Cash Moves Everything

It's hard not being disappointed and wanting to just give up and find some easy solution to assuage this anxiety of unknowing. I can do what I want to do which is to just roll over and die and either sign a month-to-month lease or move to an apartment. Those are easy things. Or I can do the hard thing, the thing I don't want to do at all, which is to find a storage unit and move in with my mother until I can find a place.

It's hard for me not to take this rejected offer as personal. Being that I wrote a very sad personal letter and all. But I guess money is more important to most everyone but me. I begrudgingly wish the new homeowners well and the old homeowners, well, how can I hold it against them? Money talks. Dolla dolla bill, y'all. Cream.

I am sad and heavy and feel so discouraged. It's times like these though, that I need to exhibit grit. Chin up, make responsible decisions no matter how uncomfortable.

12:35 AM

Boo.

I read it in the morning and Google the area code. It's a Washington state number.

Too many of my ex-boyfriends live or have lived in Washington state. I assume this must be Adam 2 because Saira just told me he's back in Denver and he's brought with him his nasty pill habit.

Adam 1 is still rockin' it WA and I have his number. Also, "boo" is not his style.

Who else? Aaron. Eye roll. No pls.

I don't respond all day.  I hadn't intended to, since I assume the two people it could have come from where individuals I wasn't interested in conversing with.

I am still logged into Michelle's Facebook account on my computer.  I was bored and scrolling through her feed and through that of others that we both know.

Just for shits I tossed the mysterious WA number into the Facebook search field.  I don't like Facebook but love the phone number search feature.

I had just been looking at Cory's profile so when he came up in the search results I assumed that I had not hit "Enter" or some other user-induced error.

Not so.

I responded, of course.  First:

Um boo.

Then something along the lines of like hey did you mean to text me this is jen sadly i don't have your number saved please tell me your name.

No response.

I woke up at 3 this morning. I checked my phone to see if he said anything.

Nothing.

So here I am today, all alone because Christina and Michelle are in onboarding and Maria is at the dentist and Heather left to work out early.  Alone with my thoughts, suspicions, theories, wishes, doubts, etc. etc.

I need a reprieve from this nightmare with Tanner. I love him but just cannot stand him anymore. I hate being around him. Just ugh. Draining, Exhausting. His immaturity is suffocating me.

So of course, I welcome a Cory interruption. It's been so long.  I always miss him and always want to be a Nosemary in his life.

I probably check Facebook monthly to see if there's anything new I can see.  He is one of those people with the super locked-down profiles who doesn't let you send him a friend request, only a message. I get very little from his but a bit more from whomever his latest love interest is.

I'm just consumed. I want to text him again. Or call him. But is this just me looking for flimsy life preserver to save me from succumbing to the shit lake that has become my relationship? Or is this that mystical there is only one for each of us thing and he is my one, regardless if I am his?

At least I have his number now. Who knows what I'll do with it.

It’s not necessarily that she’s a woman. That isn’t helping but that isn’t the sole reason for my hurt feelings.  It’s because I sit here and offer my help and you would rather take hers. Which is fine, if she has the appropriate credentials.  But I fail to see how someone who is a therapist can truly advise business students in a way that is beneficial to them with regard to their careers – something more than simply therapizing them because of the their awful childhoods.  I mean, it’s like I am business professional.  I have been working for the last 13 years of my life in the corporate world.  I have written resumes.  For myself and for others.  I have reviewed resumes for prospective candidates.  Nothing turns me off more than a lack of attention to detail.  Those resumes don’t even get a second chance.  And yes, resumes are more preferential but here’s the thing, my preferences have been developed from a decade and a half of dealing with resumes.  Of interviewing people for positions.  Of writing job descriptions.  But somehow that’s not enough – for some reason the person sitting behind the desk in the advising office who is one of the three most impactful people of your life, the one who was there when no one else, is more qualified than I am?  So let me understand this.  I’m good enough to put your dick into but not to listen to?  I don’t have whatever certificate she bears?  And for these reasons my advice is not good enough for you.  Apparently I don’t count as a person in general, since I was THERE for you at the time you began talking to her.  So when no one else was there, including the ever-present-but-somehow-absent me, she was.  Can you even begin to understand how insulting this is for me?  Like what am I to?  Nothing of true value.  Just a fuck, I suppose.  You don’t take me seriously.  You don’t respect me; not my intelligence and not my experience; all of which has been demonstrated tenfold but somehow she has demonstrated her vast knowledge and expertise in the corporate world?  I can tell… with all of the erroneous capitalization and her over-use of semicolons… yeah I can definitely tell.

Morrissey

"Get fuckin' laid you whiny bitch."

~ MMC

Of course I am obsessed. Should I expect anything else from myself and my eternally fleeing interest in anything? I come at it in full force with my heart and soul pushing their chips across the table to bet big on this thing or that only to lose it all in an hour, or week or month, so on.

I can't shake him like I couldn't shake Adnan. The story is far too compelling and I thought yesterday that perhaps the reason for my curiosity, amusement, interest, and so on, is perhaps because I am terrified of death, and / or perhaps because I am disgusted with the human body and everything it is. But I don't think that's the reason. I fear (and say this out of complete honesty) that perhaps I align more with Andrew Jarecki than I do with the police officers who arrested Durst.... I wonder if perhaps my fascination is with the fact that this person is not evil, he is obviously (to me) not crazy, does not appear to have socio-or psychopathic characteristics; no, he seems to be like everyone else...

I am intrigued by the thought that anyone, myself included, could do something like this. Most of us tend to use mental illness as the dividing line between ourselves and a murderer. We are not crazy so we would never kill someone else. I think with Durst, what I've seen at least, he shows us that we are capable of such things and that most of us, if presented with the opportunity (whether created intentionally or not) may do the same thing. Of course you will "poo poo" this however the more I think about all of this, the more I start to feel that I am onto something.

I still feel sorry for him, this man who has taken the lives of God knows how many. I see him small and feeble, with black beady eyes... burping and trying with all his might to keep down whatever bile mixture is rising up his throat, to not blink too many times or too hard, to not touch his face or allow his eyes to dart to the left, or the right, whichever it is that indicates someone is lying. He lies so gracefully, with such ease that I'm forced to ponder, once again, the question: Does anyone really have incentive to tell the truth?

I wonder, would things have turned out the same had he not gone and worked for his father, had he been able to pursue the life he wanted with Kathy? Or would he, eventually, for another reason or the same, have done the same thing to her. I wonder if they'll find her... I wonder if he'll tell them where she is...

I wonder why he didn't want to have children? Was it just a dislike for them or was there something darker, more malicious breathing life into that decision? Like maybe he feared he would be a bad father. Or maybe he was afraid of passing along tarnished genes?

What caused his father to make the decision not to have him take over the company? Voiced disinterest or something, again, darker and more malicious?

I want it ALL to be bad, I want the truth to be horribly disgusting and terrifyingly revolting. I want to be astonished. Dismayed. Made to hate him rather than pity him... that little old man who had the wherewithal to become a woman, to change his name many times over yet be so careless to steal a sandwich... to write a letter...

Why do I want to bear witness to so much darkness, to so much inhumanity? What carnal need is that going to satisfy?

I'm not sure how long this will last, this seemingly raging interest in him. I'm not sure how far I'll take this?

Today I wonder if perhaps Kathy left of her own volition? Maybe she finally came to terms with his violent, physical outbursts and realized that when coupled with his seemingly limitless resources, he would surely make her life a regretable one if she continued to upset and defy him. Perhaps instead of being killed by him, she came to the conlusion that she might be killed by him and took off into the night. She could have changed her name and vowed never to speak to her friends or family again?

I would like to note, now that I've brought up friends of Kathy, that one of her associates seemed to take her disappearance just a bit too hard, for a bit too long. Alcholism, loss of job, alienation from friends who were still around.... just a very strong reaction that eclipsed the grief of Kathy's own family. I'm not sure why I even bring this up, am I inferring that she had something to do with it? I'm not quite sure...

Om namah shivaya

Tim will get this job.

Everyone is grouchy lately. It's making me feel icky.

Jon is probably mad because I have a boyfriend, according to Larissa.

Larissa is bitchy most likely because of Kevin. Or her period. Or both.

I just feel... Ugh.

And that boyfriend, well I never see him and most likely won't before I go back to work.

Bleh.

Nothing to make me feel better like Silence of the Lambs. Buffalo Bill is my favorite.

I saw something posted on Facebook by a person who I don't even want as my friend.  Being the people pleaser that I am, I accepted his request but restricted him.  Part of me wishes he had done the same.

The post was in reference to Connecticut.  The last line stated, essentially, that the problem is not guns, but the fact that we live in a Godless society. 

Quite the assertion.  After completing twelve essays for Western Civilization, nine of them being on religion (my choice), God's presence or the evocation of His name does not deter violence.  Countless acts of terrorism and other kinds of violence have been committed in the name of religion. 

I respect the views of those believe that religion can influence our morality.  That being said, I am also a realist.

Heck Yes!

Ethics: A
Human Geography: A
Psychology of Gender: B
Western Civilization: B

2012 Fall Semester: DOMINATED ^_^

Best feedback ever

From my Ethics professor regarding my essay on the development of my moral perspective:

"I do not believe a student could write a more reflective essay than you did. You show a lot of intellectual development in this course. You are why teaching is fun."

Every molecule in my body is smiling and joyous right now.