L searching for a potential vein. he decided he found one in my right inner elbow, so he stuck me with the needle (I'm not a big baby about needles or anything, but damn this one hurt), and a few minutes later I heard an "...aw". turns out he got about a quarter of a vial before my vein sputtered and died. so he checked the other arm. nothing doing.

after that, he just gave me a lab form with their information and asked if I'd have the endocrinologist's lab draw a vial for my anemia tests while they're in there anyway. fine, whatever. I went back to work for a couple of hours.

later in the afternoon, I left work for the day and went to my endocrinologist appointment.

(a quick rundown on why I see an endocrinologist: two years ago, I had a lump in my neck that I had Dr. L check out. he said it was probably just an enlarged nodule on my thyroid and referred me to an endocrinologist. I picked Dr. B from the provider list based on location and positive reviews on some websites -- seriously. I saw Dr. B and he scheduled a ultrasound. the ultrasound showed a golf-ball-sized mass protruding from my thyroid. Dr B. ordered a biopsy. the results of the biopsy were "abnormal"; he couldn't tell me for sure that it wasn't cancer. he advised me to have my thyroid removed, and I set up an appointment with Dr P, the surgeon he recommended. about a week later, I was in the hospital having the surgery. I stayed overnight and was out of work for ten days to recover. the mass was benign, but my thyroid itself had patches of malignancy. I went through radiation therapy and had a full-body scan afterward and was pronounced cancer-free. I've since had another treatment and scan, and I remain so. for reasons I won't bore you with, I no longer see Dr. B; Dr. G is with the endocrinologist's office that Dr. L referred me to.)

anyway, back to Dr. G. standard procedure there is for the nurse to usher me back and take my weight and blood pressure, as well as update my chart. after she did all that, I waited a few minutes and Dr. G came in. she asked about my general health, and I told her about the wrist sprain and anemia, then I sat on the exam table.

the first thing she told me was that my blood pressure was high this visit, and she wanted to check it again. now, normally I'm right at "normal", usually hitting about 117/78, and not once in my life has it been high. today, both times, I was 140/80. then she stuck my finger to do the blood sugar test thing. they typically want the number around 99-100, and mine was 109. again high and again abnormal (I think I had a 97 the last time). she was checking the lymph nodes in my neck, praising the scar from my surgery (she always does this; I have to say that the surgeon did a really good job -- there's not much of a scar now and what's there is only a thin faint line), when she stopped mid-sentence, took her hands off my skin and exclaimed "wow, you're really warm!" I told her, again, that this is what I'd been telling her each time I came in, about how I always feel abnormally warm or cold, how my mother started feeling this way too when she was about my age, and Dr. G always passed it off by saying "but you're too young for that to be happening". (yes, well, I'm too "young" to be a cancer survivor too, but you were the one admiring my scar.) these three things, as well as the fact that I cannot seem to lose weight anymore (I'd lost some in the three-month period between my next-to-last and last visit, and I gained it back in the three-month period between the last visit and today's), she started to be concerned. (well, good, and finally; if only I didn't have to have all this stuff happening to get her attention, but I digress.)

she decided to forgo drawing blood today and instead asked me to come back, fasting, for more tests, including a glucose test. I'm going first thing tomorrow when their lab opens, because fasting until an afternoon appointment sucks rocks. for this new test, I get my blood drawn right when I come in, then they give me something sugary to drink, and then they draw blood again an hour later and then again an hour after that. so I get to spend my morning at the lab, doing my best impression of a human pincushion.

what they are concerned about is that I'm becoming (or have become) diabetic. these are fun fucking times, my friends.

in which our heroine does a bit of evolving.

the afternoon Morgan came over, I had not spoken to Patrick in six days.

Patrick and I are seeing each other, but we are undefined. there is some physical distance between us, which complicates things. he has said that if it weren't for the distance, we'd be exclusively together without a doubt. he seems to like me a lot, and that feeling is very very mutual.

he was here visiting me two weekends ago because I had arranged for us to attend an event that I knew he'd love. and he did, very much. that event was on Sunday night; every minute of the weekend before that was completely wonderful.

he left Monday morning when I went to work. we exchanged a few texts on Monday and also a call that morning when he had questions about directions. and I had not heard a thing from him since.

this brings us to this past Sunday. the day that Morgan came over.

Morgan and I are not so much "undefined" as "undefinable". we've known each other for nearly ten years. we don't have a history; we have a History. a capital-H-istory. if each person is meant to have one great love in their entire life, then I am either fortunate or damned unlucky, depending on who you ask, because I have two. the second one is Adam, who is a whole other post; the first is Morgan. though I won't go into detail about Adam now, suffice it to say that Adam and Morgan are the yin and yang of my life. Adam is sweetness and romance and love and security; Morgan is captivation and lust and sex and addiction. reading back over that, I realize that my description of Morgan casts some horribly negative light on him. it's not that way at all. he and I have gone through a lot together, but we've come out the other side, finally, and we're really okay this time. I love Morgan, I'm sure, partly because I don't know how not to, but I know I don't ever want to learn.

over the course of Sunday afternoon, Morgan and I worked our way through a large bottle of sangria and (unintentionally) some of our past, both together and apart. I started to remember that one of the great things about him is that I feel like he sees the best version of me, and while I know I'm not that person, I very much want to be. thanks to the alcohol and the talking and the rest, we had a great day together.

the next night I was sitting here at the computer, like I tend to do every night, and Morgan and I were having a conversation over email. my mind was working away, like it tends to do. I was thinking about Patrick, wondering why he hadn't called, emailed, or even so much as sent a text message, and wondering when I'd hear from him...and it hit me out of nowhere: I deserve better than this. I was not going to sit by and just live with Patrick's silence until he felt like calling. I really like this guy and his behavior is strange and it's completely unacceptable for him to treat me this way. so, inspired, I fired off a reply to Morgan and shut down the computer. I then laid down, turned off the bedroom light, and called Patrick.

voice mail. same as I got the previous Monday and Tuesday nights when I called, before I stopped trying. with strength in my voice, I told him that I wasn't sure what he was going through or what was happening in his life at that moment, but...and then call waiting beeped and the display showed his name.

I hung up with his voice mail and clicked over to the voice itself. he started out the conversation acting somewhat like nothing was different. after initial pleasantries, however, I asked him what was wrong, why he hadn't returned my calls, why he'd seemingly dropped off the planet with regards to me (since I could see him updating his status and commenting to other folks on Facebook, at least I knew he was around, but it didn't sit right with me). he said things about needing space, about thinking a lot about him and me, where we were going. he hadn't come to any decisions yet, but I think I got him to understand that all he had to do was tell me this at the beginning of the previous week and I would have been okay with it, but cutting contact altogether was not cool. he apologized and we had a quick normal chat, but I don't know when we'll talk again. what I do know is that I stood up for myself, something that I've never been that good at, and all because I finally started to believe that it was okay to defend myself.

I'm slowly becoming a better version of myself. I hope Morgan is proud. I know I am.

in which our heroine suffers from insomnia

I don't usually sleep well even on my best days. last night was certainly no exception.

I tend to have the most trouble getting to sleep on Sunday nights because I'm so overcaffeinated on the weekend. case in point: all afternoon, evening, night yesterday, I went to the kitchen to fill my cup ("cup" is an understatement; it's more like a thirty-two ounce plastic mug), getting the two-liter of Diet Pepsi out of the fridge, and in the back of my mind was the lecturing voice, the one that says "you know this is a bad idea", and yet the cup was filled again and again. that was dumb enough in itself, but I also justified it somehow by telling myself "it's okay, I'll just take Tylenol PM tonight to balance it out". rational mind: "this is borderline drug abuse." irrational mind: "nah, it'll be fine!"

I laid down at 11:30, which is about normal for me. it's later than I'd like, but I've always been a night owl, preferring to stay up late (usually gaming) and sleep until almost noon -- good for working second shift jobs, bad when your workday starts at 7:30 in the morning. I was expecting a phone call, which has been a nearly-nightly occurrence for a few months now, so I wasn't really trying to sleep just then. instead, I laid in bed with the fan turned toward me, waiting for the humidity in my bedroom to subside. (I recently moved and I live on the top floor of my building. while I'm enjoying sitting out on my deck, summer, and the heat/humidity combo, sucks mightily.)

the call came a few minutes after midnight and ended around 12:30. though it was still stiflingly humid, I pulled the sheet up over me, grabbed the other pillow, and snuggled down into the mattress, waiting for the sleeping pills to take over. meanwhile, my mind was racing. I'm sure a great deal of my insomnia has to do with the nightly challenge of shutting my brain down, but usually if it doesn't work on its own, I can force it with what I refer to as self-hypnosis but is probably...well, probably close to that, now that I think about it. however, I won't go into detail; it's hard to explain and the few times I've tried have left me feeling like I'm slightly mad. at any rate, it's worked pretty well for probably eleven or twelve years.

last night, however...

one of the things about me is that I always have a song in my head. this is without fail. songs that are background noise in my mind when I'm awake become the soundtrack to my dreams at night. mostly I've accepted it as just how things are, but at times it's maddening. last night was one of those times. I managed to mentally turn down the volume on them, but it wasn't enough. for my self-hypnosis to work, I have to force my mind to clear, and I couldn't do it last night. add to that the fact that the pills weren't really so effective against the ocean of caffeine I'd consumed earlier, and it all led to me not falling asleep until 5:00. for the record, "5:00 a.m." is otherwise known as "an hour before my alarm goes off".

I peered at the clock some time later, which ended up being a few minutes before I had to get up. my eyes felt grainy, my head was pounding, and I knew there was no way I could get out of bed. I re-set the alarm for 7:00 and passed out again.

a few minutes before 7:00, I woke up, picked up my cell phone and called my manager, Renée. I told her my head was killing me and that I needed a couple of hours to let painkillers take effect before I'd be in. after that, I dropped the phone back on my night table, set the alarm for 9:00, and closed my eyes again.

I got up shortly before 9:00; despite my weariness, I still slept pretty lightly. I rushed through my morning routine (taking the painkillers then because I couldn't make myself get up to take them at the time I should have) and left at 9:20, making it to work by 9:40.

I would have probably been better off staying home and attempting to sleep some more. I'm completely useless today. I'm bleary-eyed and shaky, my hands are tingly and my sprained wrist is throbbing. I feel like I'm looking at everything as if it was underwater, with the same slowed reaction time.

the room around me and the conversations within are a dull roar, muffled and mumbled like the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher, all set to the 80s station we stream from iTunes. on the bright side, I don't have the energy to be neurotic; I barely have the energy to type this right now. on the not-so-bright side, however, I'm susceptible to making mistakes in my work -- not as many as Renée (which is a whole other post in itself), but enough. for me, the perfectionist, one is too many.

and the feeling I have right now...let me see if I can accurately describe it. in one word: desperation. in several: I feel as if nothing, not work, not my cats, not food, money, love, sex, sunlight, books, Spore, the local gas crisis, family, friends, nothing matters as much as sleeping. it's all I want to do, and I feel like it's the only thing I'll ever want to do for the rest of my life. at the same time it's both very understandable and also a cause for concern: understandable because...well, duh, and a cause for concern because that alone says to me that my depression, which I'm usually pretty good at keeping at bay, is looming around the edges of my compromised consciousness, waiting to strike, to overwhelm, with me too weak to stop it. I hope that's not the case, and I'll definitely be aware of any further signs that I'm heading in that direction, but it's pretty disturbing nonetheless.

and so here I sit, at my desk, and what do I have to combat my exhaustion? why, the hair of the dog that bit me, of course! I'm halfway through one can with another staring at me from across my desk. oh, and there's also sugar, in the form of a 3 Musketeers mint candy bar. I'm nothing if not absolutely, brilliantly self-destructive, eh? (though I did have a granola bar earlier that had both fruit and nuts in it.)

what I need to do (again), I know, is get rid of the caffeine. I did it for two months earlier in the year (ironically it was around Lent, which may have confused some of my religious co-workers, being that I'm an atheist and all), and it helped a lot. I also need to correct my horrible diet and get some exercising done. both of these things also have helped in the past.

anyway...er...I seem to have wasted a whole lot of work time typing this, so I'd better stop. maybe I'll take a nap when I get home...

(note at 5:40 p.m.: I did not take a nap. my bedroom window and the door to the deck both have blinds, but a whole lot of light comes in anyway, and my ideal sleeping environment is "dark as a cave". I'll have to do something about that next week. also, by 1:00, I was wide awake. well, not wide awake, but you know. I am the very model of the phrase "too tired to sleep".)