Circling

I am not having an easy time of things, mah peeps.

Okay, fine, YES it's spring and YES to some degree that makes me happy; but spring carries with it a certain burden of expectations, and if there's one thing I can't live up to anymore, it's expectations.

I was watching a movie the other night on TCM, and Robert Osborne (Mr. Voice of TCM, and what they'll do for a host when HE's gone I'm sure I don't want to see) said something about an actress who "lost the will to live, and died shortly thereafter..." And I thought to myself How, exactly, does one go about doing that? Losing the will to live, I mean; it seems like the sort of thing only actresses would have the luxury of doing. If you're an actress and you just wither away and die, you're instantly a glamorous heroine for the ages; if you're NOT an actress or any of the other pretty things, withering away is seen as a self-indulgence. Oh, I'm swimming in an EXTRA-special pond THESE days; if you're feeling brave, try to wrap your brain around the notion that I'm taking my nonfunctionality as a sign of laziness and bad character, and my sadness as quantifiable proof that I'm NOT the wonderful person I wish I was--because if I was wonderful, I'd be able to just blaze on through the sadness without a flicker. Beat yourself up much, Gladys?

There's a lot of crap floating around in my life right now. I'm basically supporting, in whole or in part, four-point-three human beings and four cats--there's me, Tim, Squeaky and the Fetus, CR; Snick, Bad, Cassidy, and Tangerine (the last two being Tim and Squeaky's cats. Cass is a veteran of my various residences; Tangie is an absolutely precious little ball of fluff who literally followed Tim to Squeaky's one night a few months ago. I would resent Tangie's presence more if she wasn't so damn freaking ADORABLE and if her presence didn't make me smile at least once or twice a day. This is a seriously cute kitty, folks--almost, but not quite, as cute as my Snick was when he was a teeny kitten.) I've been sending CR money on my own--he only asked once, but I know he's in a baaaaad place right now, maybe even more bad than I am, emotionally speaking. At least HE appreciates it, which is currently more than I can say for the Tim-Squeaky unit.

See, Squeak has a part time job, and what with various delays and red tape, it's taken a while to get her paperwork to go through and blah, blah, and everytime she's borrowed money from me she's promised me: "I'll pay you back when my check comes." Now I don't expect to be paid in full by any means, but just throw me $30 and say "hey, this is all we've got but I do appreciate it..." etc.

Her check came yesterday. Last night when I got home I said something about having to get up early today, and she said "yeah, us too!" I said "Really? Where are you going?" and she replied "Just out."

I knew immediately something was up; this is the same woman who talks my ear off about every infinitesimal crumb of trivia she experiences through the course of a day, but now suddenly "we're just going out." Yeah, okay.

So this morning, I get up at 6:10 to get ready for work, and the two of them were up and dressed and moving around. "Hey," I said to Tim. "Where are you guys off to so early?" "Oh," he said. "We're just going to Great America." (Hint for my non-Chicago readers--Great America is a big amusement park about 50 miles north of here. When I was in grade school, tickets cost $40 each; I can't imagine what they cost now, to say nothing of what the food costs (and the Fetus dictates that Squeaky needs to consume her own weight in junk-food every six hours or so, apparently.)

So, let's see. $40 x 2 = $80 for tickets (though they probably got a discount); plus food for at least 1= about $20 at the least; transportation (I'm guessing they took the train) = $15 or so...what are we up to now, $115? They're going to spend a third of her check and I have not seen, nor even been offered, a DIME, despite the fact that I have boarded them for the entire spring thus far. Like I said, I don't expect to get a big wad of cash from them--just a token and a fuckin' ACKNOWLEDGEMENT would be plenty.

Tim told me where they were going as I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth; by the time I finished, they were gone--without so much as a "have a good day!" I sent a couple of mildly pissed-off text messages, but basically the response was "this was a spur of the moment thing, you have to work, and anyway you've been too busy to talk lately." Uh-huh, I have been busy--with my FUCKING JOB, which goes to support YOUR no-money-having, jobless pregnant asses!!!

I can't wait til the next time "Tim needs cigarette money" or "man, I'm really craving (whatever)". My reply is going to be very simple: "Wow, I'm sorry to hear that. Hope you work something out." I'll spend it on myself instead, or --this would REALLY smoke Tim's hindquarters--I'll send it to CR and then tell Tim I sent it! (And yes, I know I don't need to be helping CR, either, but there's a difference; unlike Tim, I trust CR will actually GET a job and not just TALK about paying me back someday.

There's a lot of other crap going on too--computers which won't work and which I've been trying to fix for someone after-hours; too damn many things in the world changing all at once, and other things staying the same no matter WHAT I would wish for; and this crushing sense that I am doing precisely NOTHING with my life--but the roomies were the sprinkles on the Chest Hair Cake of disaster. (Welcome, my friends, to the OTHER thing that's kept all my cracked little bits Scotch-taped together for the past few weeks: CakeWrecks. Go to the search box on that site and type "Falker Satherhood", and read the whole post, and snort beverage through your nose.)

God, I try so hard not to just be a draggy bag of sad...it's just a hard, hard road to walk. Cats and cakes and blogs and Froot Loops, and sometimes all four at once...they help, I guess, a little, but sometimes it's just hard to smile and act like everything is fine--especially when so much of my world is populated by people who either a)don't know me well (or shouldn't know me well), b)people who know me well but find me difficult; and c)opportunists who claim they appreciate the things you do until they're actually supposed to SHOW their appreciation--all those people to interact with every single day, and not a JP in the crowd. (Oh yeah: according to my shrink? I'm "idealizing" that relationship--apparently in her opinion, this isn't "real" grief at all, it's just a lack of a social life. I HUGELY beg to differ, but like any other crap I encounter, I just shrug it off and go along my way. It would be nice if even the people who are PAID to understand me would acquire a clue.)