Okay, since apparently folks are coming here in droves from the CTA Tattler (one of my favoritemost blogs simply because of the hellacious amount of time I spend on public transit here in Chi), I have deleted last night's explosion of profanity. At least, for now. But Blogger better not eat any more emotionally-charged 45-minute posts, is all I have to say for Blogger, or I will call it things that haven't been identified yet.
About me--rather than making you read back a year and some months:
I'm Gladys. Okay, actually I'm NOT, but that's the name I'm operating under for blog purposes. My anonymity frees me to be 100% honest.
I'm 34, twice divorced, and I live in West Garfield Park, better known as "the 'hood". Seriously. I'm "the white lady with the big cat in the window." That's how I'm identified. (The big cat is White Cat, who has more fur than brain.) I bought a dilapidated house--how dilapidated, I had no way of knowing--back in October of last year, and I've been living there ever since, along with my guy, LJ, a freelance businessman whose business deals are not entirely of the legal persuasion. Similar transactions take place all along my block, 24 hours a day.
I am not afraid of this situation, for two reasons: 1. I am a former heroin addict (clean 5 years come New Years' Eve), and 2. I am not afraid of dying. In fact, I sorta look forward to it, in a passive sort of "well, I'm here now so I guess I oughta make the best of it" kind of way. The reasons behind that....well, I'll post the links when I get home, since my work Mac won't link.
Don't get me wrong: I love my life (though I hate, loathe, despise, abominate, detest, spit upon, and revile my job) but I've got some questions for the afterlife, and I'm not a patient girl.
I bought my house here because: a) it was cheap; b) it was available; and c) it was almost-exactly where I wanted to be. I just wasn't made for the quieter places, that's all.
Lately this blog has sorta devolved into bitching and messianic rantings; this is a direct effect of overwork, which has pushed me to feverish fantasies of Donald-Trumplike dominion over the City of Chicago. Basically I'm just sick of the people I work with and their total disrespect for me as a professional. Once I get out of that place, I'll be much more creative and well-adjusted.
It's not all gloom and doom around here. I have an odd sense of humor which almost no one (including my guy) gets. But I keep myself entertained. I'm a reality-show junkie, a NASCAR fiend (with all the loyalties and hatreds that entails) and I'll watch almost anything if you make it into a cartoon. I do all sorts of weird creative things--painting, drawing, crochet, quilting--none of it all that good, but hell, at least I'm doing SOMETHING. And I write. I've got one novel in progress now, along with another Thing That Could Be A Novel, if it would make up its mind to actually get written.
Links to any and all of the above-mentioned items will be posted tonight, if you're interested in coming back.
This is my first 100-visitor day. Kinda nice.
I can only dream of getting 100 visits in a day, I bow before you.
ReplyDeletePS. I kinda liked the swearfest!
Actually it was quite liberating. And I still think "cuntbus" is a good catchall insult. (Props to Pisser--it was her invention.)
ReplyDeleteAs for the 100+--the CTA Tattler, about the public transit system here in Chi, got a whole article in the paper a few days ago. So THEIR stats are through the roof, and because I'm over there so much, my stats get the bounce. Nothing I did, particularly....rats. :)
Heya!
ReplyDeleteI can sympathise with you on the druggie neighbours thing. As you know, I have colourful neighbours. We've had the police round a few times asking awkward questions.
bleh :(