If it sucks, you can eat a sandwich

(First - a question: Am I supposed to capitalize every word of my blog post titles?  Not capitalizing makes it look weird.  Capitalizing makes it look too formal.  This is why I hated English classes!)

(Second - a confession.  I have two or three started-but-not-finished saved drafts of posts.  I'm going to try to rectify that situation)

My parental unit came to visit last weekend.  We hit a local Mardi Gras party, and went to a music show.  And played a lot of cards.  And ate a lot.  The title of this post came from the weekend.  First, I cooked something in the crock pot for dinner Friday night.  I wasn't sure when everyone was going to get here, mom and dad were driving in, Hitter was coming from a business trip, crock pot food can kind of hang out and wait until everyone's ready.  Perfect. 

I titled this picture "Surly Crock Pot"



Problem.  I felt compelled to make a recipe I'd never tried before.  So... I told everyone "if it sucks, you can eat a sandwich!" which then kind of became catch phrase of the weekend.  Saturday night, dad wanted wings from a restaurant where I had no idea how the wings were... so I told him to go ahead and order them, and if they suck he can go home and eat a sandwich.  Sunday we had no idea what we were getting into with the music show, it was something none of us had heard of before.  So... you guessed it!  "Well I guess if the show sucks we can always leave... and come home and eat sandwiches" 

And that explains the title of the post.

New topic: I've been having more fun with cameras.  I've officially become a photography nut.  Not a photographer, not even someone whose hobby is photography.  I'm just nuts.  On a high note, I finally learned how to use the dSLR on manual setting.  On a low note, I've become a little disillusioned with that camera and want a shiny new big fancy one.  Except I don't have a spare $1500 laying around.  And I want a macro lens, but I don't have a spare $500 laying around either.  *sigh* 

Which brings me to my next point.  Money doesn't buy happiness.  Yeah yeah I know, you hear that all the time.  And if you don't have money, you think this is a whole load of crap.  Hear me out.  Actually, don't.  I think everyone should quit reading.  Because I'm about to have the world's biggest pity party.

I really know how to have a good time, huh?  Okay let me start by saying I know I have it pretty good.  And I hate it when I go into a pity party because I know that there are gobs of people that would love to switch places with me.  And I WOULDN'T want to switch places with most of them.  So life is peachy, right?

Wrong.

There's still something missing.  And it's a biggie.  And it's not something I can buy.  Nor is it something Hitter can buy for me.  Sometimes I tell Hitter that my life was easier when I was poor.  Crazy, right?  But it's true. 

I miss independence.  I miss freedom.  I miss privacy.  I miss respect. 

I keep having recurring dreams where I'm back in college.  I dream about the town, I dream about classes and homework and professors, and I dream about the dorms.  (Irony, huh?  Privacy... dorms... yeah right!)  Everyone keeps reminding me "you can't go back, it wouldn't be the same" and 1. yeah I know that 2. I'm not going to go back, am I? 3. even if I did go back I wouldn't want it to be just the same... but mostly I can't go back.  However, it's not that I want to go relive my college days, it's that I miss what college represented.  Friends.  Independence.  Fun.  Making my own decisions.  Making do with what I had.  Doing crazy things because they were fun.  Making new friends everywhere I went.  Teetering on that line between fun and stupid.    Did I mention friends?  And fun?  Yeah.  Not just fun and friends though, I worked.  I went to class and had a job.  I had a job I loved, and I gave up the traditional spring break so I could go get another job.  I spent my summers on internships.  But they were what I wanted to do.  My decisions.  My independence.  MY LIFE. 

I have NONE of that now.  I am stuck in this Hillbilly Hell/Snooty City with no friends.  I can't do anything with my life cuz I'm stuck here where there is nothing for me.  I can't do anything without clearing it with my warden husband first.  And he's a fun-hater.  So I buy myself things to try to get happy... but it doesn't work. 

It sucks, and I eat a sandwich.  I hate pity parties.  They make me feel ashamed of myself.  And all they serve are sandwiches.  Bleh.  Mostly I'm ashamed though, sandwiches are okay.  I kinda hate myself a little bit.  And I don't know what to do about it all. 

Potpourri Pot (heh heh I said "pot")

This is going to be a little bit of everything.  Total mish-mash.  Lots of things to talk about, none of them worthy of their own entire post.

Remember that midlife crisis I had last fall?  Yeah it's still going on.  Yesterday morning I was on the phone with Hitter (he was out of town over the weekend) and he tells me that his HR guy had sent him an email about a new job opportunity (just a new role within the same company)  This is not surprising, this company plays apple-cart-upset about every 18 months or so, and Hitter's been in this same role for 3 years now, so he's WAY overdue for a shakeup.  Of course I never really look forward to these games of corporate musical chairs, because this happens:

Yeah.  That's a lot of fun to deal with.  Side effects include irritability, short temper, complete lack of understanding, and general assholedness.  Except he's already been like that lately with the current position, so how much worse can the transition to something new be? 

Famous last words.

So anyway, I just kinda went "yeah whatever okay" when Hitter mentioned possible new position.  Right up until he said that it would involve a move.  And then my emotions got on the biggest baddest roller coaster ever. 

Just a few colors short of a Jackson Pollock painting

"OMG I might actually get out of Hillbilly Hell?!"

"Wait, when I imagined moving away, it wasn't to go to the east coast.  Ugh"

"Well, we wouldn't stay there for more than 2 or 3 years, I can do that.  And I'd get to move!"

"Hitter would never go for that, he couldn't be that far from his family"

"God what an ass, he is the reason I am so miserable!  Why won't he move away from here?  I hate Hillbilly Hell!"

"Wait, I'm a shitty wife.  Could I really move that far away?  I'd have to fly EVERYWHERE and I hate to fly.  So really I'm just blaming him and using him as the scapegoat but I wouldn't like it either"
"But there might be work and/or school opportunities out there that don't exist here"

"But the east coast is one giant city running into the next giant city, and my biggest problem here is that it's a freaking city"

"Seriously though, I want to get the hell away from this damned place!  I don't even care where I'm going next"

"Although... I'd have to leave my house and my pool and I kinda like them.  And I probably wouldn't get anything I'd like out there"

"But it would be an opportunity to get away from everything around here that's making me miserable, including my family."

"Except I probably won't be happy out there either.  I'm not sure if I've ever been happy.  And I don't think I ever will be happy.  Ugh.  Just... ugh."

It's like the lamest roller coaster ever.  Anyway the good news is I don't need to worry about it anymore because Hitter said he isn't taking it.  He wouldn't like the work, it's way out of his comfort zone and possibly not even something he really agrees with.  Althoug who knows with him, because he pretty much agrees with anything the Beloved Corporation does. 

So I think I'll quit thinking about that.  Or maybe I'll just quit thinking.

Random Internet Stupidity:

I got this in an email.  Don't get me wrong, I love me some Mike Rowe... *drool*... but seriously?  He's doing videos telling idiots they need to get their oil changed?  Wow.  I can't decide whether to be more annoyed by Ford thinking they need to make videos telling people that if the check engine light comes on you'd better... well... check the engine, or by the fact that I think Mikey boy has finally hit the "overexposure" status.  Perhaps a while ago. 

His voice is still dreamalicious though. 

New subject: my year-in-pictures is still going, although sometimes it's not very interesting.  I made it all the way to oooooooh about January 11 before I realized that some days I just don't have anything photo-worthy in my life.  So I've been randomly filling the boring days in with extra pictures from interesting days.  In some ways, that's probably a good thing though.  Then I can remember that good things do happen sometimes, and occasional boring days aren't the end of the world.  [/philosophical comments]  And then there were a couple days when I had specific pictures in mind that I wanted to use on those specific days... didn't get the pictures... and then didn't update the album. 

Today I had to catch up on two weeks worth of pictures.  There was much procrastination of anything that others would consider "productive".  Kitchen's still a mess, house didn't get cleaned, dog needs more exercise (although thank goodness the co-dependent beast actually spent an entire half hour in the back yard today without me) laundry didn't get done, trim didn't get painted, closets didn't get decluttered, office stuff didn't get organized, and most importantly, Hitter's model train didn't get landscaped.  Most importantly to him anyway.  I really don't care much, and I didn't feel that his hobby needed to be prioritized above mine, but I'm probably still going to catch hell for it tomorrow when he gets home.  *sigh* 

I think that's enough for now.  Way past my bedtime. 

It's all part of my Master Plan

The Master Life Plan has kind of taken on a life of its own.  The interesting thing for the first time in my life, when I tell people of a plan I've dreamed up, they've not only listened quite intently and been supportive, they've even had helpful advice and suggestions!  That NEVER happens to me.  Usually the best I can hope for is bewildered silence, but I really get criticism and mocking.

Go me!

It probably also helps that the people I've told do not include my family.  Idiots.  I'm not telling them until it's too late to change.  Heck I may never tell them.  No, seriously, can you divorce your family?  

I already discussed the helpfulness of two Best Friends in a previous post, and then this past week I went out with the ex-husband (or current boyfriend, depending on which version of the story you like) and he was full of even more support and helpful suggestions!  I found out I was pretty wrong about the Kelly Staffing Services company.  I always envisioned them as just placing like data entry and receptionist type people.  Nope, they have an entire scientific division.  And turns out there's an office right here in the city of Hillbilly Hell.  He said they're often looking for people to do just the random lab-rat work... and they get frustrated because the potential employees want to get Nobel-prize-winner's pay for lab-rat work.  Well that's not a problem with me, I really don't need much more pay than to cover the cost of the commute... and potentially any kind of dog-sitting for Muppy.

Plus then if it turns out that the job sucks, it'll just be a temporary position!

 That has potential.  I have a fear of commitment.

I haven't just been thinking either, I've been taking steps.  The first one I did all on my own was this past week I test-drove the commute to the place that's top of my list of potential full-time employers.  That may not seem like much, but I absolutely hate city commutes, so deciding if this one was acceptable was a big deal.  I told Hitter if I have to make that 2-hour drive every day, he's going to have to get me a new car or keep a chiropractor on retainer, because Marvin the Paranoid Car is a bit rough-riding for these hillbilly hell roads.  Other than the bumpity-bumps though, it really wasn't bad.  Yeah it's an hour long, but it's all through the country and no rush-hour traffic.  And I've never been one to shy away from a little driving.

Also Hitter has said he will talk to a guy he works with who has connections at the afore-mentioned top-of-the-list company to see if anyone would be willing to have a little chat with me and share with me what goes on there and what jobs might be available in the future and all that kind of insider info.  And last night Hitter went out with his friend I talked about yesterday and the friend is going to get me hooked up with the... umm... career counselors?... that they use at the corporate nightmare where Hitter and friend work.

Progress is slowly being made.  I still am no closer to knowing what I really want to do, and I'm still struggling with whether or not I really want to give up my free time.  I mean I really like being able to float in my pool all summer long!  And pack up and go visit friends without having to ask for vacation time.  And all that other fun stuff.  Plus I'm really feeling like I'll be abandoning Muppy.  I realize I can't put my life on hold for a dog, but at the same time he's 10 years old and won't be around much longer and has had a pretty rough life so I would really like to be able to make his remaining time happy.  And I'm not sure what I should do with him anyway if I were to go to work full-time.  He's an inside dog, he'd have a heart attack if I tried to leave him outside.  And I'm not likely to get a job that would pay well enough to justify day care every day (seriously, that shit is expensive)

So... that's my story.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before or not, but I have also pondered why exactly I sometimes am just crap-happy being a pampered housewife and sometimes I go into this dear-god-I-will-never-be-happy-without-a-job crisis.  I think I've at least mostly figured it out.  It happens to varying degrees almost every year shortly before Christmas, when I am dreading having to spend somewhere between 9 and 12 days living out of a suitcase and start pondering ways to get out of it.  While faking my own kidnapping would be a lot of fun, the responsible approach would be to have something respectable like a job that would require me to stick around here.  I mean the biggest reason the in-laws say they can't come here is because mother-in-law has to be at her job on Christmas day (church organist) so it seems like a job would be a good answer.  And the other is actually kind of related to that.  I start having these feelings that Hitter isn't respecting me and no matter what I do around here, it doesn't get better.  And since he is a corporate-ladder-climbing, power-hungry, money-grubbing dickhead, I figure the best way to get any respect from him would be to also have a job.

Which is actually kind of a terrible reason to get a job.

*sigh*

I think I just babbled with absolutely no point.  In fact, I think I kind of talked myself out of what I am talking myself into.  WTF, me?

So to make a long story short (too late!) my options are, in no particular order:

• get a full-time job, most likely at the place that is top-of-my-list
• get a part-time job
• get a temporary job, either full or part time
• go back to school (I'm still having fantasies about having an apartment at the college across the state, and completely expecting Hitter to NOT go for that)
• be content with being a pampered housewife

and I have been taking steps towards figuring out what I want to do.  So that's good.  And now, I have a headache so I think I'll go curl up on the couch and doze through a movie.

Get out of my head! Leave my brain alone!

After the last post, I did some real soul searching

imagine my surprise when I found I do have a soul!

and I came up with a plan for my life.  A happy plan.  Am I ditching my idiot family?  No *sigh*  Am I running away to a far-away land?  Also no *double sigh*  Am I taking control of my life and figuring out a way to do something I enjoy?  

 I'm not going into the boring details right now, but the short version is that the plan includes getting a job or going to school or both.  Or something entirely different.  But regardless of how stupid this paragraph is, I do have a plan.

Big props to Best Friend - Mountain Time and Best Friend - Eastern Time for all their love and support through this struggle I've been dealing with!  MT has endured countless pout/whine/cry emails and has helped me sort through the jumble, and just this past weekend I was visiting ET and she also listened to the story (although I'd already mostly organized it by the time I saw her) and she helped me put a little polish on it.  You two are freaking awesome.  And you need better nicknames.  Kudos to Designated Hitter too, regardless of how he really feels about it he has been saying all the right things and appears to be genuinely supportive.  Even if he's lying and a big fight comes later, those who know him know that even pretending to want what's best for me is a big deal coming from him.  And who knows, he might even be truly supportive.  I kinda think he is but I'm afraid to get my hopes too high.

I headed for home yesterday, and even though I was in Marvin the Paranoid Car I was still flying high.  (To the authorities: I was high on life.  Not meth)  I was so happy I almost didn't mind that it took me around 1.5 hours to go 12 miles at one point.  I was feeling good about myself and my life plan.  Got to the hotel last night, caught up with Hitter for a while, and went to bed.

And then the "fun" started.

I had this horrid dream... I am not entirely sure of the setting, there were a lot of weird bits and pieces that I can't figure out, that's pretty normal for me.  But the part that caused me to wake up in a cold sweat was a scene where my parents were yelling at me because I want to go back to school and they don't want me to.  Okay I don't even know how they truly feel about it, because I haven't discussed this with them and I'm not going to until after the plan is not only decided upon but is already set in motion.  If I go back to school, I may not even tell them until after classes have started.  If I get a job, HR will have already filed my paperwork before they know anything about it.  But that apparently doesn't stop them from yelling at me in my dreams.  

Okay in case that isn't abundantly clear, it's my brain, Designated Drinker poking it with a cattle prod, and Bran Flake doing Riverdance on it.  

In my dream, they were telling me I was stupid for thinking about going back to school and that I'd always said I was just perfectly happy being the dumb lab rat so why do I think giving that up and going to grad school is a good idea.  And lots of other things.  I woke up so mad at them for never being supportive of me.  Everything I ever want to do, try to do, dream about doing... they tell me my ideas are stupid and I should do what they want me to do.  And then they take things I've said in the past and use them against me.  

Can you divorce your parents?  

Of course, once I got my bearings (including remembering I was in a hotel) I realized how illogical that was... first and foremost I'm not giving up being a lab rat because I'm currently not a lab rat!  (sidebar: I use the term "lab rat" to mean me as an employee who is conducting the experiments in question, not actually being the test subject)  And secondly, to hell with them.  They never understand anything I want to do, so why should I expect them to now?  Hence my plan to not even mention The Plan until after it is already in progress and there's nothing they can do about it. 

And before anyone says "maybe that was just your subconscious trying to make sure your big plan is realistic" well I actually think I've been fairly realistic about the pros and cons of The Plan.  In fact, I'm kind of a pessimist these days.  But that really is the way my parents have treated me in the past.  The best approach I can take to that dream is that maybe it was my subconscious trying to prepare me for the insanity and make sure I'm determined to not say anything to those idiots until it's too late for them to voice their opinion.

Of course, that won't stop them.  A couple years ago Hitter and I bought a new house.  It may not be the perfect place, but it's pretty close to my dream house.  The first time the parental unit came to visit (long after we'd already closed, signed the mortgage, moved in, etc) and Flake is all "well how are you going to feel if the neighbors tear down all their trees and build a bunch of houses back here?"  Umm... what possible point does this comment serve?!  

1. you are already fully aware that it would piss me off

2. there isn't anything anyone can do about it now because we've already bought the house

3. fuck off!

So I must be prepared for the negativity and the control-freakiness and all the other crap that will come from those idiots. 

Hold out your hand so I can implant your career chip

I'm having a midlife crisis.  Again.  This is at least my fourth.  My first one was in first grade when I realized, as I was sitting at my desk bored out of my skull, that I was going to have to sit at a desk every damned day for the next 12+ years.  Then I think I had another one in 1988.  But honestly, the 80s should have caused everyone to freak out a little... have you seen that decade?  Whew.

This latest one though, it's a doozy.  At least with the previous ones, there was an end in sight.  Change was coming.  The 80s, by definition, couldn't last longer than 10 years.  (No, my crisis was not brought about by spandex ankle-lace leggings, blue eye shadow and AquaNet hair)  This time, I'm trapped.  No light at the end of the tunnel.  Just a long straight path of monotony.  Someone else's road that I have to follow.

You may be wondering where I'm going with this.  Honestly, I'm not sure.  There's a huge long story, mostly it revolves around there not being anything for me here in this strange combination of city-snob-plus-hillbilly-hell where I'm being forced to live.  So I've been trying to figure out what exactly I'd like to do, or how I could fix my situation.

I have long ago answered the question of what career path I prefer to follow.  I'm a science dork.  All the way to the core.

There ya go.  The real me.  Now here's the real problem: if I had a choice, I would NOT work in the corporate world.  They're all a bunch of regulation-following snobs.  Not only that, I only have a bachelor's degree and I've looked into the corporation Designated Hitter works for... you guessed it, I'm not qualified.  Every task that I would be qualified to do, they have automated.

The robots are taking over!

 

Okay, with that path being cut off, let's analyze a new way to go.  I love working in academia.  So I checked out a nearby college.  Their big science research area is medical, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't fit in with them either.  And I don't have the right background.  Once again - not qualified.  I don't have a microbiology or genetics background.  The only stuff I'm qualified for there is "Requirements - High School Diploma or equivalent"  So... yay?

Honestly though I've never minded being on the edge of being qualified.  I've always said that I don't want to be the one creating the experiments and proposing the theories, I'm just crap-happy hiding in a back corner of a lab with a pipetman in my hand.  And I have been.  I've had jobs fitting that description twice and have loved them.  Dearly.  And would do them again in a heartbeat.

However, here in this hellhole, there is a severe lack of those jobs like I've done before.  (I think I'm talking in circles now, sorry about that)  And even if I did get all sorts of qualified and land a job with the medical geniuses, there would still be an issue of having to deal with a horrendous commute.

Moral of story: I have no idea what to do.  I'm stuck in this cow-town because of Hitter, and there's nothing for me to do here.

But, I recently did some more deep-soul-searching.  I got to thinking about my feelings of not wanting to be the one developing experiments.  Why do I feel that way?  I naturally find myself analyzing other people's theories, developing other ways of looking at things, and so on.  I mean seriously, I watch Mythbusters and scream at the TV because of all the holes in their theories and yell at them about how they should be doing it.  Hitter laughs at me.

And then it came to me.  Rebellion.  (no, it's not about sex this time)  I remember something that happened when I was still in college, I think I was maybe on my second internship but hadn't yet graduated and definitely didn't have anything lined up for after school.  I was back in the hick town I grew up in, talking to a guy that was an old acquaintance of the parental unit.  Turns out Designated Drinker had been telling everyone in hick town that I not only had a full-time job lined up for when I graduated in another year and half, but that I was going to be the next brilliant inventor for the giant corporation I was interning with.  And I replied with "oh hell no!"

But... what if...

What if I really could do it, and what if I would really enjoy it?  What if I really am brilliant?  Ha ha ha ha ha you know what I mean.  Seriously though, what if I should be a lead scientific researcher and I'm not doing it because I want to tell my father to go to hell?  What if I should be finding the cure for cancer, AIDS, lactose intolerance, paper cuts, and salmonella poisoning?  (quite a combo, huh?  for reference, see the previous food fight) What if I should be winning a Nobel prize?

Not shown: science groupies.  Also the Easter Bunny and other fictional creatures.

What if I should go back to college, get a PhD in biomedical engineering or something.  Okay, enough fantasizing.  But a Masters in chemistry doesn't sound so bad.  Except I'd still run into the problem of being in this stupid place with nothing to do.  I don't want to work in Corporate America, and I don't want to commute to the college.  I mean I would go do one of those things if we were suddenly poor and in fear of losing the house or something like that.  But I've done enough stupid piddly jobs and volunteer gigs since getting married, I hated them all and am not looking forward to something else I'll dislike if I don't have to.

*sigh*

And what if I'm only resisting working because of what a workaholic Hitter is?  More rebellion.  

I just want to take a deep breath and tell the whole world 

But I can't.  I'm trapped here.