I’ve been dragging my feet. 

I have been living in a situation I cannot abide for much longer; it’s not sustainable, it’s not making me happy, it’s not entirely safe for my physical or emotional wellbeing. I have, however, been holding back from telling the people I need to tell that I am unhappy and unwell. Why, my loyal reader asks? Because change is something I deeply dislike, and I’m gamey. 

By gamey, I mean I can tolerate a lot of discomfort before I break. Example: pit bulls are considered a gamey breed. One of the aspects of the pit bull that was specifically bred into them is that they’ll keep fighting even when they’re hurt, sometimes especially so. That’s why when you have a pit bull for a pet, you have to be careful of injuries, sometimes they’re much more painful than the dog will lead you to believe. 

I may complain to my family and friends about my injuries, sure, but I’ll keep fighting despite the pain. 

The ugly truth is that I need to talk to someone who has made my life terribly difficult for the last two months. I have no indication that they care about my feelings on this matter, and I have no clue if they will listen to what I say. However, I need to stand up for myself…the alternative is lying down and taking it. 

So. Gotta put on my big girl ovaries. 

(Good god I hate confrontation)

Damn it, Jady, you want to be a mother someday. Is this shit more difficult than child birth? No? Then consider it pain tolerance practice. 
Sigh. 

Anyway…I’m sending out holiday cards to my loved ones this year, and I would LOVE to send one to the loyal reader(s) who have frequented this blog. So if you want a card, send me your name and address to jadybyproxy AT gmail.com. I’m getting the cards sent as early as possible, so sooner is better. C’mon, who doesn’t love a handwritten note for whichever end-of-the-year holiday you do or do not celebrate? At the most, it’s an expression of my love for you. At the least, rolling paper. 

Good morning, loyal reader, and wish me luck being brave. 

  

 Chili: Vegan edition!

2 large red onions

3 large Anaheim peppers

1 8oz can tomato sauce

1 12oz can diced tomatoes

1 12oz can dark red kidney beans

1 12oz can black beans

Ground red pepper

Brown sugar

Cumin

Salt

Olive oil

Hot sauce of your choice
Chop the onions into half-moon slices. 

Put medium/large pot on stovetop and coat bottom with olive oil.  
Add onions to pot, stirring with wooden spoon to coat in oil. Salt onions and cover over low-to-medium heat.

While the onions sweat it out, chop up peppers into pieces the size of pencil erasers ( obviously remove stems and seeds first) 

Check on onions periodically; when they’ve reached 1/4 original size and are translucent and easy to cut with wooden spoon, add peppers and about 1 tablespoon brown sugar. Stir to coat.

When peppers are pliable and easy to cut with spoon, add cans of tomato bits, sauce, and both beans. Salt and cumin and red pepper to taste. Hot sauce if you’re like me and your taste buds have been hurt before and long for more. 

Simmer over low heat until flavors combine and/or you can’t wait anymore.

Vegan: eat. Don’t worry, those are free range tomatoes. 

Everybody else: sprinkle with soft cheese and let rest a moment to melt. Eat with a side of bacon.
Enjoy, C and all you other meatless freaks!

  
I am running a 5k with my mom on Thanksgiving. 

My mom runs half-marathons. She wants to run one in every state in the union. She’s actually got about a dozen taken care of. I think she’s saving Hawaii for last. So when I say I’m running a 5k, with my mom, on a national holiday, you can assume I’m fucking serious. I set up a training schedule while I was at work this morning: going for a run every other day until the three days proceeding the race, then 3 days in a row of running, then the actual 5k. My goal is to be trained enough to finish the race running, not walking like a little bitch. 

Whee, it’s 5am and I’m swearing like a sailor. Not out loud, in front of New Coworker, but swearing nevertheless. 

Multiple people left the Company this week, although all I know about their departures are rumors and  heresay. I am surprised the bosses haven’t made some sort of announcement about it, but I also suppose it’s not really any of my business. In any case, I ended up taking two extra shifts this weekend, so I may actually make enough money from the next pay period to pay off my credit card and do a little early Xmas shopping. I’m buying for very few people this year, and I don’t feel bad about it. Instead, I’m sending a lot of cards. Good ones, too. 

My god I am excited to go home and sleep and not even bother to set my alarm. I will sleep as long as I want to, and then get up and go for a run at the gym. Take THAT, fears of inadequacy! Eat a dick, fears of looking fat and foolish in a race setting!

What are you doing this year to fuck your fear, loyal reader?

  

The last rose of the season is blooming in my front yard, and my trip to Portland with the Husband is over. I’ve got a case of the blues. 

But there was such delicious food and drink, and T’s delightful Halloween party, and gorgeous hours of rainfall while eating the best pizza this side of Italy. It was a wonderful trip, made even better by Godfather, who was busy yet available for dinners and chats beside the fireplace and movie nights with old classics and new favorites. The men in my life are truly spectacular people. 

  
So now I’m home and the weather is chilly, the days are short, my mood is low.

Writing this hard. Motivation is an issue. Feeling gross. Ugh.

Hope the season is treating you better than this, loyal-and-much-neglected reader.

  
I can be very pretty, huh? 

With the right photo editing, so can most everybody…but I clean up all right. 

Four years ago, I was getting as pretty as possible for the love of my life, the Fiancé, and our wedding to come. The bachelorette party had come and gone, with ‘pin the penis on the fiancé’ and other silly games, drinking, delicious steak….it was pretty awesome. Big kudos to EC for pulling that one off. I was getting as pretty as possible, I say, because I knew this would be a day I would tell my children about, and I wanted to be a MILF. (At least in the pictures of my wedding, if nowhere else.) So I got my nails did and my hair was long and well-conditioned, and I avoided tan lines like the plague. It was a very long term goal; to be pretty at my wedding, and I accomplished it. Good for me. 

  
It’s a rare day when I think that I look good, and I’ve commemorated most occasions in photograph. So when I say that my face looks nice today, you can tell things are looking up for me. I’ve been told that I’m a good-looking person, but I don’t really believe it most of the time. I have too many flaws, too much extra weight hanging on my frame, too many terrible angles by which you can see the Grossness. Too much low self esteem. 

But then there are days I look simply ravishing, and I wonder how I could doubt my sexification at all. 

  
Today I’m pretty sure I look good. Which is nice because I want to be pretty for the Husband, for our trip to Portland. I want pictures of us together that make people go DAAAAAAAMN. Is that too much to ask?

well, Enough about me, loyal reader, how are YOU?

  

  
The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about, Oscar Wilde once paraphrased. Right now, I’m both. My coworkers are talking about me, my friends seem to be off the radar. How do I know my coworkers are talking about me? They do it to my face. How do I know my friends are distant and uncommunicative? I haven’t heard from some for a long, unusually long while. Maybe those of you who read my blog could drop me a line once in a while. Maybe that would be nice and needed. Maybe. 

So I’m not a virgin anymore….went to Rocky Horror Picture Show last night with the Roommate and his lady friend. We all three wore corsets and skirts, eye shadow and outrageous lipstick. I’m only a little bit mortified that my corset fit my 6-foot-something, male, albeit thin, roommate. We went to the historic Tower theater, waited in line getting chillier by the minute, and giggled along as Riff-Raff and Magenta gave the line instructions on what to do, and what not to do. Then we entered the theater, got patted down and our bags checked for contraband, and found our seats. Lady Friend bought us each a “Tranny Pack” for $3 containing a bag of rice, squirt gun, newspaper, playing cards, and toast. When the show started, they called for virgins to come up front, and chose 6 of us to be initiated. I was not chosen, thank god, and so I sat back down. They played a raunchy game with the virgins and chose two to be crowned King and Queen Cock. An honor! Then, after another short warning speech on what NOT to do (Namely, throw anything at the performers or screen) we began the show. 

Such water gunning! Such rice throwing! I realized early on that the movie was not nearly as good as I had believed it to be in my youth, and only the narrator (not in the film, but with a mic, in the theater) got me through the terrible show. She was named Susan, and she should be a national treasure. She knew the movie by heart, and prompted every single call-back and heckle. It was truly a fantastic performance. I was very impressed. In short, we had a great time, and I was happy to lose my virginity to someone as skilled as Susan. Every girl should be so lucky. 

Oh, and getting uncooked rice out of your hair is not as easy as it would seem. 

Going back to the talking/not talking subject; I have always been someone who cares too much what other people think about me. The Husband is the exact opposite, he doesn’t give a damn what people think. I envy that confidence, and of course I worry endlessly that I’ll never have it myself. Worrying is a confidence killer, so I worry over how much I worry, too. (And so on and so forth etcetera ad infinitum). I loathe people talking about me in a negative way, I glow fleetingly when they’re positive. Never am I totally unaffected. But the negative things I hear are always so much more influential on my mood, outlook, self-image. They impress upon me and make me feel absolutely wretched. I suppose you could say I’m a sensitive soul, and a bit of a pessimist. At least when I’m stressed out. Which is most of the time….

On one of my dates last week, we talked about “fake it till you make it” as a philosophy and personal endeavor. I feel like I’m faking being an adult half the time, if not more, so this is a saying I take to heart. I fake it constantly, when I’m in public, or at the workplace, or meeting new friends. I fake that I have my shit together, that I know what I’m doing, and that I’m perfectly happy doing all this while being potentially judged by the world. I fake that it’s easy to do simple tasks and suddenly it IS easy, because I’ve programmed my muscles as well as my brain to do these things and make them look like I’m not stressing out about them to a horrific degree. I fake the easiest fucking things in the world. Smiling. Nodding. Making rudimentary conversation. What I really should do is take it a step further and try and trick myself into thinking I can handle this stuff.

Listen, loyal reader, I didn’t mean to say you weren’t paying enough attention to me. It’s just…it’s just always nice to hear from you, ok? Have a good Sunday. 

  

Good evening, loyal reader. 

Tonight, the lone wolf wolves alone. By that I mean [redacted] has me [redacted] from 3-7am.  Remind me to be pissed off when I’m not feeling terribly unsafe. i know that right now I’m not on the best of terms with [redacted] but the least they can do is not set me up for failure/undue stress. It’s really difficult to do well when your own team isn’t rooting for you. Goddamn it, I want to be treated like I matter. In a good way. 

But enough bitching about [redacted], I have good things coming up in my future…Portland! The Husband and I are going to that lovely city next Wednesday for a week! It’s my first vacation since we moved to SLC, and I am eager to go to a town with reasonable liquor laws. We’re staying with my Godfather, who is awesome, and going to a Halloween party, which will also be awesome, and generally relaxing and enjoying each other’s company, which will be all kinds of awesome. 

Plus, I had two dates this week, and I think both of them really liked me. I won’t know for a while about one, but the other asked me on a second date at their place on Monday. I’m nervous/excited/nervous, and I want to put my best face forward. Dress is casual, and there’s going to be a lot of talking and communicating. I guess this is the point at which I should decide if I want them to like-like me anyway, but I’m waiting until the second date is over before I make up my mind. So far? They’ve made a really good first impression. 

Ugh, I can’t stop thinking about [redacted]…I feel so shitty about how I do what they ask me to do, and it’s probably because I’ve gotten nothing but negative feedback for the last 3 weeks. Every little thing I do wrong is being scrutinized, and I don’t think it’s fair. It’s bullshit, frankly. I’m so frustrated that I can….

No. 
NO!
I will not let this negativity drag me down. (I sound like a hippie, dammit) I will maintain my integrity and keep my head held high. I will take this like a champ. Even if I DO want to go cry in the corner because apparently nobody likes me. Ugh. I’m such a pussy sometimes. 

NO!

I will not be self-disparaging, either. I’ve made mistakes, and some of that negative feedback was warranted, sure, but I am a good person and I deserve to be treated as if I am of value. 

UGH. 

It’s too early to be writing about all this, I just sound like a whiny little princess. Have a good morning, loyal reader, and remember that you are worthwhile, too. 

  
Don’t you hate that expression? ‘Blessing in disguise’…it’s such a fuck you to justified misery. 

I’m doing better today, thanks for asking. Actually, my friend C did go out of her way to ask how I was doing, as did K, E, and a smattering of family and good friends. 

I went to my parents’ house after work yesterday, and we had coffee and talked about the HORRIFIC night last night (Saturday), wherein I had the worst night of work of my life, and seriously considered leaving and not going back. If not for my dear coworker,  who would’ve been stranded alone with a dozen lunatics, I just may well have done so. But hoes before locos. I stayed, I handled it, I survived. I emailed my boss three times, once specifically to explain that there would probably be a lot of tension in the facility the morning after, because I enforced rules that were flagrantly disregarded. 
I really can’t go into more detail without getting myself in ethical and employmental murky waters, so…I won’t. It was an awful night and very stressful and I hope it never happens again. I will handle it like a stone cold goddess if it does, but I hope not to have to. Really. 

But!!!! I drove home in the morning, I drove safely, I had my coffee with the parents, I went home and let my dogs out to pee, I fed them, I went downstairs to the bedroom and I set my alarm, and when I got 5 emails about work….I ignored them. Can you believe that? Instead, I took my meds and went to sleep. 

I woke up at 1:00pm panicking about work, and had to take a sedative to sleep long enough to be healthy because I was literally shaking from the stress, but I IGNORED MY PHONE, loyal reader! Aren’t you super proud? 

Now check out my cute dogs while I brace myself for the week to come. 

  
Comedy is all about timing. Timing is all about self awareness. Self awareness is all about honesty. 

I haven’t written much lately because I don’t want to get into trouble or be unethical, but it’s important for me to note certain things as they happen, that’s the whole point of this blog. I have been alienating those close to me with my bad temper and mercurial mood lately, and I think that means the new meds aren’t working. I’ve been loathe to go to work, painfully anxious, bitchy and brazen. I’ve damaged my career, my relationships, and my own self worth. I feel like a gigantic ass. 

Remember this, Jady, remember so it doesn’t happen again. 

Honestly, I hate how I feel right now, and I’m taking it out on my friends and family. I’m being a spoiled little brat and I hate that part even worse. It sucks to realize you’re not that great person you want to be. I’m not a helpless victim here, I am living the consequences of my own behavior. Med-altered behavior, sure, but mine all the same. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, bipolar is no excuse for bad manners. No matter how messed up you are when you do stupid things, it’s your responsibility to fix them, because no one else is going to do it for you. 

No one else will un-fuck your life. 

Now…enjoy this picture of me and Dante while I try hard to fix my shit. 

Wish me luck, loyal reader. 

  
I can handle a lot. I know this sounds strange coming from the girl who thinks the world is going to end because Anxiety tells her so, but seriously. I can handle a whole bunch of stress and still be fairly high functioning. For example, I’m at work right now. While switching meds. Which is crazy difficult to do. In all fairness, when I’m at home I stress out about work so I might at well be at the source, but you get my point. Oh my freaking goodness, my brain keeps telling me I’m going to get fired and die. So I go to work and keep not getting fired and surviving just to prove that ornery ol bitch wrong. 

Talked to the Husband, who says that calling my shrink is a good idea. He thinks that if anything, the doc may raise my antidepressant, but who knows…I’m having anxiety as well. Which I’ve mentioned before like 50 times this week. I’m sick of it. You? 

TOPIC CHANGE:

For some reason, possibly proximity of dates, people are combining the topics of gun control (following a mass shooting) and abortions (following government stuff). As far as I’m concerned, it’s a right to get an abortion and a privilege to have a gun, and that’s about as similar as the two get. Which is to say, not at all similar. I also believe we should work on an America where abortions are a rarity, (birth control is free and accessible, rape is a thing of the past, and so on), and also an America where guns are not associated with violence, which is pretty hard to imagine, so lacking that, an America where guns are in the hands of the few who respect them and handle them properly. Oh and also free ice cream for everyone unless you don’t like ice cream, in which case you get a small American flag. 

But that’s not where I live, so I cope. I tolerate. I read Facebook bullshit and I don’t chime in, because things are getting ugly. People are so god damn passionately skewed one way or the other, and most of the time they don’t even have the capacity to explain why. 

It’s embarrassing to be an American right now, loyal reader, like watching your parents fight in public. Now I have to explain myself to France when I go over to their place for a sleepover. Oy.