The ghost in the cellar

this man was made for b&w photography

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.

Here’s to good friends

there are so many good things about this picture, i can’t even…

Went out to lunch today with Silent P.

I can’t remember the last time I braved Portsmouth during tourist season, but it wasn’t too bad today.

We went to the Gas Light and - once again - they proved my theory that I’ve only ever crossed paths with one chef who can cook a burger to order. It’s not rocket science. I can’t cook, but if I did, I’m sure I could figure it out. I’m a whiz at baking and baking is harder, so therefore, poking a burger to make sure it matches the “fist test” can’t be that hard.

Actually, the guy that taught me the fist test just happens to be the only one that can cook a burger…

Interesting.

Anyhoo.

After we ate, we walked around the city. I forget how beautiful it can be around there. It’s like Boston, but smaller. Much easier to trip over the tourists.

We bonded over the weirdest things. He really is a kindred spirit in so many ways.

I’m bummed I left the Muchachos because it means I don’t get to see him too often, but I’m glad he wants to continue the friendship outside of the corps.

Rebuilding a life is hard - especially when you’re the one who nuked it - but it is possible.

Thanks for reminding me of that, Silent P.

 

OMG! I’m not the only one!!!

john fucking finnemore uses the word embiggen, too!

*happy dance* I’m not the only one holding on to the past!

Seriously - I just about shit myself when I saw this.

For the clueless - Finnemore writes “Cabin Pressure” and plays the always BRILLIANT Arthur.

——

From the episode “Ottery St. Mary” because… well… OTTERS!

DOUGLAS: So that’s what? Ninety-seven – and three in the flight deck! A hundred!

ARTHUR: Brilliant!

MARTIN: No. Not in the flight deck.

DOUGLAS: Hypothetically.

MARTIN: I don’t care how hypothetical it is, I’m not flying with a live otter in the flight deck!

DOUGLAS: I don’t see why not. Historically, very few hijackings have been carried out by otters.

MARTIN: I’m sorry, but I don’t think the Civil Aviation Authority would be too keen on the idea.

DOUGLAS: To be quite honest with you, Captain, I don’t think there’s a whole lot about this plane full of unsupervised otters the CAA is going to love.

 

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

whominions

I got thinking today, while reading bad fan fiction and watching even worse horror movies, that I’ve gotten pretty damn good at lying.

It’s always been there, of course. You don’t grow up as fucked up as I am and not learn to lie as a coping mechanism. I’ve just never been particularly good at it.

The wild stories and the promise not to tell anyone. Writing in a diary to keep track of the stories. Watching some of them have a life of their own. Watching a few of them actually become the truth.

My life has become a series of lies lately.

The pain and pleasure of the job interview circuit…

Why were you laid off? Why did you leave this position? Why should I hire you?

Lie. Lie. Lie.

If I tell the truth, you’ll know my big secret… you can’t know my secret. You’ll use it against me. So I make shit up. It’s not really a lie. It’s a minor stretching of the truth. I need to hide the bipolar. So I lie and pretend I’m fine.

Except for when I can’t lie and pretend I’m fine:

Describe how you deal with stress: I pop an ativan and hide in the bathroom, crying. Oh, no… wait. I take a deep breath, put on my big girl panties and plow through. I don’t get stressed. Stress is for pussies! I make stress my bitch… it’s never the other way around. Except that it ALWAYS is and I wind up popping an ativan and hiding in the bathroom.

Describe a time when a coworker made you angry and how you reacted: I screamed and yelled like a crazy person and then kicked him in the nuts. Wait, I meant to say that I popped an ativan, went into the bath… oh fuck. I took a deep breath, put on my big girl panties, and told him that this conversation… no. I popped an ativan and hid in the bathroom.

Describe an average day for you: Well, first I wake up hating myself. Then I think about how nice it would be if my heart would just keep it’s promise to kill me. Or maybe I should start getting drunk before I leave the house. Never mind… I bounce out of bed ready to start the day, mainline some coffee and… fuck it. I pop an ativan and hide in the bathroom until I absolutely positively can’t put off leaving any longer.

Wow. I sound like an addict, don’t I? Maybe that’s why I call my psych drug prescriber my drug dealer.

Seriously, it’s not really that bad. I don’t use the ativan as a crutch. That would be stupid.

However, when there’s a question on an application about being disabled (if it’s worded correctly, it’s legal. There’s a very fine line, though.), I’m always tempted to check “yes” and write in big letters “I’M SO FUCKED IN THE HEAD, YOU’RE GOING TO END UP WISHING THAT YOU HIRED SOMEONE WHO ISN’T BIPOLAR AND HEAVILY MEDICATED FOR YOUR PROTECTION.”

But instead, I take a deep breath, put on my big girl panties, pop an ativan and hide in the bathroom.

(Oh, black humour, I’d be so lost without you…)

*dance party*

watson busts a move at buckingham palace

Let me start off with this:

WHAT THE FUCK, UNIVERSE?!?!

I’m going to assume that my new habit of slaughtering chickens in graveyards at midnight while dancing nekkid is working…

After telling me I wasn’t eligible for unemployment this go-round, the state sent me a letter letting me know they changed their mind. So, WOOOO! Income!

My interview today was AMAZING. Loved him. He wasn’t lying, though. The accounting office at this hotel is in a guest room. A GUEST ROOM. (Actually two: one for the controller and one for the assistant controller (me).) Big, windows, en suite bathroom, discounts at other locations. Only bad things: location (traffic’s a BITCH) and I have to go back to wearing suits.

While I’m meeting with him, one of my recruiters leaves me a message about scheduling an interview with ANOTHER company. As he’s calling to let me know they had to change the date, I get an email asking for a phone screen. 

When I’ve normally looked for a job, I’ve been in a position where I’m dying to jump ship and it’s generally not feast or famine. Right now, I have a lot of good options and I’ve got a lot of people asking me if I’d be interested in second interviews and they’re all looking to hire at the same time.

How in the hell am I going to make this decision?