Chaos Digitized

It's getting to be that time of year when people resolve to be better, do better, lose weight, and so on. In the last year, I've done exactly one thing I set out to do. I got a new job. I haven't left my husband. I haven't written my novel. I haven't traveled. I haven't been good to myself in general. I have a plan. I'm working the plan. But I'm bogged down by circumstance, depression, anxiety, and my overall buy-in to the belief that I'm not good enough. It's overwhelming. I'm going to therapy. It helps some. I'm going to my writer's group.  It helps too. But the help from those two things are sometimes (always) outweighed by the guilt trips I get for having done those two small things. I'm such a downer. But.  The point is. I recognize this fact.  I recognize the problems. And my new plan is to form new habits. I will write twice a week for my blog. I will write weekly to contribute to my writers group. I will...

Good news: I got a new job. Bad news: I didn't have time to write even when I didn't have a job. So... What do I do? I just have to find time for me. Make time. Be better to myself.  Coz god (little g) knows I'm the only one who will. ..... So,  the job? There's a couple of hotties there and.... one of the hotties has a deep sexy voice that carries through the office like the smell of fresh baked cookies.  Positively delicious.  And you know my well-documented sock-whore tendencies?  Well i'm also a voice whore.  So I really hope he's one of those that has to talk his way through tax returns. Nom fuckin nom, baby. Voice carrying like the fragrance of cookies.... hmm... need to write a poem about the voice . Stay tuned! Sorry for the short, long overdue post. Melikelikimaka CD

I'm job hunting. There are times when it's easier to find a job when you have a job.  That's not always the case.  When you're interviewing in a different town than your current job, it's hard to get out and interview.  Worse still when you're hiding the fact that you're looking. So... I resigned.  After I turned down a job and let the partner know about it. But... silver linings.  I'm a fucking gangster. I'm a rockstar (I'll have the quesadilla, haha). I've got another interview scheduled.  An offer on the table.  And i'll be closer to home. That's big. I doubt myself a lot lately. I mean, I'm smart, but if you get told enough times that you're awful, lazy, and just plain not enough, you start to internalize it. So... It's refreshing to hear good. That's not to say my friends don't tell me that I'm great. And I appreciate them... they've been lifesavers.  It's just nice to hear it from o...

I'm a bad blogger (never flipping writing) . I'm a bad mom (just ask the teen) . I'm a bad wife (again... ask the hubs) . I'm a bad novelist (my nano isn't going well see the first line above). I was given the option to resign this week.  It has me depressed and anxious and feeling like a total fucking failure. I'm interviewing too.  But i... I just... I'm just lost. I'm lost a lot lately. Have been for years.. Anybody wanna hold me and tell me to remember my Bob Marley? Every little thing... c.d.

There's an empty place in the pit of my stomach.  Or maybe it's where a soul belongs and I'm just feeling it physically. Music doesn't bring me joy. The only joy I've felt recently has been fleeting and accompanied by an ice pick to my heart. My stepson, the adorable little guy he is, gave me love this weekend.  Hugs and kisses and this massive goofy grin.  But the ice pick?  He called me mommy.  It was just once.  But it reminds me that I'm not mom.  Because everything his dad says reminds me that I'm nothing to HIS son. I should be happy that he sees me as a mom figure. But i'm just hollow inside. I'm tired of being a  broken, miserable version of myself. I just can't find a way to put the pieces back together. Help? C.D.

There's this YouTube guy I kind of like watching sometimes... he does one song in the style of a whole bunch of bands or genres. It's pretty badass to watch.  He records every part individually and mixes it and you get to hear your favorite P!nk song as though it were being covered by Metallica, Ozzy, Garth Brooks, Hanson and 3/4 of the cast of Sesame Street (Piggy and Elmo decline to participate because they're too big for their britches-and no, that's not a fat joke). Hearing his work and some of the covers of songs I grew up on (Cry Little Sister from The Lost Boys soundtrack - Performed by Marilyn Manson.... In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins- covered by Nonpoint) makes me think of other songs that I'd like to hear updated - or maybe even do the updating.... Since one of my closest friends/ guitar instructor/ cheerleader/ sounding board/ all sorts of awesome stuff rolled up into one nifty dude-type-package is also my only reader, I hesitate to mention the on...

I'm not talking about my ass. Maybe my ass is heavy, but it isn't why I'm currently feeling weighed down. My left hand is tied to an anchor. And I'm in shark infested waters. With my right foot cut nearly off and bleeding... "That which does not kill you...." You know what? Fuck off with the cliches. I'm trying to make the plan, work the plan, yadda yadda (my phone was just trying to autocorrect yadda to Yoda. Proof that I'm more nerd than Yiddish.) If he fucks this new job too I swear I'm going to cut him. And by "cut him" I mean I'm gonna do absolutely nothing.  Because I have no spine. I'm handing in my resignation sometime in the next few days.  And I'm accepting the new job. Freaking out, man. Seriously... Who wants to help me pack up all my nerdy shit? Hire a truck for me, yo... Maybe there'll be room enough for my emotional baggage in there too. Ha I'd need the whole fleet. Wish me luc...

So... I have a job offer.  I also have another firm interested in me.  And ummmmmm... I got a po box and I'm opening a new bank account to deposit my payroll checks protect my kids. Yikes. I'm freaking out. Lots of heavy shit going on. But that's my life lately. God i'm self centered. Dude... This shit sucks. I mean the job offer thing is pretty effing shiny, but change scares me. I'll get there,  but it's a fucking long road. Who has the keys to hot rod convertible? Road trip? C.D.

.... .... Run away. Yeah.  That's my current feeling. You know you sang it in your head too...  Bonus points if you did it in the style of Beldar (like I did). Loads of drama here. Baby mama drama. Baby daddy drama. Teenage drama. Work drama. Just lots and lots of drama. So. Escape. An escape room would be fun... theme should be "You're in a horrible loveless marriage with a controlling asshole spouse that thought a lovechild with someone would clue you into how unhappy HE is in the marriage." .....oh wait... That's the current escape game I'm playing.   And it's only costing every penny i earn.  And my job.  And my sanity.  And all of my friendships. And my extended family. So... everything. This exceptionally fun game is costing me everything. My Pollyanna ass is trying to get a handle on "what am I getting from it?" I'm pretty fucking strong at this point.  Very nearly at badass levels. I have two GORGEOUS girls and t...

....I need kleig lights or some shit like that.  Things are dark lately.  I think the hubs is seeing someone else.... again. I'm very nearly broke (child support for someone else's kid SUCKS). I'm stuck making very little (for a CPA with my experience in this area) because I'm kind of in a stall pattern and have been since the kid was born.  So what am I to do? I need stability. Either in job or family or relationship or my fucking bank account - some sort of stability.  Unlike the bank account (approaching zero way too fast for my tastes), a zero in the relationship arena is pretty close to stability.  Right?  Way better than tantrums anytime I do something for myself or try to relax on my day off or something, right?   I'm also looking for a job. Fuck. I can't start a new job and cut his ass loose at the same time, can I? I'm going to bake today, I think.   That's my zen. And unlike my books, writing, w...

what is worse? being alone or being lonely with the person you used to think was your forever? I'm not entirely sure that I'm going to make it through the day without a full-on, ugly-crying, splotchy-red-face breakdown.  I don't want to be here today... or any day. here as in work. here as in a loveless marriage.  here as in depressed beyond all reason. I was told that I seemed to be really happy this past weekend when I went out with friends and did something fun.  For me. This was from the friend that sees me sad and depressed and anxious all.the.fucking.time. So... an expert on Senora Chaotica. And someone who can see through my fake it till you make it persona. So... yeah... Happy looks good on me. Which is why I always look like shit. Because when I do me and find a little happy, he counteracts the happy by being controlling, making me feel guilty, or picking a fight. Which makes me wonder if the little upticks in the happiness meter are worth the ma...

Dairy Queen has these amazing single serve ice cream cupcakes.... yum yum yum. They've got chocolate and vanilla ice cream, chocolate fudge and chocolate cookie crunch and they're topped with a tall spire of thick whipped cream frosting and sprinkles. They're cups of heaven. Can you tell I'm craving sweets? I'm trying to hold out until after work. Gimme some sugar! C.D.

I need my life not to be so fucking ridiculous. What's going on, you might be asking? Well... Baby mama won't let us see our son. She wants the "drama" at our house to be cleared up before we get to see him again. Nevermind that she hasn't told her significant other about the fact that baby daddy lives in town. Nevermind that she fucked a married man. Nevermind that the married man is the source of the fucking drama. Is it an attempt to break us up?  or make it so I can't leave him?? Goddamn it, I just want a little fucking normal at some point. or a little normal fucking. or a little kinky stuff.... or just.... I need to be treated as though I matter. And I need to be made to forget my shit for just a little while. Escapism? Perhaps.... but I don't give a fuck. haven't had one in months, so no spare fucks to give,  right? Who wants to help me pull a Houdini? C.D.

I used to be a wannabe. Told a friend this when he was talking about going back to school. He said he was a wannabe. "I used to be a wannabe Then I became a gonna be Now, I am" I'm bringing this up because I'm struggling between work and home stress and with my mental health.  I am now a wannabe because I want to be able to get through a normal day of work without wanting to do things that I might regret. Putting a plan in place makes me a gonnabe.  I'm pre-gonnabe. I'm working on a plan. Maybe next year I'll be able to move into the "Am" category. I'm an open book here. The good,  the bad, and the fuckin fabulous. Too bad the hubby is an illiterate asshole, huh? Happy reading - there will be a quiz. C.D.

and... depression... and thoughts of hurting myself. really hurting myself. my eyes held for way too frigging long on the sharp chef's knife tonight. i'm stopping myself from doing that, but goddamn it I've been in tears a good portion of the day. I need a leave of absence, I think.  i don't think i need the hospital, but i need a fucking break and a change of scenery.... preferably with someone who might be willing to keep me from sharp objects. think good thoughts for me C.D.

I need my fucking life to make sense. Complications abound, baby. The more I try to get things cleaned up and packaged in a nice little "sign on the dotted line" package, the more other shit gets thrown at me. Not literally... eww gross... but yeah.. I feel like i'm on some sort of reality show... Truman show meets Jonah meets... hell, I dunno. some of my scattered brain today is the two year old.  some of it is his dad. some of it is his mom. I need an escape.  Just a few hours of not going on an all expense paid guilt trip for daring to want some me time. i'm not even asking for me time of the naked sort. just... me... Give me a sign if this is actually a reality show. a newspaper held upside down. a stuttering TV televangelist on at a sports bar. something and dammit, keep reminding me things will be ok C.D.

I've got a couple of ideas for country songs. My southern accent gets thicker than honey and twice as slow and sweet over the course of the day and, while I can drop it to sing or speak a foreign language (or Yankee... still counts as foreign, sugar),  what is the fun in that if you're singing about how your man "done been cheatin' and brought home an extra kid and the clap"? To clarify here, I got tested for everything under earth's yellow sun which gives me my super powers (oh it buuuuuuuurns) and everything came back clean. (oh shit... you weren't supposed to know that i'm secretly superman's smoking hot love child!) Free o' disease. except stupidity coz i still haven't left. goddamn at the chaos today. Back to the music...  I just want something that's all me out there.  Something that isn't me being a poor facsimile of.... whatever. I don't wanna be the best at something... I just wanna be my best version of ME. Q...

So I want a divorce. I need a divorce. I need to be free from... well... the bad. I want to be able to like H as a friend and coparent. And I want him happy. He deserves happiness. methinks he deserves an itchy rash on his junk that gives him shooting pain upon any sexual desire too... but that's fucking mean. But goddamn it I want to be happy too. I don't expect my life to be sunshine and rainbows.  I'm just tired of the miserable. I'm broken enough that I don't believe in love at the present... but then again i'm not so sure I love myself either... And with that said, lemme go to my klonopin bottle and slow down the anxiety/depression/stress-induced heart palpitations. Single dose, baby.  I'm not currently on a self-harm kick. goddamn it, ..i'm earning my blog name today.... Total fucking Chaos .....should've seen me last night... more chaos...... peace, that nasty L word, and Sparkly shit, C.D.

BITCH! I'm not ok, you guys. I suck at this whole adult thing. Especially this parent-of-a-teenage-daughter thing. Would it be awful if I got a massage and a haircut on Friday? Yeah... it would. Taking care of myself is "selfish" and "a waste of time and money." But you cannot pour from an empty pitcher. And my pitcher is bone dry and has been for some time now. I could go dirty and talk about asking some attractive guy filling me up, but i'm not feeling it. That's how empty I am. How do I go about making the bosses happy and the family happy/healthy without losing myself completely? Or better yet, how do I come back from being so thoroughly lost now? Anyone got a map or a tether or wanna talk me through it? hello? didn't think so. May you always find your way (eventually), C.D.

Customer doesn't realize that it's 10 minutes to closing. Customer isn't a total asshole, after all. Customer has made major purchases in the past year and over the past several years, including the current equipment. Customer isn't asking for anything major. No new safety installations.  Just an inspection and fix of the problem area. Do you let the customer know that your safety people are booked to closing and ask that she come in Monday? Do you take on the work for the customer and do what you say you're gonna do, as completely and carefully as if it were your first of the day? Do you tell the customer to piss off? Or... do you tell the customer, "No problem, we'll get you fixed right up" and then half-ass do it, leaving the customer in a more precarious position? Any guesses as to the right answer? As the customer, I think the first or second is best. I'd rather come back when everyone is fresh and not already thinking of hitting th...

I'm witty as hell, too smart for my own good, charismatic, if you can get past the whole "terminal introversion" thing funny, relatively cute,  I could go on for days. humble too I'm a flirt, an open book, and I have no filter.  Additionally, I have a ginormous, bouncy rack. I've been told that it doesn't suck.  Seriously,  tis a thing of beauty. Huge distraction sometimes.  I look down and BAM!  Perfection in cleavage form!   So, dear reader all one of you you're likely wondering why I'm trying to convince you of just how wonderful I am.  The simplest answer?  I'm not. I'm trying to convince me. I'm so negative lately,  so down and depressed, that I need to remind myself that I'm pretty fucking badass for a CPA. And I'm creative. And I'm friendly.  and loving. and giving. Let's face it, I'm all that and a bag of kettle chips.  kettle chips coz they thick and tasty like me, baby  So... pos...

I'm a good girl. I promise I am. but I want to be bad. Not in a "oh I'm a bad girl... I need a spanking" kind of a way. well....              shit...                             maybe I do. Is that bad? Totally bad. But he's been so bad.... for so long... shit... but if I justify my bad behavior by his behavior doesn't that make me just as bad as him? goddamn. I need a friend i can talk this over with.... I heard that old country song "Going Through the Big D (and don't mean Dallas)" the other day... and... shit... I need a big D. and not just the Divorce. I miss my best friend. She could help me get my shit together. anyway... Anyone wanna talk it over with me? I'm willing to allow the discussion to be directed at the creamy white cleavage that I *hate* having to cover all the goddamn time. Happy Wednesday... C.D. P.S. Would it be awful to ...

Now that I'm well and truly checked out of the marriage, I'm faced with temptations... Temptations that were easier to ignore before. The temptation to become a person that I'm not. The temptation to sever ties completely. The temptation to pay back some of the hurt. I respect myself enough to avoid stooping to his level. (oh but it would be amazing to be wanted) Does that mean I'm not going to flirt when given the chance?  nuh-uh... I'm a flirt. I did meet some nice looking guys at my conference.  And darn if they're not all married.  I'm really not going to be "that girl."  I don't want to be the tool some guy uses to do the same thing to his wife that was done to me (that said, condoms are this really effing amazing invention that provides a level of protection from .... you know... stuff that would out your ass as a cheater). oh baby you.... you got a disease... you say it's just a rash.. but it's halfway up your... Ye...

Happiest place on earth,  you expect what,  exactly?  Long lines, crowds, gates-of-hell heat, spoiled rotten kids,  tired parents.... total negativity that you have to work hard to break through with a pickax and brute force to get to the two or three tiny nuggets of pure joy for the low low price of a grand or so for a family of 4. More if you stay on property or don't live in Florida.... or both. I stood back and enjoyed the magic. Kept my calm.... bathed in the heat and sweat and brushed off the attitudes around me. My teen actually giggled when meeting Kylo Ren. She was giddy and, as a result, so was I. The girls also had a lightsaber fight on the walk between two of the activities we enjoyed. They were smiling and having a great time.  And I loved every minute of it. We were doing pin trading - like an Easter egg hunt for you non-Disney readers (all none of you). The teen was laser sighted on all of the lanyards and pin pouches- especially if they had...

I've been reading back over my blog posts lately and I've noticed an annoying truth. I'm an effing whiney bitch. As much as the hand I've been dealt stinks, my attitude doesn't have to match that.  Nobody likes a Pollyanna- I'm not going to go that far, not by a long shot. Seriously? you wanted a doll in the missionary barrel, but got crutches and you, annoying little rhymes-with-bunt, say "at least we don't need crutches" yeah, 30 years after reading it, it is still stuck in my craw. On a completely unrelated tangent,  having something stuck in your craw sounds like masturbation gone horribly wrong. Alright.... so, good things in my life - without trying to perform fecal alchemy (turning shit into gold) goddamn, I am a fucking master wordsmith! Just gimme my book deal and I'll be on my way.  thankfulness.... take two - in no particular order: Good friends.  You know who you are. Music.  Always important in my life,  even...

Unfortunately, this is the goal and not the reality.  I didn't sleep last night.  Well... maybe an hour or so. Working on my budget.  Working on me. My book and my writing will likely take a back seat.  Kids, career, and doing the best I can for me. I will not give up my group.  I need a group of people who are like me.  This is pretty much my only social interaction. I won't give up my therapy.  I'm fucking twisted and I know it.  I need that shit. I won't be going back to my "family" though either.  I can't trust them not to turn on me again the next time I need them. I sang this morning. I haven't been listening to music all that much and I just needed some music.  A normal person in the midst of gathering her shit to prepare for divorce (god I hate that I have to use that word) would crave ice cream or alcohol or pizza and sweats on a comfy couch. But I craved music. I butchered a song from my favorite Broadway musical. I san...

ok... so I have some regrets. I don't regret meeting H. I don't regret my kids. I don't regret staying long enough to get to know the coolest little joker on the planet. I regret being a doormat for so long that I find myself asking permission to even ask a friend (who's too busy for me anyway) to hang out. I don't regret doing a web search for dissolution of marriage papers.  I don't regret starting to gather up all of the information I need in order to complete those papers. I don't regret running the numbers so I can figure out if I'll be able to do this alone.  house,  car, feeding the family,  paying down debt... I do, however, regret letting certain people in my firm know about the situation because it's being used against me. but as for me... for now... I need to make my plans for myself despite the way it can be seen. goddamn I am not ok. i need to be held and told that everything will be ok. I need to be made to laugh through the...

The tax life chose me. Well,  I guess that's not entirely true.  That said,  my circuitous career path all started with me enjoying the process of completing my own 1040s. There was something special about the way things just kind of fell into place on the tax return.  Yeah,  there's something wrong with me. I clinched my first bookkeeping job when I told my interviewers that I loved doing my tax return.  I got the interview itself by putting my little bits of commercial photography on my resume*. That set me on the path to become a bookkeeper. I finally decided to go back to school when I hit my upper limit at my next job.  Left there just before graduation° and on to my first job in tax. It's stressful this time of year - duh.  But I can't even watch sports on tv without thinking about the tax implications of where they play the game, and so on.  Every time I get stressed and start thinking,  hey, why don't I go to clown school an...

So y'all are aware, from a couple of my posts at least, that I'm a CPA. That, of course,  means that things are hopping at my firm lately. So I'm blogging while watching "The Big Game" and its attendant commercials. (Big fail, dodge. Biiiiig fail.) As a blogger/writer, I'm falling down on the job. I know it. I'm not writing anything new outside of angry poetry about relationships and tax. It's February and I'm writing my first blog post of the year. For that, I'm truly sorry. As a CPA that also happens to be a mom, the reality of tax season is that I'm not around a lot of the time.  I'm just not. But I make up for it in the summer.  Or so the theory goes.  Pretty good gig,  right? But because my kid needs me and H is kind of a dick, I'm falling down on the job job... the one that pays the bills.  The one that brings home more than double his.  The one that pays for his "gifts to himself." So ... I'm torn in three ...