this song always reminds me of my mood swings but that’s OK
If I seem to be disjointed, well I am.
I am not the type of man to let you in,
but you always reunite me with myself
every time I’m trapped inside of someone else.
And I can’t see tomorrow any more than I can dream
about somebody else’s life ’til through his eyes I’ve seen.
Will you love me for who I am,
not who I might have been
or who I’ll be tomorrow
when I’m someone else again?
Will you love me for what you see,
not who you think I’ll be?
when I wake up tomorrow
will you still remember me?
Will you love me?
Will you love me?
Sometimes I feel like an echo in my skin
every time I’ve gone and lost myself again,
but you meet me everywhere I try to hide;
open up my doors and let yourself inside.
And I could swear I’ve known you
for a thousand lives or more,
but every day I’m someone
that you’ve never seen before.
(Chorus)
‘Cause you’re the only face
that never changes, never leaves,
but when you look at me
who do you see?
I’ve always called it ‘sick’ when I’m dealing with people who don’t get what a deep, dark, black pit of despair real depression is… I still struggle with telling people what’s wrong with me. Hell, I struggled with telling J the truth tonight about a few things. (None of which belong here… I do keep some things private.) So, I fall back on “I don’t feel well” or “I dunno. Guess I’m just tired.”
It’s hard to look for a job when the voices in your head are telling you you’re completely worthless and that you’ll never find another job.
So imagine my surprise when I came home to this in my Facebook messages: You are intelligent and have an awesome command of the English language.
Remember a few days ago when I vented about companies deciding what my commute should be?
The first company to bring it up called me for a phone screen this morning (to my surprise). This is the same company who already asked me twice about my salary requirements and commute…
Needless to say, they called, asked those two questions, said sorry for wasting my time and ended the screen.
I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t want to work there anyway.
In the meantime, a job I applied for, that I did get a quick phone screen for, called me this morning to schedule a meeting with the CFO.
Interesting.
I’m still hoping to hear from everyone else I’ve met with already and I have an interview for a cost accounting job on Friday. I want to get into cost, and they’re willing to train - even with my required salary and experience level, I’m still a viable candidate.
I don’t know… this is pretty damn stressful and I’m at the end of my rope. I’m tired of being home alone all day every day.
It took me forever to get into Eleven, and once I started to love him… *poof* Two more episodes and it’s time for a new regeneration.
So much for being on series 8. So much for being under contract thru 2014.
I’m loving all the guessing as to who will become Twelve but the Cumberbabe should not even be considered.
NO. JUST. NO.
I don’t care that Moftiss work(s?) on Who. The ‘babe belongs on Sherlock, and for more than just series three.
Kind of related:
My friend has been living under a rock for the past few years and is just now finally watching the Harry Potter movies. (He’s read the books, at least, so that’s something…) I kind of like his FB statuses about seeing the movies for the first time. It reminds me of getting into Doctor Who, and Sherlock, The Hunger Games and, well, basically every fandom I’m a part of on tumblr. Watching the new kids join Teh Crazy, becoming one of the new kids… It’s a rite of passage almost and I’m glad I’m a part of it. I mean, it’s kind of awesome, really. I suppose it’s what parents feel when they watch their kids exploring the world for the first time.
Instead of prepping for tomorrow’s phone screen, I’m writing fan fic. Cabin Pressure this time.
What can I say? I’ve decided I like playing in other people’s sandboxes.
My entire life - ENTIRE LIFE - I’ve only had two nightmares. TWO. I mean, I’ve had bad dreams, but these are the waking up screaming, shaking, afraid to turn on the lights type. And they’re recurring. That’s the best part of it all… they’re always the same, no matter what. Even though I have them over and over and over and over, they always scare the crap out of me.
In the first one I’m being chased by Michael Myers. It’s always the same. I’m getting chased through a mall, I wind up in the basement of the house I grew up in and somehow I end up killing him. Like no more sequels dead. And it scares me shitless every. single. time. Even though I know how to kill him. Even though I ALWAYS kill him.
In the second one, I’m reliving my father’s death: finding him and identifying him in the casket before his cremation. Honestly, this one is probably more terrifying than the Myers one because it’s real. I can’t deal with reliving that… and it’s probably the one that shakes me to the core the most. Which is understandable, I guess.
Last night, I had a new one. One that woke me up twice. I was afraid to fall back asleep because I didn’t want to wake up a third time shaking and sweaty.
There was a ghost in the basement of the house I grew up in. Mind you, despite it’s appearance in two of my nightmares, this is a basement I’d never really been terrified of. I maybe was a little spooked by it because there was wood paneling in one half and my overactive imagination used to see faces in it. The other half was my father’s workshop and it wasn’t really finished. It’s where I spent a lot of time playing ping pong or even Barbies on those random occasions. It shouldn’t scare the shit out of me as much as it did last night. Whatever was down there was mean, and it was obvious that it meant to do me harm.
I’m not sure what to do, but I haven’t been able to shake it so far today.
I’m really hoping this is a random thing and not a new nightmare to add to the rotation…
but I can’t help wondering if this is the universe’s payback for all the new found luck on my job search.
