Krissie: The Terminator Part Deux

I sure the fuck want to terminate someone right now. Or at least kick them in the shins with steel-toed boots. Tim has a pair — I wonder if I could borrow them for the next time I go to New York.

But I digress. I’ve been trying really hard to be positive, to not envision bad things happening but keep good thoughts, positive thoughts. It’s been like balancing on a razor. Maybe life is like balancing on a razor — it’s so easy to fall into disaster but staying on the blade cuts into your feet and you bleed …

As you can tell I’m not feeling jovial right now. I’m feeling lost and confused and I can’t find my way home. Hmmm, that was a song by a band called Blind Faith. Do you suppose that’s a message for me? The world is full of signs if we just look for them. Maybe I need a little blind faith that all will work out as it should.

It always does. I can look back at things that crippled me and wonder why I got so upset. I can also look back at pain and still feel that same pain, when I really need to let go of it.

But I digress. I can’t go into details because it’s about That Which Will Not Be Discussed, but on top of that we went to a financial adviser to see what we could do about the mess we’re in. I meant to take a tranquilizer before I went but I forgot, since I was up until 4:30 am finishing the revisions on the first book I ever wrote.

I hate self-pity. My mother was obsessed with what a tough life she’d had. I hate despair. I’m a hope kind of girl, a fighter, a firm believer in my own (and everyone else’s) divinity. I know how fabulous I am – how could I miss it.

And yet there’s a black, greasy cloud-like monster lurking in my room, ready to devour me. I feel totally defeated.

That’s normal, I think. Everyone goes through times when they feel dragged down and defeated, that everything’s gone wrong and there’s no way to fix it. Even the most chipper of spirits has to falter sometimes.

I probably make it worse by hating when I give in to it. And in the grand scheme of things it’s only money. It’s not people’s lives or health. It’s not dystopia or armageddon or living out of a car or being eaten by zombies. It is what it is.

God grant me the serenity etc. I need a solid dose of serenity. I’m not sure what to do right now. I started making a list of all the things I could do to cut expenses. I know hard love is a necessity. Hard love for everyone, including myself.

How do I make myself feel better, take a step back and view things with equanimity? (Since I was 18 years old that’s been one of my favorite words. It’s something that always seems to elude me. How many 18 year olds search for equanimity? I’m a goddess, I tell you).

I’m also a drama queen. I’m overreacting to everything. And I don’t know what to do.

Krissie: Epic Fail

Photo on 2-27-13 at 7.06 AMSo I had all these grand ideas.  I would do Netdiary every day.  I would swim three times a week.  I would work on a room a day (and even figured out a schedule for it).   Failed!

Well, I did swim twice last week, but Monday I had to go to Newport, Tuesday I had to work and then do a boob squoosh, and today Richie has to take his truck in to be inspected so we only have one vehicle which he needs for work (and I need to see my shrink).

Thursday for a swim?  Something’s gonna get in my way.  Aiyeee!

On the other hand.  Remember the pit of despair I was in in December, when I found out my darling Thelma, my electric blue PT Cruiser, was mortally wounded and would need almost 2k to be fixed? I was so bad people were offering me money.  It was like rock bottom.

Well, the problem with the car came from hitting a chunk of ice.  And we forgot that insurance pays for that kind of thing. So I took it up to the body shop and got the estimate for the insurance company, then took all the various paperwork to the courthouse (in the same town, 45 miles away) and got my mother’s small estate dealt with (I’ve been putting that off for months).  Came home and did some good writing.  Also did some cleaning up, though it never shows.

So maybe things aren’t so bad.  I thought the picking a day and working on the house was such a good idea.  Except I can’t remember which day was for what.  And damn if I wouldn’t love to sew.

I have so many things I have to do, so many things I want to do.  At least I’ve crossed the whole estate thing off my list, my annual mammogram, I’ve written for the last two days (and it’s good stuff). But I’m frustrated.

Okay, pull up my socks and stop complaining. Today, I will write (always first). Gotta do a car drop off (Richie’s truck needs inspection) and then see if my car is good enough for a drive to NJ. Plus minor food shopping, then … ok, office. The bedroom is a disaster but today is for the office. I know, I’ll clean the bedroom on Friday as an anniversary present (our 38th). And I’ll get back to Netdiary.

I’m hoping I can get down to Crusie’s on Monday, but the car may be a problem. And I think I can get my BIL to help with the great furniture move (at least I’m hoping). That, or cousins. Or both.
I’m just overwhelmed by all the stuff here. Bird by bird.
Here’s a picture of me a year ago — Photo on 2-27-12 at 7.04 AM

Krissie: Rescue

Aw, guys. I don’t need rescuing. That’s something we all need to fight against — we’re women, we’re hard-wired to nurture, to fix things. But I don’t need fixing. I just wanted the chance to vent, to moan, to wail.
This is a special, safe place for me, and I look for advice and support and a slap upside the head when needed (a gentle one). I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the offers of financial help, but no. No, no, no. It’s not that I’m unwilling to let people help me — I said yes when when Kate offered to come and declutter, I took Jenny’s Frequent Flyer Miles since she wasn’t going to fly again and I wanted to visit her. It’s not that I have to do everything on my own. I even let other people pick up the check sometimes, when I’m hardwired to do it. But truly, bless your hearts, I don’t need your financial help. Your emotional and problem-solving help is much more important.
That being said, things are never as bad as they seem to be. And even if they’re that bad, things tend to get better. They always do.
There’s a good chance the people who fixed our car after the accident (which is the root of what’s going on now) will fix it for free. We called and they have a guarantee. So Richie’s taking the car up there today and we’ll hope for the best. Even a discount on the work would help.
Though I gotta admit I did find a used bright blue Camry that I fell in love with.
So Richie’s dealing with it. While I was out he went and cut the tree that he grew and got it in the stand and even put the lights on. Made me sooo happy. I bought a freaking huge white poinsettia for the church in honor of my mother and the other dead ones, and even went to the advent meditation session (where I’m afraid I fell asleep but that’s okay).
I’ve been told I haven’t said anything new for a while (at least, not at Refab), so maybe we’re coming to the natural end of things. But I’m not going to worry about that now.
For today, I’m going to enjoy Christmas. I’m going to see if Alex can come over to bake, I’m going to wrap presents and decorate the tree and listen to Christmas music and maybe even curl up and read. It’s snowing, and we’ll get three to six inches on the weekend so that’s lovely. I think I’ll even go to the christmas eve service for the first time in many years.
I have some thinking to do. But I’ll stay warm and dry, drink Christmas tea and pick up a bit (the living area is staying in pretty good shape but I need to keep after it).
So all will be well. It’s a comfort day, the first day of winter, the end of the world?, the day after the solstice, which means the light is returning.
Here’s your assignment. This evening, after rush hour in your area, fill a thermos with hot chocolate or coffee or tea, load the dh or the kids or the dog into the car and drive around the neighborhoods and enjoy the lights. From the tacky to the elegant, enjoy them all. The solstice is light returning after the darkest day, and enjoy holiday lights is a great way to do it.
And Sister Krissie the impeccably demure blesses you all.

OH, and I found this great poem by Robert Frost, one of the few poets who made rhyming seem effortless. It’s in public domain, so we’re cool.

Fire and Ice
by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Krissie: Episode 6, A New Hope

That’s a phony smile. But it’s okay — it’s going to be fine. I’ve come up with a new plan.
Richie hit me with the usual awful financial news yesterday morning before I went in to work. Then I found out I was the one who screwed up about the freebie and blown an opportunity. Then I got all worked up over a misunderstanding (at least, I’m assuming it’s a simple misunderstanding) and Tim was all frantic and panicky about an interview and his resume and … well, it was too much.
But here’s the new plan. We had a little bit left in the home equity account, so I transferred some of that to the checking account and what with the money Richie’s bringing in it should cover us to the end of the month. So here’s the plan:
1. No more discussion of money, at all, until the end of the month and the book is done. There’s no need — we just go over the same damned thing and get more and more depressed. So that’s done. It’s not accomplishing anything but making me panicky.
2. Write two solid patches every day. One patch in the morning, one in the afternoon. No one and nothing else matters. The book has to be finished. Both for financial reasons and for my own well-being. I don’t feel good unless I write. So write I will, damn it. And no one, not no one not no how, will get in my way.
3. I hereby declare my independence from everyone else’s problems. It’s going to be miserably hard to do it, especially with Tim. I want to protect him so badly. But I can’t, I spin my wheels, and I fall by the wayside. So my best bet is to make myself unavailable to everyone, to ensure that I come first.

I have to figure out places to write. I can write at Sally’s, but it gets too distracting. We’re going to fix up her seasonal rental property, but I don’t have time to help and I can’t go to her house in the meantime. Can’t use the cabin — I’ve handed it over to Tim so he’s out of our hair. He’s going to interviews, job fairs, job counseling, but he’ll need a job to get a car to get an apartment. But that’s not my problem as long as he stays out of my way.
I digress.

Places to write: I now have a recliner in our bedroom and I have my office. Both of those are problematic because there’s too much activity in the house. The library will work on Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and maybe Saturday. There’s no place nearby like a coffee house or a Starbucks to hide out in. Where else?
I could probably find a place at the church. Problem is, if I don’t have a recliner I’m uncomfortable. I need to find a comfortable place to write.
Oh, I forgot. Those little white tables can make a place comfortable to write. I can do that. I can also write long hand and transcribe, but since I’m on a crunch I don’t want to spend the extra time unless I have to. The good thing about writing long hand is I can write anywhere. At the DMV, at the doctor’s office, etc.
So I guess part of my plan involves finding places to go. If I get the work done each day I can deal with anything else — it’s like an instant tranquilizer/mood enhancer.
Maybe I should break it off into small bites, like a few days ahead. Like we do on Mondays.
I really do need to take a load to Goodwill, which is in the town where Barnes and Noble and Starbucks are. I could load up the car, head out early in the morning and then spend the day working. I could do that tomorrow. No, Monday when the library is closed. That way I can work in Burlington at Barnes and Noble. Drinking coffee. Getting jazzed.
Seems to me there must be another place I can hole up and write. I can’t go to a motel this time.
Ah, well. Small bites. Bird by bird. This morning I have Alex, which is a delight, then Erin picks him up and I see my shrink. She’ll help me work out the deets.
But at least I have a plan, just for the next few days. I can always adjust it if need be, but for now I know what I have to do, and everyone better get out of my way.
I take no prisoners.

Krissie: This n That

I got distracted looking up Duff McKagan on Wikipedia. My goodness, he’s more than just pretty. Yum!
Okay, must behave.
A little bit more on the money situation. The thing is, our only income is from my writing. We cashed in any stocks we had to pay for the therapeutic schools (read that as “keep ’em off drugs” schools) that kept my son alive during his teenage years. Money well-spent.
But we’ve never figured out how to budget if we never know what kind of money is coming in when.
But still, a professional will probably be able to help us. And while the conversation was depressing I just went down and worked on cleaning up my sewing area so I can sew some more, so that was good.
I’ve got this sort of angst/worried/edgy feeling going on. Everything feels wrong and out of place, but that’s logical. We live just a little ways past the nursing home, and I always expected my mother would go in there and drift away, not go out with a bang like that.
Then again, in my family we never get any warning. People just fucking die.
The good thing about that is that no one gets cancer. The bad thing about that is they mostly die too young to get cancer.
Saw the Bourne Legacy last night and really liked it. Jeremy Renner is 41? Damn, 41 looks good nowadays. Then again, Duff McKagan was born when I was a junior in high school.
Eh, age ain’t nothing but a number.
Gotta figure out a way to get rid of this edgy feeling. Maybe some low-key nesting. Maybe better living through chemistry?
I got replacement stuff for my c-pap machine and had a better night’s sleep. I also had pool-floating time, which always helps.
So here’s your final treat. Alastair and Lani put these shaky, shadowy clips into one file and you get to see glorious Sister Krissie in full regalia, acting, damn it.

Krissie: Money

Ugh. Richie and I are going to have A Talk. He and I went over to Littleton (small town in NH) to go to Lowe’s, Staples, Wally-World etc. and have lunch, and I told him any anxiety-making discussions were off-limits on my day off. So no money talk. He agreed, but we have to face reality and see where we are and this morning is when we’re doing it. Then I’m going to go down and organize my sewing area a bit and dig out an autumn project I didn’t finish. Then work on some boxes, maybe go out for a drive, all the while getting my brain sorted out to focus on the historical.
But, urgh, the money situation. Used to be I was in charge of the money, because I didn’t want some damned man scrutinizing what I was spending. Eventually I gave it over to Richie because I was missing bills etc., and he’s much more left-brained about such things. Takes him for freaking ever but he gets it done.
The only problem is that I’m not as on top of the money situation as I should be, plus Richie is very much doom and gloom. He always sees the glass half empty. He sees how much credit card debt we have, instead of seeing how much we’ve paid down.
But I’m the one who brings in the money, and if there isn’t enough I feel … I don’t know. If it’s on my shoulders then it simply adds to all the pressure doing anything creative for a living brings with it.
You have your people depending on you, you have your people you want to take care of, and there’s not enough money to even cover your bills.
We want to see if we can get away, we want to see if we can even make it through the winter without financially self-destructing.
But it’s easy to hide from the truth, particularly when it’s not terribly promising.
Or even when it’s promising, which it actually is. But you can’t live on promises, and sometimes promises are broken, and damn, I’d love some security. Just a little bit.
So we’re gonna look at our debt situation, what kind of money is coming in, what to do with the White Elephant that Richie’s evil sister refuses to put on the market and refuses to pay us any reasonable amount for our share. Money makes some people really ugly, doesn’t it? Underhanded and sneaky, and not because they desperately need it. People who really need money tend to be more honest about it.
Or maybe I’m wrong about that. Maybe it’s just that we’re honest and upfront about it. And we’d never think of trying to hurt family simply to get more money. We tend to give too much money to family (including my siblings when they were alive). Ah, but different strokes.
I’m girding my loins, waiting for Richie to finish his shower. I hope the bad vibes (and Kieran, no one has to believe in any of that stuff. I wouldn’t change a flight, or change almost anything due to an astrological report. It’s just fun. And in fact, if enough people read it, think it’s going to be a sucky day, then it will probably manifest into a sucky day from all the sucky energy).
And on an entirely different note, I’m watching the Rock N Roll Hall of fame on HBO and the bassist for Guns N Roses is freaking gorgeous. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Nothing like a little random lusciousness to cheer the day. And he has a tall, lean, muscles, tattooed, gorgeous body clad in leather.
Okay, Richie’s downstairs now. Gotta take my mind off gorgeous bassists with mileage on them and face reality.
Maidens of St. Trinians, Arise!