For several weeks on the way in to work I've wanted to get a picture of the sign in front of Independent Records on Platte so that I could make some funny with it. Being me, I didn't get around to it in time, and now it's been changed. It had been announcing the impending arrival of a couple of CDs. It read:
I was going to say something along the lines of how I didn't know Dave needed to be kept refrigerated... but without the visual why bother? Lost opportunities.
I'm back to actively looking for a new full time job. They're still using me at Graham for now, but as the days roll by I'm becoming more and more certain that I'll never be rehired here, and if I freelance for the rest of the year I'm going to be royally fucked come tax time. It wouldn't be so bad if I was making enough to be able to put some aside for taxes as well as pay the bills, but I'm not. Not even close.
Depression is kicking in again. I can tell. Everything I try to do leads to frustration. I want to throw and kick shit way too much. Bah. Just thinking about it is making my head vibrate. Essentially, I'm engulfed by the feeling that everything I do is pointless and doomed to failure. Don't bother saying it isn't true. On some level I know that I'm good at some things, but right now I can't find that place. The only thing that is going to get me through this is knowing that it's not new and I've gotten through it before. But even that doesn't really help much. Since my ears have started ringing and I want to scream, it's time to write about something else.
A couple of weeks ago I found out that my mom has been mad as hell at me for a long time because of some of the stories I've written here that involved her and my childhood. She still is, I guess. Nothing to be done about it though. I apologized, but pointed out that they are my stories too, since they involved me, and I had a right to tell them. If she didn't want that part of our lives to be brought into the light of day, she should have tried a bit harder to keep me the fuck out of it. She countered with how her other children would never have betrayed her like this. After that it turned ugly. I'll bet it was interesting for the other shoppers in the Antique Mall. So it goes.
Yesterday I finished reading an excellent book that Heather got for me for Father's Day by one of my favorite authors, Christopher Moore, called "Fool". I read it in two days. He's a gifted author. He just needs to write more, dammit.
That's probably as happy an ending to this post as I can come up with today. Hopefully next time I'll manage to be more upbeat.